My FairyTale.
My Fairytale.
All of my life I’ve felt like I should have a fairytale. Not a princess to be rescued or anything like that, but a life story that was amazing, joy-filled, with the typical ups & downs, not too much suspense, and something that made you sit back and go wow, what a story!
Well, I think I’ve uncovered it.
Without comparison, I am loving how this story has been unfolding. And as it turns out, it’s been unfolding since the day I was born. I’ve held my breath, I’ve held space, and now I have a story, a fairytale, if you will, to hold in my heart, forever.
This is my fairytale.
I was born on May 3, 1965 at 3:02p EST, at General Hospital in Rochester, NY. I was adopted two weeks later.
My parents, John & Estelle Eckl had been trying for 15 years to conceive. There was nothing more in this world that Estelle wanted than to be a mom. After heartbreak after heartbreak, they applied for adoption.
On May 3rd, 1965, at 3pm EST, they had an appointment to discuss their plan. I’m presuming the adoption office had many questions for these prospective parents, but the most important one came at the end of their meeting: Could you be ready in two weeks? A baby girl was just born.
Life with John and Estelle was amazing. And looking back, I can confidently say that my mom and dad adopting me, and subsequently, my younger sister, Jan, was a dream come true. Just like a fairytale should be. I (we) grew up in a family that loved me (us), and that was enough.
We were taught right from wrong. They took us to church, we were baptized and later in life, we went to Sunday school. They gave every opportunity and advantage they could: piano lessons from 4 years old on, flute lessons, art lessons, dance lessons, baton twirling lessons. We played sports like softball, bowling, and tennis. We learned to swim in our backyard pool. We rode our bicycles everywhere and played with our neighborhood friends from sunup till sundown.
We took family vacations - annual trips to Florida in April, and summer trips to Canada before the beginning of the next school year. We went to Disney World and Universal Studios. And we traveled in the back of our station wagon to many other states on the east coast & other places too, like the Bahamas, Puerto Rico, Mexico, Hawaii and California. We were blessed.
We learned magic tricks and held carnivals in the backyard. We painted rocks, and made shrinky-dinks, dippity-do flowers and learned to sew, cross-stitch, knit and crochet.
Mom’s house became the neighborhood playground. My Mom could do anything and everything. She was an all-star in so many ways.
But it wasn’t all play time. Mom tempered our lives with chores & responsibilities. We had fish to feed, and gerbil cages to clean. We learned to paint and garden. We shoveled snow (but we played in it more than shoveled it) We had dishes to wash and clothes to fold; and we were expected to keep our rooms clean. Can you believe that? When mom told you to do something, you did it. Period.
I wrote this 20 years ago for their 50th wedding anniversary on April 26th, 2002:
A tribute to Mom & Dad:
What a milestone. You have succeeded in a partnership that so many others only dream of, and few actually achieve. You have reached your 50th wedding anniversary. For 50 years you have been together! This is no small feat. Together, you have been through good times and through tough times. First without children, and then with children, and now with grandchildren, too.
Together you have worked at your home and family, as well as your jobs. You have instilled in us the basic principle that we should “do it right the first time” - so we wouldn't have to go back, or worse, have someone else go back, and do it for us. (sometimes that principle has worked for us, and sometimes it hasn’t. But we will always try.)
If we asked you what it takes to stay together for 50 years, what would you say? Do you know? The two of you are as different as night and day. Oh well, they say opposites attract. If you look at Michael and I, what more proof do you need?!
Dad is quiet but steady. Always there, willing to do whatever has been asked of him. Always willing to let mom do whatever it was she felt like doing - buy new clothes, rearrange the furniture, paint the house that aqua-color. To my knowledge, dad never denied her anything. From our perspective, if we had asked for the sun, moor or stars, I believe dad would have tried to get it for us - provided we had asked mom first. Your contentment to putter around the yard, or doze in your chair says how comfortable you are with your surroundings. You have a peaceful way about you. Your love is beyond words. Hmm, maybe that’s why he was so quiet . He is a good and generous man, someone we are proud of, someone we will always care about, someone we call Dad.
Then there’s Mom. Generous, not so silent, and always busy, busy, busy. If you aren’t cleaning or “doing” something, you’d be yelling at us, or dad, to “get busy.” Mom’s heart is as big as the world. She’d do almost anything for almost anyone. WIth a sense of responsibility that covers everything she touched. Her family, which included relatives near and far, her sister, brothers, nieces, and their families, her grandchildren, as well as her work family. Whenever any of us has required help, you have always been there in one way or the other. Ready, willing and able. (Sometimes with a bit more enthusiasm that we would like.)
