| General Non-Fiction posted February 14, 2012 | Chapters: |
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What was hidden suddenly was revealed.
A chapter in the book The English Assignment
The second assignment. Part A
by keimosobie
The second assignment, write another persuasive essay. The first assignment had the desired effect on Mrs. Stone, but the effect wore off and when I went to collect my paper at the end of class this is what happened.
"I need to take another look at it. That was a horrible thing you did." she said.
At this time I had convinced myself that the whole thing wasn't my fault.
"I didn't do anything wrong."
"You lied," she said, giving me an accusing look.
"No I didn't," I argued. Great I thought, this woman’s a lawyer and now I’ve confessed. She is going to nail me to the wall.
Cathy spoke up and came to my defense. "He made the story up."
,
"You did," she asked.
"Yes I did."
Guess I was still the coward after all, Mrs. Stein knew I was lying, but she must be a defense attorney and not a prosecutor. She accepted my lie and thankfully dropped the interrogation.
When I finally did get the assignment back it was covered in red ink. Hey, you can't blame a guy for trying, I thought to myself. I decided to go for the sympathy grade for the next assingnment. I remembered my father had a brother who died in Vietnam. Since I was adopted I decided the new hypothesis for the next assignment would be, my father’s brother that died in Vietnam was actually my real father.
Before I start this part of my story, I want you to know, I started writing my auto biography when I was seven years old. Why am I telling you this you are wondering? It is because even at the age of seven, four years since the last time I saw my mother, I still wanted very much to find her. I wrote down my auto biography with every detail I could remember. I showed every person I could get to read it, like I was holding up a lost child poster and was offering a reward if anyone would help me look. Do you think a child loves his parent any less than a parent loves his child. If a child runs away they call the FBI and conduct a nation wide search. Then go to grief counceling. My Mother ran away and know explination was offered to me. Instead I was sent to live with strange people, who abused the heck out of me daily, My point is anyone who knew me, knew what I wanted more than anything on god's green earth. But know one would lift a finger to help.
Again I don’t have the actual essay anymore but this is how I remember the story.
James Joseph Ladd died in heavy fighting in the Quang Tri, South Vietnam
on May 8th 1967 It was a Monday. It is the 128th day of the year, and in the 19th week of the year (assuming each week starts on a Sunday). He was A US Marine- Semper Fi. He was 20 years old when he died.
Those are the facts I had to begin with. I have given my history and said that my mother gave me up for adoption when I was three and then I went from foster home to foster home and later adopted at age seven. When you are in a foster home and you are too young to know who you are. Like I was, the foster family often gives you their last name to use unofficially. So my name was William Russo. The problem was as I got older people asked me my name and I said William Russo. I wasn't just telling people that. I actually thought that was my last name.
So in an effort not to bewilder an already bewildered kid they just let me think that was my last name. I guess it also helps prevent the, would be foster kid from tracking down their real parents. So when I landed with the Ladd family at the age of seven I didn't know my real last name. I thought for all intensive purposes that it was Russo.
My new prospective family, the Ladd's never told me I had the wrong last name.
I say prospective family because when I got adopted at the age of seven it was more of an interview process. As crazy as it may sound, I was applying for the job of being a new member of the Ladd family. They were applying for the role of my Mom and Dad. It was a lengthy process. I had the power of veto and they did as well. My old foster parents were not letting me go without a fight either.
It was one very confounded and heart wrenching process. Even today I can't help wonder if I didn't make the wrong decision. Back to the assignment. The Ladd family had two males. William Ladd Senior and William Ladd Junior. That made things difficult for me as my name was William Russo. So of course I had to change my name. In the choosing of the new name my new father wanted me to use the name James Joseph.
"Why don't you use the name James Joseph after my brother that died in Vietnam?" he asked.
"Was he my father?" I asked.
He thought about it for a second then said, "no".
I said,"I don't want the name then".
I guess I wanted to force his hand to make him tell me the truth. He just stormed away angrily.
My grandparents on my mother's side of the family used to have a picture of James Joseph. It was a five by seven in a frame on the end table. They used to make me look at it and then they would ask me who he looked like?
They would never come right out and tell me who he was to me, but they alluded to it enough times. They would always say they were scared of my father and couldn't talk about it.
