HEAVEN'S VERY SPECIAL CHILD

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A meeting was held quite far from earth! It's time again for another birth, said the angels to the Lord above.

This special child will need much love. Her progress may be very slow, Accomplishment she may not show. And she'll require extra care From the folks she meets down there. She may not run or laugh or play; Her thoughts may seem quite far away. In many ways she won't adapt, and she'll be known as handicapped.

So let's be careful where she's sent. We want her life to be content. Please Lord, find the parents who will do a special job for You.

They will not realize right away the leading role they're asked to play, But with this child sent from above, Comes stronger faith and richer love. And soon they'll know the privilege given, In caring for their gift from Heaven.

Their precious charge, so meek and mild, Is Heaven's Very Special Child.

by Edna Massimilla

MY LIFE GROWING UP IN MICHIGAN

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My family lived in a small town near upper Michigan. A welcome sign just as you enter city boundaries says "Gateway to the North."

Our family consisted of my parents, Margaret and Merrill McQuiston, four daughters, Janet, Marilyn (myself), Linda and Sally (whom the story is about) and one son, Larry. We were just like every other family except for having a child with Down Syndrome. During my lifetime things were much different and people were less tolerant of those who are diverse.

My sister, Janet, was only fourteen months older than I, and she was bossy as all get out. She was also the favorite and usually got her own way. My younger siblings either tagged along or I helped care for them when needed. We were a normal family with a small home, simple lifestyle, and many good memories.

We lived a serendipity kind of life and had so many opportunities that come with small town living and recreational activities existing on a lake. My parents didn't have a lot of money to spend on speed boats or recreational equipment, but we had a small row boat that sufficed. Many hours of pleasure were derived from paddling around the lake, fishing or swimming to cool off on a hot summer day. Fish were never wasted. Instead, we brought them home, cleaned them and had fresh fish for dinner. They don't get any better than that.

Summers were hot and humid, but we were able to cool off in the lake just one block away. Although there was no beach on the shore near us, we found places where we could go. We all became good swimmers and enjoyed fun times on hot summer days just cooling off with a nice refreshing swim.

Our summer tans were dark and lasted half the year.

Winters were another story. Snow piled so high we had to stop and peek around the corner to watch for oncoming traffic. Icicles hanging from our roof eaves we could reach, break off, and lick like popsicles for a refreshing drink of water. The weather was very cold, but we walked over a mile to school and back every day. Neighbors did the same and our beagle hound went along to guard us from anyone or anything dangerous. We were much safer than today's youth who have to be anxious about terrorist attacks in malls, cyber attacks, identity theft, invasion of privacy, internet stalkers, exposure to violence, pornography, kidnapping, gunfire, dangers in school and dangers of human trafficking.

Spring rains came down like large bullets, but none of us had rain coats or umbrellas. We endured the water and took it in stride. Sometimes we were drenched by the time school started and everyone just sat in their wet clothes until they dried. The only ones free from it rode busses and lived far out in the country. Their bus rides were long and covered several miles. I was just a young girl. My two sisters always came along and we looked out for each other. Our little brother, Larry, was too young for school and stayed home.

Deer season came in autumn and crossing US 27 in Harrison, Michigan on our way to school and back was a big challenge that lasted all deer season. Hunters from the city were headed up north across the great lake with high prospects of bringing back a deer. No courtesy was shown to children trying to cross the road and sometimes the wait would be long and weary. We frequently had to wait more than twenty minutes for a traffic break so we could wend our way to the school house. The deer hunters were bumper to bumper, lined up all the way to the ferry boats in Mackinaw City that crossed the water to St. Ignace in upper Michigan where deer were plentiful, the woods wild, and chances of getting a buck were excellent.

Today the ferry boats have been replaced by the Mackinac Bridge. The Mackinac Bridge is a suspension bridge spanning the Straits of Mackinac to connect the Upper and Lower peninsulas of the U.S. State of Michigan. Opened in 1957, the 8,614-foot bridge (familiarly known as "Big Mac" and "Mighty Mac") is the world's 16th longest in total suspension. The Mackinac Bridge carries Interstate 75 and the Lakes Michigan and Huron Great Lakes Circle Tours across the straits. The bridge connects the city of St. Ignace on the north end with the village of Mackinaw City on the south.

