Chapter 51

     My oldest brothers had been looking for my sister, Janet, and I.  Dave, my second oldest brother, wrote to the county office where we had been adopted out of to try to find us, but his request for information was rejected.  He was upset over it and in the spur of the moment, picked up the phone and called them.

     It so happened that the lady who had handled our case twenty-three years earlier had retired ten years before, but for the first time since, was back in the office that day.  She overheard the call and asked to talk to Dave.  She told him that she knew exactly where his younger siblings had gone, and that she would try to get ahold of the adoptive mother to get permission to give him their information.

     She called where Shirley had worked at the time as a schoolteacher and was able within a few calls to track her down.  Shirley agreed to talk with Dave.

     Later that evening while I was working at my bakery in Bozeman, I got a call from a guy who started off saying, “Hi, my name is Dave Adkins, and I am your older brother.”

     He just kept on talking, telling me what all he had just gone through to get my info to contact me.  The whole time he was talking,  I was thinking and wondering about who I would have told that I was adopted, and who would pull such a prank, but I could think of no one in Bozeman that even knew I was adopted.

     At one point Dave drew a breath and asked me if I was tracking what he was saying.  I told him to continue, that he had my attention.  He informed me that he had other siblings of ours and my mom, Vivian, waiting to talk with me. 

     Before the night was over, I had talked to them all.  A crazy evening indeed for me.  Over the next few months, I talked with a total of eight other brothers and sisters, besides my sister, Janet, whom I had grown up with.

     A reunion was organized in Kansas City when we were living in Lawrence, and we drove over to meet everyone.  My father, known as “Daddy Bill,” was there too.  The man with the gun I had taken a walk with along that path so many years ago.

     The local television station came out and filmed the reunion and played some of it on the local news.  

     It was such a huge thing for me, as I was able to get a lot of questions answered.  To be able to see people that even looked similar to me, and seeing how we all related, was amazing. 

     Vivian, my biological mom, had visited Janet in Springfield right after they had first talked.  When she walked into her home, she saw a picture of me on the wall and asked Janet how she had gotten a picture of Kevin, one of my brothers.  Janet told her it was a picture of me, not Kevin.  Vivian informed her that I looked just like Kevin.

     One of the first things Vivian asked me was about the last time we had seen each other, and how I had not given her a hug goodbye.  I told her about how I just didn’t want to go through the pain of the aftermath of another separation.  She understood but told me how it had been a very painful experience for her too, especially because she had not gotten that one more hug. 

     I was informed that my dad William, had been drafted and gotten a virus that had killed a few guys in boot camp but had spared him.  However, it had cooked his brain and the army kicked him out the day before he was eligible for disability benefits. 

     He had slowly gone downhill after his release, and after a construction accident when he had broken his back, he was out of work for such a time that the family had to apply for welfare benefits.  

     The judge, along with a social worker, came by the house to let Vivian know they had been approved, but a ruckus broke out and the judge called the police, and we were taken away. 

     There is a lot more to that story but to me, it was just a very sad thing to have happened, and even sadder how Daddy Bill had lived on the streets, homeless, for decades since.  No way to have treated a veteran.

     This event was the only time that all ten siblings along with our mom and dad, Vivian, and Bill, got together at one time.  I have since met my dad’s mother, my grandmother and several aunts, uncles, and cousins over the years.  

     My great-grandfather Jasper Adkins had ten children and there is a huge extended family in the Kansas City area I have never met, but I still hope to, someday. 

     Having had to close the Bakery in Bozeman and sell off the assets to cover debt was very shocking to me, as we had been doing so well up to just a few short months before. 

     My thoughts would often go over what all happened and caused me to wonder if I needed to file bankruptcy, so I went to see an attorney.  He listened as I went over the particulars of my business but at the end told me he didn’t think I needed to file bankruptcy as most of my debts had been paid and the remaining creditors were not seeking any recompense. 

     He then asked me, “Why hadn’t anyone helped me?”  He explained to me the very simple things I could have done to keep everything together, so to be able to weather the storm of the economic downturn.  

     It surprised me, but saddened me also, as no one had ever even tried to help me, even some quite capable friends and business associates.  

