The St. Joseph Home for Boys
The 8th Short Story
Blistered With a Smile
"Blistered With a Smile"
ANDY JUNIOR'S CHILDHOOD STORIES
The St. Joseph Home for Boys
My 8th 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.
During our first 3 years of our stay at the St. Joseph Home for Boys, between 1960 and 1965, my brother and I attended St. John's Elementary School on the southeast corner at the intersection of Cooper St. and North St. in Jackson, Michigan.
"Blistered With a Smile"
One warm afternoon, when Little Brother and I were walking back to the orphanage after school let out, my stomach itched like the dickens. I didn't think much of it until it wouldn't let up.
Getting perturbed, I yanked my blue dress shirt from my pants and lifted my t-shirt. I almost choked on my tongue. Totally shocked, I found a dozen or so reddish bumps on my belly.
I turned toward Archie and showed him. "Have you ever seen anything like this? It's driving me nuts!"
His blue eyes grew large as he leaned closer and touched a couple of the nasty looking bumps. "No, I have no idea what that is, but we better get home fast."
Both of us jogged the rest of the way to the orphanage. As soon as we got to our residence room on the second floor, I turned toward our caregiver and lifted my t-shirt again.
By then, the small bumps had turned into larger blisters, and one was bleeding from all my scratching. "What are these things? They itch like crazy!"
Gasping, Sister Scared-To-Death turned so gray I would have sworn she had already met St. Peter at the Pearly Gates of Heaven. Her expression frightened me to no end. Was my stomach going to fall off?
Before I could ask, she clutched my arm and practically dragged me down the hall. Stunned, I ran to keep pace until we reached the infirmary. What have I done now?
After close examination by a few icy fingers as the nurse had me flip from my back to my tummy, she declared, "I'm sure he has the chickenpox. We've got to keep him isolated from the other boys."
Confused, I shook my head. "Chickenpox? Isolated? What does that mean? I haven't been around the chickens for at least four days, during the last time my dad took me home."
Looking annoyed, the nurse muttered, "This has nothing to do with your chickens."
After explaining my predicament, Sister Scared-To-Death looked me in the eye. "Stay here, and don't leave this room."
I gulped. What are they going to do to me now?
Sitting like a statue on the examination table, I watched all the traffic zipping past the doorway. Never had I seen nuns move so fast as all the sisters, racing to-and-fro while they prepared for whatever they planned to do.
Needless to say, my life changed drastically over those next few days. In less time than it took my dad to build the doghouse, more boys came down with the chickenpox. After a week or so, things got much worse. The nuns corralled more than a dozen of us kids into two wings of the dormitory.
By some stroke of luck, my brother never caught a single one of those nasty blisters. He must have been blessed far more than I ever imagined.
Very few of the sickies smiled at me during our predicament, except a couple of the older boys whose fiendish grins warned me that they'd get even someday. I'd turn away and lie on my side to avoid their menacing glares. It's not my fault!
**********
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.
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 into my childhood at the orphanage in Jackson, Michigan that many people walked past as they wondered what went on behind those large doors. While the first few posts were quite sad in nature, I'm beginning to share some of the more humorous adventures in the life of Andy Junior, so watch for my 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 8th 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.
During our first 3 years of our stay at the St. Joseph Home for Boys, between 1960 and 1965, my brother and I attended St. John's Elementary School on the southeast corner at the intersection of Cooper St. and North St. in Jackson, Michigan.
"Blistered With a Smile"
One warm afternoon, when Little Brother and I were walking back to the orphanage after school let out, my stomach itched like the dickens. I didn't think much of it until it wouldn't let up.
Getting perturbed, I yanked my blue dress shirt from my pants and lifted my t-shirt. I almost choked on my tongue. Totally shocked, I found a dozen or so reddish bumps on my belly.
I turned toward Archie and showed him. "Have you ever seen anything like this? It's driving me nuts!"
His blue eyes grew large as he leaned closer and touched a couple of the nasty looking bumps. "No, I have no idea what that is, but we better get home fast."
Both of us jogged the rest of the way to the orphanage. As soon as we got to our residence room on the second floor, I turned toward our caregiver and lifted my t-shirt again.
By then, the small bumps had turned into larger blisters, and one was bleeding from all my scratching. "What are these things? They itch like crazy!"
Gasping, Sister Scared-To-Death turned so gray I would have sworn she had already met St. Peter at the Pearly Gates of Heaven. Her expression frightened me to no end. Was my stomach going to fall off?
Before I could ask, she clutched my arm and practically dragged me down the hall. Stunned, I ran to keep pace until we reached the infirmary. What have I done now?
After close examination by a few icy fingers as the nurse had me flip from my back to my tummy, she declared, "I'm sure he has the chickenpox. We've got to keep him isolated from the other boys."
Confused, I shook my head. "Chickenpox? Isolated? What does that mean? I haven't been around the chickens for at least four days, during the last time my dad took me home."
Looking annoyed, the nurse muttered, "This has nothing to do with your chickens."
After explaining my predicament, Sister Scared-To-Death looked me in the eye. "Stay here, and don't leave this room."
I gulped. What are they going to do to me now?
Sitting like a statue on the examination table, I watched all the traffic zipping past the doorway. Never had I seen nuns move so fast as all the sisters, racing to-and-fro while they prepared for whatever they planned to do.
Needless to say, my life changed drastically over those next few days. In less time than it took my dad to build the doghouse, more boys came down with the chickenpox. After a week or so, things got much worse. The nuns corralled more than a dozen of us kids into two wings of the dormitory.
By some stroke of luck, my brother never caught a single one of those nasty blisters. He must have been blessed far more than I ever imagined.
Very few of the sickies smiled at me during our predicament, except a couple of the older boys whose fiendish grins warned me that they'd get even someday. I'd turn away and lie on my side to avoid their menacing glares. It's not my fault!
**********
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.
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 into my childhood at the orphanage in Jackson, Michigan that many people walked past as they wondered what went on behind those large doors. While the first few posts were quite sad in nature, I'm beginning to share some of the more humorous adventures in the life of Andy Junior, so watch for my 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. Our residence room, while going to St. John's, was behind the windows of the 2nd floor to the far right above the bay windows in this picture. The dormitories, where I had my nightmares and was quarantined during my chickenpox, were located on the 3rd Floor, where you can see the cross in the front of the building.
Andy Junior, when he was attending St. John's, while living in the orphanage in the early 1960s.
St. John's stood on the southeast corner at the intersection of Cooper St. and North St. in Jackson, Michigan. I took this picture a few years ago.
The enormous dormitory, with a huge central room and 4 wings to the north and south, which, together, slept as many as 50 boys and took up the entire 3rd story of the orphanage.