jump to navigation

Does Joan Wheeler have any thoughts of her own – follow up January 28, 2010

Posted by Ruth in Uncategorized.

On January 27 and 28 2010, Joan copies and pastes other people’s blog posts onto her Forbidden Family blog. They are from Bastard Nation and Lori Colangelo, and are discussions about the efforts of the world to rescue and adopt orphaned children from Haiti. Joan does leave very short comments to these copied posts, both very short, and one is just a link to another adoption discussion site.

Joan says nothing about the very real tragedy that has befallen Haiti. NOTHING. All she does is whine about the Buffalo News reporting about a Buffalo attorney and his wife who are in the process of adopting a Haitian child. An adoption that was begun BEFORE the earthquake. All Joan has to say is go and on about semantics. That the Buffalo News calls them parents, when the adoption isn’t finalized yet.  This is one of Joan’s problems. She gets stuck on terminology. Why once, back in 1985, after I had my miscarriage, she got bent out of shape because the medical terminology for a miscarriage is “spontaneous abortion.” Joan wanted to know if I was offended by my medical records read “spontaneous abortion.” I explained to her that the word abortion means a “stop” to something. From the word “abort.” Even NASA uses the word abort.

Popular culture has always taken a word and misused it to the point that the meaning of the word changes.  For example, gay used to mean happy. Now it means homosexual. When a woman elects to stop her pregnancy, the medical terminology was always “elective abortion” of the fetus. Popular culture shortened it down to “abortion.” Now when people say the word “abortion” they automatically think of someone killing their fetus.

Joan may have a point, to a degree about terminology and semantics. But it seems that she stuck on it. All she can think of these days is getting labels right? That the attorney and his wife are not adoptive parents yet, but merely “prospective adoptive parents?” Has she no thoughts at all about the tragedy in Haiti? Did she even think to TRY to help out? I have shut-off notices from my gas and electric companies. I’m on payment arrangements for my water bill.  My husband, a heart patient, (post open-heart bypass surgery, 2003) had a hernia operation this past July. He is 67. He is trying to stick it out and work til he’s 70 to get the highest Social Security payments he can. If he waits til then, he’ll get over $400. more per month, than if he retires now. So he takes it day by day. He works at a little job, paying just over minimum wage. His income will DOUBLE when he retires in 3 /2 years. We’re trying to hold on to then. — So, even with our financial problems, after the earthquake, we had only $20.00 in our checking account. We donated it, via Wegmans, to help out Haiti. I also donated blood.

I wonder if ANY of these adopted reform people who keep screaming bloody murder over people wanting to adopt children orphaned by natural disasters helped out in ANY way?

This blog is supposed to be about me finding lies made by Joan Wheeler in her book Forbidden Family or on her blog, and telling the truth about said lie. I purposely have kept my mouth shut about my views on adoption, except when it was relevant to statements that Joan has said about me, or if it was relevant to my history or my family’s history. But I’m going to say my piece about rescuing and adopting children that are orphaned through natural disasters.


Like the NAMELESS children? Those whose whole families were killed by the earthquake? Like the infant who was rescued alive from his dead mother’s arms? They don’t know who this baby is, what is name is, what his family’s whereabouts are.  Does he even have any more family that is alive? What should we do with him. Call him Baby John Doe and stick him in an orphanage – an instution for the next 18 years?

Let me tell you something – I was in the Immaculate Heart of Mary Children’s Home for one year, 1959 – 1960. It was run by the Felician Nuns. It was an okay place. We had a roof over our heads, hot meals, clothes, schooling. We had medical and dental care on site, a priest and a chapel so we had all the services of a real Catholic Church. We had dance and music lessons. There was a gym. No swimming pool. An outdoor playground – swings, etc. An indoor playroom, library. We even had a small movie theatre. We saw FIRST RUN – The Seventh Voyage of Sinbad at our theatre! I still remember the Halloween party we had, and the outing to the AMA’s store at the Thruway Plaza to see Santa Claus. And we did go see the Ice Capades and the Ringling Brothers Circus at Memorial Auditorium.

But did we have home-cooked meals? Someone to tuck us into bed and sing lulabyes to us? A kiss and a hug when we did good in school? A kiss and a hug when we tripped and fell down and scraped our knees?

Our food was adequate, but boring. Oatmeal every single morning. To this day, I will NOT eat oatmeal. Neither will my husband. He spent 5 years in the German-Catholic Orphan Home, in the late 40’s. This was also run by the Catholic nuns. They must have gotten bulk rates for oatmeal.  Boring breakfast. Oatmeal.   Oatmeal.   Oatmeal.  Oatmeal.   Oatmeal.   Oatmeal.   Oatmeal.    Oatmeal.   Oatmeal.  Oatmeal.   Oatmeal.   Oatmeal.   Oatmeal.  Oatmeal.  Oatmeal.

No scrambled eggs. No fried eggs, over easy. Not even Cheerios, Corn Flakes, so you could forget about Sugar Smacks, Fruit Loops, Lucky Charms.  And to tell you the truth, I don’t even remember what they gave us for lunch and dinner. I do remember the awful Cod Liver Oil.  The old-timers knew their stuff – it was “good for what ail’s ya!”  “Keeps away colds and flu!”  Today, it is marketed as “fish oil” in palatable soft gels. It is high in Omega 3 oil. (very heart healthy). I get mine from Vitamin World;  it is easily digested, very rarely do I get a “fish-burp.”

