My Dog Inky

10:43:00 AM judyo53 0 Comments

Inky was a black cocker spaniel and the nicest, sweetest dog I've ever met. He lived until 14 and he was going downhill. Dad took him to the vet one day and came home without him. My Mom was a basket case and cried her eyes out - first time I ever saw her do that. I don't really remember how old I was and although I loved him, I was old enough to realize he wasn't living a good life so I let him go.

Years later we got a light colored cocker spaniel named Taffy but she bit one of Uncle John's friends (actually a couple of his friends) and I'm assuming they put her down. It was sad because she was good with the family but John would be rough housing with his friends and she would "come to his protection" and bite his enemy. I took her demise harder because she was still youngish and was just trying to protect her owners.

And then there was Pierre, the French poodle. Ugly little black thing and mean! He would bite people with no warning. But he didn't bite any kids as far as I can remember and I think we kept him until he was old.

I think I was already moved out when Mom & Dad got Muffin, the sheltie. She was cute and sweet and unfortunately became obese with Dad's doting love and overfeeding. She used to jump for frisbies until her poor little legs couldn't handle her fat body. The vet kept telling Dad, "You're killing her with kindness." But Dad felt that not feeding her snacks was punishing her and no one could get him to stop. She did live a pretty long life although I can't remember how old she was when she finally died.

Our Uninvited Guest

11:23:00 AM judyo53 0 Comments

While living a wonderful family life in a great little Chicago suburb of Blue Island, our idyllic little world was shattered by an unexpected visitor. My Dad, your Great Grandpa Bud, worked at the post office and left work very early in the morning. His shifts had changed over the years but this was pretty early.

At the time this happened, I shared a bedroom with your Uncle John while Dad worked on my new bedroom upstairs. My parents bedroom was right across the hall on the main floor of the house.

I was around 7 when this happened and John was around 3. It was still early and Mom, John and I were still in bed sleeping.

I heard my Mom yelling "Help! There's a man in the house!" I guess I didn't hear the "Help!" part and hear "there's a man in the house" and figured, "Oh, Grampa (Dan Ganzer) must be over. I got up and walked across the hall to my parent's bedroom and Mom screamed, "Get back in your room and lock the door!" I don't remember doing that but I must have.

Next I remember is walking with her down the hall to the front door and the screen door was closed but the front door was standing open. The police were called and they came over and investigated the entire house.

Here is the story as I got it (or remember getting it). The days used are examples. Dad remembered that he didn't lock the basement door Wednesday night. This man did not come upstairs until Friday morning! We had a big basement with a 2nd kitchen, workshop, family room and full bathroom. A person could easily live down there for a while as long as they were quiet. I might be wrong about those days, it could have been that the door was left unlocked Wednesday night and the guy came up Thursday, but I remember it the first way. Either way, it's scary!

Mom (Great-Grandma Bea or Bernice) told us she was laying in bed and heard something in the hallway. She briefly opened her eyes to see a man's shoes and legs standing in the door. She started moving around in the bed as if she were waking up in the hopes he would be scared away. Then she jumped out of the bed and tried to open an old door off her bedroom that used to go outside but probably hadn't been used in years and was stuck shut. She managed to open a window and that's when I heard the "Help!" scream. Supposedly, a neighbor heard her and said he was calling the police. Sometimes I wonder if it wasn't the neighbor as he seemed to be the only guy around at the time. She never saw his face and no one saw anyone running away, so the culprit was never caught.

And I was never the same. When we would go out of the house upon our return my Dad would have to hold my hand and we'd have to do the police investigation of the entire house, looking in closets, under beds, in attic cubbyholes.

That didn't last forever as time went on, but I had nightmares for at least 30 years after. Very vivid, realistic nightmares of someone breaking into the house, sometimes through a window, some that attacked me with guns or knives. Therapy wasn't popular back then and I never even told my parents about the dreams.

Unfortunately, my Dad built me the most beautiful bedroom upstairs that was big with a private bathroom and a walk-in closet. I believe it was painted lilac and white and I had two twin beds for sleepover guests. My bedroom and our family room were both upstairs. I would go to bed at night but I guess I was always a light sleeper (maybe because of the break-in). I guess I could tell when my parents went back downstairs to bed and then I would end up going downstairs and sleeping on the couch. My Mom finally put a sheet on the couch for me.

They told me even if someone broke into our house again that they wouldn't want to go upstairs because they'd be trapped. They reminded me that the guy that broke into our house walked past the couch on the way out the front door. But I couldn't stay asleep in my beautiful new bedroom. I can't remember how long that lasted.

