Bastards Everwhere

http://www.firstmotherforum.com/2014/10/finding-your-roots-bastards-show-up-in.html?m=1

I had a little chuckle at this one.

Even though I’ve been in reunion since I was 19 (so longer in than out, at this point), it was during my teen years that I had no clue where I really came from. The teen years are the most “OMG WHO AM I???” years at the best of times, so imagine that when you don’t actually know.

My reunion was relatively well accepted by the extended family, or they at least managed to STFU if it wasn’t – I don’t know, my mother said a couple of things that made me wonder if they were just being nice – which is almost the same. Well. I say that, but I noticed that my cousins daughter went a bit *funny* when I mentioned something about my half – brothers … I find that particularly amusing, because I was in reunion by the time she was an infant.

Anyway! I ramble!

That post.

Turns out that a key member of the family wasn’t who he said he was, and he wasn’t from where he said he was either.

AND there were a couple of generations of pregnancy before marriage.

Que the confusion and questions. Que the “Ew, we come from where???”

Imagine the good, upstanding Catholic family, with its very strict rules on how things were done.

This is where I put in an aside: Growing up, my parents never said anything negative about my natural mother, aside from that she was very young and unmarried. BUT it was a spoken rule that no sex before marriage would ever be acceptable, and there was definitely judgement bandied about in regard to single mothers. So while they never said anything bad about her, it didn’t take a genius to know what they really thought.

Back to the subject at hand. Yes, I chuckled when I found out that my grandfather’s name was decidedly not what we thought it was. I chuckled when I saw that his parents marriage license was dated 3 months before he was born, and I laughed outright when it came out that his mother was bought up by her grandparents because she was a bastard too (and her Mum worked in the city, sending money back home).

Petty? Yeah, probably. Do I care? Nope.

To my mother’s credit, she was pretty much *meh whatever* about the entire thing – and when she was telling me about everyone else getting a bit bent out of shape about it, she was having a bit of a chuckle too.

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