It’s not all peaches and cream

It’s funny what you learn when you meet other people who have followed the same path.  Even though my adoption story hasn’t been perfect (indeed, whose life is?), it has turned out to be positive overall.  And while I still have a number of years (I hope!) to live, I’m confident they will be positive, too, regarding my adoption journey.

However, I’ve been recently pulled out of the myopia I’ve lived for so many decades.  I’m finding out that the adoption issue isn’t necessarily positive for everyone.  Even though I’ve known that from an intellectual standpoint, I’ve never really paid attention to it.  We’ve all heard of the adoptee who left her adoptive family to go back to her biological family.  We’ve heard of fathers who have sued to get their child back.  We’ve heard of Caucasian families who have adopted Native American children only to have the adoption challenged in court.

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Happy birthday to me

Whenever I’m interviewed about my book or adoption in general, invariably I’m asked what advice I would give to adoptees who are considering such a search.  The first thing I always say is “Expect the unexpected.  But don’t be surprised when the unexpected is not what you expect.”  When asked to elaborate, I tell the interviewer that there is no way a person can begin to prepare himself for the journey he’s about to pursue.  He will encounter emotions, feelings and situations unlike any he’s encountered before.  And he will then need to determine how to deal with them.

These emotions, feelings and situations run the gamut of humanity.  Identity, acceptance, frustration, cultural differences, nature versus nurture awareness–all will play a part in this enduring episode.  There will be bad times, heart-wrenching emotions, disagreements and frustrations.  But there will be joys, heartfelt emotions, and moments of epiphany.   All will reverberate throughout the adoptee’s life.

Adoption–where does the dad fit in???

I think it’s time I shifted gears and got back on the adoption track.  After all, this blog is based on my book.

I’ve been asked one question in particular during my radio interviews :  “What part should the father play in the adoption process?”

This is a VERY sticky situation.  This is a VERY sensitive topic to discuss.  But I will try from my unique perspective.

Personally, as a man and as an adoptee, I think the father should be involved in the adoption process.  I think the father should know about the pregnancy.  I say this, because I don’t think a woman should be left alone when she’s pregnant to face the difficulties, the health issues, the financial aspects, the emotional upheaval that will come from being pregnant.

A boring post (I admit it); certainly a short one

So, I’m home and life has set in.  I’ve hired a publicist/marketer to help me with my book and I’m really encouraged.  I was referred to her by John Erickson at K103FM and she’s worked with a number of professionals to get their books off the ground and jumpstart their careers.

She is going to help me with my marking and publicity (obviously).  She told me that she has three criteria in choosing to take on a client–she must feel the client is mediagenic.  By that she apparently means, someone who can speak and present himself well and knows his topic.  Also, she must believe in the book.  She’s read the prologue and first chapter of This is My Lemonade–An Adoption Story, from my website, was drawn in and really enjoyed it.  I gave her a signed copy to finish reading.  And she must believe that the person has something the media will embrace.  Adoption is one of those topics.

Home

I can laugh now.

After the frustration of Amsterdam, I can smile.  I usually do after I’ve hit the top of the irritability pop charts.

Actually, it didn’t take me long to get over it.  Once I knew the parameters of my situation, I relaxed.  Even though I ended up spending $1400 I wasn’t expecting from missing my flight, I was able to calm myself without trying.  Sometimes I think it’s the frustration of instability, of not knowing what’s going to happen that upsets me the most.  That and my rampant stupidity!

Stuck in Amsterdam

I’m glad I’ve had an opportunity to get some much needed shut-eye before any attempt at blogging.  My condition earlier did not lend itself to any type of emotionally stable discourse.  So, where to start?  How about at the beginning?

“The waiting is the hardest part”—thank you, Tom Petty.  

As I sit and type, the words from that Petty song swirl through my brain.  Let me explain.  Feel free to laugh if you want.  Eventually you probably will.  Right now, I just wanna go home.

After my sprint around Paris on Friday, I high-tailed it home for Vincent’s apartment.  I went to bed around 10:00 p.m., figuring it would give me enough sleep for my 7:00 a.m. wake-up to get ready and catch a taxi to the airport.

Louvre, no Paris

Louvre, no Notre Dame

Still somewhat sick, although I felt better after a hot shower and a long sleep.  Today was abbreviated because of my flu bug.  I took a cab to the Louvre and found out it was quite close to me.  No matter, I didn’t want to walk any more than necessary.  Even though today had quite a bit of sun, the wind is biting.

The Louvre line was a three hour wait.  I opted to go tomorrow instead.  I had arrived around 1:00 p.m. so that might have been a contributing factor.  I will try to get their earlier tomorrow; perhaps the line will be less overwhelming.

One of the problems of all these major sites is this:  they are all on or near the Seine.  When this wind whips up, I believe it’s coming off the North Sea, it cuts through your clothing.  As a result, I cannot (I will not) wait in a three hour line.

Happy New Year!

Everyone can quit worrying!  All is well.

When we last left Bob Mulkey he was loaded down with luggage in a Parisian neighborhood, chugging espresso, feverishly trying to get hold of the host for his Paris stay. Well, it’s worked out.

Let me bring you up to speed.

After awhile, I needed to leave the pub.  Even though it was only 6:00 p.m., people were starting to arrive in droves.  I was taking up the equivalent of six seats what with my luggage, laptop and all.  I decided it was best to be considerate and pack up my life and try to find my host, Vincent.