24
A GRIZZLY ON OUR PORCH
The Hale-Bopp Comet reappeared in the spring, 4,200 years after its last passage. The $50 billion-a-year tobacco industry finally admitted that cigarettes are addictive and have been targeted at kids for years. This was the world's hottest year. 160 nations met at a UN conference in Kyoto to form a treaty for combating global warming.
I wrote to Parent Finders in Montreal and ten days later Pat Danielson answered explaining who they were and what they did. Each Parent Finders group across Canada operated on its own. The one thing they had in common was that their members' birth dates and information were sent to the Head Office in British Columbia to be entered into their computer registry, C.A.R.R. (Canadian Adoption Reunion Register) and published in their newsletters.
Valerie and Caroline kept in touch and I was surprised at how quickly my granddaughter was growing up. I loved talking to her on the phone, thrilled to hear her call me grandma, and found myself completely in love with this little girl who came into my life and unconsciously brought her mother along. I wrote her often: she sent her drawings from daycare that were quite explicit as to what inhabited her mind, and we were slowly building a bond.
I sent Parent Finders $40 to become a member. A week later I received my membership card, #97-0091. Their newsletter included ardent accounts of re- unions, a list of searching adoptees, highlights of coming events, and addresses to write for information. I wrote to the National Personnel Records Centre, Public Archives Canada in Ottawa, Ontario to see if my birth father could have served in the armed forces (without a name, I don't know why I wrote; I thought my birth date would help) and another to the Quebec Family History Society, a non-profit organization founded in 1977 to foster the study of genealogy among the English- speaking people of Quebec.
I received a reply from the National Personnel Records Centre. Their indices for the military personnel records of former members of the Canadian Armed Forces were arranged by surname, given name, date of birth and service number as prime identifiers. Without this information it wasn't possible to make a positive identification. There were over 4,000,000 ex-military personnel records in their holdings. I guess that left me out.
Joan Vanstone of Vancouver Parent Finders wrote again telling me to get in touch with a woman at Batshaw Social Service Centre and be sure to tell her she had directed me to her personally; to enclose a copy of my birth certificate and to ask her to consult the records of the synagogue plus the court records in an ef- fort to find an original record of my birth. When challenged by an adoptee Dr. R. had denied he did many adoptions but he wasn't believed because his name had popped up too often in the past. She told me not to mention his name because if the lady at Batshaw saw it, she might quit searching too easily. "Let's make her dig hard for your information," she said, wanting her to do an exhaustive search on my behalf. I was heartened by her help, knowing she was a busy lady, and felt I had an ally genuinely interested in my search. I wrote the letter enclosing my necessary papers. This was the same office where Sylvia Kirstein and Rita Bloom worked but I felt that the request from Joan, as the National Director of Parent Finders, might have some influence for a more comprehensive commitment.
Valerie called to say they might be coming to visit. She was trying hard and the hold on my heart eased. I wanted my daughter back.
At the end of the month Pat Danielson wrote that she had put a request in the newsletter as well as on the Internet for anyone with information on Dr. R. to notify her.
Does anyone know anything about Dr. phineas Rabinovitch and/or his brother or brothers? It has been brought to our attention that these doctors sold babies on the black market - no papers, no records - during the 1930’s and 40’s. The adoptive parents' names were believed to have been put on the papers. We have discovered their residences: 4419 Esplanade Ave., 4643 Verdun Ave., 4331 St. Urbain St., 16 Ontario St. E. They may also have worked at the Mount Royal Hospital …
It didn't take long for a response. A lady in Ontario, Sharon Edelson, was also in my situation, as well as her sister, who had been lucky enough to find a birth name in her papers. She told Pat that Dr. R. had a clinic on St. Joseph Blvd. And that was where they were born. She knew a few others as well. Pat asked if she would mind if I wrote to her. She said she'd love it. Pat asked me to send her Dr. R.'s nurse's name and address and let her give it a try. Perhaps through the nurse we could find more staff willing to talk. She had checked the newspaper archives and couldn't find that expose on Dr. R.
Since Elizabeth loved Calgary, we decided to purchase a house for her to live in and for us to visit when we came to the city to do chores. She found a tiny house in dire need of repair within walking distance of the health food store, downtown, our favorite shops and the library. We closed in a few weeks and it took the rest of the month for a carpenter to strip and redo the floors, counters, cupboards and paint the walls. Then Elizabeth could work on the rest of it slowly in her spare time.
I received a letter from Sharon Edelson and the "Birth Buddies" were born. Sharon wrote:
I must tell you how this contact came Lout. Pat Danielson put your request on the Internet and my cousin in New York, who was always looking for me and my late sister, picked it up and called immediately.
She proceeded to tell me her full name and date of birth as well as her sister's and that they were both adopted into the Jewish faith. She sent copies of their birth certificates and Judgments of Adoption. The Jewish community in Ottawa was small and she knew of five other adoptees who were looking, but she couldn't say if they came from Dr. R. She was told that busloads of pregnant girls were brought to Montreal from New York and elsewhere to give birth. They were checked into the clinic under the prospective adopted parents' names so there was no record of the biological mother.
I was so excited I could hardly read the letter to Steve. Finally there was some- one like me. I responded immediately.
The family, such as it was, all got together again for a weekend at our cabin to celebrate Caroline's third birthday with a party, balloons, streamers, and presents and watched her gleefully tear at the wrappings, reveling in all the attention. I had bought a sled and Caroline, reticent at first, watched her mother take a turn on a snowy slope and then she tried. A hike to the waterfall, sloshing through the creek, building a dam across the water, finding ants under a log, bear prints in the mud and a mouse in the trap kept us busy while I documented my granddaughter on film as did Steve on video. The weekend dreamily disappeared and suddenly they were gone again. I didn't worry about her forgetting me anymore.
Because Steve's gout was relentless we went to see a doctor our neighbor recommended in the Okanagan Valley, a four-hour drive. He said something that made us realize he was psychic and I immediately asked if he could tell me my birth mother's name. He didn't hesitate - Rebecca Gershwin or Hershorn. The name sounded familiar. She was connected to me in some way and if not her, she might have some daughters and perhaps they were involved. He thought my adoptive father was my real father. My birth mother was young and slender, looked like Elizabeth, and was about eighteen or nineteen when she had me. She had a tough childhood, being little and delicate and maybe some TB or rheumatic fever, but she had a strong constitution overall. She had her public persona to keep up and had to labor hard at domestic work when she was younger but then became a baker. There was a secret part to he