“Breaking Out”
My Personal Biography with illustrations
Written by:
Jeanette Pizarro
Introduction
It is
I am there! I am not talking
about the financial freedom, fame or material riches which I thought was what I
needed, financial security was one of the biggest reasons for me not to begin
writing my life’s story. When I began trusting the Lord with all my life’s
situations, everything turned around. What ever you believe in or what ever
your religion is, I do respect that however, let me tell you what I have
learned in my journey through life with and without the Lord Jesus Christ
finally, here is my story.
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Most of all, this book is dedicated to my husband
Pedro, who as a journalist, encouraged me to write about my life experiences.
I will always be grateful for his understanding and patience he has shown me
by listening patiently to all the episodes of my past because for every
situation, I had a story to tell. |
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A Real Story
All free men, wherever they may live,
are citizens of
And therefore, as a free man, I take pride in the words "Ich bin ein
Berliner."
-- President John F. Kennedy,
I was born in
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The long road of recovery |
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Following the Second World War, the major
western powers (
Life in 1946 was still chaotic when my father,
Karl-Heinz Lankrer arrived in Berlin from Australia with my mother Patricia,
who was a real Irish Women (You will find soon find out why), at that time, she
was pregnant with my brother Michael. From what I understood and was told to me
by my father’s two aunts, (Charlotte and Hedwig), he was a prisoner in
Right from the start, my mother Patricia
was not accepted by my father’s family. It was a family of Aristocrats, Priests
and that sort who resided in Rhineland a more western part of Germany with beautiful
land and castles however, I am grateful that I never grew up with them. I met
some of the up-nose family members just a couple of times and was not impressed
even as a child and it was depressing to me but more about that later. I am
drawing blanks concerning some of the early years. My grand aunts from my
father’s side had some documents which they kept hidden why, I never understood
and I did not have access to them. They only allowed me to read some of the
letters my father wrote from Australia where he went to eventually and dropped
my mother to the wolfs in Germany, (in a country still not known to her, not
speaking the language, and pregnant with me). The letters only talked about him
and all the money he will be making and how he will come back to
To keep my biography a little bit in
order, two years later in 1948 after my brother Michael was born Peter arrived
year after and from there, three years later I was born. What happened in the
years between the birth of my brothers and my arrival, I do not know. The only
thing I do understand according to my grand aunts is that my father had a real
hard time getting work and trouble taking care of his family. Looking at what
transpired a lot later in my life, I can see why it was hard for him and what I
believe caused that situation. From what I understood, my father was the black
cheep of the family one of the reasons was that he loved the liquor to much and
was a rebel which I can understand in a way when I look at the makeup of the
family. As you noticed, I do not call them my family because I never had
anything to do with them and do not regret that they were not a part of my life
at all.
Now, let me tell you about the beginning
of my existence which was adventures right from the start, so I was told. My
father was already six months in
With her three children and no support
from my father or my father’s family, not even the grand aunts, my mother was
living in a one bedroom apartment in Schoeneberg no work, no food just liquor
which was cheep in the American bars in Berlin. With no one interested in
helping my mother or just checking up on her, no one knew that she was drinking
instead of feeding her children. But eventually it came out due to her behavior
and her being arrested for public exposure, I never found out the details, but
that incident in the police records still followed me throughout my growing up,
like it was my police record and not hers, you will find out why later on in
another chapter of this book.
It seemed to me that the neighbors were
really not interested of what went on in my mother’s apartment because we must
have screamed so much because of hunger that any body should have noticed that.
Why they did not, I still do not understand or maybe I have forgotten, because
of what I have heard about my early years I did not want to remember? When she was drunk, she went out to the
American bars to party, there, they spoke english and the atmosphere bared some
familiarity to her. In the meantime, my brothers and I were left at home alone
with nobody watching, my brothers were tight to the legs of the chairs on the
floor so they could not move around in the apartment, and I was left in the
crib with none of my diapers changed or having been fed. She stayed out all
night and when she came home, she fed us sugar water to keep us quite so that
we had something in our stomach, and she could go to sleep and be rested for
the next night out. The only reason I know about this is because of the
investigations undertaken by the children’s welfare department, which is like
the HRS here in the USA who found us in these conditions and never did let me
forget that as long as I was under their guardianship.
At one point or another, the neighbors must
have been bothered by my crying or screaming all night because one of them
called the authorities to finally have them take us away from her. I was sent to a hospital to die once again
because of malnutrition and with the
understanding by the doctors, that I only would survive not more than 3 weeks
the most because my body was just bones and skin. I was told that I was only
three months old at that time. In the meantime, my brothers were examined and
released to my grand aunts who believed that boys had more value or are more
important then girls, so I was again left in a hospital until one of the
neighbors, Clara Unterkreuter you will hear a lot more about her later, took me
in as a foster child and so my journey through the child welfare system and the
institutions began.
As she told me, she had to fight for my
release from the hospital because there was no hope for my survival. She won
the fight, and I was released into her custody. I guess, the doctors figured
that they did not have anything to loose and HRS was relieved of their
responsibilities until they found out through the hospital that after about two
months I was recovering and would survive. That is when they figured out that
the immediate danger was gone and being responsibility for me is not that risky
any more that’s when they took me away from the neighbor and sent me back to an
orphanage. The only thing childcare
services ever did was checking on the foster parents or who ever took care of
you at the time, that they gave you enough to eat if they did that, everything
else did not really matter unless you ended up dead; the childcare system was
useless.
I cannot continue my biography without
telling you about the circumstances at that time of the way foster care and
orphanages were regulated, if they were regulated. The way the children were
treated by the state and the other institutions of the “merciful orders of
religion”, better called by us later “The child welfare hellholes”. To make it easier
to understand, the rules and laws under which we children and juveniles of the
post-war West-Germany were raised, have been established in 1878 and have not
been revised until the late 1970’ but only reviesed with still not enough protection for children.
The “Children Protection Act” was not signed until 1992, which to me is
unbelievable when finally some, but only some of the child
protection laws were established. All
throughout the postwar years, and continuing during the 1950’s , 60’s and 70’s
many of us children and juveniles were held in church and government run
institutions. There existed more than 3000 of such prison-like institutions all
over Germany. While Germany began to prosper after the war, we as orphans
became a reminder of what had happened in the past and no one really wanted to
be reminded of the tragedies which occurred during that war.
