San Antonio, TX.
I was 52 when I confirmed what I had long dodged: I was adopted — more like appropriated — at birth. Back then and in my part of the world (Texas), those things happened. My adoptive parents are on my birth certificate as the birth parents. Whatya gonna do, right? I have very little knowledge of where I came from — just gossip. My father died without telling me the truth, and my mother had Alzheimer’s pickling her brain when I found out so she couldn’t help me too much. Therefore I have no personal history. But I know that I belong to the great human race (there is only one race, you know) and that the people on this planet are related. That’s all that I can vouch for. Beyond that, I am hoping NatGeo and Family DNA give me a bit more information.