Picture this: the first time you ever see your birth mother's face is when she was in a casket at the morgue.
So goes one of the true stories in Jean Strauss's beautiful documentary about middle-aged and older Americans searching for their birthparents called "For the Life of Me".
(She also wrote the fine adoption memoir, Beneath a Tall Tree, shown at right.)
It's heartwrenching and frank, and talks a lot about the toxicity of secrets.
Additionally, it made me wonder how the fact of my adoption will affect my son and his descendents? Anyone want to weigh in on this idea?--how one adoption in the family orchard affects the leaves and fruit that are borne thereafter?
The parting quote:
"For adoptees, the light at the end of the tunnel is illumination, and any school kid can tell you that all living things need light to survive."
Plus, anyone want to fill me in on the protest in Philly on July 21st about adoptee rights to birth certificates?