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A MAN OF EXTRAORDINARY CHARACTER, PART ONE

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A MAN OF EXTRAORDINARY CHARACTER PART ONE By Fred Wickert This is a story about a remarkable man. As a child during the Great Depression, he lost his mother. He also suffered with cerebral palsy. Little was known about it at the time and he wound up being put in an institution for the mentally retarded. In modern times he might have been given what is called “special education,” and allowed to live a normal life, but in this man’s situation that did not happen. This is his story and how he coped with it, and in so doing, was able to make his life count. He was also my friend. I remember that night as though it were only yesterday. It was a warm spring night in 1983. My wife, Tae and I had become Family Care Providers, taking care of Developmentally Disabled persons in our home in a family environment, for the state of New York. We lived in Gilboa, in the southern end of Schoharie County in the Catskill Mountains. We learned there was to be a dance in Breakabeen Grange Hall, provided by the members of the Grange for the “Clients” as the Developmentally Disabled were referred to at that time. Now they are referred to as “Consumers,” or “Participants.” Tae and I had four clients living with us at the time and we took them to the Grange Hall to attend the dance. Inside the hall there were benches along the walls to sit on. There was a live band and the clients immediately began to either mingle with their friends or to dance. There was a refreshment table along the opposite wall from where we sat, and soon, a man seated directly across the room from us, stood up, went to the table and acquired two paper cups full of punch. He brought them to Tae and I, then returned to the table where he obtained two napkins, filled them with cookies and then brought them to us. We thanked the gentleman who bowed with a big smile and then returned to his seat. Later, as other Family Care Providers arrived, we learned whom the gentleman was and were surprised to learn that he was a client, living in a nearby Family Care Home. He looked very much like a local farmer. He did not at all look like a client. Most clients are easily identified from their looks, but this man did not fit the mold. That was our first introduction to Howard Reidy. Over the years I was to see much more of him, and we were to become personal friends. Howard was afflicted with Cerebral Palsy and handled it very well. At that time, in 1983, it did not show until he attempted to talk. Only then did it become evident. Howard had been placed in the state system during the depression. In modern day times, I don’t believe he would ever have been institutionalized at all. In those days they had far less knowledge than they do now, and for lack of knowing what better to do with them, they were put into the system. Now they would be given help and would be able to live nearly normal and productive lives. Howard was never bitter about it and accepted his fate with a great deal of grace. Regardless of his circumstances, Howard was a very impressive man. I once attended a seminar in Rotterdam, NY being conducted by the State Office of Developmental Disabilities and Mental Retardation, commonly known as OMRDD. I sat at the same table as Howard and some other representatives from Schoharie County. Howard had recently turned sixty-five years of age. Howard was dressed in a brown pin striped suit and looked every bit like a professional man. At one point in the seminar, Howard rose and indicated he had a question. The Deputy Commissioner conducting the seminar called upon him to hear his question. Howard spoke slowly and carefully. He explained that he had been receiving speech therapy. He had just turned sixty-five and the speech therapy was stopped. He was told that it was stopped because he turned sixty-five and was no longer eligible for the therapy. Howard inquired whether it was the opinion of the state that when a person turned sixty-five, he was magically able to speak without further need of therapy, and if not, why could he not continue to receive therapy? Everyone in that room was greatly impressed. The Deputy Commissioner informed Howard he had no answers to his question, but promised that he would look into it and insure that he got his therapy. A few weeks later, funding for Howard’s therapy was re-instated. I saw and spoke with Howard often over the years. He was an avid baseball fan. He had a subscription to the Oneonta Daily Star newspaper and read the paper from beginning to end every day. Howard could carry on an intelligent conversation and was always up to date on current events. Howard was always a helpful individual and unasked, did everything possible to help everyone he could. He joined the Middleburgh Chapter of the Knights of Columbus and was active with them in taking care of the churchyard and other things the church and rectory needed. They were active also with helping various people in the community who were in need. In the latest years of his life, Howard moved into the home of some neighbors of mine. He rode the same bus with the clients who lived in my home and I often spoke with him when the bus was picking up or dropping off the men at my house. On one of these occasions, he proudly announced to me that he was writing his life story. No easy task, as his palsy had become worse with age and writing was no easy matter for him. Howard also became very unsteady on his feet and required the use of a walker. After all, Howard was now in his eighties. Combine that with Cerebral Palsy, I think the fact that he was able to get around with a walker was quite an accomplishment. Howard was a fiercely independent man and did not want help. He wanted to do things for himself and by himself. At the age of 86, on the morning of December 9, 2006 Howard was navigating through the house. He was offered but refused assistance, preferring his independence, no matter what. Howard lost his balance and fell on the corner of an end table, breaking his femur, the largest bone in the body. An ambulance was called and Howard was transported to Bassett Hospital in Cooperstown, New York. Cooperstown is the home of the baseball Hall of Fame and was the home of famed novelist, James Fenimore Cooper, author of the Leatherstocking Tales. Surgery was performed to repair the broken femur. During that surgery, Howard suffered a heart attack. He survived that heart attack. The surgery was successful and he was recovering nicely from both the surgery and the heart attack. On December 24, 2006 Howard suffered another heart attack in the hospital. Howard Reidy had gone to celebrate Christmas with the Father in Heaven. Following a Knights of Columbus funeral and then a regular funeral at the Catholic Church in Middleburgh, Howard Reidy was laid to rest in the Breakabeen Cemetery beside his long time friend Andrew Phifer. Howard had purchased the lot adjoining Andrew’s grave and made arrangements years before, to be buried beside him. Howard had made his arrangements and paid for his funeral expenses many years in advance of his demise. I mentioned that Howard told me he was writing his life story. He did write that story and I was privileged to have a copy given to me. I am making the story as Howard wrote it, exactly as he wrote it available here for the reader. I know it will open the eyes of most who read it to things concerning the developmentally disabled and their care and treatment that most never dreamed of. I know Howard wrote the story because he wanted it to be told.