A Man from Nowhere

My older brother and I were born 13 months apart. My mother dressed the two of us in the same clothing to firstly prevent us from fighting over shirts, pants, and shoes and secondly to heighten the illusion that we were twins. She loved people asking that question and she would reply ‘Irish twins’ with pride, even though Yankees considered the term an insult or that “Irish Twins’ were siblings born within 11 months of each other.

My older brother and I accepted her dress code without question. We were born in the 1950s. Not only was silence golden, but children were better off seen, but not heard. The Sisters of Our Lady of the Foothills were of the same mind. My brother was a class ahead of me. I was a little taller. In our uniforms or altar boy outfits we still resembled each other to most people, but both of us could tell the difference. His hair was darker and my head was larger. For the earlier segment of my youth there was no question about our kinship, but as I grew older I rejected many of my family’s traditions and beliefs, most importantly the acceptance of God and somehow I doubted whether this family was actually my family, almost as if my real family had abandoned me at birth.

This confused state was the opposite of the Capgras delusion theory, in which according to Wikpedia ‘a person holds a delusion that a friend, spouse, parent, or other close family member has been replaced by an identical-looking impostor.’

I was the impostor and searched for the proof of my substitution. My birth certificate bore my name and the baby in the photos of the family album resembled me and no one else. I was who everyone said I was, but that is not the case for Barack Obama.

During the last gasps of Hillary Clinton’s presidential bid, her staffers released the rumor that her opponent had been born outside the USA and his citizenship came into question. This strategy was a failure. Barack Obama ran against Senator McCain, who was too much of a gentleman to use such underhanded tactics. A wise move to take the high ground, since the GOP candidate had been born in Panama, while his father was posted to the Canal Zone by the US Navy.

Over the past three years critics of the president have continued to challenge the validity of his Hawaiian birth certificate. These ‘birthers’ are the backbone of the Tea Party and a plurality of GOP supporters regarded Obama as a foreigner. Several state governments have actually introduced bills on the subject. The governor of Arizona vetoed such a proposal, however Donald Trump, the New York billionaire, has publicly expressed his discomfort with the POTUS’ nationality issue by demanding that the president produce his birth certificate.

My friend Ty Spaulding attended school in Hawaii with Barack and said to me, “He’s as American as you and me.”

We met in Nepal atop a Himalaya glacier.

Our opinions do not matter to birthers, but the State of Hawaii will provide proof of birth to anyone who asked for it. Only 26 people have asked for this document in the past three years. Donald Trump, Alabama Senator Richard Shelby, Missouri Congressman Roy Blunt, Ohio Republican congresswoman Jean Schmidt, Georgia Representative Nathan Deal, Sarah Palin, and former Speaker of the House Newt Gingrich have yet to visit Hawaii to take a look and CNN made it easy for Minnesota Rep. Michelle Bachman, who’s no relations to the beautiful Barbara Bachman by showing her the birth certificate.

The issue stays alive on talk radio, because no truth sounds better than a lie everyone wants to believe.

As for Obama he can only say his version of the truth.

“Just want to be clear – I was born in Hawaii.”

Like he had any idea where he was on the day of his birth.

My mother knew where I was back on that cold day in May of 1952.


An American through and through.

Until someone finds my Irish passport.

Then it’s Erin Go Bragh.

I do love my Guinness.

It’s certainly better for you than Budweiser.

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