What I am

I went to the doctor today. Not for anything wrong, just a checkup. But any trip to the doctor brings something to the forefront of my mind that is, usually, way in the back. Something I don't even think about for weeks at a time. It comes shooting forward when I am filling out the paperwork, and they ask about family history and whether or not my mom or my grandmother has had cancer or diabetes or heart disease.

I have no idea.

I really don't. And not just because Jan and Dick are tight-lipped. I am adopted.

It's not something I put on my business cards, but it's obviously not a secret. (And before you ask, I was an infant, and my sister was not adopted.)

So I wrote what I usually do on my paperwork. "I am adopted, so I have no idea." This was a new doctor, so we sat in her office while she looked through my "novel." She held up that paper and said that she actually sees that a lot. There was an option to get a series of blood tests and genetic testing. But my insurance won't cover it, and, as a rule, I don't volunteer for things that have to do with needles and blood.

I have no access to my medical history. By New York State law, those records are sealed. I did register with the state in order to maybe get non-identifying medical information. But I only get anything IF my birth parents or a sibling registers as well. IF. I did get the information that New York did have on file. It's a bit out of date, since it's 37 years old, but now I know where I get my allergies and big, curly hair.

I asked for non-identifying medical information, because I don't really want to know who they are. I am not looking for parents. I have parents. And a sister, and a whole family that is awesome and that I love very much. And I know they feel the same about me. Plus, I don't want to intrude on any one's life. And I don't want my life to turn into some crazy episode of Oprah.

There actually is a bill in the NYS Assembly and in the NYS Senate that, if passed, will allow adult adoptees access to their original birth certificate. Another IF. So, there would be a way I can find out my medical history. But I'd have to find out who they are, and I don't think I want to do that.

But I do want to know who I am. Or, at the very least, know what I should check off on all that paperwork.

The sound of silence

Well, more like the sound of the gentle hum of the dryer.

It's the sound of clean clothes, but it's also the sound of company gone. Everyone used to come to our house for Labor Day weekend. My aunts and uncles and cousins. We would cook a big pot of my Grandpa's clam chowder, laugh, argue. It was great. Everyone had fun spending time together.

Then, on Monday, everyone would leave in the early afternoon. And the house was a weird sort of quiet. Nothing but the sound of towels and sheets in the washer and dryer. No more loud voices and kids playing. Just laundry, and the tail end of the Jerry Lewis Telethon.

I've had three guests since I moved to Florida that stayed with me. (Jan & Dick came too, but they stayed at a hotel.) And each time, we had a a lot of fun. But then they went home, and there was the weird silence again, just the sound of laundry instead of laughing. Then I let out the air in the air mattress, and folded all the sheets and towels, and emptied the dishwasher, and it's almost like they were never here at all. But in that weird silence, I remember that they were, and that it was fun while it lasted. I can't wait until the next visitor, whoever it might be.

At least they know I have clean sheets and towels.

Blind Luck

Well I didn't win, but I came in a quite respectable THIRD PLACE!!! That's $85 for not knowing/caring anything about the NCAA other than you get to bet on it.

What more in the name of love

Early morning, April 4
Shot rings out in the Memphis sky
Free at last, they took your life
They could not take your pride

— "Pride (In the Name of Love)," U2

But I get the milk for free

My high school reunion is coming up next summer. And since I moved recently, I wanted to make sure I was not on a "missing" list in case any information had come out. So I went to my school's web page and clicked on the handy Alumni tab, only to be greeted with this message:

Visitors to the alumni section: Due to chronic abuse, we have discontinued the guestbook feature of our website. While most people were respectful and used the guestbook for its intended purpose, several individuals saw the guestbook feature not as a way to reconnect with former classmates, but to post immature, inappropriate and objectionable material. We encourage you to use sites like Classmates.com, MySpace.com and Facebook.com to connect with your fellow SV alumni.