And along the way, the two of you have raised two unique daughters. Yet there are wonderful similarities. Because of you, we are independent, resilient and strong women. Because of you, we are thoughtful, helpful and loving. We may not do all the things the way you would have liked us to do, but we do it the way we believe we should given what you have taught us - and we usually get the job done. You should take pride in this.
Mom & Dad, I may never match your generosity, your love, your caring ways for us, and now for our growing family, but we can promise you we will try. Your support through all the phases of our lives has been unwavering. Whether you agreed with what our choices have been or not, you have accepted them and that is a great gift.
So on this incredibly special day, we say thank you, for all your wonderful examples, for your support and love for each other and for us, and we say congratulations on this milestone occasion. May you always know how much we love and respect you, Mom & Dad, Nana & Poppa, Aunt & Uncle, Mother-in-law & Father-in-law.
Written by your children, with love & admiration. 26 April 2002
i will always honor and recognize how amazing my parents were because I wouldn’t have had the life I have without them.
That said, there were a couple other people in this fairytale that I knew nothing about. My biological mother and my biological father.
My sister and I were raised knowing we were adopted. There was no mystery or secrets. My cousin, JoJo, was also adopted, and so was one of my school friends. So it wasn’t an uncommon concept or discussion for us.
Sometimes we mused about who our biological parents were - and all the questions that arose from those musings.
What did they look like?
Were they nice people?
Whatever happened to them?
Did they miss us or were they sad about giving us up for adoption?
What would happen if we ever found each other?
Would they be happy or upset that we were disrupting their lives?
What if they wanted nothing to do with us?
We’ve all heard different stories for how these reunions can sometimes go. For many, it’s not a happy ending or the fairytale they had hoped for.
When I was older, in my teens, I asked my mom if she had any information on my biological parents. She had vague answers, but I never got the feeling she was keeping anything from me. Knowing Estelle, she probably started the conversation with, This is what I know:
My biological mother was 16. She got pregnant, and my grandfather sent away to a home for unwed, pregnant girls (because it was NOT COOL to be pregnant at 16 in 1965) and when it came time for my birth, she came back to Rochester and delivered me at General Hospital.
My biological father was 18.
They wanted to continue their education (i.e. go to college), and they were not staying together, so it was decided to give me up for adoption and they went on with their lives.
No geographical clues. No other family history. Nothing. Nada. Zilch. Okay, whatever.
My Mom died suddenly in 2004. She was 71. Almost 4 weeks into the new year, on January 27th, 2004. She was driving down the road and suffered a heart attack. Fortunately she wasn’t going fast, and as she slumped over the wheel, her foot slipped off the accelerator and she slowly drifted to the side of the road. My high school friend, Sal, a police officer at the time, was off duty and happened to be behind her on the road, so he was the one who called me. I will never forget his kindness, nor his assistance that day. It was the worst day of my life.
It took us a while before we could begin the process of purging. We dragged our feet for 8 months. When we could finally bring ourselves to start the clean out process, we discovered treasures to cherish forever!
I found a stack of “love” letters, still in their “par-avion” envelopes, in the bottom drawer of her sky-blue painted desk in the basement. They were from 1951. To be able to read from the moment they met, fell in love, and decided to marry - how cool to know John and Estelle had their own fairytale!
I also found my formal adoption documents and a very interesting piece of paper that had mom’s handwriting. Scribbled notes and cryptic details about my biological mother (on one side) and my biological father (on the other side). Whether or not she knew she had this, or had forgotten, it was more details than I had been given before.
The adoption papers listed me as “Baby Girl Baird”. I had a last name. My cousin, JoJo, fancies herself as a part-time sleuth. With the potential hope of finding my biological mom and/or dad, she started digging and began texting me questions and sharing with me what she was finding. It wasn’t much, plus the trail was quite cold, so we needed to do more digging.
I decided to do one of those DNA test kits to see what my heredity background was. I was so excited to learn I was 30% native american! I was SO intrigued ! Then the next time I checked it, updates had been made, and it changed to 30% indigenous american. What exactly is that!? I started googling so I had specific definitions and demographics to understand what that meant for me.
