I am extremely honored to include this guest post in my humble blog Living with Cerebral Palsy. Not only does John Quinn live with CP, but he managed to overcome and hide his condition well enough to serve in the Navy for 20 years! His story is nothing less than amazing! As a relative of many veterans, I will always be very proud of the men and women who serve; but, for this man to do so is absolutely astonishing to me!

Click on Book Cover to Learn more about John and his Amazing Example

I was invited to speak at the Centers for Disease Control (CDC) recently. In attendance were kids with cerebral palsy, their parents and noted doctors from around the country. These are my words -

What do you want to be when you grow up?

That question has been posed to kids as long as there have been family reunions, pesky relatives, and wedding receptions. I remember being asked that question and after careful consideration, proclaimed “I’m gonna be a baseball player.” The next week it was a policeman like my father and the week after that, a movie star.

When I was 11 years old, my oldest brother, Michael came home on leave after completing Navy boot camp. I remember his short hair, shiny black shoes, and the way his dog tags jingled around his neck. He looked and acted so different from the person who had left three months prior that it made a big impression on me. I silently told myself that if I ever had the opportunity to join the Navy that is what I really wanted to do. I would run home from school, grab a snack, go up to my bedroom and, thanks to the writings of Michener, Wolk, and Steinbeck, be instantly transported to exotic places like Hawaii, Hong Kong, or Egypt. I would dream of one day leaving my middle-class existence and walking the streets of those cities as a United States Sailor.

When it came to serving my country, dreaming was as far as I thought it would go. You see, I was born with cerebral palsy. I couldn’t walk on my own until age four, was partially paralyzed on the right side of my body, and my left foot is two and a half sizes smaller than the other. I wore thick glasses, walked with a limp and was so skinny that my clothes literally hung from my body like a dried-up scarecrow. I was laughed at, bullied by most everyone and struggled to find my place in the world.

Any success I’ve had in my life is due to the way I was raised by my parents, Edgar and Shirley. One of eight kids (in a one bathroom home) the fact that I had cerebral palsy was really no big deal in our house. Yes, I had to go through grueling physical therapy twice a week, wear eye patches and “special” orthopedic shoes, but my CP was not the focal point of the Quinn household. I don’t ever remember it being discussed at the family dinner table. I was just one of eight kids, and that’s the way I liked it. My parents told me that I could do just about anything that I put my mind to and let me go out and find my own way in the world. From trying to ice skate, sled down the appropriately named Dead Man’s Hill to joining the wrestling team, I would try something, fall, and try again. When I tumbled, they didn’t automatically come rushing over to pick me up. They knew that as someone born with cerebral palsy, life was going to be tougher for me and wanted to see if I would rise on my own. I remember one wrestling match in high school where my opponent threw me with such force that I landed off the mat, my head striking the hard gym floor. Mom, who was in the bleachers, came down and asked my coach one question “Is there any blood?” “No, Mrs. Quinn, Johnny just got knocked out. He’ll come to in a second.” “Okay,” said my mother, as she made her way back up into the stands. Find a way to get up on your own, son.

When I told my mom and dad of my life-long dream of joining the Navy, they patted me on the back and wished me luck. I’m not sure, but I think they had their fingers crossed behind their backs.

Well, I failed the entrance physical needed to join the military. I fell over when ordered to get down in a catcher’s squat. I was too weak to hold up my own body weight and was told the Navy couldn’t use someone like me.

Arriving home in shame, I told Dad that I couldn’t pass the physical because it was too hard. My father looked me square in the eye and said, “John, life is hard. Question is, what are you going to do about it?”

The next day found me down in the basement struggling to get into that catcher’s squat. I worked out every day for a year in that musty cellar, and then tried to join the Navy again. I passed this time with flying colors. I think I was the best duck-walker in the entire building.

So for the next 20 years, I served in the United States Navy sailing around the world on aircraft carriers, battleships, and destroyers. No one knew about my disability. I stood every watch, took the toughest assignments and lived the life of a sailor at sea. I am occasionally asked, “Why did you keep your CP a secret for so long? Were you embarrassed by the fact that you have cerebral palsy?” No, I am not embarrassed by my CP. I kept it a secret from Navy officials so that I could have the same opportunity as everyone else. I wanted that level playing field, to be judged on my ability, not my disability. I didn’t want to be known as “that sailor with cerebral palsy.” I just wanted to be the best sailor that I could be. Come to find out, I had the ability to be a very good sailor, rising to the rank of Senior Chief Petty Officer, the second highest enlisted rank one can achieve. Some who have served with me have called me the finest sailor they have ever met. I take great pride in this and am honored to have had the opportunity to serve my country.

