Simpler Times

THE REAL TEST IS YET TO COME

By Charles D. Williams, M.D., FACR, FAAP (“Pedro”)

It has been a tradition in South Georgia to periodically visit the burial plots of relatives who have passed on and to make sure the grounds were being kept up and to place some flowers at the grave site. With Mother’s Day coming up, Millard (my Dad) and Pedro decided to visit Mama’s and Grandma’s resting place and take some flowers. Mama loved daisies.

When I started to school in 1946 at Culbertson (a rural country school), I looked around and felt slightly embarrassed wearing those floppy sole shoes and those flour sack shirts even though Mama had put a lot of care into each stitch. After a few days in the first grade I looked beyond myself and saw Jerry. He didn’t even have any arms. I now can’t remember his last name but his image is still clear. He was bare-footed and actually held the pencil between his toes and did his assignments. He could jump high and run fast. He treated me nice and gave me courage.

Years later I met Granger at Mercer. He lived across the hall from me and we joined the same fraternity. He graduated as the #1 student, obtained his Ph.D., and came back to Mercer to teach history.

Granger was blind. He did his reading in Braille, did his book reports listening to 33 1/3 records and typed his assignments. He taught us to laugh at our minor misfortunes and make fun of our minor handicaps. He, like many Southerners, taught us to laugh at our own tragedies.

One night it was hot in our dorm room without air conditioning. Granger decides to go outside and study by Braille in the pitch-black dark but it was always dark for Granger. A campus guard came by in the wee hours and asked him, “What are you doing young man?” Granger replied, “Studying.” The campus cop, thinking Granger had lost his mind, took him in for further questioning.

Granger and I signed up together for English with profession Griffin. Granger talked better than me and he wrote better than me or rather than I. I never did learn to type. One night after finishing a book report, I dropped off by his room and heard him playing a 33 1/3 record on 78 speed. It was just a jumbling. I asked, “Granger, what in the world are you doing?” He replied, “I’m running behind on my book report so I’m just skimming.”

Granger was the only blind person on campus except for one other person. She was a female. They had a date and he came back discussing his good-looking blind date. Chris’ car, an old Karmann Ghia. Chris would squeal the tires, turn the corners sharply, and stop abruptly. Upon arrival, Granger said, “I’m sure glad I’m blind or I’d be a nervous wreck.”

One day around Christmas time, Granger, Pope Hamrick and I had gone downtown to Macon and we asked Granger what he wanted for Christmas. He jokingly said, “A flashlight.” We took him at his word and took him in a store and purchased one. When the clerk asked, “What about batteries?” Granger quickly responded, “Oh no, we don’t need batteries.” Granger overcame his handicap with humor and hard work and set an example for others with less problems.

Later, Dickie Starnes arrived at Mercer and joined mine and Granger’s fraternity. He had been a swimming star until the polio years. This changed his life. He became paralyzed from the neck down. He could no longer walk or feed himself. He could now only move his head, think and keep his pride and dignity. His parents hired a special roommate who fed him and took care of his personal necessities. In class his friends would place a small stick about the size of a pencil in his mouth which he used to turn pages. My friends and I would take Dickie to the movies, to ball games, and to the social events in a specially designed chair. Dickie was gracious, dignified, appreciative and bright, and he finished law school. Years later he was selected as the outstanding Jaycee in the whole state of Georgia, elected to the Georgia House of Representatives, and elected State Court Judge for three terms before he succumbed to respiratory problems. There is a plaque located in the old Court House in Rome, Georgia in honor of Dickie, my friend.

I now reflect back and feel embarrassed that I felt handicapped because of a lack of things. My friends, Jerry, Granger, and Dickie had the real problems but yet they had the real strengths and the real courage. They set the real examples. I hope I’ve learned their lessons well. For most of us the real test is yet to come.

Reprinted with author permission from More Simpler Times.

Dr. Williams’ sequel book, More Simpler Times, can be purchased from the Capital Medical Society. All proceeds from the book are donated to the Capital Medical Society Foundation’s We Care Network program. The total sales from his books have raised over $39,000 for the CMS Foundation’s We Care Network.