3rd From Sol

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Tag Archives: boys

Familius Interruptus: Lessons of a DNA Shocker

29 Sunday Jan 2017

Posted by Paul Kiser in Aging, Branding, Communication, Ethics, genealogy, Generational, Health, History, Honor, Internet, Lessons of Life, parenting, Politics, Privacy, Relationships, Respect, Science, Technology, Women

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Tags

Ancestry.com, Barrick, bastard, birth certificate, Birthdays, boys, Colorado, deception, Depue, DNA, DNA testing, Family, family histoy, father, genealogy, Kiser, lying, mother, Warner

My Dad, and my Mother
My Dad, and my Mother
The Kiser Family in 1957
The Kiser Family in 1957

Last week I became one of ‘those’ people. 

Researching genealogy has relied on family stories, written diaries, and documents. Now it has the truth. DNA. DNA doesn’t lie, it just gives you the facts. Unbiased, unwavering, insensitive facts.

People talk about the dangers of using DNA to research genealogy. DNA might reveal that the stories, diaries, and documents sometimes lie. Sometimes, even a birth certificate lies because the people who created it were there for the birth, not the conception.

On 23 January 2017, I became one of those people who found out that the DNA test disproved everything I had been led to believe about who I was, and to what family I belonged. I found out that the man who raised me as his son, was not my father.

_dsc0018-2Six decades ago, my mother became pregnant with a man known to her and our family. I was born in December of that year. I looked enough like my mother, that it probably wasn’t too difficult to sell the idea that I was the legitimate child of my father. In addition, the man we believe to be my father was tragically killed in an accident when I was five, so I didn’t really have a chance to interact with him as I grew up.

If it were not for the DNA test, I would have never known…until one of my children took a DNA test. Truth can be relentless.

What Do You Say to the Half-Son?
The news was unreal, then surreal, then it got strange. There is no way to describe how it feels to have a fundamental truth about yourself suddenly proven wrong. The displacement of my reality was not a sudden shock, but a creeping wave of unrest and confusion.

Some people might have been hesitant to share this information with others. Those people hate me. I’m not a private or secretive person, and after I realized that I had lived a lie for almost sixty years, I was determined to end the secret as quickly as possible.

Most of the immediate family members of both families have passed away, so other than ‘honor’ of both families, and the memories of the people involved, this was a matter that impacted me and my children. While trying to be sensitive to both families, I posted the news on Facebook.

Mostly, the reaction was stunned silence. I found out later that many people had read the post, but what do you say to someone in my position? I’m willing to bet even Hallmark doesn’t have a card for this situation.

The reaction was typically positive and supportive. There was a suggestion that the DNA test might be wrong, and a couple of people began suggesting that the affair might not have been consensual. I gave a terse response to one of those comments and deleted it.

Who Knew?
One of the first questions that occurred to me was, “Who knew, and when did they know it.” It is somewhat of a pointless exercise because most people have passed on, and those still alive who may have known are not likely to implicate themselves in the deception.

I am confident my mother knew, or strongly suspected I was not her husband’s child. Several reactions and responses to questions about my family history seemed indicate she was deliberately vague and at times, almost disruptive to my research.

Among the most obvious oddities was her insistence that my fraternal grandfather was half to three quarters Native American. This was almost always followed by a reference that my coloring, (brown hair, brown eyes, and dark complexion) was Native American. The last time she made this reference, my brother had already proven that as far back to 1803, and beyond there was no Native American blood in the Kiser or Warner family.

The Brutality of Deception
Deception is an insidious malady. The bigger the deception, the more it infects a person’s sense of well being. I can’t imagine what my mother experienced during a lifetime of keeping this deception going, especially when the man who was most likely my real father died. His sudden death, mixed with the probability he was my father, could not have created a more chaotic mix of emotions for my mother.

As I became an adult I tried to analyze my mother and father’s relationship. It was clear that they were not in a positive emotional relationship. To me it felt more like they were performing the expected roles, but not with any emotional connection. It’s possible that was their behavior around me, but I suspect it was noticed by others.

My interactions with my mother were typically civil, but I would never have considered them warm. I don’t think she treated my brothers any different. That was who she was as a mother.

However, now I have to wonder if she saw me as the child that added complications in her life. Did my presence create a psychological conflict within her? Did she fear that other people might have known and were talking behind her back?

Moving Forward
I can’t imagine what would have happened if the truth would have come out when I was a child, and perhaps it was best for everyone that it didn’t come out, but the collateral damage of maintaining a deception likely affected my mother’s relationships with my father, with the family, and with me. I am disturbed that she didn’t respect me enough to tell me at some point. To deny me the truth was unfair to me and my children.

The lesson of this is that deception can be as destructive as the truth. My mother may have believed she escaped the consequences of her situation by lying and maintaining that lie, but I don’t believe she did. I think she created a hole in her life, and now a lot of people are falling in that hole. 

