If you know my life story…there are way too many coincidences. I was born in Reno, NV, and placed for adoption at birth. The judge who handled my less-than-above-board adoption was a high-profile influential man in NV for much of his long career. In 1960, less than 6 years after my birth, this same judge’s signature is on my adoptive parents’ 42-page “volatile” divorce decree.
At that time, my siblings and I moved from Reno to CA with my adoptive mother and her new husband. We lived in a number of cities across CA during the rest of my childhood. After I left home to attend college and eventually marry my husband, my parents moved up to OR, where they resided until towards the end of their lives. Last stop before they both passed away—Lodi, CA, to be closer to my adoptive mother’s only biological child and grandchildren.
Guess where the judge lived when he passed away, although it appears the majority of his family still live in NV? Lodi, CA. I am often asked, “Who knew whom personally when I was placed for adoption at birth?” Kind of haunting if they were even buried in the same cemetery.