Vile and Dispicable People Refer to Cody as:
SPAZMO the GREAT!
Such Cruel People are Afraid of Cody
Fifteen years ago Cody's mom would walk around the neighborhood with Cody, first in a baby buggy, then later in a stroller. I would visit with her a little while on the times she passed by my hovel.
Cody was a handsome baby. He is a remarkably handsome teenager now.
After a few years Cody's mom wouldn't be seen walking Cody in the evenings. A few months passed and we knew why she had stopped her evening consitutional with Cody. Cody was ill. He had difficulty walking and his body moved involuntarily. None of us knew if it was Parkinson's disease or something else. Cody's mother was too busy taking care of Cody to spend time visiting neighbors and sharing her own fears and trials.
One thing we all knew though, was that Cody's mom moved heaven and earth for him. Ensuring he was safe and got as much medical attention she could afford from hard scratch living.
Cody's mother was a normal New Mexican. Proud, hard working, independent. She neither asked for, nor accepted help from any of us. She knew we had her back, but she did life her way.
She is dead now. Worked herself to an early grave trying to give a future to Cody. Cody now lives with his aunt and wanders the area looking for acceptance and a future for himself.
Over the years many of the kids living in this area contented themselves with listening to Walkman tape players and perfecting their skateboarding. Social gadabouts without a care in the world.
I still hear the clack-a-clack-a-clack of kids on skateboards after all these years. Even far into the evening. Personally, I found skateboarding kids to be a small nuisance, but I did have to admire the graceful tricks they could do with those boards on wheels.
Actually, having the ambulance come flying down the road a few times a year to haul some kid who zigged, when they should have zagged, to take to the hospital for the proverbial arm or leg cast that is part of growing up, livened up many a boring summer day.
Now, I've watched Cody for a long time. He had the three-wheeled tricycle we all have had in our youth. He would mainly go around in circles or his jerking was so profound around he hit everything. Some things stationary and some things moving. By the time he was 10 or so, he had a fancy scooter made of aluminum. It was painful to watch him try to make it work. Even more painful to see his knees and elbows keeping the Johnson & Johnson bandaid production line humming.
Like Rooster Cogburn, Cody does have True Grit.
Cody never quit trying to be like the other kids, even if they laughed at him and wouldn't include him in their play. Cody was a loner by default. Not by choice. Kids can be even more cruel than most adults. Every time I saw Cody and the other kids, I thought of the Rudolph the Rednosed Raindeer story. My heart always ached for Cody and his personal plight.
But, I am very old. Set in my ways. I've learned what isn't taught outright, except by living. Although I felt sorry for Cody, I knew that we all come into this world with baggage we bring with us, baggage we have heaped upon us after we get here and everybody has to do with what is handed them, regardless. It is the way of things.
About a year ago I noticed Cody sitting in front of my hovel. His body moving like a fezzic woodpecker and a big puppy dog frown on his face. So, I wandered out to sit beside him. I even brought a pitcher of ice cold lemonade with me and a roll of paper towels.
Cody has difficulty keeping a glass still and I knew that half the pitcher would be all over him, me and the road before long. I didn't mind. Never have. What was important was having a visit with Cody and watching him enjoy the cold lemonade. Nothing better in life than the small treats.
"What's up, Cody?" I said, while pouring us each a glass of the summer gold and listening to the ice tinkle into the glasses.
"Aunt May won't let me have a skateboard," he fumed.
"That so?" I said.
"Whinny (that's what he calls me), she says they are too dangerous for me and I would get laughed at trying to use one," he sputtered.
"That so?" I said.
"Yep. I ain't graceful, that's for sure, but my scooter is a little kids toy," he said with a really big frown on his face and picking at his newest bandaid.
I looked at him closely. His arms were flying around and his legs were walking in air. He was really upset.
"Yeah, I agree that you are way past using a scooter, Cody," I said. "If you want, I could go talk to her and see what I could do for you."
"Oh, thank you, Whinny!" he blurted out excitedly. He bopped me a couple of times with his arm trying to give me a hug. He apologized and I said, "No problemo, Cody."
He took off a meandering like the wind and all smiles. I went into the house to take a shower from all the lemonade spilled on me and get a cold compress for my eye that was obviously going to bruise. I decided I would go talk to May later that evening.
Following evening chow down, I went to see Cody's aunt. We had a really nice visit and I found out that her excuse to Cody wasn't her fear of him getting hurt, but she just couldn't afford to get him a skateboard and all the safety equipment to go with it. She was pinching pennies so hard old Abe's eyes were popping out, according to her. I believed her. Everyone was doing the same.
I told her that I understood her problem. Hell, things are getting so bad, getting to go to a movie that used to be monthly outing, is now a yearly journey for many in my neck of the woods. People are working harder, if they do have a job and certainly getting a lot less for their efforts. Tis a fact and an absolute.
For several days I mulled over the problem. It finally dawned on me on how to solve Cody's problem. I made my plans.
A few evening later I heard the multiple clack-a-clack-a-clack's of a group of young people terrorizing the sidewalk coming closer to my hovel. I sprang into action and out the door I went. The screen door banging behind me.
I stood on the sidewalk as the kids came toward me, and standing like Moses with my walking stick I shouted, "You young critters hold it right there!"
They came to an immediate stop. Scared looks came over their faces. I looked them all in the eye individually and using my walking stick motioned for them to go sit on the porch. They followed me like puppy dogs behind a string of hotdogs.
Once they were all on the porch I passed out the summer gold. I explained that I had been watching them for years ignoring Cody and told them how ashamed I was of them behaving that way. Reminding each of them of secrets I knew about their own problems they didn't want anyone to know, I asked them for a favor.
The next day, as the sun peeked over the mountain, all four of the boys came. Each with one of their old skateboards and safety equipment. I thanked them very kindly and told them how proud I was of them being mighty fine New Mexicans. They all left with a fresh loaf of pumpkin bread I had baked earlier.
It took my friend Chuy all week, but he had those used skateboards repainted and sporting new wheels. He had cleaned up the safety equipment and helmets too. I didn't know you could bring back a shine to some plastics by dipping it in acetone, but everything looked great when Chuy finished working his magic!
When May and I gave Cody his new skateboards, knee and elbow pads, plus his shiny new helmet, to say he was thrilled would be the understatement of history. Later, two of the young boys came over to Cody's house and spent the rest of the day giving him pointers.
Well, it has been a month now and in the evenings I hear the clack-a-clack-a-clack of skateboards coming down the sidewalk. Of course one of those clack-a-clack-a-clack's is more of a clack-a-clack-wham, clack-a-clack-kaboom, but Cody don't mind. His new friends wait for him to catch up.
So goes living in the high desert of New Mexico. It's always something.