The 23&me.com also offers the ability to be matched with others that share DNA. Unfortunately, most didn’t feel like they would be related to me because the majority of them lived in California and some in Texas. I was still operating under the belief I was local. With the knowledge that my mother was deceased, and no information on my father, I let it go.
Early in 2020, the Governor decided to unseal adoption records in New York State. So, if I wanted, I could fill out a form to get my pre-adoption birth certificate for $68. Sure! That sounded promising! So I did it.
On February 24, 2020, I applied for my pre-adoption birth record for Heidi Marie Eckl. The confirmation email said it should take 45-60 days to process.
Guess what happened not even 3 weeks later. Yup. The world shut down thanks to a pandemic. Covid-19. Government offices were closed indefinitely and there was no info for when this request would be processed. Great. Another delay. Occasionally, I would go to the website but it was always the same vague answer for when they might start working again. Due to Covid-19, yada yada yada.
Then on 24 August 2020, I received an email that my pre-adoption birth certificate had been shipped. Finally, Here it is, in all its glory:
With wonder and trepidation, I let my eyes make their way to the “mother” information block. There was a name, and an age, listed. Bonnie Baird. Woah. I have her name. I looked for my father’s information, but the block was blank. Ugh.
Again, Jo-Jo got busy with renewed energy, and so did I. We started uncovering more information. My biological mother’s full name was Bonnie Baird Domke. My grandparents were Dr. Delmar Eichler Domke and Alma Grace Baird Domke. And my mom had a younger brother, Delmar.
Big problem though. We found the information from obituary notices. I was very sad. My biological mom died tragically at 19 years old. She was a sophomore at Lewis & Clark College in Oregon (what!? That’s across the country!) on an educational tour with a group of college students. She fell to her death while rock climbing in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil. You have GOT to be kidding me. I couldn’t believe what I was reading.
Now, as you can read in the obits above, my grandfather was a medical doctor who served as an Army surgeon during World War II, traveling throughout Europe. My grandmother, Alma accompanied him. My mom was born in Austria on March 31st, 1948.
That isn’t the part that caught my attention. Bonnie’s memorial service was in WEBSTER, NY. My grandmother was from IRONDEQUOIT. With 3 sisters, (my mother’s aunt's) Wilda Jane, Elizabeth Marie, and Olive Maude.
It appears the Domke’s lived in Oregon. And at the time of Bonnie’s death in 1968, Dr. Domke was medical director for the Oregon State Welfare Commission. Bonnie went to school in Oregon.
So how did I end up being put up for adoption in Rochester, NY?
I’m guessing some of what my mom was told was true, but in reverse. I’m thinking when Bonnie told her parents she was pregnant, they weren’t all that happy. Certainly it was not good that their unwed, high school daughter was pregnant in 1965. I believe they shipped her to Irondequoit to live with her aunt(s) until it was time to deliver the baby. After I was born, she returned to Oregon. Definitely plausible, don’t you think?
Both grandparents have since passed away, and to my shock, they are buried, with Bonnie, at WEBSTER UNION CEMETERY.
Are you kidding me!? My mom and dad are buried at Webster Union Cemetery.
This was a lot to process. Is this a fairytale or a nightmare!?
It’s okay… it gets better.
* * * * * * * * *
On January 28th, 2022, I received this message via 23&me.com:
My name is Rene Rodriguez. I live in southern California. This says we are half siblings. Let's chat.
And so it began. I noticed I started holding my breath again - this is not a habit I want to rekindle, so I would remind myself, just breathe - take it one step at a time and stay in this moment. Don’t let the wonder of this take over!
At first, I didn’t believe him. I was so bummed that everyone on my maternal side had passed away, I figured I’d never know much, especially about finding my biological father. There was NO way to find him. Or so I thought.
Rene persisted. On March 22nd, 2020, we finally graduated from messaging to texting. He had almost all the same information as I did about my biological mom and her parents (my grandparents).
So I dug out what my mom had told me about my biological father (and what was on that hand-written page) and shared it with him. He was going to speak to his dad and see how he reacted to this. We agreed some of the pieces didn’t all fit. But we both agreed that DNA doesn’t lie.
One night we talked on the phone. As soon as I heard Rene’s voice, it felt incredibly familiar. It was like talking to an old friend. Family, if you will. He is soft spoken and very articulate. I enjoyed our conversation immensely. He told me his thoughts and impressions about his dad while growing up and now, and I shared more about me and my life. We decided to talk more, ask questions, share pictures and he asked if he could share my cell number with his brothers. I said sure. He was also going to go back to his dad to see what he remembered from 1964.
