Chapter Eleven

Siblings

Until I was about seven years old, I was an only child. Suddenly, my role as queen in our home was interrupted by an invader ... my brother. Danny was about seven months old when we brought him home.

Mom and Dad's excitement rubbed off on me at least until he became the major disrupter of my life ... and, if they would have admitted it, he was a major disrupter of Mom and Dad's life.

I remember the day we packed up the car and headed to LaGrange to "pick out a baby" to be my brother. I didn't understand that the arrangements had already been made and Mom and Dad knew exactly which baby they were getting. His birth name was "John Smith"; they legally changed his name to Daniel John Bosch at the time the adoption was finalized.

I remember Danny as a rolly poly baby. He slept in a crib in my bedroom, invading my space, making noises, and as he got a little older he became difficult. Once he was able to crawl, he would rock in his crib, hitting his head against the headboard. He would rock so hard that the crib would scoot across the floor. It wasn't long until Mom and Dad became concerned about his behavior and sought medical help.

The social worker told Mom and Dad that Danny's father was in the Navy and a heavy drinker. His mother was reportedly too young to have a child or she was a young college student in Pennsylvania; we have no idea how much of that is true but that's the story we were told. In retrospect, I truly believe his mother was either an addict or an alcohol abuser while she was carrying him. As I remember his behavior, it certainly would make sense.

Mom took him to a child psychologist who prescribed some meds to help calm him down. I remember there being a time of adjustment as they tried different things as he grew into his early elementary years. He was a problem in the classroom but it wasn't that he couldn't learn. His problem was always his behavior.

I don't remember when he quit taking medicine for his ADHD. He loved being with Dad, went on fishing trips with him, and enjoyed backyard sports. Organized sports never worked for him because he couldn't work together with others as a team. He never graduated from high school but eventually earned his GED.

Although we spent a great deal of time together when he was young, I don't remember ever enjoying a close relationship with him as we got older. He had problems that were difficult to deal with. But he was loved; there's no question about it.

I have to admit that I never had the kind of closeness with him that most siblings enjoy. Mom used to tell me he was jealous of me because my life seemed to fall into place with some obvious talents and abilities, steady jobs, a husband, and a slew of kids. In his eyes we were stable and successfully adulting. But our successes only made his failures more prominent in his view. I blame myself at times for allowing him to feel that way without trying to correct his perception of my life. If he had only known of some of our struggles, he may have thought differently. Perhaps it would have made a difference to him.

When I was pregnant with Andrew, we were living in California. Danny had just gotten out of jail for trying to sell drugs to a police officer. We decided to ask Mom and Dad if they thought it would be better for him to have some time away from friends and his bad choice of influencers and stay with us for a while. They agreed that it might be good for him but we never dreamed that he would take advantage of us as he did.

My pregnancy with Andrew was high-risk and I was on disability and rest for the duration. Danny proceeded to get in trouble at a local bar. One night when he came home drunk, he shoved me against the wall and lifted his hand as if to hit me. My husband stopped him, told him to pack his bags and get out.

Of course, Mom and Dad weren't very happy with us for kicking him out. We had no choice. They eventually arranged for him to get home and we were very relieved. Not only was I pregnant with a high-risk pregnancy, but his disrespect toward us was unacceptable.

Danny stayed at home for a while but drank heavily. Mom and Dad both were always upset, fearing the worst for him. Dad, because of his compassionate heart, would always stock the refrigerator with beer when Danny was home to keep him calm. He eventually left home and went to Columbus where he lived on the streets and in halfway houses until he died of cirrhosis of the liver.

My memories of Danny aren't the best and, because I was older, there aren't many good ones of us growing up together.

Dugger Siblings

We covered a lot about biological siblings in the last few chapters. Here's a little chart to perhaps make things a bit easier:

Admittedly, it's been a challenge to truly bond with my half-siblings. For the most part, distance is a problem but when it isn't, other things factor in.