Almost all of us came from poor families
or did not have any family (parents) at all, which was even worse and gave more
excuses and grounds for abusive treatment since there was no one there to give
any kind of protection. All of us only
wanted and needed kind words, just a hint of a little love and most of all
“Understanding”. We were the “Baby
Boomers” of Germany just not with the same benefits and opportunities as our
American counterparts.
Well, let me continue and to keep things
simple, I will call the neighbor just Clara, whom I never could call mother or
mom and who got more involved in my life as my foster mother. She was married
to a high school professor at that time and his name, I believe was Heinz, I am
not sure because regrettably, he was only a small part of my life. So, Clara
and Heinz fought for me with the HRS and prevailed they picked me up from the
orphanage and I finally became their foster child at the tender age of 6
months. To give you an idea about the
living environment in those times, no one really owned houses the majority
rented and Berlin had a lot of very old buildings from the turn of the century which
had super large rooms with ceilings and windows so high, you felt like you
lived in a smaller version of a castle. The apartments were meant for higher
class folks and their servants. They were dark, large and the shadows could
frighten any child at night or before it became dark it was depressing. I
guess, that is why I ended up living in the subtropics like
Well, that day and a few after that, I was
looking and searching for Heinz behind the chair in which he was always sitting
and calling out for him “Daddy, daddy where are you”, so I was told by Clara
because he spent a lot of time in that chair with me.
From that day on, after my foster father’s
death, she moved all her attention to me. I became her emotional punching bag and
constant companion. It was convenient for her because I could not go any where
and had no choice other then listening to the horror stories she soon began telling
me. On top of all that, we spent at least 3 times a week at the cemetery where
I played for hours at a time between the graves and the huge headstone figures
which portrait angels, whole family statues and the sort, being half the time
scared out of my wits of them, especially when dusk set in. I can remember
spending so many hours there, that I knew the names on a lot of headstones and
saw a lot of funerals happen. What I hated the most was, the bells when a
funeral was about to begin, that sound still resides in my mind and until
today, I do not want to listen to these kind of bells. The most depressing was the winter time, when
we went there a lot more often, 3 times a week and every Saturday and Sunday
after church. Clara spent a lot of time
there fixing up the graves of her husband and mother and I forgot who else’s,
it seems to me now that she was living there. Talking about living in a depressive
environment as a child however, the cemetery visits as a playground where just
part of it.
Every day at night before it became dark,
she sat me down at her feet and I had to listen to her horror stories of the
happenings and her experiences in WW II in a very descriptive vivid manner and
never turning on the light. In my mind I saw pictures of bombs, craters, fires
dead people, and hands caught under the bombs every day. There was not one day
when she did not speak about it or described it.
Until recently I still had nightmares
running every night from bombs or from fire rain, these daily stories went on
until she passed. I forgot to mention
the only highlight at that time in my life was the neighbor’s daughter Heidi.
She was three years older than I but loved to show me her friendship by pushing
me to the floor all the time, just for the heck of it. It was a blessing for me
and we became very close, I was allowed to spent quite some time with her because
her aunt lived in our building and she stayed with her a lot.
You have to remember the environment we
lived in, in those post war years. The ruins of
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hundreds of
women at work, picking up bricks, knocking the mortar off, and stacking them up to be recycled into new
buildings. Money was still very tight and the food
supply was still short. Trümmerfrau
(Brick-Women |
American Solders distributed care packages
with food to help out the orphans and foster children. It was a happy occasion
when I was able to eat some fruit or peanut
butter once a month which was delivered by the nice American solder but
we were still left without a lot of necessities then.
They also threw some real great Christmas
parties for orphans with presents, lots of food at candle light. I do remember
those times quit with warmth in my heart and believe that this is the reason
while I am still fond of the Christmas season. It seemed that Clara’s heart had
a real soft spot around that time too because at that time she had fun
decorating the Christmas tree with me and giving me presents at Christmas Eve.
We were mostly alone and I was able to enjoy some peace and quite time with
less punishment however, we still visited the dreaded cemetery but the winter
with the snow and cold prevented her from staying there for to long which made
the Christmas time for me the best of the year all around. I still don’t
understand what made Clara switching moods from moment to another it is really
hard to understand what has happened to her, what made her treat and tourture
an innocent child like that.
In the meantime, I reached the preschool
age and finally was able to meet other children. I did not make friends but it
was a temporally relieve from the darkness of my environment at home. I
believe, that there was mercy in play that I have just a vague memory of the
beadings, which were quite frequently. Again, the neighbor must have heard the
crying and screams because sometimes one or two rang the doorbell to inquire
why I was making so much noise and crying, but Clara got rid of them fast, by
making either stomach or a tooth ache the reasons for my behavior and that I
was just over reacting. It still amazes me how she’s got away with that
considering that this was a constant occurrence. Here in the United States, Child
Services would have remove d me immediately, but in Berlin Germany, at that
time, no one really cared. As I grew
older, especially the school years were unbelievably hard and painful. Clara
was a very strict catholic and went to church with me every Sunday and Friday. I
began to realize that she was drinking and smoking a lot despite her religious
believes. It seemed though that when she
was drinking her mood was better and I actually had a nice time once in a
while. She taught me how to ballroom dance and we were partying every special
occasion, it was rare however because not every day was a holiday. She also
taught me how to cook and save money, how to store food what kind, etc. because
she believed that the time of starvation could come again. I still have the habit
of storing food, friends and my husband laugh and call me a hamster; by the way
Clara bought me one when I was little and his name was poop, poop but in
German. You know what, there are things I am really great full for like what
she has taught me, I have no worries running out of food or supplies during
hurricane season. I hope that I made you smile a little before I go on to the
darker side of this biography again. Believe me, I like to laugh, smile and I even
have sense of humor despite the physical and emotional abuse I received
throughout my childhood. Even though the physical abuse was quite severe at
times, the emotional abuse left deeper scars and instilled a lot of fears into
me which stayed with me and affected me throughout my whole life.
I never understood the reasons for all her
abuse and anger towards me even though I behaved like any other normal child,
at times I was quite, I could create beautiful art with my hands and enjoyed
that tremendously. At other times, I could be very active and was always
curious about anything and everything. I loved to learn and discover, but it
did not matter what I did, everything was wrong in her eyes.