But now it is time to move forward. It is strange, but my last name feels like I am lying every time I say it. I feel I have to say, “My name is Paul Kiser, but actually I’m not a Kiser by blood.” I don’t think I’ll do that when I go through immigration next week, but still, the impulse is there.

Fortunately, my children, and the children of the other family are intrigued by the new family history. As offsetting as this is in the old world of hiding shame and embarrassment, the new world doesn’t end when someone’s decades old indiscretions come to light.

And this is where the story begins. 

Things I didn’t know about being a Father of a four-year-old Boy

28 Tuesday Sep 2010

Posted by Paul Kiser in Branding, Lessons of Life, parenting, Passionate People, Pride, Random, Relationships, Respect, Rotary

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

behavior, Blogging, Blogs, boys, Child Development, child-rearing, children, Fatherhood, Parent Development, parenting, Public Image, Public Relations, Rotary, Young boys

by Paul Kiser
USA PDT  [Twitter: ] [Facebook] [LinkedIn] [Skype:kiserrotary or 775.624.5679]

Paul Kiser

I am a Father three times over, but my first two were girls, which were relatively simple to raise and well-behaved…at least that is what I choose to remember. But the young boys I have known in my life are anything but well-behaved and I was nervous about being the Father of a boy. My son will turn five in a couple of weeks and I have realized that my nervousness was justified.  Here are a few of the things I didn’t expect about being a Father to a 4 year-old boy:

  • I didn’t know I would have to justify which route I took home from Starbucks. When the little guy in the back seat says, “Dad, why do you go home this way?,” you have to either play the ‘I’m-the-adult-and-that’s-why’ card, or you have to try to explain the subtleties of traffic, time of day, and the desire to travel on surface streets with the sunroof open. Wise or not, I usually try to explain things, because I’m a teacher at my core … but I’m rethinking that approach.

    Why IS the sky blue?

  • I didn’t know I would have to answer questions that force me to defend the stupidity of our language, like, “How come we say the alarm is going off, when it is on?” (i.e.; making noise). It’s a great question. Anyone want to field that one?
  • I didn’t know that going to the bathroom is a wait-until-you-only-have-seconds-before-disaster event and under no circumstances is possible upon suggestion by a parent.
  • I didn’t know little boys really did ask, “Why is the sky blue?” and expect an answer that they can understand. Have you ever tried to be the first person to explain the concept of a planet, the sun, photons, the atmosphere, and light absorption to someone? It is worse if someone else is present because it is like making lasagna, everyone has a better way of doing it.

    Alexander with of his cousin

  • I didn’t know that a four-year-old boy could flirt … and he’s really good at it … when the girl is at least three times his age.
  • I didn’t know how well a boy could manipulate …uhm, his Mom. This one happened today. “Mom, could I have another treat…because you love me?” Fortunately, I’m immune to such ploys!
  • I didn’t know a boy could have such joy over catching grasshoppers and bugs. It seems a cliché about a boy and bugs, but the desire to catch and detain anything smaller than him is hardwired in his behavior.
  • I didn’t know I would become aware of every child around me even when my son is not there. Why should I care? These other kids have parents keeping watch on them, but when I see a child about to do something hazardous the urge to usurp the other parent’s authority is sometimes overwhelming.

    Mowing the lawn is a team effort

  • I didn’t know I would have to wait to mow the lawn until he would be there to ‘help’ me. This was a recent quote, “Dad, I’m glad you waited until I got home to mow the lawn because I would be really angry with you if you had done it when I’m not here.” I have my orders.
  • I didn’t know that I could be attacked and beaten on with such zeal. I’m really hoping he learns to pull his punches before he gets too strong.
  • I didn’t know that a boy could change my attitude … about being the Father of a boy. Still, if you’re about to be a Father of a boy, we need to talk.
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Positive Harm to Our Son Doesn’t Feel Okay

03 Saturday Apr 2010

Posted by Paul Kiser in About Reno, Lessons of Life, parenting, Random

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

adenoids, boys, hospitals, parenting, pediatrics, Renown, surgery, tonsillectomy, tonsillitis, Tonsils

Alexander prepares for 'play' surgery

On Monday we will get up early and take our four and a half  year-old boy, Alexander, to Renown Hospital in Reno.  He is basically healthy…that is when he doesn’t stick a plastic bead up his nose,

See Blog Post

but he snores and is awaken at night because his tonsils have grown too large and block his airway when he sleeps.  He also has a persistent cough at night that comes and goes.   We are confident this is absolutely necessary as his Dentist (Dr. Stoker), his Family Practitioner (Dr. McCarthy), and two Ear, Nose and Throat (ENT) Specialist have all agreed:  Tonsils Must Go.

Play Surgery to Prep for the Real Surgery

Still, it is getting harder to shrug off that this surgery is going to hurt him and there are always risks and complications that can’t be anticipated.  Parents may not be required to take the Hippocratic Oath (First, Do No Harm), but even so, it’s instinct for most of us, and when we turn Alexander over to Dr. Jenny Van Duyne on Monday morning we will be asking her to hurt our son.  Yes, in the long run he will be better off, but that doesn’t change the fact that when he comes back from surgery he will be injured.

