My day started in the rainy, Indiana darkness, reminiscent of Portland in the winter months. It had been thundering and lightening all night, so I was lucky avoid any storms during my run. We’re staying at the home of my wife’s sister, our base to run medical errands for my 97-year old mother-in-law. I will have lunch with an old friend today, before heading back to Chicago’s O’Hare for an early flight back to Portland tomorrow morning.

This trip back to my home state was primarily centered around relatives. My wife spends time with her family, including 5-month old Cole, her niece’s baby. I got to meet a couple of Banister relatives for dinner. It was a get-acquainted gathering over breaded tenderloins, a Hoosier staple. I immediately knew we were related when Deb ordered hers without onions, like me. Before that, all we had in common was DNA. Her uncle John, who only married a Banister, liked his with onions. I particularly liked Deb’s story about one of my birth mother’s brothers who worked as a railroad crossing guard. As kids, they would visit him in his little house by the tracks. It was a “cool” job from their perspective, but probably very boring without a smart phone to keep you entertained.

I shared some of my adoption documents with my new-found relatives, hoping to gain some credibility with our sudden association. The DNA match definitely indicates some sort of a close family connection, but without an admission on my bio mom’s part, there still is no proof. I confessed to a lot of “stalking” of Banister family members, trying to identify my place in the family, but really all I have is a massive family tree of suspects.

It felt good to actually talk with Banisters, rather than simply explore the lives of these people I’ve never met in what my wife often refers to as Banister World. They even prayed for me to find the answers I need for closure. They are the second and third family members I’ve met outside of the adopted group that I embraced growing up. I had met the first in Chicago a couple of months ago. The ironic thing is that I’ve spent more time with Banisters over the past three months than I have with the familiar Johnston clan. Deb has been very helpful making suggestions on who I should get to know, while John might eventually include me in some family reunions that he helps plan. It was a memorable meeting, and the tenderloin was outstanding.

While I was dabbling in Banister World, I also was in contact with two another skeletons-in-the-family-closet, searching for adoption answers. Both of these lost souls believe they are connected to me through the unconfirmed birth father. In Terry’s case, his path goes through Derek Bannister, son of Robert M. Bannister and Jean Hogan Spinks Bannister. By the way, there are many double “n” spellings, like these, on this hemisphere of Banister or Bannister World. Krista, the other adoptee, believes her roots are with Mary Ellen Banister, daughter of Dale. We will continue to help each other navigate the turbulent seas of our New World.