Is There Any Love Down Back?

Chapter 1

 

“The Beginning”

 

 

 

It was dark, very dark. There were few streetlights back then and even fewer in the country.

 

Looking across the road into the dark woods scared me to death as I sat on the front stairs outside by myself. I was so frightened that I was shivering and crying. I saw shiny green eyes staring back at me, I heard growls and grunts, and I just knew many dangerous wild animals, such as bears, wolves, foxes, even monsters, lived in those woods. I knew that one of them was going to come out of the woods and eat me up and nobody was going to be able to help me! I kept crying, wanting to go back into the house. I stood up and tried to open the door but I was too small and couldn’t reach the doorknob, so I sat back down on the steps and cried. This was a form of punishment, meant to teach me a lesson, and I don’t know what it was that I did to deserve this—I was four years old.

 

It was 1948. This is the year that Anthony “Tony” Gregory, my twin brother Arnold Barry O’Neil, Gary Allen “Michael” Gaulin, and myself were placed with the Massachusetts Department of Child Guardianship (D.C.G.), the state welfare. We four boys, as we were referred to by the Massachusetts State Welfare Department, were placed together with our first set of foster parents in Richmond, Massachusetts. Arnold and I were born in East Lyme, Connecticut. We lost our mother to tuberculosis in 1948. Tony was born in Tewksbury, Massachusetts. It is unknown who or where his parents are.

 

Michael was born in Springfield, Massachusetts. He was seriously injured in a bad car accident with his first set of foster parents in Lee, Massachusetts, November 26, 1948. His foster father was arrested for drunk driving; consequently Michael was taken from that foster home and placed with us. He was two years old at the time of the accident.

 

Our foster parents were Virgil and Patricia Gertrude Whitman. Virgil was a big man, about six feet tall, light complexioned, with one eye missing. Patricia Whitman was a small woman who stood about four feet tall. She was dark complexioned and wore thick glasses. We had to call her “Miss Patty.”

 

There were six other foster kids already staying at the Whitmans before our arrival. There was Gloria May, her sister Delores, and their four brothers Ronnie, Herbie, Lloyd, and Walter. This was the first foster home that I remember. My state records showed that Arnold and myself spent the first three years of our lives in foster care in Cambridge, Massachusetts. At the age of four we were placed with the other kids in Richmond, Massachusetts. This home was a big farm with a huge eight-room house on the land, a barn, and a lot of farm animals: horses, cows, pigs, and millions of chickens. Here there were acres and acres of farmland, beautifully landscaped, with mountains and valleys with fresh-water streams flowing right out of the mountains. This was the Berkshires. People come here every summer. It was a hunters’ Shangri-la; folks went there just to get away. This was a paradise for a lot of people, but for the four boys it was a living hell.

 

I don’t remember too much about the Whitmans, although there is one incident that stands out in my mind that’s rather humorous. Miss Patty used to sing a church song called “Heavenly Sunshine” and oftentimes when she got in the mood to sing it, she would have Arnold and myself sing along with her. It must have paid off.

 

One day Miss Patty decided to take some ferns to the market in Pittsfield, Massachusetts. While she was driving, she started singing and had Arnold and me sing along with her. Suddenly she bent over to make an adjustment on the passenger-side window, and in doing so she lost control of the car. It started rolling down an embankment into a ditch. We were screaming and crying; fortunately, none of us was hurt. After a brief struggle with the steering wheel, “Miss Patty” managed to get the car back on the dirt road. You can best believe that after that we all sang a little louder! Somebody was watching over us.

At first it seemed that Miss Patty cared a lot for Arnold and me. She spent a lot of time with us, taking us to the store with her and to the market in Pittsfield. We were only four years old at the time. She was proud of “her two little twins.” She took us everywhere at first—then things started to change. I think she was getting tired of us and her patience was beginning to wear. She started finding reasons to punish us and beat us with her leather strap. I guess it wasn’t easy taking care of ten kids, but since there was a shortage of colored foster homes we were all stuck here together. “Miss Patty” didn’t treat Arnold and me as meanly as she did Gloria and her brothers.

Tony had a bad habit of “messing” in his pants. I remember on one occasion when Tony soiled his pants, Miss Patty became furious and made him take off the soiled underwear.