The Meeting

THE MEETING
I can’t think of any memory other than the birth of my son that was a major life altering glorious change in my life than the day I woke up to a dream come true. I met that morning with a headache, severely dry mouth and feeling that I had just been run over by a Mack truck. It was probably the effects of that drug I tried for the first time with a Latino family that was staying in a room across from mine in the homeless shelter. The rum and coke probably didn’t help either. Since I had been used to drinking most of my life by then, I came to the conclusion that it was the cocaine.
I was living in the shelter for a few months when I found this ad for some kind of sales job that would relocate me to New York. I don’t remember the details of the job, but they were going to provide my transportation. It seemed like the perfect opportunity for me at the time. I was just biding my time before I had to leave. When I think about it now, I truly believe my prayer was answered to prevent me from going on that trip. Through the many lonely nights, walking and hitchhiking the long dark roads, looking for people or the next party where I could escape from my miserable existence, my prayer was a simple one. I wanted to find my real family and my mother who bore me and then gave me away. I knew in my heart that she missed me and that giving me away was something she had to do. I felt this from early childhood; it was the driving force that kept me running to find her, them.

My adopted mother told me once that I was adopted, and that my real mother gave me away because she didn’t want me. She said they had picked me special out of a whole bunch of other kids and that I should be grateful. When I was about 11 years old, after years of abuse, I ran away from the Arial’s. A few years later I learned from a state case worker some of my mother’s story. Her name was Ellen Jane McDonnell Parrott. She was married once to a man named George Parrott, her maiden name was McDonnell. I was told that she had three children, George, we call him Toby, from her first marriage and Kathy and Tammie both who were born out of wedlock. I find it kind of funny to use that terminology this day and age but that’s what it was called back then. My mother had six brothers and one sister. I was also told that she was living with her mother when I was born and the name of the hospital I was born in. This is the only information I was allowed to have. One of the many counselors I had at the time was going to help me find my grandmother, but nothing came of it. So I just stored the information I was given in my head.
So that morning I woke up to a sore head and the smell of fresh coffee. This snapped me back to reality, prompting me to get dressed and start thinking about my trip to New York. I was excited for another adventure and scared and nervous at the same time. I headed down the stairs grabbed the paper that was just tossed onto the porch and went into the dining area. There were fresh coffee and donuts. I shared a table with mostly women and children with the exception of the Latino couple. I nodded and sat down. I sipped my coffee and took a bite of my chocolate éclair, man I miss those things.

As I open the paper and the front page is revealed to me, I gasped and almost choked on my éclair. There in big bold letters was something that was about to change my life forever “MAN ARRESTED FOR ROBBERY OF AN ARMORED CAR”. All I saw next was the name PARROTT. My face got real hot, and felt like a dozen pins were poking it. My hands started shaking and my heart felt like it was going to come up through my throat. To this day I don’t remember ever feeling like that since. Shivers crept up my spine and everyone was looking at me asking me if I was ok, I just said “I don’t know”.
My favorite staff at the shelter was a heavy woman, I don’t recall her name, just that I really liked her. She worked the day shift. She asked me about the article I was reading and if the man was any relation to me. I told everyone at the table the story of my life and the information I received while I was in foster care. Most of them were excited for me; some of course thought it was crazy or that I was another crazy person in a shelter looking for drama. My friend, the staff member suggested I look into it further. She said that I just couldn’t let this go, especially when I had the gut feeling that this may have something to do with my real family. I was told that I could probably look into phone books and find his name or other names of Parrott and go from there. I was never one to throw myself out there like that, especially into a normal world of people, so I was a bit nervous about calling people out of the blue. I agreed because I realized that was going to be the only way I was going to find out.
The paper listed this guy Parrott as being from East Longmeadow. That’s the phone book I started with. I dialed a few numbers, most of the people who answered hung up on me. A couple of them said they were sorry but I had the wrong number. Finally, a person answered and immediately said “stop bothering us, we have no comment”. I knew right then, in my gut, this was the number I wanted. The lady on the phone sounded like she was about to go off the hook if one more person called her about the man in the paper.
