Tag Archives: writing

Act II

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This post will be about my second phone call with Fanny, where I found out the name of the birth mother (along with some other tidbits). When Fanny set up for us to have this call in mid May, it came to my surprise to hear that she would be leaving her job position.

My first thought: fuck. I won’t get everything I need.

Yes, that was selfish. But I have been waiting for so long to find out this information, I was a bit scared that my case would get shuffled back into a long queue, not paid attention to the same way she did. We had our first call together before I went to the London Marathon and she gave me some rich background information. She wanted to have this call occur before she was leaving her job, so she could give me the birth mother information that she had confirmed.

Clothilde Lemay.

That is my grandmother’s name. Clothilde. Lemay.

Just like in the first call, she couldn’t release exact birth dates or death dates, locations, etc. And now that this call happened back in May, I don’t remember exactly what we spoke about. One interesting thing was brought up, thought-she hinted that maybe I could find something regarding Clothilde’s father, as there was a documentary put out by NFB (National film board) that included him. He was a musician. She couldn’t directly share his name, but she must had found it in her search and made sure I looked it up to put it all together. So I did. It’s a bit odd and interesting all at once. I have watched it and have all sorts of thoughts. (Here is the link too: https://www.nfb.ca/series/le-son-des-francais-damerique-english-version/season1/les-gens-du-plaisir-en/ )

Clothilde was an only child. She never had any other children other than my dad. It appears she may have gotten married again, but never had another child with her husband. In my Ancestry.com searches, there is no more paths from her name. Cannot find a grave. Cannot find a burial. What I have is below:

Died young. Close to my dad’s age. What I can piece together on ancestry is below. And if we put this all into perspective, she died before I was even born. So in a way, it is comforting knowing that I didn’t ‘just miss out’ on finding her. I wasn’t even here. My dad hadn’t even met my mom yet. Finding her wasn’t on my dad’s radar.

I have found no pictures of Clothilde online. No obituary. No photos shared on ancestry. She is a mystery. I do, as you saw above, have video of my great-grandfather though. Which is absolutely insane. And what I did four weeks ago is more insane: I decided to google up one of the directors of that documentary. His name is Andre’ Gladu. And according to the internet, he is still alive.

I found him on Facebook and sent him a message. He has not replied yet, or read it. So a few days ago I sent him a friend request. I have no clue if he will read it or acknowledge it. If someone wants to help a girl out and see if he’ll read this, work your magic:

So. I learned my grandmother’s name. Clothilde Lemay. My dad’s biological mom. This was always what I wanted to find out. I was met with so many emotions over those first days of finding out. I cried. I felt sad for her and her story. To have a son, to have to give him up….to get married but never have a second chance at her own family…dying young….it’s crazy. I was always on the search for my dad’s birth mom and I was worried that now, with now knowing the name and even now months later not knowing much about her at all…that this was all for nothing.

But trust me. It only gets better from here.

And that will be part of Act III.

My Family Saves a lot of Shit!

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Growing up, our family basement was “finished” in terms of the fact it had more than just a sub floor. It wasn’t necessarily a livable space, or somewhere where you would want your middle child to have their bedroom, but it had the flooring down and was framed and insulated. My friends and I could play down there, and it was fine. We had a lot of storage space in my parents house—it’s amazing my mom and dad did not become hoarders! I know as an only child, we have more photos of me growing up, more photos of our family at holiday events…I know I was spoiled growing up with gifts and other items….but with all that, comes years of random stuff being stowed in your parents’ basement. But then, over the last ten or more years, some of that “garbage” has been filtered out and thrown away.

Now, I know for a fact nothing precious has been tossed. I’ve been a guardian of that basement my whole life. I spent many of days when I was middle school aged or older looking through my moms’ family photos. I loved the idea of the past, and loved looking back at it. Photos like the ones below exemplified my grandparents and their families, and we have held on to those!
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But other than family photos, there was a bunch of my toys. The things piling in my parents’ basement were random Barbies, board games and hand-me-downs from my cousins. We also had a lot of my school work. The wooden walls in our old-school basement were a stapling ground for anything I did in art class. We also had an old-fashioned desk we got at a rummage sale, that my best friend Ali and I would use to play school. In the desk we stored old notebooks, folders and classroom supplies. From kindergarten and, on this desk was in my basement—and I added old notebooks into in. But later on, many got thrown away. However, me being the master of the basement, I made sure my early ones stayed.

When my family went to Walt Disney World for the first time in 1991, me; being the studious young kid, made sure to ask Mrs. Shrake if there was anything I needed to do. We use to do a single sentence journal entry every day in class, which included the date, and was usually about a topic on the board. She told me to write in my journal each day when in Disney World. Since I am currently on my 15th trip to Walt Disney World, I thought it would be fun to look at these pieces of history (ha!) Here are excerpts from my school journal in 1991, when I was on my first ever trip to Walt Disney World:

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I have, and always will, remember those first words: I am up in the airplane. I am up in the sky. And it is even crazier to think about these words I wrote back in 1991, while in Disney World with my family, and that I am here now in 2013, writing words about these words while on vacation with one of my best friends.