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Orphans? They're My Problem?

Updated on September 15, 2011
Face-and-shoulders view of a SCUBA diver, with noticeable equipment
Face-and-shoulders view of a SCUBA diver, with noticeable equipment | Source

Legal disclaimers and other organizational details...

I don’t have any children. Least wise…none that I am aware of. It should be noted that I do not periodically conduct paternity surveys to find potential spawn issue…nor…should this be considered an invitation for others to deliver this disturbing information to me.

That being said…kids are great… when they are somebody else’s and sleeping.

As such… this latest literary offering has me feeling a certain sense of discomfiture as I question my qualifications to address this heartrending topic.

What happens when they’re not someone else’s kids…and what if they are not asleep?

Being a functioning member of our society, I believe that we are predisposed to help the weakest and neediest of our citizens. If not us…then whom?

I can’t help but think, however, that there are better qualified people for this particular task.

I was geared up as I thought I should be…again…no real frame of reference.

I was wearing blue surgical scrubs and the prerequisite paper hat and mask; however, I was unable to fit the paper booties over my swim fins. I had brought along a few specialty items as well…

Largely shielded from the realities of the birthing and children-ing processes…I had images of biblical floods of amniotic fluid suddenly engulfing the building in a cloyingly sticky fruit-cocktail type heavy syrup…

As such, I had wisely included the before mentioned swim fins, along with, goggles, snorkel, nose and ear plugs, and a spear-gun. I was determined to be ready for any contingency. I also had some candy for the older kids…

Louise Fletcher as Nurse Ratched in the 1975 film, One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest.
Louise Fletcher as Nurse Ratched in the 1975 film, One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest. | Source
A view of the door to a maximum security cell in the Old Montana Prison, displaying the screen on the outside of the bars to protect guards from the sloshing of the "honey bucket"
A view of the door to a maximum security cell in the Old Montana Prison, displaying the screen on the outside of the bars to protect guards from the sloshing of the "honey bucket" | Source

Nurse Ratched…

My fins beat an aquatic rhythm as I slapped my way across the clean linoleum floor to the nurse’s station. The room was airy and spacious with cartoon figurines adorning the walls in colorful and fanciful poses. Toy boxes stand ready to be ransacked by precocious children. The air smells slightly of disinfectant and freshly baked cookies.

“Hi,” I announce to the woman behind the counter, “ I would like to look at some orphans. I have candy.”

She was wearing a yellow nurse’s uniform. Peering over her horn-rimmed glasses at my get-up she asks suspiciously, “What exactly are you expecting to find back there?”

“Children.” I was surprised by her question. Her being a professional in the field…I assumed it would be obvious.

“Why do you have a loaded spear-gun?” She probed, “Do you intend to show the children how it’s used? Is this a show-and-tell? OH! Are you here to do a clown show?!”

My actual purpose for the loaded spear-gun was to keep the grubbier of the critters at arms length. I was riding a vibe from the woman, however, that suggested this answer would not allow egress past the electronically locked door. Still? A clown? (Shudder).

“My dear woman, I am not now…nor have I ever been…clown affiliated. I would be willing to show my loaded spear-gun to the children, however.” I answer in a dignified tone.

“Do you have loaded spear-gun certified-training?”

“Certainly.” With a flourish I provided the necessary Wal-Mart receipt. “I do indeed. ‘Roger’ from sporting goods (and paint) explained the essential details.”

“How did you get in the building?”

“I believe they were having an evacuation drill,” I admitted, “When I entered everybody started scattering. I took the elevator up.”

“You can’t bring that spear gun back there. Do you have any other weapons?”

I considered whether a poorly thrown Chinese fighting star constituted a weapon. “No.”

“Well, you can’t bring that near the children. You will have to leave it here at the nurse’s station.”

I hesitated. The thought of ‘bearding the lion’ in his den without any defense other than an, inaccurately thrown, Chinese fighting star gave me pause. Still…the (cleaner) kids needed me…

“Will I get a receipt?”

