Tag Archives: Adoption

On my being adopted.

The Proper Pronounciation of a Certain Surname…

Say that title fast five times!

A recent conversation on Twitter with several of my tweeps made me realize that most people out here on the Interwebs think my surname of “Rubright” is a fake or porn surname, and, most people definitely mispronounce it.

As much as I would *like* it to be my porn name, it is my real, legal surname. I should say it’s been my surname following my adoption when I was several months old. See:


The State-mandated Drivers License

I’ve heard all sorts of variations of pronouncing it, but it is properly pronounced “roo-brahyt”. “Roo” as in kanga, and “brahyt” as in, well, bright. I’ve also heard several off-collar ones as well, like “Rub-me-right” and “Rub-right” and “Rub-me-wrong”. You get the idea. The fun of growing up with a surname like that has always been… interesting.


My old name plaque from the OGRE. I kept it.

Rubright is one of several Americanized spellings for the original German of “Rubrecht” or “Ruprecht”. I’ve also seen it spelled as “Rhubright” and “RuBright”.

My father’s mother was big into genealogy. I went on several research trips with her to libraries scouring microfiche when I was younger. I don’t know how far back she got with her research, or what even happened to all that information after she died. I’m assuming one of her children ended up with it. But I could be wrong.

Not that I particularly care, as horrible as that sounds. It’s just a name. I am way more curious about my medical background than I am my surname’s history, of which I know absolutely nothing of.

There you have it, and now you know.

But I still pretty much answer to anything though.

Until next time...
Erik

On Being Adopted

This has come up several times in the last few days for me, so I take that as a sign to write about it.

I was adopted as an infant.

My parents thought they could not have children and after several years of trying with nothing to show for it, they opted to adopt.

All I know of my life before adoption is this:
– I was called “Baby Ambrose” by the sisters and nurses where I was kept;
– My first birth certificate lists no mother and no father;
– I was adopted through a Catholic Social Services center;
– The adoption records are sealed.

I was not told about my adoption by my parents. I found out about it on accident. As a preteen I was looking for my Social Security card and in the lock box with it was a copy of the adoption record. Let’s just say that discussion went “well” with my parents (the start of many…). I’m sure they had their reasons for not telling me, and at this point I don’t remember what they were or if they were even discussed. I haven’t asked again about it since then.

I once started down the road to find my biologicals. After discovering where the records where stored, I found out that both biologicals have to agree to have the record unsealed before I can be told anything. I would have to pay a large sum of money to start this process, with no guarantee or refund if neither biological wanted to remain anonymous. They also required a few months of counseling sessions before being told as well.

At that point I changed my mind. I’ve thought about it a few times—okay, more than a few—but just haven’t gone down that road again.

Sure I would like to know the answer to “Why?”, but is it really any of my business?

At this point in my life I am more interested in my medical history. What can I expect as far as genetic diseases and hereditary conditions? Hell, even how well do they age? Am I going to hit 40 my body just go “blah”? Is there a history of any kind of cancer I should be screening for now? All seemingly random questions that I think a lot of people take for granted.

And I’m curious about siblings—do I have a continuing blood-line out there or am I the last stop in my genetic lineage? Or a twin? There’s some speculation to that as well.

There are a few people who speculate that one of my biologicals is known to me already. Maybe time will tell.

Until next time...
Erik