The dress fell near my ankles. I picked up its skirt and gave a little kick.
He threw his head back and laughed, then the next thing he swept me up and whirled me around.
“Put me down, and do not get ideas. I bought the dress for myself, and for the first time in my life I did not look at the price.”
“You did not buy that dress just for yourself.”
“Okay…maybe not.”
THE END OF AUGUST SLIPPED into September. The heat of summer lingered, but brilliant fall edged on.
Monte took over working the produce stand the two morning hours. Sometimes I helped him for a little bit, after which I would drive to school, where I worked four days a week with the special needs children. One day a week I went to school for my special education certificate.
After never having much liked the profession of teaching, I was amazed at how much I enjoyed working with these special children. They had many gifts, and I saw that I had the gift to help them bring out theirs. I would hear again and again all day, “Miss Ellie…Miss Ellie.”
And there was something else that I found I could give, and that was support and encouragement to the parents. More and more I was sought out on a private level to provide advice for this matter and that regarding the home life of a child. Once I was even telephoned at home by a harried mother at the end of her rope.
This incident had the result of propelling me to locate the local support group, only to discover that it was small and relatively ineffective. I, the normally demure introvert, swung into action—or perhaps I was pushed, because Patsy said, “So, if there is no group, you start one.”
Luckily the new school special needs counselor, a very go-getter type of woman, swung with me. Together we began a support group using the resources from Autism Speaks. At our first meeting, we had a noted pediatrician from Little Rock come to speak. This woman so roused the parents that quite a number got all fired up, and our industrious group began distributing information throughout the county. We even had a dietician come to educate the school cafeteria personnel for special needs diets.
As a direct result of our efforts, our special needs class grew by three more precious children, and a county social worker located two more young toddlers not yet school age who needed early intervention. I saw children and parents blossoming right before my eyes. It was amazing what simple hope and confidence could do.
One afternoon in early December, a mother caught me after class and said, “Miss Ellie…I brought you a kicking and screaming creature, and you have given me a sweet little boy. Even at home. Well…just, thank you.”
I responded to her as best I could in my overwhelmed state.
For some reason, that mother and her son brought Cody strongly to mind. I drove home thinking about him, and then, as if brought by my very thoughts, I found a letter from Laura Jean in my mailbox. It would contain a check, I knew. At least twice a month, she was faithful to her promise to send money to repay me.
During those first weeks after she had left, Laura Jean would telephone and we would have long conversations. She told me all about their lives, and I told her about mine. We had much in common, of course. Then Laura Jean went to work, the calls became fewer, and the notes started arriving twice a month. I did telephone her several times, but she seemed rushed and distant, so I settled for sending her notes by e-mail.
One night out of the blue, she telephoned in something of a panic to say that her husband, Billy, had returned. He wanted to get back together with her. She wanted my advice. Knowing full well the risky business of giving such advice, I did my best to remain an objective sounding board. She never did tell me if she had gone back with him. I did not deem it polite to ask.
Now I opened the envelope, and the usual check fluttered to the kitchen table. I sat to read, and their voices came swarming around me.
Hello, Miss Ellie. How are you? We are fine. I know you have said not to worry about repaying you, but I want to. I have a full clientele now, so my income is pretty good. Roline is getting straight As. Cody has adjusted pretty well to his new class. He has learned sign language really fast, and talks a little. It is hard to keep him on the diet. My mother gives him Oreos and milk. Well, I have to go to work. Love, Laura Jean.
This time there was a PS in a childish hand. “I am doing good in school. I still do not like Gramma Jean’s dog. Love, Roline. Cody says hi.”
I could tell Cody had written the “hi.”
Monte came through the back door. I got up and hugged and kissed him hello. Our relationship had progressed to that. “From Laura Jean.” I passed him the card, then moved to get an apron and make vegetables to go with the roast I had in the slow cooker.
“Did you see the front of this card?” Monte said, displaying it for me.
I had not paid attention to it and saw for the first time that it read: Normal is a setting on the washing machine.
“That’s a truth,” I said, and we both chuckled. For myself, I had my own avoidance of social contact and varying degrees of verbal resistance that enabled me to relate to Cody and other autistic children. When I once mentioned this to Monte, he said, “Oh, yeah.”
He read the inside of the card. “They sound okay.”
“Yes,” I said. And then, “I always kind of hoped they would come back. I even left the drawers and closet of the guest room empty.” I could not look at him as I said this.
“I know,” he said in a tender tone. “They still might.”
“No. I don’t think so anymore. Too much time has passed.”
I saw clearly in that moment that my efforts to learn about autism had been motivated by a bid to enter Laura Jean and the children’s world. A way to draw them back to me. To love them and to be loved in return.
It seemed, though, that life had a different path. Laura Jean and the children were doing fine, and I had been propelled out into the world and into something that suited me perfectly. It had worked out differently than I had imagined, but it was working out.
That evening, after Monte left, I went to my office desk, but instead of sending Laura Jean an e-mail, as I normally did to acknowledge the check’s arrival, I took out stationery. I sat for a long time trying to figure out what to say.
