I just turned 70 a short time ago. I’m sharing this short story on FarceCrap in hopes that by doing so, I might be able to locate the person, (not sure if the person is male or female), that I fathered 54 years ago. I was 16 and the girl was 17. I wish I could remember her name.
We met via my foster-brother, Marvin Jenkins. Marvin introduced me to her because she was infatuated with him, and he thought he could pass her off to me. I guess she bothered him whenever he was working at a Piggly Wiggly grocery store in South Minneapolis. Marvin was about 19, and engaged to be married, so I could see how he wanted to introduce me to her.
Let’s call her “Susie”. Well, to make this a short story, Susie and I hit it off, instantly. The next day I was invited over to her house to listen to 45’s, smoke some weed, and mess around. Very quickly, we were naked in her bed and making love. Being my first time, (yes, I was a virgin), I came so fast, I didn’t think I had inserted my penis yet, and it was a huge load.
Well, I guess our bodies were close enough that some of those sperm made it to their target. All it takes is one. I remember Susie was really wet at the time, so I suppose those little tadpoles had a pretty good stream to swim up. Before I forget, Susie”s parents were on a six week vacation in Europe at the time.
We did not continue to pursue a relationship after that day, I guess because I disappointed her? Her parents came home the following week, and when I tried to contact her, her parents refused to even let me talk to her on the phone.
About 6 weeks passed, and I finally went to Susie’s house. Her father answered the door, told me to leave. Two days later, I found out why I was not allowed to see her. I spoke to her best friend (can’t remember her name either). This friend of Susie’s said, “Well, I’m not supposed to tell anybody, especially you, she’s pregnant. Her parents are strict Catholics. They sent Susie to a Catholic Home for Pregnant Girls, somewhere in Canada. The baby will be adopted, at her parent’s request”.
I never spoke to Susie again. Over the past 54 years, I have had so many different thoughts regarding this experience. If it was me, it was close to an immaculate conception, as far as my “Rocket Man with a Very Short Fuse” performance. Or, what if it was some other kid that got lucky? Or, what if it was Marvin, my foster-brother, after all, Susie was like, “Movie Starlet” beautiful. She was a real sexpot, i.e., liked sex. If you knew her, you might agree that I was seduced by an “Older” woman (one year older, hahahaha).
Over the many years, my ego has convinced me that I’m the one. I’m the father of a 54 year old man or woman who has no idea who their (his or her) biological father is. If Susie is still alive, she probably doesn’t know who the adoptive parents are. That’s how those Catholic homes for pregnant girls worked. If you were giving up your baby for adoption, you were not allowed to know anything about the adoptive parents or their arrangment with the Nuns at the Catholic Home for Pregnant Girls.
Susie, if you are still alive, and if I’m really the father of our child, please know that you both have been in my heart and on my mind for 54 years. Had I been allowed to be the “Father”, I would have loved and cared for the both of you.
If by some remote chance you are a 54 year old person that found out you were adopted, and some part of this short story rings a bell, let me know. It’s probably a 1% chance that you and “Susie” found each other somehow. That’s the only way you would know about me, if your mother had told you this story. There’s a 99% chance that I will never know the answer to this short story. I wonder sometimes.
Peace & Abide,
Dr. T. C. Saxe, DD
Strain: Grand-Ma’sBellyButtonLint, harvested August 30th, 2018
For those of you that have enjoyed reading my posts and pages, and would like to make a small donation in support of my writing efforts and intentions, I have now set up a PayPal account for you to contribute $1 or so, or you can send some Cannabis, homemade Venison Jerky or Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups , your donation is 100% tax deductible.
STUDY WAR NO MORE!
For those of you that have enjoyed reading my posts and pages, and would like to make a small donation in support of my writing efforts and intentions, I have now set up a PayPal account for you to contribute $1 or so, or you can send some Cannabis, homemade Venison Jerky or Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups , your donation is 100% tax deductible.
at the Cannes Film Festival. Prince Andre is from a small almost unknown little country that used to be part of the former USSR. The beautiful “Marion” is a definite Southern California girl, with her gorgeous long reddish-blond hair, beautiful long legs, and striking blue eyes.
The first night they meet, the prince gets a BJ in one of the yacht’s VIP cabins. Hot and heavy, the romance begins. The following night, after a romantic dinner, the beautiful “Lady Marion” takes it in her “back door” doggy style, in his penthouse at the “Hôtel Majestic Barri”. Are they falling in love already? Maybe.
“Back door/Doggy Style” on a moon-lit beach ends the scene, fading to a close-up shot of a huge, beautiful moon with faint sounds of love-groans in the background.
