by Jim Bradford
“Have you ever eaten a steakburger?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Boy, that’s great! You don’t know what you’ve been missing. You’ll like steak much better than a regular old ground beef burger. It’s the most expensive part of a cow.”
Even this little blind kid saw through my sloppy sales pitch. He was not totally convinced that any food with burger in its name would soon join his list of favorites. But his face lit up with a striking smile anyway. He was game to give it a try.
As I held his good left hand, we entered the shiny black-and-white-tile restaurant. We were cordially greeted by a high school-aged fellow wearing a spotless white uniform complete with a matching white paper hat folded like the old military-style service cap I had worn many years prior while serving in the army. Our young host directed us to a booth near the back of the restaurant’s seating area. We slowly maneuvered to our seats in full view of a packed dining room.
HK’s noticeable limp, withered right arm, and hand waving up and down made for quite a spectacle. I remember thinking that we had not attracted this much attention during our other outings. For some reason these particular restaurant customers were glued to us the entire journey. Before meeting HK, I remembered being in their shoes.
Our greeter seated us and handed me two menus. Even before I glanced at the colorful specials, the delicious smell of sizzling steakburgers began to tantalize my taste buds. Probably HK’s too. Looking around, I noticed a well-dressed lady staring at us from a table across the dining room. She was about my age and appeared to be enjoying a casual lunch with three others. After watching us navigate through the dining room, her face exhibited the undeniable look of pity.
Our waitress, Evelyn, appeared carrying two glasses of water. Looking directly at me, she asked, “Hon, are you boys ready to order?” Before I could respond, HK replied with an enthusiastic “Yes!” even though we had not had time to discuss the menu. Each of us ordered fully loaded steakburgers complete with fries and large chocolate shakes. At first I was apprehensive about his sandwich choice, given his earlier hamburger comment, but not for long.
Ten minutes later Evelyn delivered our food. I cut his sandwich into four smaller pieces and sat transfixed, watching him devour the steakburger like a famished young tiger cub chomping his first solid food. He ate one hot fry at a time, but only after the steakburger was gone. I quickly concluded that he was a big fan of the more expensive cut of beef. Slowly he moved his fingers side to side across the now-empty plate.
“Mr. Bradford, did I eat it all?”
“You ate everything but the plate.”
“Mr. Bradford, you’re only joking with me, aren’t you? You know I can’t eat a plate.”
“I’m sure glad because I can’t afford to pay for both a plate and a steakburger.”
As we finished our meal, the female stranger across the dining room shot more probing glances our way. Before we could leave, she stopped at our table, looked directly at me while gently patting HK on the head, and said, “You certainly have a very handsome son.”
“Thank you so much. He is very handsome, and I’m very proud of him.”
HK burst into laughter as she walked away.
“Mr. Bradford, she thinks I’m your son!”
“If it’s okay with you, we’ll just keep that our secret. You know I don’t have a son.”
“That’s okay with me, but you know I can’t keep secrets.”
This offhanded comment should have set off alarm bells inside my head, but I gave it no more thought. Unfortunately, he has reminded me of that admission plenty of times since then!
Later, recalling our unusual encounter, I wondered what thoughts flashed through this total stranger’s mind. Was she being genuine or just making small talk because I had caught her obvious stares? Was she being polite, or was that her way of expressing sympathy? Her thoughts probably centered on pity for HK. Perhaps she felt sorry for me as a dad bearing the lifetime burden that rested on my shoulders. In all honesty, before meeting HK, that’s exactly what I would have thought.
CHAPTER 12
School Challenges
My picture of Pearl and HK’s life away from Mrs. Winner’s became clearer each time she sat down to talk. I learned that at age three, HK was one of the youngest children ever to attend the Tennessee School for the Blind. Students from across the state, ranging from pre-kindergarten through high school, lived in residential cottages on the school’s central campus during the academic year, returning home each weekend. After a few years, Pearl decided that HK would benefit by staying on campus one night a week, even though her house felt lonely without him.
His age and disabilities created major difficulties for the school’s highly qualified staff. Given his multitude of physical challenges, the long road from a toddler to a functioning child was littered with obstacles that not even this experienced group of professionals could imagine.
His earliest school years were spent in classes equivalent to a nursery school. For HK, these formative years entailed learning the most basic motor skills, such as crawling, walking, and communicating. His initial educational challenge was learning to read and write braille. Phyllis Alfreda, one of his first teachers and his greatest advocate, tested his aptitude for learning braille at age six. In addition to confirming his aptitude for braille education, her records noted two conclusions: his intelligence quotient tested within the normal range, and he demonstrated an unusual recall of certain things, like his medical history and detailed chart information.
Because he had multiple disabilities, school staff knew it was extremely important to examine each individual limitation. His disabilities were studied and carefully analyzed, both separately and as each interacted with others. Braille proficiency required both hands, and without the use of his right hand, HK faced a monumental hurdle. Swimming against the tide of current practice, Phyllis never let him give up and never wavered in her determination to teach him how to read and write braille. Soon he was practicing with one hand on the keys of a regular two-handed braille machine, but he struggled mightily. In most cases students with multiple disabilities were not taught to read and write, so from the beginning, school administrators had serious doubts about HK’s academic abilities.
