The Only Man I Ever Knew Who Wanted to Kill Santa Claus: One man’s angry heart made by several angry people

This is not an easy story to tell and it with a sadness, and a heavy heart, that I have to tell it. Wayne and I were raised in the Children’s Home Society Orphanage in Jacksonville, Florida. 3165 Sad Diego Road to be exact. From the age of three to age fourteen we children at the home were unloved, unwanted and were considered as undesirable. We were considered to be as useless and nothing more important than ＂a head of caribou in Alaska＂ as was stated by Judge Marion Gooding of the Jacksonville Juvenile Court on Market Street. The head Matron, Mother Winters agreed completely. I have to admit that Wayne and I were not the most desirable children to have around. With nothing to do except rake the large yards and no time to be kids, we were always in some sort of trouble. Nothing major, I might add. Just totally bored, and sad and lonely, year after year, and just being sad kids. Wayne and I were not good friends at first. Generally, he and I would end up in physical fights and would be taken to Matron, Mother Winter’s office for a stern talk and set up for a beating on Saturday in the cottage sewing room. And Boy! Did those beatings, with that wooden paddle, really hurt. Over the years I could not count the beatings he and I received. It was in the hundreds. The more beatings we received the more we began to hate those in authority. We became afraid to do almost anything, which also included learning at school. The kids at school made fun of us for being at the orphanage so many times Wayne and I had to fight in order to survive. The bullying was none stop.