Disabled

Disabled is a new feel good word. Part of the politically correct wave of the 2000's. What does it mean. Well it is a box full of meanings that can be used to excuse any and all human failures. But to people that really are disabled it is a curse. Before the Liberal feel good era, things were called by a description. Crippled and handicap was the common usage. I never thought much about those words, in spite of having a mother that fit those descriptions. We, children of Margaret (Rita) had never known her any other way. But let me back up a little.

My Mom at the age of 18 yrs. lost her right leg and left foot. She was run over by a train. She was a passenger on the train and attempted to move from one car to another when the train lurched and she fell from the platform. The whole train ran over her. That should of been the end but for many unusual circumstances. First it was a bitter cold winter in North Dakota and that in itself should have sealed her fate. But it actually saved her. You can imagine that, when one of the major arteries is cut that a person bleeds out very fast and dies. But the cold actually froze the blood and kept her from bleeding to death. Then a heavenly messenger in the form of a old farmer and his mule driven wagon stopped at the tracks before crossing. Noticing a flock of crows on the ground and in the air he hitched the reins and got off to see what was laying there. To his horror the bundle of rags that he thought he saw, was a woman covered with blood and the crows had already began to move in for their carron. He threw rocks at the birds and ran back to his wagon to grab a blanket. Rolling the woman into the blanket he carried her to his wagon and then whipped up his mules and rushed down the road to the next town. There the doctor had to decide whether the victim was worth saving or not. As my mother warmed up she began to moan and cry. That decided the doctor and he told his nurse to find someone that could and would donate some blood for a dying woman. The blood transfusions of that day were crude compared to now but a local man matched her blood type and laid down on the next table and the blood was transfered directly to my mother. A long story but to shorted it some she survived. And the railroad admitted partial guilt and paid for the hospital and a small sum for pain and loss. And in a grand gesture I am sure they thought, they gave her a life time pass on their railroad. She never used it.

Finally she was able to go back to Sioux City, Iowa to her parents home where she stayed. After months of staying inside her bedroom and seeing no one but her family, the radio announced a carnival was in town. In those days a carnival was a big exciting and welcomed event in the lives of all. So Mom decide she would go to the carnival. Her siblings laughed at her and her father refused to take her. But one thing Mom had was stubborness (and a trait that I have inheired from her) so she dressed up with her only nice dress and with her crutches she walked out the door. It was approximately 2 miles one way to the Fair Grounds from her folks home. And part of that was a mile long viaduct bridge spanning the stock yards and a river. I have seen that viaduct bridge and it has only a very narrow walkway on one side of the bridge. Not more than three feet wide. I can't imagine how it would have been to walk that tightrope with cars and trucks whizzing by just inches away from you. But Mom did it. When she arrived at the carnival she told us that it was full of colorful lights and people everywhere. The sounds and smell of popcorn and cotton candy were a heady difference from a sordid stale bedroom. And then she heard her name called.

"Rita, Rita is that you?" Turning she was surprised to see a former school classmate of hers, Edith. The girls talked and talked about the accident and what all they had been doing since school and then Edith introduced her boyfriend and her brother. All that night the four-some talked and laughed and enjoyed themselves. Edith's brother showed his skills at the shooting gallery and gave Rita a big stuffed bear he had won. Finally the night was late and Mom was so tired and still had to walk back across that bridge to home as she explained to Edith.

"Oh No you are not going to walk in the dark across no bridge, my brother will take you home." stated Edith.

Her brother, George, agreed with his sister and helped her into his Model A Ford and took her home. As he walked her to the door he asked her for a date for the next week. This must have astounded my Mother but she agreed. Edith is my aunt and George is my father. We kids, seven children she gave birth to, came after the marriage and as I mentioned before we never knew our mother any other way but with just one leg. She did finally get an artificial leg but it was very crude in those days and she still had to use her crutches to walk.

It was in our grade school days that we discoved that our Mom was different from the other kid's Moms. And we were embarrassed and angry at the way people and the kids stared at her. Some just looked once and then quickly looked away avoiding her and never talking to her. That is when we heard the word "cripple" I am sure our Mom felt the pain and hurt of the treatment she got but if it bothered her she never showed it. If anything she was determined that she would show the world that she was not handicapped. She could do anything or at least most things that any other mother could do. And so the people in our neighborhood learned that Rita was an organizer and activist. She joined the new PTA and ignoring the stares, she got behind the microphone and stated her views and asserted that they all must, as parents, support the teachers and the way to do that was to join the PTA. She made her point and was a powerful voice in the school district. And the schools were not all that felt her push and shove. She was an advocate for the minorities and for the handicap. She wrote letters to Congressman and Senators. It was not a surprise to the neighbors to see a big black sedan with Police motorcycle escort show up and park in front of our house. She had the ear of politicians and activist all over the country.

And when she wasn't beating politicians over the head she was organizing us and our neighbor kids into doing a play or a production of American Band Stand in our basement. All the mothers would show up and she would have treats for everyone. And then the curtain (old shower curtain) would go up and we kids dressed like the actors and dancers on the TV would sing and dance and sometimes pantomime the songs. No matter how bad it was the mothers and Mom always clapped so hard that we blushed. I in particular blushed more because in one of those plays I was required to kiss the heroine. (Nancy Swanson) My first kiss.

As I sit here in a wheel chair and contemplate getting my crutches out so I can go out and fool around in the garage, I think about my mother and how she lived the life I am now living and have been for the last month. But she lived like this for 60 years. What a heart that woman must have had. How she shunned being called a cripple and lived through the rude looks and 'behind the hand' remarks. What courage she had to go ahead with life and the devil be damned. I couldn't have gotten a better mom if I had the choice ahead of time. And my Dad, what a man he was. What compassion and love he gave my mother. I am sure it burned him up when people stared at her. They were married for 56 years and at the end Dad did all he could to prepare Mom to live by herself. I think he knew he had cancer and did not tell any of us. He put all his affairs in order and designed and built a mechanism for Mom to drive the car just using her hands. The last year I saw him was at Labor Day when all of us kids got together. Dad asked me to take his guns home with me and clean them all up and safety check them for the hunting season. I asked him which ones he wanted me to do. He said "all of them, Son" I thought at the time that was strange but I told him I would be happy to do it for him. The day after we got back from Sioux City, Mom called us kids and told us that the doctor at the VA hospital had called and Dad had Cancer. He died three months later.

One sister was to move in with Mom to take care of her, but she wouldn't have it. She sold the house and moved into a assisted living apartment. And quickly took it over. Yes the elderly patients soon were wearing costumes and acting in plays and singing and dancing every Friday night.

Mom had a heart attack and died three days after. We kids all made it back to Sioux City and were there when she passed away. I got to hold her hand for one last time.

She was not disabled, crippled or handicapped. She was as live as any human being. She was my mother

Mom died five years ago and I have been wanting to write this story at least that long. Sitting in a wheel chair or laying on a couch with your leg up in the air gives you time to think. And as soon as I figured out a way to get down the basement without falling down the stairs I was determined to write this story. I got that determination from Mom too.

Sarge