May 31 '03
Volume 365
Rhea's Discovery By Rhea Palmer
My curiosity as to
Needless to say, Mom said yes. So began the fantasy every adopted child has of having famous parents. As I grew older, reality set in and I resigned myself to the fact that my natural parents were normal people. (Although, I did allow myself a fantasy or two!) My adoptive parents were always frank with me about how I came to them. My natural grandmother, Virginia O’Kelly, was dating a man who worked in a steel mill with my Dad. This man was the one who told my adoptive parents about me. The adoption went smoothly and I was moved into my new home in Memphis, Tennessee. Mom did withhold all names until I was around twelve or thirteen. My birth certificate was incorrect, but it was mentioned that it would probably be better to just leave it the way it was in case I got a wild hair at a later point and wanted to search for my natural family. That was also when I found out I wasn’t born in Meridian, MS, but Oxford, MS. I liked the idea of Oxford better. No offense to fellow Meridianites, but the idea of being an Ole Miss Rebel had more appeal to a pre-teen. A few years later, Mom and I tried making a few phone calls trying to track down the whereabouts of Caryl O’Kelly. We knew at the time of the adoption she married someone with the last name of Hillhouse and we had a rough address of where she lived at the time. We started calling and pretty much came to a dead end. I wasn’t computer-literate at the time so the Internet wasn’t an option for me. A few years after that, I started getting the fever again. By this time, I was well acquainted with the Internet and started to poke around again; this time looking in places such as www.adoption.com and www.ancestry.com. Every time I would come up empty-handed. Caryl was no where to be found. Her mother Virginia, was no where to be found either. I had no current last names, no history past 1973. I was discouraged and gave up the search. Then one night a couple of weeks ago I started looking again on a whim. I was pretty skeptical by this time and wasn’t really expecting much out of this search. I was a dog with a bone, though. I had to try again. I tried using just the search engine to find them instead of going through websites as I had done in the past. I typed in Caryl O’Kelly, nothing. Then I typed in Virginia O’Kelly. A few lines down I came across "RRN Family." The mention of Mississippi caught my eye, and I saw the name Virginia Crouch O’Kelly Bratton. I clicked the link and found the family tree attached to Wayne and Barbara Carter’s Ridge Rider News website. Still skeptical, I browsed through the names, clueless as to who they were. Then I scanned Virginia’s children. There she was: Carol O’Kelly Mullins. This was too good to be true. I’ll admit I was still skeptical even though it was right in front of me. At 10:30 that night I called Mom. (She’s a night owl and is used to me calling about goofy stuff!) Over the next hour and a half we managed to convince ourselves I hit the jackpot. I decided to send an e-mail to the main address and see what came out of it. I wasn’t thinking of the consequences, which I feel I ought to explain at this point. Never in all my searching had I planned to just contact my natural mother out of the blue. I had no idea what I would be walking into. I had it in my head that depending on the situation, I would send a letter. For all I knew, she had a new life and family who did not have knowledge of me. I never felt I was lacking anything because of my adoption, but the curiosity was there. I felt comfortable sending this particular e-mail, though, because this wasn’t a direct relative. To avoid conflict, I mentioned for genealogical reasons I was interested in a couple of people listed on their family tree. I sent the e-mail before I had a chance to change my mind and spent a pretty much sleepless night wondering what sort of response I would get. I had so much going on inside my head. So many emotions I didn’t even realize I had. I had gone into my initial search for my mother with the idea I was wanting family tree information or medical history. I was an O’Kelly with red hair. I figured I had some kind of Irish background somewhere. I had no medical background. What if I needed it? Nothing prepared me for what I felt after sending that e-mail. All of a sudden, I WANTED it to be the right family. I WANTED to know what Caryl looked like. Did she look like me? Mom had mentioned I was built like Virginia. I wanted to see pictures of her to see if it was true. The next morning, Mother’s Day, I received an e-mail back from Wayne saying, yes, I had the right people, and after giving me a little bit of additional information, he wrote, "This is not a requirement for us helping you, but we are curious as to what your interest is since we cannot find any mention of you anywhere." Well, I was floored. I mean, FLOORED. I remember sitting there just