Shorty

I always considered Shorty to be my dad's friend. I don't know if Dad knew him before he came to stay at the Hotel Mary-Etta, where my family lived, or if they became acquainted because Shorty returned once or twice a year, staying for a few weeks each time. Anyway, Dad enjoyed spending time with him, and we all grew accustomed to seeing Shorty around, especially in the summer, when it was easier for him to travel from place to place.

Shorty wasn't his given name, of course, but that's what everyone called him, probably at his request. He undoubtedly signed his legal name on the hotel register when he checked in, but I didn't know what it was. As a child, it seemed logical for me to call him Shorty because he was, well, short.

You see, Shorty was a double amputee who walked on his well-padded stumps. He may have been injured in a railroad accident, or perhaps his disability came about in World War II. Whatever the cause, both legs had been removed just above his knees. Unfortunately, prosthetics were not especially well-made at that time, and they were not engineered to fit precisely, as they are now since the advent of computer-assisted technology. Consequently, in the mid-twentieth century, prosthetics were awkward and painful to use. And, because Shorty was missing both legs, it might not have been physically possible (or affordable) for him to use two prosthetics at once.

It wasn't uncommon for a veteran to use one artificial leg, covered with his full-length pants in hopes that no one would notice he was missing a leg, but most of the men (and they were almost always men) limped, or even lurched, when they walked, or moved without bending a knee, so their limb differences were usually more noticeable than they might have liked. 

In recent years, I have known a couple of people with two highly visible artificial legs who get around extremely well. I am sure that their lives are far from easy, but twenty-first century technology has certainly improved the quality of life for people who have lost their legs. I am sure that Shorty would have been in awe of such technology that could have made his life so much better.

In the years before the Americans with Disabilities Act (ADA) became law, people with obvious disabilities were not often hired to do conventional jobs. Shorty may have drawn a small pension of some kind, but he supplemented whatever little income he had by selling pencils. If you lived in Fairbury in the 1960s, you would have recognized him, sitting on the sidewalk, leaning against the MacDonalds building--a department store, not the current fast food chain--selling yellow, Number 2 pencils. He couldn't have made much money selling those pencils for a few pennies apiece, but I suppose some generous folks gave him a little extra.

After two or three weeks, Shorty would move on, maybe by bus or train if he couldn't hitch a ride with some acquaintance, to another town where he could spend a few days selling pencils. 

I hope he liked meeting new people and seeing new sights. I hope the people he met were kind. And, I hope Shorty sold plenty of pencils.

Don’t be selfish; don’t try to impress others. Be humble, thinking of others as better than yourselves. Don’t look out only for your own interests, but take an interest in others, too. You must have the same attitude that Christ Jesus had... 

Philippians 2:3-5