I And The Law !! (PART TWO) 「あぜりあ」本八幡・西船橋・津田沼・佐倉
BLOG: # 98 : I And The Law !! (PART TWO)
I still have great memories of the letter from The Honolulu Chief Of Police and the man he was. But this letter also brought back other memories from way back in my childhood past that I hardly talk about with anyone because sometimes I THINK they may be incomplete. Unfinished. There are also times when I find that I am not truly sure about this. Perhaps the writing of this Blog —–# 98—— will at last give me the answer which I myself do seek and have been seeking since learning about this part of my past concerning I And The Law.
It was three very long years before The State Of Hawaii, my future home, and I, would see each other for the first time and it would be four years before THE LETTER came once I was living there.
What I relate now as part of this weekend’s Blog, occurred many long years ago when I was a mere seventeen years old and just a few months away from graduating from High School.
My Mother, deceased since 1967, had not been deceased very long, when one day, my Father, at that time, age, a young 46, brought me upstairs to my parents bedroom. In the bedroom, at the end of the bed was a huge chest. I am sure that all of you must have one because your parents have been saving things in them for you for years for you when you grow up. They were things important to them and therefore, should mean something to those left behind.
My Father opened the big, very large chest and I looked inside. There were all kinds of things in there. To me, most of them did not look all that interesting as my Father slowly began explaining to me about them. After all this time, I hardly can recall what was inside that chest. But there was one thing at that time, that caught my eye, and I held it up, and asked bold as brass: Poppy? What’s this? (Poppy was and still is my childhood name for my Father). My Father looked over at me and saw that I was holding up a very, very, very, small white bracelet with black letters on it. And he said, very casually, Oh! That’s your Baby Bracelet.
My Baby Bracelet! Well, of course, I knew what he meant. I couldn’t believe it. My Baby Bracelet. You know what those are. Those bracelets they put on your wrist when you are born that have your last name on them. Oh. I was so thrilled! My very own Baby Bracelet! WOW! I thought.
Then I stopped. I looked at it. Stared at it. Wondered hard at it. Looked at it more hard while my Father went on explaining about and trying to show me other important things inside the chest. But I was not interested in them. I was only interested in the Baby Bracelet I was holding in my hands. Right then, it was the only thing that mattered.
Suddenly I blurted out: But Poppy! This isn’t MY Baby Bracelet! It has someone else’s last name on it. Not mine! My Father insisted it was mine. But I continued. I said: But my last name is STANLEY and this bracelet has MONTAIGNE written on it. Again my Father said: It’s yours. Then a thought suddenly came to me and I asked softly: Poppy? Am I adopted? Did you and Mommy adopt me? Is that it? Surely this was the answer!
There was a long silence then as no words came out from my Father’s mouth.
Finally my Father assured me that I was their child, fully, and not an adopted one. This answer should have settled the matter but of course, naturally, it did not.
I went on, still hopeful of getting an answer — the answer — I needed to hear.
But Poppy, I said, if the bracelet is mine and I am yours and Mommy’s and I am not adopted, how come MY Baby Bracelet that you have kept all these years has the name MONTAIGNE written on it?
My Father sighed, and closed the chest, knowing that we would not be getting back to it for a long while.
And looking me, he said: Catbird, (which was his childhood nickname for me): Come downstairs. I have something I need to tell you. And bring the bracelet with you.
(PART THREE next week).