Then there was my great grandmother. She was the only woman in the world with the balls to stand up to my father.
One Christmas Day while we were visiting my Aunt for our annual Christmas dinner. I spent some time visiting with my great grandma. She was in her late eighties and lived with her daughter and it was said she was suffering from senile dementia. My great grandmother was especially fond of chocolates and she would always have four or five boxes of chocolate hidden about her room. I remember sneaking in there and finding a box of chocolate. The only problem was when you found a box of well hidden chocolate you had no idea how long it had been hiding so you were taking a risk when you ate some. To make matters worse, she didn’t like all the chocolate, so she would have a few pieces in the box that she would bite into, then decide she didn’t like it and spit back in the box.
On this particular evening she opened her bedroom door that she recluses in and motioned me over with her finger, she had a box of chocolate in her hand.
"Can I get my little sister? She would like some chocolate too" I asked.
"No", she said.
"Why are you being so nice to me? When all the other kids would love some chocolate."
"You're special", she replied.
"Why am I special", I asked.
"You're Buddy's boy", she said.
Well I was confused by this. I knew Buddy was my father’s brother’s name.
James Joseph Ladd also known as Buddy Joe. I asked my father and mother about it immediately.
"Why did great grandma say I was Buddy's Boy" I asked.
"Don't listen to her she's senile," my dad said.
I couldn't argue with that. It was collectively known by everyone that she was suffering from some sort of senility.
As I walked into the next room I could hear my Father say to my Aunt.
"Would you tell her to keep her mouth shut.".
"Buddy was her boy," she said in reply.
I was ordered to keep away from senile great grandma after that.
The second assignment, write another persuasive essay. The first assignment had the desired effect on Mrs. Stone, but the effect wore off and when I went to collect my paper at the end of class this is what happened.
"I need to take another look at it. That was a horrible thing you did." she said.
At this time I had convinced myself that the whole thing wasn't my fault.
"I didn't do anything wrong."
"You lied," she said, giving me an accusing look.
"No I didn't," I argued. Great I thought, this woman’s a lawyer and now I’ve confessed. She is going to nail me to the wall.
Cathy spoke up and came to my defense. "He made the story up."
,
"You did," she asked.
"Yes I did."
Guess I was still the coward after all, Mrs. Stein knew I was lying, but she must be a defense attorney and not a prosecutor. She accepted my lie and thankfully dropped the interrogation.
When I finally did get the assignment back it was covered in red ink. Hey, you can't blame a guy for trying, I thought to myself. I decided to go for the sympathy grade for the next assingnment. I remembered my father had a brother who died in Vietnam. Since I was adopted I decided the new hypothesis for the next assignment would be, my father’s brother that died in Vietnam was actually my real father.
Before I start this part of my story, I want you to know, I started writing my auto biography when I was seven years old. Why am I telling you this you are wondering? It is because even at the age of seven, four years since the last time I saw my mother, I still wanted very much to find her. I wrote down my auto biography with every detail I could remember. I showed every person I could get to read it, like I was holding up a lost child poster and was offering a reward if anyone would help me look. Do you think a child loves his parent any less than a parent loves his child. If a child runs away they call the FBI and conduct a nation wide search. Then go to grief counceling. My Mother ran away and know explination was offered to me. Instead I was sent to live with strange people, who abused the heck out of me daily, My point is anyone who knew me, knew what I wanted more than anything on god's green earth. But know one would lift a finger to help.
Again I don’t have the actual essay anymore but this is how I remember the story.
James Joseph Ladd died in heavy fighting in the Quang Tri, South Vietnam
on May 8th 1967 It was a Monday. It is the 128th day of the year, and in the 19th week of the year (assuming each week starts on a Sunday). He was A US Marine- Semper Fi. He was 20 years old when he died.
Those are the facts I had to begin with. I have given my history and said that my mother gave me up for adoption when I was three and then I went from foster home to foster home and later adopted at age seven. When you are in a foster home and you are too young to know who you are. Like I was, the foster family often gives you their last name to use unofficially. So my name was William Russo. The problem was as I got older people asked me my name and I said William Russo. I wasn't just telling people that. I actually thought that was my last name.
