Becoming a Man

Disaster Strikes

As I came around the house, raising a small dust trail through an open window, I heard my name spoken and slid to a halt.  He was saying; “What will we do about Luke?”  Ed was obviously speaking to Aunt Sarah.

Well, that is the way we were taught to address Ed; or more correct, Edwin, who was talking to Aunt Sarah, the real master of the Wichita orphanage.  Sarah was not my aunt any more than Ed was my uncle.  But she ruled the orphanage I was in, with a tight fist and with an obvious goal of making a stake, rather than really caring for the children in the orphanage.  In addition to a few orphans, they also housed children from farms and ranches who lived in town during the school term.

The reason my Father, William Markanis, had left me in Wichita while he went East on business, was twofold:

The available orphanage, and

The Santa Fe Rail terminal.

My Father and I had been traveling throughout the US, the previous several years, and once we even went to South America.  Most of the travel was associated with the development of railroads west of St. Jo, Missouri.  I had attended several local schools during this traveling, but we moved too often for me to attend for any length of time.

I observed that the orphanage children from a farm or ranch often saw little need for schooling beyond mastering the three R’s.  Children who lived in town, where life was more social seemed to seek a higher personal achievement through education.

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