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closeGuest Column: The game of life
Joan Cronk / guest columnist
My son leaned over and whispered in my ear, “This is totally one of those special needs moments isn’t it?” I agreed that it was.
We were at a Fourth of July picnic at a friend’s house, about 50 of us. It was great fun. Some of us met at the house early in the day and set up, trying to remember just what it was we had done the year before. Did we put the tables under the tree or up by the house? We had deep discussions about things like tablecloths and barbecues. The guys were in the field, running the lines for the baseball game.
Everyone arrived about 4 p.m. and it was a great day, despite the sudden downpour of rain. We ate and played golf and musical chairs. Some had canoe races on Clark’s Creek and then we started the baseball game.
My two children and their families participated in the baseball game while I watched the littlest of the kids and kept score. My grandson, Maxford, born with Down syndrome, was one of the players. He was mid-field, holding his mitt high in the air hoping to catch a fly ball. He is 4 years old.
All the kids got a chance to hit and run the bases and after the game everyone gathered around as my son pitched the ball to his son, Maxford. With a crack, the bat made contact with the ball. Maxford dropped the bat and took off running. Even though the sight of him running toward me as I stood at first base made me choke up, I snapped a great shot of him, his arms pumping and a wide grin on his face.
So when Jeff leaned into me and whispered, “This is totally one of those special needs moments, isn’t it?” I knew what he meant. None of us wanted to sign up for this — life with a special needs child. But Maxford is such a cool kid, and he is happy with his life. He is forcing the rest of us to accept life as it is, and to enjoy it.
So while I really wanted to be one of those grandparents on the sidelines with typical kids who got to REALLY play in the game, I’ve come to accept that I’m the one with the grandson who rides the short bus to school. That is OK. It is what it is.
Maxford will grow up and be a nice person. He likely won’t be packing a gun and I doubt if he will ever commit a crime. He won’t go to war. He also won’t drive a car or have what most of us consider to be a “normal” life.
But on the Fourth of July as he rounded third base toward home, I thought how none of that really mattered. Maxford had just hit a home run — and the crowd cheered.