fatherson

(no subject)

Last night I undressed Warrick for his evening’s bath. Marie was cleaning the tub, so I set the 14 month old loose thinking a naked, stampeding baby would be cute. He quickly jetted his nude-suit out of the bedroom screaming nonsensical baby jabber along the way in celebration of his newfound sense of freedom. He returned to his room after taking his nudist tour of the house, skidding to a stop in front of me. Looking up to where his eyes met mine, we stared into each other’s souls for a second before a bursting stream of urine shot from his little wee, amalgamating with the carpet near his feet. His focus suddenly shifted from the look of horror on my face to the egestive liquid pool. He had never seen his own evacuation of fluids before and was puzzled at the wetness in the floor. I screamed, “I am such a bad dad!” My wife shot out from the bathroom to see what madness had occurred in her absence only to find herself laughing at my panic. I am not well with bodily fluids on the floor…
  • Current Music: singles soundtrack
fatherson

(no subject)

It rained last night as the longest winter I can remember continues to roll through spring. I was fortunate to get out on my mountain bike late yesterday afternoon and ride for 15 miles. I helped relieve some of the feelings I have been reliving while reading Scott Abbott's, “Immortal for Quite Some Time.” The book is a “meditation” on his relationship with his brother who passed away at the age of 40. The recollection of his journey to Boise to collect his brother's belongings was not too different from the story of my traveling to Salt Lake City in order to receive my brother's ashes and his belongings. I am not opposed to revisiting the memory of losing my brother, but I was shocked at how Scott's book weighed on me as I began crying only two pages in. The book is personal on a couple of levels. I know Scott, though we are not “friends,” he had always been kind to me. I have not seen him for over a decade, but I recall him as a thoughtful and observant academic. His prose is beautiful and reminds me of the Utah I love and miss. Scott's book has contributed to the rousing of vivid memories of my brother and dreams I had of him in the past. I look forward to finishing the book (I am half way through). I miss being young. I miss Utah. I miss my brother.

I have my own story to tell; adoption, fear of abandonment, love lost and the death of my brother. I punished myself for 15 years by abusing alcohol and abandoning the part of me I loved most. I found redemption and a metaphorical resurrection through an old love rekindled and the birth of a son. I wish I had the time, resources and ability to write my own book. This journal is a poor man's substitute. Memories are not etched in stone, but woven into the tattered fabric of subjectivity.
fatherson

(no subject)

I hit a deer today while driving a company vehicle. The impact of the collision did not kill the deer, but did immobilize it with a couple of broken legs (to go with whatever other internal injuries/broken bones I could not identify). I had to sit there for an hour and a half while waiting for the Department of Wildlife to arrive and euthanize him. He struggled to move around but finally rested where he could look directly at me while we waited.

It's such an empty feeling to look into the eyes of an animal whose helpless suffering is due to your own actions. It was the longest hour and a half I can remember and I still feel terrible.
fatherson

(no subject)

I have successfully imported both of my LJ journals and comments to Dreamwidth under the Kazatasupa handle. I’m fairly excited to have my online journaling life housed in one place. I wish I had acted less impulsively and waited to begin the import until I had finished my tagging/making public entries project. Now, if I wish both locations to be available, I’ll have to double my efforts. I might leave LJ alone, and just work on the Dreamwidth side of things… I don’t yet know.

I’ve been riding my mountain bike (with a few exceptions) to work every day for over a month, but yesterday was the first time in a week that I have been able to get out for any distance. I rode a bit over seven miles after work and felt great in doing so. I’ve lost 23.4 pounds thus far, and am shooting for an end goal of losing 100 pounds total. 220 has always been my “feel best” weight, and I want to be an active dad. The only way I can see myself being the dad I envision is to be fit.

I’ve had a life-long bad habit of getting into shape for backpacking season, then letting myself go as summer fades into winter. At nearly 45 years, I don’t think the yo-yo dieting is going to be conducive to long-term health, so I need to fight my old habits to stay in shape year round and for the duration of my life. That’s the goal. I hope documenting it here helps…

I’m using Strava, Google Fit and Myplate apps to document my progress. I’m a bit fan of Strava and anything google, but haven’t decided how I feel about Myplate yet – though, in fairness, it seems to do a better job at calorie counting than other apps I have used in the past. I just don’t know how useful the application is to me. My biggest issue is not the quality of foods I eat, but the helpings. I have always stuffed myself to deal with stress, anxiety, depression, etc. and a calorie counting app isn’t going to fix that. Alternative methods (ie, exercise) to dealing with the negatives in life are more necessary to my health plan than calorie counting. But, part of me gets off on tracking minute details like calories…

