I CRIED FOR A LITTLE BOY
WHO ONCE LIVED THERE ©

CHAPTER FIVE
Came A Time When Larry Eugene
Learned To Respect His Elders.

RAINBOW
    The pain from the beating the man at the juvenile home had given me was so bad at times, I had been nauseated.  My right eye was completely swollen shut.  I laid there on my stomach, with my head pillowed on my arm, exposed down to my waist from behind the railroad ties.  Because of the pain, I tried not to move anymore than necessary.
    The sun had heated the shed to an almost unbearable temperature.  By the sun, it looked as though it may have been an hour or so past noon.  During the noon hour there had been less kids in the park but by then more adults had showed up.  I was more afraid of adults than I was of kids.  Even though I had become fairly thirsty in the heat of the shed, there was no way I was going out then.
    As I looked across the park at the adults.  I realized their world wasn't mine and I doubt they even knew my world existed.  I guess the worst part of it was, I knew what their world was like and I wanted to be part of it.  Maybe, somewhere out there I would find what I was looking for.  I knew where I came from there was no happiness.
    All I could do, was lay there and think.  Think of the only thing I knew about.  That was the past, what little there was of it.  The future, I didn't want to think of.
    So my thoughts drifted once again to the time before I went to the juvenile home.  In my mind it had only been yesterday.  Not three years ago when I was ten years old, and still at the orphanage.
    There didn't seem to be any time or place at the orphanage that was so sacred I wouldn't run away.  I had even ran away from church services one Sunday morning, while everyone had their heads bowed in prayer.  That Fall when I was ten, I had ran away from school.  I had been late getting to school, and I had walked to school alone. My face still smarting from a slap Ms. Gruber had given me.  I had walked in the north door of the school building, passed my school room, down the hallway and out the south door of the building.  I walked past the hospital and down to the railroad tracks, heading for the river.
    The railroad tracks were about fifty, sixty feet below the street level.  At every street there was a bridge high above the tracks.  At one of those bridges (I always called it, "Suicide Bridge") a girl from the orphans' home had jumped, killing herself.  She was now buried in the orphans' section of the cemetery across the street from the orphanage.  Whenever I came to that bridge, I would pause, look up at it, then bow my head and say a prayer.  After a few moments, I would then walk on to the river.
    The time I had ran away from school, was the time Mr. Guold had been waiting on the Arsenal bridge for me.  Mr. Guold had been sitting on the railing behind one of the bridge supports.  I hadn't seen him until I had walked upon the bridge.  Not that he was hiding or anything like that.  It was, I wasn't looking for him.  I hadn't been gone from the home, not much more than an hour.  I hadn't even suspected I was missed yet.  As I had started across the bridge he had stepped out in front of me, asking, "Don't you think you are a little far from home?"
    I almost fainted right there in front of him.  One moment, I was free and could do anything I wanted. The next....  I'll say one thing, I was scared.  I had a very good reason to be.  He took me back to the orphanage and to another very painful double event.
    Running off from school was about the last time I ran away that year.  If it was raining or if it was cold I never ran away.  But if it started raining or if it had turned cold after I had ran away I would never give myself up.  In all of the times I had ran away, no matter how bad it had gotten for me, I had never given myself up.
    Those winter months when I was ten years old were to be the only months I didn't run away from the orphanage.  During those months, I did see more movies, Mr. Guold never gave me any whippings.  Christmas had been nice even though I hadn't received any Christmas presents.  I didn't really expect to.
    Christmas time, there were a few decoration in the cottage.  Most of the decoration us boys had made.  Christmas dinner was nice.  There had been turkey and all of the trimmings.  I remembered, by the side of each of our plates there had been a little cup of peanuts.  In the Chapel there had been a Christmas play I had a little part in.  I know it didn't seem like much but when you didn't have anything, what little you did get made you feel good.
    But then there was the down side of that winter too.  Ms. Gruber was there every day of the week.  She had a couple of days off each week, but she still lived there.  So it had been like she was there all of the time.  The occurrence of the whippings had gone down, only to be replaced by more slapping and other forms of punishments.
    When winter passed and the weather started warming up, my thoughts had once again turned to running away.  I didn't know why I was running away.  I know when I was on escape I felt a lot better about things.  I wasn't living in constant fear of getting into trouble.  It seemed I had more control of my life.  That isn't to say, being on escape was all that good either.  Most of the time, if I was gone long enough, I was hungry.  At times I was wet, cold and dirty.  I didn't get much sleep for I was often afraid at night.  But in all, I felt it was a lot better than being in the orphanage.
    Whenever I was whipped, slapped, or some other form of punishment had been used on me, the odds of me running away were very high.  If I only thought I was in trouble, I was gone.  Why was I running away?  I felt it was because of what Ms. Gruber was doing to me.  But....
    The first time I ran away that spring, it had been right after a whipping from Ms. Gruber.  After the whipping, I left my cottage and took the service road to the girls' side of the institution.
    The course I chose to go, caused me to pass in front of the green-house where I had worked a few weeks the summer before.  That had been before I had turned ten, and before I was sent to Cottage Eight.  After that they wouldn't let me work there for that was on the girls' side.  Since I had worked in the greenhouse only that last summer, the man who took care of the greenhouse knew me and he knew I wasn't suppose to be on the girls' side of the institution. 

