Today is a pretty day as long as you’re looking out from inside the house because it’s cold, and that dilutes the pretty. No drips from the roof and no melting of the weekend’s snow despite the bright sun is a sign of how cold it is. I had to walk through fairly deep snow to get my newspaper, but my plowman just arrived and shoveled the walk, freed my car and made the mailbox accessible for the mail truck tomorrow. I may go out later, but then again I’m liking the warm house.

When I was a kid, there was a blind girl in a neighborhood a few blocks from mine. I didn’t know her personally, but I knew her name was Patty. I remember her eyes were set in from her face and looked black to me. I don’t know if she ever went to school. I really didn’t know anything about her. Her parents would tie a rope around her waist which allowed her to go to the sidewalk but not into the street. Patty would walk up and down the sidewalk and clap her hands whenever a car went by, and I remember how loud the claps sounded. It didn’t seem strange or cruel to me that she was tied outside. I just figured it was the safest way for her to be there. On the few occasions, I go back to my hometown, the route sometimes takes me right by Patty’s sidewalk. I always wonder about her.

Another person I remember was developmentally disabled though in those days he was considered retarded. I don’t remember his name, but he was an adult when I was still a kid. I remember he always neatly dressed in grey, heavy chino work pants, a collared shirt and a light jacket. He walked everywhere around town and shook hands with just about every man he met. My dad always stopped to say hello and shook hands and always called him by name. Just about everybody did. I know he went to all the funerals at St. Patrick’s. I don’t know about the other churches. He always sat in the back and nobody ever minded. I don’t know what happened to him. We moved away and I never saw him again.

While I was growing up, I never saw anyone else who was in any way disabled. Maybe they were kept inside the house or in hospitals or boarding schools. Patty and the man I mentioned were part of the fabric of my town. I never thought twice about their disabilities. That was just part of who they were.