My Journey Part II

     I guess I'll begin where we left off. I came to find out about my Dad in a very peculiar way and although that story is where I ended last I need to first give you a little prior history. I was born in Santa Maria, California at Marian Hospital with the last name Shryock on my birth certificate which had stayed my last name until I was 4 or 5 when my step Dad entered our lives and adopted my brother, sister and I and gave us his last name. I grew up believing my father was a light haired, bearded  man of Polish descent named Michael Shryock. My mom often had to fill in the blanks when I asked questions growing up and answered my curiosity most times with, "Your father used to be so kind until he was sprayed by chemicals at his job. After that exposure he lost it and was never the same since. It's not your fault he doesn't come around..he's just mentally unstable." This was a little consoling to me as a child as I wondered, 'what kind of father would want nothing to do with his kids?' I vaguely remember his infrequent visitations picking up my brother and sister; watching him load them into the car through the living room window. It was 8 years later and soon after my mom's divorce to my step Dad Mike magically appeared one morning. I remember walking into the kitchen to the sound of my brother, sister and mom singing harmony to the old country song 18 Wheels and a Dozen Roses. It wouldn't have been weird for me on any other day. My family loved music and it wasn't uncommon to hear someone in my family spontaneously brake out in a chorus and for others to join along like some kind of musical, but it was odd to see him, my father (so I thought) leading the procession. Noticing my curiosity,  he asked me if I could follow along on the drums with them. So I sheepishly said yes, and they all piled into my messy room and we rehearsed the song. I timidly played along as I watched my family do something together for the first time with this person who always had been like a ghost to me. It was weird to say the least.
     It was also during that short season that my brother Jason and I were hanging out at his house that was only a few blocks away. Jason was turning 16 and Mike to impress him, bought everyone at the party Neerbeer. All of us boys thought we were so cool, pretending we caught a buzz even though it was alcohol free. We smoked cigarettes and drank our fake beer and the whole party of friends hung out around a bonfire listening to my brother and Mike sing together and play the guitar. They sang songs like "Wildwood Flower" and "Time in a Bottle". It was then I remember I wanted to learn the guitar and learn to sing. I wanted so badly to impress this mystery Father of mine but somehow- even in close proximity-he kept his distance from me..like I was some kind of annoyance or disease. My brother idolized him though. To the point of even walking and laughing the same way, even wearing his hair the same. I never disclosed my motivation to anyone about the countless hours I spent trying to learn the guitar just to impress him..only to find out I would never got the chance to show him. Supposedly all the bonding time with us was just a ploy to get my mom to take him back and she was in no way willing. So he disappeared just as quickly as he appeared in our lives.
    I'm not to sure about the details but I can recall this being the time when I heard the family secret that he said he believed I wasn't his son. The story was rehashed by my brother of course who told me the day Mike went to the hospital to try and remove his last name from my birth certificate and how upset he was when they wouldn't do it. I didn't want to believe him at first and it only added to my hurt and rejection when my mom confirmed it to be true. I buried that pain for a long time..and it took me until 2 years ago at the age of 30 to confront him about it.
    So fast forward, two years ago on in August I was drinking some wine and wallowing about this very topic in my head. I asked my mom a while back for his phone number and she gave it to me. She told me she feared that he would hurt me more and could do more damage but I told her that was impossible. The damage was already done. So after a bottle of liquid courage I picked up the phone and called him. This is somewhat the brief dialog I remember:
Phone rings, Mike answers,

"Hello?"
"Um, hey this is Chris.. your son"
"Hi there Chris, how are you?"
"I'm alright I guess. Look, I'm really hoping to avoid small talk with you... so I'm just going to ask. I want to know, is true or not that you said you thought I wasn't your son?"
With a little hesitance in his voice he responded, "Your mother and I were separated for a couple months when she showed up on my door step saying she was pregnant with my child. I told her it was impossible and she insisted it was true. I asked her for a paternity test and she refused.You're mother has always been a   .." I cut him off mid-sentence.
"Don't talk shit about my mom. We can do a DNA test and find out. I heard it's affordable and we can find out the truth. I'll pay for it."
"No. No. I'll pay for it. That's a good idea. I will research it right away and get back to you."
"Ok. Thanks. I'll talk to you soon."
   
     With that I hung up the phone. I did it. I asked the unbearable question and the ball was rolling. He paid for the test and it landed in my mailbox a couple days later. So I took the manila package over to the local medical clinic -which was required by the testing company- and a sweet little old lady nurse swabbed my cheek. After telling her my story in brief she said with a sweet smile, "I hope he's not your father. You deserve better than him." Four days later, while at work, I got a message on my voice mail. It was Mike using a very enthusiastic tone, "CHRISTOPHER, I have the results in my hands... and I am NOT your father! I think your father is a Mexican guy named Tony. Call me back and I will tell you what I know." Then it was another message right after..this time my mom, "Hi son, please call me when you get this." My heart was racing. Mixed feelings of excitement and anger. Glad the bastard was not my Father but angry that I had been lied to my entire life. I managed to finish my shift at work (till this day I don't know how) and went to my car and called my mom. The phone rang, my mom answered:

"Hi son."
"Hey mom, so you know?"
"Yes, I was cussed out by Michael being called every name in the book."
"Well I'm sorry, but I'm pissed too. Why would you lie to me?"
"I'm not sure he's telling the truth. He's very clever and I don't believe it. I wasn't with anyone else."
In a cynical voice I replied, "Ok, I guess you're the Virgin Mary then."
"I know you're upset but I'm not lying to you. I don't remember being with any other man. I promise you though I will do whatever it takes to get answers. I will even try hypnosis or anything."
"I think you know and you're hiding it from me. DNA doesn't lie. How could you NOT know?! My whole life I've been told a lie.What about Tony? Who's that?"
'Tony, was only a friend and had a family. That's all. I love you and I'm sorry."
"Sure you do."

