Izidor Ruckel kept in touch.

Unlike most children adopted from the Romanian institution where he spent 10 years of his life, he wrote letters and talked on the phone with his former nurses.

The more he spoke with them, the more he wanted to see and help children left behind in his native country.

This month, he finally realized his dream. He is in Romania now, thanks to an American TV network that paid for his plane ticket and helped him find his parents.

He said he plans to start an organization to help orphans from his native country when he comes back.

"Every child deserves an opportunity," he said.

Ruckel's journey started sometime around age 3, when his biological parents, Maria and Izidor Bojani, abandoned him.

He bounced around hospitals and orphanages, contracting polio in the process. Finally, he landed in a hospital for disabled children, deemed unfit for adoption, said his adoptive mother, Marlys Ruckel.

Izidor Ruckel, 20, who lives in San Jacinto, has few fond memories of that time.

"It was like being brain dead," he said.

For 10 years, he slept in a large room filled with small cots. Most workers weren't gentle when keeping a thousand-odd children under control, he said.

"You got smacked on the head," with a broomstick or shoes, he said.

The building was fenced in and children weren't allowed outside. There was little schooling.

"They didn't believe we deserved an education," he said.

During Ruckel's 10-year stay, 20 to 30 children died, he said.

Like most Romanian homes, the orphanage lacked heating and warm water. But children didn't lack food, no matter its taste.

There was bread and milk for breakfast; meat, corn mush with cheese or cabbage rolls for lunch; and pasta with jam or rice with milk in the evening.

"It was nasty," Ruckel remembers, pinching his nose.

But Ruckel was one of the strongest children despite his polio-affected right leg, he said, and he helped orphanage workers. They sometimes took him home, caring for him like their own child.

In 1991, Marlys and Danny Ruckel saw a videotape of a cute 11-year-old boy, whose disability they didn't mind.

It took six court dates over two months to adopt Izidor, said Marlys, who lives in Temecula. In October 1991, he flew to California.

He knew very little English. One of his first phrases was "no love you," after a fight with his new parents about a seat belt.

Marlys Ruckel decided to home-school the boy. He started at kindergarten level, but slowly caught up.

"I think anyone can learn if you have the patience and the courage to work with them step by step," Izidor Ruckel said.

He later enrolled at Temecula Valley High School.

By September 2000, he had undergone six operations to straighten his right leg and slow his left leg's growth.

His teen-age years were difficult, his mother said. He no longer was one of the strongest among his peers. He felt isolated and longed to go back to his native country.

He found phone numbers for nurses who worked at the orphanage and called them more often. He started working to save money for a trip to Romania.

Orphanage workers sent him photographs and Romanian Christmas songs. In recent snapshots, orphaned children wear denim, T-shirts and colorful sweaters. They're studying, playing in the garden or posing for pictures with staff members.

The orphanage was doing better, he was told. American, German and Dutch organizations sent supervisors and money to improve facilities and living conditions. There is a school and orphans don't have to leave when they turn 18.

This year, television reporters who had been following children from his Romanian orphanage got back in touch with him.

Suddenly, he was getting ready to go back after 10 years. He hopes to take photographs, shoot video and write a new chapter to his autobiography.

He also hopes publicity will lead other people to help Romanian orphans.

Wednesday, Marlys Ruckel talked to her adoptive son by phone from Romania. He told her he had met his biological parents and learned he has several siblings.

"He loves it and he's having a good time," she said. "I think he's going to be a lot wiser when he comes back."

Ioana Patringenaru can be contacted by e-mail at ipatringenaru@pe.com, by phone at (909) 487-2275 Ext. 255, and by fax at (909) 654-3978.