A Small Wonder

Living in a rather small town and being someone in a wheelchair, I am often easily recognized. People I hardly know stop me on the street and ask me how my son is. They tell me they’ve seen him standing on the back of my wheelchair as we rode through town. This always gave me a warm feeling of belonging to the community.

As a volunteer at my son’s elementary school, many of the students recognized us whenever we were in the local playground. Being excited by seeing someone they knew, they’d run up to me saying hi, interrupting my conversation with their parent. For one four year old girl seeing me in the playground, or anywhere else for that matter, was an absolute trauma. As soon as she saw me, she’d run to her mother cry hysterically and demand they go home. Unable to calm her child the mother packed up their belongings, her other child and after apologizing to me, left the playground. I was saddened by her reaction. Not only did I feel bad that my presence bothered this little girl, but their leaving never gave me a chance to get to know her mother.

In school, whenever I entered the classroom she was in, she’d panic, run to the back of the room and face the wall so she didn’t have to look at me. Crying, she knew going home was not an option. Her second grade teacher decided to have me speak to the class about my disability. Everyone, except for the terrified girl who stared out the window, listened and asked questions. I was later told even her classmates tried explaining to her there was nothing to be afraid of. The teacher and I hoped it would be something she’d grew out of.

When she was in the third grade there was still no change. Disheartened I couldn’t help but break down and cry over the fact that she was still afraid of me while the others were not. I just didn’t know what more I could do to help her get over her fear. Seeing my tears, the teacher and the principal reminded me of the very reason I volunteered. It was their belief that children at a young age should come in contact with me in order to increase their awareness of people who have disabilities and to decrease their fears. We were all at a loss as to how to help this student but knew she shouldn’t be rushed.

In the fifth grade her fear seemed to worsen. She didn’t dare walk past me and ran back to her classroom when she saw me in the schoolyard waiting for my son. I began to realize nothing was going to change without some kind of intervention. She somehow needed to be stimulated into no longer being afraid so I spoke with her teachers about how to help her. When they asked her why she was afraid she said she didn’t know. Her parents were made aware of the situation but no matter what was said or done, her fears could not be calmed.

It was three weeks before summer vacation that I received a message on Facebook asking if I’d “friend” her. I thought the request came from her mother as an attempt to help her daughter so I accepted the friend request right away. After sending her mother a message thanking her for the request I received an instant message saying her mother didn’t contact me and asked if she could chat with me. We chatted a bit that day and a few times after until she was comfortable enough to ask if she and her mother could come visit me. Of course I immediately said yes.

What happened when they came was something extraordinary to see. I opened my front door and clinging to her mother, they entered but she dared not to go further. Sensing this, I told them to have a seat on the couch while I brought our dog into the yard. Upon my return I found her sitting as close to her mother as possible. I ignored this and started a conversation with her mother hoping she’d join in when she felt comfortable. She chose her words carefully and slowly when she spoke. As time went on I saw her whole body relax. It was magic to see the fear leave her. At one point I got out of my wheelchair and sat next to them in my recliner. Before they left, she moved next to me so her mother could take our picture as proof she was no longer afraid.

As it turns out, she now comes to my house after school when her mother has to work. The three of us have become good friends.

What I learned from all this is: You can be different and make a difference. With patience and love miracles really do happen.

And now we even dress alike.

Best Friends Never Die

Have you ever moved and in the process lost something precious and dear to you like a favorite doll, teddy or toy and you can’t for the life of you figure out how it could be gone or where it went? One minute you were holding on to it for dear life and the next you have no clue what happened to it. I have but it wasn’t a plaything it was my best friend I lost the day she moved away.

We were five year old kids in grade school, with the same disability cerebral palsy, we went to the same school and lived in the same town. After school we’d talk on the phone for so long that my father would say, “You spent the whole day together, what can you possibly have to talk about? Hang up the phone! I need to use it!” He didn’t always have to use it but our phone bill was high. An hour later Eva would call me and we’d talk until bedtime. In school Eva was shier than shy and only talked to me. Her seat was next to mine and although I was the one with the speech impairment, she’d whisper in my ear whenever she wanted something. Our teacher would say, “Eva, look at me and tell me what you want.” I was her voice and always answered for her. Eva always thanked me with a smile.

Weekends were spent at her house. She had two sisters and a brother so there was always something going on there. For summer vacations we went to camp together. We basically did everything together. If I had it my way I’d have her habits too! She had this strange one of not eating the skin of frankfurters. I remember eating there and my mom saying to me, “Don’t even think about it – I’m not going to peel the skin off your frankfurters just because Eva eats them that way. You will also continue to eat the crust on your bread!”

We were starting our teen years when all this changed in 1977. Eva’s parent’s decided to pack up everything and leave Glendale, Queens to start a new life in California. I can still see the enclosed front porch once cluttered with the toys and bikes of the four Munson children, empty. “Where did all your stuff go?” I asked on my last visit. We didn’t have anything to play with that day so we sat on her front steps and watched her parents and my parents, pack everything into the back of their car and moving truck. When everything was loaded up we all exchanged hugs as once by one they got into they’re car. Hugging me, Eva said what all good friends say when they move away, “I’ll write and send you my address.”