kind of staring dumbly at the e-mail I just received, wondering what in the world was I going to do now. This was the moment I had been waiting for and I had no idea what to do with it. It’s always amazing when we read something that we find hard to comprehend we re-read it time and time again thinking the words will somehow just go poof! and disappear or read something like, "Ha, Ha, fooled you!" Well, Uncle Wayne, your words did not disappear and I was still sitting there reading them over and over again. Just in case. Trying to sound impartial and perky, I wrote back saying something like, "Thank you, that was what I was looking for. I don’t blame you for being curious, because I do have additional information about them. May I contact you by phone?" Now I was really on pins and needles. Everything I had ever heard about adopted children meeting their natural parents came rushing back to me. I was expecting anything from a wonderful reunion to a hostile response saying I needed to stay out of Caryl’s life. I had psyched myself up for the worst and still nearly dropped the phone when I saw the call come in. It was Barbara. I was so nervous I don’t recall details of what we talked about. I do remember the feelings, though. And it was wonderful, absolutely wonderful. All of a sudden, nothing else mattered but the fact I was in contact with my natural great-aunt and uncle. Everything was okay now. We talked and talked and talked. How in the world do you catch up on 30 years of everything in an hour and a half? We set up a meeting for that next Saturday. That gave me a week to plan my questions and gather my pictures. Saturday morning I was ready. I shut everything out on the drive down except for my radio. I knew if I allowed myself to think I would be a nervous wreck by the time I made it to Pontotoc. So I wasn’t prepared for the reception I got. Uncle Wayne and Aunt Barbara seemed overjoyed to see me. I couldn’t believe it. When Barbara hugged me, it was the first time I felt myself lose control and tear up. Yes, Uncle Wayne, hugs like that are reserved for special occasions! That whole day was the shortest day of my life. We laughed and talked and caught up on everything. All the gaps were filled in that day. It was neat to listen to them mention my resemblance to Cheryl, Caryl, and Brigitte. I had always heard people say I looked like my adoptive Mom and Dad, but I had always chalked it up to them saying what they thought I wanted to hear. This was a REAL resemblance. We looked through more pictures than I could count. Tons of them. I was still in shock at the reception I received. I was still in shock that I was even there. My brain was in overdrive trying to remember the names and faces and dates and events of the family I never knew. It is impossible to write in a short space everything I went through that day. I left to go home that night at 11:00, still not really ready to leave. I have had a wonderful life with my adoptive parents and I wouldn’t change it for the world, but I am also blessed with an extended family now. And that I wouldn’t change for the world either!
RidgeRiderNews.com Registered Dot Com Several years ago, I began making Ridge Rider News available on the Internet. At the time, I used the services of CompuServe. As a paid subscriber to CompuServe, they allowed me to use their system to host my website for no additional charge. The only problem was if someone asked me my web address, it was far too long for them to remember it. In fact it took me a long time to memorize it. As I recall, it was "ourworld.compuserve.com/homepages/waynecarter." In the world of the Internet, a web address having the extension ".com" is highly desirable. As the business world gobbled up all the dot coms with three letters or less, I figured there would be little chance of finding rrn.com, unregistered. After checking on the availability of rrn.com and later rrn.org, my suspicions were confirmed. They were registered, and while one was for sale, the owner wanted approximately $2,500 for it. I soon learned what the business world had known for years, with respect to a web address, short is good. That's why National Public Radio registered www.npr.org, and General Electric used www.ge.com. Folks like me, who got interested in Internet domain names a little late, found themselves having to choose longer domain names. Winn Dixie had to use www.winndixie.com, because Western Digital had the rights to www.wd.com. Even SUPERVALU Inc. came in late with www.supervalu.com, because an Internet service provider named Silicone Valley had chosen "sv.com." I looked at all sorts of combinations of names and letters found within "Ridge Rider News," but the shortest, easiest to remember, seemed to be www.rrnews.org. I might have chosen "www.ridgeridernews.com" , but it was registered to a manufacturer of mountain bikes, and www.rrnews.com belonged to a runner’s newsletter named Running Research News. I