Beginning Years

First, I would like to apologize to all journalists, writers and English teachers for my penmanship. I am not a professional writer. I am here to talk about my life as a woman who has to use a wheelchair in order to live her life.




This is dedicated to Mom for teaching me unconditional love and that I am special in the eyes of Christ. Psalm 31:10-31(NIV)

This is also dedicated to my husband & best friend, Jay, for loving me unconditionally. Ephesians 5:25-28 (The Message)



I was born in Asheville, NC, Oct. 5, 1953 to a full time Army career man and a full time homemaker. At that time my dad was stationed in Germany. Up to then, he had fought in 3 invasions. One evasion was on D-Day (not saving Pvt. Ryan but the REAL D-DAY) fighting to keep America's freedom. His last invasion was fighting in the front lines of Korea. My mom grew up with 1 brother and 3 sisters during the depression. They both grew up during hard times, seeing a lot and learning how to survive.



When I came into this world, I had 1 sister, Brenda. Brenda was a month away of being 5 years old. She was born before Dad went to Korea, I was born afterwards. This will be mentioned again at a later time. So look out for Korea again!



Mom named me Vicky and spelled my name with a "y" instead of "I" or "ie" like everyone else was spelling the name because.........ho hum.........the doctor spelled it that way on my birth certificate!

No, my name is not a nickname from Victoria. Ta dah.......See, from the very beginning, God was starting to make me different than anyone else through my name! To this day, I have to tell others it is with a "y" not "I" or "ie"! The origin of the name Vicky is Latin which means conqueror; victory. Hmmmm!



2 years passed and I was starting to learn how to walk. Mom started noticing the way I was walking, climbing stairs and getting up off the floor when I would fall down. It was different than the way my sister learned to walk and how other children walked. When I climbed the stairs I had to hold on to something or someone to take a step up. When I fell down on the floor I would walk up my legs, with my hands, in order to stand up again. When I walked, I would walk on my toes. Maybe, I was learning how to ballet. After all, I do love the art of dancing!



Of course my parents had me examined and analyzed. I spent some nights in hospitals. The only thing I remember from one stay is I had shared my room with other children who had their own crib. It was a coed room because across from me was a blonde hair, mean, loud, obnoxious boy! (My 1st encounter with boys) He kept yelling at me, calling me names and throwing things at me. Not a good impression...huh!



When Dad was stationed at Ft. Bliss, Texas (El Paso), the doctors diagnosed me with muscular dystrophy. Back then, scientists and doctors did not know much about the disease. They knew my muscles would be weak, I wouldn't live to be old and I wouldn't function, physically, like other children. The doctors prescribed me shoes with a bar between them. I was to wear them while sleeping. It was suppose to help my feet grow correctly. I also had to wear these brown, heavy, ugly, oxfords during the day. These, oxfords, were so heavy I could hardly lift my feet. For the life of me, I can never understand why people running have to put weights on their ankles! It was miserable!



My brother, Jimmy, was born in November, 1960, in Texas and at that time, Dad retired from the Army. By next February, we moved back to Asheville, NC. We traveled in a black, Impala, with a front floor air condition and blinds in the back window, luggage in the back and all kinds of things tied on top. Jimmy was 4 months old, Brenda was 12 years old and I was 7! Besides, 2 adults, a baby, 2 girls, there was a white chicken (my pet, of course) named Princess and a parakeet. We really looked like Ma & Pa Kettle (the Real McCoy’s for those who were born later). One thing I do remember about our trip is while we were in a motel, Dad called me over to see a new show on TV, "The Flintstones". Dad was excited at a cartoon which was airing on primetime TV. He loved cartoons!



I finished out grade 1 in a small, private school. The school only went through the 1st grade so everyone I knew had to attend 2nd grade in another private school or go to public school. Mom wanted me to attend the Catholic School because it was the only private school around. Remember, this was the early 1960's and private schools were almost non-existent. Only the upper crust went to private schools or so I thought. Anyway, Mom wanted me to attend a private school because she thought it would be the best for me physically. Needless to say, I said "NO, I want to go to a public school where my friends are going!" I also said "I do not like these shoes & I am not wearing them anymore!" Well, I TOLD her! Hmmmm, do you think I was a little demanding? I never took "NO" for an answer (still don't) so I ended up attending 2nd grade at Aycock Elementary School with my friends. Also, I no longer wore those ugly torture shoes! I was free or so I thought!