Cottage #2 has the central courtyard as well, and it is not as overgrown so it is easier to see things like the flower bed. This one has a sign identifying it as Ruby Station.
I lived in one of those cottages, that was called “Cottage Two”, and my cottage parents were Mr. and Mrs. Rex, whom we called “Mom” and “Dad”. I went there in July of 1968, being transferred up from Child Haven in Las Vegas, after a failed stay at St. Jude’s Ranch. Mr. and Mrs. Rex were older at the time I came, and had spent their entire lives there, dating back to the original orphanage buildings. They were unable to have children, and had come there as a young couple from Texas, signing up for what must have been one of the biggest, and longest term, parenting job in history. Their job as parents never ended – and they always took us little ones with them on their vacations too. –Michael Corrieri
I lived at the children’s home from 1964-1973 Do not tear down cottage two without getting Louis Armstrongs Autograph off the wall in cottage two. it is in the small room between the cottage parents room and the laundry room. All the bigger kids were good to me and taught me baseball and football. Still love it today. Its a place where I can go and always remember my children’s home brother who let a girl play with the boys. Oh yeah you taught me well I taught my three boys how to play. –Martha Reddick
One of the strangest memories I have of that place is one from one of my first days there. Dad Moore was in his office, a tiny room off the front entry to the house we now all lived in together. He was sitting at his desk and so had his back to the doorway where I stood. I had a question, though I do not remember now what it was, but I remember I needed to get his attention. I knew that all my “cottage sisters” called him dad, so I figured I would too. However, as I stood there, needing his attention, I could not say the word “dad.” It was as if while my mouth shaped the word, my stomach knotted and I was unable to use my lungs to speak it. It had never been a part of my vocabulary in that way. I mean, I used the word when talking about other peoples’ fathers, but I had no memory of ever having a man in my life that I had given the label “dad.” I literally choked on the word and stuttered it out that first time. It was so quiet that he did not hear it and I nearly walked away, afraid that I could not muster up enough nerve to say it again. Nevertheless, I stood there, palms sweaty and feeling ready to cry, and I did say it again. I got his attention and asked my question, but I will never forget how hard it was to say that one word. As the weeks went on I grew to love him very much, and gratefully called him dad till the day I left. -Misty VanHavel
We had fabulous flower beds all the way around our home, with a big sunny porch that faced the ball field. Mom (Mrs. Rex) was an osbsesive gardner, and we would drive their little truck out to a sheep ranch every fall, and load up on manure to spread on the garden beds for the following spring. She had one several prizes for these flowers – and we all shared in the glory. –Michael Corrieri
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