What are some of your earliest memories of life in the orphanage during the 1950s?

Some of my earliest memories from life in the orphanage during the 1950s & 60s are a mix of vivid impressions and fleeting moments. I remember the echoing halls lined with austere beds, each one a solitary island in a sea of quiet desperation. The smell of disinfectant mingled with the faint scent of hope and longing that seemed to linger in the air. 

I recall the faces of the other children, each one bearing the weight of their own untold stories and hidden sorrows. We were a ragtag family of misfits, bound together by circumstance rather than blood, finding solace and companionship in each other’s shared struggles.

There were moments of fleeting joy amidst the monotony of daily life – stolen glances and whispered secrets exchanged under the cover of darkness, makeshift games played in the shadowy corners of the orphanage, and rare glimpses of kindness from the weary caregivers who did their best to fill the void left by absent parents.

But alongside these moments of light, there were also shadows – the ache of loneliness, the ache of longing for a family I could call my own, and the ache of knowing that I was different, set apart by circumstances beyond my control.

It was Thanksgiving, and for once, my younger brother and I were going home from the institution to spend the holiday with our parents. There was a fragile hope in the air, as our parents attempted to mend the fractures in their relationship.

How did the environment and conditions in the children’s homes shape your perception of the world around you?

My environment was a microcosm of society, reflecting both its harsh realities and fleeting moments of compassion.

The lack of familial stability and support fostered a sense of independence and self-reliance from a young age. I learned to navigate the world with resilience and resourcefulness, adapting to the ever-changing dynamics of life within the institution.

The starkness of the environment and the regimented routines instilled a sense of discipline and order but also reinforced the harsh realities of life for many children who found themselves in similar circumstances. It was a place where survival often took precedence over sentimentality, where vulnerability was met with stoicism, and where resilience was forged in the crucible of adversity.

Yet, amidst the challenges, there were moments of fleeting connection and compassion that left an indelible mark on my perception of the world. Acts of kindness from caregivers and fellow residents offered glimpses of the inherent goodness within humanity, reminding me that even in the darkest of places, there is light to be found.

As I said earlier my environment was a microcosm of society and within society you had the predators and the prey that certainly existed within the walls of the institution I learned very early that the predators only pray on the quiet. Some of the prey actually saw that as an advantage to their survival.

Overall, the environment and conditions in the children’s homes shaped my perception of the world as a place of both hardship and resilience, where adversity coexists with moments of grace and compassion. It taught me to see the world through a lens of empathy and understanding, recognizing the complexities of human experience and the enduring power of hope in the face of adversity. There is nothing in life that is all good for all bad.

Can you describe any pivotal moments or decisions that helped steer your life in a positive direction after leaving institutional care?

One pivotal moment that helped steer my life in a positive direction after leaving institutional care was the opportunity to access a camera and use a dark room to develop my photos. This occurred when I was around 12 years old, and it became a transformative experience for me.

The dark room provided me with a sanctuary—a place where I could escape from the challenges of my environment and immerse myself in the world of photography. It became a refuge where I could channel my creativity and express myself freely, away from the scrutiny and judgment of others. In the solitude of the dark room, I found solace and purpose, honing my skills as a photographer and discovering a passion that would shape the trajectory of my life.

Photography became more than just a hobby; it became a lifeline—a means of self-expression and a pathway to a brighter future. Through the lens of a camera, I learned to see the world with new eyes, capturing moments of beauty and significance that might otherwise have gone unnoticed. It empowered me to reclaim control over my narrative and share my unique perspective with others.

In hindsight, the gift of access to a camera and the dark room was instrumental in helping me navigate the challenges of transitioning out of institutional care. It provided me with a sense of purpose, identity, and direction during a time of uncertainty and transition. It instilled in me a sense of resilience and determination to pursue my passions and carve out a path for myself, despite the odds stacked against me.

Ultimately, this pivotal moment laid the foundation for my journey as a filmmaker and creative visionary, empowering me to turn adversity into opportunity and find meaning and fulfillment in the pursuit of my artistic endeavors.

I remember you telling me, the Christmas story can we talk about that?

Christmas Eve 1965 stands out in my memory as one of the most surreal and heartbreaking experiences of my childhood. It was a time when my mother, perhaps driven by guilt or some other unknown motivation, decided to bring my younger brother and me to her home in Saratoga Springs, New York, for Christmas Day.

The day began with a glimmer of hope as my mother arrived to pick us up from Vanderheyden Hall, the institution we called home at the time. I can still recall the anticipation building within me as we prepared to embark on this rare journey to spend the holiday with our mother.

As the snow began to fall softly outside, casting a serene blanket over the landscape, we set off towards Saratoga. But as the journey progressed, the snowfall intensified, swirling around us like a flurry of emotions.

And then, in the midst of the swirling snowflakes, came the piercing brightness of flashing police lights. My heart sank as a police car pulled us over, its presence casting a shadow over the holiday cheer we had hoped to find.

I remember the stark illumination of the police officer’s flashlight as it pierced the darkness of the car interior, illuminating the truth of our situation. My mother, arrested for drunk driving on Christmas Eve, shattered the fragile illusion of normalcy we had clung to.

