I have always had a bit of a violent streak. If someone offends me I don’t mess around. I just give them a slap in the face. Growing up with a brother that has medical problems, I witnessed the effects of getting made fun of. Nothing angers me more than seeing a helpless person get pushed around by bullies who should know better.
So here I am a first-grader. My brother Sage is by now in his last year of middle school and is doing well. According to everyone, I shouldn’t understand “different” kids. I’ve never really been taught about why some kids are “different,” and I should be ignoring them like anyone else, right? Wrong. Sage and I had a special bond. I knew how much it hurt him to be made fun of. I quickly assumed that that’s how all “different” kids felt, no matter what they were like or why they were “different.”
The day began normal enough. It was probably a month or so into the new school year, the fall of 1995, and I was doing well. I walked out to the bus stop every morning. My bus was 802 and took me to Hilton Elementary School every morning. My teacher was Mrs. Franz and her classroom was way in the back of the south wing- room 20. I can still remember the cubbies that we had for storing our coats and backpacks. I had to share my cubby with a boy named Thomas Nottingham. I thought he was gross, and because I was the only girl sharing a cubby with a boy I got made fun of. That ended quickly after I kicked the rude commentator in a place that no man should ever be kicked in. I told you, I don’t mess around. Nobody ever found out about that one, so I didn’t get in trouble.
Morning recess commenced. Because I had a reputation that carried over from preschool that I was mean and beat people up, I didn’t have many friends, and because I could care less about dollies or jumprope, I headed straight for the monkey bars, where I found myself the most at home. Our school was so cheap back then that there were only two duties for the entire playground. They were obviously hired as “afterthoughts” and spent most of their time together away from the action talking about books or their kids or how much they wanted to have a smoke. It just so happened that there were two playgrounds and I was on the north playground, where the duties weren’t.
I was on my way to the bars when I noticed a group of five boys, ranging in age from 2nd to 5th grade, laughing at a little kid and pushing him against the wall, laughing and making fun of how he walked. I had never seen this kid before and I instantly noticed that he was one of these “different” kids. He had one hand firmly gripped on the red handles of his walker, the other one out in self-defense while these kids pushed him around. His legs were completely covered in large, metal braces and he stood awkwardly, trying not to fall over when this ring of boys pushed him. His wide, terrified eyes were magnified by his thick glasses and I noticed that his clothes were old, his hair was uncombed, and his teeth were very crooked. In that moment, my heart went out to him.
I promptly marched over there and told the “lead” boy to stop making fun of this kid or I would beat him up. The group stopped and laughed at me. The little boy looked at me with a “don’t-mess-with-these-boys-they’re-already-after-me-enough” look and this bully, whose name I will never forget (Corey Day), pushed me away and then the circle continued to make fun of this boy.
Well, everyone knows that NOBODY messes with Rosemary Anne Larkin so I took a few steps back and then came running. I remember clearly yelling, “Leave him alone!” and then decked Corey. He was on the ground with his head being beat into the pavement by me. He grabbed my legs in an attempt to get me away from him but all that did was bring me closer to his face, which I continued to punch, slap, and slam into the ground. The four other boys ran away in horror and fear, leaving Corey totally helpless to me, who was a lot stronger than him. I was screaming at him telling him that he doesn’t mess with me and that he would pay for pushing around that little kid. I knew I’d get in trouble, but I didn’t care. Eventually, the duties came over and separated us, sending JUST ME to the principal. As I was being led away, the little boy, whose name I found out later was Brady Summers, looked at me in awe and said “Fanks fow saving my lyfe!”
My mom was called. She came and got me. However, my mom knew that I did not beat up people without a reason (ha!) and after I had calmed down (I was VERY upset about this) she asked me to tell her why I beat up Corey. I told her everything and could tell that she was just as awe inspired as little Brady was. She quickly went to the phone and called the principal, telling him the entire story. I got suspended for three days but the five kids who pushed him around got a much bigger punishment.
I returned to school as normal after those three days. Brady’s face flashed in my mind and took over every second of my life during that time. I could hear his shy, quivering little voice say that sentence over and over again. When I arrived at school, lots of kids made fun of me but more were in awe that a girl beat up a guy. I gave those who taunted me the dirtiest look ever and boy did they hush quickly. They knew I’d deck them in a heartbeat. Finally, it was time for morning recess. I went outside, looking for the little boy who I knew would be there. He was, and was all alone. He was waiting for me.
