Orphaned

Pirate Steve was actually named Theodore Jeffrey Elliott at birth. Baby Theodore is believed to have been born on November 19, 1957 in Buffalo, New York. Nothing else is known of Theodore. Except that he was damn cute.



What was the reason for his being given up? All is idle speculation. The great state of New York, in all it's splendor has decided that no adopted person shall ever see his original birth certificate, or know anything about his birth parents, ever. Yes, I can get on a list (and have) so that if my birth-parents ever contact the state they can get MY information and can contact ME if they wish. I am not holding my breath.

Frankly, I think that is completely immoral, if not illegal. At 18 I can be sent to war, prison, or anywhere else my country sees fit, but for the protection of (who?) I can't ever know about my own past - even when I am grown. Actually, the (who?) is the adoption agencies themselves.

They operate with practically no oversight, and without our being able to track each other down - how do we separated families know if what was done by their agencies was what they promised us? Even the agencies identity is "protected". How can I sue for being placed with monsters and having my life ruined (I wasn't, but I am sure it has happened to others). I am treated like a product, with no rights as an adoptee. If I had not worked out, my adoptive parents could have returned me for a refund. Did my mother make any money? I sure don't know, I was sold like a used car. But even a car is stamped with marks of origin, and I don't even get that.

Well, hopefully there are enough of us bastards out here now that this kind of nonsense will soon be changed - it has been in a few states already. Until the great state of New York stops pandering to above the law agencies, I am a complete mystery.

If you feel this is as ridiculous as I do, support Bastard Nation or at least vote your conscience should you ever see laws like this being challenged in your state, OK?

My real story might be painful, or horrid even. Or not. But it is MY story, and until I learn the truth I have no past, no roots. Weak or bad roots are better than no roots. For years I invented a past to fill this void. Now, I am merely going to have to find a way to live with no past. New York sucks. Thank God I didn't have to grow up there.

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