Poetry Friday: On Belonging

Eunice Kennedy Shriver has been inspiring me my whole life. I have an aunt with intellectual disabilities, and I have seen firsthand the results of her good work. I wanted to find something for Poetry Friday that connected with Eunice and everything she has done for people with intellectual disabilities. In my search, I came upon Ideal-Way, founded by Robert Pio Hajjar.

Rob is a person with intellectual disabilities who had a vision. Rob dreamed of a "world where persons with intellectual disability are valued, included, and appreciated for who they are." Rob's efforts include The National Ideal Way Poetry Competition for intellectually disabled Canadian citizens.

I would like to offer the following National Ideal Way 2008 Poetry Competition second place winner for today's Poetry Friday.

“Where Do I Belong?”

by JOANNA DRASSINOWER, Toronto, ON

Where do I belong?

Is a question we ask ourselves.

From time to time

When we’re kids, teens or adults.

Asking ourselves “Where do I belong?”

Helps us fit in with friends.

Helps us fit in with family.

Helps us fit in at our workplace.

Asking ourselves “Where do I belong?”

Helps us fit in society.

Or even at home with our parents.

Ask yourself “Where do I belong?”

Everybody fits in somewhere.

Everybody belongs somewhere.

We all have a place in the world.

Where do I belong.

This week's Poetry Friday is being hosted by Kyle at The Boy Reader.

Women of Wednesday: Eunice Kennedy Shriver Takes the Gold at the Finish Line

I know I wrote about Eunice Kennedy Shriver in June, but I think in light of the fact that she passed away just last week, a tribute post is in order.

Much has been written and said about Eunice these last few days. One thing repeated again and again is that had she been a man, she could very well have been president. I don't doubt it for an instant. As a private citizen, she brought an entire group of forgotten people out of the shadows and into the mainstream of society, and she did it on a global level. The importance of her work for the intellectually disabled cannot be overstated, and the results of that work cannot be overvalued.

Rather than add more words to what has already been stated, I think it fitting to end this tribute post with a clip from NPR's All Things Considered. Here, Special Olympian David Egan reflects on the impact Eunice Kennedy Shriver had on his life.

Eunice Kennedy Shriver at the 2006 Special Olympics USA National Games.

Mentor Monday: Lights! Camera! Action!

There are times when opportunities present themselves at inopportune times. Recently I was contacted at 9:30 on a Saturday morning by a local TV news reporter and asked if I would comment on Eunice Kennedy Shriver's life and work. Mrs. Shriver was gravely ill at the time and her family was anticipating her passing at any moment. Somehow this reporter knew I had written Mrs. Shriver's biography for Women of the Bay State: 25 Massachusetts Women You Should Know, and he wanted to come by and interview me on camera. Those of you who saw my June 24th Women of Wednesday post know that I am an unabashed fan of Mrs. Shriver and the work she did on behalf of people with intellectual disabilities. I didn't hesitate to say I'd do it. He said he'd like to come by at 11 o'clock.

I was stunned into silence. He couldn't possibly mean 11 o'clock as in an hour and a half from that moment, because at that moment I was neither showered nor dressed. Most of my clothing options were crumpled in a laundry basket. My frock du jour was a pink striped bathrobe. Granted, the stripes were going the right way, but still. This wasn't good, but it was what it was and I was going to pull it together somehow.

I told the reporter 11 o'clock wasn't going to work, and we agreed to meet at noon. I hung up the phone and looked around. Not only was I not camera-ready, neither was my house. Now what was I going to do? As I looked around the house, the old admonition to always wear clean underwear because you never know when you're going to be in an accident sprang to mind. Always keep a clean house because you never know when a news crew is going to film it.

Now, let me assure you I don't live in the town dump. Given a half hour I could have had the place ready for anything, but I didn't have a half hour. If I was going to get myself ready on time, I didn't have a half minute. I could feel the panic rising. I tamped it down, and took control of the situation. Regardless of what they wanted, I would have them film me outside. It was a beautiful day, and I have a lovely yard. One problem was solved, but another arose to take its place.

If they filmed me outside I'd be in big hair trouble. At even the thought of a breeze, I'd end up with Professor Irwin E. Corey hair. I crossed my fingers and hoped I had enough hair spray to turn my wispy little 'do into a wind-proof helmet.

I raced to my closet and found a tailored, v-neck, button front black shirt I'd completely forgotten I had. Perfect! I'd throw it on over good pants and slip on a pair of black flats.

Before I jumped into the shower, I sent a quick email to all of my sisters, Write as well as birth. If anybody had any advice, I said, send it quick.

I showered and dressed and started rifling through my makeup. Because I have chronic dry eye, I rarely wear makeup anymore. It makes my eyes hurt like the dickens. But dry eye be damned. I've watched enough episodes of America's Next Top Model to know I needed artfully applied makeup before I faced the camera. (My secret's out. I'm addicted to America's Next Top Model. While it's true confessions time, I'll cop to the fact that I'm also counting the days until Project Runway returns on August 22nd. Can you believe it? Not that there are only a few days until Project Runway, but that I'm a fan.)

Anyway, I finished applying my makeup, blew my hair dry and power sprayed it. I had 35 minutes to spare when the phone rang. It was my sister Natty wanting to know what I was wearing. I ran it by her, and she gave my outfit a thumbs up. Hurray!

