This web site contains stories of physical, mental, emotional, and sexual child abuse.

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As I sit in the family motor-home on August the fifth 2008; I look out the vehicle’s side window and stare at the beautiful clear blue water of Lake Marion; the sounds of Beethoven’s majestically music softly floating about the room from the speaker of my Dell Laptop Computer. I hope he would be honored to know that many years after his death that I, a total stranger, rest and clear my mind in the middle of a large green forest with his marvelous works ringing in my ears.

Who would have ever thought that that uneducated “big-eared ugly little boy” from the orphanage, the one with the large scar on his face, who was sexually molested for more than fourteen years by the orphanage matrons, spent two terms in the Florida School for Boys Reformatory, several weeks in jail and finally three years in a Federal Penitentiary was not in his grave before the age of twenty-one. Was I not supposed to be dead before I reached twenty-one? Was I not supposed to be worth no more than to be able to clean toilets, scrub and wax floors, rake leaves and pine-straw and wash dishes?

Who would have ever guessed that one day I would watch as my grandchildren dance, roll and frolic in the leaves and pine-straw that Papa had raked just hours before? Is it not time for me to do my orphanage duties? Is it not time for me to wash the dishes, sweep and wax the floor, clean the toilet and cook a meal so that my wife can also enjoy her time in the forest?

I guess there is a reason for everything that happens in one’s life, and yes, I guess I was supposed to be allowed to “be” after all.

Roger Dean Kiser, author/child advocate.


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