This account is also for my wonderful family and friends who are so excited about this. They are all so supportive and anxious for updates. This is a way I can tell them all at once. It also helps me to write this as I go. Most importantly, its for my biological mother. If she needs time, or doesn’t wish to meet me, maybe she can at least get my message from this.
My primary reason for finding her has been the same all my life. I want her to know that her decision turned out as she would have hoped. I’ve had a happy life, I became an artist, a music maker.
Most importantly, I have always thought of her with so much love and reverence for the brave decision she made so long ago.
I want her to know if she has ever thought of me, maybe she thinks, today I am 10, or 18, 21, or 30. I was also thinking of her and so grateful for my life that she gave. I have imagined all the possibilities and I know that anything can happen. Or not happen. I have learned much in the past few weeks, and I’ll share that as I go. It seems like its really going to happen. I’m working with an adoption specialist who is wonderful, leading me through all the steps. My heart pounds when he gives me updates on the phone.
So thank you for being with me for this. As soon as I get some of this background written, I will be writing in real time. It’s all happening much faster than I thought it would, so I’m scrambling to catch up. So here goes.
I always knew I was adopted. As long as I can remember my mom would tell me the story like a fairy tale with a happy ending. The year before adopting me, they lost a baby born premature. As my story was told to me, a mom and dad were sad because they lost their baby boy. They prayed for another baby and God gave them his smallest angel, and that was me, and I made them happy again.
My adoptive father Florencio Ernesto Franco was a sheriff in East LA. My mother Carol Lee Franco was a homemaker. Like many people in that era, they met in high school, were engaged and then married after his time in the service.
This is the only time I will call them “adoptive” because they are my mom and dad, so I’ll refer to them as that. For the woman I hope to find, I will call her “biological” mother. Florencio and Carol Franco took me home just weeks after my birth, and named me Lisa Lynne Franco.
My mom speaks of they day they brought me home as if it was yesterday. It was a full year after applying to adopt. There were many interviews and a lot of hoping and waiting. They finally got the news that there was a little girl who was here and she would be theirs. My mom said they were taking me home for the first time and she could not believe the length of my eyelashes. My dad had to keep pulling over the car so they could look at me.
We went straight to the home of my dad’s parents. My Nana and Tata, where there was a party for me! I had many aunts and uncles, lots of cousins, I could feel how happy everyone was.
|Adelina and Florencio Sr.|
This might be hard to believe, but I’m certain I remember that day. Just brief moments, images, and smells. I was wrapped in a blanket and facing the ceiling. I remember the lamps from the ceiling, I remember being passed around from arms to arms, big giant smiley faces peering at me, kisses from sweaty happy kids on my forehead.The smell of home cooking and sound of my Nana’s voice singing my name.. There was mariachi music on the radio. I know I remember this, and I remember having a very conscious thought.
This is going to be just fine…
I grew up in Southern California around Whittier and Diamond Bar. It was a middle class upbringing and a lot of fun and celebrations.
|My dog Pokey|
I loved sleepovers with my cousins playing endless board games, riding bikes, putting on shows. We dressed up for Sundays with homemade Mexican food, always a birthday or new baby, and music.
|Me on the left, – hmmm… not so sure about this.|
My dad worked in the East LA sheriffs station his whole career. He worked undercover for burglary cases, homicide and narcotics. He would sometimes bring me by the station on his day off and we’d have orange soda there.
When he came home from work my sister and I would run to him knowing he would give us a flip in the air and say “va va voom!!” .. and we would say
“do it again dad!!” over and over.
I started playing guitar when I was eight years old. I got pretty good so I got lessons and learned lots of songs. My dad would always ask me to play my songs at our campfires. My mom had read that if you play music for a baby, they will be musical.
So she put music on for me in my crib in hopes that would happen.