Calling My Birth Father’s Friend.

I was all wound up yesterday after discovering the name, address and phone number of John in Austin, Texas who may have known my birth father. This man’s name was listed as a friend and a contact with the hospice and care center where my birth father died.

I brought everything (files,etc.)to work with me so I could figure out my plan of approach. I double checked the addresses and it all matched the last known address for my birth father and the address listed in his obituary. John had to be the guy!

The minute I arrived at work, I started the typical letter. Who I am, why I am writing and hoping they can be of assistance. I received an email from my brother in Austin and I asked about the address. I knew it was a mobile home park but was the address for the whole park or the individual trailer? He noted that the address was in a pretty rough area of Austin which would seem about right for the closing chapter of my birth father’s life.

The letter wasn’t going well. I always try to put myself in the place of the letter recipient. The letter was covering way too much and I couldn’t pull the details together in a way where I didn’t sound like a crack pot.

I looked up and noticed it was noon. Already 10:00 a.m. in Austin! I looked at the phone number on the pad of paper and decided to just call. Screw it!

I dialed the phone number and immediately realized I had no idea what I was going to say. The first ring sounded like I was calling another office in the building. Then there was a click and the rings sounded very far away. Exactly what I imagined calling Texas would be like.

After several rings, a woman answered. She sounded nice until I asked for him. Her voice clouded with suspicion as she told me to hold on a minute.

John came to the phone and I was surprised by his voice. I don’t know what I expected but this guy sounded way too peppy and vibrant. He sounded young!

I drew a breath and started talking. I told him my name and that this was going to be a very strange phone call. I asked him if he knew my birth father. He sounded puzzled. He asked the name again which I repeated to him. There was a brief pause and he very nicely said “Sorry, buddy. I sure didn’t know him”. I immediately apologized for bothering him and hung up.

Then my brain started working. “I sure didn’t know him”? Did that sound like something you would say if you never heard of someone? I would say “sorry,wrong number” or something on those lines.

I immediately thought of several scenarios. The guy thought I was some sort of bill collector or maybe he just didn’t remember my birth father from 11 years ago. Maybe my birth father thought there was more of a friendship then there was or maybe he was using this address as a mail drop. He was on parole at the time and somewhat of a drifter.

I debated calling right back and decided they probably wouldn’t answer if they thought I was a bill collector.

How could I be wrong? Exact same name, exact same address. It had to be the same guy! This was weird and depressing. A woman from another department called about some missing paperwork and I blurted out what was going on. She has an investigative streak and suggested I run John’s name through http://www.zabasearch.com which pulled up his name, address and date of birth.

The man I was looking for was born in 1935 making him about 72 years old. There was no way the guy I spoke with was 72! I must have spoken with a son. I did a little more digging and found an obituary for John from back in 2005. Once again, too late! Another gravestone.

So this guy must be the son and inherited the mobile home. I regrouped a little and decided my next step. I would go back to the letter. Maybe this John would know of someone who ran with this group of guys who could help me…

I banged it out in about two seconds. I wrote that I had called earlier in the day and I was very sorry to bother him. I explained who I was looking for and gave a description of my birthfather, that I knew he had been paroled, and anything else that might jog his memory. I asked John to contact me if he recalled anything or anyone at all that might help. Now I can only wait…

I spoke with an adopted friend later and she asked right off if I had already mailed the letter and I unfortunately had. She suggested next time sending along a self addressed stamped envelope (SASE) with any adoption correspondence. Good idea! Make it as easy as possible for them to respond.

For all of you folks out there searching and possibly reading this, learn a lesson from me. Writing is the way to go. A telephone call only gives you a split second to make your case. A letter allows you to plan your approach and play to the audience. And make it easy on them. Send along that self addressed stamped envelope so your reply isn’t sitting around on someone’s car seat until they find time to buy a stamp. They don’t know how important this is to you and you certainly want the deck stacked in your favor!