So in an effort not to bewilder an already bewildered kid they just let me think that was my last name. I guess it also helps prevent the, would be foster kid from tracking down their real parents. So when I landed with the Ladd family at the age of seven I didn't know my real last name. I thought for all intensive purposes that it was Russo.
My new prospective family, the Ladd's never told me I had the wrong last name.
I say prospective family because when I got adopted at the age of seven it was more of an interview process. As crazy as it may sound, I was applying for the job of being a new member of the Ladd family. They were applying for the role of my Mom and Dad. It was a lengthy process. I had the power of veto and they did as well. My old foster parents were not letting me go without a fight either.
It was one very confounded and heart wrenching process. Even today I can't help wonder if I didn't make the wrong decision. Back to the assignment. The Ladd family had two males. William Ladd Senior and William Ladd Junior. That made things difficult for me as my name was William Russo. So of course I had to change my name. In the choosing of the new name my new father wanted me to use the name James Joseph.
"Why don't you use the name James Joseph after my brother that died in Vietnam?" he asked.
"Was he my father?" I asked.
He thought about it for a second then said, "no".
I said,"I don't want the name then".
I guess I wanted to force his hand to make him tell me the truth. He just stormed away angrily.
My grandparents on my mother's side of the family used to have a picture of James Joseph. It was a five by seven in a frame on the end table. They used to make me look at it and then they would ask me who he looked like?
They would never come right out and tell me who he was to me, but they alluded to it enough times. They would always say they were scared of my father and couldn't talk about it.
Then there was my great grandmother. She was the only woman in the world with the balls to stand up to my father.
One Christmas Day while we were visiting my Aunt for our annual Christmas dinner. I spent some time visiting with my great grandma. She was in her late eighties and lived with her daughter and it was said she was suffering from senile dementia. My great grandmother was especially fond of chocolates and she would always have four or five boxes of chocolate hidden about her room. I remember sneaking in there and finding a box of chocolate. The only problem was when you found a box of well hidden chocolate you had no idea how long it had been hiding so you were taking a risk when you ate some. To make matters worse, she didn’t like all the chocolate, so she would have a few pieces in the box that she would bite into, then decide she didn’t like it and spit back in the box.
On this particular evening she opened her bedroom door that she recluses in and motioned me over with her finger, she had a box of chocolate in her hand.
"Can I get my little sister? She would like some chocolate too" I asked.
"No", she said.
"Why are you being so nice to me? When all the other kids would love some chocolate."
"You're special", she replied.
"Why am I special", I asked.
"You're Buddy's boy", she said.
Well I was confused by this. I knew Buddy was my father’s brother’s name.
James Joseph Ladd also known as Buddy Joe. I asked my father and mother about it immediately.
"Why did great grandma say I was Buddy's Boy" I asked.
"Don't listen to her she's senile," my dad said.
I couldn't argue with that. It was collectively known by everyone that she was suffering from some sort of senility.
As I walked into the next room I could hear my Father say to my Aunt.
"Would you tell her to keep her mouth shut.".
"Buddy was her boy," she said in reply.
I was ordered to keep away from senile great grandma after that.
"I need to take another look at it. That was a horrible thing you did." she said.
At this time I had convinced myself that the whole thing wasn't my fault.
"I didn't do anything wrong."
"You lied," she said, giving me an accusing look.
"No I didn't," I argued. Great I thought, this woman’s a lawyer and now I’ve confessed. She is going to nail me to the wall.
Cathy spoke up and came to my defense. "He made the story up."
,
"You did," she asked.
"Yes I did."
Guess I was still the coward after all, Mrs. Stein knew I was lying, but she must be a defense attorney and not a prosecutor. She accepted my lie and thankfully dropped the interrogation.
When I finally did get the assignment back it was covered in red ink. Hey, you can't blame a guy for trying, I thought to myself. I decided to go for the sympathy grade for the next assingnment. I remembered my father had a brother who died in Vietnam. Since I was adopted I decided the new hypothesis for the next assignment would be, my father’s brother that died in Vietnam was actually my real father.
