Maybe you’re familiar with the Secret Life of Walter Mitty, but few can appreciate the story of Jerry Lee Banister, or is that Bannister. I only knew him as simply Jerry Lee, the name my birth mother put on my sealed adoption records and used on my Adoptive Home Placement Agreement. In court, I was officially introduced in the legal world as Jerry Lee Bannister on docket #5-361 in the Probate Court of Marion, County Indiana. On October 29, 1951, two months and two days after I was born, I was put in the custody of Burton Lee Johnston and Catherine Jane Johnston as their child and heir. The court document also refers to “the written consent of Edna Faye Bannister, mother and only guardian of said minor.”

During the prior two months before adoption, I had spent time at Indianapolis General Hospital and the Suemma Coleman Adoption home -both no longer exist. Hospital records show me as “Infant Bannister,” once again spelled with two n’s. It’s odd that even my birth mother Edna used this incorrect spelling of her name, as if she was trying to disguise any connection to me. She was undoubtedly back home when the judge made this ruling, trying to deal with the “shame” she brought to her family. Those feelings are apparently now lost from her memory as I suddenly reappeared back in her life 66 years later. It would be hard to forget, but when asked she now responds, “don’t you think I would remember that?”

Jerry Lee Bannister no longer exists, except on Facebook. It’s a secret life known only to those close to me. I was renamed Michael Lee Johnston and only started to look back once my loving parents had both passed away four years ago. The Facebook site was solely created to connect with other Bannisters in an attempt to seek closure on the identity of the biological pair that mistakenly created me. Thanks to DNA testing through 23andMe and Ancestry.com I have now come close to the answer. The problem is the father is dead and the mother won’t talk.

If I could speak to her, I would have nothing but gratitude. The Johnston’s gave me everything I could have possibly needed and more. Unfortunately, life was much harder on her. At seventeen, her life was disrupted by mine and she missed her senior year of high school. My birth father left her to deal with this alone, but in all fairness probably never knew of my existence. Cecil Ralph joined the Marines and married one of her classmates shortly after I was born. I doubt that Edna’s parents ever embraced their brief relationship and probably struggled with disowning her. Maybe the feeling was mutual?

One of the problems with their relationship was that they were distant cousins, sharing the Banister name. It was also the early 1950’s when premarital affairs were one of the biggest sins anyone young woman could commit. I could admit some of my mistakes at that age. Cecil Ralph’s side of the family, with a few exceptions, didn’t spell Banister with the double “n” either. This probably prevented Edna from sharing his identity with anyone, although she left a “Marine” clue for some reason in the adoption paperwork. Also, his age of 20 and enjoyment of high school sports proved to be accurate. As fate would have it, I happened to closely match the DNA of his daughter, to the point where we are identified as “half-siblings.” I also have a close DNA match with one of Edna’s nieces, as if I needed further proof of her identity.

There is a side of me that would like to see and thank her, but there’s also a need to respect her privacy. I think I have the answers, so there’s no point in bringing up bad memories. She’s 85 years old and has lost two sons. I certainly can’t make up for that. Her only living son, oddly also named Jerry Lee, will take his mother’s side regardless of the truth. After all, out of similar loyalty, I waited until my parent’s were gone before I actively pursued her identity. Unless Edna and I finally get together, I will always remain her dirty little secret.