There are a few children there with their parents, and we see Andre glance over at the two young children, a little boy about six, and a little girl around four. As he glances over at them with a look that says, “Someday”. He is reminded of the times when his parents, King Gustaf and Queen Victorina of Sarcootchka talked about the day when the castle would be filled with the sounds of little princes and princesses running around. Like any parents, they envisioned having grandchildren someday.
After dinner, we find Prince Andre and Lady Marion sitting on the beach again, in the exact same spot where he proposed to her. It’s a beautiful evening, with the same full moon, slight breeze, sounds of the waves splashing on the shore, and a few birds of some kind, singing in the distance.
Andre reaches into his pocket and pulls out that huge rock of a diamond again, “Will you marry me?”….”Yes, Andre, I will”, as a camera shot of a close-up of the moon ends this short story….For now.
Between both sides of the family, there were eight sets of aunties and uncles. I’ve never been angry or bitter about that. It is what it was in 1963, when Catholics had tons of kids, even for a few of them, it wasn’t about religion or lack of birth control. One of my aunts had six kids spread between three different “fathers”. We all know what SHE was spreading, (rhymes with eggs).
and the spot where a creek crossed under the highway, where we could climb down the bank of the ditch right where the bridge for the highway crossed over the creek.
this old white dude behind the bar/counter directed a quick, almost growling question in my direction, “Boy, you with that nigger out there?”, simultaneously as I shook my head up and down signaling a “Yes”, he said, “Niggers aren’t allowed in here, and since you’re with him, you can do an about-face and get the fuck outa here”. I found out for the first time in my life what racial discrimination and segregation was all about.
Skinny dipping. My pal Ben had already run into the water, having stripped ALL of his clothes off. So, I stripped down to my birthday suit and ran into the water.
Imagine, if you have ever had pet fish in a fish tank, and as you sprinkle the fish food into the tank, the fishfood slowly sinks, and your pet fish, Hinky, Dinky, Parley, and Vooooo, and their seven other brothers and sisters frantically begin to devour their dinner as if they had been starved for a week.
Mind you, I did not wash off enough stuff to attract all the fish in the lake. I figure it was just the crescendo of activity around me. Now here’s a couple three or four or five, REALLY much larger fish, Bass I think, mixed in with the two or three hundred smaller fishies.
Think about it for a minute, you are dirty, buck-naked, chest deep, with a slight marijuana buzz going on, AND this feeding frenzy is happening all around you. You feel something biting your tiny little cold-water shriveled-up penis. That was it…..It took me about a minute to swim back to shore.
STARVATION, while we sit (some of us) painting our toenails and drinking our champagne.
As a species, we now can do something to prevent our demise. One of the many things we can do is to consolidate ALL of our abilities and power, (yes there IS power in numbers).
The Gold Toad got eaten by the Gold Lion
the prospect of shooting guns and shit was exciting to those generations of high school kids, now a few decades after the almost forgotten Vietnam War. It was for many, a huge carrot on a string. There wasn’t much in the way of protests going on in 1965 when I entered the service. By the end of the 60’s and into the early 70’s the protests took over the narrative at most colleges. The young and dumb had awakened during the era of the protests against war, and then dumbed down again in the late 80’s into the 90’s. Then along came 9-11 and a huge patriotic surge of young people to “Serve our country and get those evil bastards”.
I decided to watch it tonight because it happened to be on TV, and I was really interested in seeing what my emotions and reaction would be. Watching it tonight, (movie just ended) and now that it’s over, I can say what my thoughts were three years ago, and what my thoughts and emotions reveal tonight. They are the same, in fact the story portrayed in the movie, about a Navy Seal Team sniper that spent multiple tours in combat in the middle east confirms my emotions and position on war itself, and the horrors that it brings.
of his experience or lack of combat experience, he definitely should have been psychologically screened out and prevented from becoming a police officer in the NYPD. I might get sued for saying that, but I don’t care. If you can go so far as to squeeze someone’s neck until they are dead, for a fucking cigarette, you are sick. There should be special hospitals to treat and care for people that sick. The NYPD had previously banned the use of a “Choke Hold”. Eric Garner’s death was ruled a homicide. The officer was not indicted.
The dude, Eddie Ray Routh, that killed Chris, and another fellow, Chad Littlefield, I believe, had real mental issues that supposedly were not the result of combat experience. It is pretty clear in my mind, that he should have been rejected for military service to begin with. So war DID kill Chris Kyle? He was trying to help other veterans, which helped to heal his fucked up mind. I don’t think he should have joined the Navy in the first place. He could have remained a rodeo bull rider. You decide.
