I'm not sure when this happened...when our baby morphed into a toddler. It's quite terrifying, actually, because he has no fear. No fear!! He definitely did not get that from me [ahem, thanks Brandon].
Anything that involves him moving/running/jumping/climbing/swimming/throwing/giggling/etc. is so!much!fun!
He has driven his first boat and loved to sit up front leaning over the side of the moving boat to feel the water spray up on him. He liked to bounce up and down going over the waves.
Climbing...stairs, toys, furniture, you name it!
He's flirting with girls. Help me, Jesus.
He's helping out with walking Lexi.
He ran and jumped on trampolines at Defy Gravity.
Unfortunately he has discovered his nose...and thinks picking it is really funny. [I thought this wasn't supposed to happen until middle school??]
He loooooves to be naked.
And apparently now he is a little GQ model!
He can almost slam-dunk a basketball.
He's learning how to play golf.
And basketball.
He is starting to love to look at books and read.
And he's entertaining himself these days in creative ways.
If you have been around our pup for any small length of time, you will notice that she is...well...a little different. We say "bless her heart" often, and if she weren't so cute things would be a lot different. She's socially a disaster and is [for lack of a better term] neurotic.
I don't know how she got this way, bless her. She's socialized and is as sweet as can be. But she just can't help it.
She is crate trained and when we leave the house, she goes in her crate. She loves her crate. It's her safe place. And she has proven to us on numerous occasions that she just can't not be in her crate. She turns a little crazy and gets mad and pees on the floor, gets into the trash, etc.etc.etc. So she just goes right into her crate when we're leaving and she's as happy as can be...or so we thought.
Well. Apparently our little Lexi likes to chew on her crate bars, especially when she's nervous. And the universe caught up with her and she got her teeth stuck (to the best of our knowledge) and freaked out (knowing her) and pulled her bottom right canine tooth loose and FRACTURED HER BOTTOM JAW.
Yes. She. Did.
So after 3 sets of x-rays and 3 needs for sedation and pain meds and antibiotics and an acrylic splint on her bottom teeth and a cone of shame and a future doggie root canal and too much money later, here we have it:
Since Linda's funeral last week, I have had many requests to post the tribute that I wrote for and read at her service. There are no words that fully express everything Linda meant to us. But this was the best I could do. _______________________________________________________________________
Linda Paulette Shirley was born March 26, 1949 right here in Spartanburg. She was the first born pride and joy of our parents, Red and Lucy Shirley, who were also born and raised right here.
I can’t tell you about Linda without first telling you about our parents. They were 19 and 20years old when Linda was born. They were simple, trusting, and relied solely on themselves, their loving parents, and God. I remember Mama telling me that they thought Linda was the most perfect baby ever born. They loved her with a love that only moms and dads can understand. In 1949, little was known about Trisomy 21 or Downs Syndrome. Mom and Dad didn’t see anything wrong or different about Linda except for the fact that Linda didn’t eat well, couldn’t gain weight, and was very late on most milestones like holding her head up, sitting up, crawling and walking. During this time, it truly took the entire village to raise Linda. Our grandmother, Mama Lowry, brewed concoctions of Pet milk, Karo syrup, and who knows what else. Our daddy’s sister-in-law Evelyn,and my mom’s best friend, Agnes (both of who are here today) helped nurture Linda, too.
It wasn’t until Linda was nearly two years old that a doctor told Mom and Dad that Linda was “mongoloid”. He said that these children don’t live long and they never have any quality of life or fit into society. The advice was to put her away in a group home for retarded children. Well, Red Shirley was appalled by this. He told that doctor straight up that this was his little girl and that she was staying home with them!
Around this time, our parents had some friends whose child died. They watched this young family struggle and suffer both emotionally and financially through a funeral for their sweet child. This struck home with Mom and Dad and, now realizing that Linda was truly not healthy, neither mentally and physically, they purchased burial plots right out here in Greenlawn where Mom and Dad have been laid to rest. Back then you had to buy plots in twos, so they bought four, knowing that Linda would always be with them. Linda’s body will be placed at Daddy’s feet today.
