Taken Away

All four kids started to cry when the nice lady stopped her car in front of the big brick building.

“Where are we?” cried Jacqueline.

Her four-year-old sister Julia and brother Gene chimed, “This isn’t what the ice cream parlor looks like. Where’s the drug store?”

Their little brother Johnny, two and one-half, was too young to know the difference, but he began to cry along with his siblings.

In 1938, the children’s mother had told them that a nice lady was going to come pick them up in her car and take them for ice cream. The children were so excited to go because they only got ice cream on Christmas or their birthdays and they rarely rode in cars.  They bathed and washed their hair the night before. Then come this special day, they put on their Sunday best.

After the car had stopped in front of the big brick building, the four children continued to cry, “This isn’t where we get ice cream!”

The woman led them out of the car towards the building and said, “This is where they make the ice cream.”

Once they walked through the factory doors of the big brick building, people were waiting for them on each side. Some grabbed the two brothers and took them away while the two sisters were taken in another direction.

The sisters didn’t see their brothers for the longest time. The first time Julia finally saw one of her brothers was when she came down with the chicken pox and was put in the infirmary. Julia was standing in her crib and when she looked out across the hall she saw her brother Johnny in the boys infirmary. He too had come down with the chicken pox. They spotted one another and started jumping up and down in their cribs screaming and yelling because they were so happy to see each other. They were given a warning to shut-up. Well that lasted maybe two-minutes and they screamed again with delight and continued to jump up and down in their cribs.

The staff put an end to that by moving each of their cribs away from the doorways. Visiting day was the next time the two brothers were able to see their sisters. Once a month they were gathered into the visiting room where they would see aunts and uncles and parents come visit the other children. They continued to wait for their mother, but she never came.

After Christa was born in June of 1938, she was brought to the same institution where her four brothers and sisters were.  Louis and Edith LeGras, a couple from Bridgeport, Connecticut came to the orphanage looking for a baby. When Edith saw baby Christa with the rash on her face she told the social worker she wanted to adopt her.

The social worker responded, “Are you sure?”

Edith said, “Yes. She has the same birthday as my natural daughter and she looks like a baby who needs a lot of attention and loving care.”

In the meantime, Christa’s older sisters Julia and Jacqueline were placed in a different foster home with a mean lady who had a little boy. While Jacqueline was at kindergarten, Julia was home playing with the son. Every time she had a toy in her hand, the little boy would take it from her. One day Julia started bawling so the foster mom asked her, “What’s a matter with you?” When Julia told her that her son takes the toys from her the mom said, “Well they’re his toys. If he wants them you have to give them to him.” Julia continued to cry. The mean foster mom said, “If you’re going to keep crying like a baby I’m going to put a diaper on you.” And she did. Julia became petrified after that.

Upon one of the social workers regular routine visits to check-in on the sisters, she asked the girls how it was going. Julia was brave to tell her about her experience living there so back to the orphanage they went. Soon after, the social worker reached out to the LeGras to see if they’d be willing to take the other four siblings who were related to baby Christa. They weren’t sure if they could manage five foster children plus their own, but she managed to talk them into taking the sisters.

In May of 2018 Christa passed away. Along with many nieces and nephews, her remaining sibling, Julia, was able to attend her funeral.

When my Uncle Gene passed away in 2011, that was the first time in over 30 years I had seen my Aunt Julia. While a funeral is fraught with emotions, it often becomes an unexpected gathering of family members getting reacquainted at these impromptu reunions. Depending on what your story is, these events can come packed with anger, bitterness and unresolved hurts or they can present an opportunity to offer an olive branch, seek a truth, find an answer, or just forgive something.

So in May of 2018, when I met Aunt Julia for the second time in 30 plus years, I had so many questions I wanted to ask but feared being insensitive because I was at a funeral. Then I thought if not now, when? So I took a deep breath and hoped that my question would tumble out with patience and consideration to who I was asking.

I had to ask the one family mystery question that I could never get an answer to.  “Aunt Julia, when you kids were taken away from your mother, do you know why that was? Why she was put in jail?”

Julia was not taken aback by my question, yet she did not answer me directly. Rather she shared what was on her heart and told the ice cream story. It seemed many of us cousins were hearing her experience and its bits and pieces for the first time. At least I know I was.

When she was done sharing this amazing nugget, I asked again if she knew why they were all taken away and placed in foster homes?

She wasn’t sure why, however Julia felt it was her own fault because she cut her eye and that’s when outside people started coming to their home. We all chimed, “How could it be your fault? You were four years old.” Then I started talking about the newspaper article and collectively us cousins started sharing various details of our family history to fill in holes. I can’t say for sure, but I think this conversation was unfolding fresh for Aunt Julia and all of us cousins that day.

I heal from my wounds every time I dig deeper into the dirt and ask questions rather than scoff. And aren’t I fortunate, if the other person is willing to answer or at least engage. Maybe on that day, because I was bold enough to ask a question at a funeral, and Julia was willing to talk, maybe that freed her from an unrealistic burden of fault that she’d been carrying for over 80 years.

What a sad story to be taken away to an orphanage and at this tender age they had all been lied to and separated from family. Talk about a root of rejection. This is at least how far back I have to dig in order to cut out my root of rejection from my dad. Discovery doesn’t make it easy, but it’s a start.

When we’re willing to dig rather than stew, doesn’t it lessen the sting?

Because I stirred the pot and asked the question, I believe I have a responsibility to recognize the gift that was given to me with Aunt Julia’s story.  A gift that deserves more forgiveness and grace on my part so I don’t become a bitter root.

Her gift was a vision of my dad that I never knew.  A picture of promise and hope when the little boy jumped up and down in his crib screaming with joy at the sight of his sister that day in the infirmary.

When Aunt Julia recalled the rest of her story, she said, “I’m not sure how much time had gone by when us girls were brought to the foster home, but once the social worker convinced the LeGras to get the boys too, Gene and John came to live with us. When the boys showed up, Jacqueline and I started running around hollering and yelling and screaming. We were so happy to see them!”

This story is the beginning for my dad’s journey as he was bounced from foster homes to state institution because he was a hemophiliac and in those days people didn’t know how to handle it. Therefore, once again, I was made to realize, how my dad didn’t have a very fair start in life.

How about you? Can you look back and see another perspective on something that has hurt you?

 

NOTE: I never met the LeGras. This story was shared by my Aunt Julia at Aunt Christa’s funeral last May 2018 and pieced together with her facts shared. It’s a precious gift with much redemption, if you look for it.

credit: crib off of a free image site chella.