I write a lot about growing up south of the sugar beet factory railroad tracks in Billings; a melting pot of nationalities hailing from Canada, Belgium, Mexico, the Crow, Arapaho and Blackfoot Nation and a fair share of Montana raised city slickers whose backyards snuggled up to residents not wanting to leave the county because being connected to a septic tank was a financially safe way to get by.
The neighborhoods came in every shape, Phillips, Murphy, Stone and Jansma streets being the newly designed giving the poor kids raised on Ryan, Hill View and Morgan something to look up to during their quest to lift personal dreams above the family built shacks made of heavily weathered wood grabbed from other dwellings ripped down by hand to import bigger business to the downtown area.
Embarrassingly I admit the stepfather figure was the king of kings in the world of hoarding. We were trailer trash without there being a trailer. Wrecked cars that were singed into pieces parts then sold, horses, nearly 200 rabbits, 100 pigeons, a billion chickens, 2x4’s, 4x4’s, trim the sun dimmed, organs that had to be pumped by foot, metal pipes, rimless car tires made into forts and every style of bike made by man except the really cool nicely painted brands that came with banana seats and curved handle bars. We got what they didn’t want at the auction.
Surprisingly that’s not why neighbors and visitors to the homestead hood pointed their fingers. Nope…we had something bigger. The oldest son from my mother was a little bit different. We didn’t think so! He told incredibly funny jokes! Took unbelievable care of the animals with true inner city farmer passion, craved riding his bike, bowling and touch football; he cranked up the sounds of Dolly Parton, Porter Wagner and Buck Owens and wow did he ever love Evil Knievel and playing the piano.
So what’s the problem? Outside of Ryan Ave still being a single lane gravel road with no plans of ever changing, everything looks smells and feels ordinary.
I’ve known my brother for 48 years and through every unperfected chapter written, each unexpected challenge tossed out like candy on Halloween, into each day he continues to carry without chioce a single word. Eight collected letters that needed no invitation to invite fights with a passerby who assumed too much by not getting to know the man.
Thanks to nine year old Rosa Marcellino the “R” word is finally gone.
On October 6, 2010 President Barak Obama signed into federal law an official declaration that makes the “R” word illegal to use when describing the mental state of another human. Rosa’s Law is part of a worldwide campaign led by the millions of athletes that make up the Special Olympics who’ve stood up proud and peacefully shouted, “Spread the word to end the word…”
I’m proud to say it’s finally over.
Sadly English majors, college professors, doctors, lawyers and others wanting to take a shot at trying to preserve the “R” word have declared the new description of Intellectually Challenged as being wrong.
To which I ask, “Why do we need labels?” Why can’t Teddy and Rosa just be Teddy and Rosa? The only person that calls me a writer, poet, producer, visionary lyricist artist former teen who wanted to grow up to be a professional bowler is me. And I’ve yet to hear my brother use the “R” word while staring at his eyes in the mirror. He spends so much time trying to make others feel incredible about being alive that he deserves a better pat on the back like best friend ever or Dude that never stole my car.
Everywhere we walk we hear the “R” word inside playful talk, self abuse and inside doctors offices where they’re forced to explain why a particular part of your system doesn’t work the way it’s supposed to.
The government isn’t going to knock on the door if your child uses the “R” word on the playground or during a heated battle with a family member or coworker it falls out like a riper than ripe curse word. The effort to spread the word to end the word only starts with this generation…
We’ve come a long way…four decades ago doctors and my grandparents viciously tried to steal my brother from Mom’s loving arms and institutionalize him. God bless my mother and every parent like her who vowed to make a difference by not turning our brothers and sisters into science projects.
Now let’s grow forward and remove the “R” word during our everyday speak… Welcome to the first step of a brand new beginning!
arroecollins@clearchannel.com
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