So, longtime readers of the site know that my parents were pretty old when they had me. My mom was 43, and my dad was 56 (?). Yeah, I’m the product of old sperm and old eggs. I was born Vintage! My mom had been married before, and I’ve talked about him on here, but folks may not realize that my dad had also been married. During said marriage, he had two kids: a boy, named Doyle, and a girl, named Pam. Pam was born with a heart defect, and passed away around the age of 12. Meanwhile, Doyle got to his early 30s, and, well…details are kinda murky there. When I was little, I was just told “He ODed”, but there’s gotta be more of a story there. My dad and that wife didn’t last (not sure if losing both their kids had anything to do with it), and he eventually met my mom. They had a whirlwind courtship, got married, had an Oops! Baby (that’s me), but he would pass away from a brain aneurysm when I was 3 years old. Being so young, I didn’t know him. Since he and my mom only had 4 years together, there’s only so much she learned about him. When I graduated from a little school called Cornell (Maybe you’ve heard of it?), I was bumping up against a nervous breakdown, and got the bright idea to clean our entire house. Throwing away old stuff, donating stuff, the works. Up to that point, I had only seen one picture each of my half siblings. That’s why it was so important when, during that cleaning project, I found this picture:
This is a picture of a Father-Son event at the lodge where my dad was a member in New York. Now, in my day, when you’d get something with this many people in it, there’s usually some sort of key to help you identify folks. No such thing here! So, for years (yeah, years), I would pore over it, trying to identify the West Men that I never really knew. And, eventually, I found them! These two blood relatives, that I never knew, leading their completely different lives, with no clue there’d be Another one day.
So, imagine my surprise when, some years later, I showed the picture to my mom (not sure why I hadn’t sooner, really. I guess it was My Little Secret). She said, “You found that picture! West told me he wasn’t even there that day, so I don’t know why he kept that thing.” HE. WASN’T. EVEN. THERE. THAT. DAY?! Then who the Hell have I been looking at?! Who have I been having a spiritual, cross-time “Catch” with?! Just some random Negroes (It’s cool – that was the politically correct term at that time!)?!
After that, we began to play something of a cat & mouse game with that picture. I refused to believe she knew what she was talking about, so I kept it, but I’d lose track of it every now and then. And it would pop up in the recycle bin or along with stuff to donate. Given that I come from hoarders, I’ve never quite understood her desire to get that particular picture out of the house so badly. Anyway, I’d rescue it, yet the cycle would repeat years later.
Well, she had some medical stuff early last year, and has been bouncing around from rehab to assisted living. I go by the house a few times a week, to check the mail and water the plants. A few weeks ago, I was doing something in the front closet, when I saw something rolled up on the floor. You see, there had been a donate pile near the door, but at some point it all ended up in the closet. That rolled up thing? The picture. I saved it from expulsion yet again! Tired of this game, I figured it was time for me to just take it home. I will be the caretaker of this gathering of strangers, immortalized on film. It may not showcase my dad and brother, but these were still somebody’s fathers and brothers, and I guess that counts for something.
