Tiassa
02-13-05, 07:21 AM
Warm-Fuzzy Stories
News that makes us (genuinely) smile
It's a heart-wrenching story, with all the sparkle and pain of an Oscar-nominated drama. High school sweethearts, wrenched apart by an unplanned teen pregnancy. A girl, afraid to oppose her parents, puts the child up for adoption. A boy, confused and not understanding why, signs away his son.
That day affected their lives; their relationship crumbled shortly after the birth. Both would marry other people. Both would divorce.
The father of the child had only one momento, a hospital photo of his son, taken in 1977.
Over the years he wondered much about his son, wondered much about his lost love. And along came the internet, and through a well-known website, he established contact with his former girlfriend. They didn't fall in love again; they'd never fallen out of love.
Responding to his inquiry, she wrote, "I think of you every year on October 25."
She wrote, "I think of you often."
Within days things seemed clear. "I've loved you all my life," he told her over the phone. "My dream of dreams is to have you and search for our son together."
She flew up to see him. They held each other. They wept.
Now here's the pretty detail:
Then a chance conversation with a stranger accelerated the search for their son.
While Bart was at work one day, Brenda spent the afternoon with an old friend. They stopped by a car dealership in Tacoma, where the friend had a meeting, and Brenda struck up a conversation with a saleswoman.
Brenda told her story: that she was in town to reunite with her high-school sweetheart and they were hoping to find the son they had put up for adoption.
How old was the child? asked the woman, Michelle Abbott.
Twenty-six, said Brenda: born Oct. 25, 1977.
What a coincidence, Abbott told her. She had a cousin born the very same day. And he was adopted.
Brenda started asking questions.
Where was he raised?
Kent, said Abbott.
What religion is he?
Catholic, she said.
Finally, Brenda asked: Does he have any brothers or sisters?
Just one, Abbott said. A brother, 13 years older.
The young man in the picture had Bart's nose and chin, and those same blue eyes that Bart remembered, though they were shaped just like Brenda's.
Bart and Brenda were looking at a high-school yearbook photo — of a student named Andy Fenkner. Michelle Abbott had called her mom, who contacted Abbott's aunt — Michael's adoptive mother. The families quickly put two and two together.
SeattleTimes.com (http://seattletimes.nwsource.com/html/localnews/2002178953_familyfound13m.html)
Twenty-eight years late, Bart and Brenda will marry in October. Andy will walk his mother down the aisle. The happy couple has already had a baby, Madisyn, whose older brother flew in from Scottsdale to welcome her at birth.
• • •
Maybe if Mel Gibson options the story for a movie, he'll get a best-picture nomination.
After all, happy endings are arbitrary. Everybody dies, eventually. But this one's good enough. Fade to black, "Fin", and roll credits.
____________________
Notes:
Arrillaga, Pauline. "The search for a son and a lost love". SeattleTimes.com. February 13, 2005. See http://seattletimes.nwsource.com/html/localnews/2002178953_familyfound13m.html
News that makes us (genuinely) smile
It's a heart-wrenching story, with all the sparkle and pain of an Oscar-nominated drama. High school sweethearts, wrenched apart by an unplanned teen pregnancy. A girl, afraid to oppose her parents, puts the child up for adoption. A boy, confused and not understanding why, signs away his son.
That day affected their lives; their relationship crumbled shortly after the birth. Both would marry other people. Both would divorce.
The father of the child had only one momento, a hospital photo of his son, taken in 1977.
Over the years he wondered much about his son, wondered much about his lost love. And along came the internet, and through a well-known website, he established contact with his former girlfriend. They didn't fall in love again; they'd never fallen out of love.
Responding to his inquiry, she wrote, "I think of you every year on October 25."
She wrote, "I think of you often."
Within days things seemed clear. "I've loved you all my life," he told her over the phone. "My dream of dreams is to have you and search for our son together."
She flew up to see him. They held each other. They wept.
Now here's the pretty detail:
Then a chance conversation with a stranger accelerated the search for their son.
While Bart was at work one day, Brenda spent the afternoon with an old friend. They stopped by a car dealership in Tacoma, where the friend had a meeting, and Brenda struck up a conversation with a saleswoman.
Brenda told her story: that she was in town to reunite with her high-school sweetheart and they were hoping to find the son they had put up for adoption.
How old was the child? asked the woman, Michelle Abbott.
Twenty-six, said Brenda: born Oct. 25, 1977.
What a coincidence, Abbott told her. She had a cousin born the very same day. And he was adopted.
Brenda started asking questions.
Where was he raised?
Kent, said Abbott.
What religion is he?
Catholic, she said.
Finally, Brenda asked: Does he have any brothers or sisters?
Just one, Abbott said. A brother, 13 years older.
The young man in the picture had Bart's nose and chin, and those same blue eyes that Bart remembered, though they were shaped just like Brenda's.
Bart and Brenda were looking at a high-school yearbook photo — of a student named Andy Fenkner. Michelle Abbott had called her mom, who contacted Abbott's aunt — Michael's adoptive mother. The families quickly put two and two together.
SeattleTimes.com (http://seattletimes.nwsource.com/html/localnews/2002178953_familyfound13m.html)
Twenty-eight years late, Bart and Brenda will marry in October. Andy will walk his mother down the aisle. The happy couple has already had a baby, Madisyn, whose older brother flew in from Scottsdale to welcome her at birth.
• • •
Maybe if Mel Gibson options the story for a movie, he'll get a best-picture nomination.
After all, happy endings are arbitrary. Everybody dies, eventually. But this one's good enough. Fade to black, "Fin", and roll credits.
____________________
Notes:
Arrillaga, Pauline. "The search for a son and a lost love". SeattleTimes.com. February 13, 2005. See http://seattletimes.nwsource.com/html/localnews/2002178953_familyfound13m.html