The Second Letter, Memoir II

 A Mississippi courthouse in rural Alcorn County, July 20, 1957, far from snooping Tennessee eyes, witnessed two people say, “I do…” – five months earlier something happened – life now sentenced to stages of poverty, spousal abuse, and addiction. Twenty-two months earlier the first one was given a simple name, and a last name shielding paternity, then all rights relinquished to a wealthy family. A veteran’s administration attorney and wife finally had a child to raise. Now married, she decided to keep number two. After many years, the adopted one showed up with undisputable proof, not wanting anything because he had everything but his real identity. Only one uncle seemed to know. Those questioned, including my mother, would not reveal a morsal of truth, no one claimed to know any details. Everything changed – I desired to know more.