Growing Up in Blue Island, IL

8:41:00 AM judyo53 0 Comments

I can remember walking to the general store (to me it was a candy store) at a very young age. Candy was a penny a piece back then and they had a big selection. Some items were 2 for 1 cent.

There was a playground I played at and when I was about 10 I met a family that was renting a house across the street. I had a best friend I will never forget and wished I could have found her later in life. Her name was Patty Mangan and she had a brother Ralph and a younger sister Beth. I hung out with her and her family all the time.

In fact, we both moved to different places around the same time. I think she moved somewhere in Chicago and we moved to Oak Lawn. My Mom took me to her house in Chicago a couple of times but then we didn't see each other anymore. I've thought about her and her family over the years. I always liked her brother Ralph - he was cute.

Besides playing in the park and at her house, I believe we all watched the Beatles first performance in the U.S. on a TV show called The Ed Sullivan Show. I think we even put our money together to buy our first Beatles record.

One of my other best friends, a chubby kid that lived just a couple of houses down, was a boy named Ricky Koehler. There was red-headed Shelly and cute Kim who had a neat playhouse in her backyard. There were the older granddaughters of one of our neighbors who lived in Indiana but would come for extended visits and I'd hang out with them. A few good friends lived a bit farther away - Lynn Mueller lived in a big, custom, modern house that I remember much about today. Her Dad worked for a vending company (or owned it) and one time we visited and it was like a dream - boxes and boxes of candy in a huge warehouse. My other friend was Barb and my Mom would drive me to her house.

Winter in Blue Island

IL is a flat state. You wouldn't know that living in Blue Island with it's hills. And that was perfect for winter fun. The teenage boys would build a snowy/icy slide ramp starting at Ricky Koehler's house (he had an older brother, I think Jeff), curving across the sidewalk and going down as far as they could make it across neighbor's front yards.

Every morning they would water and ice it down. The start of the "slide" was a mound of snow that they even carved out a little igloo like space in for the little kids. We'd be helped up to the top (or they might have had a ladder against it - I can't remember) and we'd be on our disk type sled (the round ones) and down we'd go. Sometimes you'd go off the side and have to start over, but most of the rides were all the way to the bottom.

My Dad (your great-grandfather Bud) would take us to Memorial Park. It had a pool for the summer and great snowy hills for sledding. We'd use the round sleds or the regular sleds. Lots of fun!

In the old days when I was a kid, laws were pretty lax. I remember Dad tying our sled to the back of his car and actually driving us slowly through Blue Island streets. He couldn't have gotten away with that in these times!

Many Happy Memories

It was like living the life of a Norman Rockwell painting. The 1950's family - Dad worked, Mom stayed home. Close-knit family life. Friendly neighborhood, 1950's suburban living. A truly idyllic childhood.

Your Uncle John

4:14:00 PM judyo53 0 Comments

Born November 1, 1957

I mentioned before that the rules of The Chicago Foundling Home were two babies per customer. So when I was four years old Mom & Dad (your great-grandparents) adopted your Uncle John. His name was Baby Boy Deiter (not sure how it was spelled) and we got him fresh from the hospital. There I am, holding him on his first day home. Unlike me at 7 months old, he was only a few days.

He had some problems and had marks on his body where he had something done - like needle marks, on his feet (or ankles or somewhere nearby) and I believe his temples, although my memory might be failing me - I was only four.

I was able to choose his outfit that we were going to bring him home in. I remember Mom dressing him (I think on a bed) and to me I thought when people wanted a baby they went to that baby store and picked one up.

The story with Uncle John was that his father was in his 40's (43 maybe) and was married with 5 kids. John's Mom was in her 20's (possibly 26) and was a waitress at a restaurant where John's Dad used to go. They got together and she got pregnant with John and couldn't take care of him on her own so she gave him up for adoption and we got him at the "baby store." After having a girl already it was time to switch it up and get a boy.

I forgot to tell my biological parent's story. Supposedly, my Mom was 18 and my Dad was 19. He was in the army (and a musician in the army band) stationed in Hawaii during the Korean War. He didn't have family or something and came home with my Mom's brother (my biological uncle) during a leave. In that short time he got my Mom pregnant. That's the story I was told and it's pretty risque for the early 1950's.

I think both John and I have done a little searching to find our biological parents, at least our Moms (don't know if our dads even know we exist), but unless each party is searching for the other the only thing you can do is petition the courts. There is no guarantee they will allow you to continue with the search and it costs a lot of money. You are basically paying a private detective that will find the location of your biological parent or their death certificate. I didn't go that far.

That has always left a void in my life. I love my parents and was not interested in replacing them. I didn't even feel the need to have a relationship with my biological mother. I just wanted to see what she looked like, and any half brothers and sisters I might have. None of my kids look like me so I was just curious to see my biological family.