Dear Laura Jean, the check arrived today. I want you to know I appreciate it. Monte and I enjoy hearing about you and the children. We thought we might come your way in the spring. Come this way if you get a chance. The door is always open.
Love, Ellie.
It was saying nothing. I did not know why I wrote it, but I sealed the envelope and applied a stamp.
On my way past the guest room, I paused and gazed in for a long moment. Then I quietly closed the door.
An episode of my life was over. It was time to get on with a new chapter.
THEN, AS IN THE PECULIAR and unexpected way of life, the following Saturday evening, when I was stacking the firewood that Monte was splitting, I looked down the drive to see a car turning off the highway. Familiarity struck me, but the setting sun glared in my eyes. I put my hand up as a shield to the light.
It was the LTD.
“Monte! They’ve come!”
I dropped the firewood and hurried toward the driveway. Bob came running from the rear pasture. The LTD came up the drive with the horse chasing along the fence and Roline waving out the window and crying, “Hello, Bob!”
And there was Cody’s arm waving, too.
The car stopped. The passenger door opened, and Roline popped out and raced toward me.
“Miss Ellie…Miss Ellie! We’re here!”
“I see that.” I hugged the child to me for a moment, savoring the precious thin arms around my neck. And then she was running away to greet Monte and Bob at the fence.
Straightening, I watched the familiar long legs, now in jeans, sticking out of the car. Laura Jean appeared with Cody, helping him down. My, how he had grown! He stood at Laura Jean’s legs, his gaze focused to the side, but my now educated eye noti
ced the difference in him. He was paying attention.
I bent in front of him. I saw his gaze shift to my chin.
“Hi, Cody. I’m glad to see you.” I waited.
His gaze flickered up to mine. He smiled. Then Roline came to eagerly take his hand and lead him to the fence and the horse. I watched them a moment, amazed at my gladness.
Then I looked at Laura Jean. There was something about her that held me back from hugging her. I watched her rake back her bangs and momentarily avoid my eyes in a manner quite like her son’s. I waited, a little uncertain.
“We can’t stay over there with my sister and mom anymore. They…” She rolled her eyes as if explanation was impossible. “It just isn’t workin’ out…and I got your letter yesterday. So we’re here.” I could see her seeking for more words, but I cut her off by putting my arm around her shoulders.
“Honey, I am just so glad you came. Are you all hungry?”
At that she laughed out loud.
THAT EVENING, WE ALL SAT around the oak kitchen table like one big happy family, telling one another everything we could think of. I brought out canned peaches for Cody and nondairy topping; I was very pleased to use a bit of sign language with him, and he was pleased to speak a few words. Roline displayed her longer hair and how her feet almost hit the floor in the chair. Monte did a lot of indulgent smiling, quite like a man who had orchestrated everything.
At one point when I got up to go to the sink, my gaze went to the window. It had grown dark outside, making the window glass a mirror, reflecting everyone around the table in the warm glow of the light from above.
I stared at the image.
“Miss Ellie…” Roline called.
“I’m comin’, sweetheart.”
Turning from the reflection in the night-black glass, I went to take my place with the others in the full light at the table.
EPILOGUE
I wanted them to stay forever, wanted to add on to the house. Laura Jean argued about this and was adamant about getting her own place. Three months after she moved in, we were both made happy, more or less, when the house next door, on the other side of my pasture, came up for sale. It was old but sound. I bought it, Monte updated it, and she pays rent. The children can go back and forth between our houses in a few minutes’ walk.
Laura Jean married police officer Teddy. Remember him? He came around as soon as he heard about Laura Jean’s return, stayed for dinner and never left. While I live here alone again, my house is continually full. Most nights during the week, except for those when Monte takes me out so that we can have time for just the two of us, my supper table is full. There are Roline’s and Cody’s friends, and very often one of my students and a parent in need of boosting, or one of our autism group. They all seem to entertain one another, while I do as I have always done, tend and serve from the background, as suits me.
From the outset, Cody and Roline and I would head out to school each morning together, and we still do. Cody was in my class for the first couple of years, and then he improved so much that he was mainstreamed. Only a practiced eye and ear would pick out any difficulties. He shows amazing artistic ability.
Roline was diagnosed with ADHD, and has the creative mind that goes along with it. She already knows that she wants to be a doctor.
Monte is over here from morning until bedtime. We thought about getting married, but we decided that if it is not broke, don’t fix it. He prefers to go home each night to his own place, and I prefer him to do so. I like to share my bed with books. And sometimes a child. At the age of fifty, I received the miracle of having my life filled with very special children. Five years of teaching, and so many children have come and gone, yet they all remain in my heart…and all because of three people who stopped in need.
Dear Reader,
During the writing of this story, I was blessed to meet so many dedicated and thoroughly creative parents. One of these, a mother of an autistic child, who also fosters an autistic teen, summed up what they live with daily when she said, “When you find out, you have to grieve the loss of the child you thought you had. And you feel so alone a lot. But we’ve got to believe in ourselves and not give up.”