The physical abuse at the time before I
began my school years was very painful, for example, as children we do not
always like to eat what is being served by our parents and sometimes they try
to coheres us into eating what they want anyway however, if trying to convince
you at the end does not work, you would believe that the parent gives up or
let’s you sit at the table until you eat anyway, or let it go all together and
that would be the normal behavior of a parent but not so Clara. My least liked
food was hot dogs believe it or not, but we call them wiener in
When it was not about food, she found
other reasons to beat me one of them was discipline, and she believed I needed
that a lot pretty much on a daily basis and was enough
cause for the wooden hanger or the cane to come out from the closet or anything
else made out of wood in form of a stick, whatever she could find. The beatings
were severe, I could not sit nor stand, or do anything else for that matter and
my behind was raw as it could be after she was done with me. There were times
when I tried to run away from her around our living room table, believe it or
not it was round, but no matter what I did she caught me and her temper
including the beading grew worse. I had so many scars on my behind that at
times I did not even feel her beating me any more which was a blessing however,
the mental and psychological scars never went away. She knew, just to use wooden objects, because
they did not leave very visible scars to the eye. Discipline was her major
excuse to bead me when ever she felt like I did something she didn’t like but I
really never knew what it was until it was too late. Even though the neighbors
did report the screaming to the “Child Welfare” but no one checked up on her
nor did they seem to care since it said in my files that she was a good
catholic, church going women and that was good enough for them, so why bother.
The worst part was when it happened on the
streets. It did not matter where we were, if Clara thought discipline was
needed, the beating took place right there in the street in view of all the
people walking by, pulling down my panties and hitting me with her hands (I
still can’t understand how she could use them afterwards) until I could hardly
walk. Just turning my head back and looking at something of interest to me
while I was walking with her holding her hand was reason enough to discipline
me openly in the street. The other thing she liked to do was to discipline me
when she was ready to go out at night which was quite often. While hiding
behind the couch in the dark she loved to kneel behind there, waiting for me to
get out of bed and look out the window at the stars which I so loved to do but
that was all, I really did not do anything else, I did not understand her
reasons for playing that game. As soon as she saw me standing by the window,
she stormed in and beat my butt to a pulp again. If you thought that would stop
me from going to the window again when I thought she was gone, it did not.
There was some kind of feeling of peace just gazing at the stars, I surely did
not think that there was anything wrong with doing that but Clara had a
different idea about that and wanted to teach me a lesson by repeating this
game over and over again. I fell for it all the time but what she did not
realize however was that the more she beat my behind for that, the less likely
I would stay in bed because I could not lay on my behind nor on my site any way
because of the pain.
Later on as an adult I realized that she
avoided of being discovered by the neighbors of abusing a child physically which
was placed into her care , by not using any other visible part of my body, not
the system cared anyway, because they would have liked us “Children of the
Postwar Germany” to disappear. However, the emotional scars resulting from
these treatments stayed with me forever. It took me a long time to convince my
self that she tried the best she could just did not know better. I had to think
that way to be able to forgive her and go on with my life but that did not
happen until I was 40 years old.
The
Next Chapter In My Life
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To continue with my early school years,
I can remember the first day of school. It was a tradition to have a huge
decorated tube filled with candies in your arm and then had your picture
taken to remind you of that. Just take a look at the picture to your left
wasn’t that cute? And sweet, believe you me. It was one of the nicer moments in my
life and I enjoyed it very much. It was my luck that Clara had a big ego and
cared very much about what other people thought about her, so she kept up the
nice, caring women who took in an unfortunate child, showing off what she
would do or has done for me. But ,while beginning a new chapter in my
childhood, it changed the way Clara was looking at me and that added different
types of abuse to the already existing ones. You know, I understand that reading about those things being
or having been done to children hurts and can make your stomach crawl. I
know, it does it to me but I have to give you a picture about the things
happened to me so that you understand the beautiful gifts I have been given by
God to use these experiences and gifts for His glory and to help His children
and souls who are still suffering in this world. |
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My Friend Heidi, remember the one I told you about before?
She became a big part of my life. Because of the proximity, we were able to see
each other a lot what a highlight that was.
I did not realize until quite a bit later, that she also was abused
emotionally and sexually by her father. We dreamed up a lot of stories together
and escaped into a fantasy world where only she and I existed. We never shared
our experiences at all, but somehow knew that we have had similar burdens in
one form or another by being together and dreaming up these stories, we escaped
from whatever we experienced just for a little while but boy did that soothe
our souls. I thank God for bringing her into my life and that we stayed friends
for a long time. When the weather
allowed it, we went all together to East Berlin quite frequently for the
weekends since Heidi’s aunt and uncle owned a small piece of property there
with a cute little house and a nice yard in front and back. The borders of east
and west were still open and you could cross easily what a lot of people did
because school supplies, toys and other goodies were a lot less expensive
thanks to the exchange rate at that time. Well, Heidi and I were in paradise and believe
me the stories we made up became more real in that different environment, not
to forget the coffee and cake we were allowed to have on Sunday afternoons. The
adults were occupied with them self s and we just enjoyed what kids normally
do, playing with the water, playing hide and seek, dressing up in adult shoes
and just being plain mischievous.
One of those weekends was Sunday, August the 13th of
1961, the day that East Berlin began putting up the famous wall and stopped
everybody from leaving to West Berlin.
That night, we arrived on the S-Bahn (like the subway, just not
underground) at Bahnhof Friedrich Strasse, the famous train station where you
crossed from east to west and where you encountered the “Vopo’s” the East
German Volks Polizei, not very friendly
believe me.
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The other line between East and West Berlin was the “Check
point Charlie” that’s were you crossed from the American Sector to East
Berlin. I included some pictures for
you, so that you have an idea how it looked like. |
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I was 10 years old at the time and not knowing what to think.
I was scared when I suddenly saw the “Vopos” were coming through the train,
demanding to open our bags, emptying the content out on the floor for them to
sift through. They did not even stop at my doll which I had to undress since it
was a baby size doll and looked real to them. I still try to understand what
the purpose of that was, holding a machine gun towards a child and demanding to
open up the toy. All I remember is, that
I was so scared that I began to cry hard and fumbling with my doll, so they
ripped it out of my hands which made matters worse. But the most important thing was that Clara
gave me her last name on her registration papers which was Unterkreuter. Later
on, when I was 21 years of age, I found out that I had relatives in East
Berlin, and Uncle, Aunt and two Cousins and I carried their last name.