Shortly after I retired from the Navy, and living back in my hometown, I received a call from my best friend, Phil Freeman. Phil is the principal of Pioneer Middle School in Plymouth, Michigan and requested my assistance with a young boy named Trevor, who would be attending the sixth grade. Phil had shared some of my story with Trevor’s family and they wanted to meet me. Would I be interested? You bet! So, on the morning of sixth grade orientation, I was introduced to Trevor and his entire family, including his grandparents. I believe it’s the first time that they had ever met an adult with the same handicap as their boy, someone who had overcome the odds to lead a successful, happy life. We recognized our common symptoms from across the room. My experiences helped educate the family and made me realize that I had an obligation to help others by sharing my story. That is exactly what is happening. The comments that I’ve received since Someone Like Me has been released are remarkable and I find that I’m the one being inspired by my readers.

For example, a woman from Colorado writes:

“…so much of what you describe both physically and emotionally I have been thru or felt. Thank you for telling my story…”

A father of a young boy with CP writes from Missouri:

“Just finished Someone Like Me. To say your story is inspirational would be an understatement. This book is for everyone who ever thought or said the words “I can’t…” It also helps fill the long ignored information void regarding living with cerebral palsy as an adult.”

Another reader sent in this note:

“Thank you for writing your book. By sharing your amazing story, I now have hope for my son, who just turned two and has been diagnosed with cerebral palsy. Can you sign a book for him? I plan to put it way and then hand it to him when he is old enough. It’s so nice to know there are successful people living their life with CP…”

I’ve even received comments from readers as far away as India, Greece and this note from a mom living in England:

“Dear Mr. Quinn. I want to send you a big thank you for writing this book. The last line of your book states that we are never alone; that there is always hope. I plan on repeating those words to my young son whenever he feels down and out…”

You all have greatness inside you. Each and every one of you has worth. Do not let your disability stop you from achieving the things in life that you want to do. Let’s take a closer look at that word disability. I am not an English major, but I know that the prefix “dis” means the absence of. So the word disability means the absence of ability. If that’s the case, then yes, I have a disability. I cannot do fractions. In fact, when it comes to anything having to do with math, I struggle mightily. Don’t call me for home improvements or car repairs, because I don’t know which end of the screwdriver to hold. Another disability.

But there are many areas of my life in which I am very capable. Some big, others small. Everyone has some ability to offer this world. You just have to find it. It might be hidden deep down inside you, just yearning to come out. For my disabled friends, don’t let your handicap hold you back. Don’t listen to the people that tell you it cannot be done. My parents told me that I could do anything that I put my mind to and I believe that to be true for anyone, regardless of obstacles faced. If you don’t push yourself to find your ability, who will? Franklin Delano Roosevelt suffered with polio and became President of the United States. Albert Einstein didn’t talk until the age of three. What would the world be like if these people had given up? Can you imagine FDR saying, “I can’t do it, it’s too hard.”

Have you always wanted to paint but thought it was a waste of time? Perhaps you’ve felt a strong desire to get up on stage in your community theater but were ridiculed when you shared your dream out loud? I have been laughed at. Most people thought it was nuts for a guy with cerebral palsy to even dream of joining the Navy. When I decided I wanted to write my memoir, some scoffed. “You’ve never written anything before. What makes you think you can write a book?” You’ll learn there are people in this world that will place roadblocks in your way and smile as they do it. These folks will use words like “impossible”; “never”; or phrases like, “That’s the way it’s always been done around here.” Whenever I encounter these people, I just smile, store their comment away and use it as fuel to achieve my goal.

I’m going to let you in on another secret. Just because you do things differently, does not mean that it’s wrong. It’s just different. Think of it as your own unique way of getting things done – your own style. When I run, I run differently. My arms don’t swing naturally and my left foot turns inward as I move forward. You can hear me coming from a mile away as my flat feet hit the pavement. But that’s just the way that I run. I cannot change my stride. It’s considered different, but I still run. You should not be embarrassed if you need to use a power chair, walker or breathing device to help you live the life you want for yourself. It’s what you have to do. Please use every resource as your disposal so that you can achieve the greatness that’s inside you. I want you to become so good at what you do that people look past your disability and see you for the wonderful person that you are.