I think our parents were so brave. It was probably more naive than brave, but I choose to believe it was brave. You see,statistically, Downs Syndrome children are born to mothers of advanced age. Remember my mom was only 20 years old when Linda was born. Even after struggling through raising Linda, they decided to continue to grow our family. The next pregnancy resulted in miscarriage. Then in 1952, Steve was born, a red head that came into this world butt first and was covered in red fuzz! Another pregnancy after Steve resulted in a second miscarriage. Then in 1955, Andy was born, another red head. You know how proud Red Shirley was to have THREE red heads?! They must have wanted a big family, but another pregnancy ended in miscarriage. By this time, Mom and Dad were in their 30’s. Daddy’s newspaper career was taking off, and the family left Spartanburg to publish a newspaper in Alabama.
Then, in 1962… oops. I came into the world with… brown hair. But they decided to take me home anyway. Linda was 13 years old when Mamma brought me home. What in the world must she have thought?
I only remember Linda as basically an adult. By the time I was old enough to “play”, Linda had finished school and was working for her Pa, our dad, at the newspaper office.
Yes, Linda went to school. I have her report cards to prove it! She went to a “special” school, a school with other kids like her. Today, thankfully,children with mental disabilities are mainstreamed into public school. There have even been several Downs Syndrome Homecoming Queens across the nation. But when Linda was in school, the stigma remained…mongoloid…retarded. I’d like to read a letter that was written to my parents in October 1960 by the assistant professor of special education at Auburn University where Linda had been evaluated. She would have been 11 years old at the time.
“Dear Mr. and Mrs. Shirley: It was a pleasure to have you on the Auburn campus. We enjoyed meeting you and your children. Perhaps the recent medical report upset you. This is understandable. But as you both so wisely said, this does not change Linda. She is still the same child to you. Our findings do substantiate what you had indicated. Linda does test in the educable mentally retarded category. On the basis of the individual psychological examination, she is eligible, according to Alabama state law, for placement in a special education class in the public schools. Linda is not going to excel, particularly is this true in academics. She will be capable of limited academic achievement. With the strong home and cultural background that you have been able to provide, the road ahead will be smoother. However, she will need careful and almost constant supervision. At a time in the future, you might want to discuss this further. If possible, you should try and let her develop a degree of independence. In view of her limited ability, this will be difficult to do plus the fact that you have tended to shield her. As a general rule, Linda will be more interested and perhaps capable of doing concrete activities and tasks rather than those of an abstract nature.” Signed by the assistant professor of special education, State of Alabama.
Despite this grim outlook, Linda obviously continued to learn. I found a progress report from third grade dated May 27, 1963. That makes Linda 14 years old, but in thethird grade. Martha Wood, Linda’s teacher wrote “I believe Linda’s greatest progress has been in her ability to understand and follow written and oral directions. Her comprehension has taken a great jump upward, I think. Linda has a place in my heart that no one else will ever fill.”
Linda played. She loved all of her imaginary friends. I remember playing Roy Rogers and Dale Evans with her, riding imaginary Trigger with imaginary Bullet running at our sides. She could swim, she was the champion behind the boat on her surfboard,she has a championship trophy to PROVE that she is the very best at musical chairs. She could ride a bike…on two wheels.
We went to the beach ever summer. She loved the amusement park. Her favorite ride was the Tilt-a-Whirl. She was pretty good at that game you roll the ball up the alley into the different point circles. She always had the most tickets for a prize.
Linda was a HUGE New Orleans Saints fan. Even when the team was so bad, the fans wore paper bags over their heads to games and called the team the “Ain’ts”, Linda still cheered them on every Sunday, laying in front of the TV with all of her good luck charms.
Linda learned to read. She loved to read. She could write. She LOVED to write! Santa Claus got a personal hand-written letter from Linda EVERY year up until about 10 years ago. If you ever wanted or needed to know the score to ANY football game over the weekend, Linda had EVERY one written down. Linda could add, but she never quite got the hang of subtraction. She learned a little bit about money; correct change for a Coke machine or a sausage biscuit from Burger King for her and one person of honor every Friday. She was smart, though, when it came to money. Anytime anyone would playfully ask her for a loan, she never had enough to share. Except with God. She was faithful with her 10% tithe EVERY Sunday, without fail.
