Gotterdammerung

By W. F. Twyman, Jr.

Chapter 61

The Boston Orphanage for Boys

When his parents both passed away, Robert Lynch moved in at the age of sixteen with an older brother and his wife. Lynch felt disoriented in the world save for a desire to blame the colored man, to view the colored man with scorn and derision, to suppress the colored man at every opportunity. He soothed the ache of loss by throwing himself into achievement as if more and more and more power would heal his psychological wound. But demonic compulsiveness is cosmetic, never insightful.

And so as he grew into manhood, Lynch found order in the external accoutrements of college, law school, political office and the U.S. Senate. The fear of abandonment never left and, as an accomplished adult, he would wake up from nightmares of being ignored and left alone. He never married as he found companionship in his external aims, aims blind to the needs of his inner soul.

While working as a young attorney one day, he stumbled upon the Boston Orphanage for Boys, a private charity set up by the St. Paul's Episcopal Church. It was a normal day, nothing out of the ordinary. The young attorney was deep in his thoughts contemplating how he would not reveal incriminating evidence on direct examination but allow the Respondent to open the door on cross examination. As he thought out possible strategic moves in his mind, he noticed a ball roll into the street in front of him. A young colored boy, probably seven years old, stepped into view. Lynch scooped up the ball and threw it back at the child. He looked up and saw the sign The Boston Orphanage for Boys on the building. Having lost his parents, he immediately felt affinity. He stepped up to the front door out of curiosity and knocked on the door.

"Can I help you," asked Father Connor Clarke who answered the door.

"Yes, I was curious. My name is Robert Lynch and I have a law practice here in town. I noticed the sign outside that this place is an orphanage for boys. I lost my parents while young. Can I come in and visit?"

"Why, of course. We welcome interest, and support, from our citizens. We do our best to feed the hungry and clothe the naked as scripture teaches. And the young without parents are the most vulnerable."

Lynch stepped inside the front door, crossed a hallway and walked into a courtyard teeming with children of all ages, mostly native whites with a minority of immigrant, colored and indian children. One child came up to Lynch and said, "I read a book for the first time today. I dreamed I told my father and in my excitement he smiled and lifted me up in the air and then I came too and realized it was all a dream and there was no one to share my book story with. Can I tell you? Will you be my papa for a moment?"

Lynch removed his jacket. He found a bench, sat down with the boy, and rolled up his sleeves. "Yes, read your story. I'm excited to know what happens." And the boy excitedly read the story to Lynch.

Another little boy, red-haired with blond eyes, noticed Lynch attending to the story. He rushed up to Lynch and the boy reading the story and quickly interjected, "When my father died, I felt cheated. Why did he leave me?" And then the little urchin ran off.

After the story was read, Lynch hugged the reader and he skipped away. An Irish immigrant boy found the courage to approach Lynch and shared "I just miss my mom. She died giving birth to my sister." Lynch's eyes watered up as he reached out to the boy. He hugged the boy for as long as it took for the waves of sadness to wash away.

Father Clarke walked over to Lynch on the bench.

"Here, I wish to give you a contribution. It is not much but it will contribute to making their lives easier." Lynch handed over all of the currency on his person to Father Clarke. "Can I return every so often after work? I'm an orphan and perhaps I can help ease their suffering." Father Clarke readily agreed.

"I want to be a source of comfort in this world."