Brenda North-Your Missing Daughter - Letters to an Unknown Father

I hope this letter finds you well and happy. How are you? I am doing great! I just finished the fifth grade and I made all E’s. That means excellent, in case you didn’t know. I am doing great at home too, with my mother, granny, and several aunts and cousins. Sometimes there are ten people in this house altogether. You can imagine it gets crowded sometimes. Although I’m an only child, at least my mother’s only child, I don’t feel like one. My cousin Rex lives here. He’s an only child too. Hey, what is it with you absent daddys? Did I spell that correctly? Maybe it’s daddies. My Granny’s two daughters, my aunts, who live here too and sometimes her other two daughters leave their husbands and come live with us too, with their children. Ugh! I hate when that happens. I know my Grampy is glad he’s already up in heaven when all his children are at home. Anyway, back to you and me.

My Mamma says I look like you. That may not be so good. What do you look like? Do you have long legs and big feet? And a big nose? My teeth are good and my eyes, but I wonder what I’ll look like when I get to be 12. If I keep getting tall, I’ll be the tallest person in school. That won’t be good. If my nose and feet get any bigger, that really won’t be good. That will be Bad! My eyes are dark brown but lighter than my Mamma’s so I guess your eyes are dark brown too. What about your ears? Are they big or little? You know little ears means that you’re stingy. I’m not stingy so mine must be the right size. What do your hands look like? My two index fingers, you know the ones next to your thumb, are a little curved. That means you could be very smart or crazy. Are you smart or crazy? My best friend says there’s a thin line between smart and crazy. She tells me I’m on that line. What about how you think? Do you like people, dogs, cats, pigs (smile)? I like some people and little dogs or puppies and kittens. I don’t like farm animals. I don’t like mean people. Some people scare me, like Mrs. Whiz at school. She yells.

Daddy, do you know where Australia is? I hope to go there some day. I want to travel all over the world and see and eat new things. I have only been to Dickson so far. That’s about an hour’s drive from here. I also want to be a model and sing and draw. What do you do? Can you draw? I can draw my own paper dolls because sometimes Mamma can’t afford to buy me any. But mine are pretty good.

Father, that feels funny calling you Father. Anyway, do you believe in God? Do you ever talk to God? I think I believe in Him. I’m going to join the church. That’s what you do when you believe in God. Anyway, that’s what I believe.

Whatever; since I don’t know you, I can’t really call you my Daddy or my Father. But my Mamma taught me to respect adults, so I won’t call you Whatever. What do you think about me? What do you call me, or do you call me anything? My Mamma won’t talk about you so I can’t imagine you so good. I look at myself in the mirror to try to imagine what you look like. I tell myself you are tall and good looking. But what are you on the inside?

P.S. My 11^th birthday is coming up so I guess I will write my daddy letter. I plan to send one every year until I hear from you. I hope I’m not 30.

I have grown another inch, all in my legs, or so my Mamma says. I like to run but in spite of my long legs, I’m not very fast. I don’t like basketball which everybody thinks I should like and should play. I do like baseball, or softball is what we play. I’m pretty good at that and I climb trees and walk picket fences very well. I love to climb our apple or black walnut tree and sit up high and look at the sky. I also like cloud art. Do you know what that is? It’s looking at the clouds and seeing what things you can see, like dogs and birds or peace signs. I think I’ve seen all those. Anyway so much about me. What are you doing? What is your job? When I have to fill out forms at school in the section where they ask about fathers, I usually say you’re a doctor or lawyer. Since I don’t put an address, they can’t check to see if I’m telling the truth. They never call my Mamma. They must know I don’t really know. But I can imagine all I want.

I imagine that you’re a doctor in New York City working at a large hospital, doing important surgery. I imagine that you save people every day and everybody loves you. When I imagine that you’re a lawyer, I think that you are as good as Lawyer Longfellow. He’s a civil rights lawyer trying to get rights for Black people. He’s the best. My Granny knows him. She has had to get him before. He told Granny she’s a fighter. Granny just says she believes in “right.” Sometimes I imagine that you’re a brick layer like my Grampy was before he died. He was good; good at what he did. Everybody said so. But I don’t put that on the form. I want the school to think my daddy is important; although they probably know I don’t have one.

Anyway, what are you? What do you do all day? Are you proud of what you do? Is it something good? I hope you’re not a thief, thug, and high jacker as Granny calls some of my aunt’s boyfriends. She says they’re just no good and not good enough for her. I guess that’s why they don’t last more than a few weeks. After Granny gets through with her “come to Jesus” talk, as she calls them, they soon stop coming by. Is that what happened to you? I know Granny can be hard but she’s really a very lovely person (ha, ha, ha). No really she is. She just has standards, as she says.

