balto

I’m behind in everything. Pretend it’s February 2 as you read this. xo Has anyone else read BALTO to their kids? Oh, how Mateo loved that book. He couldn’t get enough of the story of Balto, the Alaskan husky who led a team of sled dogs on the final leg of the 674-mile run to Nome from Anchorage to deliver life-saving diphtheria vaccine in January 1925. The tale of Balto so captivated Mateo that on our first family trip to NYC, we made a pilgrimage to Central Park to visit the statue honoring the hero, unveiled in December 1925. Today is the 100th Anniversary of what came to be known as The Great Serum Run or the Great Race of Mercy, which I know only from reading the “Today in History” column in our local newspaper, the Marin Independent Journal. (Yes, I subscribe to physical newspapers.) I photographed the article and texted it to Mateo, who immediately texted back, in all c “OMG THAT IS SO BIZARRE MOMMA / I JUST WOKE UP FROM A DREAM ABOUT A DOG STARING INTO MY EYES” “Whaaat???” I replied. “It was Balto, giving you strength” “Ahhh I hope so! Our canine hero!” Balto’s final resting place is at the Cleveland Museum of Natural History. We’ve never been to Cleveland, but I predict a trip in our future.

“The Faithful” essay

I read today that the San Francisco Catholic Archdiocese “very likely” plans to file for bankruptcy due to a recent “onslaught” of child abuse cases filed against its priests and other employees over decades. Seventeen years ago, the SF Chronicle Magazine published my essay “The Faithful” about my Irish Catholic father’s response to the first wave of allegations in the early 2000s. The piece feels as relevent now as it did when first published. The repercussions from abuse never end. The Faithful (sfgate.com) by Jessica O’Dwyer

11 years ago

Eleven years ago today. Us at the Golden Gate Bridge. Sometimes, I miss those simpler days. Grateful for this happy memory.

New Yorker essay on adoption’s emotional aftermath

I’m sharing “Living in Adoption’s Aftermath” by Larissa MacFarquhar in The New Yorker’s April 3, 2023 edition. It’s an intense read, well-researched, with a focus on a mostly older cohort of adoptees who are reckoning with “corruption in orphanages, hidden birth certificates, and the urge to search for their birth parents.” Larissa MacFarquhar does an exceptional job revealing just how complicated adoption can be for everyone involved, especially for many people who are themselves adopted. I wish she had included some younger voices, adoptees who have grown up knowing their birth parents and origins, who have legitimate birth certificates, for whom adoption is an open, discussed subject, not hidden and taboo. But I’m an adoptive mother who looks through an adoptive mother lens and that would have been a different article. Every sentence is thought-provoking and one statement resonated with me deeply, said by Joy Lieberthal, who was born in Korea and adopted to the U.S. when she was nearly six years old. She’s speaking here about being an international adoptee: “In the long history of time, we will exist only in a span of 60 to 70 years.” I feel the same way about my family, that we came together during a particular moment in history that is over and will never happen again. As you probably know, adoptions between the U.S. and Guatemala closed in December 2007 and show no signs of ever reopening. Indeed, “Rates of international adoption by Americans have plummeted in recent years, down ninety-three per cent since 2004.” Finally, I think it’s telling that one of the couples interviewed, Ali and Drew, abandoned their plans to adopt and opted for surrogacy. Assisted reproduction is increasingly the future, which is why I believe at least some focus and conversation should shift to ways the new industry can and should learn from lessons of adoption’s past. This piece made me stop and think, and I recommend it to anyone interested in adoption or curious about what it feels like (for at least some) to live inside it. To the several friends who forwarded it to me with reactions and thoughts, thank you. Xoxo “Living in Adoption’s Emotional Aftermath,” April 3, 2023 New Yorker

Vocabulary lesson

I remember when I learned the definition of “harbinger.” I was an adult, definitely not a kid. Somehow the word had slipped past me. Now I can even use it in a sentence: Spring!