I didn't think so at the time but my life was truly blessed as a child.  My brother and I ran away, I was 12 and he was 14.  We lived in Port Jefferson, NY above a little grocery store. 

On my way to school each morning I would tear a little hole in the large brown bag that hung from the door knob of the store.  The bag was filled with Kaiser Rolls and they tasted so good.  We didn't usually get breakfast and my stomach always hurt.

Sometimes the owner of the store would knock on our door when we were taking a bath. The water would be leaking into the store because Joyce, my sister, and I would be making too many waves.

My bedroom window was our way out.  We were able to jump from my window to the roof of the building next door.  There was an alley about 3 feet wide between the two buildings.  As I think about it now I realized how badly we could have gotten hurt.  At the time it seemed like a good idea.  Unfortunately we had to leave Joyce at home.  She was too little to go with us.

When Dennis and I ran away we were gone for 2 weeks staying with friends and sleeping in the window wells, on each side of the doors, at the library at night.  We ran into one of Mom's friends one day and she talked us into calling and letting Mom know we were ok.  We did.  The police were waiting for us when we walked in the door.

We were hauled away to Juvenile Hall and I ended up staying there for 6 months.  I wanted to come home after that but the courts would not allow that to happen.  Dennis was sent to Berkshire Farm for Boys, and 3 months later I was sent to Jennie Clarkson Home for girls.  I lived there until I turned 15. This stay turned out to be my most structured time as a youth.