Deer populations were so large some animals would starve in the cold winters, so it was an act of mercy to control deer population. Many times one would be found almost starved from the covering of deep snow with grass hidden underneath. When found by local farmers they would pick them up and carry them to barns where hay or straw would nurse them back to health. Deer were killed and eaten by the average hunters, taken to local processing plants and cut into portions of steak, roast, ribs, ground meat, etc. They were not just for a trophy to be displayed by the average hunter. I remember two different uncles who nursed young deer back to health by feeding them bottles of milk. It was fun to watch them gulp it down.

Dad owned his own pipe fitting business. He helped build the local school we attended, worked on other local buildings, and did in-home projects for members of the community. The hardest part of business was collecting money once a job was completed, so he applied for a job as a Steam Fitter for Austin Company at Dow Chemical in Midland, Michigan.

Driving from Harrison to Midland was a long drive with hazardous road conditions during winter months. Michigan was fairly flat in comparison with the West Coast, but one place called James Hill was rather steep. Barrels of sand were placed on the road side so drivers could spread it on the road when needed. Harrison, Michigan to Midland, Michigan was 48 miles and took as many minutes on a good day. When it was snowing or icy driving conditions it took longer. He worked for them until retirement several years later and became a foreman overseeing the projects and other workers.

I can remember Mother often looking out the window and saying, "I hope he can get through James Hill." We were always happy to see him safely arrive home, especially in winter. It was necessary to get up early in the morning, drive 47 miles one way to work and the same distance back. Roads were only two lanes with no expressways. He always carried a lunch of warm soup in a thermos, a sandwich of homemade bread, and one of Mom's homemade pies. The soup came from vegetables dad raised in our carefully attended garden during the summer. Pies came from the fruit we all helped gather and canned in our own bottles. It was hard, sweltering, work in hot summers, but we reaped rewards in the winter when fresh fruit wasn't available.

It was always hot in the house from baking bread, canning, preserving, pickling, home cooking, etc. We had a nice family size picnic table that was located under the large oak tree and often had our summer dinner outside. Sweet corn and fresh vegetables picked fresh right out of the garden surpasses any gourmet meal. One of my favorite meals was called "boiled dinner." It consisted of fresh vegetables boiled with a nice chunk of ham. Yummy! My, what a feast!

We had been attending a nearby church called The Highway Tabernacle and enjoyed friendships from the other children who were there. We participated in Christmas, Easter and Bible School programs. After services we would go outside and play games with the other children such as Mother May I?, Hopscotch, Tag, Simon Says, etc. We lived close enough to walk from our home. Mother always remarked how she enjoyed the minister's sermons. He moved to another area, was replaced by a new minister, and our new baby sister was born so we stopped attending church. Partly because Mother missed the minister, but mostly because she felt overwhelmed with the thought of getting five children and herself ready to go when Dad didn't attend. Dad would come see programs we participated in, but would quickly go outside and wait for the rest of us to join him and never wanted to chat with the other church members. However, when he grew older, Dad attended the Methodist church with Mother and Sally every week. He grew much more mellow and caring as years passed on.

The town of Harrison, Michigan was a resort town scattered with summer cottages and a few permanent homes. Summer brought people from the city looking for a nice vacation or those who stayed all summer and went back to the city when winter set in. One of those people was an older lady we called Aunt Gussie. We grew to love her like a grandmother. They lived near Detroit and had a nice cottage style home where they spent summers. She treated us like family. They raised a lovely garden of flowers and vegetables. Along the street where I walked to and from school were beautiful dahlias in assorted colors. Aunt Gussie was often out tending her vegetables and beautiful flowers. Some were as large as a dinner plate and I would always pause to enjoy the splendor.

