Foster couple made a lifelong impact

This is the time of year when I always remember Ray and Phila Smith. I first met them when I was a surly teenager. They seemed old at the time, but then, everybody over the age of 30 appears old when one is young.
I knew them for less than a week. My world had fallen apart that year, and I was a resident of St. Clair Springs Children’s Home in Eaton, Ohio. Most of the kids there were sent home for Christmas. A few of us were not, and we were shipped off to foster families so the people in charge could have a break. Enter Ray and Phila.
Charmin and I went home with them to spend a few days. We had endured oodles of do-gooders since Thanksgiving. Every organization in the area wanted to do something for “the poor children.” As a result we had a party every night between Thanksgiving and Christmas. It got so that we participated in their activities, smiled a hollow smile and said thank you for the candy they always passed out. After everybody left, we set the candy aside and scrambled to do our homework in the little time that was left before bedtime.
I always wondered how we “poor children” were supposed to manage the rest of the year when all the do-gooders were conspicuously absent.
We had each received more Christmas presents than I had ever seen. It was extremely overwhelming. I was used to getting a few presents. The uncles and their families would visit. Everybody would leave. Then a day or so later there would be a huge fight. I was always glad when school would begin again and I could escape for awhile.
After weeks of parties and an overabundance of presents, the quiet of Ray and Phila’s house was a welcome relief. We went with Phila and helped her set up poinsettias in several local churches. The first one we went to was a Catholic church. I remember asking her if she was Catholic and being puzzled when she said she wasn’t. I couldn’t imagine decorating a church where I wasn’t a member. She said she did it every year.
When night came we were shown to a double bed. Apparently we were to sleep together. We sat down and the bed enveloped us. It was quite unnerving. Neither of us had ever experienced a feather bed before. We settled in and were surprised at how well we slept.
One day Phila showed us how to use pastels. These were a cross between chalk and crayons. Under her gentle guidance we each produced a picture that was far beyond our usual artistic abilities.
Another day they got together with friends who were also serving as foster parents. It was all very awkward, but everyone was so incredibly nice that we made the best of it.
Most of the remaining time I spent curled up on the corner of their couch reading. They let me be, which was the best present they could have given me. Charmin spent time with Ray, helping him in the barn.
When our time was up, we returned to the children’s home and our usual lives. The following Easter I returned to Ray and Phila’s. This time Charmin’s sister, Vickie, accompanied me. The feather bed seemed more friendly the second time than it had the first.
I tell you all of this, not because I want you to feel sorry for me, but to tell you that the simplest of things can make a huge difference in someone’s life. By being themselves, they made a difference.
I doubt if they ever realized that someone who spent a few peaceful days curled up on their couch almost a half-century ago would still recall them with fondness.
I looked them up today before I started writing this. Phila died in 1992. Ray survived. There were no children listed. I couldn’t find an obituary for Ray but assume he has also passed on. These good and decent people will always live on in my heart.