Suddenly learning you have siblings when you're 50, 60, and 70 years old, acting like you've grown up with them as part of your family is impossible. We've had many different life experiences. They don't understand mine. I don't understand theirs. Finding common ground, if it exists at all, is difficult. So, we interact on a very benign and almost impersonal level. We declare our love for one another (and it's a genuine love) but the depth of who we are remains guarded

A few years ago, the Dugger sisters (before we discovered Shayne) went on a "Sisterhood Retreat" to the Gatlinburg area for a long weekend. It was awkward but it was a good experience for us all. We had a chance to learn more about each other, often bathed in laughter and fun. But, there were times when the awkwardness turned to hurtful issues as we tackled some of the deeper topics we hold dear to our hearts. Our children. Our beliefs. Our childhood experiences. It seemed as if everything that made us who we were couldn't or wouldn't blend. We eventually kept our discussions more superficial due to an unspoken decision not to dig too deeply.

Tears and laughter. Joy and pain. Such a mixed bucket of emotions for all of us!

I learned a lot from those four days in Gatlinburg. I'm sure they left with much the same feeling. Sadly, Paula (now known as Angel) seemed to have had the hardest time. Her birth order was challenged since she was no longer the oldest and the pseudo-mom to the other girls. Suddenly, she had an older sister with strong opinions that didn't jive with hers.

Paula asked some hard questions and I'm now sure I wasn't as grace-full with my answers as I should have been. It now seems I failed to put myself in her shoes and give her answers bathed in grace she needed that would be palatable to her without compromising the truth. Instead, I feel like I pushed her away, not just from me but from God.

When it comes to our children, it's hard to digest anything other than unconditional love and acceptance even if their life choices aren't what we would choose for them. She withdrew from all of us for a few years; I still haven't been in touch with her since we said our goodbyes that beautiful October morning in the Tennessee mountains.

Stockwell Siblings

The Stockwell siblings have been little more than a simple fact of knowing who and where they are. Carol lives in Portage Lakes, about a 2-hour drive from Willard. We've only met face-to-face twice. Our first meeting was when we went to their 50th wedding anniversary party at their church. It was a nice event but a bit awkward since we didn't know anyone. The second meeting was our 50th wedding anniversary at our church. Again, it was a bit awkward but Carol and Ray sat at the table with Chris and Bill Robertson from Medina County; Chris had been my Maid of Honor. It was a busy evening and we didn't have much chance to talk. We've exchanged nice words and some encouragement with each other via Facebook, but that's as far as we've gone in our relationship. She has severe health problems and I do as well; I'm sure that makes developing a closer relationship more difficult.

Not long after I discovered the Stockwell siblings, Sharon Rose died from a stroke and heart problems (if I remember correctly).

Stanley (Butch) is living in Michigan; his wife (Reba) and I are Facebook friends. They talk occasionally to Jim.

Judy Stockwell Dow lives in Oscode, Michigan, to the best of my knowledge. I've not had any contact with her. I'm not even sure she's still living.

James "Jim" Stockwell lives in Michigan with his friend, Ted. Jim has had a troubled life. We used to talk, but it was difficult to maintain a friendship/relationship with him. Honestly, it seems as if he wanted me to reject him because he is gay. But, that's just a guess. Our chatting via Facebook became uncomfortable so when I lost my original FB page, I just never added him.

I've never met or reached out to Rick Van Dam; I probably never will. The rest of the Stockwell sibling story includes Tom. As much as his life was tragic in many ways, I'm thankful to have had a chance to meet him. Josh (his son) and his wife have a beautiful child, Ava. I've not met Tom's daughter, Heather, but we've talked on the phone and exchanged text messages.

So, that's the sum of my siblings, half and whole. I feel alone and if it hadn't been for my own children, I would feel very empty inside. Maybe I'm anti-social. Perhaps I'm difficult to get along with. I simply don't know. But this I know ... God blessed me with the best children and grandchildren possible, and I mean every word of that!