My Turn
My Turn
I laid as a newborn in a Pittsburgh orphanage abandoned by those meant to love me most and cared for by nuns of the Catholic Charities organization. Officials from a division of the Catholic Charities no longer in operation, worked with my biological parents and my new parents to transfer me to Wheeling, West Virginia.
My new parents (Mom and Dad) coddled me — they held my baptism in the Roman Catholic Church and happily celebrated, posing in fancy photos. From that point, Mom and Dad began raising me and my older brother, who was also adopted. Soon after my arrival I stopped gaining weight; my body was unaccepting to the type of formula chosen for me. My parents fought for me and researched until they found a pediatrician who discovered the best option for my nourishment.
As I got older, according to my mother, I became a reckless, relentless child who challenged authority, dared nature, and opposed anyone who stood before me. Being raised in the late-60s to mid-80s put a thorn in my side as that was an era when entire neighborhoods raised each other’s children, therefore, my parents were usually aware of any havoc I created before my return home.
As a member of the just wait until your father gets home generation, I can tell you it proved true far too many times. I angered my parents, tested and frustrated them, and still they worked hard to afford my parochial and private education in primary school and high school, as well as chauffeured me around the country to chase my dream of one day playing professional baseball.
Through college and my adulthood, Mom and Dad never stopped their role of being parents. This was an important lesson I’ve applied with my own two children. Once a parent, always a parent, and that includes when the report card comes home, after skateboarding accidents, during tough parent-teacher conferences, and even through car accidents that were entirely my fault.
The same is true when it comes to being a son or daughter, and most certainly when your parents need you. As times become trying, you take action and voluntarily help. Go fix the awnings, clean the air conditioning units, and handle the lawn care. Help declutter the house and create a safe environment. Nurture your parents during passing of friends.
Spend time with them, reminisce on times and help them to remember certain details when recollection is difficult. It’s easy to feel defeated when you’re unable to do the things or remember the details you once did. However, when someone who loves you takes the initiative to help, it removes the burdening feeling of asking for help, and when you supply missing information, stories can be completed and memories can remain intact.
It was simply my turn to care for my parents the way they did for me.
