Classic Vinyl
How a former rock goddess unlocked the secrets of my adoptee past.
My math, which is admittedly sub-par, put Barb at about sixty-eight. My mind painted her as grey-haired, apple-cheeked, and grandmotherly. I expected a whisper of a woman–a sort of folksong, maybe smooth jazz. I got nothing of the sort. What I got was pure rock and roll.
“Welcome to the family!” she gushed. She sounded more Gen Z than Boomer, her voice syrupy sweet, girly, and loud. I reduced the volume on my earbuds. She was not a soft-spoken woman.“I just knew you’d find us someday. What took you so long?”
What took me so long? Well, it took me 49 years to begin my search, to admit to myself I even wanted to search. That was followed by about a year of frantic digging, bounding down rabbit holes, combing through formerly sealed and still somewhat redacted records, and deciphering DNA. I found nearly everyone BUT my biological mother. I had all but given up as the new year opened with me, and the mystery of me, unresolved.
That very month, though, January of 2020, everything sped up, like a record played at the wrong speed. With the assistance of a Confidential Intermediary/Searcher, I was able to confirm…