It was probably the third time I called this poor woman getting as much information out of my mouth before she would hang up on me that she finally agreed to listen to me. I told her everything I knew about my family and my mother and that I saw the paper this morning. I told her I thought that somehow he was related to me or knew something of my family. I told her I that I lived in a homeless shelter and I think she thought I was crazy. She said she didn’t think she had any information for me but invited me over for dinner to talk about it. I really don’t know why she invited me, I think she was intrigued.
I remember people at the shelter being very supportive of me. I’m sure a few of course thought I was a whack job. The staff told stories of how I could be famous and inherit tons of money. I didn’t pay any attention to the drama I apparently created; I just wanted to know my MOM. I found the address easy enough, the bus route wasn’t so bad, took me about an hour to get there. East Longmeadow has a lot of nice houses and it’s considered to be ritzy compared to what I am used to. I wore casual jeans and a polo shirt; my sneakers though were quite tattered and a bit smelly. I didn’t want to look like I was homeless. I knocked on the door and was invited in. The house was huge and I felt like I was in a mansion. There was an aroma of spaghetti and garlic bread that filled the house and a huge chandelier that caught my eye in the dining room. The furniture was vary nice, some even covered with plastic. I definitely felt out of place.
To my surprise there were quite a few people at the house. The parents of the guy I read about in the paper, some sisters, brothers and some other relatives. My ego was thinking they were all here for me, but I’m sure they were gathered because a family member made the front page of the paper. I was very nervous, but they made me feel very comfortable. We had dinner and talked a bit about the guy in the paper and how he was always getting into trouble. They seemed to almost forget I was there until the conversation turned to ancestors. They made jokes about how far back the Parrots went, and of course nobody knew for sure. Toward the end of dinner they started to ask questions of how I became homeless and where I had come from. I gave them a brief sketch of life, how I ran away, lived on the streets until the state took me into custody and I was placed in foster care. I relayed to them again the information I received from a counselor years ago. I told them what I knew to be my mother’s maiden name along with the Parrot name my brother and sisters names, how it was reported that my mother had 7 siblings.
The mother spoke up first and said that it sounded like she might be George’s first wife. George was cousin or something like that. At the end of the evening they said they would call George and find out. They asked me if I had a number where they could reach me. I gave them the number to the pay phone at the shelter and they said they would be in touch. I told them I had plans to take a job in New York and that I would be leaving in a week. I didn’t know how they could get a hold of me after that. I went back to the shelter ecstatic, and my head in the clouds. I was pretty sure these people were going to help me and that something was going to come of it.
A couple of days passed and I was getting a bit depressed thinking I was going to New York with no new information. When, on the fourth day after my visit with the family I had a phone call late in the evening. I picked up the phone, and said “hello”. This deep voice came on the line and said, “Dawn”? I said “yeah”. He said”I’m Toby, and I might be your brother”. I was quiet for awhile. It seemed like hours before any words could come out. I finally said” Hi Toby, I think I might be your sister”. I told my story once again and repeated all the information I had to him. He asked if I knew whether I was born in a hospital or a doctor’s office. I told him that I was born at Atbrigm Young Women’s Hospital. He then said that he and his younger sister, Tammie was going to come and see me the next day. I said “ok”. I told them where I was and that I would be waiting for them.
I really couldn’t sleep that night; I stayed up most of the night drinking coffee, talking with staff and a few other people of the shelter. The Latino woman I had partied with a few nights before asked me if I wanted something to take the edge off to make me sleep, I said “no”. I wanted to relish in this feeling, this excitement. I began to think about decision to go to New York and whether I really wanted to take that job. I was about to meet the family I had been looking for all my life, I needed a justification not to go, so I told myself it was a scam anyway.