     These thoughts eventually motivated me to help others that were going through similar things I had gone through, which in turn led me to my consulting career.  Over the next twenty-five years I have been successful at ninety-five percent of the projects I put my hand to. 

     One day, though in 1988, I was praying about my failings, the Holy Spirit spoke to me very clearly stating that in twenty years an economic crash would occur nationwide, which would start with a real-estate market crash and begin my dream,  “Times of Trouble”.

     Lori and I, and the kids; Katie, Kelly, and Daniel all caught the flu in February-March of 1989.  So severe was the flu that we were not able to go to work or school for almost a month.  This caused Lori and I to drop out of school, which led us to rethink whether we wanted to stay in Lawrence or return to Bozeman, as we had heard the economy was starting to turn around there. 

     Praying about it, the Holy Spirit told me quite clearly, “Whatever you want to do, do so quickly, as wherever you are in a couple of months, you will be for the next two years.”  We sold our mobile home and took off for Bozeman in late May.

     We decided to rent a one-bedroom apartment for a month at the apartments we used to manage, while looking for a more permanent place to live.  We found a little white house for sale close to Main Street in Bozeman that we liked.  We made an offer to purchase it that was accepted. 

     Interestingly enough though, I had met the owner of the house during my days transporting Ryder Trucks.  She had been hitch-hiking and was late for work.  I gave her a ride home and had dropped her off at that house.  It had really helped her, and she was gracious in her dealings with us.  She was a motorcycle enthusiast and was rebuilding an engine in her basement. 

     The day we signed the agreement to purchase the house, we had also taken Danny to the doctor as he had never quite recovered from the flu, and something just seemed to be off because he was sleeping twenty hours a day and not eating very well. 

     The doctor had told us to just give him lots of fluids and rest, but I informed him that something was seriously wrong and if he couldn’t do anything, I was going to take him to the hospital.  In response, he agreed to give him a blood test, that might at least tell us something about what was going on. 

     When we came back to the apartment after signing the papers on the house and running errands, there was a note on the door from the doctor.  The note said to call him immediately.  I did so and he informed me that Danny had Leukemia and we needed to get him to the hospital right away.  

     The doctor arranged to transport him to Denver Children’s Hospital, but we had to go to the hospital to get another blood test first.  The results of his first blood test had his white cell count at over 500,000 which was extremely rare and would kill most people. 

    Danny had his blood tested again and his white cell count was 650,000.  A plane arrived and the medical personnel came to check Danny at the Hospital to see if he would make the trip.  They decided it was worth a try and Danny and I left Lori, not knowing if she would ever see him alive again.

     We made it to Denver Children’s Hospital and began treatments.  We went through the first few days not knowing whether he would survive at all.  The staff at the hospital were so amazing it is hard to even express my gratitude for their help through it all.

     The chemotherapy induction treatment took ninety days.  The first thirty days Danny was in the hospital but the next sixty, we stayed at the local Ronald McDonald House. 

     I remember when I went to pick up Danny’s medical supplies, before we headed to the Ronald McDonald House, and was asked what my name was.  I told them the patient was Danial Reynolds, but she wanted to know my name.  My stress level was so high, I just couldn’t remember my own name.  Then I had the thought of looking at my driver’s license.  That worked, and I gave her my name.

     Lori had to accomplish the move into our new house by herself and the kids.  In addition, she had been pregnant and delivered our fourth child, Melissa. 

     Marshall flew his then wife, Geri, to Bozeman to help Lori for a few weeks.  She helped Lori move and get settled into the house. She built a kitchen counter and did various repairs that were needed around the house.  

     Lori’s pregnancy was overdue, and on the day before Geri was to leave Bozeman, Lori was induced and gave birth.   Geri was a life saver for Lori and the kids and a huge help during a very stressful time.

     Lori and the kids came to visit a few weeks after Melissa was born, staying at the Ronald McDonald house, too.  Danny had stopped talking and walking when he got sick but when he saw everyone, he started talking and walking again. 

     Danny and I came home in early September, and he did pretty well in remission but the next summer, on July 1st, we found out the Leukemia had come back.  He lived another month and a half and passed away on August 21, 1990.