I haven't posted in a while but I do read some of the posts here.
Well, something happened not too long ago that I thought I'd share since it's a happy story. Well it has a happy ending anyways and it does have a JW element.
Ok, first some background. I was raised in the org by my mom and stepdad. She married him when I was 3. My real father and her got a divorce soon after I was born. He died in 1980 or 1981 in a motorcycle "accident". I use quotes because I have learned that the circumstances were very suspicious. Anyway, I never met him.
When he died, my folks took me to the courthouse and had my name legally changed. Come to find out, my name should have been Larry Michael N. because my real father wouldn't allow my stepfather to adopt me and change my name. My folks just went around that and called me Charles Michael G. and I went to school under that name too. It was a few more years after the name change that they even told me about it. I didn't think much of it. See he was "worldly" and "a bad person". Oh and he rode motorcycles (Harleys to be precise) so motorcycles were strictly forbidden for me. Because he was "worldly", he didn't get visitation or any contact whatsoever. I do remember one time when I was very young though. We lived on a dirt road way out in the country. There was a stranger's car in the driveway and my parents were talking to the people in it. I walked outside of the trailer and up to the car. There was a woman driving and a man in the passenger's seat with a wounded leg. They were arguing with my folks. The man had blond hair and a big beard. When he looked at me, my mom hustled me back in the trailer quickly. Looking back at that now, I am fully convinced it was my father trying to visit me.
Funny that I always had this attraction to motorcycles all my life. When I reached driving age and started really wanting one, we had a few debates over me riding one.
Fast forward to after my df'ing in 92. First thing I did was get a bike.
I rode that bike to meet my real father's family. I tracked them down right here in Macon. I met my brother (half-brother actually), 2 uncles, 1 aunt, and my grandfather.
Well, lives often go separate ways. I liked the family and they liked me. The first thing every single one of them said to me was "how's your mom?" They really liked her a lot and she just shut them out. I remember seeing a trace of hurt in my grandfather's eyes when he talked about my mom and how he wished they could have stayed in touch.
Fast forward to now. I lost touch with the family. No bad stuff to cause it, we just weren't that close. Come to think of it, I'm not really close to anyone. Everyone who knows me will tell you I'm a loner and terrible about staying in touch.
Last month I got a second chance.
I work in a tire store/auto repair shop. Like any other shop, we have our "regulars" -- retired older men who take meticulous care of their vehicles. Tire rotations and oil changes are done religiously, almost precisely at the mileage/date due. And they almost always insist on coming in to watch (read: supervise).
One of those regulars was in last month. He drives almost 20 miles to get to our shop because he has done business with our manager for so long. Well he wanted an oil change and an alignment so I grabbed the alignment. Here he came, watching me like a hawk as I set up the machine.
I did an alignment on his truck while he stood over my shoulder (grrr!) and we carried on casual conversation. I decided to be nice and did the oil change for him instead of passing it to the tire guys (I'm on commission so if I do an oil change I'm working for free). After he left my manager came up to me smiling and said "you know who that was, right?". (he knows the family history I just gave you).
That old man was my grandfather and I didn't even realize it.
I don't know if he recognized me or not. I kinda think he did. So I feel bad that I didn't catch on at the time.
I can't wait for him to come in again.
Mike.
whatever...