The Orphans' Homes' greenhouse as viewed from the girls' side.

    I was running hard as I ran past the greenhouse, he had yelled after me and told me to come back to him.  There was no problem with me disobeying.  Whenever an adult told me to do something, I did it.  Well, they had talked to me a lot about not running away.  Well, sort of, as they were laying the razor strap on my rear-end.  Of course at those times, I wasn't paying too much attention as to what they were saying.  But that was the only time I didn't obey them.
    As I walked up to him, he asked, "What are you doing over here on the girls' side?"
    "I'm chasing grasshoppers Sir."  Was my quick reply.  What had given me the idea, was as he had called to me, I had seen a grasshopper there on the service road.  I had bent down and grabbed it.  Still holding it in my hand, I showed it to him.
    He wasn't impressed, nor did he buy my story.  He didn't think I was a runaway, it was that he didn't buy my story about the grasshopper.  I had been caught on the girls' side and that was definitely out-of-bounds for me.  About the worse place I could be caught.
    I was still wearing my uniform, one like all of the boys in my cottage were wearing.  It was a khaki one piece jump-suit.  We wore a T-shirt and briefs under it.
    The man told me to go into the greenhouse office.  Once in there he told me to take all of my clothes off.  I mean everything, jump-suit, T-shirt and my briefs.  I was naked when he told me to lay over his desk.  He placed a wet towel lengthwise over my body.  Then he applied his board to me.
    I don't know what I was promising him as I was pleading with him to stop.  I didn't even know for sure what I was getting whipped for.  That was one whipping I will never forget.  I don't know what it is about a wet towel but I am thankful no one since has whipped me that way again.  If I could of had a clear mind when that board was coming down on me, time and time again, I would have been praying, rather than pleading with him to stop.  Then again, I don't know, they seemed to have stood between God and me.  Sometimes I might have even have confused them with God, for they had so much control over my life.
    I really didn't have a job there at the orphanage, except for cleaning my cottage, not since I had been sent to Cottage Eight.  But if I did have a job, I would probably have ran off from that too.  Well I guess I did something sort of like that.
    It had been a few days after the greenhouse incident, shortly after my eleventh birthday.  I had been in Cottage Eight now for a little over a year.  When one afternoon several of us boys from my cottage were taken in the home's pick-up truck to hoe vegetables grown on the orphans' home farm.
    When we had gotten to the farm, all of us boys went into the tool shed and each got a hoe.  While in the shed I noticed some empty vegetable crates stacked in one corner of the shed.  This gave me an idea.  I waited until all of the boys had left the shed then I re-stacked the crates, creating a hiding place behind them, which I could later crawl into.  Then I went out and joined the boys in the garden.
    Towards the late afternoon, the staff member supervising us told everyone to put their hoes away and to get into the truck.  Taking my time I was the last one into the shed.  When all of the other boys had left the shed, I crawled into my hiding place and pulled a crate in front of the opening.  I laid still, as I waited for the truck to start and head back to the orphanage.
    I heard the door open again, then a boy say, "He isn't in here."  Then the door closed.  I heard some commotion outside of the door.  The deep voice of the supervisor talking to someone, "They told me to keep an eye on that boy.  I saw him not ten minutes ago."  Then the voice trailed off.
    Laying there for awhile, I noticed how hungry I was and I thought, "I'll go back to the orphanage and run away after supper."  So crawling out of my hiding place, I walked about a half mile back to the orphanage.

The Rear Of Cottage 8
Where Larry Eugene Learned To Respect His Elders.

