Do you have a friend or family member who suffers from a debilitating desease? Do you suffer physically or have severe depression? Why is it human beings seem to shy away from people with deformities or illnesses? I remember how my father treated my older brother growing up. Jim had polio at the age of seven. The desease left his upper half of his body deformed. My father always pushed Jim hard. At the age of fifteen they had a fist fight to settle a disagreement. Of course it made Jim tough,but I could never figure out why they could not resort to different methods. Maybe my father had underlining issues with my brother. At sixteen Jim was making great money as a caddie at the local golf course. He would leave at five A.M. And come home after dark. In nineteen fifty- nine he would bring home one hundred dollars on a Saturday or a Sunday. That was big money back then when minimum wage was a buck an hour.
I had a little brother Patrick who develop brain tumors over time. At ten years old he began to have seizures. One night he woke up screaming “Tim make it stop! It hurts! Help me!” I ran to his bed and could think only to hold his arms and legs softly until he stopped. Telling him I was there. I ran across the lot to a party my parents where at and Dad came home. Patrick was guietly asleep. Dad blew it off as a bad dream. Two weeks later Patrick convulsed again. Ten years of misery and death followed. While he was still able to go to school kids would pick on him because of the medication he took made him different. I had many fights with people who picked on my brother. Even people who were friends tried to pick on him. Needless to say they did not come around any more after I showed them the way out. Is it the nature of the beast to act this way? Only the true friends are not afraid. What if you had a debilitating stroke, would Friends disappear or would they volunteer to help you?
Luckily my girlfriend’s mother has a large family that came to her aid after her stroke. All pitched in to help. She is in the recovery stage of her illness at home . When you run out of money, the insurance company runs out of help. You keep paying your premium but they kick you out of rehabilitation. How would that make you feel?
Life is more comfortable with good friends and family. Keep them close my friends!
The Blond-haired, Blue-eyed Little Boy
He sat on the porch folding the newspapers,
Helping his brother to deliver later;
His big blue eyes smiling happily,
Working to support his family.
Ten years old and eager to help,
One person who never thought of himself,
A fair-skinned, freckle-faced boy,
Who was Father’s favorite joy.
That afternoon his life would change;
A bicycle accident made it that way.
A couple weeks later, late at night,
He awoke me to a terrible sight.
“Help me!” he cried.
His legs and arms were flailing by his side.
I ran to his bed and held him softly but tight,
Laid beside him for an hour that night.
He calmed down and fell asleep.
I lay next to him and began to weep.
I jumped out of bed and went next door,
Told Dad what happened to his son he adored.
We ran back home to a quiet boy.
Dad said it was a bad dream.
I became annoyed.
He said, “Do not worry, he is all right.”
Two weeks later, he convulsed at night.
It was the beginning of ten years of pain,
Several surgeries and hospital stays.
At the age of twenty, he would die;
Surgery would be his demise.
The blond-headed boy would succumb
From the experiments that were done.
The fifties and sixties began the rise of medicine;
Today’s cures make me reticent.
I lost my baby brother
So others did not have to suffer.
Did it have to be with such a terrible cost?
In today’s world, he would have never been loss.
He was the apple of his father’s eyes,
The blond-haired, blue-eyed little boy
Whom I love for the rest of my life.