The Chosen Baby

9:22:00 AM judyo53 0 Comments

My parents, Bud & Bernice (your great grandparents) adopted me at the age of 7 months. They wanted a girl. I believe I was about 4 years old when they told me. They gave me a book called "The Chosen Baby" which explains adoption to a child.

Since I was so young when they told me I never thought it was a big deal. I was surprised when a kid told me I was lying when I mentioned that I was adopted. I couldn't understand why he'd think I'd lie about that.

From what I was told at such a young age, I had it in my head that they looked over all the baby girls in the adoption home (Chicago Foundling Home) and said, "We'll take that one." They always talked about me staring at them with my big blue eyes. I was probably in my 30's before I realized that the adoption had been set up since they tried to match the child to the parents as closely as possible (race, religion, nationality). I was not actually chosen from a storeroom of baby girls.  That burst my bubble!  Funny how when something is ingrained into your head as a child you carry it with you for a long time - until the reality lightbulb goes off.

They did not choose to keep my name Paula. It was a choice between Shari (or Sherry) and Judy. You know what they chose. Judy Garland was popular at the time (she is Dorothy in Wizard of Oz), and there are a lot of 1950 Judy's.  You can almost tell the age in a decade of a woman named Judy.

The adoption wasn't finalized until they had me an entire year. They told me that some parents actually returned babies! I have my adoption papers somewhere and will have to find them. My birth certificate shows Bernice & Harold (everyone called him Bud) Reimer as my parents. I believe I was born in Cook County Hospital.

I was told The Chicago Foundling Home had an area were the pregnant women could stay until they had their babies. I'm not sure if that is true.

This was in the early 1950's, it wasn't acceptable to be pregnant without being married. Some young women would move elsewhere so neighbors and others in the family never knew they were with child. Once they had the baby they went home. I wonder what stories they told.

My Mom told me at some point that the foundling home had moved to a different state. Yet when I petitioned the court once to open my files I was told the Chicago Foundling Home was still in Chicago. I called once but only got an answering machine. I never went there in person. Adoption records are still closed in Illinois.

Through the years I really did feel special and chosen. If I had a choice of parents, I would choose them over and over again. I lived a Norman Rockwell picture, 1950's lifestyle. It was about as perfect as could be.

The Family History Starts Here

8:46:00 AM judyo53 0 Comments

I was 7 months old when I was adopted, probably close to the photo here. In fact, this might be my first photo on or near the day I was brought home. That's the living room in our Blue Island home with my Dad Bud, Inky our cocker spaniel, Mom Bernice and me. Look close and you'll see the weird clown on the top left of the chair.

I'm still not quite sure why I was so old as they usually adopt out newborns, like my brother, your Uncle John. I'm wondering if my biological Mom tried keeping me. This is a real missing link for me and I keep trying to trick Mom (Bea) into telling me the truth.  She swears she doesn't know.

My name was Paula Tackitt, and I guess my biological Mom's last name was Tackitt. My Mom & Dad (you don't remember Great Grampa Bud, but my Mom is Great Gramma Bea, or Bernice) got married young and everyone thought GG Bea was pregnant. They got married during one of GG Bud's army leaves (he was in WWII stationed in Germany - supposedly he was a cook). So there were rumors going around.

Turns out they couldn't have kids and they tried to adopt a baby. GG Bud helped raise a baby girl while in Germany during the war and he wanted a daughter because of that. They actually had fostered a little girl but her parents got back together and they lost her. If they hadn't lost her, they wouldn't have been able to adopt me. The policy of the adoption place I was at (called The Chicago Foundling Home), was two per customer. You could adopt two kids and you couldn't already have children.

Back then they tried to match race, nationality and even religion as close as possible. That's what Mom keeps telling me was the reason for my 7 month stay - trying to get the best match - I'm not buying it. My parents, your great grandparents, were both of German descent. One of my great grandmothers came to the U.S. on a boat straight from Germany. A couple of my Mom's cousins spoke both German and English at home. My parents were Lutheran and I found it funny that my Mom was only allowed to date Lutheran boys!

I was told I was German and English and my biological family, probably my Mom, was of Protestant faith. The picture to the right is the first professional set that was done.

Why I Created This Blog

2:38:00 PM judyo53 0 Comments

Well, we got the bad news yesterday about the fact that I have cancer. I created this blog to let my family reminisce or learn about the family tree.

I want to share my life with you here in case you (grandkids, kids, brothers, family) are interested in a little family history. Since I'm adopted it only goes back to me and my adoptive parents and grandparents (who I consider my "real" family).