    With that I hung up the phone on her. For the first time ever I treated my mom with disrespect. Her tone sounded sincere and honest but I just couldn't grasp how someone could NOT know who their child's father was. Really? I felt misplaced. For all I knew my father could be Charles Manson. I drove home and told my wife. She was so supportive of me but at the same time trying to get me to see my moms side. Annie always had the wisdom to say just the right words to defuse me but she could tell I was pretty messed up by it all.
     A couple weeks later I received a friend request from a "John Beland". Seeing that he looked like a nice enough guy to be a facebook friend, I accepted. He wrote on my wall, "I really like your tunes. You have a great sound. Cheers from Australia." Later that week as I was getting off of my closing shift, my phone began to ring. It was my mom. With some hesitance I answered.

"Hello."
"Hi son. I just want you know that I've been doing everything to get answers. I know you have been going through a lot because of this. I was talking to your Aunt Bev about this and asking her to pray for me. She reminded me of the night she watched your brother and sister for me and sent me out to a Ricky Nelson concert. I never did these things. I was always a stay at home mom busy with 2 kids, and I was on my own then because my husband left me. I was stressed out and the luxury of being young and going to a concert was appealing. So I took her up on the offer her and I went to the concert by myself. I got there a little early and the guitar player passed a note through the crowd to me and asked me to stay for the second set. So, being that it was my first time out in a long time and it wasn't going to cost me anything I took the offer. Later on he asked me to go with him to the after party with the band and we did. There was a lot of people and he was showing everyone songs and we left the party together and we drank some beers and it turned into an over night thing. I really can't remember much. I never drank and it was a scary time for me being on my own. You're father could be John Beland."
With tears falling down my face I sat in my car I responded, "Wait...the guy from facebook?"

"I wish I could grab a hair from your pillow to find out but I need you to do a DNA test again. I love you and please know I will do whatever it takes to get the answers you are seeking."

    With that the conversation ended. I was in shock. I never thought in a million years the story could play out this way. I drove home and told Annie. I went online to check facebook and I had a message waiting for me. It said, "I know you must be going through a lot but just know this, I am here for you. If the results come back that I'm not your Dad you have gained a friend for life. But if the results come back that I am your Dad, I will be blessed and happy beyond measure. So it's a win win. Don't worry ok? Love from Australia. John Beland". That night I couldn't sleep. I went online and looked at pictures. Not only of him but of my entire family. I looked at pictures of my brother Tyler who looked freakishly like me as well as my grandfather. I looked at all the pictured of my sister Jessica who happens to be only a year older than me. Then I turned on music from him and I sounded just like him. It was crazy. All the while I kept telling myself to not be disappointed if the results came back negative.
     It was the longest 3 days of my life. During that time frame I was recording an album and it was ready for print, we were just waiting for the artwork to finish up. Casey Parnell, my friend and producer/engineer of that album was there the whole time waiting in anticipation with me. I told him if it's true, I want to change my last name on this album from Chabot to Beland. The results came back positive and that's exactly what I did. The story came out in the paper and on the local news just around Christmas time. Everyone said it was the perfect Christmas story. My newly found Dad was as excited about the news, if not more than I was. Posting on facebook, "It's a boy!" as if I was just born. My sister Jes (only family is allowed to call her that) immediately called me from NY. We talked for hours. I was receiving email after email from Belands welcoming me into the clan. I can't describe the high I was feeling.
    My Dad flew in to meet me just in time for my album release party. The news crew was there. I actually got the call from Joe the anchorman telling me my Dads plane flew in early and he was interviewing him. Nervous as hell my wife opted to drive. We made it to the airport and we walked in together holding hands. There was the cameras to my left and my Dad talking into a microphone. We were ironically dressed similar. Scarf, hat and coat. He hugged me and I felt like a little kid..time stood still. It was soon after that Joe asked me the most ridiculous question that was impossible to answer, "How are you feeling in this moment." I think I let my Dad do the talking. I couldn't put into words that moment. I still don't know if I can do that now, even though it's 2 years later.
    We went home and talked for hours around my kitchen table.Well, mostly he talked. His Chicago accent made his stories even that more interesting. He talked about his 50 year + life on the road, hanging out with every different rock n roll legend. He made it sound like it was everyday life, like taking out the laundry. He wasn't bragging either. He just was trying to fill me in on the past 30 years. I was captivated to say the least, as he filled up his glass over and over again with wine and with mine he would do the same. I got pretty hammered actually. In fact, I woke up with the worst hangover I've had since high-school. The morning of my hangover he felt fine of course. We had a scheduled radio station interview with Dori Donoho from Clear 101.7. Dori could see my sheet white face, so she kindly directed most of the questions to him. My Dad answered each one with so much style and grace while Dori interwove songs off the album then afterwards invited the town to my release party that night. The town did show up. It was a full house with standing room only. It was a moment I'll never forget. I asked my Dad to get on stage with me. We decided earlier on that day that we both knew The Boxer by Simon and Garfunkel so we performed it that night together. It was a magical and beautiful. We knew where to go with each other like we had rehearsed it a thousand times before. Soon the night was over and with tearful goodbyes my Dad flew back to Texas.
     The year following was a year filled with some high mountain tops and some really low valley's that I really want to get to in my next entry. There is just so much ground to cover.
So..to be continued.