Growing Up Well

One Sunday a month was designated as adoption day. Those children without parents or those who, for whatever reason, were eligible for adoption were shown off on these days. After our first year it was decided by my older brothers and sisters that my younger sisters and I should have the opportunity to be adopted if the right family came along, but we were never actively seeking another family as some were.

The kids enjoyed these adoption days. Some genuinely wanted to be chosen. The prospect of a caring family and a normal life can have a great appeal to a youngster accustomed to so much less. It was easy to identify the anxious ones because they dressed so carefully and behaved so well. Some went month after month to no avail. The most attractive and healthy children were first chosen and it was sad to see the not so fortunate repeatedly disappointed.

I served often as a runner and had the great pleasure of becoming the close buddy to Tiny Anne. At the age of twelve she was the size of our first graders and being so was aptly named. Anne was know as the "door step baby" because when only a few days old she was found in a basket on the steps leading to our Chapel. Nothing more was ever learned about her background.

She soon became everyone’s favorite. Despite her diminutive size, or maybe because of it, she developed a zesty and energetic personality. Unfortunately, she never gained sight in her left eye. This, in addition to her scrawny body and wizened face, made her an unlikely candidate for adoption. But she was never discouraged. Her indomitable spirit carried her through disappointment after disappointment.

Strangely enough, she had convinced the St Paul officials to allow her to conduct her own campaign for a family. There were foster homes who would take her or Catholic Charity institutions who would accept her and several of the nuns were convinced that she would have the best chance for a satisfying life if she would plan to enter a convent one day. But tiny Anne would have none of this; she very firmly stated her intentions. She would only go with a couple without children who lived in the country. As we became friendly she confided in me that one of her fondest dreams was to have a little white pony.

Anne was such a fixture at St Pauls that she roamed at will during her free time. She could most always be found around the offices doing odd jobs to help anyone and everyone. Later I learned that this was one of her ways to scout prospective families. I doubt many visitors left St Pauls without being thoroughly screened by Tiny Anne.

She often accompanied the runners on their errands. As we went back and forth she would give us the lowdown on the family looking for children. She seemed to know more about the people than Sr. Eileen who ran the program.

When Anne found a couple who met her requirements she would go into action. First, she introduced herself as Sister'’ helper. Then she would offer to take then on a tour of St Pauls. During the half hour or so while she walked them about she would be seen in steady and earnest conversation as she sought to learn if they were just the right couple. I doubt anyone she latched onto was aware that it was they, not she, who was being screened. A few times she found people she wanted badly and her efforts to convince them that she was just what they were looking for were persistent and ingenious. She made sure that they visited with nuns who would attest to her behavior, her neatness and her fine schoolwork. Anne was a wizard with needle and thread and she kept handy a wonderful collection of her work. But she was unable, on those few occasions, to overcome the fact that she was so physically unattractive. After a setback she would be very sad but come the next adoption Sunday there she would be, her keen senses seeking out that ideal family.

On the last Sunday of the school year I was not working as a runner, so Paul Talltree, Frank Posey and I were hiking over to the Hermit’s place and as we passed the main gate a middle-aged couple in a pickup truck stopped us to ask directions. As we talked they noticed how hungrily we eyed the picnic basket which sat between them. They kindly offered to share with us so we visited for a while. They were from southern Pennsylvania and they owned a dairy farm. Their only son had been killed in the first days of the war and they were lonely. Their local priest had told them about St Pauls and after lots of deliberation they were here for their first adoption Sunday. We thanked them and hurried on our way to the Hermit’s place.

We had been there an hour so when it suddenly came to me. The couple in the truck was ideally suited to be Tiny Anne’s family. I jumped up and ran the half mile or so to St Pauls but I needn’t have worried. As I approached the administration building three familiar figures were walking towards the school. The couple from the pickup truck was separated by Tiny Anne and she held each by a firm hand as she earnestly talked and guided them about.

Two weeks later all of St Pauls was invited to a going away party for Tiny Anne. She had found her family and won them completely. As she made her happy and tearful good-byes there was a calm assuredness about her. It may have taken awhile but there was no doubt. Tiny Anne was going home.