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dr iving me to an orphanage, or
sorne sort of inst itution.
We went in side. The place
seemed enormous and cold .
It
felt
like a prison and 1 felt more alone
than ever. 1 had the choice of stay–
ing there or living at another insti–
tut ion in New Haven, Connecticut,
where my brother Paul was living.
Without even seeing the second
home 1 was absolutely sure 1 did
not want to live in the place where 1
was standing.
1 don't recall my initial reaction
to the new inst itution.
It
must have
seemed a safer place to live, per–
haps because my brother Paul was
there. We didn't have much of a
relationship, but then 1 had no rela–
tionship with anyone else.
The place was large.
lt
was .a
two-story weathered brick build–
ing. A doorway in the north wall of
my dormitory opened into a large
room that had picnic tables in it.
There must have been other things
in it too, perhaps toys; 1 can't
remember. Whenever the kids got
too out of hand we all had to sit on
the benches with our heads down
on the tables. A teacher would walk
along each row of kids and swat our
bottoms with a hard, thick rubber
strap.
It
was agony waiting for it, keep–
ing absolutely still . The rubber
strap was the discipline of choice
and depending on the severity of
the offense, the use of the st rap
could get rather severe. l remem–
ber one hoy who after returning
from running away was held down
on his bed by severa! other boys
and strapped repeatedly by his
teacher. 1 d id not consider running
away after that.
1 began to stri ke out at the
wor ld by being violent with the
other kids. Once one of the other
boys, my friend Johnny, was in
the cou rtyard playing when 1
walked up to him, said helio, and
punched him hard in the stomach.
He doubled over in pain. He had
done nothing to provoke that reac–
tion.
lt
was difficult for me to
cope with my li fe; 1 remained
alone among 400 kids.
We rarely left the inst itution as
we also attended school there. But
1 started to do better in school. 1
was always the first one to answer
oral math problems. 1 was exposed
March 1984
to religion fo r t he first t ime.
Becoming involved in religion
offered me the opportunity to
think beyond day-to-day li fe. l t
showed me that people existed
who cared more about others t han
they did abou t themse lves. 1
began to admi re the sensitivity,
lovingness and contentedness that
these people had . lndeed, 1
admired most what was absent in
my own life.
When 1 was 11 and my brother
14, 1 was told that he had to move
to a foster home because the age
limit at the institution was 15. 1
considered no other option and
decided to go with him.
Most of the time there 1 spent
alone. 1 began reading books about
early American heroes like Daniel
Boone and Kit Carson-Ki t was
my favorite. 1 spent numerous
hours playing in the woods pre–
tending to be Kit.
1 did a lot of work too, taking
care of the chickens, helping in the
garden, doing dishes and helping
with the house cleaning. In the
winter there was snow to shovel. 1
grew quite strong because the work
was physically hard, like lifting
100-pound sacks of chicken feed. 1
lived there between the ages of 11
and 16 and for tbe first time had a
good diet.
If
1 bad been able to become
more a part of the family in an
emotional sense, it might have been
everything 1 bad
dr~amed
of. But
tbat could not be. 1 felt as though
they wanted good things for me,
but never were able to understand
me. They always compared me to
one of the former foster kids who to
them was everything anyone should
be.
It
was one of those situations
where no matter what 1 did 1 could
not please them. One thing I really
hated was telling the truth and
being called a liar.
The tensio n mounted as 1
approached 16 and 1 s tarted feeling
more independent. 1 got to a point
where 1 could no longer take verbal
abuse and one day 1 told my foster
mother not to touch me again.
lt
was a tense moment. Soon after 1
ran away severa! times and was
generally noncooperative. 1 knew
they would not tolerate that and
soon my social worker carne to take
me to another home. The saddest
part about leaving was saying good–
bye to the dogs!
Friends Who Helped
l'd bad seven or eight other social
workers and none of them ever
gave me the time of day except Bill
Cohen. He was d ifferent. He fi rst
brought me back to New Haven to
a borne that had four or five other
kids about my age. lt was another
borne where 1 didn't want to be. 1
felt 1 would wind up in trouble with
tbe law if 1 stayed. The other kids
were j uveni le delinquents, and 1
was a prime candidate to follow
suit.
1 complained to Bill and told bim
that 1 wanted to move to Water–
bury, Connecticut, where my
friend Bill Schum lived. 1 had been
attending high school there and
Schummer- that is what we called
him-was my only close friend.
He was a warm, encouraging,
sensitive and fun-loving boy. His
father died a year or two before we
met. One of the times 1 previously
ran away was when 1 wanted to see
him. 1 liked his friends and lhe
neighborhood he lived in. Thal 's
where 1 wanted to live.
Bill Cohen said lhat if I wanled
to live there then I'd have lo find a
place on my own, and if 1 found one
then he'd help work out the details.
The idea of independently finding a
place to live seemed a mountainous
task, b u t my motivat io n was
s trong.
I took a bus to Waterbury and
met my friend Schummer, who
knew of a few homes in the neigh–
borhood where 1 might be able to
find a room. He was tremendously
supportive and spoke highly of me
to tbe people who lived in the two
houses we visited.
The people in the first borne said
no. 1 was feeling desperate.
The second home we went to was
a couple of houses down the street
from my friend's house. 1 explained
the situation to Mrs. Sheehan who
owned the home. She rented one
room to an elderly man.
1 read doubt in her eyes as our
conversation continued and 1
quickly asked if she'd talk to Bill
Cohen before she made up her
mind. She agreed. After talking lo
Bill and me together she agreed to
let me live there. (The state of
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