SPARTANBURG HERALD-JOURNALMarch 30, 2008
Adopted man seeks biological parents
Closed records keep 4 brothers from knowing their roots
By Kim Kimzey
Kelvin Eaker and his brothers are looking for their biological parents, who could live in the Spartanburg area.
Kelvin Eaker likes to imagine what it will be like when he meets his mother for the first time.
The 34-year-old has gone through many scenarios in his head. In one, an old lady answers the door. Kelvin tells her, "You need to sit down, 'cause I've got something to tell you."
Kelvin just hopes she's happy to see him.
The Myrtle Beach resident is searching for his birth parents and thinks they might live in Spartanburg. He was born here June 25, 1973, but has no memory of his birth parents or the five or six foster homes he lived in before his adoption at age 3.
"I don't even have a last name to go by," he said.
He wants to know why he and his three brothers were given up for adoption. He also wants to know his family's medical history. And the scar on his back - where did that come from?
"I don't know if I was shot or stabbed," Kelvin said.
The quarter-sized scar was there when he and his three brothers were adopted the day before Valentine's Day 1976 - they call it "Gotcha Day" - by Hershel and Annie Eaker.
Kelvin's first name used to be Joey. Chad, born July 24, 1974, is the next oldest. His original name was Tony. Then there are the twins, Jonathan and Jason, once named Ronnie and Donnie. They were born Aug. 10, 1975.
Kelvin said he was about 15 years old when his adoptive parents told the boys they were adopted.
"I was shocked," he remembered. "I think we all were."
They were raised in Marion and later moved to Mullins, and their family was a tight-knit one.
"We had a real, real good life," Kelvin said.
Growing up, he and his brothers were typical, rambunctious boys who enjoyed baseball.
Kelvin has always liked to fish. He fishes off the piers at Myrtle Beach, where he moved a couple of years ago. He's divorced and said he was recently hired as a driver and stocker for Pepsi.
Chad lives in Latta and is a general foreman for a tree company. He now has a son of his own.
Jason still lives in Mullins and is a father to three daughters. Jonathan lives in Nichols and has two sons, 2 and 4 years old.
"It's amazing. It's just wonderful, having someone, a part of you," Jonathan said of fatherhood during a phone interview.
After Jonathan learned he was adopted, he said he changed.
He became angry and upset, but as he grew up, he realized what the Eakers did for him and his brothers.
"It takes wonderful parents to take kids in that weren't their own and love them," he said.
He wants his biological parents to know that he appreciates their decision, too.
"You couldn't have given us a better life than we have now," he said.
"We don't have no regrets or anything," Kelvin said.
Kelvin said his birth parents probably thought they were adopted separately.
He wants them to know "we're all together. We're doing OK. We want them to contact us."
Their adoptive father, Hershel, died two years ago. Kelvin said his father handled the details of the adoption.
Jonathan remembers his adoptive father telling him that his biological parents were young when he was born and that they did not have much money. Jonathan said his biological dad might be a car salesman.
Kelvin said their closed adoption was through the Department of Social Services.
It was a very closed time for adoptions, explained James Fletcher Thompson, a Spartanburg attorney whose practice covers adoption law.
"But the fact that it was a DSS case makes it even more closed," Thompson said.
He said children who are privately adopted have been voluntarily placed, but 97 percent of children placed for adoption through DSS have been abused, neglected or abandoned, or one of their siblings has.
Thompson said that might not be the case for the Eakers.
Kelvin said the lawyer who handled his adoption did not keep any files.
Thompson would not be surprised if the attorney who handled the case no longer has the records, since many attorneys dabbled in different areas of law years ago.
The courthouse, however, would still have the sealed records.
People adopted through DSS can register for the reunion registry. The adoptee must be at least 21 and apply in writing to DSS for information, according to Thompson. Adoptees and their biological parents can be reunited if both parties are willing to reveal their identities to each other, but it's unlawful for someone, such as an attorney or employee of a private adoption agency, to release information in adoption records.
Another possibility is registering for the International Soundex Reunion Registry, a nonprofit that matches people with their next of kin-by-birth.
In order to have the records unsealed, Thompson said Kelvin would have to request that a judge open the records based on good cause.
"You can find someone without their birth certificate, and that's often true, but it's certainly not always true. If you have a genuine need to know and you can't find, then this access becomes really much more critical," Adam Pertman said.
Pertman is executive director of the Evan B. Donaldson Adoption Institute, a national nonprofit that is a research, policy and education organization.
The institute released a report in November recommending in part that every state amend laws to restore adult adoptees unrestricted access to their original birth certificates.
Among the arguments against unsealing records is that it will increase the incidence of abortion and decrease adoptions, Pertman said in a phone interview.
"The thinking is, if you don't allow women this lifelong anonymity, maybe they'll have an abortion instead of carrying the child to term and placing them for adoption," Pertman said.
Eight states now have open records.
"In the states that have unsealed these records, the adoption rate appears to be going up, rather than down," Pertman said.
"People really do want to have this sense of fulfilled identity, to know that they started at Point A, and not at Point B, i.e., Point B being adoption, A, birth," Pertman said.
"I have way too many e-mails in my files of adoptees who really need medical information and they just can't get it," he said.
Thompson said South Carolina is trending toward openness in adoption.
A bill introduced last year in the state Senate would allow adoptees 25 and older access to non-identifying health and medical histories of their biological parents. That bill was sent to a Senate judiciary subcommittee on Jan. 11, 2007, and has remained there.
Meanwhile, Kelvin's search continues.
"I just don't want to give up," he said.
Despite all the questions about his past, of one thing Kelvin is certain: "Somebody's got to know something."
"You don't just give up four boys and forget about it," he said.
Kelvin welcomes calls from Herald-Journal readers who might be able to help him find his parents. Call Kelvin at 843-455-5738 or contact his friend Jason Layton at 843-602-3404.
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