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Tuesday, July 10, 2007

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Among other contractors, we had an incredibly skilled carpenter at our house for a period of time when we first moved in. On about Day Five or so, this man, now a grandfather, told the children and me about being raised in the 1940s and 1950s at The Children's Home on Reynolda Road. He was very matter-of-fact, seeming neither happy nor sad about it, as he told us about the school, about the farm, about living with other boys.

When he left that day, the oldest, then six, asked me what a children's home was. I told him that once upon a time, it was a place where children who had no families, or whose families couldn't keep them, went. He immediately suggested we go over and pick up all the children and bring them home with us, which is exactly what I suggested to my own mother during my own childhood when she defined "orphanage" for me. I suspect this is every child's reaction.
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