Who am I?

It’s never been a secret to me. I am adopted. I have two sisters and I am the youngest. The oldest, Paige, is adopted also. Pam the middle child was a happy accident of Mom getting pregnant. Nothing wrong with either Mom or Dad… just oil and vinegar in terms of reproductive genes. Well no one is ever 100% right. But three was the perfect number so my parents made it known that they would love a son. One call in November1969 telling them come pick up their son. I’m sure it’s way more complicated than that, but… That’s truly how I always want it to be.

My Daddio tells the story of driving from Las Cruces to Albuquerque to pick me up. A rainy day and the thick smell of mesquite was everywhere. So much as that single smell he says is his most vivid remembrance of anything, And quite possibly the most important in his life. Sure, when I was a preteen he’d sometimes call me billygoat… boys smell I guess, but that was more in jest. If you’ve never been in the middle of a desert after a hard rain, the mesquite smell is unique and quite memorable… Woody and wet. Like most things that you can’t associate to specific time and place, through the story of my father, that’s the smell I remember and I always knew what it was before I ever even experienced.

People ask me, do I feel the need to find my real parents? I’ve always looked at them crossed eyed… I know my real parents so what the fuck are you asking me? They raised me, I know nothing else. Who else could be more real?

So get to the point, Scott… oh yeah. The point… I’ve never really questioned much of where I came from. I have minor details of my “birth” mother and such. Haven’t looked at the papers in years… but I’ve always questioned my eyes. The Mongolian flap, or epicanthal folds, or chinese  eyes. I’ve kinda sorta been aware of them my entire life… Never was made fun of, never degraded or anything but they were different and I noticed.

I sometimes, even to this day joke that I was found in a papoose at the side of a river and my parents just took me home. Totally know this is not true but I still joke about it. A rejected asian or native american or something. I was different. Truth be told, other than actual asians or native americans I don’t ever remember ever seeing a “white” boy with eyes like mine. Just haven’t I guess. Either cause i never cared or it’s never something I’ve ever seen.

The picture is probably 4th grade? Maybe 5th. I remember braces in 5th grade, not 4th and i remember my 5th grade pic and I don’t think this was it. 5th grade had a different feel and this was not it. 6th grade had a feel but this is not it. But I look to old to be in 4th grade. Heck I don’t know. There are specific things and times and events I life I remember… but this I cannot. But I can’t deny the braces and the hair, and the eyes. Yup, that’s a Mongolian flap for sure, It’s different, I’m different.