Thanks to people like Dr. Ricki Robinson, organizations such as Autism Speaks, and thousands of determined parents who continue to believe and to seek answers, there is so much hope and many and varied therapies for autism disorder. What works for one person may not work for another, but there is help for all. And there is one single, vital and indispensable thing that helps everyone—loving support.
Caring for a child or adult with autism is a 24/7 proposition. An understanding smile, a listening ear, a normal conversation is something we can all give. Simple acts of kindness that can make all the difference. Look around you, and you will likely find that you know more than one family affected by the broad spectrum that is autism. The disorder is showing itself at an alarming rate, sometimes figured to be as high as one in 166 children. It does seem to run in families.
So put this book down now, go to your computer and visit www.autismspeaks.org to educate yourself and find out how you can help. The ones you help may turn out to be members of your own family.
Do it now. You’ll be glad you did.
Curtiss Ann Matlock
Aviva Presser
Bears Without Borders
Bringing warmth and joy to some of the most troubled and impoverished regions of the world sounds like a Herculean task. It’s also a particularly poignant one, given that so many of the afflicted are children who have known nothing but deprivation. For a disadvantaged and desperately ill child who has never been given a toy in his life, a hug from a teddy bear can be a small miracle.
Making the world a happier place for children living on the front lines of a global health crisis, such as the catastrophic AIDS epidemic in Africa, has become not just a mission, but also a passion with Aviva Presser. Through Bears Without Borders, an organization she started just over two years ago with Erez Lieberman, her husband, that mission has taken root and is spreading.
The project launched at their wedding, in September 2005. “We were so happy we were getting married, we wanted to make others happy, too,” says Aviva. The couple wanted their wedding ceremony to be not just about their commitment to each other, but also a public declaration of their joint commitment to a troubled and needy world.
Aviva has always loved teddy bears, so they decided to make them part of the festivities. Wedding guests were invited to design costumes or bring materials for dressing two hundred bears donated by Build-a-Bear Workshop—a company that provides the materials, everything from stuffing to ribbons to a birth certificate for the finished product, for teddy bear enthusiasts wishing to make their own creation. The dressed bears were sent to victims of Hurricane Katrina and to AIDS victims in South Africa. “The guests also got cards they could include to write a note to the children,” Aviva says.
A doctor at a hospital in KwaZulu-Natal, South Africa, described the joy occasioned by the arrival of a shipment of bears at the children’s ward. “There were cheers from the adults and ward staff. The children were shy at first—confused about actually being given a teddy bear. Smiles were slow to come, but that changed once they had their arms around their teddy bears.”
Developing efficient ways to get the shipments to their destinations was just one of the challenges Aviva faced. Complex customs regulations can make the movement of goods in the developing world a nightmare. But despite her already impressive workload, Aviva, a Harvard graduate student working on unraveling the codes that form the human genome, put her organizational skills to work and gradually amassed a network of volunteers to make, decorate, donate, oversee, distribute and deliver the bears to needy children. Erez, also a graduate student, says he is continually amazed that Aviva comes home at night after a long day’s work and starts searching eBay for bear stuffing on one computer while designing a new logo on another.
Harvard was a key ally in get
ting the Bear Exchange program under way. A collaboration was forged between Bears Without Borders and the Massachusetts General Hospital/Harvard Hospitals Global Health Rotation program, which proved enormously helpful in circumventing many of the distribution problems. With the support of volunteers, exchange residents sent abroad by MGH to its many satellite global health-training programs each carry with them a delegation of bears. In this way, bears arrive in impoverished areas in many parts of the world, bringing comfort to their small, helpless and often desperately ill recipients.
Aviva has learned to rely on the kindness of strangers. “It’s so encouraging to see how many people are willing to help,” she says. “People we know and people we don’t know.” She sometimes receives photographs of the children she helps but has never met. Some of the pictures are heartrending, she says. “They make me cry. But they also make me want to do something. The more I see, the more I feel the need.” She remembers being touched by a picture of a little boy in South Africa. “He was so sick, but he had a little smile as he hugged his teddy bear.” Another little girl with TB and HIV was photographed proudly carrying her teddy bear like a baby on her back. “She may not live to be a mom,” Aviva says, “but for a little while at least, she can be a mom, and hopefully, with proper care, her chances will improve.”
Since its inception, Bears Without Borders has expanded enormously, reaching countries as diverse as Venezuela, Thailand, South Africa, Haiti, Rwanda, India, Israel and, most recently, Cambodia, where five clinics with several hundred needy children are now receiving bears. “When the children are so desperately sick, it’s wonderful to be able to give them a gift that’s consoling,” Aviva says. They also have new programs in Bolivia and Peru.
Donations for Bears Without Borders come from many sources, including the Internet: two sites the couple find especially effective are the Hunger Site and the Child Health Site, as well as their own Web site at www.bearswithoutborders.org. They are also developing a university network with a Web site that would enable fund-raising events to be held on campuses across the country. Donations of money and materials also come from companies such as Build-a-Bear Workshop and from individuals. Erez says people sometimes show up with “a carload of bears.”
More Than Words Volume 4 Page 24
