Blank Space

By Roger Dean Kiser, Sr.


"Boys, this is your new home now. This is where you will live from now
on," said the tall, black haired woman who was standing in front of us
kids at the orphanage home.

"Will this be our home for ever and ever?" asked one of the orphan boys.

"This will be your home until you grow up and go out onto your own," she
replied.

"I didn't even get to tell my mommy good-bye," said the little boy, as
he slowly bowed his head and he began to cry.

"Don't nobody love us, no way. We won't never have the good feelin',
ever again." I said out loud.

"You shouldn't talk like that, Roger. You're just a little boy," said
the woman.

"But that's the truth, ain't it? Don't nobody love us kids. We won't
never be able to have a mommy and daddy ever any more. Will we?" I
questioned her.

The room fell totally silent as we orphans looked up, waiting for her to
answer. But she never did answer. She just looked away and she said not
another word.

I was six years old when I was told that I would never again have a
mother or a father to love me. I'm not even sure that hearing those
words from her made any difference to me. But I do know this: I knew
right then and there that there would never be another hug, or a kiss
for me. I knew right then and there that there would never be a
piggyback ride or anyone to ever be proud of me.

As I sit her fifty years later I try, as best I can, to remember exactly
what it was that I felt at that very moment. But for the life of me; I
draw nothing but a total blank. A total blank must have been what I felt
at the moment that she spoke those words to us orphans.

A blank space is all that I was given to build a life upon. For years I
went to various reform schools, jails and then on to prison in 1965. I
walked out of prison on February 6th, 1969. That was the first day of my
life that I was ever free of the system. I had no where to go and I had
no where to turn. All I had was a baggy old suit, that the prison had
given me, fifty-five dollars and that blank space I had been given as a
child.

I was sent back to Alaska where it was fifty-five below zero when I
arrived. I lived for several days in a game-room, sleeping behind the
pin ball machines. Within a week I was broke and I had nothing to eat. I
asked the state of Alaska for help but no one would help me. I begged
for food from the army soldiers who would come to town on leave. Finally
I left Alaska two weeks later with twenty dollars a man had given me.

I did as best I could to build a life with whatever I had left. Which of
course was that blank space that the orphanage had given me.

Over the next thirty years I was married and divorced six times, and I
had 4 children. I could never understand why the marriages would not
work. I was kind. I was hard working and I was faithful.

Now as I look back I can see that all I really had to share with them
was that blank space that I carried inside myself. I don't suppose that
they will ever understand that I really did give, and share with them
all that I ever truly owned. My "blank space."

Many people have asked me what it takes to be a writer. I always tell
them that what is most helpful to me is that I always start with a blank
page.


Roger Dean Kiser, Sr.

trampolineone@earthlink.net    

Write Roger and let him know your thoughts on his story!

Roger Dean Kiser lives in Brunswick, Georgia with his wife Judy.
Roger is the author of "Orphan, a true story of Abandonment,
Abuse and Redemption", and his newest book Runaway: Life
on the Streets--"The Lessons Learned".
 
Autographed copies of his new book can be ordered at: http://www.geocities.com/trampolineone/survive/srv080.htm
 
You can also order his new book through Amazon.com at: http://www.amazon.com/Runaway-Life-Streets-Lessons-Learned/dp/1434335666/ref=sr_1_1/104-9646185-7275131?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1189544445&sr=8-1
 
Read more of his writing at his web site: http://www.rogerdeankiser.com

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