REUNITED

WASILLA — As the older brother, Ray Lawrence is protective of his little sister, Evelyn.

One of the earliest memories the siblings share involves Evelyn’s beloved red tricycle. She was about 3 and he about 5 at the time. When Evelyn was naughty, her tricycle was placed in the hay barn at the family’s home in Ohio and she was forbidden to ride it. But that wouldn’t stop the strong-willed toddler, who would always find a way to get to the tricycle. One day, knowing his sister was in for more trouble if caught sneaking into the hay barn, Ray did the deed himself.

He got caught.

And their mother “was smacking his butt all the way into the house,” recalls Evelyn Farley. “It was so funny.”

For many siblings, collections of memories like these help shape fond recollections of childhood. For Ray and Evelyn, it’s the only memory they share. It’s a moment in time both reflected fondly on Friday afternoon four days after seeing each other again for the first time after decades apart.

A family fractured

At about the time of the tricycle incident in 1951, Ray and Evelyn’s father died, leaving their mother alone to raise nine children. Within the next year, their mother also suffered the loss of a sister and brother.

“As time went on, from what they tell me, she began losing it mentally,” Ray says. “She could not care for all these kids. They tell us that when then found us, it was in the winter and none of us kids had shoes, most of the boys had bib overalls, the girls had long T-shirts and we were out walking the streets.”

The state of Ohio stepped in and took custody of the Lawrence children. Because no single orphanage could take that many children at one time, they were split up, Ray says. Aside for an older brother he recalls roughhousing with, Evelyn, now 60, is the only sibling Ray, 63, has any memory of.

Shortly after the family was split up, Ray says he saw his sister once when he was about 7, and again many years later at her wedding in 1979. At the age of 5 and already in the foster care system, Evelyn was involved in a life-changing automobile accident. She still resides at an assisted living facility and operates mentally at the level of an adolescent.

“At the time (of the accident) she was 5 and I was 7,” Ray says, adding there are conflicting versions about how the little girl was ejected from a moving vehicle and hit by a truck.

“Momma told me to roll down the window,” Evelyn says. “I opened the door and the wind blew me out.”

Another account told by others in the car was that her foster mother “was exceptionally angry with her” and threw Evelyn from the car, Ray says. He saw his sister after she was released from the hospital, “then I saw her again when she got married, so there are three times … I remember seeing her.”

Even the wedding wasn’t a joyous occasion. Because she was in the care of the state, social workers didn’t believe it was a good idea for her to see her brother again. So, they had him removed from the wedding.

“I cried and I cried,” Evelyn recalls. “I remember the wedding. I cried my heart out because I had heard a lot of things, like Ray wasn’t going to come. He came, but he stayed for only half the wedding.”

“I was escorted away by Ohio officials,” Ray adds. “They felt I was a bad influence because once I would leave her, she’d cry and be upset.”

By this time Ray had joined the Navy, which would become his home for 24 years.

A hardened heart

Growing up in multiple foster homes, Ray says he never felt part of a family until he joined the Navy.

“Family is everything,” he says. “I had 13 foster homes from the age of 5 to 18. I absolutely loved the Navy. I found the people there cared for me, I was not going to be abused — well, other than (in) the typical military way. I even had my own clothing. I remember in boot camp guys fussing because we had to stencil our names on our shirts. I was thrilled to. I had a shirt that had my name on it.”

Add four tours in Vietnam and Ray admits that, while he constantly thought about his sister and other siblings, he didn’t do much to find them.

“I had no trust then and the Navy became my family,” he explains. “That’s probably why I stayed in for 24 years. My tours in Vietnam, as with most Vietnam vets, were not easy. You don’t go through a war and fly home to mom, apple pie and Chevrolet and everything’s cozy. You go through some trauma.

“There was a time in my life I had a very hardened heart. You would have never seen me cry. I was a steel worker, I used to be a bull rider. … I thought I could continue carrying these (emotions) with me. I had the (attitude) that I’m tough, I don’t need anybody.”

Although hardened by his past, Ray says he never stopped wondering about his lost siblings.

“Where are they at? Are they married? Do they have children? What’s been their occupations? Have they served in the military? I can go on and on,” he says with an emotional hitch in his voice. “Do they look like me? Are they short and chubby, or what?”

The thoughts “were constant, daily,” he says. Because his only real memory involved Evelyn, “As an older brother I felt like I wasn’t doing what I should’ve been doing in protecting her and making sure she’s OK.”

