Orphan Survival Stories
I, as many other little boys and girls, lived many a lonely year in the Children's Home Society Orphanage in Jacksonville. I remember having a black woman as the cook; her name was Charity. There was another black woman named Nancy, who cleaned the offices. Then there was this older black man. We called him "Old Mack." He took care of the yards and grounds during the week. All three of them really worked the hell out of us kids.
After leaving the orphanage, I learned about this thing called "prejudice." It never made much sense to me and I never really could get into it. After careful consideration and deep thought, I found it very difficult to dislike someone of a different color. It was the black people who worked at the orphanage that treated us kids with kindness, consideration and respect. Far better than did my own "white" parents, who dumped me in an orphanage as if I was nothing more than a piece of trash.
(I wish to dedicate this story to the memory of Mr. James Byrd, Jr. of Jasper, Texas.)
I wonder if God will forgive humanity for this unbelievable act of cruelty.