To Sing Frogs Chapter 3a

Me and my younger brothers Tom and Rodney ca. 1969

Chapter 3

 

Determining a Direction

 

 

 

I had no idea where Mindy was or what she was up to. All I knew was she had adopted a couple of kids from Unstablestan or Someotherstan. It had been a year since I threw out the Michigan social worker. The family business had grown and we were now in a better position to move forward with an international adoption. Mindy would know where to start, and she had always been a sweetheart.

Mindy was my first cousin on my mom’s side. She was the stereotypical beautiful little blonde girl on the front row of elementary school pictures. Unlike the stereotype, my cousin was always nice to everyone.

She was several years younger than I was and close to my younger brother Rod’s age. I remember that because Rod and Mindy were going to get married. It wasn’t as Ozark as it sounds. By the time they were six they got over it.

Mom told me she thought Mindy and her husband were in Texas, but she’d get her info from my uncle. After a few days of waiting for the details I made the call.

“John! It’s so good to hear from you! How long has it been?”

“It’s been a while. What, two or three decades?”

“Oh, it hasn’t been that long. Nice to see you still have that sense of humor.”

“Yeah. So how’s life been treating you?”

She told me her family was doing great and I could picture her twirling a phone cord in her fingers even though she must have been on a cordless handset. She asked about my family and I continued with small talk. We were all fine.

“Your mom doing any better with losing Rod?”

I paused while staring out the window. There was nothing to see. The dense Midwestern woods behind our house obscured everything in their midst. It had been almost six years since Rod was killed in an explosion while welding on an oil tanker. At twenty-nine, it was a real shock to everybody, and mom took it the hardest. Maybe not. Maybe I took it the hardest. Mom never got over it, though. I hate talking about death. “Mom’s fine.”

“Remember when Rod and I were going to get married?” Mindy giggled.

“Yeah. Pity we didn’t live in Banjo-ville.”

This time it was a full-blown laugh. “You’re so bad. Dad told me you might be calling. He said you and Amy are considering international adoption.”

I told Mindy all about the failed meeting with the social worker and how we had decided to reach over the pond. She thought we had made a good choice, but she warned me it wouldn’t get easier. I drummed my fingers. Then my cousin gave me the name of her adoption agency, the agent they had worked with, and a good recommendation for them. “Of course,” she added, “there are always difficulties and I wouldn’t say our agency was perfect, but we didn’t live the horror stories you read about.”

Great. No horror stories. “How much more could a guy ask for?”

Mindy giggled again and told me to call her as much as I needed if I had questions. We told each other the same unintended lies everybody relays in such situations. We would do better at keeping in touch. Then we told the truth. We missed having contact.