|
"Dorothy's
story is why I help hunt for people."
Now
that I am the oldest member of the family left, I can talk
about a story that at one time could not be spoken.
My
story begins in 1953, Waltham Massachusetts
When
I was six, my sister was four. The year was 1953. Our parents
had separated and my grandfather had tried to take on the
responsibility of raising us. My grandmother had died in 1949.
My mother was trying to live her life, my father the same,
which left little room for us. I guess my grandfather decided
to handle what he could. I don't know all those things, I
was too young to remember and far too young to understand.
As
young as I was, I knew things were happening. I knew that
things were going to change. This time it had to do with my
sister. I must have had some idea of what was going on because
one day she was there, then she was gone.
At
that time, the word adoption had no meaning to me, so the
days leading up to my sister leaving was not understood by
me. For years, I would ask where she was and why did she go.
In those day's nobody would talk about those things. And in
my case, it only made me mad. The following year my mother
remarried, and I was still living with my grandfather. I guess
I became a real behavior problem because I was always in trouble
at home and then outside the house as well. My grandfather
and I were close but he would never discuss the topic of my
sister and what had happened to her. By the time I was ten,
I was a walking problem.
In
the summer of 1959 my grandfather and I went to Margaree Valley,
Nova Scotia to visit his sisters and their families. I remembered
that trip for many years and in the spring of 1969 went there
myself. I arrived at 2 in the morning in the valley and the
only house I could remember was Uncle Albert's. So, I knocked
on the door and after a few minutes he answered. Of course,
the last time he saw me was 10 years prior so he did not have
a clue who I was. His question was, "What can I do for
you at this hour?".
I
explained that I wanted to rent one of his cabins . He looked
at me and said "I haven't rented those cabins for years."
I
said "Well, the last time I stayed here was in 1959."
He
looked at me and said "With who?"
I
said "My grandfather, Hiram Phillips."
"Come
in boy, come in."
Then
he got everyone up in the house to re- introduce me to the
family. We talked until 4 then everyone went back to bed.
I slept on the couch until 8 o'clock then asked for directions
to my aunt Jessie, Hiram's sister's house.
I
told Albert I would be back before I headed back to Massachusetts.
I followed the paved road almost to the iron bridge, took
the dirt road and followed the sign to Portree.
As
I traveled this road, I can remember the last time I was there
in 1959 . When I turn left I remember the old house with the
big porch. I arrived and knocked at the back door and this
little lady opened the door and stood there a minute.
"Albert!"
she said, I said I was. I told her I arrived in the middle
of the night and the only thing I could remember was Albert's
house in Margaree center.
Jessie
then said, "When you come to Margaree you come to my
house. I am your grandfather's sister, closer blood than Albert;
he was a second cousin of ours."
I
did learn from Jessie about family; hers, mine, my grandfather's
and a number of other families in the valley. After my first
visit, I was to visit there twice a year at least and sometimes
more.
In
November of 1971, I happened to be at Jessie's , when I got
a call from Massachusetts that my grandfather was in the hospital
and I should come home. I came back in time to be with him
before he died. After he was buried, I was given a few pictures
that were in his personal belongings; one a picture of my
sister dated 1959.
Then,
I knew that he had known all those years where she was and
with who yet never told me. That day I went to the cemetery
and told him that I remembered my sister and and would not
forget her and one day I would find her and bring her there
to visit his grave.
Eighteen
years would pass before that would happen because I did not
have a clue as to how to go about getting the information
needed to search. Everyone told me that the records were closed
that it was too long ago, leave it alone or too many people
will get hurt. All that is true but sometimes the need to
know is stronger.
As
things happen, a friend was with me one day in Boston. We
had a house guest and the wife was working, I volunteered
a trip to Boston. Gail Hirst, a family friend, decided she
would like to join us on a trip to Boston.
Gail
and I had planned to visit the Massachusetts Archives as part
of the day trip, in my case to look into the Civil War names
I had been researching. I sat there thinking, "if I can
look at over 100 years ago and come forward why couldn't I
look at the 50's and come forward?"