To the doctors and therapists here today, I have a message for you as well. I cannot tell you how many parents I’ve met who, after introducing me to their son or daughter, said, “You know, the doctors stated that my little Susan would never -you can fill in the blank here – walk without assistance; speak; go to school; live a full and productive life. Parents are looking for hope and I think it’s time we give it to them. Let’s raise the bar up and tell parents, in a time when they need it most, what is possible with hard work, sacrifice, and the miracle of modern medicine. Dr. Edward Hurvitz, Departmental Chair of Physical Medicine and Rehabilitation at the University of Michigan agreed when he wrote about my book:

“…my goal has always been to open doors and increase opportunities for young people with disabilities. However, I see that I have not advised my patients to push the horizon enough. I now know that given determination, bravery and desire, much more is possible for my patients than I could imagine before. This book is a must for every physician, therapist, and other caregiver that treats individuals with cerebral palsy or any other disability. It also is a must for every young person who ever looked at a goal and thought it was just out of reach. Perhaps he or she should look again.”

You want to know what I look forward to? I look forward to the day when a parent comes up to me and says, “John, the doctors told me that my daughter would one day graduate from high school, but I didn’t believe them. You know what, Mr. Quinn? I was wrong. My Kathy graduated last week!” I say the future is unwritten and last time I checked, there is no medical test that measures the depth of the human spirit. Great things are possible.

So, let me ask you again.

What do you want to be when you grow up?

Thank you all very much.

I have basically been sitting around for two days. I’ve been watching movies, taking naps, working a little, and knitting a little. But, I have been avoiding using my shoulder as much as possible. It does feel better today. But, I probably should call the doctor this week, close my eyes, and let her poke me with that mammoth needle for the cortisone shot again. Maybe I can put it off for a few more days.

The Day of Reckoning

In the meantime, tomorrow is the day of reckoning. Sore shoulder and living with cerebral palsy or not, the house is a disaster. My son needs to pick up the living room and I have a sink full of dishes and a couple of loads of laundry waiting. I put it off one more day by ordering pizza for supper. Since it’s his all-time favorite food, I got no complaints, but it’s not the most economic solution.

So, one more night of being lazy, a nighttime snack with a Tylenol and ibuprofen chaser, and I should be good to tackle those pesky chores again tomorrow.

What do you put off, in an effort to make your days just a little bit easier?

A few days ago a friend mentioned that she should bring lunch over to my house so we could visit. Since I don’t get out much in the winter, it sounds like fun. Then, she told me that she would like to hear more about living with cerebral palsy, because she wanted to understand it better.

Since there are such varying degrees of cerebral palsy and different types, I still have much to learn. For example, I am still not sure about the difference between spastic, athetoid, and ataxic cerebral palsy. Although I have spastic cerebral palsy, I wonder if I have a mix. So, I obviously don’t know about how you face the challenges of living with cerebral palsy. I can only speak for myself. But, here is a brief glimpse of living with cerebral palsy – at least for me.

ME

I finally learned to walk when I was two. I was so small, mom told me they had to cut the bottoms off the crutches so they would fit. I fell down a lot; so, I remember my parents carrying me a lot, especially outside, so that I wouldn’t trip on a crack in the sidewalk, or something else, and fall down.

I still managed to fall a lot. It was especially hard on my mom. All you have to do is talk about blood, and she gets this hinky feeling behind her knees. Since your head is heavy, I always seemed to land there. Head wounds bleed a lot. Once when my sister was fixing my hair for me, she said that my head looked like a baseball, because I have had so many scars.

Having spastic cerebral palsy means tense and unrelenting muscles. Even under sedation, a doctor once told me that my legs never totally relax. I am relaxing in the recliner right now, but I am not relaxed below the waist. My legs are always tense. But, it gets worse when I feel conspicuous. My legs will tense up and bounce out in front of me. Look out if you are ahead of me in line. I might kick you.

If I am pressed for time and trying to get ready to go somewhere, it takes me even longer than usual to get ready. My legs are so tense that it takes all of the strength in my arms to get them to move. For example, my son had a fever seizure when he was three. We were home alone, and I was in my PJ’s, since I knew we weren’t going anywhere.

