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Some Kids I Have Known
Children's Joys


Donna 2 years oldLike yesterday,  I can remember how upset the photographer was because he couldn't get me to hold my hands as he wanted. Seriously, I had absolutely no  understanding as to what the man was trying to tell me.

The slight grin here simply was an expression of amusement to see the grown up person throwing such a fit. To this day I can see his exasperation  almost to the point of pulling his hair out. He waved his arms around and put his fingers together trying to show me how to hold my hands.

As an adult I see the childlike way of clasping the hands and do not find it an undesirable pose. It wasn't a relaxed mature position, but then I wasn't an adult.  After my Mother and I left we both laughed together about how upset he was about the position of my fingers. Mother told first my Gramma about it and then my father. It was all a great adventure for me.

Having been gifted to remember events to have happened in my childhood has given me a respect for the intelligence of children. They are much more able to have thoughts and observations of their own far past what some adults give them credit.

The dress I wore for the photograph was  handmade by my grandmother, Bellzona. I too,  remember this garment well. It was of a soft silky like fabric. She probably used a dress of her own to make it. The fabric wasn't typical to the clothing for children of that day. Neither was the color.  Most of the children in our area wore pastel colors of checks or gingham. The little bright trim Gramma sewed around the skirt and on the bodice was particularly nice, I thought. A dress of this design would fit very well into the wardrobe of a child of this day and time of the year 2003. The dark color is acceptable today.  Didn't matter to me it was different. It was a favorite dress and I wore it until it was much too short. Once I wore it to school when I was five. When the children teased me about the shortness of it, I wasn't bothered a bit.

So how can this small event tie is with the title, “Children's Joys?” This photograph mirrors the whole way my childhood was.  Why my folks were not like everyone else I don't know or understand. They just were different and that was all there was to it.

Mother was Native American. She was beautiful and I do not exaggerate. She was the only Ponca woman in the total area of Osage county. She was elected PTA president and always conducted the meetings. No one  played the violin more beautifully. An invitation for her to perform was often given. Her Mother-In-Law, my Gramma Jones,  played the old time fiddle tunes and she was equally as popular.

I've often thought about each and every member of our family as to their going about their business, doing things that were considered a bit weird. There was my Dad and his inventions. I had an Uncle who was an extrovert to the maximum. Grampa Jones in his younger days had been an honorary Texas Ranger.

The only way I can see the value of this early living experience was that it gave me the pattern and will to be different in a fight through the battles at a national level for Special Education, parking for the handicapped and pushing into places where no “crippled” person had formerly been allowed to go.  All this happened in my struggle to stand up for what I believed as to a handicapped person being allowed to live in their parent's home rather than an institution.

Many battles were fought with doctors regarding my feelings as to what I would or wouldn't do for my Cerebral Palsied daughter. These were fought when I was young, alert, and about one third the size I am now.  The doctors in the medical world in Oklahoma City had to meet me head on much like the bulls there on the prairie butted heads with each other. Once a kind doctor whose own child had Cerebral Palsy advised me to take my girl to Texas where the men knew how to treat women who had the spunk and courage to fight for what they believed.  This is what I did and it was true.  I was treated with great respect even when we were in the heat of a conflict.  All the while this happened my daughter was unconcerned, secure and joyful with simple pleasures. Her swing set, the low to the ground sleek looking tricycle, the sand box, another tricycle with special built up pedals having straps to keep her feet in place, and all the other many toys about her for a child's  happy existence.

My daughter is forty-four now. She has been the greatest support to me. A woman  wise with a wisdom that goes to the spiritual. Her steady thoughtful ways remind me of how my Dad thought things though.  The contribution she has made for the joyful worlds of the children around her will assure her a Greater Spirit has seen her own good deeds too.

To illustrate, recently, after the grandchildren went home, my daughter and I sat down to watch a movie. Immediately it is  going to the lazy writer's common use of the love scene.  I looked at her and said, “I wonder why we can't once enjoy a good plot without this?”

She said, “Well, you see.   It is like this---money talks.”

Yes, she may be different too,  with a sad twisted little body and a brilliant mind. No problem, we can handle it.


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