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The children that joined our Melmark family that first summer were all sizes, all shapes, assorted weights and of various vintage. We took them all in and we loved each one—-not all in the same way, by any means, because each one was so different.
There were many that we had to learn to love!
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When eight-year-old Annie came, her slim young father hefted her weight easily in his arms. But when he sat down, Annie filled up his lap and spilled over the edges of the maroon lounge chair; her gaunt arms and thin legs angled awkwardly. He sat there, weary mopping his brow, telling of his wife and her recent heart surgery. Now Annie was becoming too heavy for her to lift or care for. They loved her so, large tears welled up in his soft brown eyes. And there you had it, another heartache, packaged in slightly different wrappings. Color it tragic, all the same.
Annie was admitted to Melmark the next day. With her came three notebooks filled out by her mother with detailed instructions on “ How to care for Annie.” One concerned itself with “The only way Annie will eat.”
“Look at that all over my clean floor!”
“What did you do?”
“I spilled it all over. Oh! Oh! Oh!” Followed by a stream of laughter, this allowed a spoonful of food to be place into her mouth. Then, if you were fortunate enough to distract her, she began chewing. She might even be ready for another bite. We used another routine for bite number two.
“All around the mulberry bush, the monkey chased the weasel……”
Each meal took at least an hour and sometimes more. Yet Annie’s mother was right—she would not take one bite of food in the normal manner without the sideshow. So we kept at it. For Annie was frail and could not afford to lose weight. We were locked in.
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When three-year-old Andy arrive, we learned what the meaning of a “hyperactive stomach” was. It produced something they called rumination, a habit distinctly reminiscent of a contented cow. The one major difference simply that the cow keeps his mouth shut.
Andy was an exceptionally beautiful child, curly hair and sable-brown eyes, but totally deaf, severely retarded with hypertonic muscles and the distinct probability that he would never be able to walk.
It was well on to midnight when his blonde-haired mother pulled up in a taxi in front of Melmark. We had waited and waited. After greetings were exchanged, she casually plopped him in the crib with all his clothes on.
“If you leave him alone, he’ll go right off to sleep.”
She departed in the waiting taxi , saying she would return in the morning. Marilyn was hissing over the balustrade at me as I closed the big front door.
Two steps at a time, I made it into his bedroom. Andy was nonchalantly standing on his head in the corner of his crib. both feet were waving wildly in the air, and he was happily gurgling.
“Hey, Andy, what are you doing?” but he didn’t even turn around. I had forgotten that he was deaf.
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Now, breakfast time was a distinct challenge. How fast could you get it into Andy before the “big return?” How long would it take to feed Annie this time? How much patience would be left for Terry, Todd and Melissa, who by now were howling for more attention? It was a delicate balancing act, and usually the one who yowled the hardest enjoyed the center ring.
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What can I say about the day that twenty-one-year-old Mary Lynn arrived? The letter that preceded her admission was a master piece of sorrow interwoven with personal victory. It was written from the hearts of two tired-out, battle weary parents.
A friend of mine called me this morning to tell me of your article in Good Housekeeping and I have not thought of much else since. We feel we must make some decision about our twenty-one=year-old daughter, and I am wondering if you would consider her for Melmark?
Mary Lynn was born at the University Hospital and was asphyxiated at birth. Through the years we have sought out everything that might help her. In September of 1963 a vigorous patterning program was prescribed, and with the help of over two hundred volunteers, we carried it out for over three years.
However it now seems that we have failed and that Mary Lynn is not going to make the big breakthrough. This is hard for me to accept, that the faith with which we have carried on those past three years now must end by taking Mary Lynn to some state school which can give so little individual care. But now, this new hope of Melmark!
I must admit that I wait impatiently for your answer. It is so wonderful to communicate with a mother who understands the feelings of my heart.
If you would consider taking Mary Lynn in August with no definite commitment on your part, I would hope that she would reach out to you and your staff.
Both my husband and Carly deserve more of my time, they have had to sacrifice much in the way of family living over the years.
And so the admission date was set.
One week later a telephone call cheerily reported that all three had just arrived from Massachusetts and were waiting at the corner gas station in Paoli. They were driving a white station wagon.