I waited and waited and then the promised letter came in 1983. In it was a short note saying she liked living in California and she was doing fine. There was a high school photo enclosed but no return address. I was dying to send her my high school photo. Through my tears I asked my mom, “Now what? How do I write back? She sent me her picture but how do I send her mine?”

“I don’t understand it. You two were such good friends.” Were the only words she had. She was as lost as I was. There was nothing else left for me to do but wait for the day I’d hear from her again.

Four years later we moved from Glendale to Long Island so any mail that might have come after the six month postal forwarding time was lost. Our address and phone number were no longer the same. I realized there was no way Eva could find me anymore and I began to wonder how I could find her.

In 1988 I went back to Queens for a Young Adults weekend retreat at the Bishop Malloy retreat house. It there I met a man who through our sense of humor, I just “clicked” with. Although I had assigned help from a woman also on retreat and a nun, Rex took it upon himself to push me where I wanted to go and sat with me to help me eat. In talking with him, I learned he lived on 68th street in Glendale, just a few doors away from the Munsons. He too had known them as a kid and lost touch with them. “The last I remember they were living somewhere in Van Nuys, California. I’ll send you the address when I get home.” I was so excited about this that it was the first thing I told my parents when they came to pick me up. A week later I had an address, wrote to it and enclosed my college photo.

Nothing came – not from Eva or from Rex but I couldn’t give up and decided I wouldn’t until I knew where she was. I tried looking up an Eva Munson on Switchboard.com in Van Nuys. There was one listed but when I dialed the number I got a recording that said the number had been disconnected. I then tried a few others listed for the state of California but they told me I had the wrong number – they never lived in New York.

It then dawned on me that Eva might have married and wasn’t using the name Munson anymore. I married an ITer in 1999 and told him about my search. He joined me looking on Google and various genealogy sites but through the years, all lead to dead ends. He suggested making a profile on Myspace a social networking site which I did by writing a blog about myself. Of course Eva was mentioned in it. I figured if she or someone she knew saw it they would contact me. Again no luck, just a few hundred “friends” I didn’t know.

In the spring of 2009 a friend introduced me to Facebook. Myspace was too impersonal and although I kept my profile active, I had lost interest in it. On Facebook I found many of my real-life friends. Two of them even lived on my block when growing up in Glendale. It was while looking at one of their profiles that I saw a familiar name and face. It was Rex! He too moved from Glendale and was living in another state. I sent my friend a message asking if he was the same man that lived on 68th street and was at the retreat house. It was and she had also known him when we were kids. The strange thing is although we had these friends in common and spend a lot of time at their houses, we don’t remember each other from there.

Once I had my profile set up I looked for all the Munsons listed. I wrote each of them the following:
Hi, I am searching for a woman whose name is the same as yours. She is in her 40s now. She was my best friend in grade school. Her parent’s names were Fred and Evelyn Munson. She had two sisters, Coleen, Heather and a brother Ricky. They were from Queens New York and moved to California. I hope you don't mind me asking if you could ask people in your family if they'd ever heard of these Munson's. I'd greatly appreciate your help.

While some would not respond, others would explain they did not have a connection to New York. I was at a complete and total loss! I would watch TV shows that found “missing” people and comment to my husband, “I don’t get it – how the heck do they find people and why can’t we find Eva?” His reply was, “If we had the money, I’d hire a private investigator for you.”

On January 5, 2010 I had to sign into Myspace – I needed some info from a blog. While I was in there I checked the messages in my inbox. This is what I saw:
Subject: This is Eva Munson from Glendale NY
Message: Hi. This is Eva’s sister Heather. Just a little update Eva passed away May 12 2009 she has two girls we all often think about you glad to see you’re doing good would love to hear from you.

It was dated July 20, 2009 – my birthday. What a gift! This is what I sent back:
My god Heather!!! I just found your email and noticed it was dated July 20th 2009. My birthday! You have given me such a gift. Although I am saddened beyond words that Eva isn't in this world anymore - I finally know where she is! I cannot tell you how much I have missed her since you all moved to California. So many times I tried to find her! She was really my best friend growing up!! She and your family will always be in my heart. How did you ever find me?? I haven't been on Myspace in ages and just signed on today. I hope we can keep in touch. Please email me and tell me more about your family your folks, Ricky and Colleen. Do you have a photo of Eva I could please have? Thank you soooooo much for writing me! You don't know how much it means to hear from you! All my love, Christine

I immediately sent a message to Rex. Then in the silence of my living room, I cried and asked why. Why did it take so long? Why couldn’t I find her? Why didn’t she find me? Why couldn’t we stay in touch? Why did she have to die at age 44?

Just two weeks before I was showing my parents all the friends I found on Facebook. My mother asked me if I ever heard from the Munsons. “What a shame.” You two were such good friends.” She said as I cried.

They say, “God works in mysterious ways” – they’re not kidding! All those years ago I thought Rex would be the one to help me find Eva and her family but as it turns out I was able to help him find them. This gives me such a feeling of happiness. I also have the peace of knowing where Eva is – in my heart where she always was and will be!