When I was 12 or 13, I don't remember exactly, my dad told me that I had a half brother. My father was married before he met my mom. He had two kids with his first wife, a girl who died soon after she was born, and a boy, ten years older than I. I was told that I couldn't tell anyone about it. I don't know why. It always seemed to me as though my parents felt that my father's divorce was a shameful thing that had to be kept hidden.
I've been fascinated by the thought of my unknown brother ever since. What was he like? Was he nice? Funny? Was his life happier, better, richer, than mine? I bugged my dad for all of the information I could get. He showed me a small scrapbook he keeps. In it is every picture, save the one in his wallet, of Clint that he ever had. Clint once attended a "Hell House" in his teens and was interviewed about it. My father clipped the article and kept it in his scrapbook. He also has the graduation program from Arvada High School, where he though Clint would have graduated from. He showed up at graduation, but Clint was not there. Once the wonder of the internet came around, my dad searched the web for any mention of a Clinton McClung. He painstakingly printed each one and put them in his book. I asked my dad once why he hadn't contacted him. He said that Clint's mom wouldn't let him see him when he was younger, and that my dad was too scared of the rejection to seek him out after he turned 18.
I too searched the internet for Clint as soon as I was old enough to figure out how. I thought I found his phone number once and wanted to call, but my mom talked me out of it. I think she too was afraid that Clinton would reject my dad. Off and on for years, I'd try to find him, never sure if I had the right guy or not. Recently, I was up late one Saturday night messing around on the internet, when I decided to search again. I googled Clinton McClung and came across a DJ at an independent New Jersey radio station. I found the radio station's website, and from there found Clinton's profile on MySpace. Before I could change my mind, I quickly sent him a message via MySpace. I tried to keep it light and goofy, the gist of which was:
I think you might be my half-brother. You've certainly got the quirky sense of humor. If you are as uncoordinated as hell and spit when you talk, you might be the offspring of Dennis McClung. Don't feel bad, there's three more of us.
I then went on to mention that a picture on his profile greatly resembled one in my father's wallet and inquired if his mother's name was Cindy.
After sending it, I patiently waited for a response. (That's a lie. I was DYING to hear back.) I checked his profile every few days to see if he had logged back in. I saw on the 18th that he had logged in on the 12th, but didn't respond. I told myself, my husband and my mom that I was okay with him not responding. I understand that he might have a very different view of my dad than I do. I lied. I mean, I'm personally fine with the choice that he might make to respond, or not. He has every right to not want any kind of relationship. I respect that. I'm not fine with it. I've always wanted to know him, always hoped for something, some kind of connection. After viewing his MySpace profile, and reading his blog, I felt like we had a lot in common. I'm not fine, I'm disappointed.
