When I was younger my parents told me and my sister that we possibly had a half brother and his name might be Eric. My dad had been married previously and when that relationship ended he married my mom not long after. One Father's Day his ex-wife sent him a card with a picture of a baby boy that just said "happy father's day from your son, Eric".
According to my dad, his ex-wife was not one to be trusted and he was sure it was just a ploy to get something out of him. He never heard from her or received any cards after that. Not knowing if it was real or not, my parent's always joked with my sister and I never to date anyone named Eric, because they could potentially be our brother!
I never thought much about it and always assumed it was just a lie anyway, that is until the Spicy Pickle.
Now mind you, I grew up in Oregon and this is where "Eric" would have been born and raised as well. So, being in Southern California, I wouldn't think I would just randomly stumble upon this mythical brother of mine.
I had been wanting to check out the Spicy Pickle that had just opened up next door to me and I took advantage of working from home and went there to get a late lunch. I was waiting in line and perusing the menu to decide what I wanted to eat, when I heard a customer at the counter talking about a tradition in his house at Christmas time of hiding a pickle on the tree. I found it interesting that he was sharing this tradition, because this has been a tradition in our house for as long as I can remember. It's a German tradition. Since I had already eavesdropped and heard his story, I couldn't help from injecting myself into his conversation, and telling him how my dad has done this for years.
He was intrigued by this, since anyone he had ever told that to, had always thought it was weird and had never heard of that tradition. This started a conversation between the two of us. Immediately, I thought he looked familiar, but I was sure I hadn't met him before. We sat down and started a conversation. He said his name was Eric and he was from Portland. Hmm, what a small world I thought. I told him I was from Oregon as well and I asked him if he was German, and if that is why they celebrated the pickle tradition. He said he believed he was part German, but he never knew his father, and his mother was not German but had learned the tradition and kept it going in their family.
As I was talking to him and staring at him more and more, I just couldn't get the thought out of my head that he was really familiar. It started to dawn on me that a lot of his features reminded me of my dad. In fact, he kind of looked like my dad in a picture of him from when he was in the military. Piecing information together...his name was Eric, he grew up in Oregon, didn't know his father but he was German, and the pickle tradition....could it be?? Was this really my brother?
I started to ask him more questions about his family. I told him I wasn't trying to be rude or overly personal, but I was curious about his father and what he knew about him. He said he didn't mind sharing, but he didn't know a whole lot. He said his mother told him that she found out she was pregnant after she divorced his father and that when he was born she had only made one attempt to let him know. He said he always asked his mom why she didn't try harder to make the connection, and that she always told him that his father wasn't the "father" type and that she thought he might be better off without him. Ouch, that's a harsh thing to say. If he really is my half brother, my dad was the best dad anyone could ever have. We were his life. Anyway, that's a sidetrack. I asked him if his mom ever told him any details about his dad and what he did or what his name was or anything. He said the only thing he knew was that he was a machinist by trade and lived in the country. That kind of sealed it for me, since my dad is a machinist.
I then revealed to him that when I was growing up that my mom and dad had told my sister and I a story of a possible half brother named Eric. I told him how my dad had been married before and that it wasn't a good marriage and they divorced, and not long after he received a card in the mail with a picture of a baby boy. I said "I think you might be that baby boy." He then told me that he did know that his father had two girls and that he might have sisters, but that his mom always told him that his father knew about him and didn't want anything to do with him. I told him that my father never knew it was real and because she only sent the one card, he never gave it any thought, and that I know my dad would have been part of his life if he knew it was real.
I took a picture of him with my cell phone and sent it to my dad, but given it's been 37 years since my dad ever thought about this issue, he was a little stunned to say the least. He said he really didn't believe it was true, but he wouldn't be opposed to talking to him if he wanted that. Eric said it was all a little much for him and that running into his potential sister in a Spicy Pickle just seems a little unreal. I couldn't agree more, but his story was too close to what I had been told and it seemed like it was highly plausible that he was indeed my brother.
We ended our conversation by exchanging numbers and I gave him my dad's contact info. We agreed to get together for lunch some time when this was all a little less confusing and weird.
I'm not sure how I feel about the idea of this brother really existing and how much it should be part of my life. It's confusing to say the least, especially with the chaos in my family right now with my sister. However, if there is anything I enjoy most about life, it's the unexpected twists and turns that keep it interesting.
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