Geography

It's Massachusetts!

It's a common thing for people to want to go to the place they came from.  I have seen it many times in my own family.  I have relatives that traveled back to Ireland and went to towns where their ancestors are from (I say their, not mine - a new development for me).  I have friends who were born in other cities in other states and they have traveled back at one point or another (sometimes to visit family and friends still there, other times because it is where they are from and they want to visit).  It is not unheard of.

I have been thinking a lot about this phenomenon.  This idea of going back to where it all started.  It is no secret that I have never been to the city where I was born after my adoptive parents took me home to Boston.  It was never a place we wanted to visit.  They were honest and told me where I was born and that my first mother was from there, but other than that, it was never discussed.  We lived (and still do) an hour away, but it was never a place for us to visit.  We never went to any museums there, we never visited that zoo, we never attended any cultural festivals...  I was never told anything good about the city where I was born.

As I got older, people would ask where I was born and I would tell them.  I never had any problems answering questions.  Then the comments would start.  It became pretty clear that people in my hometown looked down their noses at where I was from.  I hadn't lived there since I was two months old, but it was not a good place to talk about.  Because I was so caught up in the clean slate theory, I looked down my nose too.  It must be a crazy place.  My first mother was probably a crack whore and my first father was probably a cold abandoner who most likely did not even know about me.  I was a kid, these assumptions happen.

When I was in high school, I started looking at colleges and one of them was right near my birth city.  We passed it on the highway and my mom offered to get off and go to a Dunkin Donuts or something so I could see where I was born.  I told her no and begged her to keep driving.  That was the first time I realized I had a fear of where I was born.  In all of about five seconds I thought about what it would be like to go to a Dunkin Donuts.  I would scan every face and wonder if one of them was her.  What it she was there?  Would I know?  The thought freaked me out.  It scared me.

I had a pretty good idea about being Portuguese.  I looked the part, and I was from an area that meant I probably was Portuguese.  My mother told me I was French, and again, it made some sense.  So that was cool.  I took French in high school in an effort to connect in any way to my past from a distance.  Nobody needed to know that I had a drop of French blood...  The English ancestry was a complete surprise.  I was raised by an Irish family.  My adoptive dad runs around the house screaming about how much he hates the English.  I've been to England back when I thought I had no connection.

I would have a very hard time visiting Portugal.  I have a hard time going into a Portuguese bakery.  I freak out, can't make eye contact with the people behind the counter.  I feel like an outsider.  Rudy doesn't get it.  He wonders what the big deal is.  They're supposed to be my people right?  Well, they don't feel like that.  They don't feel like my people.  Irish pub?  No problem.  I understand that culture.  Portuguese bakery?  Nope, don't get it at all.  I'm not Irish, I'm Portuguese but you'd never know that by the way I act.  It's such a close knit community, I don't think I'll ever feel like I "get it".  Ever.  So even though I'd love to visit the Azores where most of my family is from, I don't know if I'll ever work up the nerve to visit.

Simiarly, I don't know if I'll ever be able to visit my birth city until all of my family knows about me and I've gotten to meet them.  I know what my first mother looks like now.  I'd be able to pick her out of a crowd.  If we went into Dunkin Donuts and she was there, I'd know.  I may not be prepared to meet her, but I know I never will be fully prepared.  And I'd probably walk right up to her and say hi.  I don't think it would go over very well.

I shouldn't have that fear.  I think it would be disrespectful for me to go to their house just to check the place out, but I should be able to go to a city where I was born to check it out.  The city I would have been raised in had they kept me.  It shouldn't be such a big deal, yet it is.

Maybe someday. My first father promised to show me around someday.  Maybe if I have someone else there with me, I'd feel better about it.  Rudy doesn't know it yet (unless he reads it here) but if that's the case, he's totally coming with me me. :-P