Chicky's Fund

By J Gayle Hays

Born with “spastic paralysis,” or cerebral palsy as it is known today, Chicky’s childhood in the 1930s was an everyday challenge. Living in a small Iowa town in a large family, she just wanted to be like everyone else, but the hard times pushed her to adapt to everything. Then there was a fundraiser announced on the radio when the last thing Chicky wanted was to be in the spotlight. But she was able to turn it all around to help someone else. Step into that time and place and meet her neighbors, the small town, the hobo, her family.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu Publishing Services
• Release date: Mar 27, 2020
• ISBN: 9781684712526

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HAYS

Copyright © 2019 J Gayle Hays.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored, or transmitted by any means—whether auditory, graphic, mechanical, or electronic—without written permission of the author, except in the case of brief excerpts used in critical articles and reviews. Unauthorized reproduction of any part of this work is illegal and is punishable by law.

ISBN: 978-1-6847-1253-3 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-6847-1252-6 (e)

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Lulu Publishing Services rev. date: 10/30/2019

Dedicated

to my Aunt Chicky

Charlene Vivian Holcomb 1927 – 2008

CHAPTER 1

The Friend

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September 11, 1935, East Warren, Iowa.

I see them up ahead, huddled together, whispering and pointing fingers, as Millie, my sister, and I walk down the sidewalk from the library. It’s the usual gang that hangs out under the tree across the street, Ernie Mason, Pug Cooper and Petey Sims.

I hear Ernie saying really loud so I can hear, Hey, fellas, look who’s coming. Why, it’s Cripple Dipple, Cripple Dipple, in his sing-songy voice. I can hear the others snickering behind their hands. I feel the humiliation rising in my face. They’re right, I am a cripple, although I’d sure come to hate the word. No one needs to point out to me that I’m different. I have spastic paralysis, they call it. I was born at home, and old Doc Wendt didn’t get me into the world soon enough, so I was deprived of oxygen, which left me not quite perfect. Mom told me later that, since I couldn’t sit up on my own until I was three nor walk until I was five, that Doc Wendt told her and Dad to put me in an institution, whatever that was, but they wouldn’t let that happen, so they raised me at home with my three brothers and three sisters. I was right smack in the middle.

So what if I’m not exactly like them! I didn’t care. I couldn’t close my hands all the way, I knew that, so my handwriting is really bad since I can only write real big, and I can’t pick up a button very well. And my left foot turns in, which gives me kind of a bobbing walk.

But there’s certainly nothing wrong with my brain. I can do just about everything the other kids do. If they’re climbing a tree, maybe I can’t get up there myself, but my brother Herbie would just shove me up there on his shoulders. If we go swimming down at Peet Creek, they’d just find me a log to float around on. I’d give anything not to be like this, but hey, this was me, and there’s nothing I can do about it.

At least I can see that it isn’t Petey Sims calling me names. I wouldn’t have been able to stand that. But walking past Ernie and Pug, I pretend not to care. Cripple Dipple, Cripple Dipple, they’re laughing. I squeeze my eyes shut to stop the tears from coming, but I can’t stop up my ears. Sticks and stones can break your bones, but names will never harm you, well, it wasn’t true; names can harm you.

Then I hear Millie’s schoolbooks hit the pavement as she drops them at her feet and turns around to face them. My eyes are open wide in amazement. Hey, you guys got something to say, you say it to our face, she says, raising her clenched fist and shaking it in Ernie’s face. You got something to say, say it to me, unless you want a knuckle sandwich right now. You want it, come here and get it, you low-down measly coward. She starts hitting her right clenched fist into her left open palm, taunting them. I blink in disbelief.

Aw, come on, fellas, wimps out Ernie. I don’t want to fight a dumb old girl anyways. As they turn to go back the other way, Millie calls to their backs, And next time, pick on somebody your own size like Herbie, you no-account pea-pickers.

Pea-pickers? Millie picks up her books, and we start to walk towards home. I couldn’t believe it. My love for her quadrupled in that one second as I feel the knots go out of my stomach.

Hearing footsteps behind us, Petey Sims joins us in our slow walk. I’m awful sorry, he said. "I didn’t know they were gonna do that, or I’d have