The 5th Short Story
Rabid Dog
"Rabid Dog"
ANDY JUNIOR'S CHILDHOOD STORIES
The St. Joseph Home for Boys
My 5th Short Story
The St. Joseph Home for Boys stood on the northwest corner of Blackstone St. and Van Buren St. in Jackson, Michigan for more than 50 years. The Felician Sisters out of Livonia, Michigan, purchased the mansion from a local banker in the early 1900s and cared for up to 50 boys in the orphanage, between the early 1910s and late 1960s, before the building was unfortunately torn down.
In this short story, you will experience a taste of the emotional roller coaster many young boys endured during our stay in the orphanage.
Note: Our grandparents from my dad's side were immigrants from Poland, so we used Polish titles when addressing family members. We called our father, Tata, our mother, Mama, and our grandma, Babcia, whenever we spoke to or of them. When we talked of our deceased grandpa, he was referred to as Dziadzia. While my brother and I lived at the orphanage, our sister was cared for by Babcia who was already approaching 70 years of age.
"Rabid Dog"
After a week of being haunted by never-ending nightmares in the "dungeon," Mother Superior approached me and my brother, outside of the chapel on Sunday morning. She grabbed Archie's hand and waved me toward her. "Andy, follow me. A visitor has come to see both of you."
My heart leapt for joy. Yay! Mama and Tata are finally here to save us!
I could hardly keep from peeing my pants as we headed toward Mother Superior's office. Little Brother must have noticed my excitement and smiled wide.
We turned the corner, and there was our mother, sitting in a big wooden chair. My brother and I ran toward her as she jumped to her feet and bent over to hug us. We all held each other tight, rocking and swinging as we kissed Mama over and over again.
I was so thrilled to see her, but something felt wrong. "Where's Tata? Aren't you both gonna take us home?"
Not saying a word, she slowly slumped back in the chair. Her stare said it all.
Tears flooded my eyes. I desperately pleaded. "You're going to take us home, right? You gotta!"
She shook her head as she pulled us closer. "I want to, Sweetie, but I can't." Tears streamed down her cheeks.
I couldn't breathe and started gasping, one after another, then again. How can she not take us? I can't live here anymore!
I stared through the blur of my drenched lashes. "What do you mean you can't? Let's just go!" I grabbed her hand and tugged as hard as I could, but Mama wouldn't budge.
She sniffled. "I love you both so much, but Tata won't let me take you. I'd get into big trouble."
Lifting her handkerchief to her eyes, she cried. "I gotta go." She hugged us tight once more and rushed out the door.
Both of us kids bawled our eyes out as the nun held us back. Being stuck in that place was horrible enough but being told by Mama she wasn't going to save us was the worst ever.
Angry to the hilt, I bit my lip hard. How can she do this to us? I hate her!
From that point, I was mad as a rabid dog at everybody and everything. No more trying to be "Mr. Nice Guy."
At first the nuns ignored my antics as if they felt sorry for me or something, but I wasn't gonna let that stop me. Anytime one of the sisters asked me to do something, I pretended not to hear.
My plan worked like a charm. Trouble sniffed me out like a bloodhound on a rabbit's scent.
For a while, I didn't care one bit, until I spent more time facing corners of the wall with little time for recess with my brother. My carefully crafted plan backfired. To make matters worse, every time I thought about how much I hated Mama, the more I missed her.
After scuffles with a couple of boys, more lengthy punishment followed. My plans to remain a pain-in-the-butt began to fall apart. The only one feeling any butt pain was me, and my rear was starting to hurt like the dickens.
If getting into more trouble meant more spankings, my strategy needed some tinkering. Before I knew it, I began paying a lot of attention to what I was told. I thought the previous week was bad, but this week was definitely the worst of my life, and it was only Thursday. Will things ever get better?
I looked up toward the sky. Please help me.
**********
That's it for now!
