Calie - Autumn - Cindy - Christian - Monica - "B" - Mike
Blackie & Spot
Click on the names in the Left Column to see their Bio's
( I pulled this out of my Journal because it didn't seem appropriate there but it is a sentiment I wanted to save so I am putting it here)
(My comment to a Social Worker who attempted to lecture me on caring for Michael as though his troubles were some how induced by me for not being a doting father)
You know nothing about me, my name is Peter Allen Daggett, I am 59 years old, I retired from Pacific bell after 30 years working my way from Frameman (Main Frame Attendant now-a-days) to Technical Support Manager. I have three grown boys in their 30's and two grandchildren. I have had heart bypass surgery, I enjoy Genealogy and going to the movies, I ride a motorcycle every chance I get.
We have taken in 15 Foster Children over the years, we have adopted seven of them because there were no people hopping from foot to foot to take them in. Our kids have all been deemed un-adoptable by DC&FS they would all have been hospitalized, returned to abusive parents or put in Residential/Custodial Care if we hadn't fought for them and ultimately adopted them.
I am not convinced that they couldn't be better off somewhere else but I think they are doing OK and 'Somewhere Else' never presented itself as an option. We have cared for and loved them the best we could, we have been abused by the system, lectured by doctors, teachers and administrators, snubbed by neighbors and chastised by friends and family for having so many kids but we really feel we had no other moral option. We are fighting for Michael now, like we fought for Calie, Cindy and "B", we will never receive any gratitude from any of them and that is just a given, Mike may even hate us before this is over. We got all the help we could get and made our decisions based on the recommendations of the pro's but we feel we have done the right thing...
Another “Inane Observation”
I am an aspiring genealogist and I am always curious when I meet people whose names don’t match their appearance. I met a young woman who had a German surname but was most definitely not 100% German. If I had to guess I would have guessed she was American Indian… so, being naturally curious (curiosity is another word for nosey), I asked her what nationality she was, . She said “I am half Chinese and” … there was a pause, her hands sort of waved around like she was trying to pull a word out of the air, then she said… “and half white person.”
I have been reflecting on the ramification of that phrase “White Person” and the pause that preceded it. Aside from the fact it was truly none of my business and my nosiness was totally uncalled for, "White Person" makes me think that I, as a member of the White Person tribe, should try to emphasize my heritage to my kids so that they can respond with a little more clarity when asked who/what I am.
I am English; both the parents of both of my parents and their parents and back as far as I can go (about 520 years) were English. The young woman was very clear about her Asian Heritage, and very vague about her White half, I guess. I am making a mountain out of a grain of sand but after all the research/plagiarizing I have done to accumulate my Family Tree I think that it is important to know where you came from. It seems to me that to be able to place yourself in historical context gives you some insight into who you are.
Saying you’re American means a lot of things culturally but is meaningless racially. When you fill out a form and it asks for your Race unfortunately you have to put something other than American. Mike, when asked what race he is says "I am Grey, half White and half Black" (pretty cool, in your face, wanna make something out of it?... sort of Mike thing to say), Calie Who is about half English and half African looks down at her arm and says "I'm brown", Monica is Mexican and something else, Middle Eastern (I think) she says "I'm brown." too… . "B" is Mexican/Indian, Cindy and Christian are at least Half English because of the surnames they were born with, and Autumn is Irish. I have some strong feelings about classifying people by some bureaucratic arbitrary racial criterion… It seems to me that there is more to race than color, and more to culture than Ancestral origin. I am no more English than Edi Amin culturally. Perhaps ethnicity is a better word by implication though not definition. By definition of "Ethnicity" I would be retired American Telephone Man
My kids are, as near as I can tell, African, English, Irish, Mexican, and probably 20 other nationalities too, I will probably never know their ethnic ancestry but they will definitely know as much as I can find out.
What our Kids teach us
(I didn't write this... It was sent to me by Marcy Daggett, I saw on the net where a fella named John Gross claimed to be the author... not substantiated)
When I look at a patch of dandelions, I see a bunch of weeds that are going to take over my yard. My kids see flowers for Mom and blowing white fluff that you can wish on.
When I look at an old drunk and he smiles at me, I see a smelly, dirty person who Probably wants money and I look away. My kids see someone smiling at them and they smile back.
When I hear music I love, I know I can't carry a tune and don't have much rhythm so I sit self-consciously and listen. My kids feel the beat and move to it. They sing out the words. If they don't know them, they make up their own.
When I feel wind on my face, I brace myself against it. I feel it messing up my hair and pulling me back when I walk. My kids close their eyes, spread their arms and fly with it, until they fall to the ground laughing.
When I pray, I say thee and thou and grant me this, give me that. My kids say, "Hi God! Thanks for my toys and my friends. Please keep the bad dreams away tonight. Sorry, I don't want to go to Heaven yet. I would miss my Mommy and Daddy."
When I see a mud puddle I step around it. I see muddy shoes and dirty carpets. My kids sit in it. They see dams to build, rivers to cross and worms to play with.
I wonder if we are given kids to teach or to learn from?
No wonder God loves the little children!!
"Enjoy the little things in life, for one day you may look back and realize they were the big things."
JUST FOR THIS DAY
by Sally Meyer
Just for this morning, I am going to smile when I see your face and laugh when I feel like crying.
Just for this morning, I will let you choose what you want to wear, and smile and say how perfect it is.
Just for this morning, I am going to step over the laundry, and pick you up and take you to the park to play.
Just for this morning, I will leave the dishes in the sink, and let you teach me how to put that puzzle of yours together.
Just for this afternoon, I will unplug the telephone and keep the computer off, and sit with you in the backyard and blow bubbles.
Just for this afternoon, I will not yell once, not even a tiny grumble when you scream and whine for the ice cream truck, and I will buy you one if he comes by.
Just for this afternoon, I won't worry about what you are going to be when you grow up, or second guess every decision I have made where you are concerned.
Just for this afternoon, I will let you help me bake cookies, and I won't stand over you trying to fix them.
Just for this afternoon, I will take us to Mc Donald's and buy us both a Happy Meal so you can have both toys.
Just for this evening, I will hold you in my arms and tell you a story about how you were born and how much I love you.
Just for this evening, I will let you splash in the tub and not get angry.
Just for this evening, I will let you stay up late while we sit on the porch and count all the stars.
Just for this evening, I will snuggle beside you for hours, and miss my favorite TV shows.
Just for this evening when I run my fingers through your hair as you tell me about your day, I will simply be grateful that God has given me the greatest gift ever given.
I will think about the mothers and fathers who are searching for their missing children, the mothers and fathers who are visiting their children's graves instead of their bedrooms, and mothers and fathers who are in hospital rooms watching their children suffer senselessly, and screaming inside they can't handle it anymore.
And when I kiss you goodnight I will hold you a little tighter, a little longer. It is then, that I will thank God for you, and ask him for nothing, except one more day.............
copyright 1999. Sally Meyer