I told Marie that I want to hike the Pacific Crest Trail when Warrick is old enough. He’ll probably need to be out of high school, which means 18 years (that will put me at 63) until we can do it. I plan on working until I am 65, so I’ll have to take a leave of absence from work to accomplish that goal. Taking non-paid leave will be the easy part, keeping in shape for the next 18 years will be the challenge.
fatherson

(no subject)

We're experiencing a nice break in the weather today. It's sunny and warm enough to do yard work in a t-shirt. I cleared the remaining limbs from the tree-work I did on my property a couple of weeks ago and was getting ready to take my mountain bike for a spin, but was called into work instead...

It's supposed to storm again for the next five days. All of the work I've put into getting back into shape is slipping away from me with this late-winter surge of moisture. I've lost nearly 22 pounds and had been gaining strength and endurance on my bike, but every day I miss due to work/weather is dragging me down. It's been a frustrating week and a half.

I just got a call. I've got to drive an hour south for work. *sigh*
fatherson

(no subject)

I've made public posts through October 24th, 2002.

I'm looking forward to the warmth that is forcast for tomorrow. I hope to finish clearing some brush from my property, go for a bike ride and then finish tomorrow's afternoon on my patio with a stout martini and a few friends for company.
fatherson

(no subject)

My son has his first "real" cold. He woke about 4 this morning unable to breathe. Marie got up with him for an hour, then handed him off to me. I sat with him propped up against my chest and quietly sang as he fell back asleep. His rattle and wheeze dissipated into quite breathing as I whispered sweet nothings into his ear. He woke a bit after 7, which allowed me little time to drink coffee and prepare for work. I guzzled my joe, and barrelled through the morning routines, making it to work with seconds to spare.

I've never felt a love so profound and a rushed morning has never been so worth it.
  • Current Mood: chipper chipper
  • Current Music: Maggie May - Rod Stewart
fatherson

(no subject)

I’ve now made public posts through October 16th of 2002.

The new TOS agreement LJ has forced users to accept did not settle well with me. I had to meditate on the benefits of continuing use of the service that has held such a sacred place in my heart for over 15 years. After chewing on the issue for a couple of days I determined that I am still going to use LJ, but that I am going to back up my archived journal on Dreamwidth while all new posts will be made on both sites. At this point, I am not currently worried about losing any content on LJ, but I would be upset if I lost any, or all of this particular record of me. I’m just playing it safe.

Dreamwidth seems a bit “clunky” to me, but I haven’t taken the time to fool around much with their themes yet. I’ll do so when time permits. The thing I am most looking forward to is merging my two LJ accounts into one account on Dreamwidth. There was a time when having multiple accounts on LJ served a purpose for me; I thought each account was like a chapter in life. I’ve had four accounts over the 15+ years I’ve used the site. One of which I deleted and one I can’t remember the password for (I no longer have the email that would be used to reclaim control of it). Of those two, one was short lived (I used it for a month or less, the other was a fabricated character that I played with for a short while). It will be nice to have everything under one account so that I, or my son (when he’s old enough – or I’m gone) can easily peruse my online journaling life.

I wish LJ allowed for merging of accounts. That would be ideal. Then I would find another means for backup, rather than using 2 sites.
fatherson

(no subject)

I am an adopted child.

I was born in May of 1972 and adopted by my parents six weeks after my birth.  The people that had me for the first six weeks of my life called me “Marty,” which my mother always told me was a play on the last name of my birth mother.  My mom, Sherri, was able to see the legal record of my birth when she was signing the final papers on my adoption.  California’s records on adoption are sealed, and getting access to them are quite difficult.  She thought the judge left the legal record in eye sight for her benefit should she choose to let me know that I was adopted.

I recall knowing that I was adopted from the earliest age.  I once asked my father what being adopted meant and he replied, “you know in your cartoon when the stork brings the baby to the doorstep?”  “Yes,” I replied.”  “That’s kind of how we got you, only people brought you to us, not a bird.”  “Were you adopted dad?”  “No son.”  “Was mom?” “No son, just you.”  I knew that my mother had carried my baby brother in her belly and had given birth to him, so it was easy to understand that I wasn’t born the same way.  Intellectually, being adopted was never an issue – it was just part of who I was.  You can read posts in this journal to understand that I felt like adoption had left psychological scars on me, and there are certainly a lot of studies that show a correlation to certain types of feelings and behaviors that adoption plays in a child’s development.  Whether my issues were adoption related, or not – I’ll never really know.