Anyway, I would love to know you. I want to see if what Mamma says is true; that I look just like you. Even though Mamma doesn’t want to talk about you or tell anything about you, except that I look just like you, I don’t think she hates you. Cause if she hated you, she would hate me because I look just like you. And she loves me. She tells me every night before I go to bed that she loves me. I love her too. Really, she’s all I got.

So this letter is from your missing 11-year-old daughter who wants to know you. Who wants you to answer her letters. So, “man up” as my cousin Bobo (that’s his nick name) says. Be a man, whatever that means. Write To Me!!!

Well I’m in the seventh grade now. I’m 12, practically grown. I’m still hoping to hear from you some day.

I’ve been writing to you since I was 10. Really, younger than that. I just couldn’t spell well enough to put it together. I wrote in my mind. If I don’t hear from you this year, I’m going to stop writing. Okay, maybe not.

I’m in the 7^th grade and I’m a cheerleader. A cheerleader! I can’t scream real loud but I can turn flips really well, so I guess that’s why I made it. I’m also in the dance group at school. We do jazz, tap and social dance. I really like it. My gym teacher is the dance and cheer squad advisor. She’s very pretty. Almost as pretty as my Mamma. If I could stop growing and my feet stop growing I could be as pretty as my Mamma. People say I look just like my Mamma but I’m taller than her and my feet are bigger. Ugh!

Did I ever ask you if you have big feet? How tall are you? I’m the tallest girl in the 7^th grade. I hate being so tall. Some boys tease me and call me tree or slim. I try to ignore them but it’s hard. Mamma tells me to be glad that I’m tall and to stand up straight, which I hate to do. Anyway enough about my height.

The 7^th grade is the bomb. That’s junior high school you know. We get to exchange all our classes and we get to choose a few courses as electives. Of course everybody has to take English, Math, History and a science class but I chose chorus as my elective. I love to sing and I can play the piano, a little. I play mostly by ear. If I practice enough, I can usually pick out a song. I’m also beginning to sew pretty well. Of course Mamma is teaching me that, along with Mrs. Earline in Home Economics. You know my Mamma can sew, don’t you. She makes a lot of my clothes. I’m one of the best dressed girls because of it. What do you know about my Mamma? Did you, do you care anything about her, or me? That may be too heavy a question. So let me ask, how long have you known my Mamma?

I’d like to know something about you. Like, what’s your favorite color, your favorite meal, and your favorite TV show? My favorite color, right now, is blue, aquamarine. That’s also the name of my birthstone, in case you didn’t know. My favorite meal is fried chicken. I guess that’s because we have it practically every Sunday. I also love hotdogs and hamburgers but Mamma won’t let me eat too many of them. My favorite desert is chocolate milkshake. I like scary shows so I like Dark Shadows on TV. I hope I’m not boring you with all this information about myself but you’re not here in person to get to know, soooo. Anyway, maybe you don’t write because you’re in the army and you’re in a foreign country.

I really am grown now. I’m 18. I have graduated from high school, the great Pearl Senior High and I’m going to college this fall, to MTSU. I plan to study Sociology, maybe Anthropology. Also Psychology. I love learning about other cultures and peoples. I really wanted to be a model and move to Atlanta or Los Angeles to go to modeling school but my Granny told me I’d better learn something that would put food on my table. I think she just didn’t want me to move far from home. MTSU is in Murfreesboro, which is about 30 miles from Nashville. We also have a lot of relatives there: great uncles and aunts, and a zillion cousins. So off to Murfreesboro I go. I am still sad about my Mamma. I feel all alone in the world. Granny is good and has always been there for me but it’s nothing like having your Mamma. My Grampy, Mamma’s daddy, died when I was two so I have never really known a father. But my Uncle Raymond and Uncle Archibald, Granny’s brothers in Murfreesboro, come around a few times a year and I always spent two weeks in Murfreesboro when I was growing up. I would stay a few days with Uncle Archibald and Aunt Shugg, a few days with Uncle Raymond and Aunt May but most of my time was spent with my cousin Joe and her family because she has children close to my age. And she’s the best cook in the world. So going to Murfreesboro wasn’t be so bad.

What did you do growing up? Do you have sisters and brothers or cousins? Where do you live? Did you finish college? My Mamma didn’t because she dropped out to have me. That’s why she always told me that I was going to college and would finish. I promised her that I would. What would you want your missing daughter to know about you? Or do you not want her to know anything about you, the way it really is?

Sometimes, I’m very angry with you because I figure that you care nothing about me but underneath I really do love you. I’m just, what? Sad, lonely? I can’t name all my feelings. Maybe I’ll understand me better, and you, after I take some psychology classes.

Well this 18-year-old is ready to face life. I’m still shy and introverted but I hope I will make it in college at MTSU. Do you have any words of wisdom?

