Everyone who is adopted knows that we carry around this
thing in the back of our minds that reminds us every day of our lives “Someone
didn’t want us”, “Someone gave us away”. No matter how great your adopted
family was/is, it is still there, lingering, haunting. No amount of great
living will ever make it go away. It is always there in the back ground. We
learn to live with its little voice popping up at the most inappropriate times.
My search for my father started in earnest in the late 90’s.
I could find nothing on the internet or anywhere else I searched for Ray Morris
Hilton, which was the name I was given as my father’s name. For years it was
achingly frustrating. After a time I even had doubts that this man actually existed.
But I also knew that all it would take would be one little break and I would be
able to find him. One little piece of extra information and I would be able to
know where and how to search. So I kept going.
That break came a few weeks ago and has revealed some pretty
awesome stuff. My adopted father told me once, “Don’t search for your birth
father or mother because you may discover things you don’t want to know”. Dad,
you were wrong. I ALWAYS want to know. It is the not knowing that will drive a person
crazy.
About a month ago, I was searching the Washington Post
archives for a story about my maternal grandmother, Helen. I found that story
and it turned out to be a sad thing that happened to her. I don’t know why but
it took me another week to have the thought that “Oh, maybe I should search the
Washington Post for a story about Ray.” So I did. Low and behold, there it was,
right in front of me. I couldn’t believe it. It was an “In Memorandum” article
and there were four entries. The entries were addressed to Ray Morris Newton
(nee’ Hilton) and they were poems that my father had written for the people who
were posting the article and it was on the anniversary of his death which
occurred in 1965. I knew immediately that I had the right person because the
first post was from his sister, Jean. I had known for some time that he had a
sister named Jean. No wonder I couldn’t find anything on Ray Morris Hilton,
that wasn’t his given name at birth. After some more research I found out that
He was born Ray Morris Newton. His mother, Addie, had remarried a man with the
last name of Hilton. My father had two step brothers named Harry and George
Hilton. For some reason, maybe to feel more like part of the family, my father
used the Hilton name. Maybe this man adopted him. I’m not sure about all that
but he used the name for several years. It was during this time, that my mother
got pregnant and so it was this name he gave the adoption agency. He then went
back to using Newton because three years later he had a son, whose last name
was Newton.
My father had kind of a crazy life in his short 25 years on
earth. Changes in his family life and then there was me. In reading the work
that I could find by him, the fact that he had two illegitimate children
running around, one which he knew and one which he didn’t, pressed on him. In
1960, perhaps to get more stability in his life, or to get money for college,
or both, he enlisted in the Air Force. He served for four years and was
medically discharged. I don’t know why yet, I’m waiting on the records from the
archive. After being discharged, he moved to Tampa Florida and started college
at the University of Tampa. He made
quite a name for himself and became a co-editor of the Poetry Review, a
literary magazine put out by the college. His major was English Lit and he even
belonged to an English Literature Honor Society, Sigma Tau Delta.
My father died in 1965 of a Cerebral Vascular Hemorrhage, which
came on suddenly. Had he lived he would have been 75 this September. He lies at
Arlington National Cemetery which is an honor for our family and I know he
would be pleased to know that he ended up there, as morbid as that may sound.
My father wasn’t afraid of morbidity. Much of his work that
I’ve found so far is filled with it. From what I can tell so far from the
things I’ve read and the pictures I’ve managed to get a hold of, he was a
gorgeous, creative man, a writer of poetry, a dancer, tall, tight waving medium
blond hair and a killer smile, not the open mouth teeth showing kind of smile,
but mischievous and knowing, like mine actually. My brother looks like me and we both look like
him, same nose; same eyes. He was sensitive and thoughtful and I have no doubt
that had he lived we would have been great friends and he would have wanted a
relationship with me. I believe it was painful for him to give me up. The
mother of his son, not only kept him but also gave him Ray’s last name (Newton).
I think this may have helped him heal some of the wounds he felt in giving me
up.
Had he lived I would have been able to share all of my
recent research with him which I’m sure would have made him laugh at the irony
of it all but also understand the gravity of our ancestral history, which is
very long and quite grand. I believe he then would have been able to lay to
rest some of his demons knowing that our family line dates back almost 2,000
years and is filled with interesting stories and notable people. In looking at
the history, all of the Newtons have been through much and come a very long
way.
In recent history, our ancestors were all farmers from
Stafford Virginia going back through the 1600’s but there are some notable
people in our paternal line. Our first cousin, eleven times removed from him,
twelve from me, was Sir Isaac Newton. Yes, THAT Sir Isaac Newton. You know the
one, invented the telescope, discovered the theory of gravity, and discovered
the theory of light and color which is still used by science today. He was also
a religious scholar, something most people don’t know about him as it is not
widely published but he had serious questions about “Trinity-ism” and so
studied the bible and other religious texts deeply and wrote about his studies.
Because of the time and place he lived (England in the 15th century)
his work on this subject was not published until almost 200 years after his
death. I wonder what he thought about
Judaism. Looks like I have some more research to do.
The 11th and 12th century brought us
Kings and Queens, of Wales, which the areas they ruled over eventually became
part of England. We are the direct line of King Caractacus, in Welsh the name
is Caradog, who was captured by the Romans and made such a speech to the Emperor
Claudius that he spared him from a military execution. I guess that explains
where my powers of persuasion and long windedness come from!
I have only researched the paternal line so far. I’m having
some issues with trying to find Addie’s maiden name (my father’s mother) but I
will keep going till I find that one little piece of information. I am anxious
to see what I find in the other parts of my history. So far, it’s been Jews who
escaped the Holocaust who had a penchant for playing German beer garden and Yiddish
music who fell away from Judaism and married outside the faith, an Irish
grandmother who fell out of a car drunk and died whose sister was a champion
Irish dancer, a father who wrote poetry and was a ballroom dancer, British
scientists, and Welsh kings and queens. It has been quite and adventure and I
am so ready for more. I now know where all the key elements of my personality
came from, musician, dancer, writer, thinker, creator, my sensitivity, my
intellect, my intense interest in religion. It’s all there in my family line. Like
someone once said to me, “you’re like Prego spaghetti sauce, it’s in there”. In
not wanting to have a relationship with me, my birth mother has no idea what
she’s missing.
Daddy, I love you, and even though we’ve never met, I miss
you. I honor your service to our country and I will be there tomorrow, putting
flowers on your grave and saying hello. Where ever you are, I know you are
looking down on me, respecting my tenacity, loving the fact that after all
these years, I finally found you.
Love, your Daughter
Kathleen Bernadette Aufrecht Newton