Only one question hung in the air, and it was huge: Could HK possibly master braille with one hand, a skill that only one other student in the school’s 150-year history had accomplished? To do that, he would need a braille machine that operated with just one hand. At that time only one such machine existed. A new one-handed Unimax braille machine cost $700, versus $600 for a regular two-handed machine. It took relentless convincing, but Phyllis and Pearl doggedly and successfully pursued school administrators for funds to purchase the more expensive machine for HK.
Braille lessons kicked into high gear during school hours, but at night he was left without a way to practice his skills. The one-handed braille machine was school property and could not be removed from the classroom. But fate intervened one day while Pearl was getting the oil changed in her truck. It was one of those rare days that she was off work and HK was out of school. Chatting with the service manager at Rivergate Toyota, Pearl shared their dilemma of needing a personal braille machine for HK to use at home. Two weeks later the dealership employees proudly presented Pearl with a check that covered the funds she needed for a new machine. During the previous pay period, they had generously passed the hat to help with the expense. Needless to say, that day Pearl became a loyal Toyota customer for life.
Phyllis Alfreda never wavered in her commitment to provide HK with a learning foundation for life. Working with Phyllis for months both during and after school, and after hours of practice at home with Grammy, HK accomplished the near impossible—he mastered reading and writing words in braille with just one hand. But crossing this hurdle did not lessen HK’s academic struggles or Pearl’s battle with school administrators.
When HK reached his midteens, the ann
ual faculty assessment of his academic progress indicated that he was well below average. Consequently, he was placed in a prevocational curriculum with rudimentary courses that would result in him earning a high school certificate of completion at age twenty-two rather than a normal high school diploma. It was obvious the teaching experts had given up hope that he could conquer a lifetime of intellectual limitations.
But Pearl knew her grandson. In her gut she knew he was a smart student, so she became his biggest advocate and pushed for him to enter a mainstream high school curriculum. Though it was where he needed to be, it was not easy.
Learning wasn’t the issue—the challenge was with the various textbooks, such as history and social studies. And it wasn’t reading the words in braille with one hand that caused the problems; it was tracking each line or sentence of text that proved nearly impossible. Because single-spaced braille is written tightly together, with each letter consisting of six dots, without a second hand to trace each line of text, HK was simply reading groups of words rather than complete sentences. The school’s counseling staff introduced Pearl to a new computerized braille reading device called Braille Lite—a machine that generated one line of braille script at a time. This would solve HK’s issue with reading multiple lines of text.
School administrators knew about the latest device, but once again, funding for the expensive machine was not in the budget. Pearl met with the school hierarchy to make her emotional plea for the resources needed to acquire the device. In spite of the 1990 Americans with Disabilities Act (ADA), which mandated reasonable accommodations for people with disabilities, they dug in their heels and stood behind their initial assessment of HK’s learning capabilities, doubting the benefits of a Braille Lite machine. Undaunted, Pearl charged ahead and threw down a challenge. “All I ask for is a Braille Lite and a teacher to show him how to use it for the first nine weeks of the school term. If he doesn’t make substantial progress by then, he can go back into the prevocational program.”
Pearl won this battle, and with assistance from Bill Schenk, another extraordinarily devoted educator, HK began making significant academic improvement. Bill saw in HK what most teachers failed to see. Bill had the patience, the heart, and a genuine passion for teaching, and he volunteered untold hours before, during, and after school to tutor HK in every high school subject. His efforts boosted HK’s confidence, which resulted in a remarkable turnaround in his overall academic achievement. Beginning with the 2006–2007 school term, HK, at sixteen years of age, had met all academic requirements to begin seventh grade.
CHAPTER 13
Brenda’s Surprise
Pearl’s trust in me grew with every successful trip HK and I took away from her watchful eyes. Before I realized it, twelve months had passed since our first introduction at Mrs. Winner’s. We had been to all parts of Williamson County and visited every Brentwood area hardware store, dry cleaners, barbershop, and retail establishment multiple times. We were on a first-name basis with businesspeople all over town. They all got a special kick out of the inquisitive little blind boy. Our friends at Ace Hardware went out of their way to introduce him to customers, let him feel grass seed, touch assorted tools, and operate various machines. They always patiently explained what these things did and answered his multitude of questions. HK is still their most recognized customer even today, with over a dozen photographs of him prominently displayed at the checkout counter.
While we had explored almost every square inch of Brentwood, there was one special place HK had not yet visited: our house. That all changed one Saturday afternoon in December 2000. When I asked if he would like to visit our home, his immediate response was a resounding “Yes!” When I discussed my plan with Pearl, she said, “I think that will be fine. I get off work at seven, so you can bring him back any time before that.” Her response excited us both, maybe HK a little more than me.
