Thursday, September 14, 2023
In the 1990s, the Social Studies classes I taught and a BOCES class next door had joined together for a poetry class. An adolescent girl confined to a wheelchair because of her disabilities, was sharing her poem. She described being judged by her physical disabilities and not as a young female with emotions and urges. As I remember, she used a metaphor: Her parents had hoped for green grass, but they got brown, damaged grass.
I was deeply moved by her honesty. I thought of my sister, Sharon, who was born with developmental disabilities. I realized I had placed Sharon in a box which was on a shelf in the back of my mental closet. I was determined to let her out.
Normally, I would see Sharon when she visited my parents for one of the major holidays. I decided to make a special trip to see her in the group home where she lived. As we sat in the living room together, I looked at my sister with new eyes. I wasn’t stuck in the past or thinking about where I was going next. I gave her my “present”. She opened it. I looked in her eyes with compassion. We touched. I kissed her hands. I kissed her on her head. As I was leaving, I gave her a hug. As she stood in the front screen door, I looked into her soul. I was thinking, you are my sister and I am your brother and I love you.
On one call assisted by her caregiver, my sister left a message on my phone. When I think of it, it still makes me smile.
Sharon said “Happy Birthday, Kenny, my brother!”
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