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Upon Their Hands They Will Carry you
Page 38


Mrs. Graves was a woman who was past the bloom of youth which was to be respected. Replacing that time of life was a bearing of maturity. As I sat across from her now with Rhonda beside me in the wheelchair her traits of having worked with people was evident. She was unhurried as we visited. One after another topic was discussed regarding doctor’s diagnosis, schools Rhonda had attended and whatever else might help her in making a decision for placement. I fully expected to have to go home and come back, but not so. She called an aide into the room and we visited for a while about Rhonda’s special needs and she was willing to do what was necessary to get started. Finally Mrs. Graves called a girl into her office.

The girl, who was Rhonda’s age, looked to be healthy in every way. She was quite shabby in her appearance though. There were no shoes upon her feet, the t-shirt she was wearing had “Annie Green Springs Wine,” lettered across it. The girl-child had a pleasant personality even though she was a bit quiet and reserved the quick smile when she looked at Rhonda seemed to light up her face.

“Marcy will be taking Rhonda to her classes and stay with her to see she has any help needed.” Mrs. Graves was matter of fact, as if she had already done this many times and I knew that couldn’t have been so. My thinking was a little guarded on the appearance of the girl but the lady in charge was so competent there was no room for discussion on this matter.

“When would you like for me to bring Rhonda to school.” I asked.

“Well, if you don’t mind, we would like for her to start immediately.” Mrs. Graves was ready to accept the challenge. “In a few days, if you wish, it would be good to make a visit to meet her teachers and go from class to class with her just so you can get an idea of what her schedule will be.”

I did just that but, right away, could see there was no need for me to be there. Annie Green Springs had everything under control and the two girls seemed to be fast friends by this time. Gone was the labeled shirt and it was replaced with a cute, fashionable one. She wasn’t wearing shoes yet but she did have a pair of flip-flop thongs on her feet. Instead of her loose oily looking hair hanging about her face it was now shining clean and caught up into a pony tail held there by a faddish tie. Something about her taking care of Rhonda had changed her personality from one of a retiring, shy person to an outgoing, smiling, friendly teen-age girl. The two girls went giggling down the hall as I slipped out the door. Rhonda was in her chair and the girl was bending over to whisper into her ear something only the two of them could share.

Driving back and forth morning and night to deliver and pick the two up was something I enjoyed. As I drove over a road that went by the legendary house where the evening sitcom, Dallas, was filmed. I saw the property when it had falling down fences and was unpainted to the time it was back to the shining place it must have once been. Natalie Duncan and her husband, who was a contractor, were working on it. She had a son who went to school with Mark.

The curving road wound through the new mansions where Arabian stallions stood on the lawns obediently dressed in their coats. I enjoyed watching a hired hand painting the miles of white fences only, finally, to be seen with a spray gun as he whipped out the job with ease.

The Donahoes, my landlords, were growers and in production as a large farm. I believe, the show Dallas, the story, was really about them. Certainly, the names gelled. There was Bud, Bill, the Mother, Mrs. Donahoe herself, who favored Bell in the show. Patsy, Bud’s wife, was as perky as Bobby’s wife in the movie. I became acquainted with them and would enjoy their hospitality much like family.


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