My father was lying to me. This man, who spanked me many times for lying. My father who's favorite saying was, "You lie to your friends and not your family." It just took me twenty four years to figure it out. My fathers side of the family has always been shrouded in mystery. You see my grandfather, my father's dad, had died at a pretty young age. Not sure how young exactly but he told me that his mother remarried and his new dad was an alcoholic and an abusive bastard. That's about all I could get out of him. My Dad left home and he went to live with his aunt and she has been my unofficial grandma ever since. My father's younger brother Buddy had gone to live with his grandmother. The senile lady with the chocolates.

I went to a family reunion one time in queens were the Ladd family had taken up residence. It was the area just south of the Throgs Neck Bridge at the time it was a predominately Irish section of queens. I was bombarded with lot's of family that I had never met before. Cousins and aunt's and uncle's. While at the party one of my cousin's approached me.

"Hey you want to meet your grandparents?" he asked.

"Sure," I said.

"You have to come with me now," he said.

"Just let me tell someone where I'm going," I said.

"No you can't tell anyone and you have to come now," he said.

I had to think about this for a minute. I was in a strange city I'd never been to. With a cousin I never met. I had to leave my family without telling anyone. My father would probably kill me if he found out.

My cousin saw my hesitation on my face and said, "Do you want to meet your grandparents or what?"

"They are not really my grandparents. I was adopted," I said.

"They are your real grandparents," he said.

I couldn't imagine how this could be possible, but it definetly made me curious.
So I did the bravest thing I have ever done as a child. I went with him. It was farther than he had said. It was dark outside and he lead me through a maze of back alleys and holes in fences and blocks away. The further away we got the more anxious I was getting. We went into an apartment building up some stairs and into an apartment. The apartment seemed plain and dark and dingy. There was not much furniture as they were both sitting in wheelchairs that faced a small T.V. My cousin slipped out real quick.

Here they were in living color. I had been brought to stand before my father's sworn enemy. Bad blood between them there could be no doubt, but I was desperate for answerers. I went over to the enemy's camp to get them.

I saw my grandmother and, who my cousin told me was my grandfather.
"You look just like your father." grandma said.

"You know I was adopted, right?" I asked.

"They never told you who you are? I know your mother too," she said.

Well the whole thing was a bit overwhelming. I was only eight years old, but it was five years since I had any news of my mother who I was desperately searching for in every face and every crowd. However unlikely it was, I at long last had some news. I just couldn't piece together how it was possible.

"How do you know my mother?" I asked.

"I saw her not too long ago. Everyone knows her." she said.

I felt a strange flood of relief to hear she was alive and well.

I asked many questions. "Who is she? Where is she?" but no answers came.

"There is not much time. Don't you want to know your grandmother?" she asked.

I asked her why she was in a wheel chair? I was young and thought there must have been some terrible accident.

"It's hard to grow old. Wait till you grow old, you might need one too," is all she said.

I was there for only two minutes when my father came bursting through the door.
This must have been his childhood home for him to find it so quickly. I didn't tell anyone where I was going and slipped out undetected and traveled a good distance. Yet there he was two minutes later. I was scared to death. To risk my father's anger was a dangerous thing. He was angry. Thankfully it was directed more towards his step dad. My father had some words with them that I can't remember. I do remember the anger. My father grabbed my arm and pulled me towards the door and I could here his step dad yelling.

"He needs to know who he is."

Boy did I ever. But it was not to be. My father was angry and wouldn't talk to me. I had betrayed him and I knew to just keep my mouth shut. I was thankful not to catch a beating. Which I didn't. I did meet my grandmother if only briefly. I know now that whatever differences my father and his step father had. There are two sides to every story. My grandmother died some 25 years later in a nursing home. Senile dementia I was told. God knows what happened to Step Dad. Guess as I got older I could have looked her up and got answeres.But I really never thought about it again untill the English assignment. I never set eyes on either of them again.