PRELUDE
Baltimore, Maryland
AUGUST 3, 1939
“My story begins on a sweltering August night, in a place I will never set eyes upon. The room takes life only in my imaginings. It is large most days when I conjure it. The walls are white and clean, the bed linens crisp as a fallen leaf. The private suite has the very finest of everything. Outside, the breeze is weary, and the cicadas throb in the tall trees, their verdant hiding places just below the window frames. The screens sway inward as the attic fan rattles overhead, pulling at wet air that has no desire to be moved.
“The scent of pine wafts in, and the woman’s screams press out as the nurses hold her fast to the bed. Sweat pools on her skin and rushes down her face and arms and legs. She’d be horrified if she were aware of this.
“She is pretty. A gentle, fragile soul. Not the sort who would intentionally bring about the catastrophic unraveling that is only, this moment, beginning. In my multifold years of life, I have learned that most people get along as best they can. They don’t intent to hurt anyone. It is merely a terrible by-product of surviving.”
This is the story of the Tennessee Children’s Home Society, the facility, “home,” where Rill Foss, who will be renamed May Weathers, and her siblings who become wards, as well, are also all renamed by Georgia Tann. Tann ran the TCHS from the 1920s until the 1950’s. Her goal was not a lofty one, but for earthly riches – the kind you can deposit in the bank. The children were occasionally surrendered; often women under the influences of drugs during labor were forced to sign paperwork they couldn’t see well enough to understand even if they could read it. Often, the children were taken from their own front yards, stolen.
Alternating between the present and the past, this weaves two narratives of some of the children who ended up at the Tennessee Children’s Home Society, their story as the children who have just been brought to the TCHS, what treatment they endured, survived – although, not all survived – and how these events shaped them as adults, as parents themselves.
What drew me back in, over and over again, was that I still found myself wanting to know what had happened to this family, and especially to Rill. What a marvelous character, a young girl in years, but ageless in wisdom, born to the river – I wanted to know the rest of her story.
Engaging, emotional, a slow unraveling of the history, weaving in present day dilemmas which, needless to say, pale by comparison - against the ones these children endured. That seems to be the way that life is. It’s so easy to complain about small things, until you wake up to the news that Mexico has had a devastating earthquake, or see the latest news about the wildfires in California, or that Puerto Rico still is mostly without electricity, food, water.
In the note from the author section, Wingate notes:
“The Foss children and the Arcadia were formed from the dust of imagination and the muddy waters of the Mississippi River. Though Rill and her siblings exist only in these pages, their experiences mirror those reported by children who were taken from the families from the 1920s through 1950.
“The true story of Georgia Tann and the Memphis branch of the Tennessee Children’s Home Society is a bizarre and sad paradox. There is little doubt that the organization rescued many children from deplorable, dangerous circumstances, or simply accepted children who were unwanted and place them in loving home. There is also little doubt that countless children were taken from loving parents without cause or due process and never seen again by their desperately grieving biological families.”
Many thanks, once again, to the Public Library system for the loan of this book!