THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1996, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Sunday, September 29, 1996 TAG: 9609290038
SECTION: LOCAL PAGE: B1 EDITION: FINAL
TYPE: Column
SOURCE: Elizabeth Simpson
LENGTH: 62 lines
Dollye Jackson is looking for the father of her children, but not for the usual reasons.
She doesn't want to ask him about child support. He's been sending monthly checks faithfully for more than a decade now. She doesn't want to ask about medical benefits. The children are already on his military insurance. She doesn't want to complain that his payments are late. Because they're always on time.
What she wants is something that money can't buy and the law can't require: a relationship between her children and their father.
``They have never really seen him,'' said Jackson, who lives in Selma, Ala. ``They know they have a father, but they don't know anything else about him.''
Jackson called me the other day in an effort to find her children's father. Because his payments come to her through the Alabama child support office, she doesn't know his phone number or address, but she thinks he still lives in this area.
She's a little worried that the father might think she's trying to track him down for herself and not their 13-year-old daughter, Khalilah, and 15-year-old son, Kameo. ``I want them to know each other, even if it's just through a phone call.''
Her search got my attention because it drives home the fact that child support is not just a dollars-and-cents issue. Being a father or a mother isn't just about paying the bills.
Khalilah and Kameo told me what they could when I asked what they know about their father.
``Ummmm,'' said Khalilah as she tried to think of something to say. ``He was in the Navy.''
Then Kameo.
``I know that he was in the Navy, and that he's in Virginia, but I don't know where,'' he said. ``And that's all.''
That's not a lot to go on.
They also have three photographs of their father that he mailed to them about four years ago, with no return address. He wrote something on the back of the photos for each child.
``To Khalilah, from your Daddy. I love you very much and I hope you are doing well in school.'' And, ``To Kameo, from your Daddy. I love you very much. I told your Mom to work with you on school work because I love you a lot.''
Dollye said the father called once three years ago while he was overseas to ask about some paperwork on their children's insurance. But it was 5 in the morning and Dollye didn't want to wake the children so they could talk with him.
She wishes she had now. Because between then and now, she's come to realize how much her children want to know their father. But now that he's retired from the Navy, she doesn't know where he lives. She knows his name but I'm not going to include it here, in case he'd rather not be found.
The memories Jackson can recall of her children's father are getting worn. She's gone over with them the farewell scene when Jackson decided to move from Virginia to Alabama in 1982. Kameo was almost 2 and Khalilah just a baby.
``I know you don't remember,'' she tells her children. ``But he hugged and kissed both of you.'' They exchanged letters for a while but then lost touch.
Now she's hoping it's not too late for the father to touch base with his children so they can have some memories of their own. by CNB