The search resumes

After retiring from the Navy in 1991, Ray moved to Wasilla to be close to the family of his former wife. By this time, he had a family of his own, and it wasn’t until a few years ago when his son, Douglas, took the initiative that Ray began to renew hope of seeing Evelyn or any of his other lost siblings again.

“Well, he’s a computer whiz,” Rays says about his son, who is now 40. “He called me and said, ‘Dad, I’ve got to talk to you about something that’s really bothering me.’ At the time my thought was he’s upset about (his son) Andy, who has joined the Army. Douglas is a former Marine. He said, ‘It’s really troubling me. I know you’ve tried to track your sister and brothers. If you don’t mind, I’m going to get on the computer — because I know you don’t know anything about computers — and I’m going to do my best to track whoever I can down.’ I said go for it, son.”

At one point, Douglas found a man Ray believes is an older brother still living in Ohio.

“Doug got me the name and phone number and I called the gentleman and I tried talking to him on the phone,” he says. “I first questioned him about his name, then I asked him if he knows his father’s name. He said yes, and wow, that’s my father’s name. I said, ‘We have to be brothers.’ He said, ‘Where are you?’ and I (told him) I’m in Alaska. Then he said, ‘Well, let me tell you about Lawrences in Ohio. Besides me and my son, every other Lawrence in the state of Ohio is in prison, so maybe you should just stay up there.’ Then he hung up.”

Ray has tried to reach the man again, but he won’t talk. Then Douglas called from his home in California to inform his father he though he’d found Evelyn in Columbus, Ohio, and had sent a letter to Evelyn.

“I got a letter!” Evelyn recalls with excitement. “I (always) believed. I said, ‘Read it to me.’ It said, ‘Evelyn, we’re looking for you. If you’re the lost sister of Ray, write back to us.’ … I knew this was going to be my lost brother.”

New beginnings

On Tuesday, the siblings finally saw each other again for the first time in 31 years when Evelyn and her helper, Dianne Jaynes, disembarked a plane in Anchorage.

“I was ecstatic,” Ray says. “I almost could not talk from crying, about like I am now. I knew it was her before she knew it was me. I called out to her just about the time she dropped her baby doll and all her other gear. It was wonderful. We both stood there and thanked God for each other.”

Evelyn remembers the moment as well.

“I said ‘finally,’” she says. “I looked at Ray a little better and — I got a baby doll, and I love her and I would never drop a real one, but I dropped that baby doll and I ran to him.”

At the age of 60, Evelyn finally had her big brother back, which coincides with other major life changes. Jaynes is teaching her to read and write and her trip to Alaska was her first ride in an airplane.

The story “is a tear-jerker, for sure,” Jaynes says while dabbing her eyes with a tissue. “I’m just so happy they have this opportunity to get together. It’s a very special reunion that’s very touching. Words can’t express it.”

Ray is also emotional talking about Jaynes, whom he said is “one of the family.” In the past 18 months, Jaynes has been teaching Evelyn basic skills many thought she’d never learn, an effort that hasn’t gone unnoticed by her brother.

“She’s the only person I’ve known in my sister’s entire life who has tried to teach her,” he says. “Now my sister has begun to count, and yesterday she recognized the words ‘barbecue sauce.’ She can be taught if we can get the right person. For someone who has had no schooling who is now 60 year old — this shows what a remarkable lady (Jaynes) is.”

Now, Ray says he sometimes has a hard time believing the reunion isn’t just a dream. Since he first learned she’d been found, “He’s been on Cloud 9,” says his wife, Elizabeth. “It was a miracle. I had two siblings and they’re gone now, so I understand his need to find them, because I know how much I miss mine.”

That encouragement from his wife was especially helpful after Ray suffered a heart attack in 2007.

“Elizabeth has been the first woman in my life, ever, to encourage me to try and find my siblings,” he says. “Anytime you can reunite with family members, that’s the best medicine for the heart.”

Ray acknowledges he could have done more years earlier to try and find his sister, but says harboring regrets about the past is unproductive. He also hopes his and Evelyn’s story will inspire others to reconnect with lost family ties or not take the families they do have for granted.

“Don’t ever quit,” he says. “Don’t ever give up. Until you know the answers, don’t accept what others tell you. Continue with your faith. I now have an even stronger desire for Doug to continue his search on the computer.”

And who knows, perhaps come December when the siblings can celebrate their first Christmas together there will be another red tricycle under the tree — and Evelyn won’t have to sneak into the hay barn to enjoy it.

Contact Greg Johnson at greg.johnson@frontiersman.com or 352-2269.