Dear Butch,
Dear “Dad,”
Dear Robert,
Hello,
We’ve never officially met. Not that I could remember, anyway. I’m sure you know who I am, though.
You and my mom were an item back in 1975, until she got pregnant. From how I’ve heard it told, you offered to pay for her to have an abortion. I’m a little unclear as to whether that was before or after you two broke up. It doesn’t matter at this point, though, since she refused, and subsequently lost a paternity suit against you.
At any rate, you know who I am, even though we’ve never met. I honestly don’t know much about you, although your family is pretty cool and always accepted me as one of their own. Whatever. Like I said, it doesn’t matter at this point.
I’ve thought over the years about what I’d like to say to you, if I ever happened to be in the same room as you, or if I could ever get up the nerve to look you up in the phone book and find your address to write to you. Since I think I’m fairly safe here on the internet — since hundreds of friends and strangers will read this, but the likelihood of you actually finding it is slim to none — I choose to make this my venue to say what needs saying.
Continue reading →
