New Homes
Good HomesThe next morning, the door of the room opened up and two men were standing in the doorway and one of them-- I started here and looked up, like that, and I thought I would never quit looking. That was, I thought, the biggest man I ever saw in my life. Probably was. It was my dad, my foster-- would be my foster dad. And he said, "May we come in?" And the matron said, "Oh, yes. Come on. This is Hazel, sitting right here on the floor." Says, "Get up, Hazel, and shake hands." And I got up and he says, "You're going to be my little girl." And I says, "If you ever hit me, I'll never get up." He says, "Dear, I'll never hit you. I'll never hit you. And he never did. He never did. Danville, Indiana, June 5th, 1865. You wanted to know if John Reyer is with me. He is with me and always will be. If he were our own son, we could not love him more than we do. We have given him our last name. We call him Charlie Highland. He thinks we are his parents and we want him to. I love him so much that it would break my heart. Dear Mr. Brace: It is rather today for winter weather. I go to school and enjoy myself first-rate. I would like to teach school when I get a good education. But sometimes I have a great deal of trouble and woe. I build air castles and before they are entirely constructed, they tumble down in a heap of ruins. I suppose we must take life's journey as it comes. The Killings took me in and they took me, gave me a room of my own that was almost unbelievable for anyone to have-- a boy that age to have a room of their own. The next morning we went in for a huge breakfast and the breakfast was set in the main dining room, which was an honor. And the prayer was most gratifying and it gave me a new thought on life, that maybe this wasn't so bad, after all, that I'd kind of wait and see how things worked out. My adoptive mother, Mrs. Nailing, she lived with a horror that I would eventually go back to New York to my biological people. And, of course, after two or three years with them, that was just past thinking because I was happy where I was. And I don't imagine I would have gone back if I'd have had the chance, but even after I was grown, she had that horror. |
Bad HomesThe farmer took this other boy, Albert and they kept him on the farm, wouldn't send him to school, worked him eighteen hours a day in the field and he just lost his mind. And he died at an early age, less than thirty years of age. And he finally ran away from home, but it was too late. They wouldn't let him go to town and see people, afraid he'd tell them how badly he was treated. And he never saw anybody. I saw him about two times during the whole time he was there, about ten years. I just saw him twice and he was afraid to talk to me. And I couldn't-- I couldn't help him. I didn't know enough to help him. But my dad always thought that he was abused, so he was afraid to talk about it, afraid he'd be abused some more. We got to the house and this nice old lady met me and says, "You look all right." Well, they had already had their supper, so she fixed a plate for me and this big goblet of milk. And I tasted it and I said, "It's sour." She heard it. She could hear that. She said, "It is not. I churned it fresh this morning." Well, I still didn't know what she was talking about. I said, "Well, I don't like it." She said, "You don't have to have it." Anyway, she took the glass away. And her daughter-in-law was waiting for her husband to come out because the war was over now and her husband was stationed at Langley Field, Virginia, and he would be home soon. So I could sleep with her that night. And that was really a night. She told me just exactly why those people wanted me, that she would be gone and I was growing up and I would be big enough to take care of that house. And that's all they wanted with me, but she wouldn't be there to help me. And said, "What can I do?" She says, "Go back to the hotel and tell them that this is just not for you." So she drew me a map of where I was, back to the Beckham, and I walked in and I never got such dirty looks in my life as I did when they saw me walk in that door. "Well, what happened to you?" And I said, "They didn't want a child. They wanted a slave." Dear Friend: The place where I lived I did not like. They whipped me till I was black and blue. I told the lady I did not like to stay there, so she told me I might leave. You know, I was never invited to birthday parties. I would see other children going to birthday parties and it really hurt. Children didn't want me. They didn't want to play with me. And I remember, possibly in the fourth grade, when this-- I was walking with this girl and this mother came to the screen door and she said, "Haven't I told you I don't want you to walk with her? I don't want you to talk to her. Get away from her." And that's the way it was. And it was very hurtful because sometimes I'd go home and look in the mirror. What was the matter with me? I didn't know. |
Mr. and Mrs. McClain used to attend many Orphan Train Reunions. These events usually had actual riders of the orphan train and many descendants. Then they would all share their stories with another. By the time the reunion was over every one had learned something new.
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