'Orphans.'     Oil on canvas
'Orphans.' Oil on canvas | Source
Tending Children at the Orphanage in Haarlem Jan de Bray  Oil on canvas  1663.
Tending Children at the Orphanage in Haarlem Jan de Bray Oil on canvas 1663. | Source
Actress Angelina Jolie and Actor Brad Pitt
Actress Angelina Jolie and Actor Brad Pitt | Source

Wait…is that? It is…

I’ve walked the halls of many a Humane Society holding area and the cost of the fare is usually a small part of my soul. This was different. This was worse. Perhaps it was the sentient nature of these poor lost creations. I wished I had brought more candy…

I walked through the wards and loitered in the day-room…moving through the building I witnessed the lost offspring of numerous races, creeds, nationalities, and beliefs. Each of the creations were languishing in splendid isolation…torn asunder from home, family, hearth, and friends.

Moving towards a specific ward, at the direction of Nurse Ratched, I was unwrapping one of the children’s (banana flavor) Starburst, when I stopped in astonishment. Wait…is that? It is…It made sense…still…

Not fifty-feet away was Angelina Jolie walking up the aisle with a shopping cart. Periodically she would stop, pick up an orphan, kiss it on the cheek, and put it in her cart. She moved around the corner... Wow.

Movement from the right gains my attention as Brad Pitt comes struggling up. Every manner of child seemed to be gripped upon every part of his body. His eyes were hollow pits of despair.

“Kill me,” He pleads as he comes level with me.

“Sorry Bro,” I commiserate as I hand his kids some candy, “Nurse Ratched took my spear-gun.”

With a groan he stumbles after his stunning wife…trailing children like drops of pancake mix on a hot griddle…

Before he had a chance to cover too much distance, I idly considered trying to chuck a Chinese fighting star into his back (you put him out of his misery), before noticing I was at my destination…

Orphan girls at the Aleppo Armenian orphanage 1923
Orphan girls at the Aleppo Armenian orphanage 1923 | Source

ThoughtSandwiches Ward...

I compared the list in my hand against the eighteen names on the chart...I was in the right place...

Gazing down at the ‘account setting’ page on my computer, I saw that each of my eighteen hubs was sitting in splendid isolation.

I had recently read on the Hubpages Learning Center that it was important to organize your individual Hubs into related groups. This affords a better presentation of your material while helping to drive increased traffic to your hubs.

Hubs, not so grouped, are known as ‘Orphan Hubs’. Orphaned hubs, unaffiliated with any type of group, fare less well in internet searches.

In a process that, I have to assume, is easier than changing a baby’s diaper…grouping your hubs is a simple task…I started off small.

I had recently published a six part series entitled, A Writer’s Hero Journey, and I intended to group them together under the category of ‘Literature’.

1)On your ‘accounts page’ click the ‘Groups’ Icon towards the top.

2) Add new Groups

a)A drop-down menu will provide you with a place to name your new group

b) Should you decide to rename this group, it is readily done within the ‘edit’ feature.

3) Edit Hub Group

a) Clicking the ‘edit’ icon allows you to rename your Group name.

b) Additionally, with simple drag and click movements, you are able to change the appearance of your Group within your status box.

4) No adoption is necessarily a given…should you decide to delete the group you can do so by hitting the ‘Delete’ Icon without throwing the baby out with the bath water. The enclosed hubs simply revert to ‘orphaned’ status.


Leaving the Building…

I was drained. Like the sad walks through the animal shelter halls…this experience took a toll. More to the point…I had finished all the candy. I also needed a Mountain Dew.

As I made my way out I couldn’t help but notice a ruckus, of alphabetical proportion, by the nurse’s station.

FBI, ATF, DEA, IHOP, and various other municipalities and acronyms were clustered around Nurse Ratched and looking at my loaded spear-gun.

Damn. I really wanted a Mountain Dew. I wasn’t confident that one, poorly thrown, Chinese fighting star would get me to the vending machine downstairs…

It was then that the celebrity couple, pushing several filled shopping carts, came up to me. The children, moving about in a swirling cacophony of sound and grubbiness, provided the perfect cover.

Crouching down…I grabbed hold of Brad Pitt’s pants-leg and moved past the phalanx of police officers and (Internationally recognized) breakfast servers…


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