I climbed in our little VW and headed for Paoli , wondering what our new twenty-one-year-old retarded girl would look like. And then I saw them! A worried-looking “Abe Lincoln” -type man and a pale “anxious to please”-looking woman , both in their middle years. Mary Lynn sat bobbing up and down on the back seat of the car. I waved merrily at all three, not permitting my eyes to wander to the one person I was dying to investigate more carefully.
Peeking in the rearview mirror now and agin, I could see them following at a discreet distance. I speculated as to the conversation that was taking place. Were they as tense and nervous as I?
We swung around the driveway and came to a powdery halt on the dry grass that insisted on trespassing over the macadam. The air was still and very hot. It was the end of July. I pushed my limp hair away from my eyes as I ran over to their car to greet them.
They mumbled their friendly greetings hurriedly as they tried to extricate Mary Lynn from the car. It was clear they wanted to present themselves all together as a family. I looked the other way and waited.
I could hear the sound of metal chains rattling. The very wildest of thought careened through my agitated mind. When I permitted myself to look again, my eyes were filled with the sight of her. A tap big-boned girl with fear-struck eyes was shaking a length of metal chain in both hands and jerking her head back and forth. Close-cropped auburn hair whipped against her high-cheekboned face as she communicated her message to her parents. She was not going to get out!
“Sometimes things that are metallic make the best toys.” her mother explained cheerfully. “ I found this little chain on discarded purse of mine. Mary Lynn loves it.”
And we both laughed a bit hysterically.
At last they finally convince her to step out of the car by yanking and pushing. I was almost ready to give the whole thing up. Where in the world was Kathy? Where was anybody——everybody?In the center hallway, Mary Lynn squatted down on her haunches, adamantly refusing to budge. Her soft-spoken parents looked absolutely crushed. Every little while Mary Lynn turned toward me with a withering glance from her sky-blue eye. She utter sounds that were something between a whinny from a spooked hours and a run-down siren. Enough to scare me clean out of my sense!
What ever dedication or altruistic motives I thought I possessed were quickly getting smothered.
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At the dinner table that evening I confided my fears. “ I am ready to climb the walls. I can’t tell what she’s thinking or what she’s going to do next.”
Bob quickly spoke up.
“Listen Mom, she’s like a lot of the kids where I work. Wait till you get to know her; you’ll really like her.”
I was mildly comforted but thankful he hadn’t said “love her!”
The next day was Sunday. I was determined to try it on my own. I had prayed about my attitude and decide that God certainly could not accomplish one single thing through me if I asked Him to chafe me and then reused to be personally involved with the one person who was throwing my world off-center. So I volunteered to take care of Mary Lynn. Marilyn, Scubie and Diane viewed my little experiment with good-natured skepticism written all over their faces.
I fed Mary Lynn her dinner and supper that day. Each time I swooped toward her mouth with the spoon full she deliberately looked away from me. I began to talk to her.
“Now, look her, gal, we can’t fool away all this nice dinner. You look at me, and you’ll get something to eat, but not before.”
We got through dinner somehow with her genteel parents discreetly waiting in the center hall. Then we went outside for a walk. Sounds deceptively simple, doesn’t it? But this was unfamiliar territory for Mary Lynn, and she was not about to embark on an arm-swinging jog with me around the driveway. We shuffled, hesitated, and took many mincing steps, interspersed by a few normal strides. Most of the time she looked steadfastly away from me. I worried lest all of my invested time was meaningless. She wouldn’t recognize this “nice kind lady” if she didn’t take even one solid look at me. But she was sizing me up —-I felt that——kind of a put-your-money-where-your-mouth-is look.
I don’t know what made me do it, but the second time around the driveway I grabbed Mary Lynn by the waist and we hopped and skipped to my boisterous “Here we go loop-de-la, here we go lo0p-de-lay. “ Suddenly to my everlasting horror, she stopped—dead—grabbed me around the neck in the crook of her left arm and whinnied loud and long like a horse—-into my left ear.
