middle-age American living in New Jersey near the Lincoln Tunnel «« In this text I will suggest I might not be the father of my youngest, Ryan, but I am confident that he’s mine physically during his early childhood, emotionally since, and biologically. My marriage to my exwife, Angie, was in its final phase before ending in divorce. My memory of the time was cloudy, and some secret sex ¿Happened? probably not, but I’d be foolish to be certain without a paternity test. It would be ironic for Ryan to spend more than a decade angry and trying not to talk to me only to find I’m not his father. Short of laboratory testing his anger sustained over more than a decade is proof I’m his biological father. While I was living in DC after the legal end of the marriage to my first wife I visited Ryan’s home, the town where David is now buried, Carlisle Pennsylvania. It was ¿2003? and I was with my boss. We had lunch with Ryan, and my boss said later spontaneously and sincerely, “He even chews like you”. It was a flash moment of biological confirmation. I have reason to believe my relatives would be unwilling to raise questions, and explore answers including a laboratory if any member is motivated to pay the hundred-dollar lab fee. I am making this public statement: “I will cooperate with any request”. Though there’s a distant undeniably trace possibility that my late father is not my biological father he is. My hardware is a near perfect match with his. I know this with medical confidence that surfaced in the years that followed my stroke, so it’s not the same as a paternity test, but considering lab error my scientific evidence comes with equal or higher certainty. In addition there’s a billion chews-like-you-type moments that reinforces who my father was. While I lack any sense of my mother’s side I will make the following statement on my dad’s side: I suspect the number of Bill, Marylou, Helene descendants who were raised by men not there biological father is not zero. I repeat I would cooperate with any bio sample for lab testing. This blog post is inspired by a fresh BBC report including mention of a book: “the secrets in my genes”. The Bill-Marylou-Helene descendents have problems including, but not limited to eating disorders. I spent a week in rehab Arizona The Meadows, and it was major. I’m not permitted to share details about the week, and I honor the prohibition never telling anyone including Hana, including Adam the name of the famous person who was in therapy the week I attended. I met the man who was in therapy under a pseudonym though with my sister’s help I knew who he was when we met. I can’t say what the week included, but I can say what was not included. No place in our family therapy was it suggested parternaty questions were valuable. Dear kind readers: Saying, “we didn’t talk about paternity at The Meadows” may sound like a non statement, but if you were to understand with any sense of intimacy the week-long inside-out total-emotional group-therapy, then you would understand not talking about paternity is meaningful. Sincerely, Tom Doody »» about me 302-990-2346 contact us

About Tom Doody

middle-age American living in New Jersey near the Lincoln Tunnel
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2 Responses to paternity

  1. Erika M says:

    Tom- I have the sneaking suspicion that if either of your kids or even any other family members read this, it’s going to go over like a turd in a punch bow. Somehow I don’t think that even suggesting your ex-wife was unfaithful is going to help boost your parental status with any of them. You may be in a for a major shit storm.


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