Linda taught Sunday School. Not in a literal teaching capacity, but she worked in the five-year-old Sunday School class at First Baptist Church in Morgan City for 30 years. She took role. She collected the children’s offerings and delivered the records to the church office. I often wonder about all of the sweet little five-year-olds that Linda came into contact with. I can’t help but believe that she taught them something just by being who she was. Linda knew every word to just about every hymn in that Baptist hymnal. She could recite Psalm 23 and the Christmas story, Luke 2 every Christmas. Our daddy made sure all four of us could do that.
Linda could tell time. She always wore a watch. She got herself out of bed every morning, picked out and halfway matched her own clothes. She dressed herself every day and took care of her own personal hygiene. She could fix herself simple meals in a toaster or microwave when those came out. She was master dish washer every weekend.
She made potholders. I’ll bet many of you here have some of her intricate, well thought-out patterned potholders. They last forever. She has painted thousands of paint-by-number paintings. A few are displayed here today. Steve, Andy, and I proudly have many displayed in our homes. And I have enough potholders to hand down to my children, my grandchildren and my great great grandchildren!
Linda was Maid of Honor at mine and Kevin’s wedding. She looked so pretty and did such a good job in her role. She even signed our marriage certificate. Yes, we are legally married, we checked with an attorney and he said it was legal!
Linda worked. She worked hard for Red Shirley at the newspaper. She inserted newspapers, stuffing one section into another, counting them out into stacks of 25. She kept the soda machine full of drinks. She collected empty soda cans off of everyone’s desks for recycling. She swept the pressroom floor. I remember seeing sweat dripping from her face sometimes. She had a desk at the newspaper office where she had stacks of magazines and catalogs. She very carefully and precisely cut out the pictures from these catalogs and filed them neatly into a box.
But probably Linda’s most important job at the newspaper office was turning everyone’s day-date calendars. Everyone knew when Linda was on vacation,because the calendars were still stuck on her last day before she left for vacation. That’s not good in the newspaper business. I wonder if there were ever any missed meetings or assignments?!
Steve and Jean took Linda to Disneyworld twice. The first time was for her 50thbirthday. She rode Splash Mountain. She went from zero to sixty on the Rockin Roller Coaster then upside down. She rode almost everything….except the Twilight Zone Tower of Terror. Jean wouldn’t let her. And Linda was not happy about that.
I am sure that Linda was able to exceed EVERYONE’s expectations because of the love and community that surrounded her as she grew up and grew older. She has defied the odds, living for 64 years. Mamma and Daddy did the best they could. I think they did a pretty good job.
When daddy died, something in Linda died. This is when we began to see a decline in Linda. Mama was heart-broken, too, over Daddy’s death. She did the best she could. But with Mom in her late 70’s and Linda in her late 50’s, the village had to step back in.
Steve and Jean have cared for Linda in their home since Mama died in 2008. None of us can ever know what this truly involves. Andy and I have helped, but always knowing that it was only a part time job for us. It has been a full time job for Steve and Jean. They have sacrificed much to carryout Daddy’s will for his little girl. I will be forever grateful for the loving, selfless care you gave.
You see, life had come full circle, so to speak. Just as when she was a baby, for the last 5-6years, Linda could no longer dress herself, bathe herself, feed herself, or even speak to us in understandable words. No more pain-by-numbers, no more pot holders. She couldn’t walk, work or play. Daddy wouldn’t hear of putting her “away” as a child. And rather than put her away in a nursing home, Linda remained at home.
Even as she declined, Steve and Jean got her out of bed every morning, put her in the shower and give her a REAL soap and washcloth shower. Her hair was washed regularly and dried. Jean continued to cut her hair stylishly. And she NEVER got ANY gray hairs! No fair! After shower, we put real clothes on her, not some moo moo or a hospital gown. She got a bra, shirt, pants, socks, and shoes. After her shower, she came to the breakfast table in her wheelchair for breakfast. She was fed breakfast as everyone else had breakfast. She sat in the living room in her recliner with the rest of the family. She came back to the table at lunchtime and again at dinnertime. She sat on the porch with family. She remained a part of the family. All of these things…extended Linda’s quality and quantity of life.