Our Play Operating Room

Ironically, I was pushing for us to have him checked out and to have this surgery done.  I had my tonsils out when I was around six and I was eating crackers the next day.  My older brother Mike had his done around the same time and as a teenager he had a much harder time recovering from the surgery.  Of course, that was back in the days of rusty, old surgery instruments when doctors sharpened knives with a leather strap…okay, it wasn’t that bad, but it  was almost 50 years ago.

Post Play Surgery Recovery Room

It doesn’t seem that the surgery has changed that much and the recovery time is one to two weeks, so this is not an overnight hurt that will be better the next day.  We also know he gets worried and scared in unfamiliar situations, so we took him for a tour of the Operating Room last week and Nurse Toni did a great job of reassuring him.  He’s also watched a DVD over and over that was produced to help children overcome their fears of this surgery.  Finally, we’ve been practicing the before, during, and after surgery with me as the doctor (complete with poofy shower cap) and him as the really good patient.  So far, so good, but Monday morning will be the final exam for all of us.

I was thinking that this was going to be harder on Mom than Dad, and in the end I will likely push my fears aside for Alexander and Mom, but it still feels odd….I don’t know, maybe it’s just the poofy shower cap.

Other Paul Kiser Blogs

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A Better Parent..Not Perfect

29 Monday Mar 2010

Posted by Paul Kiser in Lessons of Life, Random

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

bead up the nose, boys, children, Growing pains, parenting

I’m a better parent…not perfect…just better.

Alexander and his plastic bead

Yesterday our son, Alexander, was supposed to be resting.  Resting is a new thing because at 4 1/2 years old he is not always able to take a nap.  When his Mom went in to check on him he was whimpering and then she saw his face covered in blood.  She called me and by the time I got there he was crying.  She asked me to get him down from his bunk bed (yes, at four he wanted to move to a big boy bed, and it had to be a bunk bed.)  I did and after several, “What happened?!?” questions, we learned that he had stuck a plastic bead up his nose.

Now if I were a young parent my next statement would be something along the lines of:

“What the Hell were you thinking!”

But I didn’t.  Instead I searched the bed to see if possibly, and mercifully, the bead was not up in his nostril, but rather was just on the bed somewhere.  After a thorough search we learned it was nowhere to be found.  The realization began to sink in that a plastic bead that he had found outside that day…after laying in the dirt for decades…was up in his sinus.  As a young parent my instinct would be off to the ER, but rather we decided to wait.  By this time he had calmed down, the bleeding had stopped, and his Mom and I decided that this was no longer an emergency.

The Bead of Shame

At this point we began to explain to him that when things like this happen he needs to call for us rather than try to fix the problem himself…a good parent thing to say, but to a 4 1/2 year-old it was like explaining the real definition of Socialism to a member of the Tea Party.  Still, it was a better parent thing to say than sentences that began with, “Don’t you ever…”

This morning we were able to see it with the help of a..a..a nose-looker-in-thing and made a couple of attempts to suck it out with a…a…a nose-sucker-thing..I don’t know what they’re called…I’m male remember.  After no success in extracting the plastic bead we called his Ear, Nose, and Throat doctor, who, coincidently will be removing his tonsils next week.  They set up an appointment for tomorrow.  We were resigned to have to sheepishly go into the doctor’s office and try to explain why a little boy would be allowed to have a plastic bead in his possession.

Happy boy, happier parents

However, this afternoon he was ‘sniffling’ and we told him to blow his nose, lamely hoping that bead would come out and this would become a good story to tell his girlfriend when he was sixteen, when behold, the bead came out!

We are trying not to think about all the bacteria on the bead when it went up his nose, but the fact that it came out was the best news that we’ve had in a long time.  As for any four-year old girls out there who may be dating my son in twelve years, be forewarned, you’ll be hearing about the bead-up-the-nose story.

I said I was a better parent…not perfect.

Other Pages of This Blog

  • About Paul Kiser
  • Common Core: Are You a Good Switch or a Bad Switch?
  • Familius Interruptus: Lessons of a DNA Shocker
  • Moffat County, Colorado: The Story of Two Families
  • Rules on Comments
  • Six Things The United States Must Do
  • Why We Are Here: A 65-Year Historical Perspective of the United States

Paul’s Recent Blogs

  • Dysfunctional Social Identity & Its Impact on Society
  • Road Less Traveled: How Craig, CO Was Orphaned
  • GOP Political Syndicate Seizes CO School District
  • DNA Shock +5 Years: What I Know & Lessons Learned
  • Solstices and Sunshine In North America
  • Blindsided: End of U.S. Solar Observation Capabilities?
  • Inspiration4: A Waste of Space Exploration

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