In the aftermath of her arrest, my brother and I found ourselves in the back of a New York State trooper’s car, our journey abruptly halted and our hopes dashed. I can still hear the soft sound of my brother’s tears, echoing in the silence of the car, as we were returned to the familiar confines of Vanderheyden Hall.

In that moment, words failed me, and all I could feel was a profound sense of numbness

How did you perceive your biological parents while growing up in the orphanage? 

My perception of my biological parents was marked by a mix of curiosity, longing, and uncertainty. While they weren’t actively part of my life, their absence loomed large, casting a shadow over my sense of identity and belonging. 

At times, I found myself yearning to know more about them – to understand the circumstances that led to our separation and to fill in the gaps in my own personal history. I wondered what they were like, what their lives were like, and whether they ever thought of me. Their absence left a void in my life, a lingering sense of longing for the parental love and guidance that I had never known.

Yet, alongside this longing, there was also a sense of ambivalence and detachment. Without the presence of my biological parents in my day-to-day life, they remained distant and enigmatic figures, more like characters in a story than real people. I struggled to reconcile the idea of them as my parents with the reality of our separation, leading to a sense of disconnection and emotional distance.

Overall, growing up in the orphanage, my perception of my biological parents was shaped by a complex interplay of emotions – longing, curiosity, ambivalence, and detachment. Their absence left an indelible mark on my sense of identity and belonging, shaping my understanding of family and relationships in profound ways. 

Sunday mornings held a special significance—a glimmer of hope amidst the routine of loneliness. Like clockwork, I would sit by the entrance, waiting  with anticipation… as I waited for the familiar sight of my parent’s faces. But week after week, my hopes were dashed as they failed to arrive, leaving behind only a lingering sense of disappointment.

In those moments of longing, my closest companion was a young black boy by the name Billie Henderson, a spirited boy whose infectious laughter could brighten even the gloomiest of days. And it was through Billie that I found solace in the company of his grandmother, Miss Henderson—a woman whose unwavering kindness and warmth became a beacon of light in my otherwise uncertain world.

One Sunday, as Miss Henderson returned from her weekly outing with Billie, she noticed me still sitting by the entrance, my eyes fixed on the horizon. Her expression softened with empathy as she approached me, her words a gentle balm to my heart.

“Somedays this world just breaks my heart,” she murmured softly, her voice filled with a depth of understanding that resonated deeply within me.

It was in that moment of shared empathy that Miss Henderson extended an unexpected invitation—an invitation that would forever change the course of my life. “How about you come along with us next time?” she suggested her smile a beacon of hope amidst the darkness of my despair.

The following Sunday, I found myself stepping into a world I had never known—a world of faith and community, of love and acceptance. As Miss Henderson led us down the aisle of Souls Saving Station for Every Nation, I felt a sense of belonging wash over me—a sense of home that transcended the confines of blood and lineage.

In the embrace of the church’s congregation, I found a sense of unity and acceptance that I had long yearned for. And as the music filled the air, lifting our spirits and stirring our souls, I knew that I had found something truly sacred in the most unexpected of places.

Through the kindness of Miss Henderson and the warmth of the church community, I discovered that family isn’t always defined by shared DNA, but by the bonds of love and acceptance that unite kindred spirits. And though my mother’s absence still cast a shadow over my heart, I found solace in the knowledge that I was never truly alone—that in the heart of a vibrant Sunday morning, amidst the halls of the orphanage, I had found a home.

Did you harbor any resentment or longing towards your parents as you grew older and reflected on your upbringing? How did your experiences in the orphanage influence your views on parenthood and family dynamics later in life? 

As I grew older and reflected on my upbringing in the orphanage, I experienced a mix of emotions towards my parents, including resentment and longing. While I harbored resentment towards them for their absence and inability to provide the nurturing and guidance I craved as a child, I also longed for the sense of connection and belonging that comes from having a loving family. This inner conflict was a constant companion as I navigated my journey towards adulthood.

My experiences in the orphanage profoundly influenced my views on parenthood and family dynamics later in life. Having grown up without the stability and support of a traditional family unit, I came to value the importance of emotional connection, stability, and unconditional love in shaping healthy family dynamics. I recognized the profound impact that parental guidance and support can have on a child’s development, and I was determined to create a nurturing and supportive environment for my own children, should I have them.

Looking back, I gained several valuable lessons and insights from my time growing up in the orphanage during the 1950s. Firstly, I learned the importance of resilience and adaptability in the face of adversity. Despite the challenges I faced, I was able to persevere and thrive, finding strength in the bonds forged with fellow residents and caregivers.

Secondly, my experiences in the orphanage taught me the value of empathy and compassion towards others. I developed a deep appreciation for the shared humanity that binds us all together, regardless of our circumstances or backgrounds.

Finally, my upbringing instilled in me a profound sense of gratitude for the simple joys and blessings in life. Through the hardships and struggles I faced, I learned to find beauty and meaning in the small moments of connection, kindness, and resilience that sustained me through the darkest of times.

Overall, my time growing up in the orphanage during the 1950s shaped me into the person I am today, instilling in me a sense of resilience, empathy, and gratitude that continues to guide me on my journey through life.