Linda’s life has truly enriched our lives. When the usual stuff that happens in families did happen, Linda was always our Rock. She brings us back to center. She reminds us of the honesty, the innocence, and child-like faith that we can all have if we just choose it.
Linda loved everyone. She especially loved her Ma and her Pa. She loved her Mama Lowry. She had an unusual understanding of Jesus and Heaven. They are all together now. She has met our three brothers and/or sisters in heaven that never had a chance to live on earth. Linda is finally WHOLE. She can do all of the things that specialists and society said she would never do…AND SO, SO MUCH MORE! Like Linda’s third grade teacher said, "Linda will have a place in my heart that no one else will ever fill”.
I've stared at a blank page for a while now, even leaving it over night, to try to figure out the words that will pay the utmost respect and give the most accurate portrayal of the wonderfully lived life of Linda Shirley.
I'm still not even sure where to start, so I'll just start from the beginning. My mom shared the most beautiful tribute to Linda at her funeral which tells of Linda's life and accomplishments perfectly. With her permission, I will share that with all of you on here in another post. But for now, I'll tell you of my Linda.
Linda was my mom's big sister. When I was born, Linda was 37 years old. I'd like to believe I was extra special, especially to Linda, because I was Linda's first niece. I grew up in Morgan City, Louisiana, which is a tiny town down in the swamps. We lived in the same neighborhood as my grandparents and Linda, only living a few blocks away from them. Linda lived with my grandparents where they strived every day to provide her a "normal" life. Linda had Down's Syndrome, and let me tell you, she rocked that extra chromosome and her beautiful red hair with every ounce in her. Before I started kindergarden, I stayed with my grandmother while my mom worked half days at the Daily Review, the local newspaper that my Papa (mom and Linda's dad) owned and ran. I didn't spend time with Linda on those days, because she was at work too. She would go to and from work with my mom, and she would work. We often said that the Daily Review wouldn't be able to operate without the true boss, Linda Shirley.
I remember spending time at the Daily Review, running around with the smell of printing ink floating through the air. That smell still stops me in my tracks. Linda had a desk in an office where she would neatly cut out pictures and file them into a box. She went around to everyone's desk every single day and flipped their day calendars to the correct day. She restocked the Coke machines. She swept the pressroom floor. She "inserted" newspapers, putting one section into another and counting them out into stacks to be delivered. She had a lot of different jobs, but it was that last one that always amazed me...even from a young age. You see, Linda was like 5 foot nothing on a good day with a pair of tennis shoes on standing straight up, so she had a stool she would stand on to insert. And she was good at it. She had a system, she would lick her finger on one hand, open the paper with the other hand, and slide the insert in while simultaneously moving the completed newspaper into a stack. She had a rhythm and a method that was efficient and effortless. There used to be multiple people inserting at tables scattered throughout the press room, and she was one of the best. I remember trying to do it a few times, even when I was older, and I sucked. There were inserts flying onto the floor, stacks falling over, a disaster. So I'm not fluffing when I say she was good. She earned every dollar of her paycheck at the Review. And we were all proud of her.
Every Saturday night, Mom, Dad, Jon Eric, and I would go over to Grandmama, Papa, and Linda's house and have hamburgers. "Red-burgers," we called them. [Red heads in my family is a badge of honor. My Papa was a red head, earning him the name "Red" by all who knew him, then came Linda, Uncle Steve, and Uncle Andy, all who were red heads. Then there was my mom...a brunette. But they loved her anyway!] Jon Eric and I would watch cartoons or Lawrence Welk with Linda while everyone would get dinner ready. I'd sneak away every single week to grab a bite of the pork-and-beans when they were set out on the table and Grandmama would act surprised every single time. At the table, Linda would say the blessing. As she got older and her words started slipping, she would say "God is great, God is good, thank Him for the food, and thank you Lord." Amen.
