My search for family began with a name I didn’t recognize. I was five years old, sitting in a classroom, when a substitute teacher accidentally opened a door to a part of my life I knew nothing about.
The teacher was taking attendance—yes, roll call was a thing back then—and called my first name with a last name I didn’t know. It wasn’t the name I thought was mine, so of course I didn’t respond.
When I got home, I asked my mom and dad about it. That conversation led to an admission: the dad I knew was not my biological father. There was another father.
But that wasn’t the whole truth. There was still more I hadn’t been told.
About two years later, I found a photograph of a boy with a name written on it. He looked a lot like me. His last name was also the same one I’d learned, two years earlier, was my own.
That photograph led to another discovery: I had a full biological older brother out there.
To this day, I cannot confirm exactly what happened all those years ago. But as a child, learning that I had another father—and then a brother—was life changing.
When I was about seventeen, I started watching Unsolved Mysteries. Every once in a while, the show featured searches for long-lost family members.
I sent letter after letter, hoping they might help me find mine. I never got a response.
Eventually, I found a service called Seekers of the Lost and asked for help. After nearly $500 in fees, they sent me a list of telephone numbers and addresses for people across the country who shared the name of the man I’d been told was my biological father.
That was what I had to work with: a very long list and a name. And back then, long-distance phone calls weren’t free.
As I worked through the list, I came across someone whose first, middle, and last names all matched.
This time, instead of calling, I decided to write a letter and send a photograph.
About two weeks later, I received a phone call. It was confirmed: I had found my biological father.
He lived in another state, and I was only weeks away from giving birth to my second child. Traveling wasn’t an option for me, so he decided to travel to the state where I was living.
I got to meet him. A few months later, I also met other family members, including a half sister.
That search was the beginning of my genealogy and ancestry research. What started with questions about my own family became an interest that has stayed with me for more than thirty years.
Finding my biological father was one chapter. There was still more to learn, more family to search for, and more of the story to uncover.
There is a whole lot more to come. 🙂