Along with Baseball and music, pets were also important to my early life. We mostly had cute, huggable dogs who offered a lot of unconditional love and companionship. But we also had our share of cats, rabbits, turtles, fish, a myna bird named Sam, and even a duck (which would follow Mom around the backyard as she hung the laundry, as well as quack when someone was at the front door).
Our pets provided smiles and fun /Maybe laughter really is the best medicin?. Our dogs, from the terrier named Tiny to a Pekingese named Louie, and now a rescue named Bud, were bright spots and blessings in my life.
Family were so important to my early years too. I remember one family summer vacation we took was to visit my Uncle Steve in California. Disneyland was on the agenda, a destination for every little kid to be excited about. I couldn't go on all the rides because of my condition, but I did the "It's A Small World" and "Pirates of the Caribbean" attractions.The three-week cross-country trip was right out of the family Griswald's "Family Vacation" movie.
Spaghetti dinners every Sunday, Thanksgiving, Christmas and Easter, when the entire family gathered and celebrated; simple times like watching TV with Dad on the living room floor, as he \introduced me to Jerry Lewis movies and TV shows like The Honeymooners.Those were special times.
We need reasons to keep going, things to look forward to in life, happy times to counter-balance the pain. With life so precious during those early years, I appreciated the good times so much, never knowing if they would be my last. So far I was beating the odds and proving the doctors wrong. But would it last?
I made my First Communion the day before my 8th birthday, November 15, 1964. This was a memorable event, not only because it was my First Communion, but everything that went with it.
There was a special 11:00 p.m. mass that Sunday morning. I was dressed in a white suit, looking like an angel (or more like an early John Travolta). The family threw me a party and it was so memorable, our reletives from Jersey came, the ones we hardly ever saw ( everyone has reletives in Jersey).
It was a celebration, not only for the special day, but because I was still alive. A day to remember for me and for my parents.
To mark the occasion, they asked a local photographer to take my picture after church, white suit and all. Much later, my folks had the photo made into a portrait, with a local artist painting my picture from the photograph.
It still hangs on my bedroom wall, dimples flashing even then. It was kind of strange, having one's own portrait hovering over them, like I was already dead, but I realized the picture was more for my family. It now reminds me how much I was loved, the sacrifices my parents made for me, and how much they were afraid my life would be a short one.
When it was time to enter school I spent the first eight years of my education in a special school for disabled children in nearby Norristown, Pa. Back in the sixties they didn't integrate the physically challenged with so-called "normal" students. I attended a school which was accessible- all ramps, everything on one floor. Most buildings back then were far from accessible, with stairs a major obstacle to overcome. Steps were like mountains to me. This was way before the Americans with Disabilities act was passed, which lawfully made new buildings accessible and older buildings at least trying to be modified.
I rode to school each day by taxi with four other disabled kids in my area. There was Denny, Timmy, Donny and Sy,.All with various challenges, most different ages and limitations. All became close friends, maybe our only friends, A nice older guy with white hair named Joe drove us nearly everyday and kept us laughing. I admired this guy so much , a grandfather -type, who helped me in and out of the cab daily, that when I made my confirmation I picked the middle name Joseph in his honor.
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