Hello Native adoptees

I found this forum a couple days ago, and have been reading some of the old threads. This doesn't seem to be a very active forum, but I decided to register and introduce myself anyway. I feel like I belong in this forum; no matter what I may ever discover about my or my birth parents' identity, I feel from the participants in this forum that here is one place, definitely, where I belong--among those who wonder where we belong! I was born in 1960, in Spokane at St. Luke's overlooking the river. My adopting parents lived just a couple blocks away. I've had almost 50 years with a great family, lots of love and support, nothing to complain about, no rational reason in the world to want more. And yet...here I am reading posts in an adoption forum. What's that about? What the heck is this about! I've known as long as I can remember that I was adopted, as was my older brother. I learned that I was "part" Alaska Native at age 11, when I was enrolled in Sealaska Corp. following passage of ANCSA in 1971. The paperwork included the name of a village. Fast forward 27 years, my wife gives birth to our daughter, the first "real" relative I'd ever met. A few more years and a son is born; meanwhile Sealaska is debating including shareholders' descendents, with blood quantum requirements. Blood quantum? I dunno. Adoption agency knows. Nice lady at agency knows lots of things: birth mother's first name, aunts' and uncles' names, grandparents' names. Type all into Google along with village name, and now I know last names. More Googling provides an archive photo of grandfather in a Salvation Army band! Wow. An aunt's obituary, an uncle's obituary.... I could enroll in the tribe, myself and my kids, if I had a Certificate of Indian Blood. A CI was ready to help. then my adopting Dad had to have open heart surgery, and it seemed an inauspicious time to pursue. That was about two years ago. Two weeks ago, we took the kids to the tribe's local chapter Culture Fair to learn a little about our lost heritage. I thought it would be fun to attend the Tlingit language presentation; maybe learn to say 'Hello" and "Thank you" and "Nice weather today" or stuff like that. It was mortifying. The lesson turned out to be: How to properly introduce yourself in Lingit according to traditional protocol. The instructor went around the room, and coached each person to recite in Lingit: My Lingit name is _____ (I dunno). My English name is ______ (that I do know). My clan is ______ (dunno). My name comes from ______ village (maybe?). My mother's Lingit name is _______ (Ouch!) My father's name is _______(I wanna crawl under the table) My mother's mother's name is______(I'm invisible! I can't do this!) I stayed. Oh, I wanted to run out, I wanted to run. Turns out a Tlingit's name tells his whole geneology. It's easier to be white. Next presentation--Tlingit Geneology. I came away with two quotes: "We are Tlingit through our mothers" and "You belong to the clan you are born into." Now here I am, wondering whether to.... Thank you, Forum, for giving me this opportunity to ramble. I feel better. Gunalcheesh.