A Happy Childhood

When the doctor at Yale looked over our old photographs last year, searching for clues to Bobby’s and Jeannette’s disabilities, he smiled.  “A happy childhood,” he said.

And it was true.  In an era when babies like Bobby and Jeannette were routinely institutionalized, my family was rare.  My parents chose to keep my siblings at home.  “Think of your other child,” the doctors appealed to them.  “Think of what it will do to her, growing up with such a burden.”  

My parents thought of me.  They thought of Bobby, and of Jeannette.  And they made a decision that changed our lives.  And for that, I will be eternally grateful. 

Bobby and me, circa 1972