 (This blog tells my family's story. To see more, click "blog" at the top of this webpage.)
As 2005 began, Beth and I started the drive back to Massachusetts. John stressed over the snowstorm in our path. I didn’t worry about weather, but I respected it, even more so after I hit an ice patch on the highway through Buffalo and spun full circle across three lanes. I shrieked and steered out of it, suddenly winded. With no cars near us, I stopped for a moment and breathed deeply to counter the tidal wave of feelings that took me back to the earlier accident that injured Beth. Lucky for us, few cars braved the weather. Beth studied for finals and swam with the team for three practices a week at Blodgett, her new favorite pool, with two more practices each week with the assistant coach. Beth called me one morning, exhilarated. Coach Morawski asked her to race at a Harvard home meet for the first time. We ordered the team T-shirt for parents for me, with Beth’s name on the back, and celebrated with Finale desserts in the Square. At her dorm, she showed me a new gift with a big smile: the HWSD team’s warm up jacket and pants. At the early January home meet, I sat in one of the red seats in the section for parents, right above where the team congregated on deck. I proudly wore my shirt, but it wasn’t about me. I was thrilled for Beth. I also met friendly parents, understandably surprised to see me in their section and a girl in a wheelchair warming up on deck with the team. They no doubt would question their daughters after the meet. A full crowd gathered in the upper stands. Beth joined a procession led by the Harvard team captains, chanting in unison all the way. The young women gathered in a circle to wrap up the cheers before warming up on deck. I never thought I would see my daughter with a college swim team. Wearing a coveted Harvard swim cap, Beth wheeled by herself to the far corner of the huge pool and used the chair lift independently to get into the water. She swam under the plastic lane lines easily, no longer a challenge as it was at her first wheelchair games. To begin the 200 free, Beth pushed off the wall with her hands while others dove off the starting blocks. I watched the clock and jotted down the numbers every time she touched the wall. I sat forward in my seat, my excitement growing with each lap. The other girls finished the race and I held my breath as she swam the last lap by herself. I wished John, Maria, and Ben could have been there. Beth’s first race at Blodgett pool set a new short course S3 Paralympic American Record in the 200 free—and in every official distance along the way, the 50 and 100. Three new records in one race! The announcer shared the news with the crowd, and the young women on the Harvard team cheered the loudest. And not for the last time. Next: Blizzard!
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(This blog tells my family's story. To see more, click "blog" at the top of this webpage.) After my morning job at the Quad, I headed to Harvard Square, a canvas bag always on my shoulder with a writing project and a book. Bright holiday music surrounded pedestrians and sometimes competed with a street performer braving the cold. Glitter and garlands hung over the streets, while store windows beckoned with cozy scenes of home and hearth. Christmas in the city. The Coop competed with the Square with lavish decorations and elaborate displays in every department. My second shift usually passed quickly between standing at a cash register and folding endless sweatshirts. I stood in a long line at the Coop time clock before walking home in the dark. The significant number of pedestrians on the sidewalks late at night continued to amaze me. In my sparse little bedroom, I opened my sewing bag and stitched lace on wings of felt peace doves to give to work friends. On my day off, Beth and I sang along with the performers at the annual Christmas Revels at Harvard’s Sanders Theatre, a beautiful rounded space with a dome ceiling made of natural wood. First semester classes finished for Beth, with finals to be held after a two-week reading period in January. She packed several textbooks and novels before we drove home to Ohio for the holiday break. John Mayer and others sang to us from the music mixes Beth made. Notably missing on the drive was her N’Sync Christmas CD. At home we played it on repeat. We watched favorite holiday movies with Maria. John suggested a dinner date. My best gift: Ben home from college and all of us together. I accepted an invitation to the Christmas party at the group home where I had worked. Not surprised that little had changed, I hugged the residents. And left later with relief and no regrets. At my mom and dad’s farmhouse in Vermilion, a tall live tree with handmade ornaments lit up the high ceilings and long windows of the parlor, as it had every December for well over a hundred years. Ben, Maria, and Beth gathered in front of the tree with their four cousins for the traditional holiday photo. I stood in the same spot many years earlier with my brother, sister, and cousins. At my in-laws in Lorain, John pretended to steal presents from his sister Jean to make her smile. She counted down the days until her January birthday. Beth rang in the New Year as she had for the last five years, with her best friends Ellen and Lizzy. They watched the Elf movie and shared college stories. Her friends also made plans to visit Beth at Harvard for the first time, over their spring break. I loved how the girls continued their New Year's Eve tradition of fondue, movies, and easy laughter. Next: First Harvard Swim Meet!  (This blog tells my family's story. To see more, click "blog" at the top of this webpage.) Through the disability services office, I accepted a third part-time job as a scribe for a Harvard senior with cerebral palsy. I typed while he spoke for a practice session, then the real thing for his essay tests and final exams. My typed words appeared on a large wall screen for the student to read. The young man impressed me and I learned about different subjects as I typed. Unfortunately, it was only a few hours each semester. The job paid more per hour than my other two combined and I liked it the best. The frigid months brought unwelcome lessons for Beth and me. In Ohio, I very rarely bothered with a scarf, hat, or mittens, but then I never walked long distances in winter. In Massachusetts, I bundled in layers for my early morning walks to the Quad. When new snow fell overnight, it transformed Cambridge to something clean and bright—at least for a little while. I appreciated the beauty of Cambridge even with dirty piles the plows left behind. The towers and steeples of timeworn buildings shimmered with dustings of snow. After her injury in Ohio, Beth had limited her wheeling in the winter from buildings to or from a nearby car, with little exposure to the weather. However, Harvard required extensive wheeling outdoors where even a light snow made pushing her chair difficult. No vehicles were allowed in Harvard Yard where Beth lived in the freshman dorm farthest away from the closest shuttle stop in Harvard Square. Health insurance usually paid for a motorized wheelchair for quads and I encouraged her to order one to use only in bad weather. Or special wheels with motors to fit her manual chair. She refused. Rakhi and I offered to push her to class or to the shuttle stop. Stubborn, Beth told us she’d ask only if the snow rose too high to wheel through. We learned the hard way how even a small amount of snow and ice could be dangerous for a quad in a manual chair. One bitter day in early December, Beth rode the shuttle from the pool to the bus drop-off in Harvard Square. From there, she wheeled across the Yard to her dorm. The six-minute walk doubled to twelve with light snow on the ground. Despite wearing wheelchair gloves, she ended up with white, numb, and hurting fingers. Whenever Beth had pain in her trunk, arms, or hands—all areas with less than normal sensation—it signaled a serious problem. I pushed her to the student medical center, where a doctor treated mild frostbite in her fingers and suggested better gloves. Not an easy solution for a quad. Beth preferred gloves with open individual digits to get a better grip on the chair’s big wheels. They exposed her fingers to the cold and required a considerable amount of time to put on. Regular snow gloves or mittens soaked up moisture from the wheel rims. Bulky gloves that kept her hands completely warm and dry, interfered with wheeling. I purchased new pairs of each kind anyway. Next: Christmas in the City!  (This blog tells my family's story. To see more, click "blog" at the top of this webpage.) Many community festivals in Harvard Square attracted overflowing crowds that spilled into and closed the streets. The HONK! Parade during Oktoberfest was unlike anything I had seen. Think Dr. Seuss with brass horns, stilts, unicycles, and bikes! The event attracted costumed brass bands from around the country and the world. Not long after, I worked at the Coop during the Head of the Charles Regatta, the world’s largest two-day rowing event. With too many bodies in Harvard Square on a normal day, the regatta tipped the crowd to a crazy level and swamped the stores. At the end of my work shift, exhausted, I gladly left the colossal mess of clothes behind. It required several days to restock and put the displays back in order. On October 27th, Boston’s Red Sox won the World Series for the first time in eighty-six years. Harvard students replaced the pumpkin on the head of the John Harvard statue with a Red Sox stocking cap and scarf. In Harvard Square, students and locals joined together for a party. Beth braved the crowd for a short while, as people danced on the roof of the Harvard T stop. She returned to her dorm to study while the loud celebration continued. John teased and called Beth a lucky charm, since she moved to the area right before the big win. Maria and Ben traveled to Boston for the first time with John to join Beth and me for Thanksgiving weekend and the holiday dinner at Legal Seafood. I bought tickets for The Lion King, on tour from Broadway. A work of genius in every way, from the set to the costumes. And, of course, we also had to see the fourth Harry Potter movie The Goblet of Fire, before we hugged goodbye too soon. Beth’s ventures continued to impact family and friends in unexpected ways. Soon after her Boston trip, Maria shared her big life-changing decision with us. A college sophomore, she planned to graduate with a double major from Heidelberg in Ohio—and when she did, she would move near Beth to teach. I supported her decision, though it made me sad to think of both of my girls in Massachusetts in the future, more than 700 miles away from John and me in our Tiffin hometown. I understood the draw of the Cambridge area. I had never been in another city as vibrant. A place that charmed with old-world history and diverse humanity, all the while assaulting the senses with too many emergency vehicles, taxis, cars, and bikes. A place that also isolated and challenged me every day for the nine months I lived there. Next: A Third Job!  |
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