OPINION | My father, the priest

BOSTON (MA)
Boston Globe

June 15, 2018

By James C. Graham

In 1993, during a meeting in Buffalo, N.Y., I learned that the man who had raised me was not my father and that the Rev. Thomas S. Sullivan, a priest from Lowell, likely was. After looking at the obituary and accompanying photo, there was no question in my mind that he was my father, since his facial features mirrored mine. But I never knew him, the result of a well-orchestrated scheme by the church to save its reputation during the conservative post-World War II era of the late ’40s.

Even though the revelation occurred nearly a half-century after my birth, I found the church was intent on disguising my origin; it stonewalled me for years. In my quest for transparency, I interviewed many of my father’s contemporaries from the Oblate order. They were shocked by my likeness to their old friend. However, in every case, they referred to my father as Tom Sullivan, never as “your father.”

Each meeting offered a bit of information about him; he was an eloquent speaker, an avid reader, a prolific writer, and witty. One priest asked, “Did you get the money for your education? We wanted to do the right thing.” When I said, “What money?” his facial expression twisted in anguish. At the end of a very revealing discussion, he offered this advice: “Forget the injustices of the past, you have good genes, get on with the rest of your life.” A few months later, I revisited the priest, who denied having said what he divulged in our first meeting.

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