Dear Aunt Patty,
This is my story. Its very long and convoluted so I will hit only
the high areas.
My adopted parents were married in 1927. This was an era when being
married and not having children was to some extent, a matter of
concern. After all, Irene Dunn and Cary Grant were on the silver
screen touting the wonderful state of adoption and what it would mean
to a child.
My adopting parents were unable to have biological children.
Additionally, they were old by accepted adoption standards. As a
result, they resorted to the black market because it could provide a
child on an almost immediate basis.
In 1931 they went to the Veil Hospital in W. Chester, PA and adopted
a child. That child lived until 1934 when he died at age 3. My
adopting parents waited till 1935 and went back to the same hospital
for unwed mothers, and adopted me. In those days we were each worth
$1000.00.
My adopting parents took me to a foreign country where my 1st
stepmother lived until I was 3. When she died in 1938, this left my
adopting father as an unwilling single parent, with a child he didn't
want.
Two years later, when I was 5, my father married his 2nd wife. My
hopes and dreams were that a 2nd "Mother" would be family, and I
could be like the rest of my peers...there would be cookies, cake
and pie, clean clothes and bed time stories. These were hopeful
fantasies for which a 5 year old longs, but they remained just
that...a hopeful fantasy.
In my fathers 2nd marriage, I became suspect and tainted and an
outsider. I lived in a family with 2 parents who were not
mine....something was missing... but I didnt know how to search for
the missing links.... I was lost...grappling for goals I didnt know
how to find.
There was an ongoing fear of abandonment, or worse, being turned out
onto the street. I knew I would need to work, and the circus was a
place where by feeding the animals, I could earn enough to eat. If
there was no place to sleep, I would sleep in the animal tents.
There was every form of abuse. The words of adults were law and they
were all that mattered. I prayed everyday to a God who never answered.
In some respects I was reminded of Pinocchio. His only desire was to
be a real boy. I wanted only to be allowed into a family.
I became the family caretaker. Daily I tried to find ways to gain
value and worth. I found I could be entertaining and I hoped this
might provide a pathway to family acceptance. It was however, too
late. I had been sentenced to being an outsider, and there I would
remain. Simply a clown with a broken heart.
In the end I learned to depend only on myself. If there was to be any
hope for the future, I would have to provide it.
I put myself through school and had a successful career in
healthcare. The people I helped and cared for, never knew the depth
of my concern or the extent of my empathy for them and their story.
It has been a very long time since those early events took place. I
have searched for my birth family for 45 years.
My black market story like so many others in a black market system,
will remain unresolved. We have become survivors. For all survivors,
there is hope and we are not different.....if only for an instant,
someone cared about us.
Anyone wishing to contact me may do so and I would be happy to share
any information concerning the Veil Hospital or black market adoption.
Although I am not an attorney, I do have some working knowledge of the
PA court system.
Bob
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