In Germany, specifically in Berlin, you have to register with
the Police every time you change your residency. The “Vopos” had their list of
registration and if your name just did bear a resemblance of one of their list,
you were out of luck and they kept you in East Berlin for years to come. All of
us were scared and with good reason, they kept Heidie’s uncle, who was already
in his 70’s in East Berlin and split up the family. That night, a lot of
families were broken up, a lot of people were so hurt. Some of the family
members never saw their relatives again because it took many years for the East
to allow just some of us at certain times to go back and reunite with family
members. The same was happen to us, Heidie’s aunt never saw her husband again.
When people tell me here in Miami, that I do not understand
Communism, I have to tell them, I saw it knew it and lived it. The times I was
allowed to cross the border, I had to be very careful what I was wearing or
what I was carrying. Forget Jeans, people in the East killed you for that, food
was scares fruit non existent and so was meet, including cold cuts, and if you
brought something the “Vopos” at the border they did not like, there was a good
chance that you could disappear and never been heard from again. the “Vopos” at the border they did not like,
there was a good chance that you could disappear and never been heard from
again. I am just so happy, that the wall
was taken down and family could be reunited again.
Well, let me continue my story even though I know, for some it
will be hard to read however, I am still here and trust me, everything passes. I
remember more from my school years because the abuse was daily physically and
emotionally. But the worst of all was the good uncle who supplied us with meat
every week. He was a butcher and working in a slaughter house where he could
take home meat which was close to the expiration date. I realized a lot later
in life, his reasons for bringing us meat every week, it was not because he
liked Clara no, he liked me. I do not know when it all began but it began
somewhere when I was about 6 years old until I was about 10 or 11 years old. I
forgot the days of the week, but I remember when he showed up, Clara left me
with him in the living room and disappeared for quite a while in the kitchen to
prepare the meat on purpose? Well, the
good old uncle loved to French kiss me while he fondled me at the same time. I
am realizing now since I am able to talk about it that Clara made me pay for
the meat with my innocence over and over again. If I just would have had some
one to protect me, I would have made lot less wrong decisions and would have
had a lot less pain in my life. It is still very hard for me to talk about the
weekly molestations without getting sick to my stomach. For many years until
late into my adulthood, I did not remember any of this it was buried so deep,
that I still cannot remember his name. I
believe strongly that God has been protecting me all those years from
remembering a lot of happenings in my life until it was time to tell my story. I
wish, I could tell you about a protected, pleasant and happy childhood but I
can’t.
Clara sent me to a catholic private school St. Francis, she
had to pay for my attendance every month, believe me so did I. We only had nuns
as teachers who were so strict they were always ready with a wooden stick to
punish you. Their favorite place was your hands back and front and they hit you
so hard and it was very painful, your hands became strawberry red, they swelled,
and it took hours for you to be able to use them again. The schooldays were
long sometimes interesting, but most of the time quite painful. It seemed like that the nuns picked me out of
the class the most because it was common knowledge that I was a foster child
and that discriminating against me was an ok thing. Most of the children attending at St. Francis
came from well off families who donated funds, furniture and what not to look
good when they go to heaven. The children by them selves were not much kinder
to me except for a couple them, my classmates teased me a lot about my skinny
legs and wearing these hand made stockings. I have to admit, they were awful,
Clara knitted them her self every winter, and I dreaded part of the winter time
for that particular reason while the other part of the winter time was
enjoyable. I loved the snow and could play for hours at a time in it. I loved
it, when we went to the park with our old wooden sled to play. Clara could be
nice once in a while and making me forget the darker site of her. I loved to play in the snow so much, that Clara
allowed me some times to go outside and play by my self with the children of
the neighborhood. Sometimes, as children do, we forgot the time and played
longer then we were supposed to. Did it happen quite a bit? You bet it did, but
no matter how much I was punished for that, it was a common occurrence in the
winter time. Once I got to the front door, she really reminded of me being late
big time. It did not matter if it was five minutes or half an hour, boy was
Clara angry. Now imagining your self standing in a lot of snow freezing cold
and wet, having been playing in it for quite some time. If you think she would let me in to warm up,
think again. Clara could get so mad, that she would let me stand at the front
door for hours at a time, and it did not matter that it got dark in the
meantime. No wonder, I had a lot of colds and problems with my tonsils being
infected however, she kept forgetting that.
There was one person I did like at lot at School, it was the
priest his name was “Pfarrer Schuette” who was keeping an eye on our souls at
school and in church. He was the only
one who understood the way I felt, that we were not wealthy and that there was
something he could not put his finger on when he saw me with Clara together but, I believe that he had his
suspicions about the abuse. Pfarrer Schuette always talked to me, when it came
to my problems with the class mates, he always gave me his ear. For my
communion, he gave me the bible and the candle which I cherished for years to
come. Today, he is still in my thoughts and I have not forgotten him. He was
the only catholic who was compassionate, caring and loving towards me without
any ulterior motives.
The other highlight I had in school and the one I looked
forward to every week were the music classes. We had a chorus which transmitted
every Sunday via the major radio station in Berlin “The Rias” the church service and I was proud to
be a part in that chorus even though, I
could not read notes but had a voice which carried and sounded really good.
However, not being able to read notes and not having really the mind for these
things, it became my downfall later and I was thrown out. Well mind you, the
teacher and conductor of our chorus was non other than the wife of the famous
world renowned Herbert von Karan, that gives you an idea how prestigious my
school and the chorus was (don’t ask what connections Clara had to keep me
there). I began learning the flute,
still not being able to read the notes, but it was very pleasurable to me and
being able to use my creativity helped me to forget for a while the abuse I had
to endure.
When I grew older I understood more about her actions. Her
biggest punishment in her mind was, sending me to my birth father to Australia.
I was so scared of that because I did not know him and especially that country.
She never let me forget that I was her foster child and she could send me any
where she wanted if I did not comply to whatever she thought I needed to do,
and the other constant threat over my head was the “Orphenage” for hard to
handle children which were like prisons believe me, you did not want to end up
there, abuse, torture, mental and physical abuse was a daily method for raising
children. But come to think of it, the so called regular orphanage where not
really a walk in the park either later on, I found out the difference with did
not account for to much. Well, to continue, I did realize that I became quite
an active child and it became a little more difficult for her to handle me so
she figured therefore, more discipline was needed to keep me under control but,
the more she disciplined me, the more I became a tomboy and ended up constantly
in physical fist fights, it did not matter if it was a girl or a boy I fought
with and sometimes it was a whole group at school sometimes it was fun when my
group got the upper hand, I do have to admit that. But the reasons why I became
like a tomboy was, it really did not matter what I would do that day punishment
was just around the corner anyway. Looking back, I was a very curious child,
always trying to discover and learning, a character trade I still have, it fueled
Clara’s fire to teach me and make me study more than I need at times. Now to
make sure that I really took in that knowledge and had the discipline to learn,
she sat next to me every day while I was doing my home work after school for
hours at a time with a wooden ruler in her hands, ready to come down on mine
should I bent the letters a little bit while I was writing, was not in line,
and if I did not write straight, I had to do it over and over again until Clara
was satisfied, with every single letter.
