I am going to deviate just a little bit this morning from my normal routine. I had promised all of you the next installment in the William Stephenson story about how he became a key inspiration for Ian Flemming’s master spy James Bond. To be honest though I really haven’t had the time this weekend to hit the books and do the research required to write a top notch history.
This weekend I spent with my darling daughter who lives a couple of hours out of Winnipeg. It was her 14th birthday last weekend so I took the chance this weekend to spend a fun filled day with her bowling and generally having a good time.
In any regard that got me thinking about my own situation, as many of you may know I am an adopted son to my late father and globe-trotting mother. It’s the only life that I have ever known so please don’t feel badly for me. I really couldn’t have asked for better parents and the childhood that I had was a very happy one in most regards, but there has always been a hole in my heart that I have never been able to fill. The one left by my birth mother when I left her arms and was taken into foster care.
There was a story that my mom (Florence) used to read to me as a child, it has to this day remained one of my favorite stories and I know it almost word for word even though I haven’t seen a copy of the book for well over 30 years. It’s name is Are you my mother, it follows the plight of a little baby bird who as I recall falls out of the nest one sunny day and wanders about asking everyone and everything “Are you my mother?”.
I guess reading that story to me was her way of letting me know that it was OK to be different from my younger brother who was theirs by natural birth. Growing up I was always an inquisitive child, I would often wander off while my mother was shopping (in a time and place where it was still safe to do so) and talk to anyone I could find in the stores we would frequent. Mostly I would talk to cute women as my mother would frantically run around the store in search of her wayward son. Inevitably I would end up dragging the poor hapless woman that I had latched onto up to the front counter where my mom would be in a tizzy waiting for my return.
With the advent of television programs like Who do you think you are?, which research a celebrity’s family tree going back hundreds of years it got me to thinking about how I see my true family history. It begins and ends with me. I do have some basic information on my birth family but any attempt thus far to dig deeper into my roots on this earth have thus far come up empty.
I have spent countless hours in the libraries using resources like Ancestry.com only to come up with nothing. I have registered with the Government of Ontario Family and Children’s Services to have my name placed on a reunion registry but that requires both parties reaching out for the Government to act on our behalf.
To make a long story short I have tried everything but going through the Ottawa phone book and cold calling people who share my last name. Then I got to thinking I have a website that is seen by hundreds of people every day. Maybe one of them knows who I am? Maybe one of them has access to resources I do not have. Maybe one of them knows Oprah or Ellen? Long-shot I know but hey nothing ventured nothing gained.
Are YOU my mother?
My basic birth information is as follows, for obvious reasons I cannot disclose everything but someone out there has the other half of this puzzle maybe we can complete the picture together.
The story goes that in the late 1968 or very early 1969 my mother was a young twenty year old stenographer and typist working in the Ottawa/Hull region of Ontario possibly for the Police or Government Service. She may have had a tryst with someone working in the service and produced me in the process.
I was born in September of 1969 with the given name Shawn Logan at the Grace Hospital in Ottawa, Ontario. I spent approximately 6 months in foster care before I was placed with my adoptive parents Ken and Florence Ogden of Fort Frances, Ontario. I caught a bad case of the German measles at around 4 or 5 months old and this delayed my adoptive parents from claiming me sooner.
I believe that my birth mother’s family name was also Logan and that they lived in the Ottawa/Hull region. She did have a number of brothers and sisters and her family would not have been able to care for me as one of her brothers was injured in a workplace accident thus depleting their resources. I do not believe that her family knew of her pregnancy but I could be wrong on that count.
I do not have any information on my birth father’s side of the story, which leads me to believe that he may not have known about the pregnancy or he had interests to protect other than my mother.
Well there it is my history laid bare for the world to see, if you have any information my e-mail address is listed above.
Have a good week everyone!