THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1994, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Sunday, December 4, 1994 TAG: 9412040035
SECTION: LOCAL PAGE: B1 EDITION: FINAL
SOURCE: ELIZABETH SIMPSON
LENGTH: Medium: 66 lines
He remembers Christmas presents marked ``Boy, 13'' delivered to the orphanage door.
And sneaking midnight showers so he could bathe alone with all the hot water he wanted.
He remembers never having a bicycle of his own.
Those impressions come to mind when Roger Galle thinks about growing up in a boys' home.
I called him the other day after seeing one too many references to Newt Gingrich's idea of resurrecting orphanages for children of poor mothers.
One way to reform welfare, says Speaker-to-be Newt, is to take all those payments to children of mothers under 21 and use the money to build orphanages instead.
Wait a minute; haven't we already been that route? Didn't we decide it was better to keep families together instead of dismantling them? Hasn't anyone read Oliver Twist lately?
Roger's family of the 1960s was just the kind ultra-conservatives would divide in the 1990s: A young mother with not enough money trying to raise too many kids.
Roger is now 40, with a wife, son and daughter for whom he has methodically built a world of security. Probably because he and his seven siblings got shuttled through everything the social system had to offer.
Roger landed in a boys' home after two years with Chesapeake foster parents. Just the idea of moving from the comfort of a home, no matter how crowded or poor, to an institution frightened the 12-year-old boy.
The first day was memorable: Initially, he tried to run away when the social worker stopped for gas. Then, his clothes were stolen out of his suitcase while he took a tour of the place, and so was a roll of money he had tucked under his pillow. Before he went to bed, he visited all the boys on the ward and told them he'd pummel them if he found out they took his money.
It was the school of hard knocks and he quickly learned to knock back.
When benefactors sent him money for Christmas, he sent it back. ``I didn't want charity,'' he said.
There would be happier lessons along the way, too; lessons that Gingrich would quickly point out as evidence of success. The discipline and morals the director instilled in the rebellious young Roger. The practice of going to church twice a week. The friendships he made with other homeless boys.
Still, there was that big hole of family. He's spent 20 years trying to fill it.
When he came of age, he made a beeline back to Chesapeake to look up his mother, his foster parents and his siblings. Even though he never saw his foster parents again, he still calls them Mom and Dad. Testament, perhaps, to the power of two years in a regular home.
He's found his mother and six of his siblings. And recently sent out 200 letters looking for his youngest sister.
The desire to recreate that childhood family never died.
Roger can tell you there's no substitute for family. Or for a real home. No substitute for Christmas presents marked ``For Roger.'' Or a bike of your own.
Gingrich's idea of bringing back orphanages sounds more like a threat than an answer for mothers who can't afford to care for their children. A better answer might be training and jobs.
And anyone who doesn't believe that would do well to talk to any boy who ever got a Christmas gift marked ``Boy, 13.'' by CNB