My great grandfather adopted two orphans from the “orphan train” that would come to New Orleans. One became a Dominican nun the other a Jesuit priest. My grandfather was a very devout German Catholic immigrant family man and a successful businessman in the early 1900s. He would often send bushels of oranges and other treats to the orphanages and kegs of beer to the nuns. I have and album of letters of appreciation written in the beautiful, elegant handwriting of that time thanking him for the gifts. Evidently the nuns liked a little nip or two after the children were in bed:)
I’ve known two women who were brought up in orphanages in the 1950s. One joined the order of sisters that ran the orphanage (because she was so happy there!) and the other went on to get married and have a very normal life.
Neither one of them was an orphan, strictly speaking; at least one of their parents were alive but simply left them there. In one case, the mother visited occasionally (not a happy memory) but in the other case, the parents had nothing to do with the child. Still, they grew up happy and healthy, thanks to the orphanage.
We need those orphanages to come back again.