considered "www.ridgeridernews.com" but found my Shingletown, CA, friends had registered it. Thus, given my choices, www.rrnews.org was the name I finally registered. Wouldn’t you know it, about the time I decided on www.rrnews.org, Karyn Lamb of Shingletown, CA, emailed me to say they would not renew their registration of "www.ridgeridernews.com." I recall thanking her for the information, but having already made a commitment to www.rrnews.org, I did not pursue my interest in "www.ridgeridernews.com." Apparently, some people have trouble understanding me when I tell them my web address is "r r news dot org," and I typically explain the two r’s stand for Ridge Rider. Therefore, the longing for a recognizable and memorable domain name has resurfaced on occasion. Additionally, I have long considered registering ridgeridernews dot com and having it forwarded to www.rrnews.org. This publication is already costing me more than two grand a year, so what’s another thirty-five dollars? There were some things I wanted to learn about forwarding in order to prepare for the possible use of my website to host a yet to be created website for Pontotoc County Habitat For Humanity. I’m sure there’s a way to do it so that Pontotoc’s Habitat for Humanity has a web presence, and I need that know-how, prior to making the space available. With what I considered a justifiable reason, I recently registered the domain name, ridgeridernews.com. Presently, anyone, typing "www.ridgeridernews.com" in the address line of an Internet browser, will be redirected to the website of this newsletter. Now, when folks ask about my website, I can tell them it’s the same as the name of the newsletter, and the only folks who’ll have trouble with that are the ones who think the name of the newsletter is Ridge Runner News. But, since I'm a rider not a runner, don't look for a name change of this newsletter, merely to accommodate a forgetful few.
Caitlyn and Soopie Real And Imagined The article in last week’s issue of RRN concerning imaginary friends prompted a response from Dena Kimbrell, who wrote, "Speaking of Mr. Hobbit, Caitlyn had an imaginary friend, for a long time, also. His name was Soopie, and he was very real to her. He also got her in loads of trouble. Soopie first appeared when we were coming home from an Atlanta Braves baseball game, and we stopped in Columbus, MS, because Caitlyn got sick. My mother leaned over in the back seat to do something for Caitlyn. Catilyn screamed, "Get off him! Get off him! You’re on Soopie," When we would send Caitlyn to bed at night, we often heard noises on the wall as though someone were kicking it. Of course Soopie was to blame. He even ate at the table with us. I’ll never forget the time Caitlyn’s Daddy sat on Soopie. She was very upset. It ended up that we would have to take Soopie and put him outside many nights. Bob told Caitlyn one night that he had put Soopie in the truck because he was being so bad. When he left for work the next morning, Caitlyn was highly upset because Soopie had gone with Bob to work. In Caitlyn’s mind Soopie was really there. I would hear her laughing out loud, and I would ask her what was so funny. She would tell me, "Look at ole Soopie! He is so funny.""
Bodock Beau Assorted Humor This is "Women's Week," so women play a major role in developing the humor in two of the following: Once, in a small town there was a busybody who took upon herself to be by appointment by God the town morality representative. One of her assignments was to cruise by the local tavern, note the vehicles there, and wait until the next general meeting at church to denounce them.
This time it was old John's turn. She saw his pickup outside the tavern and,
sure enough, at the next meeting she rose to her feet and with
righteousness "I know you are a sinner because I saw your pickup, which is well known by all present, parked in front of the tavern." Most nodded in approval. John didn't. He rose, put on his hat and walked out. The next morning the busybody went out to get the morning paper and there was John's pickup parked in front of her house. It had been there all night.
Contributed by Shelly Johnstone They keep telling us to get in touch with our bodies. Mine isn't all that communicative but I heard from it the other day after I said, "Body, how'd you like to go to the six o'clock class in vigorous toning?" Clear as a bell my body said, "Listen fat boy....do it and die." Amazing! ! You hang something in your closet for a while and it shrinks two sizes! I read this article that said the typical symptoms of stress are eating too much, impulse buying, and driving too fast. Are they kidding? That's my idea of a perfect day.
Contributed by Ken Gaillard
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what my natural mother looks like dates back to when I was
around three. Mom and I were watching a Sonny and Cher show and Mom said
I asked, "Is that what my mother looks like?"