Linda was talented. I remember her teaching me how to make pot holders. She had the heavy duty loops that she would arrange into beautiful colored patterns to make up the pot holder. She gave them to everyone. Everyone. I honestly believe that at least half the town of Morgan City has a Linda pot holder. I have like 20 now as an adult. Jon Eric and his wife have plenty. Everyone at their church had them. After we moved to North Carolina when I was in the 4th grade, Linda, Grandmama, and Papa would come to visit us and we would go down to Morgan City every Christmas and summer, and Linda would always ask us our teacher's names and give us pot holders for them. Linda also did paint-by-number paintings. And I'm not talking about the little ones that like 4 year olds do, I'm talking about huge intricately elaborate ones that are beautifully displayed in the homes of my mom and her brothers now. In looking at them, you can't tell they are paint-by-numbers. It would take her months to complete one, but she worked on them faithfully on her blanket spread out on the living room floor with her lamp, brushes, paints, and magnifying glass. She would paint and paint, laying on her stomach and concentrating so hard through her cute glasses usually while watching the New Orleans Saints play.
Speaking of the Saints...if you know anything about NFL football, you know the Saints back in the day were embarrassingly horrible. Linda was the BIGGEST Saints fan in the entire state of Louisiana, and probably the world. Seriously. We often joked that Linda refused to die until the Saints won the Superbowl. She had shirts and hats and good luck charms, and she faithfully cheered them on every Sunday. Linda would get so antsy at the end of church if the preacher would start to go over because she needed to get home to see her Saints play. Unfortunately a few years ago when the Saints DID win the Superbowl, Linda's mental health had declined to a point that she probably didn't understand that they won. But I think she knew.
I remember playing with Linda and sitting cuddled up with her on the couch. I remember brushing my teeth in the bathroom next to her while she brushed her teeth with her electric toothbrush. We did tons of little things together and were quite inseparable as I grew up. She would often tell me 'secrets,' whispering "hey, Ash, come here!" And motion to me from across the room. I would get up to her and she'd lean in real close and whisper something into my ear. It would often be nothing really, like "did you see that?" or "yep, that right there," or sometimes just a deep breath or nothing at all. It never annoyed me, even as I grew older and long passed Linda in height to have to stop whatever I was doing and come and bend down and let her whisper nothing into my ear. Often times she'd look at me and giggle, sometimes clasping her hands in excitement, and shake her head yes for who knows why. It made me stop and thank God for her. I think little moments like that kept me human in a way.
Linda loved Jesus. We went to the same church in Morgan City and every Sunday, we always sat in the same row. Linda sat in between her mom and her dad and paid attention. She stood when we stood and prayed when we prayed. She opened her hymnal and sang her heart out. She was always about a half a beat behind, but it was beautiful. She gave her tithe every week. Every single week, she would bring money in her envelope and put it in the offering plate. During the Sunday School hour, she worked in the 5-year old classroom. She took the roll and delivered the attendance sheet to the office every week. In my mom's tribute she wrote that I will post later, mom references all of the little 5 year olds who are now adults, wondering the impact that Linda had on them. After Linda's passing last week, I got a message on Facebook from one of those 5 year olds. He is now 26 years old, and he commented on a picture I posted of Linda, 'I remember Linda. I love this picture, it's a great one of her. I remember when she taught my Sunday School class. Praying for your family.' I fully believe she understood heaven and Jesus and grace and love better than any of us can and taught a piece of that to everyone around her.
Do you know about Santa? Santa was Linda's favorite. She would giddily make out a list every year and write Santa a note. She would leave him milk and cookies and wake up on Christmas morning with more excitement than any child. When my Papa died unexpectedly on December 23, 2001, in the midst of a saddened stupor and funeral arrangements, Santa still had to come. He just had to. And he did, for Linda.
When Linda lost her dad, her Pa as she called him, she started declining. She started forgetting things and would say more and more things that didn't make sense. She lived with my Grandmama still, and at times we weren't sure who was taking care of who. Grandmama was heart broken over Papa's death, and it became difficult for her to care for Linda. Thankfully, my mom's 2 brothers, Uncle Steve and Uncle Andy, stepped in since they still lived in Morgan City. They helped care for Linda and Grandmama both, helping with the house, cooking meals, and caring for Linda. It was hard for us to be so far away, but we were so thankful that family was still able to help. Grandmama died in March of 2008 and Linda went to live with my Uncle Steve and Aunt Jean.
