AND THEY CALL ME, "RETARDED?"

 
 
 
 
By Joseph L. Tolve Jr.

 
 
 
 
I live in the "now." Where are you? I think we better take a closer look at who and what is classified as "normal" or "retarded."
 
 
All of my life I've been hearing things like, "How do
you remain so happy all of the time?" and "Doesn't
that… bother you?"
 
I often reply, "Why shouldn't I feel really happy all of the time?" Or, "Why should anything trouble me?" To you I think and have to ask, "I really am legitimately cheerful, why allow anything but joy and happiness into my life?"
 
They tell me that I am mentally challenged, in other words that I am retarded. I don't know anything about that, I am only living in the moment of now. You put a plate of food in front of me, and I thoroughly enjoy every morsel.  I've got to eat it with all of my gusto
too! In fact my beloved often asks me, "You ate that so fast, how can you even taste it? Slow down and enjoy it!" People don't understand that I am enjoying it with everything that I am. If my mother were to serve those horrible tree tops or those branches, broccoli and asparagus they respectively call them, I would never eat. Who in their right mind could eat those horrible green things, and mom tells me that they are good for me! Believe me, I know what is good and what isn't, and they sure aren't on my good list. Mom used to ask me to shovel the snow off of our sidewalk and driveway. Not only did I do it happily for her, but really treasure the experience of removing every last bit from our driveway. I even cleaned every snowflake off of our car. Then, I went next door and helped old Mrs. Melenger shovel her place out. She even offered me money for helping her too! Can you believe that? I did enjoy that hot cup of chocolate she always brought me more than anything else she could have given me. When no one was watching, or so I thought, I even laid down in the pile of snow and moved my arms up and down. You should have seen it. You would have thought that an angel had landed right there on the spot! I don't know why, but some mean boys next door saw me a few times and made fun of me. I bet you that they would have loved doing it, if only they weren't too smart to enjoy the moment as I always did! 
 
It's 50 years since I did those fun things every single time it snowed. Although, in truth, I still make snow angels in my heart. I am now living with a nice nurse who gives me jobs like taking out the garbage, helping her with laundry, mopping the floor, doing dishes, helping a triple amputee who lives with us, and even dusting her precious old knickknacks. Barbara once in awhile allows me to clean the snow off of her car. The driveway and sidewalks are too much for me she says, but oh boy do I wish that I could help those guys with the plows!
 
I have hit the big 80 now. Barb called it something strange but never hearing it before, she explained it to me by saying, "Big 80!"
 
Under our Christmas tree that year I found another harmonica from Santa. After Barbra read my name on it, I excitedly unwrapped it and took it out of the box. Right up to supper I played Barb's and my favorite, Jingle Bells . After eating another great one of her dinners, Barbra brought me an unusual pie that she had made especially for me. It had a tiny snowman on one side and a beautiful snow angel, just like the ones I try to make at least once every year, on the other. Then she sprinkled it all with white sugar, and man did it look real! "Gary," she told me, "you don't know this, but every year I watch you making those beautiful angels in the snow. I just had to give you a surprise this year."
 
"Oh Barbra," please don't cut it," I begged as she picked up a knife, "can't you save it for me somehow?"
 
"Gary, I'll take a picture of it for you," offered Frank who sat across the table from me.
 
I couldn't help it but a tear fell from my eye as I looked gratefully at this good-hearted man. He had lost both of his arms and one leg in Vietnam and here he wanted to help me! Hoping to hide my dripping tears from him, I quickly stood and rolled his wheelchair into his room. Getting his special camera off of its shelf, I put it around his neck. After rolling him to the table again he had me put a special part of the camera into his mouth. Then he tilted his head so that the camera would be in the right position, and bit on that "mouse's tail" he had once called it. His action made the camera snap a picture of the pie. It was before I could even take another needed breath. Then he snapped another picture with me holding the striking pie in my hands. Never never had I eaten anything that good. Though Barbra's blind husband Ray reminded me that I said the same thing about everything she made for us to eat.
 
I am not able to join my friends downstairs this Christmas, and man did I cry about being unable to join them! Last year's picture of that exquisite pie Frank took of me is hanging on the wall right across from my bed. Before eating another one of her great meals, Barbra pulled up the drape on my window and helped me bend closer to the slightly frosted glass. Uncontrolable tears burst from my eyes as I saw the most beautiful snow angel covering the big three-car driveway. Unlike the angels I had made, this one had a pretty face and she smiled at me with the biggest smile I had ever seen. My free flowing tears instantly turned into an enormous laugh that filled the whole house and I'm sure everyone's heart as it did mine.   
 
The End