     Arriving back at my cottage I seen all of the boys had already cleaned up for supper and were standing on the back porch waiting to go to the evening meal.  As I stepped upon the porch to go into the cottage, a boy, seeing I was late (probably knew why too) said, "If she (Ms. Gruber) gives you any trouble just call me and we'll both take care of her."
    If I had not gone into the cottage but rather had stayed on the porch and pretended to have cleaned up for supper or if that boy had not said what he did, maybe, just maybe what followed would never of happened.
    When that boy told me he would back me up if I needed him, it made me feel I was ten feet tall and could whip the world.  So when I went through the back door of the cottage, I felt I was invincible.
    I changed my clothes then went to the sink and washed my hands and face.  I was in the process of combing my hair when Ms. Gruber walked in.  I was the only boy in the washroom.  It was just her and me.  For once I wasn't afraid of her.  For didn't I have all of the help I needed, just outside the back door?
    She said in a scolding manner, "Peterson.  Why are you always the last one to get ready?  You are late for everything."
    That did it. I was too big for her to talk to me that way.  I took my comb and threw it at her, in sort of a back handed fashion, hitting her in the stomach.  Then the comb fell to the floor, landing by her feet.
    "Peterson.  You get over here and pick this comb up.  Right now." She had emphasized, "Right now."
    She was mad but I wasn't afraid of her.  I had help outside on the back porch she didn't even know about.  For the first time in my life and about the last time, I let my temper fly, "Pick it up yourself if you want it."  I had said it in the most sarcastic voice I could muster.  I suppose I had been practically yelling at her.  If I had known any names like "bitch" or something I would have called her that too. But at that time I didn't know any such names or swear words I could have used.
    One moment she was ten feet from me, the next she was on top of me.  So fast I had no time to react.  She grabbed me by my hair, then half dragging, half pushing she took me into her sitting room where the razor strap laid across the arm of her chair.  She let go of my hair for only an instant as she reached for the strap.  I wasn't afraid.  Not yet anyway.  I had been startled by the way she had reacted so fast and my head hurt from the way she had pulled my hair but no, I wasn't afraid of her, not yet anyway.  I knew I had help, just outside of the open day room window that overlooked the back porch.
    When she let go of my hair I ran as hard as I could for the back window.  I had no intentions of going through the window.  I was going for help and when that boy came, "We would both take care of her."
    Stopping at the window had been a big mistake, I should have dove through it and took off.  At least long enough for her to cool off.  But no, I stopped, I had help on the back porch, all I had to do was call him then we would both take care of her.  She would regret she had ever hit me.
    So, when I got to the window I stopped.  Leaning through the window with my hands on the sill, I called to the boy to come and help me.  Right then I had a feeling I could use all of the help I could get.
    I can still see the hurt expression on the boy's face as he turned from me and stepped off of the porch.  That expression told me more than any words ever could.  For it was at that moment, I realized the mistake I had made.  But by then Ms. Gruber had caught up with me.  She slammed the window down across my back pinning me there.  What followed was a beating, there is no other way to classify it, it was a beating, one of the worst beatings of my life.
    I had barely turned eleven, I was four feet nine inches tall and I weighed seventy-five pounds.  Ms. Gruber was about five feet nine inches tall, maybe a little more and she weighed over a hundred and eighty pounds.  She had the razor strap and I was pinned in the window, and she was mad.
    I screamed to the other boys to come and help me.  But they all turned, walked off of the porch and around the corner of our cottage so they wouldn't have to see what was about to happen to me.
    The strap hit and the fire shot through my body.  Again the strap came down. I screamed, I cried, I pleaded and I begged for her to stop but it was no use.  She kept hitting me with the strap and my screams went on.  There was no one there to stop her, not even any adults who must have heard my screams.  I believe at first, in those first few moments she was so angry with me she had every intention in killing me.
    When she finally stopped and opened the window, she was completely exhausted.  I collapsed to the floor in shock.  I wasn't pleading, begging or even whimpering. I couldn't believe what had happen to me.  I laid there collapsed on the floor.  There was no more anger left in me.  Laying there, I didn't hate Ms. Gruber for what she had just done to me.  I didn't have any feelings at that moment as I laid there on the floor in complete shock.
    This was the only whipping I had ever gotten while I was still wearing my clothes.  But I had been wearing my blue shorts with nothing under them so it was like having nothing on.  I turned black and blue from my waist to below my knees.  For days, I walked around with those bruises showing on my legs for everyone to see.
    From that day on, I never talked back to any adult.  I never showed my anger to any of them.  I became extremely fearful of all adults in knowing what they could do to me.  I became very polite towards all of them and I obeyed them to the best of my ability.  Well, except for running away.  That day was to irreversibly change my whole attitude and outlook on life.
    I was asked once by Mr. Daine's, superintendent of the orphanage, why I ran away so much.  I had told him what Ms. Gruber was doing to me.  How she was slapping me and whipping me with the razor strap.  I wasn't complaining because I thought what she was doing was wrong but because it hurt me so much.  I had asked him to transfer me out of her cottage to Mr. Guold's cottage.  Even though the boys in his cottage were a couple of years older than I was, I wanted to be with Mr. Guold.  He had given me several hard whippings by then but he was the closest thing I had to a father.  I felt at that time, more than anything in my life I needed a father, if it was only a substitute.
    I didn't tell Mr. Daines, Ms. Gruber was sexually molesting me on bath nights.  Then, I didn't even know what she was doing to me was abuse.  I didn't like the way she was forcing my head under the water but I didn't tell him about that either.
    He had told me, "If you don't want whippings then you had better quit running away and behave yourself."  He wouldn't transfer me but he did tell Ms. Gruber I had told on her and she had taught me never to complain about her to the superintendent again.

RAINBOW
Foot Prints In The Snow
MIDI By the courtesy of the MIDI Picking Harry Todd The best on the NET.

 Chapter Six