Stanley

Stanley was not supposed to live. His people say he was born sideways. His nephew said he was normal until he fell down the front steps. Others say his mother is paying for the way she lived by having a ‘retarded boy.’ They say it sweetly as not to be insensitive, but it’s all the same, all the theories of why Stanley is the way he is. I just know that when he came to live with me everyone around him had given up or was just too busy with life to care for him.

Stanley was alone and had been a ward of the state. He had spent long periods alone and silent in sterile rooms. He came with a case number that was in larger font than his name. The only person that kept up with him was his Great Aunt Roberta. She’d call and send Stanley cards and money. She’d pray for him on the phone and he’d close his eyes and pretend to kiss her, tell her he loved her in his own way.

Stanley loved to draw trees in his small black notebook. So I taught him to spell tree. “Stanley, spell tree.”

“T-R-E-E-E!”

“What’s that spell, Stanley?”

“TREE!” He’d raise his hands in triumph. I would too and we’d both applaud and laugh.

Stanley is simple and sweet. He is 27 years old and shy, but when he opens up he is so courageous in trying to learn. I have been trying to get Stanley to be more independent. He had so many anxieties. Initially, he wouldn’t go out of the house. After a while I got him to go in the yard to the car. We have come so far that he can go down the street, touch the lamp post and come home.

Stanley has come to know the neighbors by their trees. We drive down the street. “Stanley, whose tree is that?”

“Mr. Roland tree.”

“And that tree?”

“Mrs. Lee tree.”

“And what about that big, wild tree there?”

“Mr. New..some tree!”

One day Aunt Roberta called and spoke to me for a while before speaking with Stanley. “Romus, I am sure you’re aware that I haven’t been well for a while…”

“Yes, Ma’am”

“Well, Romus, I am not going to be around much longer. I know I have far more days behind me than I have ahead of me.”

“Yes Ma’am. But Ma’am, you aren’t going anywhere.”

“No, Romus, we all are going to move on at some point. Greater people than myself have been taken on to the Lord.”

Realizing the seriousness of the moment I got quiet and let the early afternoon close around us. “Yes Ma’am.” I let her speak.

She coughed twice and said authoritatively, “Romus, I have terminal cancer and it has metastasized and spread to my lungs. I’ll spare you the details, but I am calling to say that I am glad Stanley is with you and that you have done an admirable job in taking care of him and giving him some semblance of a life. I couldn’t do it. His mother and the rest refused to do it. I thank God for you.”

“Thank you so much, Ma’am. I try my best.”

“I know you do, and Romus, I have saved a little money and I am sending it to you to as my contribution to Stanley’s care before the vultures can say I was loopy or incompetent, you know? Before they can steal it. Now let me speak to Stanley.” She talked to Stanley for a few minutes. He told her about a tree in his own way, said her name a few times, and blew his ritual kiss into the phone. She hung up before I could thank her or ask any questions.

Stanley had learned about the largest living thing on earth, the General Sherman tree in Kings Canyon National Park in the Giant Forest sequoia grove. I brought him a picture book and he’d look at it over and over. “Stanley, say sequoia.”

“Se..quaa…”

“Take it slow and follow me, ok? Se…”

“Se…”

“Quo…”

“Quo…”

“Ia!”

“Ia!”

We laughed and continued to practice the word.

Later that week I discovered in my bank statement that $20,000 had been deposited into my account from a Roberta Tillman. I was stunned. I called her and got no answer. I called various relatives of Stanley’s for more than a month. Finally someone named Tim the phone. Aunt Roberta had passed way almost four weeks prior. He offered no more information.

I told Stanley of his Great Aunt’s passing. I hope he understood. Stanley has been with me since he was 21. When he first came he would mention his family, refer to them by their nicknames, but as time went on he and his family seemed to forget about each other. They didn’t call and he wouldn’t ask, except for his Great Aunt Roberta. In her physical absence I hope his Aunt Roberta hadn’t become just a voice on the phone and gotten lost in the cacophony of life. Only time will tell.

Summer was coming and the world was wide and wonderful. I found Stanley’s little black book. He had been trying to draw the General Sherman tree over and over. Other trees in the book were small or round, but this new tree was tall and strong with sticks and leaves at the very top. Stanley would bring me the picture book on the Giant Forest and sit down to listen. I’d always read slow. When I’d say ‘sequoia’ he’d say it with me.

I encouraged Stanley to do more and to be more adventurous. He got his own chair to sit in the front yard. He made friends with a neighbor’s cat. He’d go to the ice cream truck and hand the man the money, get his ice cream, and say thank you. One day I saw a program on California’s natural attractions and Kings Canyon National Park was mentioned. Now that we could afford it, I had an idea.

“Stanley, come here.” I called him out into the front yard. “Would you like to go and see the big, big, big General Sherman Tree, the sequoia in California?”

“He said, “Yes, yes!...,” and started dancing around. “Big, big, big tree!”

“But Stanley, you have to prove to me that you’re ready for such a trip.”

He stopped dancing and looked at me seriously. I called him close. “You have to take an apple to Mr. Newsome and come back here.”

I went into the house and brought out a beautiful green apple. “Now Stanley, take this apple and knock on Mr. Newsome’s door and give it to him. Ok?”

Stanley took the apple and stood there. I took his shoulders and ushered him to the edge of the yard and faced him towards Mr. Newsome’s house. I pointed, “Right there, Stanley. Go. Hurry and come right back.”

Stanley went slowly, looking back at me all the while. I waved him on until he went. I saw him go into Mr. Newsome’s yard and traverse the walk, up the two steps to his door. Stanley was looking back at me in the distance, but I stayed steady, nodded, let him know I was watching. Mr. Newsome’s door opened and I saw the puzzlement on his face. He looked around beyond his great tree and bushes for an explanation and saw me. I nodded and smiled, and he nodded. Stanley presented the apple and Mr. Newsome smiled and received it.

Stanley turned, jumped, and ran down the walk to the sidewalk. I was so proud of him. When he got to the yard I hugged him. I asked, “What did Mr. Newsome say?”

“Thank you Stanley!”

Stanley was so excited that he wanted to take Mr. Newsome something else. I high fived him and told him that maybe he could bring Mr. Newsome an orange in a few days.

At dinner that evening Stanley was still excited. He brought his picture book to the table. “Se-quo-ia?”

“Yes, sequoia,” I replied.

He put his finger on the picture and traced along it, “Se-quo-ia go?”

Stanley had never been anywhere due to many circumstances, but lately the world has been so new and so full of so many bright things, the best one being Stanley himself. I nodded and rubbed his head, “Yes, you went to Mr. Newsome, gave him an apple. Yes you did. And because you went, yes, we will go to sequoia. Stanley, yes we will.”