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Letter to the editor

A gift where none was

Life was already hard on Johnie when he found the vacant spot under his tree.

By KINFAY MOROTI
Published December 25, 2004

LARGO - Marian Findeison loves remembering Christmases past. Especially joyous ones.

But this is what she remembers most:

A son's faith in a careless father. An unkept promise. And a forgotten Christmas gift that spoiled bloodlines while awakening love.

Findeison, 89, still sees tears welling in the eyes of her adopted son, Johnie, that Christmas 50 years ago.

Today, a computer and an absence of pill bottles in her apartment at Pinecrest Place Retirement Community reveal that Findeison is busy living. But now it's Christmas again, so Findeison eases off life's throttle. On Sunday, she's going to her youngest son's house in Tierra Verde to celebrate with six of her seven children, and their children, and their children.

Johnie is picking her up.

Johnie Ray St. Clair wasn't always picking people up. He was too busy being knocked down. Born in West Virginia, Johnie and his two older sisters were abandoned by their parents when Johnie was 5.

"My mother and father fought all the time. And when my mother caught him with another woman, she left and took us with her," he recalls. "She tried to care for us, but the state said she was mentally unfit." The state of West Virginia declared her negligent. "So they took us from her. My father vanished."

Forced to live in Virginia orphanages, Johnie was beaten with broomsticks and pummeled with clenched fists. Knots and bruises hung on him like Purple Hearts. Even the weather was cruel. It made him sick.

Relief came when a private adoption agency in St. Petersburg offered to place him with one of its foster parents.

Johnie's sisters wouldn't be coming along. Their father had suddenly reappeared and was talking redemption.

"My sisters wanted me to stay and give my father another chance. They wanted me to reach out to him," he says.

But it was a good time to leave. Bill and Marian Findeison were waiting for the young stranger with open arms. Johnnie, then 13, left.

"My life took off for the better when I got to the Findeison's. There were four other foster kids and their two children there. But they were really nice," says St. Clair.

His mental and physical bruises healing, Johnie decided to reach out to his biological father over the next two years. "I still don't know why I wrote my father those letters. I guess I wanted to know if he loved me. Or maybe I did it to keep in touch with my sisters," he says.

His father reached back with a promise. He would buy his son the gold Bulova watch Johnie had written about in his last letter.

The Findeisons were skeptical. Johnie's father wasn't a promise keeper. However, they remained silent and prayed. But Johnie's new siblings didn't hold their tongues.

"They laughed and said yeah right, but I believed him," St. Clair says.

The decorated tree stood tall on Christmas morning 1954, even though short presents stood under it. Johnie was up early that morning. Anticipation has a way of making children awaken.

Walking across concrete floors to the tree, he looked for the promised gift. Moments later he lay in bed weeping. Broken promises have a way of making children tired.

"Seeing Johnie in that bed crying was chilling," Marian Findeison says. "Everyone in the house was heartbroken. It was so sad."

Johnie's siblings didn't tease. Silently they cursed his biological father.

The memory brings tears again for St. Clair, 65. "He found a way to hurt me even from afar," St. Clair says.

Later, when Evelie, one of the Findeison's children, spied a postman carrying a small brown box, she raced outside. Before looking at the address, she remembers praying: "Please be for Johnie. Please be for Johnie."

Standing in Johnie's doorway, Evelie wept. "I'm sorry Johnie. It's addressed to me."

Heartache can't be contained by four walls. The next day, Johnie's foster father told friends of his son's pain. Three Southern Baptist deacons gave love a try. They pooled their money and bought Johnie the gold Bulova.

"It was great. My family (and) Deacons (John) Bowen, (Marion) Mitchell and (John) Chamberlin made my Christmas," says St. Clair, who now lives in Clearwater.

Today, his wife, Pat, will make Johnie's Christmas. She has bought the man who already owns 15 watches, including a Rolex, one more. A Fossil, with a brown leather band.

[Last modified December 24, 2004, 23:25:15]