Looking for dad
When I was young, I realized I must have a real father, in addition to my abusive parents. I gathered from overheard conversations there was no record of my birth, which made me wonder whether Mary was my real mother. I dreamt of my daddy charging in when I was being abused and rescuing me. He never did, but thinking about him got me through the bad times. As I became older, I noticed we didn't have any cousins, uncles and aunts like normal families.
My mother got me into school without a birth certificate by working in the registration office. That stopped working at the end of eighth grade, when I was 13. The solution was moving to another state and keeping me out of school. My stepfather required full time care for Alzheimer's; I became his nurse.
I got married the day after I turned 18, using church and school records for identification. My new husband kept insisting my mother produce a birth certificate, causing her to lead us on a fruitless drive to three state capitals.
Life went on. I gave birth to three daughters and one son.
When I was 35, my divorce lawyer found my birth certificate by searching on my mother's various names. Then I understood why my previous searches had been unsuccessful – my name wasn't Robin Heath, as I thought all my life, it was Robin Quackenbush.
I began searching for my real father, Robert Quackenbush. Using people finder databases, I found and contacted 37 men with his name and age. I also posted queries on genealogical forums.
I didn't know he had changed his name when I was six years old, to Robert Wagner. On the night before Easter 2010, my dad found one of my forum postings by Googling his old name, realized we were a likely match and sent me an email. He requested I ask my mother whether she recognized two place names, Silver Lake and Echo Park, the L.A. neighborhoods where they had lived. She recognized them right away.
My father is now retired in Florida. I hope to move near him so we can get to know each other and catch up on the 44 years we missed. Two of my children are adults. My four youngest deserve the opportunity to know their grandfather, and I want a chance to know a loving father.
Robin Quackenbush
troublex6@yahoo.com
My mother got me into school without a birth certificate by working in the registration office. That stopped working at the end of eighth grade, when I was 13. The solution was moving to another state and keeping me out of school. My stepfather required full time care for Alzheimer's; I became his nurse.
I got married the day after I turned 18, using church and school records for identification. My new husband kept insisting my mother produce a birth certificate, causing her to lead us on a fruitless drive to three state capitals.
Life went on. I gave birth to three daughters and one son.
When I was 35, my divorce lawyer found my birth certificate by searching on my mother's various names. Then I understood why my previous searches had been unsuccessful – my name wasn't Robin Heath, as I thought all my life, it was Robin Quackenbush.
I began searching for my real father, Robert Quackenbush. Using people finder databases, I found and contacted 37 men with his name and age. I also posted queries on genealogical forums.
I didn't know he had changed his name when I was six years old, to Robert Wagner. On the night before Easter 2010, my dad found one of my forum postings by Googling his old name, realized we were a likely match and sent me an email. He requested I ask my mother whether she recognized two place names, Silver Lake and Echo Park, the L.A. neighborhoods where they had lived. She recognized them right away.
My father is now retired in Florida. I hope to move near him so we can get to know each other and catch up on the 44 years we missed. Two of my children are adults. My four youngest deserve the opportunity to know their grandfather, and I want a chance to know a loving father.
Robin Quackenbush
troublex6@yahoo.com
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