Love Makes A Family – Part X - We Are Family

One would like to think that the process which determines how the lives of Wards of the Court will unfold is there to protect them and insulate them from the slings and arrows of the circumstances that put them into their predicament. Of course, that would assume that a government agency has a heart and the requisite feelings that we assign to humans. There are, no doubt, many well intentioned humans working for the system, but the system is in charge and laws control its every decision. Wards of the courts are provided for by the most economical means possible until they reach the age of 18; no more, no less. At 18 you are no longer a ward. You are on your own. You don’t get a degree or certificate or $200 for passing “go”, or get an out of jail free card. You are now legally an adult. Have a nice life. The county thanks you for your participation, please drive through.

Mike and I just could not envision the girls being stuck in that “maturing process” while we dutifully visited for the next 3 years. We really wanted more than anything to convince the court that we had every intention of doing a better job than the system could do. Luckily for us, we live in a very progressive state where the laws are a teensy bit less discriminatory. Actually, California was light years ahead of other states in this area of human rights. It was 1987, which to me, doesn’t seem that long ago, but Mike and I became a pilot program for the LA county foster care system, without our ever knowing it. We were the first male, same sex couple that was going to be granted a foster care license. We got the word and the final road map from the county in June. If we followed it and passed all the mile markers, we would have Cari and Anna in our new home just in time to enroll them at Chatsworth H.S. for the fall term.

They were going to allow us to take the girls on overnight visits to West Hills, where we lived. There were some very unusual conditions set on these visits. Our application for a foster care license was just for these two specific girls. Yet even with the preliminary approval they had given, the L.A. County licensing board was antsy about granting a foster care license for two adult males who would be providing care for two adolescent girls. Someone in the department, thinking way outside the box, thought “What if they are not really gay and they just want to set up a situation where they can prey on young girls”? I suppose their over cautiousness should be expected since the LA County child protective services staff have witnessed some very twisted acts. Obviously we still had to go through a vetting process so they could feel comfortable that we would provide a “stable home environment”, but come on! We’re gay; they are girls! I mean, really?!?

So, for the visitations to our neck of the woods, the girls could spend all day with us, but had to spend the nights at Mike’s sister Betty’s house. LA County had interviewed Betty and her husband Dave, and their 22 year old son Jerry, toured their house, and given them the stamp of approval as a normal heterosexual household. It seemed strange to us that they thought two young girls would be safer from possible sexual malfeasance in a home with two adult, straight males that had never met them, than they would be with two gay men who were completely changing their lives in order to give them a home. How does that make any sense? It's the system. You have to go with it.

To be fair, I think the county’s concern was that the girls have a female to turn to during the transition. I suppose that was a legitimate concern. But if we were going to be getting the girls eventually, the issue of a female influence was going to be moot. There would be no adult female living with us. We had already tried to reassure the two involved counties that Mike’s two local sisters, Betty and Patty were totally on board with the effort and would be there for Cari and Anna. Betty and Dave were a few blocks to the north and Patty and Bob were a few blocks to the south and both just a phone call away. The fact that we had this extended family available may have been a bigger factor in the counties decision than we knew.

Over the next few months Mike and I went to Santa Barbara every week-end to bring the girls back to the San Fernando Valley. Even though the house was almost ready to move in we weren’t allowed to keep the girls in our house overnight until that final inspection happened. They continued to sleep at Betty and Dave’s, about 2 miles from us. The girls would spend many hours hauling out dry wall, painting, and going to thrift stores looking for room décor over the next few weeks.

After many more trips to SB and jumping through many bureaucratic hoops, we finally had our inspection. We passed! We were the first male same sex foster parents granted a license in LA county. In the evening, on August 26th, 1987 one of the many social workers involved in our case delivered the girls to our house. He stayed for just a few minutes to let us know he would be the one doing periodic and drop in inspections. He congratulated us and wished us good luck.

After he walked out we all stared at each other for a few seconds in silence. It was a moment frozen in time. Had this actually happened. Were Mike and Cari and Anna and I alone in our home and about to enter the biggest roller coaster ride of human existence; family life? I am sure the social worker was barely off the porch before he heard the uproar from inside, which I know sounded like a party at which the favorite team had just scored a touchdown in the Super Bowl with no time on the clock. There was a lot of jumping, yelling, hugging, laughing and running around; followed by Cari and Anna just walking in and out of their rooms and looking at everything and looking at us with the wonder of a newborn in their expression. That night our adventure as a family unit began in earnest.

The girls started school four days later and in the coming months and years we were introduced to parent/teacher conferences, tap shoes, drill uniforms, football boosters, Depeche Mode, Guns N Roses, boy trouble, prom dresses (loved this part), Algebra II (not so much), and eventually caps and gowns.

The social worker only did one more follow up visit. He had dinner with us and after interviewing the girls in private he told us, “I see no point in coming back. You guys have made a safe, happy home. Anna and Cari give you two thumbs up. I gave them my card and here’s one for you.”

We did it. We beat the odds. We had been through a trial by fire that lasted two years. We were four people who came together under extraordinary circumstances, from three very different families and backgrounds. No logic could explain why or how our paths all crossed. It is one of those inexorable mysteries of the human condition. We weren’t related by blood or family lines, but we learned something about life and families. Blood and inheritance don’t make a family. Love Makes A Family.