A Difficult Story to Tell

This cute little blond boy is me. I was three and a half when this image was taken, and I'm sitting on the front lawn of the last foster home I was in before getting adopted. The name of the family was Wayman, and they lived in Ogden. This picture was what was shown to my adoptive parents when they decided to "procure" me.

Why was I up for adoption? Well, it's hard to talk about. I was up for adoption because my birth parents were both drug and alcohol addicted, and decided they'd rather not be burdened with the children they'd created, so individually, they up and split. My father first, then my mother. They abandoned 7 little kids. The oldest was 10, the youngest - a set of twins - were still toddlers in diapers. Seven kids left alone in a house with no food, no utilities, no help and no supervision. My mother had split for Houston to live with a black man. Eventually they would have a child together. His name is Eric, and he's my half-brother. The state sent my mother plane tickets to bring her back home so she could take care of us, but my "mother" cashed them in, and used the money for another fix. Hence, we were alone. Abandoned. Neglected. Hungry. Dirty. Scared. I've spoken to my birth mother, and I've seen her from a distance, but I've never spoken to her face to face. All she was capable of doing, through her alcoholic haze, was to blame everyone else for what happened, and make excuse after excuse. I finally stopped talking to her all together. I decided it was a total waste of my time.

My father, a musician, never looked back. He says that he tried to get us back, but I have a hard time believing that. I've never met my birth father. My siblings have, and they've told me about him, but I have no desire to. He's now remarried, lives up by Ogden somewhere and runs for Mayor of Farr West every time, and loses. His only comment about this whole affair is, "I'm not going to pay for this for the rest of my life." I'm glad he has a choice. We certainly didn't.

Sterling was the oldest and was at my maternal grandmother's house when the police came and rounded us up and took us away. Because of that, he got to be raised by family, while the rest of us were split up and farmed out to families from all over. In 1967 it was the vogue and civic minded thing to do to adopt poor wayfaring children. We all have paid for that fashionable behavior in some way or another. Sterling still champion's my birth mother and says I need to give her a chance. I think to myself, "you mean like the one she gave me?"

Jeannie, Chad, Me, Lisa and the twins, Jimmy and Julie were all unceremoniously dumped on the state and dealt out like cards to foster families along the Wasatch Front. At first all of the youngest from Me on down were kept together, and in the end we all went our separate ways.

Jeannie was adopted by a family in Ogden. Her "dad" was a police officer who had seen what had happened to all of us. Later, he would be able to fill in many of the blanks for all of us. She is a successful and brilliant woman now. She still hasn't gotten over having to play mother to our little rag-tag band.

Chad was adopted by a family in Kamas. Six months later the father in that family died, and Chad was quickly put back up for adoption. I believe that scarred him for life. He was eventually adopted by a family in Utah valley, close to where my wife is from.

I was adopted by a family in Park City... more on that later.

Lisa was adopted to a family up in Heber and is the best adjusted of us all. She is like me in that she wants nothing to do with our birth parents. She seems to be the strongest of all of us. She really is amazing.

Jimmy and Julie were in foster care the longest. I think they wanted to keep them together in that they were twins. The last foster home they were in was run by a woman named Sandra Sue Pearson. Why would I know that? Because she is the woman who murdered my little brother. She was in the process of adopting both Jimmy and Julie, but was horribly abusive to them. Her own daughter was never touched or abused, but Jimmy and Julie were routinely beaten. One day Jimmy peed his pants on the sidewalk outside their home. Sandra took him in the house, picked up a baseball bat, and beat a helpless, defenseless little boy to death. The biggest crime of all came in her trial where she was aquitted of murder. The jury said the prosecution didn't prove beyond a reasonable doubt that she intended to kill Jimmy when she picked up the bat. So she walked. Had the prosecuter been less ambitious, he would have taken the offered plea bargain and Sandra Sue Pearson would have served 25 to life for manslaughter... instead, she won her life. Julie saw the whole thing and held Jimmy's hand while he died. Jimmy was laid to rest in the pauper's cemetary in Ogden City Cemetary. He has a headstone now thanks to Jeannie and Sterling. Of all of us, I often wonder if he didn't get the best end of the deal. Weird huh?

Julie was adopted to a family in California. That little girl had a rough life. I think that all of these events combined to create a young woman who needs help. She is now the parent of twins herself. Sadly, we're no longer close.

Seven wards of the state. Six survived. Everyone has their demons. Everyone has their saving qualities. We all survived, but we didn't all come through it without damage.

This is me...take it or leave it.