A lifeline love letter
The most wonderful part of my job is the connection with you.
Through all the stories we present, all the pictures, what is the real kick is when someone gets it, when someone knows that what we are doing is simply recording the daily diary of life.
The lives and deaths, sports winners and losers, children�s words of wisdom, political hacks, meetings and announcements of church bazaars . . . all of these things are important to our hometowns.
It�s what we do.
I get phone calls. Sometimes, it�s about advertising or delivery of newspapers but I listen and direct them to the proper folks. We publish six newspapers from this newsstand, the Pilot and the ones I call the Five Heartbeats, the geographically specific weeklies dedicated to Starke County and the towns of Bremen, Culver, Bourbon and Nappanee and Wakarusa.
All have different stories, different identities. All are shaped by you.
I also get letters all the time. Most of them are nice.
Really. I get the other kind as well.
Some of the letters � a proportionately larger number each month � are electronic mail. We do read them all. And we respond if it is appropriate.
Some of them are hilarious. One guy has announced his intention to run for governor next year. There is no gubernatorial race next year, so he is ahead of the pack there.
Then I got the letter I want to tell you about today.
It is one of those you read, then carry around inside for a while, then read again.
I�ve decided you might want to hear about it, so here goes:
In 1964, a single mom in Fulton County found herself with six kids and a seventh on the way.
Her husband had just walked out. She had no money and no way to support the kids. She put them up for adoption, all but the one still to come.
It was the best decision she could make at the time. The newborn, Allen, stayed with her. She remarried and together they raised Allen. Her first husband died.
Through the years, one by one, except for one, they all found her again.
The missing one was adopted in Culver and lived in Plymouth for awhile.
Her granddaughter, Jessica, has spent about 10 years trying to find this missing aunt, the youngest sister, to complete the family�s circle of life. The supposition is either the adopted child was not told she was adopted or was told so little she has not been able to bridge the informational gap.
Jessica has done document searches, used the Internet tricks, paid for services to hunt. �My mom thinks I�m crazy,� she said. �No one has heard from her sister in 40 years. So why should I be successful?�
Determination at reconnecting a loveline might be an answer.
When grandmother died, in 1990, the family Bible was passed on to Jessica. Leafing through it, out fell a scrap of paper in her grandmother�s handwriting. There are those of us who believe in these kinds of psychic connections. The one still searching had been given a clue in the mother�s handwriting: Frances May Wolf, the birth name.
The family has referred to the missing �Aunt Frances� ever since.
�My grandmother's handwriting is not very clear so I am not sure which name it is: Frances May Dumple or Dumphey is what it looks like, as for the adopted name,� said Jessica.
�My aunt was born on July 22, 1954, in Culver, to Joseph Earl and Hazel Louis Wolf. Both are deceased. Frances has two sisters and four brothers (one brother is deceased). Frances was adopted in June of 1964.
� I am sorry if my letter upsets her family but they need to look at it from our side of the fence. We have not seen Frances in 40 years. My mom and her other siblings wish to meet with her again. Her nieces and nephews have never met her but would like to.
�Mr. Siroky, your paper is my last hope of finding my lost aunt. I have had contact with all of my mom's siblings except my aunt Frances and I would very much like to meet her.�
So here�s where we come in. Family lore has it that Frances May was adopted by a doctor and his wife. They lived in Culver, then Plymouth. She would be 48.
She has a whole set of siblings anxious to give her a hug.
�I was reading online and I saw your newspaper and I read it. You say for us to tell you what we want to see in the newspaper,� said Jessica. �My family wants to see this story and wants some other reader to read it and help us find Aunt Frances.�
This is not a scam. I will give you no name or number to contact Jessica, but, if you call or contact me, I will relay messages.
�I can tell them things only a real family would know,� said Jessica.
�I can tell her where her mother is buried, where her brothers and sisters live, even where her father is buried.�
Sometimes you get letters that make you laugh. Sometimes they make you wonder. Sometimes they make you cry.
And, sometimes, you feel like maybe you can help make a difference.
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