HK and I left the restaurant that Saturday happily strutting to my car, hand in hand like a two-man marching band. As I drove to our subdivision, I explained my strategy for a surprise: “If you keep real quiet when we arrive, we’ll slip into the house and surprise Brenda.” In response, he was as quiet as a church mouse.
Turning into our driveway, I again reminded HK, “Don’t say anything or make noises when we go in the house. That way we can spring our surprise on her.” I re-emphasized my plan because I remembered his earlier disclosure about his inability to keep secrets. I explained how we could quietly ease into the kitchen where Brenda had been baking a four-layer red velvet cake when I left earlier that morning.
Moments later I learned that people with cerebral palsy, especially adventurous kids, can’t always control their emotions or fully comprehend the meaning of silence. As I unlocked the rec room door, HK started laughing. And in spite of my repeated warnings, his cackles grew increasingly louder.
“Who’s in my house?” Brenda shouted from the kitchen. With that, HK laughed so hard he could barely breathe. His face was now beet red, and he could not walk, even with my assistance. Later I learned that extreme excitement stimulated his cerebral palsy, affecting muscles and causing his upper body to bend almost to knee level. He seemed to be standing in a fetal position, all the while giggling nonstop. I was barely able to keep him from toppling over.
We heard footsteps coming down the hallway, which triggered yet another round of laughter. Brenda suddenly appeared in the doorway and asked, “Who do we have here?”
“Brenda, this is my good friend HK Derryberry,” I proudly announced.
“Well, hello, HK,” she said.
He caught his breath at last, strained to stand as erect as possible, then slowly inhaled and spoke in a low, almost unrecognizable, squeaky voice.
“What’s your name?”
“My name is Brenda, and I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“Who told you about me?”
“Mr. Bradford.”
“Brenda, what time did you get up today?”
At that point I intervened and calmly instructed him. “HK, don’t give Brenda your second degree. She wants to know more about you and doesn’t have much time because she’s in the middle of baking a cake.” I glanced at her tender smile, and I had a feeling that their bonding process had begun.
When Brenda asked HK about his favorite foods, he informed her that he liked all kinds of food—anything except broccoli. As luck would have it, that green vegetable was prominently featured as part of that night’s nutritionally balanced dinner menu. Despite his revelation, she cut several stems of steamed broccoli into bite-sized pieces and put them on his plate. A sampling of other steamed vegetables, along with baked chicken and homemade corn bread, comprised his first meal at our house.
After HK discovered the broccoli pieces, it was obvious that either (a) he was extremely hungry, (b) he had never before eaten broccoli prepared this way, or (c) he was being especially respectful to Brenda during this first visit. We were astonished to watch him devour each piece of broccoli on his plate, along with everything else.
“HK, do you want more broccoli?” Brenda asked.
“Yes, Brenda. I didn’t know I was eating broccoli. It’s really good,” he answered through a mouthful of food.
He loved the juicy green florets, like children love chocolate. If the Broccoli Growers Association of America could have seen the way this little fellow devoured their namesake, they would have made him a national spokesperson or their National Broccoli Poster Child, if there were such a thing!
During another dinner experience in our home, Brenda brought out a half gallon of chocolate milk she had purchased especially for HK. I always bought him sweet iced tea at Mrs. Winner’s, but we thought chocolate milk would be a healthier substitute. As she poured the cold milk into his plastic cup, complete with lid and straw, she said, “HK, I’ll bet you like chocolate milk.”
“I don’t drink chocolate milk.”
“HK, I thought all boys liked chocolate milk.”
“Oh,
I like it a lot. I just don’t drink it because Grammy says it costs too much and we can’t afford to buy it.”
Brenda looked at me, slowly shaking her head, and continued filling his cup without saying a thing. She placed the full cup of chocolate milk in front of him, and he immediately moved his left hand back and forth until he found it. Gently grasping the cup, his lips found the straw, and he proceeded to drink every drop of chocolate milk without once removing the straw or taking a breath. It sounded like water gurgling down a sink drain. He topped it off with one deeply inhaled suck on the straw that made even more noise.
From that moment, chocolate milk became HK’s favorite beverage choice. We always made sure we had a full half gallon per visit, and before he left, the plastic jug was almost always empty. Our delight in watching him enjoy such a simple gesture was priceless. And, on the practical side, we knew that his maturing bones would benefit from the additional calcium in his diet.
CHAPTER 14
No Tree, No Lights, No Santa
During and after our first dinner together, HK bombarded Brenda with question after question. What did she do all day? Why didn’t she work like his grandmother? What were her plans for tomorrow? Why hadn’t she visited him at the restaurant? She politely responded to his interrogation, sharing family stories, discussing places we had lived, describing where she grew up, and naming destinations we had visited while on family vacations.
The subject of family vacations sparked an unusual interest from our evening’s guest. He sadly shared that he’d never been on a vacation.
“I hope to go to Florida someday. I want to walk on the beach and play in the ocean, which I hear is lots of fun.”
“HK, I’ll bet you get to go to Florida one day,” Brenda responded, never realizing that in a few years she would be the first one to make his dream come true.