Before I start this part of my story, I want you to know, I started writing my auto biography when I was seven years old. Why am I telling you this you are wondering? It is because even at the age of seven, four years since the last time I saw my mother, I still wanted very much to find her. I wrote down my auto biography with every detail I could remember. I showed every person I could get to read it, like I was holding up a lost child poster and was offering a reward if anyone would help me look. Do you think a child loves his parent any less than a parent loves his child. If a child runs away they call the FBI and conduct a nation wide search. Then go to grief counceling. My Mother ran away and know explination was offered to me. Instead I was sent to live with strange people, who abused the heck out of me daily, My point is anyone who knew me, knew what I wanted more than anything on god's green earth. But know one would lift a finger to help.
Again I don’t have the actual essay anymore but this is how I remember the story.
James Joseph Ladd died in heavy fighting in the Quang Tri, South Vietnam
on May 8th 1967 It was a Monday. It is the 128th day of the year, and in the 19th week of the year (assuming each week starts on a Sunday). He was A US Marine- Semper Fi. He was 20 years old when he died.
Those are the facts I had to begin with. I have given my history and said that my mother gave me up for adoption when I was three and then I went from foster home to foster home and later adopted at age seven. When you are in a foster home and you are too young to know who you are. Like I was, the foster family often gives you their last name to use unofficially. So my name was William Russo. The problem was as I got older people asked me my name and I said William Russo. I wasn't just telling people that. I actually thought that was my last name.
So in an effort not to bewilder an already bewildered kid they just let me think that was my last name. I guess it also helps prevent the, would be foster kid from tracking down their real parents. So when I landed with the Ladd family at the age of seven I didn't know my real last name. I thought for all intensive purposes that it was Russo.
My new prospective family, the Ladd's never told me I had the wrong last name.
I say prospective family because when I got adopted at the age of seven it was more of an interview process. As crazy as it may sound, I was applying for the job of being a new member of the Ladd family. They were applying for the role of my Mom and Dad. It was a lengthy process. I had the power of veto and they did as well. My old foster parents were not letting me go without a fight either.
It was one very confounded and heart wrenching process. Even today I can't help wonder if I didn't make the wrong decision. Back to the assignment. The Ladd family had two males. William Ladd Senior and William Ladd Junior. That made things difficult for me as my name was William Russo. So of course I had to change my name. In the choosing of the new name my new father wanted me to use the name James Joseph.
"Why don't you use the name James Joseph after my brother that died in Vietnam?" he asked.
"Was he my father?" I asked.
He thought about it for a second then said, "no".
I said,"I don't want the name then".
I guess I wanted to force his hand to make him tell me the truth. He just stormed away angrily.
My grandparents on my mother's side of the family used to have a picture of James Joseph. It was a five by seven in a frame on the end table. They used to make me look at it and then they would ask me who he looked like?
They would never come right out and tell me who he was to me, but they alluded to it enough times. They would always say they were scared of my father and couldn't talk about it.
Then there was my great grandmother. She was the only woman in the world with the balls to stand up to my father.
One Christmas Day while we were visiting my Aunt for our annual Christmas dinner. I spent some time visiting with my great grandma. She was in her late eighties and lived with her daughter and it was said she was suffering from senile dementia. My great grandmother was especially fond of chocolates and she would always have four or five boxes of chocolate hidden about her room. I remember sneaking in there and finding a box of chocolate. The only problem was when you found a box of well hidden chocolate you had no idea how long it had been hiding so you were taking a risk when you ate some. To make matters worse, she didn’t like all the chocolate, so she would have a few pieces in the box that she would bite into, then decide she didn’t like it and spit back in the box.
On this particular evening she opened her bedroom door that she recluses in and motioned me over with her finger, she had a box of chocolate in her hand.
"Can I get my little sister? She would like some chocolate too" I asked.
"No", she said.
"Why are you being so nice to me? When all the other kids would love some chocolate."
"You're special", she replied.
"Why am I special", I asked.
"You're Buddy's boy", she said.
Well I was confused by this. I knew Buddy was my father’s brother’s name.
James Joseph Ladd also known as Buddy Joe. I asked my father and mother about it immediately.
"Why did great grandma say I was Buddy's Boy" I asked.
"Don't listen to her she's senile," my dad said.
I couldn't argue with that. It was collectively known by everyone that she was suffering from some sort of senility.
As I walked into the next room I could hear my Father say to my Aunt.
"Would you tell her to keep her mouth shut.".
"Buddy was her boy," she said in reply.
I was ordered to keep away from senile great grandma after that.
This chapter will continue with part B.
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