I
was looking at the 1949 index of births when Gail came over
and said "I thought you were working on The Civil War
time span."
I
gave her a 5 minute story of my missing sister. Gail is a
professional Genealogist, so as I tell her the little I know.
She asked when and where this took place and I told her. "There
may be a part of the record that never got sealed," Gail
said.
We
end up in the courthouse and she is right. So, after 36 years
I now have a name, location and the starting point to locate
my sister.
Gail
checked out a town near where I would be going, and she confirmed
that the family was still there after all these years. The
family meaning "Mrs. A..." only, the woman who adopted
my sister. I had to go there to sort out the rest.
On
April 19 1989, I boarded a train out of Boston, bound for
Churchville, Maryland . The next morning, I arrived in Baltimore
and drove to Belaire . There I spent the best part of the
day at the local library looking at town street directories
and high school year books searching for a my sister's senior
class picture. There was none.
That
evening, I looked for the address that I knew would give me
the answers I needed should there be no other way. Then on
Saturday morning I got a map of the local cemeteries and began
the search for a possible grave. My thought was, if I hadn't
found a picture, there was a possibly that my sister had died.
At the second cemetery, I found a double grave site with a
single burial of her adopted father.
At
this point I went into Smith Chapel and met Mrs. Malloy, the
church secretary. I told her I was doing some genealogical
research and wanted to ask a few questions about graves I
had found in the church yard. Mrs. Malloy told me that the
minister was new there, but that she had been around here
since the late 50's, maybe she could be of help.
Looking
around the church I saw a pew that had the family name "A..."
on it and said that is one of the families I was working on
outside.
Mrs.
Malloy said "Oh, do you know my friend Vera?"
I
said "No, not personally. That's one of the research
names I've been working on, though." She then started
talking about Mrs."A", that she lost her husband
in the 50's and raised her daughter Dorothy by herself. Mrs.
Malloy then said that she had taught Dorothy how to play the
piano right there at the church. "Dorothy's daughter,
Lisa was married here just last year, then she thought a minute,
you know she said, Dorothy had a brother from Massachusetts
as I remember, but know one knows whatever happened to him."
Mrs.
Malloy stopped short and looked at me and said "Here
I am talking to you and I don't even know who you are."
Sometimes
you have to make a decision, mine was to state "I'm the
brother."
She then said "You don't even know what they look like."
She
went and got the church book that had pictures of Mrs."
A" and my sister and her family.
At
that time. I realized that I had to deal with how I was going
to make the actual contact with the family, so I asked Mrs.
Malloy for 24 hours to try resolve my problem. She said, well
it's been thirty six years, what's 24 hours. For that I will
always be in debt to Mrs. Malloy.
I
drove around town for awhile, stopped and had lunch, then
called Mrs."A". At this point my thought was that
the most important person here that could be hurt by all of
this was Mrs."A" and that was not why I was here.
I
called Mrs."A" and told her that I was doing genealogical
research and Mrs. Malloy had said I should talk to her. She
said "I'm sorry, my husband died many years ago and I
can't help you with your research.". I said "Well,
my name is Al Phinney." Her response, Father or son?"
"Son." Was my answer. "Where are you now?"
"One
mile from your driveway and now that I know that my sister
is alive, I would like to give you my, address and phone number
and maybe someday, when you are comfortable, I would like
you to arrange for me to meet my sister. "
A
few seconds passed and she asked if I could give her a some
time to deal with that.
I told her I would check into a motel and let her know where
I was as I could stay until Monday.
At
the motel, I sat for the afternoon with a bag of ice, bottle
of Coke and a bottle of rum and waited to hear. Within 2 hours
the call came that they would all like to meet me at 7 PM
in the lobby of the motel.
At
7:00pm, I walked into the lobby and seeing Dorothy was like
looking at my mother maybe 25 years ago.