Rene‘s dad was very skeptical about me being his daughter. He didn’t remember Bonnie. So, how could this be? But the boys were pretty sure. Again, DNA doesn’t lie.
A month later, April 2022, I was in Florida with Heather. A new text message came in from someone named Richard. Richard is Rene’s (full) brother. We texted the rest of that evening and then he sent me a quick video of himself so I could hear his voice and see him “talking to me.” It was wonderful.
In August, I facetimed with another brother named Adrian! Adrian is Richard & Rene’s half brother. And there were still a couple more to go! Joey and Michael. WOW.
After that call, I kept toying with the idea of flying out to California. What better way to check everything, and everyone, out for myself.
My logic was: what if something happened and I never got to meet my biological father face to face? I would be crushed.
So I booked a ticket to LAX for a weekend. I prepared myself to only meet the brothers that were interested in meeting me. I mean you never know, their dad or the boys could have refused to meet me. Just because I knew I wasn’t looking for anything or trying to disrupt anyone’s life, doesn't mean they didn’t. Once I told Rene about the ticket, I reiterated that it was just a chance to simply meet. No pressure on anyone. Rene was very happy to know that I was interested in coming out to do this. So he let his brothers know, and then he called his dads’ wife, Yolie, to update her on the story and that I was coming to California with the hopes of a meeting - face to face - with their dad. Yolie said, We’ll make it happen.
Here’s the rest of my fairytale.
My father’s name is Richard Rodriguez. He was born on January 28th, 1943 and grew up in Los Angeles, California. He is the youngest, with 7 older brothers and 5 sisters.
At 17, he enlisted in the Air Force. At 18, he married a woman named Ruth. She lived in Washington State. They had a son named James when he was 20. During this time, Richard was stationed in Puerto Rico for 2 years. When he was discharged in April 1964, he was 21. He went to Washington State and collected Ruth and James and they moved to California. It didn’t go well, as Ruth missed her home and her family. Richard understood, but he was set on staying in California. They split up, and Ruth moved back to Washington State with James. Unbeknownst to Richard, she was pregnant with their daughter, Lori. I don’t believe they’ve ever met or if they did, it was very brief. I don't expect to meet either of them, but you never know.
Richard was very popular back in his hey-day. According to his sons, he’s charming and charismatic; with lots of girlfriends. Somewhere in there, during the late summer of ‘64, he and Bonnie got together.
Early in 1965, he was in a relationship with a woman named Tilly, and they had 2 sons together: Richard, (born 4 months after me) and Rene, born in 1966. He and Tilly split, and Richard married Anna. Together they had 3 sons: Michael, Joey and Adrian. Are you keeping count? That’s SEVEN HALF-SIBLINGS for me!
Richard and Rene spent a lot of time with Michael, Joey and Adrian and they all view themselves as one family, and that includes their moms, Anna and Tilly. I love this more than I can articulate.
James and Lori are not in the picture and live far away. But all the boys, my brothers, live in California, relatively close to each other. So out of the 5, Richard, Rene, Michael, Joey and Adrian, I am the oldest. Adrian is the baby - 20 years my junior. (Unfortunately he was in Europe when I was visiting so I didn’t get to meet him face to face.)
. *. *. *. *. *.
This has all felt so surreal and strange. I have approached all of it with awe and simple wonder, wrapped in so much gratitude. Ok. here we go.
Friday, September 16th, I flew into Los Angeles airport. My brother, Rene picked me up and we went to dinner at the iconic Phillippe’s for french dips.
(I quickly noticed that everything worthwhile in LA is iconic, legendary, and/or world-renowned) And I have to say, the food really was fantastic! I knew right away we would have a good time eating our way through LA, if nothing else. Taquitos, Tacos, Steaks, In & Out Burgers! It was ALL delicious.
Rene was kind enough to be my chauffeur, my tour guide, my historian, and all the while, I just felt that he was my brother. He took such good care of me, checking in if I was too quiet, asking how I was feeling, if I had questions, was I nervous or anxious. Waiting for me when I wasn’t ready. And anything I wanted to do or didn't want to do, he deferred to me. We kept the entire weekend flexible. And he never made me feel bad or stupid for some of the questions that I asked. I felt so safe and at ease with everything and everyone. I am forever grateful for that and the credit goes to Rene.