The good thing coming out of that is, my hand writing is very straight
and detailed now. I was always scared of homework when I was on my way to the
house from school, knowing, what would lie ahead. When I look at all those
things happen to me in my childhood, I must say that I still benefit from some
of her discipline, I love to study and to expand my mind. Whenever I do not
know the answer to something, I search for it until I find it. I believe
strongly in education and most of what I have learned is self taught and I am
still learning, but it came with a price and I know for sure, I would never do
that to my own children nor to any other children. I believe strongly in
guidance and understanding, not in punishment you can get more out of the
children that way and get more of their corporation, it is a two way street,
that is just my personal opinion.
In the summers, we traveled to
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I could walk for hours in the forest, clime up the mountains
or sitting on super big rocks which were strewn all over the wild rivers. I
remember such a peace because it made up for the rest of year, were I was in
physical and emotional pain for most of the time. This was my time and I took
advantage of it as much as I could. I learned the different type of mushrooms
and harvested them in abundance, I picked wild strawberries and blue berries
in abundance, I listened to the sounds of the birds, and the different
animals residing in the forest watching them watching me deciding what to
think about me or what I was doing in their territory. |
|
The way we are living our lives in the present time with all
the technology available, rushing and running all day long, it is hard even to
describe the tremendous peace I have felt back then. We do not notice the beauty
of God’s creations any more we do not stop to smell the air filled with the flavor
of the forest trees, or watch the water and water drops jumping over the huge
rocks strewn all over the wild river reflecting the sun. Watching the animals,
big or small and the harmony with which they go about their daily lives. When I
think back, I can see all that very vivid and wish, that I could be transported
to there right now. I was alone most of the time and very rarely did I play
with other children and then only when I was on the fields. The forest, wild rivers
and mountains where my domain, and I did not take any body there with me. Clara
was very occupied with her brother in law Uncle Jost. I believe now, that there
was something going on between them, but as long as I had the freedom for the
duration, it did not matter to me even though his feelings were running hot and
cold towards me. When I was in the house with them, I was depressed and could
not wait to get out any chance I had. The happenings in this house are somewhat
blurry to me and I just remember that I felt very uncomfortable staying there
most of the time and some things, like their love for beer and whine. They did
party a lot which again, took their attention away from me, it could not have
been better. The food I remember, I loved very much especially the home cured
bacon and fresh made cheese. I ate that all the time and even learned how to
make the cheese from scratch using the cream of the fresh milk from the cows
which I just milked in the morning. I have learned so much on these farms that
without a doubt, should the need arise, I could survive very well if no
technology were available, sometimes, I even wish we would not have so much, it
would bring people and families closer together to themselves and nature, but
who asks me? Uncle Jost did take time
with me teaching me how to hunt, early in the mornings at dawn, laying in wait
for the pray which was almost all the time a reindeer. I did not like that at
all and pretended I would look out for one, but every time I saw one, I made a
noise so it could run away. Uncle Jost did not like that at all and figured
that he was wasting his time and did not take me hunting any more, I did not
mind. The fishing was enjoyable and I became better than he did, but he did not
like that either, so that became a rare occasion. I could not stand it when we
had the hunted pray for lunch or dinner I could not eat it and ran away from
the table all the time. There were pigeons, and other type of birds ending up
on our table and I just could not handle it. But for some reason or another,
Clara was in peace with my behavior and left me alone. It must have been that
she wanted to show her self on her best behavior with him, and I loved it.
I wish, I could dwell a while longer on the beauty of
The next thing I remember was that I found a small piece of
paper on the floor one day which looked like a prescription from a Doctor but
not a local one, it was from a doctor in Austria, and it was not a
prescription, it was a diagnosis and recommendation to continue more tests to
make sure that his diagnoses was right. I looked at it scared and surprised,
not matter what happened and no matter how Clara treated me, the diagnoses
scared me and even at my age I knew what it meant. The doctor in Austria determined
that Clara had a brain tumor he was just not sure of the location and how
advanced it was, he recommended extensive testing. Clara became worse very fast
and I began taking over the daily shores including taking care of her, she
became bedridden so fast that I had to take care of her full time. Clare had a
sister which was not really on good terms with her but came over to look what
went on in our house however, that was the extend of it maybe some advise to go
to a family doctor with that piece of paper. The only other help I received at that time
was Clara’s friend whom she has saved in WWII which I called Aunt Kathy. Aunt
Kathy was Jewish and owned a clothing manufacturing company, she was forever
great full that Clara saved her from the Nazis back then and to show her
gratitude, I received a sample of her creations on every occasion and had to
wear them, boy did I hated these clothes, but I loved Aunt Kathy as long as she
did not interfere with my education.
