From the October 1967 magazine.

Torn for Twenty Years

It took three trips to a "state farm" and untold anguish before she would surrender

I AWOKE one morning, ten years ago, to find myself on a hospital cot.

I tried to retrace my thoughts. I had been drinking the previous day. I had felt very lonely because my children, aged ten and three, had sent no valentines from the foster home into which they had been forcibly placed. The judge had said I was found guilty of breach of the peace. Therefore I had had to move out of my apartment very rapidly and with a great deal of informal assistance. I was told that I had to go away for a "few" months. (Judges can be cryptic at times.) I was led into a building which, at night, looked like a hospital.

-- W. G.

Westport, Connecticut

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