We
went into the bar area, took a table and introduced ourselves
. Mrs."A" came with Dorothy and her husband, Dan.
We
talked for awhile then Dan took Mrs."A" home . While
they were gone, my sister wanted to put me on the spot.
"How
do I know who you are who you say you are? How do I know this
is all true?"
I
showed her my license and she already knew the names but she
wanted to push the issue. Finally, I showed her the photo
that my grandfather had carried all those years. She looked
at it and said simply "I have the same picture at home."
Dan
came back and we all went out for dinner at a local restaurant.
Then we went to a gin mill that played rock and roll until
2 AM and Dorothy and I didn't miss a dance . We closed the
place at 2 and we parted at the motel with plans to meet the
next day at her house.
I
got up early and headed to Mrs."A"'s house and she
sent me across the street to Dorothy's house and family. I
was there only a few minutes when her daughter Lisa came into
the kitchen. She took one look at me and said, "Well,
now I finally know who I look like in the family!"
The
rest of Dorothy's children, Autumn and Danny came in and we
all talked for some time.
Later
in the day we went across the street to Mrs. "A"'s
house and talked some more. That evening, all seven of us
went out to dinner. Everyone wanted to go to the local TV
station to tell this story of our finally meeting after thirty
six years apart. I told them that was not my interest, this
was personal.
The
next afternoon I boarded a train back to Boston with the promise
of returning in June for a visit with my wife.
Once
back in Marshfield, Mrs."A" and I talked about once
a week, first about growing up , then about my memories of
1953. We just plain talked .
In
June my wife and I went down to Churchville to visit and stayed
in the area 3-4 days.
Sometime
in July, my friend Rinehart and I went to Philadelphia with
the wives for a Hair Stylist convention. While they were at
the convention, John and I drove to Churchville to visit.
When we left, I invited Dorothy to come visit us in Massachusetts
sometime and we promised to keep in touch.
Over
the next few months, we talked many times and by November
Dorothy called and asked if she could come and visit us for
her birthday. We told her to get on a train and come up. She
came and stayed a week. The evening before her birthday, we
talked about Waltham and I said I'd like to take her there
the next day to show her places from her past.
She
said, "I was so young, I wouldn't remember any of that."
I
said, "I remember."
The
morning of her 40th birthday we were in Waltham. I drove her
around the city and showed her where she had lived and where
our grandfather had lived in the 40's and early 50's.
Then
we went to the cemetery to visit. We parked at the bottom
of the hill and climbed to our grandparents headstone. I explained
that our grandmother had died in May of 1949 about 7 months
before Dorothy was born.
I
said to my grandfather's gravestone, "Hey, I told you
I'd bring Dorothy here one day. That was 18 years ago and
we are here. Dorothy asked, "What did you say?"
I
told her that the day after I buried my grandfather I promised
him that someday you would be standing here. And you are.
Up
until the actual visit was planned, I had not told my mother.
She had been living in Marshfield since 1984 when Ab (my stepfather)
had retired. He only lived 6-8 months after retirement, so
she stayed here in Marshfield. Being the oldest, I felt that
it was up to me to take care of and watch out for her. My
brother Butch ( Jim Frenett) had left Waltham right out of
high school and only came back to visit. This got a little
tricky because my mother still liked her "tea".
This had always been a problem. She was not very happy about
my searching for Dorothy because she did not want to remember
giving up her little girl. I had called my father as well
and I told him it would not be a good idea that she gets to
meet everyone at once. He thought differently, and showed
up in Marshfield the same day as Dorothy.
I
told both my mother and my father that I did what I did because
I needed to have answers to what had happened to Dorothy.
I did not need nor did I ask their permission, I did it for
me. Because everyone was going meet in Marshfield, it would
be on my terms, no pointing of fingers about something that
cannot be changed. My main thought was not to cause any problems
while Dorothy visits or you may lose her a second time. We
did get to have a few dinners together and everyone got to
spend time and try to be comfortable around each other. Dorothy
was not very comfortable with my father or mother as she had
very hard feelings at the time.