So you don't get the wrong impression, when I had the opportunity to reflect back on my childhood, years after I had "grown up," I was very thankful for the Felician Sisters' care and the time I spent in the orphanage.
Life was quite different during the first half of the 1900s than it is today. I'm sure my parents both suffered tremendous turmoil about what to do with us kids. When they decided to divorce in 1960, our mom tried her best to care for us on her own, but it was very difficult for women to find decent jobs in those days that paid enough to properly take care of 3 very young children (sister 2, brother 4 and me 5). There were no daycare centers where parents could drop off kids before work and pick them up at the end of the day. Those types of childcare facilities came many years later.
After a few months, our mom finally had to give up custody to our dad who worked quite a bit of overtime to survive. Babcia (Polish for grandma), who was approaching her 70s, agreed to take care of our sister, but she could not handle all 3 of us little kids.
Not all of the lads in care of the nuns at the St. Joseph Home for Boys were orphans. Some, like my brother and I, were placed there as the only available means of a childcare center back in those days. The difference between then and now, when parents pick up kids at the end of each day, was that our dad only picked us up on weekends, if he didn't have to work overtime.
I'll share more pictures and short stories to go with the history lessons ahead. I hope you enjoyed this little peek into my life, back in the late 1950s and early 1960s. In my next post, I'll continue to give you a peek inside the walls of the huge orphanage in Jackson, Michigan that many people walked past as they wondered what went on behind those large doors. While these first few posts will be quite sad in nature, my later posts will share a lot of humorous adventures in the life of Andy Junior, so watch for those next stories.
Thank you so much for your support!
Andy Skrzynski
Note: The Felician Sisters provided the orphanage photographs and gave me permission to share them within "Andy and the St. Joseph Home for Boys" and social media outlets, including my website.
ANDY JUNIOR'S CHILDHOOD STORIES
The St. Joseph Home for Boys
My 5th Short Story
The St. Joseph Home for Boys stood on the northwest corner of Blackstone St. and Van Buren St. in Jackson, Michigan for more than 50 years. The Felician Sisters out of Livonia, Michigan, purchased the mansion from a local banker in the early 1900s and cared for up to 50 boys in the orphanage, between the early 1910s and late 1960s, before the building was unfortunately torn down.
In this short story, you will experience a taste of the emotional roller coaster many young boys endured during our stay in the orphanage.
Note: Our grandparents from my dad's side were immigrants from Poland, so we used Polish titles when addressing family members. We called our father, Tata, our mother, Mama, and our grandma, Babcia, whenever we spoke to or of them. When we talked of our deceased grandpa, he was referred to as Dziadzia. While my brother and I lived at the orphanage, our sister was cared for by Babcia who was already approaching 70 years of age.
"Rabid Dog"
After a week of being haunted by never-ending nightmares in the "dungeon," Mother Superior approached me and my brother, outside of the chapel on Sunday morning. She grabbed Archie's hand and waved me toward her. "Andy, follow me. A visitor has come to see both of you."
My heart leapt for joy. Yay! Mama and Tata are finally here to save us!
I could hardly keep from peeing my pants as we headed toward Mother Superior's office. Little Brother must have noticed my excitement and smiled wide.
We turned the corner, and there was our mother, sitting in a big wooden chair. My brother and I ran toward her as she jumped to her feet and bent over to hug us. We all held each other tight, rocking and swinging as we kissed Mama over and over again.
I was so thrilled to see her, but something felt wrong. "Where's Tata? Aren't you both gonna take us home?"
Not saying a word, she slowly slumped back in the chair. Her stare said it all.
Tears flooded my eyes. I desperately pleaded. "You're going to take us home, right? You gotta!"
She shook her head as she pulled us closer. "I want to, Sweetie, but I can't." Tears streamed down her cheeks.
I couldn't breathe and started gasping, one after another, then again. How can she not take us? I can't live here anymore!