Aunt Kathy was not very domestic and therefore not much help
to me in that department, and since she was so busy with her business, she
really did not have much time, but at least it was some emotional support to me
because she was the only one who was interested or cared about what I felt. The
only thing I did not need at that time was her consistent correction of my
language with was not bad, but it seemed she hated my Berliner dialect and
interrupted almost every sentence of mine, which did not leave much space to be
able to finish a whole sentence. I have to mention these things about Aunt Kathy
because that explains one of the reasons for some of my decisions later on, I
am just preparing you. Well, I do not
want to forget one of the regular guest at our house, which was the good old
uncle he just did not want to give up and continued to bring us meat. I believe
strongly, he wanted to continue to do with me what he was used too but Clara’s
illness prevented him from doing so besides, I had more freedom now, I made the
decisions in our house and there was no place any more for his abuse however,
the meat was appreciated. It did not take long that I also began to have the financial
control and was forced to be in charge of paying the bills, do the shopping,
cooking etc. It did not take to long for me to feel the effects of that
stressful situation. I became physically weak and suffered a lot from infected
tonsils and fever. School was awful. The teachers really had no idea what went
on in our house and the responsibilities I had to care for a dying foster
mother, I do believe, that they did not want to know, could have had something
to do with maybe showing compassion are even taking some responsibility to help
me out. Instead the teachers put me down constantly, it did not matter that I
tried to attend school on a regular basis even with the fever, the
discrimination was unbearable at times it showed through they punishment and my
grades began to fall. One of the male teachers was a real bastard, he
constantly embarrassed me in front my class by making fun of the way I was
dressed and my name by singing a famous drinking song which was written around
my name “Jeanette” means in German “Johanna” . I was always stubborn and stayed
in school and I was determined to graduate come rain or shine. In the meantime, I do not clearly remember, but
there was one doctor who showed up once in a while at our house and he voiced
his diagnosis standing in front of Clara’s bed and in front of me stating “It
looks like you almost drank your self to death”
meaning, well Clara you did that to your self. Even I understood his disrespect and never
let him into our house again. Some of the events are blurry to me but I do
remember that aunt Kathy brought a friend to our house who was a doctor and
transferred Clara to a hospital from where she would never return. At that time Aunt Kathy packed a few of my
things and made me stay at her house. I do have to say, she really meant well
but at my age, it was so hard to be with her, she was almost more controlling
than Clara besides not being able to finish a whole sentence without her
interruptions. The only time I had peace and enjoyed my stay with her was when
I visited the manufacturing plant and interacted with the girls who knew me
since I was little and taught me how to sew at a very early age, I even
designed dresses which they later manufactured.
I am not saying that all my memories are hurtful or painful even though
unfortunately most of them are, but there are times I do remember fondly
because I still turned out to become an optimist despite the circumstance and
that is what this book really is all about.
In the meantime, Clara deteriorated by the week and was
almost incoherent. When I visited her,
she sometimes remembered me and was concerned about my well being, but most of
the time her sentences did not make sense and she was heavily sedated. I was suffering to see her like that but felt
guilty at the same time about my new acquired freedom I thought I had, but that
was an illusion. I was under age and kept forgetting that, that I was not in
control and that always some one else made decisions about me if I liked it or
not if, who ever made the decisions cared about me or not, I even forgot who was
in charge at a specific time which is good in a way, less resentments to
carry. After about two months in aunt
Kathy’s house, I ran away (which by the way became quite a pattern) to our old building in the middle of the
night, where we have lived originally and where my friend Heidi’s aunt still
resided. She did let me stay there for a while but not without a price I found
out later. Clara had some beautiful original Rosenthal dishes from East
Germany, beautiful gold jewelry and Persian Fur Coats which were left in our
apartment and I did have the keys. My
hand made dolls with my own jewelry was also left in the apartment tucked in
the old big wood cabinets from the 1800’s. Little did I know, Heidi’s aunt had
been in contact with Clara’s sister who was snooping around to find out where
all our goodies were hiding to be able to enrich her self, never caring about
Clara nor about me, she could not wait for me to be put into an orphanage. Unfortunately, I was naïve and told Heidi’s
aunt that I had the key, I was just 13 1/5 years old and had no idea about the greed
and conniving behavior of human beings, especially not relatives remember, the
abuse I had encountered appeared normal to me and it was punishment for some
things I have done or supposedly done, and a totally different story. So, I gave them the keys, but I do not
remember why, but I believe they gave me a plausible reason but to make a long
story short, they took everything from the apartment, everything of value and
left me with absolutely nothing. My dolls, my personal jewelry, Clara’s furs the
dishes all that was gone when I went back in to the apartment looking for my
toys, nothing was left maybe a few of the real big furniture which were not
that easy to carry, unbelievable.
When I think about that now while I am writing, it becomes
more clear to me what really happened in those times and the audacity of the
grown ups to robe a child who did not have any relatives left, no money or any
other support and who’s care taker was dying in the hospital. I never really thought about the severity of
that situation because all my life I have tried to just move on but no matter
what, I never in my life would I have hurt some one or a child just to enrich
my self. I believe strongly in my subconscious, those happenings were burned
into my memory and I made sure by my way of living in the past and now in the
present, that all I want to do is to help people so they would not have to
endure the cruelness of others who have
no conscious or morals. I still get angry very easy when I see injustice being
done to humans or animals who cannot defend them self.
But let me continue to tell you what happened next even
though it is another blurry memory but some of it is still with me. Heidi’s
aunt, I still have to call her that, because I cannot think of her name no
matter what I try, must have called the Children’s Wellfare since there was
nothing else to profit from any more and so, I was placed in an orphanage a
catholic one, which was right around the corner of my High School which was
also catholic and connected to my school both belonged together how convenient,
I could not escape the cruelty, the psychological and mental abuse of the nuns
in the orphanage during nights and weekends and I could not escape the discrimination
and cruelty and psychological abuse of the teachers at that school during the
day. It was a no win situation it effect me for the rest of my life and also my
future decisions of handling life’s situation. I felt worthless, because that was the way I
was treated, orphans were garbage, if you did not have a mother or a father to
protect you or to check up on you at times, you became the target for the nun’s
frustrations and the guardians who worked there. They let you know emotionally
or physically if they had a bad day or something unpleasant happened in their
lives in other words, we became a human punching bag. There was one of the nuns, I remember her
name specifically, she was one of the leaders there in what respect, I do not
remember but she was something else and her name was “Sister Agnita”, the only
name I ever remembered from that orphanage. I felt like everything trembled
when she approached the living room or kitchen, we all were scared of her and
knew that she will be picking one of us to really let out her frustrations, we never
knew who would be the one and we all would wait quietly to see who she would
choose. It was like “Russian Roulette” you never knew what she would do to you
or who she would choose one thing we knew though, it was quite regular and
hurtful. Most of the time when she wanted to punish you physically for whatever
she thought you did, she would use a wooden stick, I believe now sincerely that
this was a fashion in my times and in my country. Did I make you smile by writing that? Good
because now, I can smile more often about the happenings, because they passed
long time ago. When Sister Agnita was in the mood for emotional punishment, you
were confined to your room, no food, nothing to read and no connection to any
body, all planned activities where cancelled no matter how important some of
them might have been. In the meantime, I
was still visiting Clara and only allowed to see her every two weeks. The weeks
in between, I was allowed by the orphanage to visit Clara’s sister, do not ask
me how that came about, I believe she asked the orphanage for permission. Let
me tell you, the reasons why Clara’s sister stayed close to me was very simple,
she wanted the rest of Clara’s belongings and asked me if she could have them
once Clara was dead. Why she asked my
permission, is totally unclear to me there must have been a reason but for me
at that time, visiting with her was an escape from the orphanage even if it was
only two days in a month.
