Meeting Grandpa & Sally
As many in my hometown know, I was adopted into the McCulley family at the age of seven. I was the oldest of five children born into a home where both of my biological parents were blind. Later, I would learn that I also had two half-sisters from my mother’s previous marriage.
Growing up, I carried a deep desire to one day find my biological siblings. That search began shortly after my marriage to Becky in 1974. We visited the adoption agency, hoping to learn their whereabouts, but were told that the records were sealed by law. However, they explained that if another family member ever made a similar inquiry, they would contact me and arrange a meeting.
In 1986, that moment finally came. (read letter here)
I received a letter from the agency dated March 13, 1986—the same day as my adopted father Kenneth McCulley’s 60th birthday. It informed me that a grandparent had contacted them, asking about the children who had been placed for adoption. The letter referenced my earlier inquiry and asked if I was willing to meet.
“Willing” hardly described it. I had been waiting for this day since 1962.
Joyful Reunion
On March 27, 1986, Becky, our daughter Jennifer, and I drove to Ottumwa, Iowa, to meet the grandfather mentioned in the letter—and to learn more about my biological family. (Ottumwa Courier Article)
We were shown into a front room and waited only a short time before an older couple entered. As I looked at the man, I immediately noticed a resemblance—features that felt familiar. A memory surfaced of a man bringing me a birthday cake and a small western-style billfold on my seventh birthday. I believed this was him.
After a few moments, I spoke up and said that I believed we were the ones they were there to meet. The man introduced himself as Lawrence Albertson and his wife, Virginia. He later explained that Virginia was not my biological grandmother; he had been divorced from my grandmother, Doris.
After some conversation, Lawrence suggested we go out to eat. Before leaving, we briefly spoke with the director of the American Home Finding Association, who mentioned that legislation had narrowly failed in the Iowa Senate that would have allowed adult adoptees access to sibling information.
What I remember most from that evening is one simple statement from Lawrence: my younger sister, Sally, lived in Ottumwa.
Everything else faded into the background. I wanted to see my sister.
That very night, around 9:00 PM, Lawrence and Virginia took us to Sally’s apartment. There, I met the little sister I had not seen in 23 years.
It was an unforgettable reunion.
For the next three weeks, we were inseparable—calling or visiting each other every single day. I have kept every card she ever sent me from that time until the day she passed.
Tragedy Strikes
On the evening of November 3, 1986, while working as a police officer in Oskaloosa, I was asked by dispatch to return home. When I arrived, Becky met me at the door with devastating news.
My grandfather had called.
Sally had been killed in an explosion and fire at her boyfriend’s residence.
Her daughter, Amiebrook, had fortunately not been there that night. Sally’s remains were later identified through dental records.
I called Lawrence immediately, and he confirmed everything.
The explosion had occurred the night before, November 2, around 9:40 PM. It was so powerful it was reportedly heard miles away. The incident quickly became a criminal investigation due to the nature of the fire.
We watched the news coverage later that night, trying to grasp what had happened.
Saying Goodbye
On November 7, 1986, I attended the funeral of the sister I had only known for eight short months after being separated for 23 years.
Standing there, it was hard not to feel the weight of everything that had been lost—what could have been, what she would never experience, and what my own children would never know beyond stories.
At the funeral, I spoke with several individuals who had seen Sally in the days leading up to the explosion. Some described her as troubled, others as unusually quiet. There were signs that things were not right, though no one could have predicted the outcome.
Investigators later indicated that the fire was intentional. In time, I was told that Sally may have been involved in the act that ultimately took her life.
That truth was difficult to accept.
Reflection
I want to be clear: I loved my sister deeply. What happened does not change that.
But I also understand that our beginnings were marked by instability, and the choices we make in life carry consequences. In Sally’s case, those choices led to hardship—and ultimately, tragedy.
She was only 27 years old.
What remains with me are the memories we were able to create in those brief weeks together, and the hope I quietly carried for years that her daughter might one day reach out—if only to say hello.
For those who have been adopted, the longing to connect with lost family may be familiar. What I never fully understood, however, was the lack of response from some within my adoptive family. When I shared the news of finding Sally, the reaction I received was little more than polite acknowledgment.
But for me, it was so much more.
It was the answer to a lifelong search—and, ultimately, a reunion that came too late and ended too soon.
