Lost Things

This weekend I lost a St. Patrick's Day earring and a comfortable illusion. Tonight, however, I'm reminded that there are much worse things to lose. Your life, like the soldiers I wrote about earlier. Or your son, as in The Changeling.

If you haven't seen it, The Changeling is the story of a mother whose kidnapped son is returned by the police many months later. The mother insists from the start that the boy is not her son, but the police, under intense media pressure, insist that they've solved the case. I haven't seen the rest and wouldn't want to spoil the ending, but the premise is heartbreaking.

Not as heartbreaking, however, as the story I heard recently on "This American Life" on NPR. Bobby Dunbar was another small boy who disappeared (in 1912) and was later "found" in the company of a drifter. Media reports of his reunion with the Dunbars varied. The article quotes were well-chosen for effect - the ones where the parents immediately recognized the child read like puff pieces, whereas the serious, news-like articles represented the parents' hesitation.

Tragically, another woman, Julia Anderson, stepped forward to claim the child. An unwed mother with several children by several fathers and without strong moral standing in the community, she lost her court case, and the boy was raised by the Dunbars. Imagine the agony of knowing where your kidnapped son is and not being able to take him home.

The tragedy is still echoing almost a century later. A Dunbar descendant found the old articles and began doing her own research. Against her family's wishes, she conducted DNA tests on her father and his putative cousin that proved Bobby Dunbar wasn't a Dunbar (and probably was Julia Anderson's son). Much of her family has disowned her.

Comparatively, I can't complain.