BRIGHT RED PARKA
A Foster Mom Looks Back
Denny was one of the foster babies our family cared for in the '60s. A beautiful child with huge brown eyes, the softest bronze cheeks, dark hair that nicely hugged his head and a smile that would melt your heart! He wasn't our first, but the first who stayed for 18 months. Usually our infants were adopted within half a year, but this mother had a hard time making a final decision. You have to admire a mom like that. She had other children but couldn't afford another mouth to feed. It was hard for her to let him go. He arrived a couple months old in April of 1968 and left in Sept of 1969. Bruce, our youngest at the time, was 3 1/2 when Denny arrived and an almost 5 kindergartner when he left. Judy went from 6 to 7 1/2 and Dan from 8 to 9 1/2 while he was with us. We all loved him and he was soon part of the gang. We were campers and I have photos where John is carrying Denny in the back pack and Bruce on his shoulders. We had to remind our children from time to time that just like Sherry and the others, Denny would one day have a family of his very own and wouldn't need ours any more.
Denny was a crier and some days screamed a lot! Endlessly it seemed. He so wanted to be held. I should have asked for help with this troubled darling, but I remember thinking, "You signed up for this job and should be able to handle it by yourself." Until one late Spring day our neighbor Dot, from across the street, heard him again. A mom herself with grown up sons, she marched over and insisted on taking him for the afternoon. "Let me help you so you can get some work done." Work? Little did she know! With my 4 year old down for his nap, I immediately crawled into bed myself - feeling as cared for by her kindness as was Denny in her arms!
The summer after Denny arrived, my youngest brother was getting married in Miami. John knew how badly I wanted to go yet how impossible it seemed. "Why don't you go," he offered. "I'll take a week's vacation and stay home with the kids." We realized that child care would be a whole different ball game with a baby in the mix. We could either ask for a respite foster home for a week, or ask permission from Social Services for me to take him along. In the end, Denny and I flew off to Florida together. A first flight for both of us! Relatives lined up to hold this little charmer, so the crying was less of a problem than at home and the trip was a wonderful break for me! Back home John had a new connection with our three and even got some painting done on the house, as I recall.
In those days I loved to get a sitter and go downtown to shop occasionally while the older kids were in school. Shopping was my way of getting off by myself for a while. I loved the bargain basements at Edward's, Sibley's and McCurdy's. I'd come home with outfits for the kids, maybe some Christmas or birthday gifts, but mostly that wonderful feeling of being away from my routine and returning with treasures to light up the eyes of the kids! As I look at old photos today I can often picture myself buying that fabric or that beautiful little Easter dress - marked way down and perfect for our Judy! Or that little bright red parka for Denny. One day I found three vivid sweatshirts perfect for our trip out west. The kids wore them inside out at the campground and turned them right for visiting family or going into a town! Bruce's was yellow, Judy's bright pink and Dan's dark green.
For three weeks during his second summer with us, Denny did go to respite care. Friends of our family were also foster parents. We often babysat for each other so he was in a familiar place. We camped with my parents all the way to the west coast, visiting my sister's family in Oakland and another sister in Los Angeles. Everyone got a kick out of the inside out sweatshirts!
As that summer came to an end, we started to hear about a new home for Denny. We began to prepare the children for his move. After some visits with his adoptive family, a date was set. We talked about it. I wrote a note to the new parents about his routine, his favorite foods, toys etc. About how much we loved him and would miss him and how happy we were for them. Finally the day came and the children said goodbye before leaving for school. They knew Denny would be gone when they came home. I finished packing his clothes and toys and things. Then dressed him in a favorite outfit topped off with his cheerful red jacket. It was light weight cotton with a hood. The worker came around 10:30 am to pick him up. It was hard to say goodbye. With one last hug and kiss, I tried to save my tears till he was gone. He waved goodbye and so did I. At his age, he didn't understand.
About an hour later, Bruce's bus dropped him off from Kindergarten. Running into the house, he dropped his stuff and glanced around with a shocked look on his little face. "You shoulda hided him, Mom." With that the tears came back while we held and comforted each other. "Now Denny has a family of his very own - just as you and Dan and Judy do," I reminded him.
I recall that a few days after Denny moved to his adoptive home, I drove downtown to shop. I kept being distracted by a flash of red here and there - both in the stores and on the street. Each time I felt compelled to take a closer look. "Could that be Denny in that bright red parka in that woman's arm?" The image of my last glimpse of Denny looking over his worker's shoulder in his hooded red jacket was stamped on my mind's eye. For some time after he left I seemed to see red parkas every where!
JoMae Spoelhof
8/13/11
Foster children's names have been changed
