Through the Fog

Three years ago, I began writing a book about being a caregiver for my sister. The book still hasn’t been finished and it’s shifted to not only being about Abbie, but also about Danny and my attempts to help care for them and provide for their needs. For so long, I have attempted to care for my family but time after time, I find they care for me. I once dreamed of a day when I can make enough money editing and writing to pay off our house, our car, provide food, and other necessities and be able to live stress-free. Maybe I will, but even if I never do, I know God is always good to me and my family. Below is the original beginning of the book I began about Abbie:

Through the Fog

A heavy fog blanketed the roadway on a misty morning. As my low beam headlights cut through the fog, I began wondering about my sister, Abbie, and more specifically, about the way she thinks.

I wondered if her thoughts were foggy, and that made it more difficult for her to be dependent, as a mentally-challenged individual. I wondered that, if sometimes, when I see her smile because she has had an epiphany that her low beam highlights had not increased with a flick of the switch or a tap of the toe to full brightness.

I often wonder how Abbie’s mind works. Since it is a rare occasion that she ever speaks, there are many questions that I ask her that go unanswered unless the answer to the questions comes through body language – a smile, a frown, a shrug of the shoulders, shaking her hands in frustration, tapping her fingers on the top of her head because she has a headache, or touching her finger to her forehead to indicate she is thinking about the question that I asked.

People often ask how I communicate with my younger sister. I tell them that it’s hard to explain, but that, if you have been around her as often as I have, you learn to pick up on her non-verbal cues and facial expressions.

Maybe others do not see my sister the way that I do, but I see her as a genteel, Southern lady, a “steel magnolia” – “Gentle as the sweet magnolia/Strong as steel, her faith and pride/She’s a everlasting shoulder/The leaning post of life…” (Lyrics from “Eagle When She Flies,” written by Dolly Parton). Abbie has the gentlest heart of anyone I know, yet she is strong-willed and strong-minded. When she is soft, she reminds me of my mother, and the character played by Darryl Hannah in the movie, “Steel Magnolias.” When she is strong-willed and strong-minded, she reminds me of the character played by Shirley MacLaine in “Steel Magnolias” and the character played by Jessica Tandy in “Driving Miss Daisy.” Sometimes, I think she is going to look at my brother, Danny, or me, in a combination of a strong-willed and soft-hearted moment when she has had us do her bidding, and proclaim like Miss Daisy did to her driver, “Hoke, you’re my best friend.”

As the rain falls outside my window, and I hear the pitter-patter of it to the ground, I give thanks that God has given me Abbie for a sister. Some may see my work with her as a challenge, but, for me, it is a great opportunity, and one, for which I will always be grateful. I will wander through the fog with Abbie until the end of my days.

My Special Needs Sister, A Typical Female

Just because my sister, Abbie, has special needs does not mean that she is not all female. This became clear to me when she was a little girl and she cornered a little boy she thought was cute as he walked out the door of the Assembly of God Church in Monticello.

I remember Abbie smiling down at the boy, who was shorter than she and backing him in the corner. He was dressed like a gentleman, in a coat, a bowtie, and a pair of short pants. I was watching, fearing for the little boy, sort of embarrassed because my baby sister was stalking the little boy like a cougar stalks its prey (yes, she was older, so she was a cougar in this situation). As she backed him toward the wall, my mother swooped in and rescued him by grabbing Abbie by the hand. Abbie smiled at the boy and then laughed.

I have further proof that Abbie is a typical female:

Years later, when I was a student at Florida State University, my parents and Abbie and my brother, Danny, went and picked me up to take me home for the weekend. Driving through Tallahassee on Tennessee Street, Abbie was looking out the window, on her side of the car, when a Jeep with four male college students rode up beside us. Abbie started smiling at them flirtatiously and batting her eyes at them. I was in shock! The boys started smiling back and the driver started honking the horn at her.

Further proof:

Years after the Tennessee Street incident, Abbie developed a crush on John Cena, so I took her to Tallahassee to watch John Cena wrestle. She wouldn’t even look at him, but Randy Orton was a different story. I guess Abbie has a fickle side too. She dropped John Cena like a hot potato that night and developed a crush on Randy Orton.

While the stories above are told tongue-in-cheek, they are true. I sometimes wonder what it could have been like if Abbie had been able to live a life like others do; if she had been able to experience the joys and pains of being a child who had been able to go to a mainstream school; if she had the chance to be a typical teenager, with all its joys and pains, going on dates, hanging out with friends, and having sleepovers with the girls; and what Abbie would be like as a wife to the husband she found, and a mother, and if her children would be as beautiful and kind as she is.

I know that Abbie will never enjoy what the world calls a “normal” life, but she does enjoy her life. She is a gift from God to my family, and we love her very much. We need her, as much, or maybe more, than she needs us.

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My Sister and the Creepy Clown

My six-year-old mentally challenged sister, Abbie, who would was scheduled for heart surgery later that year, was scared by a clown.

The ear piercing scream broke the revelry the crowd was enjoying and caused them to fall into shocked silence. The whole city block seemed to be still for just a moment in time. The only sound was heard from my sister, Abbie, who was standing flanked on one side by my father and the other, in front of Jackson’s Drug Store and Harris Grocery in Monticello. She had basically caused the circus parade to come to a grinding halt.

Now, understand that Abbie was not solely at fault in this. She had been compelled to scream by what many children and their parents thought to be the funniest, most lovable person in the parade – a singing clown. The clown had spotted Abbie and realizing that she was mentally challenged, he had decided to brighten up the life of a six-year-old by singling her out of the crowd and singing to her.

Abbie didn’t like it. It was not the song she did not like. It was not the crowd. It was not the animals. It was the clown. Where others had seen a harmless person, Abbie had seen a monster.

In that moment, which still seems surreal to me, she had decided for two people, herself and for me, that clowns were evil. Gone were the days of good clowns like Red Skelton as Clem Kadillehopper or the clown I saw each afternoon on WALB-TV out of Albany, Georgia, named Clem Clown. My little sister, who was facing open heart surgery that year had screamed in horror. Because of that, even today, I am creeped out by clowns. Reading the book “It” by Stephen King only reinforced that fear.

This week, we have heard reports of clowns luring children into woods and into cars. Although I used to work for a man and his wife who had gone to Clown College in Sarasota and had done charity events as a clown, I still don’t trust clowns. Clowns have hidden their faces behind grease paint and the smiles of many look hideous. I know that all clowns are not evil, like the one who sang to Abbie could not have been more apologetic and sought my mother’s forgiveness profusely. I even have friends who share Jesus through clown ministries.

Clowns still creep me out today

But still…the older I get, the creepier the thoughts of clowns become and the memory of that moment in time from my childhood remains etched in my brain forever.

Now is not a good time for clowns to be seen in public, unless it’s at a circus. They don’t need to be seen in restaurants or anywhere near schools or daycares, or near my home. If you’re thinking of going dressed as Pennywise at Halloween, please don’t.

I was scared by the clown that evening because I was scared for Abbie — who along with my parents, and my brother, Danny, and sister, Debbie — were the most important people in the world to me. You never know when someone who has a heart condition like Abbie had could be scared to death.

You can get my books “Higher Call,” “Sudden Death: God’s Overtime,” and “Crimes Seen” available on Kindle and in paperback by going to Amazon.com