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Townhall...
Memo to Arnold
Schwarzenegger and the Media -- There Are No Illegitimate Kids, Just
Illegitimate Parents
By Michael Reagan
My adoptive parents told me I was “chosen,” but the kids at school told
me I was a “bastard.”
The recent headlines about Arnold Schwarzenegger’s infidelities and the
son he fathered out of wedlock have stirred many old memories and
emotions.
I was four years old when I learned I was adopted. It was just before
my sister Maureen’s eighth birthday. I told her, “I know what you’re
getting for your birthday.”
“Don’t spoil the secret,” she said. “If you tell me, I’m going to tell
you a secret!”
Well, that was the wrong thing to say! I had to know what she was
keeping from me! I said, “You’re getting a blue dress for your
birthday.”
Maureen said, “And you were adopted.”
I ran off to find our mother, Jane Wyman, in the den. I asked her,
“What does ‘adopted’ mean?”
Mom’s eyes flashed dangerously. “Where did you hear that word?” she
asked.
After Mom finished dealing with Maureen, she sat me down and explained
adoption to me. “You are a chosen child,” she said, “and that makes you
special. We love you very much.”
I could tell that being “chosen” was a good thing. But I also realized
for the first time that Mom wasn’t my “real” mother -- that I had
another mother who had mysteriously given me away.
One day, when I was in the second grade, I got into a playground
argument with another boy. We took turns one-upping each other. “I’m
better than you,” I said. “I’m special ‘cause I was chosen! I was
adopted!”
The other boy didn’t know how to answer that, but the next day he came
back to school and laughed at me. “My parents told me what ‘adopted’
means,” he said. “You’re not special -- you’re a bastard! Your real
mother wasn’t married, so she gave you away -- bastard!”
That’s when I realized there was something horribly wrong with me. I
never again bragged about being “chosen,” and I never again felt
“special.” But I did feel marked.
I wondered, “Why did my birth mother give me away? Was it because I’m a
bastard?” I figured Mom couldn’t have known I was illegitimate or she
wouldn’t have adopted me. And I didn’t want her to find out!
When I returned home, I went to the library where Mom kept a huge
leather-bound Bible. She’d once told me that the Bible had all the
answers. I was seven years old and had never read the Bible on my own,
so I turned to the back of the Bible to see if there was an index. Sure
enough, I found the concordance.
I looked for the word “bastard” -- and there it was. The concordance
directed me to Deuteronomy 23:2, where I read: “A bastard shall not
enter into the congregation of the Lord; even to his tenth generation
shall he not enter into the congregation of the Lord.”
My heart froze. I thought those words meant, “A bastard can never go to
Heaven. A bastard is damned to Hell, and so are his kids and grandkids,
down to the tenth generation.”
I snapped the book shut -- and I didn’t open a Bible again for more
than 25 years. Of course, that verse had nothing to do with Heaven or
Hell -- but how could a seven-year-old understand such things?
I thought, “That’s why my birth mother got rid of me! Nobody wants a
child who’s going to Hell! And Mom’s so religious! If she finds out I’m
going to Hell, she won’t want me anymore!” So, at age seven, I began to
hate myself -- and God.
The story of my spiritual and emotional redemption is in my book “Twice
Adopted.” But the story I’m thinking about now is the painful story of
Arnold Schwarzenegger’s son.I keep hearing chattering heads on TV
referring to the boy as Schwarzenegger’s “illegitimate” son. It makes
my blood boil. Listen, there’s no such thing as an illegitimate child.
There are only illegitimate parents.
And Arnold, I hope you read this: Your son is not the bastard. You’re
the bastard. You’re the illegitimate parent.
I don’t say that to insult you. I say it for your own good. I say it
because you need to face these facts. You’ve been a bastard up till
now, but you can change that. You can man up. You can sit down with
your son, acknowledge him, apologize to him, admit that you failed him,
promise to love him, and begin to protect him from ridicule.
That boy is going to need a lot of love and affirmation from his
father. Why? Because the bastards in the media have gone after him,
publishing horrible, humiliating stories, putting his picture on the
Internet and subjecting him to ridicule at school.
Arnold, you’ve always played a hero in the movies. But now the whole
world knows it was just an act. How would you like to be a real hero
for a change?
It is time to stop being a bastard and start being a father.
Read it at Townhall
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