Somewhat back on track

My adoption.

Those two words open a big ole can of worms, so to speak ... and not just your garden variety earthworms and nightcrawlers either, there are some nasty Lovecraftian suckers in that can too.

As I stated previously, my parents were older when I was adopted, my mother was in her 50's and my father in his early 40's.

For the 1960's, not exactly the ideal ages that an agency would award a white male infant to, especially as a first child; later information confirmed this, that I was indeed a "private" adoption, aka "black market".

There are a number of reasons for this, both the adoption and why my parents - while I have nothing concrete to base it on, just the dynamics of the relationships between my mother and her siblings and my father and his, I'm pretty sure I'm close if not dead on.

Simply put, I was a reward. My mother was the oldest daughter, and the first American - as such, I believe she was put upon to help make good marriages for the rest of the family - incidentally, a job she apparently succeeded at, there were no divorces in that generation.

When the rest of the family were settled and producing grandchildren, then it became my mother's turn - exactly how she met my father is something that will never be known, however we were always told it was a blind date.

Regardless, they met and everything went in logical succession - love, engagement, marriage.

However, for whatever reason, and again this is complete conjecture on my part, my mother could not conceive - I believe probably due to her age at the time of her marriage, since my mother was about 15 - 16 years older than my father.

While women giving birth in their 40's and older is somewhat in vogue today due to advances in medical science, this was the late 50's to early 60's and such a thing was completely unheard of.

So, you have a conundrum...one I believe was answered by Fate in the form of teenage hormones. I have long suspected that I might have been fathered by one of my "cousins", however that's one of the Lovecraftian worms that I don't particularly care to deal with right now, so aside from a simple mention, it's not something I'll be addressing at this time.

Suffice it to say that the adoption went through, and about 2.5 years later, I was joined by a baby sister and we became the prototypical "nuclear" family; I've never delved into her adoption, however one memory does come to the fore - seeing her identical twin, in the exact same dress she owned, in the newspaper during a shopping trip.
Nothing more was ever said about that incident except for my parents to remark at the time that the girl in the picture looked exactly like my sister, down to the dress.

Okay, that's enough for now. I need a few minutes to regroup after dredging up all this and putting it on display - this is more shit than I've ever covered with a therapist.