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Reflections June 2015

Life Now

The Night the Whistle Blew

By Dusty Reed

A few seconds later a whistle began to blow. Tornado! "What do I do? Where do I start?" Being the only adult at home with our seven mentally handicapped children, I was near a state of panic.

Near dusk on a warm June evening, the sky became ashen gray. The children finished supper and began playing in various parts of the house. Then it happened. The lights went out. A few seconds later a whistle began to blow. Tornado!

"What do I do? Where do I start?" Being the only adult at home with our seven mentally handicapped children, I was near a state of panic.

My husband was at work. The relief housemother hadn't returned from her weekend. She alternated a weekend work schedule with us. When it was her weekend off, she usually returned by four o'clock.

Having grown up in tornado country, I knew I must gather the children and get them to the basement quickly. Oh, why had I let my college students leave early? Volunteers came after school and on weekends to provide one-to-one attention for the children. They left earlier in the afternoon.

Carol found Cathy and brought her to the stairs.

I found Annie huddled in a corner in her bedroom.

Doug and Joe were playing in the playroom. I called to them to hurry. They understood the urgency in my voice and came running.

Mike was in his room playing with his toy airplane and I exclaimed for him to hurry to the kitchen. He came immediately.

Tommy was with me as I called to and gathered the other children.

The house was a remodeled duplex, with two stairways leading to separate basements. One led to the children's playroom, filled with educational and fun toys, an old mattress for jumping and a piano that provided hours of enjoyment.

The other led to the area we were going to now, with a dank smell, shelves of canned goods, the washer, dryer and other utilities. It was strange to the children but it was where I must take them. The northeast corner of the house, partially underground, was the safest area at a time like this.

This was the first tornado warning since we moved here and, with the constant activity, I neglected to prepare for such an emergency. We lacked candles, flashlight, and radio.  Carol could talk well enough for me to understand, though the others could understand what I said. They realized something was very wrong and with much coaxing, Carol, Doug, Joe and Cathy felt their way down the stairs. Mike was getting there but with one crippled leg, it was taking some time. I carried Annie and Tommy.

Huddled together in the dark little room, with the wind blowing fiercely, we began a response from each of them. I could know they were all still about me even though I could not see them. Carol was holding Tommy's hand because he couldn't respond.

"Mike, say 'airplane'."

"A'pane."

"Joe, say 'ball'."

"Buh."

"Cathy, what's your name?"

"Caty."

We sang some of their favorite songs. I told stories.

"Tommy climbed on an empty shelf and is lying down."

"Okay."

My thoughts were with each of them, remembering their circumstances for being here now.

Carol was a special helper. She was the most capable of understanding the circumstances. She previously lived at an orphanage where she received the label "retarded." After living at the hostel for only a few months, her testing showed a 20-point increase.

Cathy was a victim of abusive parents. Her speech was clear if it came of her free will. If we asked her to repeat any of what she said, she reverted to baby talk and became very shy.

Annie lived at home until her parents placed her in the hostel. She had several brothers and sisters but demanded more attention than her family had to give. Her parents visited her often and expressed concern about her dressing neatly so she wouldn't look different. They were a loving and caring family and Annie knew it. Was she thinking about them now?

Doug and Joe were Mongoloids at different functioning levels. They were buddies and did everything together. Doug was a teaser. He got into more mischief than Joe, the serious one.

Mike was hydrocephalic, with an enlarged and misshapen head. There was no way to know his functioning capabilities. He lived in the state home before coming to the hostel. He was confined to his crib most of the time, although he was a normal sized eight year old. Within a few months after moving to the hostel he had toilet trained himself, played outdoors on the tricycle and spoke audibly for the first time.

Tommy was 10 years old but only weighed 30 pounds. He could not eat properly or take care of himself in any other way. We handled him as a baby. He liked to tease by getting on the table to run its length, long enough to seat 16 people.

We started the roll call again.

"Mike, say 'airplane'."

"A'pane."

"Annie, where are you?"

No response!

"Annie? Annie?"

As I ran up the stairs I shouted over my shoulder, "Stay put. I'll be right back." Dear Lord, let them stay put. Let me find Annie fast.  I felt my way through the dark house, my heart thumping over a lost child.

Huge tree limbs were crashing to the ground. Lightning made the sky resemble daylight. The roar of the wind expressed a certainty the house was being torn from its foundation.

Terrified, I still had to find Annie. As I neared her bedroom, I called out to her and she whimpered. Lying on her bed, she was kicking and swinging her arms in fear and frustration. I gathered this trembling child into my arms, gave her a quick hug and soothed her with words as we made our way back down the stairs.

Two long hours elapsed before the electricity was restored. I could assume it was safe to take the children upstairs. The storm was over and all we could hear was the soft sound of rain.

The children were beginning to relax as I tucked each of them into bed. They had been rushed to an unknown dark place, a traumatic happening.

They may not have an understanding of the seriousness of what could have happened. They would go on with their lives. They have the opportunity to remain innocent of dramatized fears adults place on children, some lasting a lifetime.

They were sleeping with the sweet taste of peace when the radio announced a tornado had struck. Major damage occurred only two miles from our house. I thank God for His sheltering and protecting arms around us the night the whistle blew.

 

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