33 years later, a phone rings; it's her late brother
(from the Milwaukee Journal Sentinel - March 5, 2005)

Barbara Ross got a phone call the other day from the brother she thought had died at birth.
"He came out of the blue," she said.
Steve Leger resurfaced thanks to help he received from two Milwaukee librarians who put the finishing touches on the search for his birth family.
Barbara was a child when her mother, unmarried and financially strapped, got pregnant.
"I went to camp and came home and she wasn't pregnant anymore. She was very upset and she said the baby had died. Being 11, you're not going to question that," said Barbara, now 45 and living in Shorewood. She manages group homes for a living.
But what Betty Bourgeau had done was give the baby up for adoption.
It was 1971. That baby was Steve, now 33, who was adopted by a Milwaukee police officer and his wife, Ken and Rita Leger.
They told him from the start that he was adopted, and when he was about 16 they added that he also had a sister out there somewhere.
Steve, who works at an electronics store and lives in Arizona where his parents retired, searched on and off for years for his mother. She died before he was able to learn who she was, but he's now getting to know his lost sister.
"I have felt euphoric and whole in a way I never thought I would," he wrote in a letter to City Librarian Kate Huston to thank her and the two librarians who handled his hourlong telephone call last month.
"I feel as though I have been given back an arm I had amputated 33 years ago."
Betty Bourgeau was separated and headed toward divorce from her husband, Barbara's father, when she began seeing another man in Milwaukee and became pregnant.
"I think she was humiliated that she was in this position," Barbara said. "She was a Christian person, and this obviously was not good."
"It was a financially impossible time for us," Barbara said, plus her mother had a rare blood disorder and was unable to work. But she volunteered at shelters and food pantries.
She chose adoption rather than try to raise two children under these circumstances. She remained a loving mother to Barbara but broke up with Steve's father after six years.
Meanwhile, Steve grew up near 24th and Grange and graduated from Martin Luther High School and later UWM. He's since learned that he lived for a while several blocks from his sister and attended UWM while she was there.
In 2001, Steve got serious about obtaining records from his adoption and finding his birth family. He obtained "non-identifying" social history information, meaning the names had been crossed out.
In July 2001, he got a letter from Milwaukee County social worker Vicki Sosnay saying, "I am happy to inform you that I did receive a court order releasing your impounded birth certificate. Your birth name was Soule Jacobs Bourgeau."
That same month he received another letter saying his mother had died of cancer at age 52 in 1990, but Sosnay could not provide her name.
"I felt a lot of guilt about that, that I didn't find her when I could have," Steve said.
In January of this year, Steve went to a therapist because of a painful breakup with a girlfriend. She kept coming back to his adoption and told him to write a letter to his late mother.
"This letter is 33 years overdue," the letter begins. "But I have some things to talk to you about. I love you, Mom. I wish I had the chance in this lifetime to hug you and express my gratitude for your sacrifice."
The letter brought thoughts of family back to the forefront and prompted him to call the Milwaukee Public Library. He explained to librarians Judi Gloyer and Brian Williams-Van Klooster that he knew the year of his mother's death and two possible names, Jacobs and Bourgeau.
His quest touched Gloyer. "I'm a mother," she said, and she had to help him find out about his. Searching a Wisconsin death index, she found a Betty Bourgeau who died Feb. 4, 1990. Williams-Van Klooster then searched newspapers on microfilm and found her death notice, which yielded the names of Barbara Ross, Barbara's daughter Amanda, and other relatives.
The day Steve called Barbara turned out to be the 15th anniversary of their mom's death.
He unwittingly frightened Barbara when he called and asked her name and then asked if she had a daughter named Amanda Marie. By then he was starting to cry, and Barbara was thinking he was calling to say something had happened to Amanda at college.
She knew he was for real when he spoke his birth name, which she had heard her mother say. "I believe I'm your brother," he said.
Her birthday was three days earlier. "To me, he's my gift. He was a gift from Mom. She decided her kids had to be together."
Late last week, Steve was still in the process of contacting his birth father, who lives in Milwaukee. And after exchanging many calls and e-mails with Barbara, he plans to visit her around Easter.
He's coming back again in August when Barbara, a widow, gets married again.
Barbara grew up saying she wanted a brother, and Steve said he always wanted a sister.
So it's a happy ending. And beginning.

01/21/2006

Author's Note: Following that article, I reunited with my biological father, three more sisters, and more nephews than I can sometimes recall. I also discovered the true spelling of my biological grandfather's name, Soulo Jacob. I know some of you have read this, but I just wanted to add it to my library. The link to the original story w/ our pictures is on my main page.

Posted on 01/21/2006
Copyright © 2024 Soulo Jacob Bourgeau