This is the fourth installment of my 86 year old Aunt Eleanor’s memoir. She’s had polio since she was four months old and is currently in the hospital because of a blockage in her colon. Part of it was removed and she’ll now have one of those colostomy bags. Her reaction was, “Now I won’t have to worry about laying in my crap all night waiting for my care worker to get me out of bed and clean me up.” She’s put in bed every day by 5:00 PM and is alone in the house until 8:00 AM the next morning. With cuts to California’s budget, she may not have aide workers. This may well do her in because she does not want to go to a nursing home.
Chapter 5
Employment
I must have been nine or ten years old when a boy in the neighborhood decided to give up his magazine route. He told his manager that “Bobbie” wanted to take it over. Since my nickname was Bobbie and I had not met him, he assumed I was a boy so I got the route. When the magazines came in, I put them in my wagon to deliver. If my friend Billy was around, I could sometimes get him to pull. Occasionally he wanted to show how strong he was and invited me to sit in with the magazines. I had that magazine route for quite a while until the manager was told by someone that I was a girl. This was my first experience with gender discrimination. In the meantime I saved my money and was able to buy a large used tricycle for five dollars. Since that was my original goal, I didn’t get too upset about losing my first job.
As long as I couldn’t ride a bicycle I bought the tricycle and made the best of it having fun on my wheels.
Another ride that I enjoyed was a box scooter Bill made. They were popular in those days. It consisted of a 2 x 4 with half of a skate on each end. A strong wooden box attached to the front third of the top of the 2 x 4. If I remember right, he attached a leather strap that somehow worked as a brake. Sometimes he would let me sit in the box and give me a thrilling ride. It all stopped when he hit a crack in the sidewalk and went over the top and broke both bones in his arm. Fortunately I wasn’t riding with him at the time. I felt bad for him though.
Chapter 6
Swimming
My Doctor decided swimming would be a good exercise. We lived about six blocks from the local pool and at my doctor’s suggestion, the owner taught me to swim free of charge. He was a very kind man and told my mother if a brother or sister would come with me and I could swim a quarter of a mile each time. He let us both swim before school every day. We did this for quite a long time with my sister, Madeline, and Bill taking turns. There were a lot of fun things for me about the swimming pool. For one I could walk all by myself in the shallow end without my crutches or braces which gave me a sense of freedom. As for the actual swimming, of course I propelled myself mainly with my arms, which worked out just fine. One day Bill and I went swimming and by that time I had decided to graduate myself to the high diving board. I had been doing somersaults off the low one or just sitting on the edge of it and falling into the pool. Of course I couldn’t stand without my braces and crutches. My brother must have been in an extra good mood that day, as he let me convince him to get behind me and boost me up the stairs so I could try the high dive. Someone squealed to Mr. Hebee, the owner, and he told me to get down. By this time, after going all the way up there, I told him, “No, I want to dive off.” He finally said, “Okay, but wait until I get up there.” He had me cross my legs Indian style and go off that way. His reasoning was I might break the fully paralyzed leg by letting it flop around. Once I dove in and swam to the side I was reprimanded and had to promise not to ever do that again. All’s well that ends well and I was forgiven. A few times my doctor would come over in the morning and swim with me. He was not only a good doctor, but also a compassionate person.
My girlfriends and I walked from school to the pool quite often in the afternoon. I still swam a quarter of a mile each time and then was allowed to do whatever I wanted except use the high dive. It was a sad day when Mr. Hebee made the decision to shut down the pool. I still have fond memories of him and the wonderful feeling of getting around in the water without braces or crutches. Ironically, years later, I heard that he had drowned in a boat accident.
