Canned Goods: Happy Homecoming Day!

A typical "apartment building" in Ukraine. This one has "Nirvana Cool" graffiti on the side.

Two years ago today, Pa and I stood in a stuffy, crowded hallway of a courthouse in Donetsk, Ukraine. We were among several teenage hoodlums and various miscreants waiting to be heard by a judge. To pass the time, Pa played chess on his mobile.

The orphanage lawyer--I shall call him "Skippy"--lustily eyed Pa's phone. It just so happened, after the judge heard and approved our case, that he screwed up Mr. Na's name on the paperwork and wasn't going to go back and change it, despite numerous requests. "I like phone," he said in English. "It is Smart Phone, yes?" Pa handed Skippy the phone to have a look--but there would be no negotiations for it--no deals to be struck in exchange for fixing the one little fuck-up on our new son's adoption decree. Not only was this stupid, yet highly-coveted phone property of Pa's employer, there was no way the little weasel was going to get it in exchange for fixing his mistake.

"You can change his name back in Seattle," my translator reassured me. I nodded, still a little fazed from what had just transpired: the approval of our request to adopt a child and giving my utmost assurances to the judge that we would take care of this child forever--all overshadowed, for a moment or two, by this asshole who had the nerve to ask for Pa's phone in order to make one tiny, yet hugely significant change. Once Skippy realized Pa wasn't going to deal, he said to us, "It's much better this way anyway. I don't like (Mr. Na's new name)."

As we got back into our driver's car, my translator handed me a gift of three lillies. In Ukraine, the custom is to give an odd number of flowers as an even number signifies bad luck. I smiled, still a little shellshocked at the prospect of being a brand-new parent to a 19 month-old boy. I think I stayed that way for at least a month after we returned to Seattle--shellshocked, sleep deprived and in slight disbelief. Over time, though, I settled in very comfortably with parenthood and watched my son grow from a little sickly child with rickets to a handsome, healthy and clever 3.5 year-old whom I love more and more every day. Despite that minor setback in Ukraine, Mr. Na's name was legally changed the following November when we readopted him in our local county courthouse.

I bring this part of the story up--certainly not to put a damper on this day--just to recount the facts because our adoption wasn't all wine and roses; but all things considered, that was the worst of it. In fact, my hope is that when we go back some time next year to adopt another little one, the process will be a smooth as the one we experienced with Mr. Na.

Oh, and I'll be bringing that phone next time--since I inherited it; but you can bet I won't be playing chess in the hallway of the courthouse!