Saturday morning. Time to meet my family for breakfast. Richard coordinated this. .
When morning came, I realized I should start journaling after meditation in order to really remember things - in the moment - for after I returned. Then I was ready for the day.
Rene picked me up and we went to the California Grill.
One by one, they all arrived. Hugs for hellos seemed the preferred method of meeting for the first time. Again, it all felt natural and comfortable. We would just look at each other and I would think, wow. The wonder of it all. Sometimes it was said out loud.
First to arrive was little Michael, my nephew. A tall, handsome young man, 30 years old and an attorney at Universal Studios music department. He’s so impressive. (I did not meet his dad, my brother Michael, this trip)
As the 3 of us made our way to the table, my brother Joey arrived. So handsome and a little on the quiet side. But he had the biggest, most genuine smile I’ve ever seen. More hugs. Bear hugs. I loved that. And then I immediately gave him a little grief about his choice of hats. Haha.
Joey has his own business, like his father’s. He runs an HVAC company in Hacienda Heights. He’s very strong and very busy. He also helps out at his friend Johnny’s bar & restaurant. He does the grilling and many other things, but thank God for this connection because I needed a place to go watch the Bills play on Monday afternoon!! (Evidently there’s a lack of Bills backer bars in East L.A.)
Richard arrived - with flowers, omg - i didn’t know what to say! How thoughtful! I was truly moved. And he brought his mom, Tilly. She is now 86, and could easily pass for someone in her 70s. Anna arrived, (Joey’s mom) and she is beautiful. We all sat down for a wonderful first meeting. Lots of laughing, talking, and sharing. This is Richard and me:
Here’s the family from Saturday’s breakfast!
Left to Right: Rene, Tilly, Me, Richard, Joey, Anna and Little Michael
The rest of the day was spent with just my brothers Rene, Richard & Joey. We drove all over East L.A., Montebello, and other places. Visiting where they grew up, where they went to school, where my dad went to school and then we’d eat. Or drink. And then sightsee some more. And eat. Or drink. So much fun.
That night, Richard had arranged dinner for a smaller group of us at his favorite steakhouse, Clearman’s: Joey, his girlfriend, Brisa; and Kathy, Rene’s wife of 32 years. We were all so tired. and there was so. much. food! It was amazing!
Sunday morning. This was the day! I journaled, and meditated. I wasn't feeling anxious, just so happy, and (still) filled with wonder.
Rene picked me up and we spent a little time driving around while talking. we were supposed to be at his dads around 1p. what struck me was when we pulled up to the house was when Rene asked: are you ready? I was.
When the door opened, I truly didn’t know what to expect. but it didn’t matter. It was like walking into my home. Yolie answered the door and before the greeting was over, I looked up and there he was, walking up to greet me. so i’ve been told we are related!, he said. And he gave me a little hug.
Yolie arranged lunch for us, and I couldn’t come empty handed. Kathy graciously picked up a few ingredients I asked her to get. Guess what I made. Buffalo Chicken Wing Dip. i didn’t know they are not big cheese fans, (especially cream cheese) but they were willing to try it. Everyone had seconds.
The entire day was relaxed and happy. Kathy was already there with my nephew, Christopher, and my niece, Sarah - who happens to be an artist, born April 7th, 1992. (my Rachel, born April 8th, 1992). Richard arrived a little later with Tilly, and then Joey. We all sat around talking and laughing more… sharing more details… little nuggets about our lives, our histories. Listening to Richard question how he could be my dad, but having the brothers and Yolie just laugh: Oh, there’s no question. Just look at you two!
it all felt right. it all felt real. and it all felt like wonder. like a fairytale come true.
I have 5 brothers! and a dad! and an entire family to add to what I already have! And if you know me, you know family means everything to me. And thanks to John and Estelle, my mom and dad, that concept, that feeling was never about biology. Estelle led by example when it came to opening her heart, and opening her home. She was ALWAYS there for whoever needed her - and sometimes when they didn’t. All I know is my families are my world.
I shared this fairytale with someone i love & respect. This is what she said about fairytales:
a fairy tale is about adventure, perseverance, and finding one's way to (good) fortune....your fairy tale is the family and all you spin to gold in Kroft Castle ~ it is your heart, the one you live (and one you learned from Estelle).
so, this. is. my. Fairytale. and there’s more to come. in the mean time, if ya wanna dish a bit, pick up the phone & give me a ring.