I searched looked for my biological mother in my 20’s.  While I worked at the library, I would use down time to scour the internet and adoption search sites looking for a match.  I was always looking for answers in California because that is where I was born.  My mother shared the information that she could best recollect from judge’s desk: My name at birth was Leroy Duane Martin, my mother’s name (I’ll not share it to protect her privacy), age (29), occupation, father’s name (Duane Leroy Martin) and sibling information.  I found promising leads in California, but never hit on any of them.  By the time I had reached my 40’s I had given up searching for my biological family and doubted my mother’s memory regarding the information she claimed to have seen.
In the last couple of years, enormous changes were happening in my life: my wife and I were expecting our first child (the first for either of us).  We were both quite wild in our younger years and waited until our late 30’s to settle down.   So, the change beginning with pregnancy was quite drastic for both of us.  I’m a sentimental man and started to feel a need to preserve some family history for my coming child.  I sat down to map out my heritage but was stunned when my interest stopped at my grandparents.  I didn’t feel connected to any of the ancestors that I did not know.  I know I was raised in a culture that these people helped cultivate, but I couldn’t find any motivation to research their lines.  I lacked the curiosity to continue.

Around that time I had been hearing commercials on SiriusXM about DNA testing on Ancestry.com and decided to give that a shot to see if I could learn anything about my genetic heritage.  The only information I had, aside from some names, was that I owned British, German and Indian blood lines.  I ordered the kit, spit in the lab tube, mailed it off and waited for six weeks.
I was at a Lions Club meeting when my results came in.  I was notified via email and ran home to check my results!  I was hoping for a second cousin match (a first cousin if I was really lucky!) so that I could paint a picture of the family I came from.  I logged in and stared at my results for what seemed like hours:  a direct match to my biological mother and her name was the same that my adoptive mother had told me 25 years earlier (my mother had misremembered my biological mother’s middle name, but the first and last were dead on).  I started to cry.   I rushed to judgement in thinking that my biological mother must be looking for me, as well!  Why else would she post a public DNA profile on one of the best, if not the best DNA search sites?  Without much thought, I quickly wrote a message on Ancestry and sent it to her.  She never replied.

I did a lot of research on my biological mother.  She is a life-long resident of Kansas (my California birth is a mystery).  I found her siblings through findagrave.com and researched the surviving sisters on Facebook.  I found pictures of another cousin who looks eerily similar to me (this was an amazing event, given I had been raised by a family of people whom I bear no resemblances).  I have refrained from reaching out to any of them, as I would prefer to have the blessing of my mother before doing so.  I was able to find multiple email accounts that my mother had used over the last 20 years and sent an email to her using all of them.  All but one was rejected by domain servers, so I was fairly confident in the one address.  I have since emailed her 3 or 4 more times, but have not received a reply.

I started looking for other DNA tests and uploaded my RAW DNA from Ancestry to FamilytreeDNA.com.  It was an inexpensive alternative to sending in for another lab kit.  I waited a couple of days and had the fortune of hitting another close match.  I didn’t know if this person (Jill) was a half-sibling, aunt or 1st cousin, but we were a strong, close genetic match.  At first glance, I didn’t recognize any of the surnames and thought she had to be a match on my biological father’s side.  I fired off a quick email to her and in short time had a reply.

Jill was not from my paternal side, but the niece of my biological mother, my first cousin.  She shared a little information about her with me, but not too much.  We both agreed that my mother should have the privilege of allowing me to get to know her.  She did share the family tree with me which was enlightening.  To see, for the first time, pictures of ancestors who are of your own blood is ground-moving.  I was overcome with emotion and gratefulness for my new-found cousin and her openness to me.
I have about 15 to 20 close matches on my biological father’s side.  They are all second-cousin type matches.  Unfortunately, he came from a long line of huge Mennonite families and a second cousin match puts me in the town but doesn’t really get me close to the ballpark of my search.

I am still holding out hope that my biological mother will choose to communicate with me.  It has been almost a year since I first reached out.  I think about her every day, and am terrified of the thought that we may never have a conversation.  It is strange loving someone you’ve never met.  My love for her has always been a force in my life.  I hope that, despite the silence on her end, that there is a part of her who feels the same towards me.