One Sunday, while on Facebook, I was befriended by someone with the same last name. It piqued my curiosity so I explored his page and discovered a "Mahone" family reunion coming up in August. How cool, I thought since I've never been to a family reunion on my father's side. But first, I had to confirm that I was related to this group of Mahones.

What I discovered in the hours following that had my head spinning and left more questions than answers.

I called my cousin in Maryland. She dropped a bombshell. My dad wasn't really a Mahone because the man I had known as "Grandpa Joe" wasn't really his father or my grandfather. Joseph Mahone apparently died about six weeks after my Uncle James was born---and my Uncle James was born nine years before my dad was born.

I will admit that about 30 years ago my Uncle James did mention something about him raising my daddy because he didn't have a daddy but Uncle James liked to drink so I heard what he said but wasn't really listening.

The journalist in me now wishes I had been doing more than listening and that I had grilled him on what the truth was.

I have no idea what my daddy knew or didn't know because he never talked about a father. Whatever he did know he took with him to his grave when he passed away in 1983.

That secret and whatever lies are associated with my dad's birth have also been buried with my grandmother and her siblings because they are all now dead as well.

What in the world could've been going in in 1925-26?