I walked over to him and he reached out and gave me a hug. What he said next changed my life forever. “Gee Wosemewy, you awe reawwy stwong. Wiwl you be my fwend?” I looked at him and saw trust in his big eyes. I told him that I would be his friend. I learned his name and we talked for a long time. Just in that first 20 minutes, I learned a lot about him. His name was Brady Summers and he lived on the outskirts of town. He was born 2 months early and had many problems when he was a baby. He lived with his grandmother in what I later found out was a rundown old house that they rented out. He didn’t know where his parents were, but they visited him sometimes. He had trouble walking and his speech was affected, but he was trying to learn to walk with leg braces. He couldn’t see very well and had trouble reading. I also learned that we were enough alike to be best friends and different enough to be interesting and always have fun. Brady Michael Summers became my best friend from that day forward.
His grandmother became good friends with our family and eventually, with our family’s help, was able to move just down the street from us. With our knowledge of agencies and centers, because our family was a foster and adoptive family, Brady was able to get the therapy and equipment he so desperately needed. We remained best friends throughout elementary school and on to middle school. I got suspended a few more times in middle school for slapping or punching rude boys that made fun of Brady and my friendship. If anyone dare say a word about my brothers or Brady they would get it.
In high school, we were still inseparable. We did everything together. By now, his hair was styled and neat, his clothing was new and showed off his personality; he had nixed the big coke bottle glasses for trendy frames; had gotten laser surgery on his eyes which greatly improved his vision; his big, cumbersome braces were replaced with trendy, blue, small ones; and the once quiet and shy kid with big teeth was now speaking boldly, and his smile showed off his blue braces. We both joined band, because we loved music. I chose the flute and he chose the clarinet and together we made beautiful music. We made lots of new friends and soon had quite the group.
A few weeks into the year 2006, after I had turned sixteen, we made the decision to start dating. We went on many fun and wonderful group dates and had no trouble finding wheelchair-accessible hangout spots. Our favorite things to do were to hop on the trains and just go somewhere we had never been. We found some of the best diners we had ever been to and found the most beautiful spot along a lake with weeping willows and flowers and a serene little fountain. As we approached our senior year, we were both so happy. Brady had grown into a handsome young man who often forgot that he was in a wheelchair, and who was just one of the guys.
I had a few close calls with suspension, due to slapping a rude boy who called me all sorts of terrible names but usually people left me alone. I remember the day that the entire woodwind section walked out of the community junior orchestra two weeks before the concert because we were fed up with the way things were going. Lots of stuff happened our senior years but we got through it together!
In late May of 2008, Brady and I went to visit our favorite spot, our “place by the willows” as we called it. This time he did not take his wheelchair. He walked with his canes. We were both dressed nicely, for we went to a formal early dinner. We began talking and reflecting on how we met and all that good stuff. We got really emotional and nostalgic and had a great time reflecting back on how far we’d come. He then turned to me and pulled a small, purple box out of his pocket. He opened it and inside was the prettiest ring I had ever seen. He then carefully got down on one knee and told me that he wanted to make memories with me for the rest of time.
We were married just two days after our graduation. It was beautiful. That little boy who I defended so well from those mean bullies was now a man with a wife. We decided to wait for college for a semester and spent that time looking at colleges that we wanted to go to. Finally we decided on Kennywood University. One of our best friends is in the band there and loves it and we want a change of lifestyle so we got enrolled for spring and now live in a tiny but fully accessible apartment located just a street away from campus.
This story is one of the best stories I have ever written, in my opinion.
Rosemary is a feisty and proud woman who has the gift to make ANYONE listen and act for the better. She is slightly violent too when she gets offended but has the sense to know when to slap and when to just let it go. She is very caring and motherly and has learned all she knows about love and sacrifice from her older brother Sage, the many foster children that lived with her, and her younger brothers who were adopted. She knows what is right and will stop at nothing to right any wrongs she finds.
Brady is a confident, strong, and friendly young man who happens to be in a wheelchair. He is an advocate for special needs adoption and foster care because he has walked that walk before. He is always the first to try out any new product designed for people in wheelchairs and never fails to find out how to get around any area. Unlike Rosemary, Brady is more laid-back and tries to keep the peace between anyone. Together they complement each other nicely.
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