Brandon and I got married in June 2008. By this time, most of the time Linda didn't recognize people. She could still feed herself but had lost the ability to do other daily activities that she had been able to do before. Before our wedding, I walked down the stairs at the place we were married and Linda was sitting in her wheel chair at the bottom of the steps. When she saw me, she stood up. She didn't say a word, she just stood up when she looked straight at me, and I came down the stairs and hugged her for the longest time. That was the only time I cried at my wedding.
Over the past few years, Linda declined mentally and physically. It was during this time that my Uncle Steve cared for her in his home, a sacrifice that all of us are incredibly grateful for. She spent time at my parents house as well, and we watched as our sweet Linda slipped away. In the past few weeks, Linda's health took a quick turn for the worse. We knew without a doubt that the Lord was going to call her home soon. You see, Linda was never sick, probably because of that head full of stubborn red hair she had. So we knew that this was it. I was able to spend some time with her a few days before she died. I sat at her bedside with her and held her hand. I rested my head on her chest and listened to music with her. I played old hymns and tried my best to sing the words that she knew so well. As hard as it was seeing her tired body, I was filled with so much hope that soon she would be alive. To sit by the bedside of someone in their final days on this earth is nothing less than a sacred experience. I felt Jesus in that room. Knowing that He loved her more than I ever could was something that brought me peace and hope. I begged Him to take her home where she could be whole and perfect. I thanked Him for the full and abundant life she lived on this earth and the lessons she taught everyone around her about perseverance and defying all odds. I know that Linda loved Jesus, and she represented Him so well. She was the perfect representation of the sanctity of life, living a full and happy life when people told my grandparents that she never would. I said my earthly goodbye to Linda after spending those few days with her, knowing that I would not see her again on this side of heaven.
Last week, Linda went to be with Jesus. She died at her home with her 2 brothers, 1 sister, and their spouses at her bedside holding her hands and talking to her. I don't think we could have asked for anything more. Linda lived to be 64 years old, which is incredible for a women with Down's.
At Linda's funeral, we had many of her paintings and potholders out for display. Many people who came asked about the paintings, having no idea that Linda painted them. All of us beamed with pride as we showed off her work. To us, they represented her determination and her strength. Her service was beautiful, and was co-officiated by my parent's pastor and Brandon. My mom read something she wrote about Linda, and through the grace of God was able to read the entire thing in front of a sanctuary full of people. (Something she was unable to even do in her own living room!) I'm so proud of her.
I'm proud of everyone, actually. I'm proud of my grandparents who raised a "handicapped" child during a difficult time. I'm proud of the community that Linda grew up in, from the employees at the Daily Review who treated Linda like their own sister, to the little 5 year olds in her classroom at church who saw her as Linda, not someone with a disability. I'm proud of my mom and uncles who raised us, their children, to love Linda. I have always been drawn to people with disabilities. I fully believe that Linda is one of the reasons I am a pediatric nurse where many of my patients have different forms of disabilities. The way that I saw my family love Linda and treat her like she was "normal" mimics the love of Christ, something that I hope to teach to Lucas daily.
The day before I left to go and spend those last days with Linda, Lucas, Brandon, and I were eating dinner at Chick-fil-a. After dinner we went into the play place with Lucas and there was a little boy in there who ran straight up to Lucas. His name was Timmie, he was 3 years old, and he had Down's Syndrome. He ran right up to Lucas and stopped in front of him and he took Lucas's face in his hands, with one hand on each cheek. And for a few seconds, they just smiled at each other. Then a little spunky 6 year old girl bounced up to them and said "this is Timmie! He is my brother! You guys can play!" No funny looks, no differences, just two little boys who were about the same size and loved chicken nuggets and the play place. And Lucas and Timmie ran towards the toys together. A lump formed in my throat the size of a baseball and tears filled my eyes. I looked at Brandon and he just smiled. This is the type of love for people that I want Lucas to have his entire life.
I do miss Linda. I'm sad that she is gone from this earth. But I believe in a God that promises that one day all sad things will become untrue, and that we will sit around the throne worshiping together with all of the people that we love that have gone before us. Death is not to be feared, it swallowed up in victory. And for that, I am thankful.
If you're still reading, thank you. I hope I've shown you a little glimpse into Linda's life and why she was so much more than just my aunt. I leave you with this song which we heard every Saturday night while eating Red-burgers as Lawrence Welk closed his show. Goodnight!
