Grandmas, Babies, & Walking

On August 11, 1940 in Buffalo, New York, Gertrude & Joe Murphy welcomed a brand new baby girl into their lives — Marilyn Louise.  They called that sweet baby Marylou.  She was her mother’s joy – a joy that I now know with my own dear one.

Marylou was a wonderful baby and a good little girl.  She was imaginative, curious, and most likely always into something.  In the summer of 1944, an outbreak of polio swept the nation.  Hardest hit was Buffalo, NY at twice the rate as anywhere else in the country.  Sweet Marylou had a sore throat & a headache.  A headache so severe that she announced to her mother that she thought her head might fall off.

In those days, doctors made housecalls and when the doctor arrived, he knew immediately that she had been stricken with polio.  She was taken to the hospital immediately.  Her clothes and toys had to be destroyed — polio was & is extremely contagious.  Here is an excerpt from Dr. Richard Bruno’s “The Polio Paradox”:

“To house and treat the tens of thousands who contracted polio each year, special hospitals were built, and although the police were not typically employed to wrench polio survivors from their parents’ arms, doctors and ambulance drivers ripping children suspected of having polio away from their families was wrenching enough.” 

My grandmother lived in a children’s hospital - The Children’s Guild of Buffalo for most of her childhood.  She had years of painful therapy — body casts, metal rods, braces for her legs.  There are photos of her lying in bed and in a wheelchair, BUT there are also photos of her riding a bicycle with her crutches in a basket. 

She was a young grandmother when I was born in the summer of 1980.  Beginning that year, she would need to use a walker for mobility.  Can you imagine being 40 years old and needing a walker? 

 This is a picture of Mawmaw & me.  See those arms?  Best place to lay your head down and take a nap.  I loved snuggling into her.  We were buddies — I was her “legs”.  We spent a lot of time together running errands, playing games, and traveling around in her little blue Chevette.  By the way, she barely stood 4’11″ — she sat on phone books to see over the steering column.  There are a million things I want you to know about her, but the most important was that she was my grandmother and I loved her. 

Cancer took her from us when she was just 55 years old.  She was courageous to the end — our family & her friends cared for her until her last breath.  Isn’t that beautiful?  I’ve never seen love like that before. 

Fast forward to August 11, 2009 — on the day that my grandmother would have been 69 years old.  Her great-granddaughter, my Babycakes…  stood up & walked away.  From now on, on August 11th instead of feeling sad & missing my grandmother, I can think of the day that my baby first learned to walk. 

“A baby is God’s opinion that the world should go on.”

- Carl Sandburg