Giving Thanks at Roy Rogers

Related: Parents, More TagsAdults with learning disabilities, Related Conditions, Mental Health, Fewer Tags

by Merely Me
Monday, November 16, 2009

Many years ago before I chose to stay home with my two boys who are now teenagers, I worked at a developmental day program for people who had multiple disabilities.  One of my favorite clients was a little guy named Joe.  Joe was no taller than myself (I am all of five foot two) with a spritely spring to his step.  Joe was older in years with a few gray hairs sprouting from his head.  Joe had been in the day program for decades, longer then, than I had been alive.

Joe was a fast talker. His words tumbled out of his mouth faster than his tongue would allow.  His eyes would dart nervously past you as he made attempts at conversation. "Hi, how you doin?" he would say before making a request, usually for a snack.

Joe lived with his sister who took him in after his parents died.  They lived together in the poor section of town, living on both welfare and Joe's disability checks.

At the time I was Joe's instructor, I was at a point of great dissatisfaction with my job.  I felt there was no room to grow in my career. In addition, I was feeling the beginnings of burn out.  I was also suffering from depression.  The holiday season didn't help things.  I had a miscarriage and the baby would have been due that November.  I looked to Thanksgiving with dread.  But Joe was excited about Thanksgiving and talked non-stop about it.  I tried to take in some of his excitement but felt incapable.

Part of my job was to do community training.  We would take our folks out into the community, make some small purchases and/or dine at small fast food restaurants. Just about every day I would make a trek to Roy Roger's restaurant during lunch, which was located in the basement of a nearby university building.

I personally hated Roy Roger's restaurant.  I hated the smell.  I hated the food.  I hated that it was located in a windowless basement (our day program was also located in a basement of a church).  Roy Rogers was fast becoming a greasy smelling symbol of my personal resentment of a job where I worked and ate in basements all day. 

There were certain clients I took to Roy Rogers because they had a specific goal for making purchases in the community.  I also took the folk who brought money to go out for lunch.  I seldom took Joe because he never had money and he always brought a packed lunch. 

One day close to Thanksgiving, I decided to treat Joe to lunch at Roy Rogers.

Joe was delighted.  I never had another client who loved food more than Joe did.  There was no food that I knew of that he did not like.  He was known to steal from other people's lunches to get more to eat.  He was a skinny little thing so I don't know where it all went.  I suspect he didn't get too much to eat at home. 

So off we went to Roy Rogers and he and I walked silently towards our destination.  I was into my head, not really thinking a whole lot about the person walking beside me.