50 Days 'Til 50 Day 21--Fathers and Sons

50 Days 'Til 50Day 21Fathers and Sons *this is a repost from my Facebook page this years Father’s Day with some minor editsFathers and SonsOn this Father’s Day, it seems almost impossible to read through FB without seeing a post in celebration of Fathers around the country. I admit I’ve read many of them, touched of course by the photos and sentiments and yet a bit removed as I don’t have a Father in my life anymore…or do I?If you’ve been following my blog you’ll know that my story is a bit different from the traditional mom, dad, sister, brother families I grew up surrounded by. As an adopted child, I as of yet have never met my birth Father or Mother. In a random stroke of luck years back I met one of my blood brothers, Bill Bowser, who actually found my family and me. It was an amazing moment to be sure and we quickly discovered many similarities including having grown up near each other and even attending rival high schools, I in Durham, NH and he in Somersworth, NH. He’s two years younger than I am and today lives in Tennessee with his wife and family. He had access to some then private information about all of us and I was to find out that there were 6 children in total. I chuckled inside as I had longed to live like the Brady Bunch and now to find out we could have all filled that tic-tac-toe box in the shows beginning thrilled me to no end, although I don’t know if we would have had an “Alice” in the center box or not. Bill went on to locate our natural Mother and was never contacted by her after she was made aware of his search for her. A story far to familiar for adopted kids who go in search of their blood family members. No matter for me, I was completely satisfied to have connected with Bill. Of course I often wonder what my parents look like, what my siblings look like, if they are still alive and of course what happened to them, especially with 6 of us in total. It was the 1960s so maybe they were cool hippies, who went to Woodstock, and wore beads and played guitars. Free love after all. I suspect their lives weren’t so free and easy however.It doesn’t consume me very much these days besides a fleeting thought. As I’ve written before I was adopted at age 3 into an amazing family, the Fullers. My fathers name is Enoch Doble Fuller, Jr. Sounded very impressive to me even as a young child. Enoch Sr. had already passed on so I never got to meet him, and his mother Abbie lived with us for many years in the hotel my parents owned. Since I didn’t take my Fathers full name, I never became Enoch the 3rd. Joshua Enoch Fuller would have to do. Or Greg Brady would have been cool too. My Mother, Marylou Jordan would fill the role of all things maternal and paternal as Enoch passed away when I was just 11 and my sister Amey was 8. I also never got to meet Marylou’s Father, Guysbert Bogart Vroom Jordan. These names today sound so elegant and regal to me which is a far cry from growing up when I just wanted to be named John or Mark. They Jordan’s lived in Bryn Mawr Pennsylvania and my grandfather was sadly stricken with polio and passed away when my mother was a teenager. Her Mother, Corinne would also come to live with us all at the hotel. It was truly a family run operation, as my grandmothers would work in various “as needed” positions throughout the hotel. Abbie took a liking to the housekeeping department and Corinne, or Mimi as we called her, would set up her talents as the hostess and guest greeter in the hotels gift shop. Abbie was what they called “good New England stock.” A strong busty woman who had no problem wrestling up and down the stairs of the hotels three floors her arms full of linens and towels and a vacuum cleaner hose wrapped around her neck. I think she took her aggressions out on many of the linens in the hotel rooms each day flipping and swatting them into perfect position on the beds. Mimi enjoyed her time arranging the gift shop just so and would handwrite each days menu about 40 times over and then thumbtack them to bread boards which were placed in front of each guest at their table in the dining room. After the passing of my grandfather my grandmother, not having many trade skills would go on to reception at a local beauty salon and my mother would have to take odd jobs while still in high school. The Kelly family (Grace Kelly to be exact) were neighbors of theirs and my mom would go on to include in her resume babysitting the future Queen of Monaco.I had a few “uncles” of the family and a Godfather as well, but these men didn’t have much impact on my life to my memory. Maybe at the time they did but as a five and six year old, they just seemed like old men to me. I often think of my dad Enoch and what his life was like. He graduated from the University of New Hampshire with a degree from their hotel and hospitality program. I wonder what he was like on campus? Was he outgoing and liked by all? Was he a loner and introvert? Was he a smooth dresser attracting all the university gals? Was he a party animal? He had brilliant red hair and was given the nickname “Red.” I do know he was a hard worker as he had said many times, “running a hotel is a 365 day, 7 day a week operation.” I knew he was a sharp dresser from all the photos I have of him and of course being the hotel owner, he was constantly in the front of the house greeting all the guests and pouring drinks in the bar. He was gone in the mornings before anyone else was awake and left after the last cocktail was served into the wee hours of the morning. I imagine he was very tired. Sadly my memories of him are few. I think I’ve put a very heavy wall up surrounding him and my memories of him; as to lose a parent so young is extremely painful. Fortunately my Mom took loads of photos so I can squeeze out memories of him, of us, of things we did together, moments in time. In her retirement years my mom would go on to pursue her interest of writing and penned many books of which the first was about their lives as hoteliers. The book is called “There’s a Horse in the Ladies Room” and is a wonderful tribute to Enoch and filled with stories of what really goes on behind the scenes at a hotel. From the photos it was easy to see our family did many things together, traveling, going out for special occasions, summering in lake communities around New England, taking trips to far off strange lands like Boston and Philadelphia to see the circus and visit family members (no, not in the circus). It was also evident in the photographs that both he and my mom loved my sister and I very much.So on this Fathers Day I celebrate and am grateful each day for having the family I do today. To Enoch, wherever you are, I know each day you did the best you could do. Through all the highs and lows of your life you left us to go out into the world and show true genuine care for people, to have respect and compassion for the people in this world. To show us affection so we could go out and show affection and lastly and maybe the most important when all else fails and on the days when you just feel like you can’t go on, put on a suit coat and cuff links and show up with a smile on. You had the ability and the courage to adopt not one but 2 children, to love us and to care for us. You left this world way to early and I wish you could see what pretty amazing kids we have grown up to become.Or maybe you can?Thanks Dad.jf