In a previous post, I alluded to my having a complex (yet fascinating!) family history. Because of a phone call I received yesterday and my desire to report on that phone call, I'm going to be required to share some of that complex and fascinating family history.
I was given life in a happy, loving home. Sadly, that particular version of a happy, loving home was destined to not last very long. Due to some medical issues, etc., I was separated from my mother for what was supposed to be a short period of time but wound up to be, for all intents and purposes, permanent. My father moved with my brother and me about a thousand miles away from where my mother was and I didn't see her or talk to her again until I was fifteen. (This is where you may be excused to reach for a tissue. I still occasionally do when I think about it.)
(This is not part of today's story, but you need to know that I have a lovely relationship with mother. She has been a major influence in my life and still is today. She is a huge source of strength for me during this recent unpleasantness.)
Meanwhile, my father soldiered on - trying to find a way to make a life for him and his two little boys. I must have been 4 and Kevin would have been 2, maybe 3. My dad found some work but was stymied by what to do with his boys. He sent out a plea asking if there was a family that could take his boys during the week while he worked. A lovely, loving couple with 5 kids (or so - can't remember for sure) of their own and a farm answered the call.
I don't know how long we spent with Bob and Pat White. Probably 6 months or so all told. What I do know, is that the time we were with them are some of the first memories I have in life. In retrospect, this had to have been a significantly traumatic time in the lives of my brother and me. Uprooted geographically. Where's mama? How come daddy's never around? Yet Bob and Pat were like these two huge pillars of solidity and support. They were as close to having two present parents as those two little boys could have hoped for.
So... my phone rings yesterday. There's some gruff sounding male voice on the other end saying "I'll bet you have no idea who this is calling you." I told him he was right but let me guess. He gave me a clue. "In about 1965, you lived with me." Well, there was only one person that could be. It was Bob White. He's going to be 80 this year and Pat, who's 81, was right there with him. I hadn't talked to either of them for at least 20 years, and then maybe twice since those very early years.
I talked to them both for an half hour or so, catching up with family stuff... reminiscing. Keep in mind these are basically the earliest events in my life about which I'm capable of reminiscing. Before my dad met my 2nd official mommy (still his current and beloved wife), there were several surrogate mommy situations, but none had quite the impact that Bob and Pat White did.
Today's celebration is easy - we celebrate Bob and Pat White. Surely they are angels in disguise.
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