I admit: I'm superstitious. I believe in the supernatural power of prayer, karma, positive energy and good vibes. The sharing of joy and happiness can help us get through the cold and darkness of this administration.
That's how Carnacki starts these out when he's here. Well, I didn't know how superstitious he was until he appeared in the C&J Cafe chat room this afternoon and asked for a volunteer to fill in for him today. Before I knew it everyone had taken a step back and I was standing out front with my tongue in my mouth and my teeth hanging out. They must have all realized this would be Got A Happy Story #13.
But that's OK because it gives me a chance to tell a story I've just never yet gotten around to. It's the story of why Damien comes to visit.
Six months ago I couldn't have picked Damien* out of a police lineup. Nowadays he comes over to visit most weekends, and we're happy to have him.
Looking at it objectively you wouldn't think we have a lot in common, and that's because we don't. I just turned 50. He's about half that. I'm white, short, pudgy and balding. He's black, tall, has a head full of cornrows and is built like an athlete. I know a little about boxing, but it's not something I'd probably choose to watch on my own. He's an amateur boxer and says he has a shot at qualifying for the US Olympic boxing team. I'm so square my CDs all have four corners. He's into . . . well whatever guys his age are into these days.
So what do we have in common? In a word, Neena. My granddaughter. He's her father.
When my youngest son was 16 we got to meet his first girlfriend. They met through Connie's cousin, whose family lived across the way from us when we first moved to Seattle. I figured it was going to be one of those short-term first girlfriend things, and thought that for about a month until my son told us three things:
Connie was preganant
He wasn't the father
She thought the baby might be half black
(Looking back, it's likely she knew for certain the baby would be half black, but that's the way we heard the story at the time.)
Not only that, Connie didn't have anywhere to go. Her mother had met a violent death at a relatively early age, she didn't know where her father was, and she had lived with a succession of relatives for years. So, we took her in.
My wife was in the delivery room when Neena was born. She came home from the hospital with us and lived with us for about two years, even after my son moved out. From the time she could first talk Neena knew us as Grandma and Grandpa. There was no blood relation; just a lot of love shared between us and a little girl.
After Connie moved out we still saw Neena frequently, and in fact she soon started coming over to our house every weekend. We would do kid things like go to the park or the zoo on Saturdays, and on Sundays we'd all go to church. It worked out quite well for all concerned. Connie would get some time off to do what she wanted, and Neena would come over to our house where she would be Queen of the Universe.
Things did not go well for Connie, unfortunately. She lost a minimum-wage job when her back was injured and she couldn't get disability payments (of course she didn't have any kind of insurance), her boyfriend and father of Neena's half-brother split up with her, and she went back to going from relative to friend to relative to find a place to live. When her relationship with her boyfriend was breaking up it started getting nasty, and Neena started getting anxious about going back home after the weekend was over. We'd offer to let her stay longer, and her stays eventually got longer and longer. In May of 2003 she came over one Friday, and as it turned out she just stayed.
We were delighted to have her, but this presented its own problems, chief among which was medical care. If Neena got sick we had to take her to the one clinic in town where the staff knew she had a state medical card. That clinic was very difficult for us to get to without a car. Plus there was the matter of permission to go on school trips or travel. Connie was becoming increasingly difficult to get in touch with.
Eventually we decided that if Neena was going to stay with us we would need to have legal custody. We convinced Connie it was for the best, that we had no intention of taking Neena away from her, and that we could tear up the custody order anytime she wanted. To our great relief she agreed to grant us non-parental custody and signed the papers, but then another spanner got thrown into the works when the court decided they wanted a signature from the father as well.
Now like I said six months ago we didn't know Damien from Adam's off ox. We didn't know how to get in touch with him, and were facing an expensive and time-consuming process of posting notice and hoping he wouldn't object . . . when out of the blue we got a phone call from him. He hadn't seen Neena in a long time and wanted to come visit. Naturally we said yes. We didn't know what to expect and had some concerns . . . all of which quickly melted away when we met him. He was a fine man, working temp jobs to provide flexibility to work on his boxing, and it was obvious he loved Kristina. He agreed to sign the papers and asked if it was OK if he came to visit Neena. You bet, we told him, come anytime you want. We soon settled on an every-Saturday schedule, and he's been here every Saturday since except when he's had bouts or other conflicts. The two of them have been making up for lost time. He's young and strong enough to do the roughhousing and piggy-back rides and stuff we're too old to do anymore. He remembers her birthday and shows up at school events. In short he's back in her life and we're all happy. And Neena gets to have two dads -- the one she grew up with and the one she's still getting to know.
*Note: The names have been changed to protect the innocent. If someday anyone I mention in one of my diaries happens to want to associate themselves with me, they can. Until then they have plausible denyability.