I was scared to death. I had never seen anything like it. I still have no idea how I got to him as fast as I did. I was so scared. I called my mom who lived next door. She called the ambulance. Next thing I knew, my house was full of paramedics and cops. They took him away in the ambulance and told me to follow, after I got dressed. My legs were so tense, they wouldn’t bend AT ALL. I was 40 years old and my mother dressed me, so that we could get to the hospital. (Since my daughter has left home and is in college, she talks more about growing up as my kid. She said she used to like to get me excited, just because she knew my legs would tense up and start popping up and down.)

Even on a good day, I always plan for it to take at least 30-60 minutes to get dressed. If I want to be at church by 9am, (3 miles away) I get up no later than 7:00-7:30.

In the winter, the spastic muscles are even worse. If my joints hurt, the muscles are even more tense. Then, the muscles start to hurt. When I get cold, my muscles might as well be made of steel. They don’t bend. Getting me in the car is very difficult. More than once my mom or my kids have had to fold me into the car, using all of their strength to make my muscles give. As I get older, the spastic muscles seem to get worse.

I am very definitely not even as mobile as I used to be. I sat down permanently in the wheelchair about 8-9 years ago, because my hip hurt so bad and I was getting dangerously wobbly.

When I get in from the cold, it takes a long time for my legs to get warm, because my circulation is poor. Warm showers help, but I am so stiff that it’s even harder to pull myself in the shower. I am basically dead weight from the waste down. Medically speaking I am an incomplete paraplegic. I can move my lower extremities some; but, I have to think about it really hard. Also my legs work together. So, if you ask me to concentrate and move my left toes, changes are good my right toes will move as well. An yes, if you poke me I CAN FEEL PAIN. I have been stepped on and bumped into, and people are sometimes surprised when I say ouch.

Cerebral palsy is a brain injury, usually suffered at birth. However, there have been instances when a person was severely injured by abuse or an accident. Approximately 50% of people with CP also suffer varying degrees of learning disabilities. So, I consider myself VERY fortunate. I know that I am very blessed.

YOU

So, what about you? What kind of cerebral palsy do you/or you loved one live with every day? If someone asked you to explain your CP, what would you tell them?

I have always been grateful for my brother and sister. But, since the passing of my Grandmother, I have especially been thinking about how fortunate I am to have them in my life. By the same token, I have also been thinking how much they did/ and still do for me. Do you realize that your siblings are living with cerebral palsy too?

Pardon the Flashback

Although I didn’t pay attention at the time, as a child with special needs, my mom had to spend much more time taking care of me than my brother or sister. It also meant she didn’t have as much time for them. But, I never once heard either one of them complain.

I had to go to therapy; I had to have surgery; It cost more money to raise me. Since my parents were not wealthy, I am sure it also meant they had to do without something, so I had what I needed.

Growing up, my brother had to carry me onto the bus every day. In 7th grade, when I had to stay at home with a tutor, because I had surgery, I would take my wheelchair a quarter mile down the lane to meet the bus at the end of the school day. My brother or sister would push me back. On day, the ground was muddy. I thought I could make it anyway. My siblings found me half way down the lane and sunk axle deep in mud. My brother dug me out.

My sister would stay in and play Barbies with me, when she could have been outside playing with her friends. She was often my hands and feet, fetching and carrying things for me. I fell down in high school once. The principle and teachers were afraid to pick me up. I guess they were afraid of a lawsuit, if they hurt me. My sister was called out of class. She asked me if I was alright. Then, she proceeded to pick me up, make sure I was good to go, and then went back to class. She wasn’t much bigger than me.

In the Present

After my Grandma’s death, my sister came to my house to see how I was doing. I was impressed at how strong she was under the circumstances. She informed me that she had to be strong for me. I didn’t think so. But, she said that she had to because she was my big sister and looking out for me. My brother talked to me and told me to call him “anytime”, if I just needed to talk.

Of course, this is only one example. My siblings have always been there for me, watching out for me, and sacrificing for me. I love them very much. I am so glad that they did not grow up resenting me, because they were living with cerebral palsy too. Instead, they tell me how much I am loved, how proud they are of me, and other things that simply bring tears of thankfulness to my eyes.

Do you have a Sibling Living with Cerebral Palsy?

Whether you are still living at home or all grown up and away, do you have a sibling that also lives with CP? Are you blessed to have a brother or sister that is supportive and encouraging, even to the point of self-sacrifice? Have you told them how much they mean to you? Well, there is no time like like the present.