Personal Notes
I found my sister Sally (Elaine Dudley) on Thursday, March 27, 1986, at approximately 9:00 p.m. at her residence in Ottumwa, Iowa. This came about after I had received correspondence by mail from the American Home Finding Association on Tuesday, March 4, 1986, at the residence of my mother and father in New Sharon, Iowa.
After receiving the correspondence from the American Home Finding Association, I contacted Mr. Tom Lazio with the association and expressed my desire to move forward and arrange a meeting with a grandfather that he had made reference to in his letter to me on March 4, 1986. A meeting was arranged for Thursday, March 27, 1986, at 4:00 p.m. at the American Home Finding Association, 217 East Fifth Street, Ottumwa, Iowa.
On Thursday, March 27, 1986, at 4:00 p.m., my wife Becky and daughter Jennifer arrived at the home and took a seat in the lobby area after making our arrival known to the receptionist. Shortly thereafter, we observed an elderly couple entering the administration building through the back entrance. Immediately after making visual contact with the couple, it was apparent to me that the couple just arriving was the grandfather who had requested the meeting. His physical characteristics were quite similar to those of mine. (I felt that this was the grandfather that I had remembered as a 7-year-old boy coming to the home, bringing me a birthday cake and a billfold as a present. The billfold was a western-style boy’s wallet with a zipper closure.)
The gentleman and his female companion sat across the room from Becky, Jennifer, and myself. We sat there (I’m sure wondering within ourselves if these were the people that we had come here to meet) and exchanged glances, and I whispered to my wife that I believed that was the grandfather that I had been expecting to meet.
After a few moments, I stood up from the divan that we were sitting on and strolled across the lobby to the picture window overlooking the backyard that I remembered playing in as a child. (It looked so small now, but at the time I was first placed there it looked so large.) I commented to Becky at that time that the backyard looked quite small to me now and shortly returned to my seat beside my wife.
Upon getting the desired response from the other couple, it was first the female who spoke up and started to say something to me. I interrupted, as I recall, and said something to the effect of, “I think we’re the ones that you are waiting to meet.” From there on, our relationship with them began to build.
The elderly man came over to me and, addressing me as “Dickie,” said that he was Lawrence Albertson and the woman was his wife, Virginia Albertson (although this was through a subsequent marriage, which he later explained). We talked for a half hour or so, and finally a suggestion was made by Lawrence to go and get a bite to eat.
We spoke shortly with Tom Lazio, who advised us that legislation had just narrowly failed in the Senate regarding making it mandatory for adult adoptees to be able to get information on their adopted siblings if they so desired. He expressed his support for the passage of this legislation. He also requested that each of us write him a letter in a couple of weeks (of which I had not fulfilled as of this writing—May 5, 1986) and let him know how it all worked out and our feelings about the meeting, etc.
It shall be noted here (added 12/13/86) that from the time that I met Elaine Dudley (Sally), we spent considerable time together. I met her at her residence on Mary Street, Ottumwa, Iowa, east of town on Highway 34. It was a happy occasion. I have a photograph of that night together after 23 years or so of being apart.
We either called each other or went to see each other for three weeks or so, never missing a day. I had numerous opportunities in which to share my faith with her. She was very receptive. I simply told her how God had changed my life and how He could change her life also if she would only surrender her life to Him.
We spent a lot of time together at Vanderwilt Park in Oskaloosa, many times during which she cried very hard. She was a very insecure individual. I was hoping all along that this was a timely meeting in which I could help her, as someone had helped me when I was lonely and confused.
I have never interceded for anyone in my lifetime as I did for her. I pray that it was profitable. According to Sally, she had been married twice and was currently going through her second divorce. She also introduced me to her boyfriend, Chris York (the individual that I hold responsible for her death through his manipulation of her to accomplish his selfish and foolish dreams).
I was very unimpressed from our first meeting and hold myself at fault for never expressing to her how I really felt about her relationship with him. I guess that I was afraid of being rejected by her, something that I could not bear to think about.
Much more could be said in more detail about our times together, but I believe that what has been said should suffice. I loved her dearly, and that is the end of the thing. She meant a great deal to me, and I’ll always wonder, until I meet my Lord, what I did wrong and if I could have prevented her from wandering down that trail that ultimately led to her death.
Arson Charges . . .