Now, I am going to bet that the people in my class were not responsible for the kind of tomfoolery that would force the school to take down a section of their site dedicated to supposed responsible adults. I can't see anyone in my class actually caring enough to take the time. I could be wrong, but I would lay money on generations X, Y and/or Z as the douche bags that make the rest of us look like we can't be mature. Thanks.

I have a myspace page already, and I've been hesitant about getting a Facebook one simply because I don't have the energy to keep up with it all, and worry about making it fancy or interesting. That's what this page is for. How'm I doing??

There is nothing on myspace that would resemble a group for the class of 1989, so I went to classmates.com. There are a lot of my classmates there. So I filled out the free profile thing, and even went so far as to pick a picture different than my myspace one. Variety and spice you know. I looked around at some of my former classmates' pages. Chuckled at how cool they think they (still?) are. (As a side note here, I own the fact that I was an apple-polishing geek in high school. You could probably tell that by my continuing love of George Michael, but I just thought I'd acknowledge it.)

You get to tell a little story about yourself and what you've been up to since high school. And then you get to take a little quiz. Kind of like those Internet quizzes we do, but it's all Q&A. There is no room to expand or make your own comments. They ask what your favorite outdoor activity is, and there is no box for "none of the above," or "why in the world would I camp when there are perfectly good hotels," or "why should I fish when you can buy it at the store." So my creativity was a bit stifled. As an added bonus on your profile, under Interests, it randomly chooses some of your answers to the Q&A. So there are times when my interests are cats, disco and reading. Could I possibly be more fascinating?

Now comes the kicker. In this day and age of myspace and facebook and all the other social pages there are, Classmates.com actually wants you to pay money to email/contact anyone with a profile. Huh? Pay money to talk to people that if I actually wanted to talk to them I probably would be doing that all on my own anyway? Seriously? I chuckled at that. And they are so wise, too. They won't "let" you put your myspace page or blog or email address in your story, to tip people off as to where they can reach you for free. You can get around that though, so they aren't THAT smart. Do people actually pay to be on classmates, when myspace et al are free? Because I certainly will not be. I mean, why buy the cow...

My boy, George

I feel I should explain my back-to-back George Michael tribute. As some of you know, I love me some 80s music. And I love going to concerts. Growing up, I didn't get to see my favorite bands, because they all went to legitimate venues in Syracuse and NYC. We residents of Bingo-town got to choose from Ratt, Poison, Great White, Motley Crue. It was hair band central. Oh, and Cinderella, because the drummer is from there (my mom was his math teacher). AND, being that my mom was a teacher, or because she was over protective or was just a great big buzz kill (sorry Jan, but...), I didn't get to see my favorite bands in their heyday. I saw no Madonna. I saw no Duran Duran or Prince. And I didn't see Wham!. I did get to see Night Ranger and Starship, but only after Jan did her research to see if Night Ranger was a "drug" band. Funny how her research didn't lead her to the conclusion that Starship used to be Jefferson Starship, which used to be Jefferson Airplane and that song wasn't really about Alice in Wonderland.

But I digress.

I was lucky enough to move to a big city that welcomed all kinds of bands, especially those of the retro variety (I even got to see Night Ranger a couple more times). I got to see Madonna finally (TWICE), and my friend Paige and I were present for the true and complete five-member reunion tour of Duran Duran. I hung my Duran Duran poster up behind my desk at work for a week before the show (Yeah, I still have it). It was at the Tabernacle, which is tiny, and filled to capacity with screaming 30-something women. My ears rang for days and I loved every second of it! And then we saw his Royal Purpleness. In a word, it was incredible. Every hair on my whole body was standing up. For a short, skinny little man, he is a sexy mother fucker. It's all in the attitude.

And now, my 80s circle will be complete, because George Michael is touring this summer! And I bought my tickets to the show! I am going to see George Michael! Laugh if you want, but I was not the only one who squealed like a teenager when the tour was announced (Paige. Amy. Maybe Chris.). Now if only I still had THAT poster... (JAN!)