Clara’s condition was so bad that she was always incoherent
when I visited her and the hospital just put her bed in a storage room totally
by her self. That memory still hurts,
and I cannot understand the reason for that treatment of a dying person, it is
beyond me. By writing all this, I must say that I am not proud of my heritage
at this moment this was so cold and with no compassion. Some people would say
that there is an equal balance, what goes around comes around, I am one of them
but what about forgiveness for a dying person? I still have the image of her in
lying in that storage room and the hospital could not have know what she has
done to me, so why such a cruel treatment?
It is amazing by facing our past what we can find out about our present
fears and hang ups, why we have them, it is revealing and liberating no
psychiatrist could have given me that experience I am having now by writing my
biography. Talking about biography, let
me continue with it so that eventually, I will be able to tell you all about
the good things life has to offer.
By my last visit to the hospital, nothing had changed with Clara’s
condition and the doctors only gave her a few days. They told me bluntly not to
come back and to forget about her, which was kind of hard to do but came with
some relieve. Initially when I looked at
Clara she seemed to be incoherent like usual but when I got close that changed
and in a split second Clara looked up at me with big, clear eyes totally awake
and began to speak. I was so shocked, that I lost my speech and just stood at
her bed site staring at her for a while listening what she was telling me, what
an experience. It was so important to her to tell me to take care of my self
and always eat enough so that I would never be hungry again so that I could
grow up strong. It was also important to
her to tell me that I should wear warm cloths in the winter time to avoid the
infection of my tonsils since this was a weakness of my body. It was her last
time to speak to me or any body for that matter, she never regained consciousness
again. I had no idea that the doctors were planning to operate on her the next
day and I just went back to the orphanage planning on visiting her in two weeks
despite doctor’s orders not to come back again. Come to think of it now, it did
not make much sense, putting Clara on the operating table and telling me not to
visit her again, but who am I to understand their reasoning. It was the middle of the week on a Wednesday,
December 2 of 1964, I will never forget that day, it was the day I would and could
visit Clara again and I got ready that morning for a long bus ride to the
hospital when I was told to wait until Sister Agnita would come and speak to
me. I sat for hours in the living room waiting for her and finally in the late
afternoon she showed up. I could not understand any of this because the time
that I could visit Clara that day had passed and it was now too late to go. When
she approached me, her demeanor did not look good to me it was scary to say the
least, and it turned out my feeling was right.
The first thing she shouted at me was a question asking me why I did not
visit Clara every week and what I was doing the Wednesdays in between those
visit. Totally scared of her, I tried to
explain the visits to Clara’s sister and that Sister Agnita should have known
that I had permission to do so, I was stuttering all the way and then asked her
why I could not see Clara today? She looked at me with cold eyes, no compassion
what so ever, and in a loud voice she said: “There is no need to see her any
more, she is dead now!” I do not know
about you, but when I have a traumatic experience or I am shocked beyond
believe, my mind just freezes up and it happened to me right there and then. After
that and I remember very clearly, I went to the chapel which was located in
another building next to the orphanage. The nuns took us there on Sundays for
service or special catholic celebrations, and that was the extend of it. It was
small with beautiful large stained glass windows, I do not remember the
specific designs just that they were so peaceful to look at. I sat down in the
front row of the Chapel and began to talk to God in my own way without reading
any verses or preset prayers, just Him and I communicating, it was mainly me
communicating but I believe now that God was listening. I have to stop for a
moment to let my tears do what they need to do and to work out this memory, I
am just realizing how much I was affected by Sister Agnitas behavior and her
deliverance of the news of Clara’s death. Whatever happened with me and Clara
and whatever she had done to me or allowed to be done to me, she was still the
person I knew best, who raised me, who fed me and clothed me, who saved me from
certain death and gave me a feeling of security no matter how fragile it was,
there was a bond if I liked it or not.
Talking to God quietly and by myself without having to have a
service or a lot of people around me, became a pattern which has been with me
throughout my whole life and is still to this day. There is such a peace doing
that in the midst of major challenges or traumatic experiences, but you have to
believe and know, that God is listening. I know for sure that my frequent and
quiet communications with God have sustained me throughout my life and still do
otherwise I could not write this biography because I would not be living to
write this, I did attempt to commit sure side a couple of times. Believe me,
there are too many things I have to remember and rather leave them alone not
touching them because these memories are hurting me again and I have had enough
pain already. But one thing I know, with
God’s help I will get through this and there is already a deliverance at times
which I would otherwise miss; this is very important for the healing process to
be able let go of these hurts and pains forever.
Sometimes I think, how could have all those things happened
to me, am I making up these events? The
reasons for these questions are simple, there is more, I am not done yet, my
biography is not finished yet and I have to continue. When you have finished
this book, and I sincerely hope you do, you will see life’s challenges in a
different way, with the knowledge and hope that there is a God who will sustain
you though everything no matter what, just communicate with Him at all times. I
do not care what you believe in or who you believe in, it does not cost you
anything to give it a try. However, that is up to you, just let me continue to
tell you my story, and a story it is.
After that day’s event, I walked around numb, I did not eat
or talk and all I wanted to do was to participate in a school play, which of
course was totally forbidden by Sister Agnita. Her reason for not allowing me
to do anything was that I did not cry day and night over the passing of Clara,
I just could not and dealt with it my way. It was two days later when I found
out through some one I do not remember from whom, that Clara was supposed to be
cremated against her will. I knew what her last wishes were since she always
talked about that, that as a catholic it was forbidden to be cremated. I panicked
and ran to the first priest I could find, friends of Clara and her sister trying
to prevent that, you can imagine, no adult would listen to me of course,
especially not to a foster child what was I thinking, there was nothing I could
have done. No one wanted to tell me when the funeral service would be held
until I found out from my brother Michael no less. The reason you never heard
me talking about my brother Michael or Peter for that matter was, that we did
normally not communicate because Clara and my grand aunts had an agreement with
each other to keep us a part, and it was successful. I never knew the reason
nor did I find out. But Michael somehow located me and told me the time and
place of the funeral service with the promise to take me there. I was a little
excited to be with my brother, finally some one from my own family a support
even if it was a small one. The day came, my brother picked me up and we drove
to the service not knowing what lie ahead. When we arrived, I saw Clara’s
relatives with Clara’s jewelry and mine, wearing her Persian fur coats, what a
site. Now I knew the reason they hid the time and place of the service from me,
so that I would not see what Clara’s relative had stolen from her and me. I did
not know much about inheritance or wills, I was too young but one thing I knew
was that everything was supposed to be given to me it was her wish, because Clara
always talked about that to me.