Normally, I don’t like to make New Year resolutions. It takes only a few days, a week, or a month and I am doomed to fail. I would rather not make promises that I cannot keep. Instead, I want to live each day as if it is a fresh start-a chance to LIVE and live well. Would you like to join me in 2011? I am Living with Cerebral Palsy and resolving to LIVE in 2010.

On December 20, 2011 my family lost our matriarch. My grandmother Rose McLaughlin was 94. She lived and died at home. Grandma was one of the strongest women I know, but she was also shy and very humble. She saw 4 generations of her descendants and she treated us all special.

Grandma’s house was always the same. Even if you hadn’t been there in a year, her home was welcoming, comfortable, familiar, and filled with memories of her love and the people she loved.

One of my best memories was the summer I was 15. My grandparents took me home with them for 5 weeks all by myself. No parents or siblings-just me. I was never treated as if I was disabled. I was just special because I was me. I can’t even remember really talking about it back then, but we must have during that summer, because Grandma took me to the school playground across the alley from her house and taught me how to swing.

I am sure she knew of all the things I wished I could do, and she knew how to add this to the list of my accomplishments. She set me up in a swing and taught me how to use my body to pump the swing, instead of my legs. On the downhill side toward 60, she sat in the swing next to me and we swung.

Grandma Rose helped teach me how to live with cerebral palsy and appreciate my abilities, rather than dwell on my disabilities.

The last couple of weeks have been filled with sad times and good times filled with wonderful memories of a strong influence in my outlook on life. Grandma Rose’s life and death has reminded me of both the blessings and sorrows associated with living with CP.

I want to explain the conflicting emotions of living with cerebral palsy that have pressed upon my heart in the last couple of weeks. But, until tomorrow, I would like to leave you with a story I wrote about my grandmother years ago that explains a bit about her and the strength she had for living. I hope I have inherited just a bit.

On the heels of a devastating ten-year depression, World War II further marked an unprecedented period of American suffering and sacrifice. The exact cause of the Great Depression was debatable. Many blamed greater industrialization and businessmen reinvesting in the workplace and not the workforce. Still others pointed toward lack of consumer confidence or the drought. In all likelihood, the Great Depression was a culmination of several factors. Whatever the cause, Americans suffered and died simply wanting basic necessities of life.

When the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor and sent Americans a personal invitation to join World War II, war related jobs essentially ended the Great Depression. However, Americans faced the most dreadful war in world history. During this unimaginably turbulent period in history, Grandma Rose became a woman, a wife, and a mother,enduring the heart-wrenching consequences of war.

Rose entered womanhood during the depression. Growing up on a ranch in Northeast Wyoming with six brothers and sisters, Rose was already well acquainted with poverty. Ill-fitting shoes lasted a year and clothes were hand-me-downs or made from flour sacks. Although Rose never went hungry, waste was unthinkable. Thus, the depression seldom adversely affected Rose and her family.

Newspapers told of the Great Dustbowl and the shocking plight of people in Oklahoma. While empathizing with the hordes of homeless and unemployed elsewhere, life was status quo on the small ranch in Wyoming. With no money in the bank, America’s financial woes basically began on the other side of the ranch fences. Although the drought caused significant hardship, livestock and gardens sustained the large family.

Already accustomed to hardship, the depression actually brought Rose mixed blessings. Looking for work, her future husband became a member of the Civilian Conservation Corp. Similar to an Army enlistment, Alva became part of the group chosen to work in Wyoming. Although Alva was the camp cook, his company was stationed in Rose’s community for the purpose of extinguishing potential oil well fires. Eventually, when the group relocated, during the heart of the depression, Alva stayed behind and married Rose

Toward the end of the depression and the beginning of World War II, Rose was already the mother of three little girls. Despite the tough economic times, Alva and Rose managed to rent a house in town for twenty-five dollars a month. However, while the young family blossomed, the winds of war and separation began blowing stronger. Rose’s brother joined the Navy. Her sister Elsie bid farewell to her fiancé and his best friend.

Subsequently, Elsie relocated to Colorado, to help the war effort by working in a rubber plant. By this time, Americans received rationing stamps. Cheese, sugar, gas, and tires were among the rationed items. The war effort had first claim to the needed supplies. American women gladly worked in plants and rationed goods to help support the men attempting to keep the war from once again reaching American shores.

