Mother left. He and a partner bought a cafe in a small Missouri town; and while Father
was away on a business trip, his partner sold the cafe for cash and skipped out. A friend
wired Father to hurry back home; and in his hurry, Father was killed in a car accident at
Salinas, Kansas. Two of my father's sisters, who were poor and old and sick took three
of the children into their homes. Nobody wanted me and my little brother. We were left
at the mercy of the town. We were haunted by the fear of being called orphans and
treated as orphans. Our fears soon materialised, too.
I lived for a little while with a poor family in town. But times were hard and the head of
the family lost his job, so they couldn't afford to feed me any longer. Then Mr. and Mrs.
Loftin took me to live with them on their farm eleven miles from town. Mr. Loftin was
seventy years old, and sick in bed with shingles. He told me I could stay there 'as long
as I didn't lie, didn't steal, and did as I was told'. Those three orders became my Bible. I
lived by them strictly. I started to school, but the first week found me at home, bawling
like a baby. The other children picked on me and poked fun at my big nose and said I
was dumb and called me an 'orphan brat'. I was hurt so badly that I wanted to fight
them; but Mr. Loftin, the farmer who had taken me in, said to me: 'Always remember that
it takes a bigger man to walk away from a fight than it does to stay and fight.' I didn't
fight until one day a kid picked up some chicken manure from the schoolhouse yard and
threw it in my face. I beat the hell out of him; and made a couple of friends. They said he
had it coming to him.
"I was proud of a new cap that Mrs. Loftin had bought me. One day one of the big girls
jerked it off my head and filled it with water and ruined it. She said she filled it with water
so that 'the water would wet my thick skull and keep my popcorn brains from popping'.
"I never cried at school, but I used to bawl it out at home. Then one day Mrs. Loftin gave
me some advice that did away with all troubles and worries and turned my enemies into
friends. She said: 'Ralph, they won't tease you and call you an "orphan brat" any more if
you will get interested in them and see how much you can do for them.' I took her
advice. I studied hard; and I soon headed the class. I was never envied because I went
out of my way to help them.
"I helped several of the boys write their themes and essays. I wrote complete debates
for some of the boys. One lad was ashamed to let his folks know that I was helping him.
So he used to tell his mother he was going possum hunting. Then he would come to Mr.
Loftin's farm and tie his dogs up in the barn while I helped him with his lessons. I wrote
book reviews for one lad and spent several evenings helping one of the girls on her
math's.
"Death struck our neighbourhood. Two elderly farmers died and one woman was
deserted by her husband. I was the only male in four families. I helped these widows for
two years. On my way to and from school, I stopped at their farms, cut wood for them,
milked their cows, and fed and watered their stock. I was now blessed instead of cursed.
I was accepted as a friend by everyone. They showed their real feelings when I returned
home from the Navy. More than two hundred farmers came to see me the first day I was
home. Some of them drove as far as eighty miles, and their concern for me was really
sincere. Because I have been busy and happy trying to help other people, I have few
worries; and I haven't been called an 'orphan brat' now for thirteen years."
Hooray for C.R. Burton! He knows how to win friends! And he also knows how to
conquer worry and enjoy life.
So did the late Dr. Frank Loope, of Seattle, Washington. He was an invalid for twenty-
three years. Arthritis. Yet Stuart Whithouse of the Seattle Star wrote me, saying: "I