However all the things the jewelry and fur coats did not mean
much to me my dolls yes, I did miss them and was a little upset about them
being lost to me, but all in all, too many events and hurts happened for me to
give too much importance to those material things. Instead, I felt a big relief
and sadness at the same time about Clara’s death for which I felt guilty for
many years after. Following these events, the treatment of the nuns got a lot
worse because now, there was no one of Clara’s family interested in me any
more, they got what they wanted and just told the Child Welfare to leave me
where I was, there was no use for me any where and no one would have any time
to look after me. So, I became more quite and withdrawn at the orphanage and
began planning my escape while I became quite a clown at school, making
constant jokes and getting into trouble trying to get attention why, I do not
remember maybe it was just something I needed to do to deal with the abusive
treatment in the orphanages. Not that I
did bad things really, nothing worth mentioning, just some practical jokes and
the like. When it came out, I was severely punished by the nuns. Looked up in
those big bedrooms which were shared by about 6 or more girls with no supper,
not light or anything, the usual. Any function in school where I was supposed
to participate in, I was forbidden to attend, no laughing for me, because when
I did, I was told that I would not grieve for Clara and that I am supposed to
grieve, I was told that I had no feelings because I also did not cry like I was
supposed to, I could not cry, I was numb from all the abuse, I have learned not
to cry for many years because it did not change anything for me anyway. When I
went to school, the teachers, specifically one, made fun of me all the time and
treated me like garbage which motivated the other children to do the same to me
so, why cry? Finally, the following year at Christmas time I escaped with one
little paper bag, it contained some toiletries which I cherished very much
because I did like the smell of them, these were some Christmas presents, but
do not ask me who gave them to me, I just cannot remember that but they where
very important to me, so important to me that this was the only thing I took. I planned my escape very carefully to do it
when it was the day of my kitchen duties and I had to bring the garbage out
into the backyard through a hallway which led to the outside of the building.
This day came fast and I ran as fast as I could, leaving the garbage somewhere
strewn all over the hallway, but I was out. I do not remember with clarity
where I went to and how I was able to get there, I have to come back to that
later but I do not think that it has so much of importance considering the
events which came after.
After my escape from the catholic orphanage, I felt like that
new opportunities opened up for me and with that not thinking ahead, that there
will be more new challenges how could I, I was just a teenager who did not know
what to do and what would be the right thing to do. I thought that being relieved
of the abuse, having finally freedom and being able to make my own decisions
for my self, of course that was an illusion. As I somewhat remember, I went to
my old childhood friend aunt’s house hoping to find here there, but I didn’t.
Her aunt, I forgot her name, brought me to Heidi’s parents where she stayed and
they took me in for a few days. Heidi’s parents really did not care about her
and what she was doing so we made the best of it for these few days, caught up
on past and present events. It was a nice time we spent in her room, while she
drank cognac like a fish however, I still enjoyed her company and had finally a
feeling of comfortability which unfortunately did not last long. Heidi told me
that she brought bottles of cognac from the restaurant her parents owned and
hid it in her bedroom. I remember her telling me, that she was drinking a
quarter of a bottle a night. At that time, I had no idea what an alcoholic was
but understand that she was drowning the neglect and sexual abuse from her father.
While I was enjoying my escape, I kept forgetting that I was
an orphan, a warden of the state and just turned 14 but I felt like I was an
adult by now, I was not a child any more nor was I an adult and after about a
week, Heidi’s parents called the children’s welfare system and told them that
they really did not want me and had enough to handle with their own daughter,
so here I went again and the children’s welfare system had trouble placing my
in the appropriate orphanage because of my age. One of my guardian, I do not
even remember the name nor if he/she was male or female, placed me into an
orphanage for children and I was the oldest one there which did not bother me
except for the shores I had to do. I was in charge of making sandwiches galore,
which I hated and still do until today, had kitchen duties every day, watched
the children, put them to bed, etc. The orphanages used us children to work in
these places so they did not have to hire and pay more personnel which they
would have had to employ. We were maids, kitchen help, baby sitters, cleaning
ladies, laundry workers and put into other occupations when ever the need
arose. In a way, taking care of the little once was not to a bad part of it, I
did enjoy the children and it took my mind off the fact that life had not been
good to me and was inflicting a lot of pain on me. I loved the children
especially the little ones who really did not know what had happened to them.
They were so innocent and had a hard life already and it showed in their faces.
Some of them came into the orphanage with a lot of abuse and acted that out
with bad behavior however, I was able to work with them because I understood, I
felt their pain and could relate. I began to realize that there was so much
pain and hardship out there and that I was not alone, I am still very angry
about what has been done to children and what is still happening now,
unbelievable, don’t the adults not know that they were children them self at
one time? Little did I know, that it was
not over yet and that there lay more ahead of me in school, orphanages, more
foster care, more orphanages, with more emotional, psychological and physical
abuse to much that I really did not want to remember however, by avoiding or
burring the pain, it will not go away nor will it end the nightmares of torment
and fury from the child welfare personnel.
There are really no statistics nor is there hardly any
documentation available to describe the orphan’s fate. It was buried by the
system and destroyed by the private catholic, protestant institutions because
we did not matter, we were garbage, not worth anything we were just tolerated
used and abused. We had to endure living like that until we were 21 years of
age and at that time we were finally legally adults and spit out by the system
with no further help or guidance or most of them with no education and without
knowing how to live a normal life, animals are treated better than that. A lot
of the girls who were in these orphanages with me at that time, I met again on the
streets as prostitutes, criminals and vagrants living on the street or in
bordellos. Some of them even became members of the famous “Bader-Meinhof Group”
a terrorist group in Germany who robed banks for the purpose of creating a
revolution and at one time, they were known world wide. One of them was even a
roommate of mine which I have found out later after I locked her out of my room
including her cloths and all her belongings because she kept me awake at night
with her friends and disturbed my sleep. That did not go over well with the
Guardian but, I did get my way at the end. If I would have known who she was associated
with and that she was one of the leaders, I probably would have thought twice
about throwing her out.
Back to the orphanages and how they shaped my life in ways I
would not wish any one’s child to endure.
I began writing this biography in March of 2008