My life up till now, since Mamma died, has been relatively quiet and uneventful. I was asked to run for class queen to be a part of the Miss Pearl High Court but I didn’t want to. My English teacher wanted to sponsor me in the AKA debutant ball but I didn’t want to. I didn’t have a mother and father to walk me in and father to dance with me. Sometimes I’m real embarrassed about being illegitimate. I’ve been called worse, a b_ _ _ _ _ _. I had a ninth grade teacher who that told me I would end up pregnant, out of wedlock. She didn’t say “like your mother” but her body language and face did. I think she knew my mother and didn’t like her. Because of her words to me I was determined that that wouldn’t happen. So I’m off to college. I may write and tell you what it’s like. Although I doubt if you’ll answer me.

I’m a junior in college and I’m getting married. I’m NOT pregnant but I don’t want to keep having sex outside of marriage, so I convinced my boyfriend that we should do the right thing. We were just a few months from being 21, legally grown, that is, old enough for marriage. My Granny signed for me and his Mamma signed for him. I think they both wanted to avoid any out- of- wedlock births. His older brothers, three of them, all had to get married because the girl was pregnant. I don’t know what I’m doing but I’m excited. I really love him. I don’t plan on quitting school. Neither does he. We will both get part-time jobs and continue in school.

What can I say? My husband to be is really smart. I’m smart too but he’s close to genius level. He and I were in the same statistics class and he attended the first session, took his mid-term and final and made an A. I went to class every day and couldn’t do better than a C. He’s a great talker. He can talk to anybody. Most of the professors like him and he has lunch with his psychology professor all the time. My Mamma would really like him because he treats me good. Would you? What do you think makes a good man, a good husband? Do you have any idea? Probably not.

This is my one-year anniversary. I didn’t think we would make a year because my husband turned out to be very selfish but I’m trying. I graduated in May with a BS in Sociology. I’m also three months pregnant. I’m scared but looking forward to having my baby. I wish I knew something about my missing side of the family. What am I going to tell my child about her grandparents? My Mamma is dead and my father is ______________.

Well, I’m divorced; have been for two years. It’s for the best. My husband is a lot like you. He told me he didn’t want to be a husband and father anymore. Then he told me I would be okay because I was a much stronger woman that he was a man. Can you believe that! Of course you can.

They say 40 is over the hill and life starts going down- hill after 40. But I’m excited about being 40. I feel that my personality is just about complete. I know more about who I am. I’m shy, and introverted but that’s okay. I’m learning to love myself and not feel that I have to change for anyone. My one weakness is that I still want to know about you, my father, daddy, whatever. I have thought about doing a search for you but I told myself that if you cared anything about me, you would search for me. I would be easy to find. I grew up in the same house where you came to see my mother. My last name was the same as hers. No, she didn’t list you as my father on my birth certificate. Mine is blank where it says father. I’m getting over my anger at you and over my embarrassment about being illegitimate but haven’t quite gotten over the hurt and sadness about not having you. Hopefully by the time I’m 60, if I haven’t heard from you, I will have gotten over the hurt and sadness.

Well I haven’t heard from you yet but I have no anger or hurt anymore. I am curious though to know if I have half siblings, who my other relatives are and what they are like. I also wonder if you are still alive. You would probably be around eighty or eighty-five years old, I think. If you’re still living, you may be in pretty good health. My other relatives, who are about your age, are in really good health. My family, at least my Mon’s side, are blessed with good genes. They age well.

Anyway, at sixty, I am doing GREAT! First of all, I’m saved, born again, a Believer and follower of Jesus Christ. I’ve been saved since I was 10 years old. I love God. I hope you do too. I hope you are a born again Believer. If not, it doesn’t take a lot to become a Believer. Let God know (tell Him) that you believe that Jesus died on the cross for your sins and that God raised Him from the dead. Ask Jesus to forgive you of your sins and to come into your heart and live in your heart. If you believe this and do this, you are saved. Read Romans 10^th chapter and 9^th verse. It tells you this.

Okay, so this will probably be the last letter that I write to you. But I’m going to research my ancestry to get some idea about my heritage so I won’t feel like half a person. I don’t suppose you know anything about those feelings, at least I hope you know who both your parents are and about both sides of your family. I have been approached by people a few times who thought I was someone else or looked like someone. It made me wonder if I had a sister and if she resided in Nashville. But I don’t suppose that’s of any interest to you, especially after all this time. I don’t know if men have the gene that makes them long for family or that won’t allow them to forget someone that they gave life to. I don’t think I could forget a child or not think about a child that I caused to come into the world. But then again, I love children, people really, and I’m from Venus (I’m a woman).

I am a native of Nashville, Tennessee. I grew up in an era when children without fathers in the home were called illegitimate, and treated as “less than”. I never knew my father or even his name. My mother wouldn’t talk about him. She got pregnant with me in her freshman year of college.

Although there was no father figure in the home, my mother loved me and my grandmother and other relatives helped me to be a well-rounded person. This story is true although it was written over a period of months rather than years and names were changed to protect the innocent, (my relatives).

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