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Every day after school, we would have to catch a bus to day care, where we would stay until Twin was finished with work. That was a big challenge for me because even though I was only seven years old, I had been spending time out on the streets, fending for myself and learning how to handle myself around the older kids. It felt like an insult that I was suddenly expected to spend time in after-school day care, when I already kind of viewed myself as an adult. I think Carlos felt the same way. That arrangement continued the whole time I lived at Twin's house, and I don't think we ever really got used to it.

School and supervision after school weren't the only things she was strict about, either. Every Sunday morning, Twin loaded all of us boys up and we headed off to church. "You might be foster children, but you are God's children, too," she told us. And I guess she wanted to make sure that God had no grounds to complain that He didn't get visitation rights, because we started with the seven a.m. service, then Sunday School, and then stayed through the eleven o'clock service. It was a long morning. Sometimes, one or more of us boys was even roped into working as an usher, handing out church programs and opening doors for people as they came in.

We sang in the choir for a while, too. As part of the music program, you could learn to play the recorder or the triangle and then everyone would perform in church. We all wore robes, which was good because even then I was bigger than most of the other boys in the house and definitely all the other kids my age. The robes were very forgiving in terms of fit, so I was able to blend in with everyone else. We sang all the time with Twin, even when we weren't in church. She and Thelma were always teaching us church songs, spirituals, Gospel music. They also taught us folk songs, like "If I Had a Hammer" and music from Up with People, that super-positive group of college kids that tours all over the country.

On weekends, sometimes we would sell newspapers on corners and at stoplights on busy roads, which is a popular thing in Memphis, and other weekends we'd go camping. The Twins would load up all of their foster kids into an old trailer that was parked in Velma's backyard, and we'd drive out to somewhere just outside of Memphis and enjoy the outdoors. They had some old bikes that we took along and we'd ride those around. Those trips were a fun treat because they gave us a chance to see something other than the city. I think they were a treat for the Twins, too, because we'd always play so hard we'd completely wear ourselves out and be pretty calm for a day or two after getting back.

The rules and discipline that Twin had in her house were important for me to see because I had never lived with that kind of structure before and it definitely took some getting used to. The first few nights I lived with her were very tough because I was so mixed up about how fast my life had been turned upside down. I wasn't just in a new house and away from most of my family, but I had a whole new way of thinking to get used to, with chores and schedules and discipline and rules even about things like bedtime. I'm glad to say that she told me I never got in much trouble at her house or in school, but I didn't obey because I was happy about the way she ran her house. I followed the rules because I was afraid that if I didn't, something terrible would happen. Back in the old neighborhood, I'd seen kids get smacked around and screamed at, so even though my mother took the other extreme of no rules and no real emotional response to anything at all, I knew that physical abuse was real and it was common.

Now I understand, of course, that Twin definitely wasn't the kind of woman who would beat a child. But back then, she was a stranger to me and I sure didn't think that she loved me. After all, who could love a bunch of kids they don't even know who get dumped on their doorstep? That was what I believed at the time, anyway, and