Rose and her small family had little trouble rationing supplies. While many people learned to travel sparingly and in groups, Rose and Alva did not have the luxury of an automobile. So, the tightly rationed tires and gasoline had no personal affect. When the other rationed items ran low, people just made do with supplies on hand.

The war remained on the other side of the ocean, until Rose received word of her brother’s ship, the USS Lexington, sinking during the battle at Coral Sea. Thankfully, despite spending some time in the cold seawater, Rose’s brother lived to become a career Navy man. Conversely, Elsie’s finance returned alone. His best friend gave his life for America’s freedom. By then, the unthinkable loss of American lives demanded more from the families back home.

At the age of thirty-five, Alva, his brothers-in-law, and several men in the community journeyed to the recruiting center in Colorado. Anticipating the inevitable draft letter, Alva and approximately twelve local men volunteered for armed service. Bob, Rose’s younger brother, was declared 4F due to high blood pressure. Her brother Boise was sent to Alaska as a machinist. Frighteningly, her husband and father of three, Alva was assigned to the heavy fighting in the Philippines. Thus, Rose began a life of single parenthood.

Facing the uncertainty of war and single parenthood, Rose accepted an offer to teach at a country school. Since many teachers supporting the war effort began working in the factories, the school district was short of qualified teachers. Having taught before, Rose accepted the challenge. Unfortunately, the job required Rose and her children to relocate. Part of Rose’s job was to ensure the warmth of the schoolroom before the students’ arrival. Subsequently, Rose sublet her home to her newlywed sister and moved her small family to an eight by ten foot tarpaper shack.

The shack was a simple wood frame covered in tarpaper. Double sized bunk beds were installed along one wall. Approximately 2 feet from the beds, a coal stove heated the room and cooked the meager foodstuffs. Without electricity, the one light consisted of an oil lamp setting on a tabletop lowered from the wall. Without refrigeration, meals consisted of canned goods. Rose’s children drank canned milk which she often used to make cocoa. Canned Spam and sardines were a good source of protein. After dinner, the three girls played in the small space left at the end of the bunks. At bedtime, Rose’s two oldest girls slept on the top bunk while Rose and the youngest slept on the bottom. In the morning, the four began the school day.

Slightly larger than the shack, the schoolroom sheltered 6 students and Rose. At the age of 4, Rose’s youngest was too little for school or self care. The solution created a very young first grader. For a semester, Rose and her girls lived a simpler life than Laura Ingalls Wilder’s Little House on the Prairie. For relief, Rose closed the shack on the weekends and took the girls to visit her parents. Rose looked forward to Saturdays when people went to see Gene Autry movies. During the week, entertainment might be watching the girls play with a farm made out of cardboard.

Meanwhile, while his girls played with a cardboard farm, Alva’s ship finally arrived in the Philippines. Fortunately for the sailors, peace was declared in route to the islands. Instead of fighting, Alva and his men began the cleanup process. Rose knew little of what the cleanup entailed. Her husband spoke little about the war. However, in the few letters that actually reached the states, Alva told Rose about the laundress who befriended him and his men. Although Rose eventually lost touch with the Philippine woman, she became a pen pal. The woman made gifts for each of her girls. Her daughter Grace received a garment woven from scratchy grass. Unbelievably, children in the Philippines probably wore similar clothing. Maybe Rose’s children learned much more than reading, writing, and arithmetic while at the little country school.

Anticipating her husband’s return, Rose gladly closed the door on the tarpaper shack a semester later. (Although the shack may not have housed a family of four in the future, the chickens probably enjoyed a new coup.) Essentially, she evicted her sister from the little house in town and prepared for Alva’s return. After eleven long months away from his girls, Alva was one of the blessed soldiers. Thankful, Rose knew many women who became single parents on a permanent basis.

Personally speaking, Rose, and women like her, are heroines in their own rite. Survivors of the depression exhibited unbelievable fortitude and ingenuity. After Pearl Harbor, military wives and civilians willingly suffered and sacrificed to keep the home fires burning while the men fought to keep American shores safe from further attacks. Many buried sons, brothers, and fathers. Americans today learned to take life for granted because of the sacrifices of the people living and dying during the war. In almost eighty-eight years of living, Rose learned never to take life for granted. Forever this author’s heroine, Grandma Rose simply said, “We just did what we had to do”.