R149, I have no idea. I cut off all contact with my dad back in 1990, over something so incredible I doubt anyone here would believe it. Subsequent encounters with the extended family on that side have tended to reinforce the estrangement.
Sometime in the middle 90s, I was dining with my brother and a friend at a restaurant midway between where I live and the city where my uncle and aunt resided (some thirty-five miles between us). I was approached by a tall, thin Asian man in his late teens, perhaps early twenties, who addressed me by my name, and told me his name was John. He pointed to the other side of the restaurant, where my uncle, aunt and cousins waved to me. Somewhat reluctantly, I went over and exchanged greetings. 'John,' as it turned out, was my adopted cousin formerly named Vu (pronounced 'Vo') who, last I'd seen him, was tiny, and once looked for all the world like 'Short Round' in 'Temple of Doom' (1984). I would never have recognized him at this point. It was then that I discovered that all of the adoptees had been anglicized.
The exchange was brief and awkward. My aunt said that my dad had told them I was gay, and she wanted to know if the guy seated with me was my boyfriend. (He was not; that would never have been possible, even if he hadn't been straight. Just not that kind of friend.) This was a lot to process in just a few seconds; I was deeply flustered. In the mid-90s, although I had accepted that I was gay, I wasn't out to anyone besides my brother and the friend I was with - and I certainly hadn't made such an admission to my dad. She asked me if I was aware that homosexuality was against God's will. Avoiding responding to this statement, I kept the rest of the tense exchange brief, and somewhat curt, and went back to my table. That was the last time I had contact with them.
In 1998, when my mom died, I received a phone call out of the blue from a different aunt in Oklahoma, married to another of my dad's brothers, the Southern Baptist preacher. My mom's obituary had run in the newspaper, you see, and this aunt's sister had seen it and notified her. My uncle then called the listed funeral home, and under the pretense of being the family minister, obtained my telephone number. And so here she was. She too had several questions, along with some statements intended to guilt me.* "Are you happy?" I told her that, apart from my mom's recent death, that yes, I was reasonably happy. "Do you have a boyfriend?" Yes, there's someone, I told her. "Which one of you is the wife?" she asked. I froze, appalled, debating what my reaction should be. I held the receiver somewhat away from my head, staring at it, and in a snap decision, hung it up.
She rang back immediately. I picked up and told her to lose my telephone number and never to call me again. None of them ever have since, and I'm fine with that.
* "Your grandmother misses you," she told me. Grandma [name redacted] was in her nineties, and no longer able to live on her own. She then resided with her son, the preacher and his wife. "She asks about you all the time, and we just don't know what to tell her about you." This was the passive-aggressive segue into the questions.
[quote]PoisonedDragon is just here to argue. That’s his purpose in life, apparently.
You're just bitter, Xavier. Have a cup of hot tea and relax.