I loved my fifth grade teacher and would stay after school to see if there was something she needed help with. She would find little tasks like cleaning erasers, chalk boards or tidying up the room. All that changed when our little sister, Sally was born in 1948.

SALLY'S BIRTH

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On the day Sally was born we were stopped on our way home from school by our neighbor. Aunt Gussie told us to wait at her house until someone came to get us. She served us milk and cookies plus the fun conversations we always indulged in. We weren't sure why she stopped us, but didn't question an opportunity to sit down and visit. After awhile someone came to get us.

What excitement we felt when we saw our new baby sister, Sally. No more staying late after school. I could hardly wait to get home to see her.

Babies were born at home and attended by the local physician. My aunt helped deliver some of the babies. There were no nearby hospitals in such a small remote town. We started helping care for Sally at a very young age.

The doctor told Dad that Sally was born with a birth defect called Mongolism more commonly known as Down Syndrome today. I'm not sure when Mother knew Sally was disabled, but Dad didn't say anything for a long time. Doctors advised parents of mentally challenged children to put them in an institution. My parents went against the tide and kept Sally at home

It was obvious something was wrong as her progression was much slower than other children. Someone older than myself would immediately recognize it in her delicate features, but we were young and didn't notice. As she grew older differences became even more obvious.

Just a few yards from our home was another house. We didn't know them well, but in the summers their two daughters who also had Down Syndrome would be brought home for a visit. They could be seen outside in the yard and we would watch with curiosity. We were now treated the same way. I could feel the intent looks as we were seen in public with Sally. My parents were one of the few parents who bucked the system and found their own way to cope. Her birth brought a new world of happiness, sadness, sorrow and searching they had never experienced. A long road was ahead that paved the way for others to find similar answers.

I'll never forget how I felt when Dad went to the local drug store where my peers hung out. She went along and followed him into the store unnoticed. When Dad arrived home she wasn't with him. I received a phone call from a fellow student telling me my sister was in the drug store. Dad jumped into the car and went back to get her. How uncomfortable I was. Even though we loved her, I knew how my peers felt. The gawks and stares were enough to tell me. Thank goodness things are better today and disabled people are acknowledged by the public. It is not uncommon today to see them joining in local activities. They are integrated in schools systems with programs that meet individual needs. Culture and traditions were so much different in former years when they were hid away somewhere and not seen in the community. Things have changed so much for the better. My mother, Margaret, was instrumental in helping escalate awareness and compassion for this special population. Because of her and other parents who wanted a better way, doors have opened for so many others.

I remember only one other developmentally disabled person who lived in our small resort town. His name was George. (name changed for confidentiality) and he was an adult with the mind of a child. Peers would tease him unmercifully, calling out to him, "Hey, George!" and play tricks that would make him hoot or yell. He was always in town when a parade or something else was going on. A local food store cleared their parking lot one evening a week for dances. We would go and watch. George would always be in the crowd and vulnerable to pranks. He was referred to as "retard" and treated as a big joke by a group of young men. That "R" word is now considered unacceptable thanks to more open minds and education of the public. Students on campus at Central Michigan University have a pact to totally remove the "R" word from their vocabulary

It was difficult growing up in communities where the disabled were never seen and we were so different. People would stare and whisper with inquisitiveness. We couldn't help but feel the unfriendly vibrations. I was always very shy anyway, and feeling so different from my peers was hard. I always had a great love for Sally, but at times resented taking care of her. Often I was the one elected while my older sister enjoyed our friends or family members. One example was when I took my classmate on a family picnic. I watched Sally while my older sister and our friend went off on their own.

Another time when our cousins and aunt came over to pick wild huckleberries. When we got out of the car, Mother said to me, "You stay here and take care of Sally." I answered, "I want to go, too." She wouldn't hear it and I ended up in the car with Sally while my cousins, aunt, sisters, mother and brother went off together to pick berries for hours. All but one cousin forgot about me. He came back to the car twice to say "Hi" and give a little bit of company. Time stretched on and on while I sat there being the baby sitter while everyone else had fun being together.