Fathers and Sons On this Father’s Day, it seems almost impossible to read through FB without seeing a post in celebration of Fathers around the country. I admit I’ve read many of them, touched of course by the photos and sentiments and yet a bit removed as I don’t have a Father in my life anymore…or do I? My story is a bit different from the traditional Mom, Dad, Daughter and Son families I grew up surrounded by. As an adopted child I, as of yet have never met my birth Father or Mother. In a strange stroke of luck years back I met one of my blood brothers, Bill Bowser, who actually found me. It was an amazing moment to be sure and we actually grew up near each other even attending rival high schools, I in Durham NH and he in Somersworth NH. He’s two years younger than I am and today lives in Tennessee with his wife and family. He had access to some then private information about all of us and I was to find out that there were 6 children in total. I chuckled inside as I had longed to live like the Brady Bunch and now to find out we could have all filled that tic-tac-toe box in the shows beginning thrilled me to no end, although I don’t know if we would have had an “Alice” in the center box or not. Bill went on to locate our natural Mother and was never contacted by her after she was made aware of his search for her. A story far to familiar for adopted kids who go in search of their blood family members. No matter for me, I was completely satisfied to have connected with Bill. Of course I often wonder what my parents look like, what my siblings look like, if they are still alive and of course what happened to them, especially with 6 children. It was the 1960s so maybe they were cool hippies, who went to Woodstock, and wore beads and played guitars. Free love after all. I suspect their lives weren’t so free and easy however. It doesn’t consume me very much these days besides a fleeting thought. I was adopted at age 3 into an amazing family, the Fullers. My fathers name is Enoch Doble Fuller, Jr. Sounded impressive to me even as a young child. Enoch Sr. had already passed on so I never got to meet him, and his mother Abbie lived with us for many years in the hotel my parents owned. Since I didn’t take my Fathers full name, I never became Enoch the 3rd. Joshua Enoch Fuller would have to do. Or Greg Brady would have been cool too. My Mother, Marylou Jordan would fill the role of all things maternal and paternal as Enoch passed away when I was just 11 and my sister Amey was 8. I never got to meet Marylou’s Father, Guysbert Bogart Vroom Jordan either. These names sound so elegant and regal to me and still do. They grew up in Bryn Mawr Pennsylvania and he was sadly stricken with polio and passed away when she was a teenager. Her Mother, Corinne also lived with us at the hotel. I had a few “uncles” of the family and a Godfather as well, but these men didn’t have much impact on my life to my memory. Maybe at the time they did but as a five and six year old, they just seemed like old men to me. I often think of Enoch and what his life was like. He graduated from U.N.H. with a degree from their hotel and hospitality program. I wonder what he was like on campus. Was he outgoing and liked by all? Was he a loner and introvert? Was he a smooth dresser attracting all the women? Was he a party animal? He had brilliant red hair and was even nicknamed Red. I do know he was a hard worker as he had said many times, running a hotel is a 365 day, 7 day a week operation. I know he was a sharp dresser from all the photos I have of him and of course being the hotel owner, he was constantly in the front of the house greeting all the guests, pouring drinks in the bar and got there in the mornings before anyone else was awake and left after the last cocktail was served into the wee hours of the morning. I imagine he was very tired. Sadly my memories of him are few. I think I’ve put a very heavy wall up surrounding him and my memories of him; as to lose a parent so young is extremely painful. Fortunately my Mom took loads of photos so I can squeeze out memories of him, of us, of things we did together, moments in time. In her retirement years she even wrote a book about their lives as hoteliers. The book is called “There’s a Horse in the Ladies Room” and is a wonderful tribute to Enoch. Those photos of him and us are in my storage unit and I will post one as soon as I can get that damn unit cleaned out. I’m a procrastinator. I wonder if I got that from Enoch or not? From the photos our family did many things together, traveling, going out for special occasions, summering in lake communities around New England, taking trips to far off strange lands like Boston and Philadelphia to see the circus and visit family members ( no, not in the circus). It was evident in the photographs and I know he loved me and my sister and especially our Mother very much. So on this Fathers Day I celebrate and am grateful each day for having the family I do today. To Enoch, wherever you are, I know each day you did the best you could do. Through all the highs and lows of your life you left us to go out into the world and show true genuine care for people, to have respect for the people in this world and the planet. To show us affection and when all else fails, put on a suit coat and cuff links and show up with a smile on. You had the ability and the courage to adopt not one but 2 children, to love us and to care for us. You left this world way to early and I wish you could see what pretty amazing kids we have grown up to become. Or maybe you can? Thanks Dad.
Posted on: Sun, 15 Jun 2014 21:26:11 +0000
Trending Topics
Recently Viewed Topics
© 2015