I stared at her, almost mesmerized by her ginning face right next to mine. Then I reach up and quickly kissed her on her smooth cheek. ‘’I could hardly wait until Bob got home that night.
“You wouldn’t believe it, Bob. She, well she is kind of different and has real interesting little ways of communicating all her own. I—-like her!
Almost before we knew it, time was approaching for Kathy and David to leave for Texas. Dave had enrolled in a Texas seminary and planned to study for the ministry. What would we ever do for a head nurse?
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It was on the eighth day of August that Fran, a young registered nurse, walked into my office and applied for a job. She was very short of stature, with face-fitting dark hair. Black-rimmed glasses magnified her steady, unblinking gaze. I looked at her and she looked at me, unsmilingly I wondered how in the wide, wide world I would ever be able to tell from one small interview what moral fiber this person was made of. Was she what she appeared to be? Could we entrust her with so huge a responsibility as the mothering of our growing family of children? But there was something about the direct way in which she talked to me that convinced me that here was someone I could trust. Later she laughingly confided to me that the Lord didn’t lead her to Melmark; He pushed her!
“When three people hand you an article saying, ‘You just must read this’ and ‘Perhaps here is a place that really needs someone like you,’ what are you to do?”
We hired her and we have never been sorry! It was as though we truly gained another daughter. For two years she lived on the third floor along with us and thirteen other live-in-staff.
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We thought we were prepared for “Big John”. But, somehow, he had looked a little different when we first interviewed him. His kind father had done all our accounting work since the day we had moved in, patiently, tirelessly, giving at least a day or more a week from his tax accountant’s business. When he told us about John, we somewhat reluctantly agreed to help, for John was twenty-one. We scheduled his admission the following week.
He weighed ninety-five pounds, stood six feet two, and was covered with psoriasis which worsened at certain times of the year. And this was one of those times. He also was afflicted with something closely akin to Andy’s problem except that this was called “psychological regurgitation,” which meant simply that there was no medicinal cure. It was an emotional problem that could only be solved by a one-to-one personal involvement with him. To be involved, you had to make personal contact. This was not an easy assignment. His clammy hands were way out of proportion to his body, his fingers so long they looked as though you could braid them together. Big John could not talk; he shied away whenever anyone approached him to feed him or even to take his hand. How do you love someone like this?
Just at this time another Mennonite staff worker, Roger came to join our Volunteer Service Unit. He added great strength and stability to our staff, taking considerable interest in John. He scrubbed his face with Phiso-thex and bathed or showered him at least twice daily. John smelled better at least, and that was a start. But his problem of throwing up six or eight times a day was still the plague of Melmark.
So, a program of personal involvement was decided on and Roger led the pack. I was amazed a what Big John could learn. He went down the slippery slide all by himself, rode on the back of the tandem bike with Roger pedaling furiously, and even stuffed a baseball through the hoop. But he never appeared to derive any pleasure from these pursuits! He was simply being obedient.
And then dark-haired Alfie joined our staff, Alfie with the faraway look in her long-lashed black-brown eyes. She added her own whimsical touch to our program to reach Big John. She held his long bony hand gently in hers and skipped down the driveway, swinging a big wicker basket between them to pick daisies or just leaves. A tragic-comic pair: a thin bean pole of a boy shuffling along kind of hunched over, casting furtive glances her way, and Alfie happily chattering like a magpie in her offhand, scatterbrained way. and the sliest look came over Big John’s face, almost as though he were saying, “I’ve really got this whole place running for me now!” After about two weeks of this one-to-one-business, John stopped vomiting and never once, except when sick with a virus, did he resume this loathsome habit. He also began to gain weight. On, to be sure, he is no Don Juan even yet, and has since unearthed other little mannerisms that are equally annoying and, yes, distressing, but they are not so hard to encounter as his daily deposits here and there and everywhere.
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And that was the summer that Scubie started to fall in love——-with Roger! It was written all over her round happy face. Serious-minded Roger was fascinated by her variable moods, so like a chameleon was she. Scubie was a natural leader and we assigned her to the older girls’ wing where she assumed easy control. Roger was in the boys’ wing, and many a time the “twain did meet.”
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