I was in the orphanage for only one year, until my stepmother got out of the psych center, and my dad recovered from his broken leg from a car accident. But there were kids there who had no one to take them “home.” Their home was the orphanage.  Imagine having a bunch of nuns to be your mom. And yeah, we did go see the Ice Capades and the Circus, but where is the mommy to take you shopping? Even a little jaunt to the local Wal-Mart? How about the dad to take you to the zoo? or a ballgame? How about participating in bake sales for you school class. A mommy to help you make those cupcakes in the first place? A mommy you can make Mother’s Day cards for and give? AND Father’s Day cards. How about your very own Christmas Tree in your very own living room? with multiple presents with YOUR name on it, not just ONE  generic wrapped box with no name on it. maybe someone forgot to take the “girl” or “boy” tag off, so a girl wouldn’t get stuck with a truck or a boy with a doll.  Yeah, it sure was interesting to see all 20 plus of us girls opening up the boxes to find —- the very same doll in each box.

My dormintory was interesting. There was one long hall, with lots of beds. I was in a small room on the side, 4 beds. Plain beds. With one little nightstand. Lockers for our clothes.  No four poster princess beds for us. No pink  Barbie bedspreads for us. No SquareBob SpongePants, Star Wars, Mickey Mouse or race car bedsets for us. No posters of the latest teen idol for us.

When we got sick, we went to the infirmary. A little hospital. The girl’s wing had about 10 beds in it. When we got sick, we got stuck there. So as not to infect the general populace. When we puked, a nun cleaned it and us up. But nobody to hold us while we cried with a horrible sore throat.  Or a bad earache. We got our eardrops, and sent back to bed, to cry ourselves back to sleep.

So this is what Joan and all the other anti-adoption people want for little kids who got no real mommies and daddies. I lived it for a year. It was hell. I was taken care of. All my physical and educational needs were met. I made some friends there. We even had some fun there. But make no mistake: IT WAS HELL!

January 29, 2010, 8:21am.   —  I just now, reading over this, had a memory flash.  ok, I was 7 years old, 2nd grade when I was in the orphanage. I don’t remember the exact calendar day I went there, or being brought there. But I do remember, and this had to have happened the first day – MY HAIR BEING CUT OFF!

I was 7 years old, my hair was never cut in my life! Except for trimming my bangs, my hair was so long, my braids went past my butt. But because I was in an institution, and probably for State-regulated health codes to prevent lice infection, my hair was cut off.  (no, I didn’t get a buzz cut, I was left with a shorty-do). And they shampooed me with lice shampoo. I didn’t know it was lice shampoo at the time, all I know is that it stung. I was a little tomboy, the stinging didn’t bother me. It was having my hair cut off that bothered me.

When I was 5 years old, me and my sisters and brothers went to appear on the Uncle Jerry’s Club, a local kid’s TV variety talent show. It was set up like a little Las Vegas show room. Tables for the audience, stage for the show. The audience was the kids who were not performing. We had cookies and milk or pop. And we watched the show. Uncle Jerry (I’m not sure what his real name was) would come thru the audience and “interview” some of us kids. And I got interviewed. My hair was not braided, but flowing loose down my back and Uncle Jerry stopped and complimented me on my hair. I told him, on camera (live TV) that my grandma fixed my hair for the show. I loved my hair. And it had to be cut short. My sister Kathy was livid when she saw that they cut my hair.

So Joan, and all you anti-adoption people, who want to keep little kids in institutions,  you bitch and moan about how YOUR rights were taken away when you were adopted. You think leaving kids in an orphanage would be better. IT’S NOT! WHERE WERE MY RIGHTS TO HAVE LONG HAIR?  And anyways, when you’re a kid, whether you live with your natural parents, foster parents, in an orphanage, or with adopted parents, the bottom line: YOU DON’T HAVE MUCH OF A SAY IN HOW YOU ARE BROUGHT UP! You are told when to get up, your breakfast is served, you don’t have a choice when you’re 5 years old as to what school you go to. In fact, if you live in a city, you never do: the school district tells you what school you attend. And that is determined where you live. Kids don’t have say in where they live. Their parents or guardians do. I could go on and on, but I think you get my point.

UNTIL YOU ARE AN ADULT,  YOUR LIFE IS NOT YOUR OWN. DECISIONS ARE MADE FOR AND ABOUT YOU AND THAT’S THE BOTTOM LINE. So Joan, get over it. So people made decisions for you when you were three months old. Yeah, nobody asked you. Like you could say yes or no? You couldn’t even talk then you idiot. Nobody asked ME my opinion about my life when I was 3 months old!!!  Decisions were made for me until I was 18 and moved out on my own. I got a job. I have been working ever since. I have been in charge of my life since then. Before that, my father was in charge. That’s how life is Joan.  YOU had control over YOUR kids, so where were THEIR rights? mmmm?

Things happen in EVERY kid’s life that they are not happy about it. Then they grow up and move on. MOVE ON JOAN! This shit all happened more than 50 years ago!!!!



1. Forbidden Family by Joan Wheeler should be revised « Refuting a Book of Lies: Forbidden Family - January 28, 2010

[…] post:  Does Joan Wheeler have any thoughts of her own – follow up, January 28, 2010 – scroll down past this “sticky” […]

Sorry comments are closed for this entry

%d bloggers like this: