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A Lost Child Finds Himself in Adulthood
"What really surprised me is he called me 'Mom' right off the bat," said Diana Watts of the first meeting with her son. "He seems to genuinely care."
(Erik S. Lesser - For The Washington Post)
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"The hardest part," Reese Hoffa said, "was losing my brother."
For months, the newest addition to the Hoffa family seemed withdrawn, his new mother -- now Cathy McManus -- observed. He rarely spoke. He played by himself. He called his parents "sir" or "ma'am" or "hey," but never Mom or Dad. Though he doted over the babies in the family -- Cari and, later, Chris -- it wasn't clear that he knew the names of his siblings, let alone aunts or uncles. He did not address them and did not seem interested in remembering.
One day, McManus asked Reese if he wanted a new name. He said "Michael Knight" in honor of the character on "Knight Rider," his favorite television show. They settled on Michael Reese, and he continued to go by "Reese."
New name or not, Reese, by then 5, had old longings. For months, he said, he wrote down combinations of numbers, a desperate, childish attempt to discover an avenue to his brother.
"I was," he said, "trying to figure out his phone number."
But the numbers, of course, never worked.
Bad Situation
Growing up in Louisville, Diana Chism had few friends and almost no family life. A biracial child with Anglo-Saxon features, she felt persecuted at school and shunned in her neighborhood. Even at home, she said, she felt isolated: Her older sister had moved out; her brother rarely came around. Her mother, who ran a bar and restaurant, worked seemingly around the clock, spending most nights at the apartment above the business. Chism never met her father. By the time she was 10, she said, she lived largely on her own.
She befriended an older boy in the neighborhood who treated her well. At 13, she became pregnant. But when Lamont Dion arrived, there was none of the typical celebration that surrounds a new life.
"When this child was born," Chism said, "it was no different than a Barbie doll to me. . . . I can't believe anyone allowed me to bring Lamont home."
Chism sent Lamont to government-sponsored day care but it wasn't long before she dropped out of school. At 15, two years after Lamont was born, she gave birth to Maurice Antawn. As her babies became boys, she found herself working 12 hours daily at a retail store but still struggling financially.
"It was just a really bad situation," Chism said. "I had two children, and no way to take care of them. We couldn't survive."
And then came the fire. Chism threw buckets of water on the flames until they were extinguished, but the fire smoldered inside the walls. By the time she noticed another burst of smoke, it was too late. Then, the only thing she could do was grab her boys and run. That night, they stayed at a hotel paid for by the Red Cross. Later, she and her boys bunked with her sister.