I stared through the blur of my drenched lashes. "What do you mean you can't? Let's just go!" I grabbed her hand and tugged as hard as I could, but Mama wouldn't budge.
She sniffled. "I love you both so much, but Tata won't let me take you. I'd get into big trouble."
Lifting her handkerchief to her eyes, she cried. "I gotta go." She hugged us tight once more and rushed out the door.
Both of us kids bawled our eyes out as the nun held us back. Being stuck in that place was horrible enough but being told by Mama she wasn't going to save us was the worst ever.
Angry to the hilt, I bit my lip hard. How can she do this to us? I hate her!
From that point, I was mad as a rabid dog at everybody and everything. No more trying to be "Mr. Nice Guy."
At first the nuns ignored my antics as if they felt sorry for me or something, but I wasn't gonna let that stop me. Anytime one of the sisters asked me to do something, I pretended not to hear.
My plan worked like a charm. Trouble sniffed me out like a bloodhound on a rabbit's scent.
For a while, I didn't care one bit, until I spent more time facing corners of the wall with little time for recess with my brother. My carefully crafted plan backfired. To make matters worse, every time I thought about how much I hated Mama, the more I missed her.
After scuffles with a couple of boys, more lengthy punishment followed. My plans to remain a pain-in-the-butt began to fall apart. The only one feeling any butt pain was me, and my rear was starting to hurt like the dickens.
If getting into more trouble meant more spankings, my strategy needed some tinkering. Before I knew it, I began paying a lot of attention to what I was told. I thought the previous week was bad, but this week was definitely the worst of my life, and it was only Thursday. Will things ever get better?
I looked up toward the sky. Please help me.
**********
That's it for now!
So you don't get the wrong impression, when I had the opportunity to reflect back on my childhood, years after I had "grown up," I was very thankful for the Felician Sisters' care and the time I spent in the orphanage.
Life was quite different during the first half of the 1900s than it is today. I'm sure my parents both suffered tremendous turmoil about what to do with us kids. When they decided to divorce in 1960, our mom tried her best to care for us on her own, but it was very difficult for women to find decent jobs in those days that paid enough to properly take care of 3 very young children (sister 2, brother 4 and me 5). There were no daycare centers where parents could drop off kids before work and pick them up at the end of the day. Those types of childcare facilities came many years later.
After a few months, our mom finally had to give up custody to our dad who worked quite a bit of overtime to survive. Babcia (Polish for grandma), who was approaching her 70s, agreed to take care of our sister, but she could not handle all 3 of us little kids.
Not all of the lads in care of the nuns at the St. Joseph Home for Boys were orphans. Some, like my brother and I, were placed there as the only available means of a childcare center back in those days. The difference between then and now, when parents pick up kids at the end of each day, was that our dad only picked us up on weekends, if he didn't have to work overtime.
I'll share more pictures and short stories to go with the history lessons ahead. I hope you enjoyed this little peek into my life, back in the late 1950s and early 1960s. In my next post, I'll continue to give you a peek inside the walls of the huge orphanage in Jackson, Michigan that many people walked past as they wondered what went on behind those large doors. While these first few posts will be quite sad in nature, my later posts will share a lot of humorous adventures in the life of Andy Junior, so watch for those next stories.
Thank you so much for your support!
Andy Skrzynski
Note: The Felician Sisters provided the orphanage photographs and gave me permission to share them within "Andy and the St. Joseph Home for Boys" and social media outlets, including my website.

The St. Joseph Home for Boys orphanage stood on 11 acres at the northwest corner where Blackstone St. and Van Buren St. intersected in Jackson, Michigan. Mother Superior's office was just inside the door at the top of the steps that led into the south side of the building, where the overhang protected visitors from the rain. The overhang was no longer standing when my brother and I were placed in the orphanage in 1960. The dormitories, where I had my nightmares, were located on the 3rd Floor, where you can see the cross in the front of the building. The chapel was behind the bay windows of the front, right corner of the first floor in this picture.