I was sitting on the huge porch of the shelter when they had arrived. I showered and changed five times earlier that morning. I was nervous with sweat. It was an old beat up car that pulled up in front of the shelter. I don’t recall the type of car only that it was small. George got out first followed by Tammie. George was a huge guy, and had no teeth, his belly flopped out and he looked like he had a major hangover. Tammie immediately started to cry when she got out of the car. She told me that she couldn’t believe how much I looked like our mother. I didn’t cry I was just nervous. It seemed like it took forever for them to get out of the car. Tammie was a thin girl, dark hair she looked Italian, and so different than George. My favorite staff was sitting on the porch with me. I was grateful that she came to the shelter on day off to support me and keep me company wile I waited. She laughed and said “I’m sorry joking about you being rich”. It clearly it wasn’t a rich looking scene, but none of that mattered to me. She asked if I wanted her to stay, I told her I was fine. I didn’t know if I should give them a hug or just shake hands. I shook hands with my brother and gave a hug to my sister.
My sister Tammie was still teary and I just kept saying “I knew it; I always knew there was something more to mom”. They asked me if I wanted to get some lunch, I said sure I had nothing else to do. The car ride was very awkward at first. But then they started passing around the homemade kaluha and asked if I smoked weed and I said “hell yeah”. I forgot where we went to lunch but we ate in the car and just kept riding around. They told me about my family and I again told them all I knew. Tammie said she knew even before seeing me that I was their sister because mom would get drunk sometimes and out of the blue she would say “I’m going to find her someday.” Or she would say, “If I have another girl I am going to name her Dawn Elizabeth”. Toby told me of his conversation with my Aunt Jean who is my mother’s only sister. He asked her if mom had any other children after Tammie, and not to lie to him. She asked him “which one, the one born in the hospital or the doctor’s office?” That had given Toby the confirmation he needed to legitimize my existence.
As we were embracing and enjoying each other’s company, it hit me. I realized that they were talking about mom in the past tense. I asked “where is my mother”? A sinking feeling came over me and huge hole started to form in my heart. They told that she died in a house fire in 1978. Toby and his family were away to Old Orchard Beach, and Tammie was there that morning but she had escaped. My mother was out of the house but she went back in to get something. I had a cousin that was sleeping on the couch who also died in the fire. As I sit here and write this I still have that same feeling today, a devastation kind of feeling, lost. I will never be able to see her or feel her to understand what she went through to hold her and tell her its ok I am here now I finally made it.

I was pretty stoned and light headed from the drinks but I still didn’t cry. The atmosphere seemed to have changed. I didn’t know exactly what it was but I had such a sunken feeling in me that I had to get away. Not that I wasn’t extremely grateful and appreciative that I was finally sitting with my real brother and sister, but my whole life all I ever wanted was to know my mother. I found out today that was never going to happen. I was completely overwhelmed by the events of the day.
So we agreed to call it a day, and they returned to New Hampshire. Tammie said she was going to call me the next day. She didn’t like the idea of me living in a shelter and said she wanted me to come live with her. This was something I really had to think about. She told me of a cousin that was getting married in two weeks and invited me to go. She wanted me to meet the rest of the family. I said I would go to the wedding. They took me back to the shelter and said our good byes for the time being.
I cancelled my trip to New York. I met my family. I wanted to know them and wanted them to accept me. I agreed to move to move to New Hampshire and live with my sister. I attended the wedding of some cousin I didn’t know. I met cousins and friends all were there for the wedding and curious about me. When I arrived at the wedding people were crying and staring. I felt like I was on display. I said to myself “Dawn, this is your family. Stand high on the pedestal. This is your moment. They have accepted you. Embrace them. You’ve just received a miracle”. I held my head high, shook hands and hugged people I didn’t know. This was my flesh and blood. The need for my mother still remains and another chapter begins in the life of Dawn Elizabeth. [Abstract]