I need to begin this post with a little background information. My dad isn't my biological father. My dad is, and always will be, my dad. He just is, no questions asked. He's raised me since I was three and I know no other way.

My brother, who is the son of my dad and my (biological) mom is just that, my brother. I never, never qualify him as "half-brother," unless I'm trying to explain this whole genetics/biology/why my parents are celebrating their 26th anniversary when I am 29 issue. He's just my brother, and that's that.

It really helps that I look a lot like my dad and my brother, so really the whole thing only comes up in very limited situations.

Anyway... obviously I am not the result of an immaculate conception, so there is this other man out there who contributed half of my genetic material. He and my mom divorced when I was a baby and he's never been any part of my life since then. (Or, from what I've heard, during that year much either.) But, he exists. I know his name and some very basic information about him... his hair and eye color, where his ancestors came from. I just look so much like my mom and her family, I was curious about his appearance, and he has a really unique last name, so I wanted to know where that was from. In my 29 years, I've never wanted or needed to know anything more. I already have a dad... I have never felt like I was missing anything because I don't know the man who contributed half my genetic material. This baffles some people, but it's true. He has never had a place or role in my life, so there's no void there that needs to be filled.

When I was 18, my mom told me that this man had been previously married and that I had three older half-siblings. She also told me their names. The reason she told me at this point was not because she thought, as an adult, it was time for me to know... it was because one of my half-sisters had tracked us down and contacted my mom looking for me. This of course freaked my mom out, because what if I had answered the phone and was like, ummm... who the hell are you? My mom told me it was my decision whether I wanted to be in contact with my half-sister. At that time, I decided I didn't, so my mom wrote her a letter, sent her a current photo of me, and that was that.

Within the past few years, I've started searching the internet for information on my half-siblings. Let me tell you, there is very little information about them out there. I figured out what state they likely lived in, but that was about it until a few months ago. Sometime last year, I discovered that my half-brother is on MySpace. I'd searched every few weeks or so on my half-sisters, but they never showed up... until two days ago.

It's funny... there they are, just a few clicks on a keyboard and an "enter" key away, but I still don't have any desire to make real contact. I don't plan to reach out to them now, or maybe even ever. I'm content just being able to read their pages and look at their photos and see what they are all about. (And trust me, they are very different than me.)

I think the strangest thing about all this so far is that, when I first found my half-brother, I knew immediately I'd found the right person... and not just because he has a pretty unique name. I saw his photo and it was just amazing... he looks like me. Well, except for the overweight and balding part, but there's just something about his expressions. His eyes. His nose... we have the same exact nose. This just all came as such a shock to me because I look so much like my mom and her family, I couldn't imagine a single feature I got from the other half of my genetics. And then there it was, right in front of me. It wasn't until last night that I came to the realization that he must just look so much like his dad.

I don't look so much like my half-sisters. One of them does the same squinty things with her eyes when she smiles. The other one just has one photo where she doesn't have much of an expression on her face at all, and actually, it's that expressionlessness that we have in common. I bet she's also told all the time to "smile!'" or "it's not that bad!" or asked "what's wrong?" and thinks, dude... it's just my face! Nothing's wrong!

So now, I have faces to names. I have faces that have the same nose as me, the same squinty eyes as me, the same expressionless expression that makes everyone think I'm sad when I'm not. And that's enough.

Posted by: Corey J Feldman | May 18, 2009 4:45 PM