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Mar. 26, 2005 The caseworker Mr. Cohn waived goodbye to me and I wailed. He was not only a handsome white man, but he was kind and wonderful. He made me feel special and good about myself. He gave me hope, because my world had caved in. It was the fall of 1942, Chicago,Illinois, and the courts had taken my brother and me away from our single mother. She was working as an entertainer, trying to get a career going. She was young, ambitious, adventurous,and caught up in the caberet set. She ran with some notorious hookers who were street wise and dangerous! However her friends were always nice to me, and one of them taught me how to swear like a sailor. Her name was big flo, and she weighed over three hundred pounds, with one punch she could knock a man unconcious. I loved big flo, she always made us laugh, and always had a little man hanging on her hugh arm. Big Flo and Momma use to beat the hell out of tricks and cut the zoot suits off of them. Ofcourse that was after they robbed them of their money. It was after one of these occasions that momma fled to Oregon. The police came looking for her, and discovered my brother Robert and I were alone. This was the beginning of my journey into hell and my first foster home. Mr. Cohn with his dark wavy hair, and smooth complexion smiled at me and patted the side of my face, trying to wipe away my tears. "These people are very nice people Lorraine, you and your brother will have a room to yourselves. A big yard to play in and lots of toys." (I liked to read comic books at the time.) His words soothed me a little, but I was not only devastated, I was mad! I wanted to scream out the words big Flo had taught me, but decided against it. My brother just wept silently as his narrow eyes became slits of deep black pools of seething hatred for my mother, and I believe it was then that he began to hate women, but thats another story. Mrs. Stemmer opened the door to welcome us into her house. She was a stout women with plain broad features. She smelled of grease and flour. She removed her apron, laying it on a nearby chair, and motioned for us all to sit on a plastic encased couch. She and Mr Cohn spoke in words over my head and soon Mr. Cohn was saying goodbye. For a few days my brother and I played happily in the yard, I blowing bubbles out of my new corncob pipe, he romping around playing his favorite cowboy. After playing in the yard we would read our comics, bathe and go to bed. Mrs. Stemmer was nice enough, but I was always missing my mother. I didn't give her a chance to bond with me I guess, because it was obvious to me that she adored my brother. I suppose he represented manhood, because I never did see a Mr. Stemmer. She took us across town to church, it was large and had a sizable congregation. The only memorable thing about the services was the Sunday a rather plump women was standing in front of the worshipers speaking, and her panties fell down around her ankles. Needless to say the audience was overwelmed with wild laughter. The woman meerly reached down and pulled her panties up and continued with her speech. That sight still lingers in my memories. One day Mrs. Stemmer had to run an errand, and it was on this occasion she called us from our room and explained she had to go downtown. She led me and my brother to a closet opened the door, and told us we would have to stay in the closet until she returned. We begged and pleaded with her not to put us in that closet, until the tears ran down our faces and mingled with the snot. But she said it had to be done, because she didn't want us to be bad and get into her things. She pushed us into the cloths filled tiny space and locked the door. We screamed and cried for her to let us out, but she was gone! Our tiny feet kicked at the door, but to no avail. My brother laid down on the floor with his face toward the inch of opening at the bottom of the door, and screamed something awful. It touched me so, I cradled him in my arms to comfort him and told him not to be afraid, that I would always take care of him. We both stopped crying and swore to each other that we would escape the hell of that closet, but we were exhausted from trying to kick the door in, and we went to sleep on the floor amonge the shoes and packages. The closet was my desent into a terrifying hell and the beginning of claustraphobic horror so intense I could not sleep near a wall. Every time I looked at Mrs. Stemmer tears would swell up in my eyes and every time she said she had to go downtown I knew hell. I guess my little six year old mind could not explain to her that she caused me to lose my trust in her. One sunny day the doorbell rang, and the next thing I heard was my Mothers voice. I ran into the living room and threw my arms around my mothers knees. My brother soon followed but he would not hug momma, he just stood by us. I could smell the whiskey on my mother's breath, and it smelled like heaven to my little nose. I loved her so much it hurt in my chest. Momma pulled us to her and said, "I'm going to take you away from here now!" She simply got up off the couch walked to the door, opened it and we all walked out into the bright sunlight. ------------ About the author Lorraine B. Carter: I am a know Artist, I volunteer for civic work, and I am involved in civic affairs which has led to solutions for blighted neighborhoods, and I am an elected official. I believe that all of Americans should committ to helping rebuild our American cities which will lead to a better quality of life for all. Email: dustymommapub@sbcglobal.net Tell a friend about this site! ------------ All articles are EXCLUSIVE to Useless-Knowledge.com. 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