February 05, 2019
I have done it many times before. I get into the car, adjust the seat, tweak the mirrors, and tune the radio to whatever station is my current favorite before sliding into drive and going on down the road.
Eventually I am aware of my surroundings. Usually I am 20 or 30 miles from where I started with absolute zero memory as to how I got to where I am. On those unique occasions, I have even driven several hundred miles--totally oblivious to the route I had been traveling.
I suppose I wasn't at my best when I drove up at the house. As I remeber (it is always better to be retelling the story with a few years behind you) I entered the house rather forcefully..or maybe the buzz word of the day is FIRMLY.
I tossed the birth certificate on the table and screamed---"WHY HAVE YOU NOT TOLD ME I WAS ADOPTED!"
Mom then looked at me as if I were a saint who had just been tempted by Satan himself and said, in the coolest, calmest manner any human could possible speak, "Oh, it is just a silly mistake and misunderstanding on their part. I just need to write a note explaining there had been a few technical errors and that your birth certificate is indeed valid. It will all be OK."
So, as if I had just been handed a HUGE glass of KOOL AID, I believed that all mom had to do was write a note, like she had for elementary school to excuse an absence, to the post office folks and that would clear everything and that they should give me a passport?
This was not the first time I had seriously asked this question, nor would it be the last.
NEXT: Knowing what I didn't know I knew
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