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own and the yearning was st ill deep
inside them. Their hearts went out
to me- smaJl , sick and frightened.
The doctor told them
1
would be all
right as soon as
1
was removed from
the train. Permission was given for
them to take me home.
Thrilled, the couple walked
home with me between them. As
we approached their home a large
friend ly great dane barked his wel–
come and jumped all over me.
1
screamed in terror.
1
had not seen a
dog before! There were also pigs,
chickens and a beautiful driving
horse on their smaJI acreage. They
had been successful farmers, but
had recently retired and moved into
town .
Supper was a big meal. J was
accustomed to tapioca and milk.
But bedtime brought the biggest
surprise of aJl that níght.
1
was
accustomed to all the other chi l–
dren around me, and now
1
was to
sleep in my own room in a huge
bed all by myself.
1
cried. And
cried . Finally, to comfort me, my
new parents put a pallet on the
noor by their bed and then
1
could sleep.
The days sped by and it was
time for the train to leave. My
pros pective adoptive parent s
wanted to keep me! Strong criti–
cism from others couldn ' t deter
them. They wanted to love me, so
as soon as possible 1 was legaJiy
adopted.
A New Llfe
My "papa," as 1 called him, bought
me my first bag of candy, and,
learning of my love for bananas,
would often bring one or two home,
just for me. 1 adored him and was
on my way to being thoroughly
spoiled.
My adoptive mother's approach
was " if you spare the rod you will
spoil the child," and so my scold–
ings and spankings were from her.
J
seemed to need a lot! Mother was
determined to make a "lady" out of
this little girl, and 1 didn't make it
an easy job for her. 1 managed to
get into a great deal of mischief,
and 1 was forever tearing the beau–
t iful dresses she made for me.
My years with both of my
adoptive parents were to be few.
My papa had a history of bronchial
asthma and had been sickly all his
32
life. He died two years later, in
1904, when I was 7. My adoptive
mother struggled on alone, still try–
ing to make a lady out of me.
Many, many times in trying to get
me to behave, she threatened to
send me back to the orphanage.
Financially we were secure and my
papa had set up a trust fund for my
education.
After completing high school,
1
went on to college.
It
was in college
that
1
began to be seriously con–
cerned about my roots. Why was
1
an orphan? What was my true her–
itage?
After graduating from college
and teaching for three years,
1
mar–
ried.
My husband became successful
in the farm implement business.
We had two sons, and when the
first boy was born
1
asked my hus–
band, " l s he normal ?" "Of course
he's normal," my husband replied.
"Why wouldn' t he be?"
1
had not
told him how worried
1
was con–
cerning my heritage.
As the years went by, the desire
to know my past grew. My husband
had to go east on business, and he
suggested we stay in New York
City and visit the Children's Aid
Society to see what we could learn.
As we entered the office
1
was
shocked to find a copy of my high
school picture on the waJI!
The gentleman explained that it
had been obtai ned from m y
adoptive mother by one of the
inspectors who made yearly trips to
check on us children. My husband
and 1 explained the purpose of our
visit.
A gentleman asked, "Why do
you want to do this? Haven't you
been happy with your life? We
have heard so many fi ne things
about you. You have had a far bet–
ter life than most. Why rísk possi–
ble heartache? If you insist, you
may find facts that will deeply hurt
you."
Nevertheless we insisted and
began the search. We finally found
what we were looking for. We
learned my name, my bi rth date,
my place of birth and that my
father had died in Germany. The
manager said, "We get so many
inquiries, but my advice to you is to
forget it." Discouraged, we left.
While waiting for our plane I
suddenly decided to see if there
were any names such as mine in the
New York telephone directory.
H astily
1
scribbled down the
12
names
1
found.
The Answer Comes
It
was sometime later that
I
decided to write to these
12
people.
1
really did not expect an answer.
J
was sure no one would want to get
ínvolved, so J kept my search a
secret.
1
received nine replies, but
no one could help me.
One day another letter carne and
1
slipped away to read it. There
were only a few lines, but oh, the
message it brought!
" 1
think
1
can
help you. In fact,
I'm
sure I'm the
only one who can, but you must tell
me who you are."
I had written in the third person
to conceal my identity.
1
was so
encouraged
1
could hardly hide my
emotions. Still,
I
kept my secret.
Cautious and afraid of blackmail ,
1
continued to conceaJ my identity in
my reply.
The author of these letters was
willing to prove his honesty.
1
wrote to the orphanage asking them
to investigate this person, as they
had said they would do that much
for me if
l
pursued my search on
my own. The orphanage replied :
" By all means reveaJ your identi–
ty."
1 had found my mother's cou–
sin!
At las t 1 was going to learn how 1
carne to be an orphan, what my full
heritage was. My cousin wrote that
in 1897 my mother, at age 19, with
her 1-year-old baby, had emigrated
from Germany. Her husband
recently had died and she fe lt
unwanted by her own large and
overburdened fami ly. My mother's
sister had written encouraging her
to come to New York City, telling
my mother we could live with her
and her family .
My mother 's sister promised to
take care of me while my mother
worked . T here was work for
everyone in America-the land of
opportunity. And so Mother
booked passage on a steamship,
and we arrived in New York to
begin a new life.
My mother soon found employ–
ment as a maid for a German–
(Continued on page 43)
The PLAIN TRUTH