Before leaving for Louisville, I made The Call. I guess I was just being paranoid, but given the current political climate, I didn’t want to shuffle off without at least meeting Callie voice-to-voice.
As it turns out, we gabbed for nearly an hour, filling in various blanks and getting a feel for one another. To me, she sounds like a good-time gal who’s slowly settled down over the years (a far cry from my own, painfully demure mother). Different, good, alien–all sorts of things.
I still don’t think the reality of our reunion has hit me yet. (Though “reunion” isn’t exactly the proper word; we weren’t really “united” in the first place. I mean, she didn’t even know she’d had a boy.) Callie, on the other hand, seems very excited, and very cautious, too. We’re set for a mid- to late-November rendez-vous. She and my sister are coming to New Orleans for a visit.
Three interesting things I learned from our conversation:
1) As a child, I was told I was born in Jackson, but in reality, my mom gave birth in Natchez. Not a big deal at all, but interesting. Apparently, Callie was sent away to a maternity home there for the bulk of her pregnancy. She said it was fairly pleasant, though when I imagine it, I invariably picture Lu-Lu’s nun-run stalag for unwed mothers in Polyester.
2) At the time of my conception, Callie was a grad student, but my father, Haleem, was an undergrad. In that way, I guess she and my mother are alike: they both prefer younger men.
3) Callie always kinda suspected I was gay. In fact, she’s very happy with it. Yippee.