My name is Rosie Reid Funk. This is the blog my father, singer/songwriter Bob Reid, started for me to chronicle the story of how we first met on May 15, 2008. He chose the name “Creolebelle”, which I am keeping because I cherish my father’s adoration of me, not because I’m vain. Well, ok, I am, but not that vain.  For those who are not part of the large French-speaking community in Southern California -call me, you two!- belle means “beautiful.” My discovery of my Creole heritage is part of the story.

It has been over a year since I found Bob, but I am still dealing with the issues it continues to raise: identity, racism, family disfunction, marital strife. I have blogged about them all and in so doing have sped up the process of understanding for both myself and others. You may yourself find something useful here.

To date, this blog has gotten over 11,000 hits. Some of those reading it have been inspired to find a long-lost relative. I do not discourage anyone from doing so, but I hope that reading this blog will help others to realize that this is not a decision to be made rashly. Even the best-case scenarios will have far-reaching effects on your life and your family, even on your health. Words commonly used by people who have succeeded in their search are “whirlwind” and “rollercoaster”. If you are thinking about searching, brace yourself! I hope this blog will give you some insight on what you might encounter. And by all means, please write to me if your search is successful. These shared experiences benefit us all. (click here for helpful adoption reunion sites)

If you decide to proceed with your search, here’s what you will probably need:

  • the Internet
  • a good therapist
  • tranquilizers (in moderation!)
  • antidepressants
  • a shoulder to cry on
  • a spiritual advisor
  • couples therapy
  • courage

Don’t get me wrong. For me the pain has been totally worth it. Even if at some point my father were to decide that he wanted nothing to do with me, I would be heartbroken, of course, but I still found the answers I was looking for. No one can take that away from me. An adoptee once said that not knowing where you came from is “as disconcerting as not being able to remember what you did while drunk”. I found peace by finding a huge part of myself.

My conclusion? Finding a lost-lost parent: costly. The satisfaction of knowing who you are: priceless.

If you haven’t read the first page yet, start with “The First Day of the Rest of My Life” .