She asked about jewelry. I told her I was wearing a set of silver bangle bracelets, and, as a little nod to the Irish in both Eunice and me, my Claddagh ring. Natty insisted I throw on a simple strand of pearls. She said Eunice was probably a pearl-wearing kind of a girl back in the day, and that she would approve.

The minute I hung up the phone it rang again. It was the reporter. He was there a half hour early and wanted to know if that was okay. I told him of course, and that I'd join him outside at once. I grabbed the pearls, and fastened them around my throat as I walked to the door.

It went great. Actually, it went something like this:

When it was all over, even though my eyes looked like a commercial for Visine, I was so glad that I did it. Eunice Kennedy Shriver passed away a few days later, and it was an honor to play a small part in the public remembrances.

Women of Wednesday: Eunice Kennedy Shriver

Eunice Kennedy Shriver was Grace Curtis's best friend. Grace was born the fourth of eleven children nearly 90 years ago in Beverly, Massachusetts. Within a year or so of her birth the fifth child arrived, followed not long thereafter by the sixth. In a family of that size, babies don't stay babies very long.

Although Grace wasn't talking, she potty-trained at a reasonable age and managed to blend in with her growing sibling group. She loved music, and often sat on her mother's lap while Lydia played the piano and sang songs with the family. Soon, Grace was picking out tunes on the piano and singing nonsense lyrics. Her favorite song was Everybody Works But Father, much to the delight of her father, Carl, who called her Plucky.

As the years ticked by it became abundantly clear that Grace was enormously challenged by the simplest things. Nevertheless, it was still a huge shock when the doctors declared Grace profoundly retarded. With the babies still coming, there was nothing to do but put her in The Walter E. Fernald State School in Waltham.

Formerly known as the Massachusetts School for Idiotic Children, Fernald was a snake pit. Still, it was the best alternative at the time. In fact, Carl and Lydia had a hell of a time getting Grace admitted. After much string pulling by a well-connected Henry Cabot Lodge, Jr. (for which the family is still grateful) that Gothic horror show opened up for Grace. She was placed in Fernald shortly before the birth of my mother in 1927.

Elsewhere in Massachusetts, at just about the same time, another family struggled with a daughter's intellectual disability. The Kennedy family had power, wealth and resources that the Curtis family could only dream of. Although disabled in much the same way as Grace, Rosemary Kennedy would live a protected and secure life. The Kennedys would see to that. Nobody would ever pull all their 12-year old daughter's teeth because she bit an abusive attendant. Rosemary wouldn't carry scars on her back from whippings received at the hands of her guardians, either.

Christ only knows what other abuses and indignities Grace suffered at the hands of her keepers. She certainly couldn't tell. She and thousands of other "idiotic children" were voiceless, powerless, and invisible to society. This is where Eunice Kennedy Shriver comes into Grace's picture.

Eunice may have been Rosemary's baby sister, but she was also her biggest advocate, protector and best friend. Eunice watched out for Rosemary and made sure she was included in the swirl of activities surrounding the Kennedy family. When Rosemary's disability became such that she had to be institutionalized, Eunice could easily have taken her place among the idle rich. Instead, she threw herself into service of others.

She became a social worker and worked with women prisoners in West Virginia and juvenile offenders in Chicago. Eunice was the driving force behind everything her brother, President John F. Kennedy, did for people with intellectual disabilities. Eunice became Grace's voice.

Things started really turning around at Fernald in the early '70s, thanks to people like Eunice Kennedy Shriver. In fact, if you were to drive onto the Fernald campus today, the first building you'd pass is the Eunice Kennedy Shriver Center. Special Olympics, which Eunice founded in 1968, brought unimagined joy to Fernald residents, including Grace.

Grace is still a Fernald resident. Despite the brutal years, Fernald is Grace's home. These days, it's a much happier place, in spite of Governor Deval Patrick's attempts to close it down and place the residents in community homes. What a colossal tragedy that would be for Grace and the other "lifers" who are finally living dignified, fulfilling lives in the only home they've ever known.

Grace is now receiving hospice care, and hopefully will be reuniting with her mother and father very soon. I'd like to think that when she does, her back will be smooth and her mouth full of pearly whites.

Research Ramblings

I stopped by the Harvey-Mitchell Memorial Library this morning. I’m researching Eunice Kennedy Shriver and Maria Shriver for Apprentice Shop’s 25 Women You Should Know series, and needed to interlibrary loan a couple of books. HMML actually had one of the books I wanted, so I picked up The Kennedy Women: The Saga of an American Family by Laurence Leamer (Villard Books 1994). The trick is going to be confining my reading to Eunice and Maria. Love them or loathe them, there’s no denying this is one fascinating family. I happen to like them.

My father actually knew John Kennedy when Kennedy was a young Senator. Daddy was fresh out of law school and living in Washington, D.C. He met Kennedy while working at the Department of the Navy writing speeches for Admiral Rickover. The two rode the senators’ underground train together, zipping around beneath the Capitol, talking about whatever it is two young World War II veterans from Massachusetts might talk about.

I love that I’m writing about Eunice and Maria. All this Kennedy research is pushing memories of my father, who has been dead 29 long years, to the front of my mind. Thank you, Shriver women.