This is the first of a series of daily excerpts from “The Legend of Morris Cerullo: How God Used an Orphan to Change the World.”
By Morris Cerullo
Morris Cerullo was a five year old with the mind and heart of a young adult. His difficult pre-school years only got harsher once his drunkard, widowed father dropped him and his four siblings off at their first foster home.
Morris was acutely aware of what was going on around him. He was growing up faster than any child should. He knew the pain of seeing his mother die when he was just two. He witnessed his father’s love affair with the bottle. He grudgingly accepted the fact that he was a “ward of the state.” For the time being he remained indifferent to the state of New Jersey’s involvement in his life, though that would soon change.
But most of all, young Morris grasped the harshest lesson of all: nobody in this wicked world really loved him. He was just another hungry mouth to feed, another naked body to clothe, another empty mind to educate, another potential criminal to be contained.
Little Morris Cerullo, the youngest of the Cerullo brood, was a lot of things, but he was certainly no dummy. The little boy with the fire in his eyes knew that if he was going to make it in this world he was going to do it on his own — and on his own terms.
So, when his father dropped Morris, his brother and three sisters off at a big house in a middle-class neighborhood in Teaneck, New Jersey, Morris’s adrenaline was flowing. It may have been late at night, but his system was on full alert. Morris knew that nothing good takes places in the shadows of the night.
Although he was too young to fully comprehend the implications of the exchange taking place, he sensed that something important was going down. Under hooded eyes he watched his father have a curt, whispered conversation with the owners of the big house, slam the door on his way out of the modestly furnished home, stride back to his car, and zoom away without a word to the children.