DOES ANYONE OUT THERE CARE?

Bronco visited Grandma and Grandpa Williams in Magdalena for the weekend.

          “Mom, Bronco has family on his father's side that he belongs to.  I don’t have anyone,” I said sadly.

          “What if I write Linda lee’s mother, and see if the two of you can meet? Mom suggested.

          “Really, can you do that?  Do you know where they live?  What if her mother doesn’t want us to meet?  What if Linda doesn’t know about me?” I bombarded Mom with the questions in rapid succession.

          “I’ll send the letter to the last place they were living, and then we’ll just have to wait and see.”

          We waited, but never received a reply.

          “If they didn’t get the letter, it would have been returned,” Mom said.

          I was disappointed!

          One weekend, during the following month, we took a short trip into Arizona.  Outside Holbrook, Mom turned in her seat.

          “Your grandmother lives here.”

          “What grandmother?” I asked, surprised.

          “Lucky’s mother, Mrs. Murphy,” Mom answered, “She and her husband run a restaurant in Holbrook.  Would you like to meet her?”

          I nodded my head yes, and my stomach knotted nervously.  As we parked outside the cafe and got out of the car, I wondered what would happen.  I had often daydreamed of meeting Lucky’s mother, and in my imagination, a loving grandmother was overwhelmed to see me.

          We entered the small, air-conditioned restaurant and sat at a table.  A waitress took our order, and I noticed a dark haired woman staring at us from behind the lunch counter.

          “That’s your grandmother,” Mom whispered.

          “After the waitress took our order, the woman walked over to our table.

          “Hello Mrs. Murphy,” Mom said pleasantly.

          “I thought I recognized you, Wanda.”

          “Mrs. Murphy, this is Deryl my husband, Bronco my son, and Gloria.”

          Mrs. Murphy had been glancing at me, and now her blue eyes never left.  I felt like she was studying me.

          “How old are you now, Gloria?”

          “I’m thirteen.”

          “How is Kenneth?” Mom asked.  (I noticed she didn’t call him, Lucky.)

          “He’s doing just fine.  He’s in California.  He and his dad are in business together out there.”  She turned toward me, “Would you like to see a recent picture of him?”

          I nodded my head and she disappeared through a swinging door into the kitchen area.  When she returned, she handed me a billfold size studio photo.  I stared intently at the man’s profile in the black and white picture.  He was smiling and his black hair waved back from his forehead.  I studied the photo trying to see if there was any resemblance between him and me.

          “Does Kenneth have any more children?” Mom asked.

          “No. You know how Kenneth feels about children,” Mrs. Murphy replied, and from her tone, I new it was negative.

          As we left the cafe, I could still sense Mrs. Murphy’s eyes on me.  I felt empty!  My daydream had not come true, and now I remembered another frequent fantasy.  I would walk up to a dark haired man and say, “I’m Gloria, your daughter.”  His arms would reach out in recognition, as a broad smile of joy spread across his face.  When I walked into his embrace, he would tell me...he had always cared!

          But now, Mrs. Murphy’s voice echoed in my mind, “You know how Kenneth feels about children!”  I remembered Mom’s words long ago when I was ten, “He didn’t care about you or he would have contested the adoption!”

          Evidently Mom had been right...he didn’t care.  Puff...my daydreams vanished! The reality of what I had just heard, from my grandmother, hurt.

           Would I ever meet this mystery man of my life? Didn't he even care?  Did he ever think about me?  I wanted to know the answers to my questions.

But, who could tell me?

Someday I would go to California and find him, I decided.

The Mystery Man...Warren Kenneth Bolding...my biological father

My Grandma Gertrude Louise Storie Bolding Murphy. I would only see her once. She at one time played guitar and sang on the radio.

Grandma Underwood

BELEN

          Belen was north of Socorro.  The larger community sprawled across rugged open territory.

          I had the usual jitters as Mom and I entered the two –story, red brick school building to register me.  For the first time, Deryl and Wanda Gaines were named as my parents on the enrollment card.  During school, I kept my feelings on guard.  I had decided to survive, and that meant hiding behind an emotional wall.

          On the outskirts of Belen, in an older residential area, Deryl and Mom bought a four-bedroom house.  Our family grew again when Grandma Underwood came to live with us.  She said she would only stay until the business opportunity she was waiting for opened up.

          Grandma was four feet, eleven inches tall.  She may have been small, but she was mighty!  She moved with perpetual energy.  When she did sit down, which wasn’t often, she lit a cigarette.  Her hazel eyes sparkled behind glasses, and her long auburn hair was braided on top of her head.  At night, when she brushed her tresses, they hung to her waist.  Once, when I was little, someone asked me where I got my long hair.  I had replied, “from Grandma.”

          Life had not been easy for the little lady.  As a child, she experienced the death of her mother.  As a young woman, she married a Kentuckian, Ernest Underwood.  They moved west, leaving behind her father and only sister in Ohio.  Eight children were born into a tumultuous, difficult marriage.  Grandpa Underwood, who when drunk (it was told) ,took seven men to hold him down, was also unfaithful. Grandma's distrust of men had left her with independence, ingenuity, and toughness.  I soon learned that underneath her smiling exterior was a quick, feisty temperament.  I walked softly around her.

          Grandma’s coming gave Deryl and Mom more time for the stations and each other.  I was with Grandma more than with Mom.  Mom and I were still detaching, and where once I had cared; now I was developing my own independence. I felt very distant from my mother.

. 

Grandma in later years.