I was David Bowie's love child.
Happy 60th birthday to the man I thought was my father. Well, for a year, or so, I did, at least.
Yes, I've told this story before, but ya know what? It's not like everyone pays attention to me; it will be like a brand-new story!
Here's what happened:
The summer before I turned 12, we were on a family outing. We were camping someplace in Colorado and one lovely, sunny day, all six of us were hiking amicably along a trail in the forest. It was a Disneyesque moment. My mom started falling behind and I was already not with the group due to side-excursions. She suggested we go sit by the stream while Dad and the other kids went ahead. This was a good opportunity for me to chuck my shoes right off and go wading, which I promptly did.
As I was sitting on the bank, dabbling my wet toes in the water while my legs dried, my mother told me that my father was not actually my father. I had another father, a real one, a "biological" one. She didn't say much about it, but the gist of the story was she got knocked-up at 19 and the good-for-nothing blonde muscian who did it walked right out of her life. Thank goodness my "dad" came along and married her two years later, or so I was lead to believe.
This was not expected news, nor had I any suspicion, aside from the normal, "I have to be adopted there's no way I'm part of this jacked-up family" thoughts every kid has. Because my mom wouldn't share much more information regarding the "sperm donor", I had to piece it together myself.
If you look at the information at hand, I think you'll find this makes perfectly logical sense...in the mind of a not-yet-12-year-old:
Who could my father be? A blonde musician? Who was a blonde singer I liked...
1) I knew (my version) of all released-in-America David Bowie lyrics by 1974. Apparently, he was my favorite musician and I enjoyed dancing the dance only toddlers can do every time my aunt would put his records on the turntable.
2) I had a David Bowie t-shirt. How many other tykes could boast of such a thing under the age of 3? Hmm? I don't actually know. I mean, I also had an Ike and Tina Turner concert T and, for all I know, all my tiny playmates all had the same Bowie shirt...I don't actually remember that far back.
3) David Bowie has two different-colored eyes. I have two different-colored eyes. (I had not yet taken a biology course. I figured it was genetic).
4) David Bowie had messed-up teeth. I had (and still do have) messed-up teeth. (See above explanation).
Now. Think about that from the perspective of someone who just found out that she really isn't truly a full-fledged member of her family. Realizing that David Bowie was my father, David Bowie who visited Colorado regularly, David Bowie whom my aunt had seen in concert a few times...it just all made sense.
However, it also brought up the possibility that my mother wasn't my mother, but my beautiful (well, at the time, I certainly did think so) aunt, who could easily have been a groupie, was really the one who got pregnant by Mr. Bowie, himself, and not only was my "dad" not my father, but my "mom" wasn't my mother!
It was a very intriguing year.
And then I came to my senses and realized there'd at least have been a trust fund set aside for me at some point had I a famous British father.
Regardless, due to sentimentality both for my childhood love of his music and for the year he was my long-lost parent, as well as because I just think he's a damn great artist, I would like to take a moment to say, "Happy Birthday" to Mr. Jones/Bowie/Stardust/Sane/Iman, who is 60 today...which, incedentally, is old enough to be my father.
Yes, I've told this story before, but ya know what? It's not like everyone pays attention to me; it will be like a brand-new story!
Here's what happened:
The summer before I turned 12, we were on a family outing. We were camping someplace in Colorado and one lovely, sunny day, all six of us were hiking amicably along a trail in the forest. It was a Disneyesque moment. My mom started falling behind and I was already not with the group due to side-excursions. She suggested we go sit by the stream while Dad and the other kids went ahead. This was a good opportunity for me to chuck my shoes right off and go wading, which I promptly did.
As I was sitting on the bank, dabbling my wet toes in the water while my legs dried, my mother told me that my father was not actually my father. I had another father, a real one, a "biological" one. She didn't say much about it, but the gist of the story was she got knocked-up at 19 and the good-for-nothing blonde muscian who did it walked right out of her life. Thank goodness my "dad" came along and married her two years later, or so I was lead to believe.
This was not expected news, nor had I any suspicion, aside from the normal, "I have to be adopted there's no way I'm part of this jacked-up family" thoughts every kid has. Because my mom wouldn't share much more information regarding the "sperm donor", I had to piece it together myself.
If you look at the information at hand, I think you'll find this makes perfectly logical sense...in the mind of a not-yet-12-year-old:
Who could my father be? A blonde musician? Who was a blonde singer I liked...
1) I knew (my version) of all released-in-America David Bowie lyrics by 1974. Apparently, he was my favorite musician and I enjoyed dancing the dance only toddlers can do every time my aunt would put his records on the turntable.
2) I had a David Bowie t-shirt. How many other tykes could boast of such a thing under the age of 3? Hmm? I don't actually know. I mean, I also had an Ike and Tina Turner concert T and, for all I know, all my tiny playmates all had the same Bowie shirt...I don't actually remember that far back.
3) David Bowie has two different-colored eyes. I have two different-colored eyes. (I had not yet taken a biology course. I figured it was genetic).
4) David Bowie had messed-up teeth. I had (and still do have) messed-up teeth. (See above explanation).
Now. Think about that from the perspective of someone who just found out that she really isn't truly a full-fledged member of her family. Realizing that David Bowie was my father, David Bowie who visited Colorado regularly, David Bowie whom my aunt had seen in concert a few times...it just all made sense.
However, it also brought up the possibility that my mother wasn't my mother, but my beautiful (well, at the time, I certainly did think so) aunt, who could easily have been a groupie, was really the one who got pregnant by Mr. Bowie, himself, and not only was my "dad" not my father, but my "mom" wasn't my mother!
It was a very intriguing year.
And then I came to my senses and realized there'd at least have been a trust fund set aside for me at some point had I a famous British father.
Regardless, due to sentimentality both for my childhood love of his music and for the year he was my long-lost parent, as well as because I just think he's a damn great artist, I would like to take a moment to say, "Happy Birthday" to Mr. Jones/Bowie/Stardust/Sane/Iman, who is 60 today...which, incedentally, is old enough to be my father.