The
first few days of the visit, Dorothy had extra people to deal
with, then she became quiet. My sister was not happy with
me. During her visit, she looked around and felt that somehow
she had been left behind. Look what I had, I was the lucky
one. I knew everyone and they had kept me , they let her go
away. Look how she grew up and on and on. Finally I had to
sit her down and explain who I was. What I had put my grandfather,
his sister and her husband, my mother, my father and stepparents
through. I was one angry kid growing up because of her disappearance
and they all paid dearly for it, not to mention myself. Dorothy
went home hopefully with a little better understanding of
me. I'm really not sure how much through. We kept in touch
but not as often as Mrs. A. and I.
We
have had many conversations since then about who we are. We
both took the hard way of getting over life's early bumps,
but the important thing is we survived.
On
my birthday in May 1990, my mother arrived at my office at
noon time" in the wrapper". She was still upset
about my searching for Dorothy and now that she has been found
and they had met, she was upset that I had done this.
I removed her from my office, called my wife and explained
that she had better come here soon. She came and took my mother
home. I told her I did not want to talk to her until the weekend
and then we would resolve this matter. After forty years,
I had enough. She never had another drink again.
In
October 1993 one of my brothers (Steven) died. I flew out
west to bring him back to be buried in Marshfield as was the
family wishes.
I
was out of the country when Mrs. A. died. My sister tried
to reach me and couldn't. When I returned home and returned
her calls, she was not very happy that I was not here for
her when she needed someone. I told her I was sorry.
In
May 1995, my father died. He never got over losing my younger
brother at such a young age. I called to tell Dorothy and
she said she wouldn't be coming to the service. I told her
I understood. Her children thought otherwise, talked her into
it and she came.
In
December 1999, I went looking for my sister to wish her happy
50th. She had no address listed, no forwarding and no phone.
I remembered that her daughter Autumn was going to collage
in up state New York, so I tracked her down and when we spoke
she invited my wife and I to her graduation. I told her she
should talk to her mother about that first, if she would be
there. Her comment, "I'm inviting you and I will tell
her that."
We
went and it was in the same time span as Dorothy's birthday
so we combined the two and all went out to dinner.
In
2001, we had given my mother a trip to Hawaii for her 75th
birthday. She had 10 great days and became a social butterfly,
something that I had never seen before. We came home and the
following Thursday she came to dinner for her favorite meal;
corn beef and cabbage.
As
she was leaving she said "See you in the morning."
The
next day she did not surface by ten so I went looking for
her. She was gone. (I am a person that remembers numbers and
the strange thing is my mother died thirty years to the date
her father died.)
I
did what I needed to do and followed her wishes to be buried
with Ab. My brother Butch was not happy that she was cremated,
but that was her wish and I respected that.
After
I buried my mother, my wife told me a story I had never heard
before. While we were on vacation my mother and Sal had plenty
of time to talk. It seems that when she was a kid, she was
in an accident and in a coma for a few months. She came out
of it and went on sixty plus years. Now looking back at my
grandfather, I guess I understand why he let her run, he was
just happy to have her alive at all.
I
still have the pictures of my grandfather and I, when I was
very young, Today I am the grandfather with pictures of my
own grandson's. I think that is what made me start thinking
more about writing this story.
I
didn't call my sister to tell her that our mother had died.
I guess my reasoning is, if she had wanted contact, she would
have had it long before she died. She had already lost the
only mother she really knew, there was no reason to start
another unhappy ending. I had tried early on to encourage
communication between them but both waited for the other to
take that first step. Neither did.
Dorothy
and I still have contact, maybe not enough, but looking back
at all those years of wondering, I know that I needed an answer
to what had happened to her and once I had the answer it closed
one door and opened another.
Now,
when someone comes to me with that very personal search and
they end their story with "I just need to know,"
I tell them I understand very well.
|
