50th Year Letter


By this time of the morning on June 01, 1968 our son had been born, and I imagine that you were already making plans for your return to college and getting on with your life. The pregnancy was a huge interruption to your life, and as an integral part to that, I continue to carry remorse. However, I do not regret persuading you to bear the child and not have an abortion. You had all the rights to him in that time, so he was given up for adoption.

You never complained to me after his birth about the semester you lost in college and the lost time in your budding science career. In the few months we managed to stay together after June 01, 1968 you never blamed me for the pregnancy. In fact, we even made some plans for marriage after you graduated, but you met someone, and we drifted apart. The last time we shared was a brief meeting one early summer afternoon next to the Inner Circle Theatre on Pennsylvania Avenue in D.C.

His adoptive parents made the opportunity for him, on his 18th birthday, to meet us,  his biological parents. He told me that he had met you during your lunch hour in Hopewell, and they then drove to Alexandria where he and I shared time, and I met his adoptive parents and sister. Strangely enough, she was the child of two college friends of mine during 1967-’68 and was adopted by Doris and Carl Parke, too. He told me that you had a good career in Hopewell and were married, but that was all he shared about you.

It would be a lie if I said I have never wondered where and how you are. The internet has been, a few times, a true temptation to type in your name and see what appeared on the screen. But that would be an intrusion into your life that seemed unjust, so I stiff-armed the urge, but at times continued to be reminded of or thought of you.

I know nothing of your life. But I wonder if you ever had other children, where you have lived, what was your career (science, likely), and if you have had joy in your life. I hope so. On June 01 do you remember giving him birth? Do you ever wonder where he is and what kind of life he has had? I hope so.

After he and I met in 1986, we did not communicate, but I did give him contact with my sister Sandra and brother Terry. He met my mother, too, and was a part of that. Eventually, after I felt I could, he and I re-connected, and have for the past twenty years shared life. He has met my other children and they all enjoy each other. He is married and has a daughter and is a fine educator. He is a liberal arts person, not a scientific one like you. But, fortunately, he inherited your intellect.

Fifty years ago you and I made the best decisions that we could given our circumstances. You have, I hope, gone the way you desired and have now reached the age of bliss—otherwise known as retirement. Perhaps you are now free of the pressures brought on by career building, finances, and maybe, children. Perhaps you are in the place where you could afford to know him and share some of his life. It is not too late, and to know him will enrich your life.

Blessings for you and yours,





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