I have been back and fourth on whether to write about this or not so I am taking a chance on a personal blog about parts of my childhood that I recall. My parents divorced when I was just five or six.  I had a brother and a sister at the time.  My sister was still in the crib. I remember the day Mom took us, she ran out of money quickly and we were living out of her car.  Finally she took us to the hospital and left us with Catholic Social Services.  They put all three of us in separate foster homes.  Not only did we lose our parents but we lost each other.  Two years later we were returned to my father and his new wife. It didn’t take long to find out we weren’t very important.  We didn’t know who we were and wouldn’t dare tell someone the secrets behind our closed doors.  Both stepmother and father were bad alcoholics and that’s where most of the money went. We were hungry most of the time, poorly clothed and sickly when we were young. We knew it wasn’t supposed to be this way.  One day after school my brother and I ran away I was in 2nd grade, he was in first.  Instead of walking through the park to go home, we went down the street with the row houses and when someone would answer we would ask if they had anything to eat.  The people who let us in, were having family dinner and everything was being passed around the table.  The smell was intoxicating and they let us eat to the full but they called the police and we had to say who we were.  My father beat us both for that.We were constantly running away, we didn’t get an Easter basket on Easter, just a bag of jelly beans, so we ran to Grandma’s house, we couldn’t find her house and asked the Postman where Grandma Stewart’s house was.  Grandma was not pleased at all, said she should tan our hides for this.  She took us home. I remember thinking through tears I’m going to be somebody when I grow up and I’ll never treat my kids this way.  We were not allowed out much to play, we had to stay in our rooms a lot. My Dad would put beer or soda cans on the door knob so he would hear us if we came out.  We had self-esteem problems, depression, anger and rebellion. I remember the last time I ran away alone.  I was 16, I was tired of my stepmother and father always saying I’d never amount to anything.  I lived in Delaware and I hitch hiked to Florida, just to prove I could do something.  It was not an easy trip and I can’t believe I actually did it and survived.  I called my father right away to tell him I made it.  He begs me to come home.  Things would be different this time.  I had to go to court for running away from home and they sentenced me to 9 months in this reform school.  The same one my mother was in when she was young.  I was there until after I was 19.  There was no fit place to send me they said.  Finally there was a break-out and when the door was left open I ran out the door.  So I was there 3 years and not one person ever came to see me, write me or anything.  I spent a lot of time in confinement while I was there, all I ever did was read, my only solace. As I draw this piece to a close always remember once you say something hurtful to a child or to anyone you cannot take it back.  Children are sensitive and you are shaping their emotional futures.  Do you show them you love them by caring for them physically?  Yes, I’m sure you do.  See I never belonged anywhere and if your own parents don’t love you then who will?  Cherish and protect your children, they are our next generation. I will follow this up with some more stories, I want to see your comments.