A Love Letter to Cheyenne, Wyoming

A Love Letter to Cheyenne, Wyoming

Dear Cheyenne,

I am writing to say thank you for taking good care of my big brother, Rex Spencer. Before coming to you, Rex had a hard life. He struggled with developmental delays that kept him functioning on a 3^rd grade level. Childhood was brutal, he was abused and neglected in both our foster home and adopted home. He had been on and off homeless, trying to find his way in a world that made no sense to him. He came to you the same way others do, hitch-hiking into town from I-80.

When Rex arrived at your city limits, he was directed to the local homeless shelter. That’s where for the first time in his 28 years, he found people who knew how to help him. He was sent to a lawyer who assisted him in finishing his application for Social Security disability benefits, something impossible for him to do on his own because he couldn’t read or write well enough to fill out the paperwork. Rex was assigned a state case manager and over time, got a clean, safe apartment.  His case manager was named Scott. Since Rex didn’t drive, Scott took him shopping at the grocery store and encouraged him to buy nutritious food, not just potato chips and hot dogs. Scott help Rex pay his bills and enrolled him in life classes at the community college.

The next order of business for Rex was to attend church. He was raised Mormon and he wanted to stay active in that faith, even though it hadn’t always been the most welcoming of places for him. He found his local congregation and once again, he discovered a community of people willing to help him. They encircled him with friendship and gave him assignments that made him feel fully included.

Rex served at his church and at his low-income apartment complex. He delighted in carrying his elderly neighbor’s groceries and trash at Shoshoni Manor Apartments. Between his apartment building, his church and the locals he befriended on the street, Rex created a community that he loved.

Not everything was perfect in Cheyenne for Rex. Like all real life relationships, some days were difficult. Rex was almost killed by two men in a random act of violence. After three days in the intensive care unit at Cheyenne Regional Medical Center, Rex was able to give the police a description of who tried to cave in his head with a stolen cement lawn statue. The Cheyenne police found the perpetrators and they confessed their crime against my brother. They said they were planning to rob a pizza delivery man, but they couldn’t find one, so they settled on Rex.  He was left with permanent damage to his hearing and vision from the assault.

After five happy years living in Cheyenne, Rex was diagnosed with a terminal brain tumor. He moved with me and my family to Colorado. He didn’t want to leave you. He begged to stay in his apartment because he was worried about not being there to help his neighbors. We reassured him that everyone would be taken care of. In the end, my husband and I had to agree to keep his apartment in case he was needed back at his home.

When his final decisions had to be made, Rex requested to be buried in Cheyenne. He wanted to be at home. Thank you for making his years in your midst the best he ever had. He loved you very much and I will always be grateful to you for your kindness and compassion for my brother. He was lucky to have you as his family.

Sincerely,

Heather Young

50th Wedding Anniversary Countdown

My mother Claudia, told me she wrote her mother, Lennis, an eight page, single-spaced letter. I was happy because if Lennis doesn't get a letter from Claudia for a while, she calls me to find out if Claudia or Ralph have died. It is perfectly logical when you are in your 90's, to assume your 69 year-old daughter is dead if you haven't heard from her, right?

I asked Claudia what she wrote about that took eight pages, single-spaced. She told me she wrote about the 50th wedding anniversary party that she recently attended telepathically on her home planet, La Mordia. It was a party worthy of royalty, which of course, we are on La Mordia. That is why it took 8 pages, single-spaced to describe the activities and gifts that were given to celebrate our relatives 50th wedding anniversary.

Since Lennis isn't Claudia's real mother, who lives on La Mordia,  but merely her earthly foster-type mother, a place holder until we all return to our royal places at our true home, she ought to really enjoy getting that letter.

When Claudia was diagnosed with schizophrenia as a teenager and then legally changed her name from Janet to Claudia, my grandma Lennis began to fight an uphill battle. She has tried for over 60 years to get Claudia to answer to her birth name, Janet. She refuses to accept that her daughter Janet will not be coming back to her. My conversations with Lennis over the years have been heartbreaking at times, listening to her struggle with a reality she doesn't want. Mental illness doesn't just affect the person afflicted with it, it also changes the lives of everyone else around the person.

Most of the time, it is hysterically funny in a dark, pitch-black humor sort of way. Like this 50th wedding anniversary party. Ralph and Claudia will be celebrating their 50th wedding anniversary this coming July. For an average couple, the 50th is a big deal. For my unusual parents, this is an over-the-top event that Claudia is dreaming big about.

The first time Claudia told me about her telepathic visit to La Mordia for the anniversary party, she rambled off a list of wedding gifts that would put an episode of the game show "The Price is Right" to shame. Appliances! Trips! Fancy clothes! Cars! and best of all, delivered in a reverential hush, was the last and biggest gift of all: matching Hovercrafts. I asked, "Hovercrafts? Are those even for real? I don't know that those even exist."
Claudia sighed and said, "Yes, on La Mordia everyone has them. They drive them on the road, fly them in the air, and ride them like a boat on water."
"Huh.Who would have guessed. Of course, we all know La Mordia is a much more advanced planet than earth," I replied, wondering what kind of wedding anniversary party Claudia is expecting I am going to pay for. I was thinking more along the lines of crepe paper streamers in their nursing home dining hall and a cake, not matching Hovercrafts.

After a long discussion about the earthly impracticality of imaginary matching, fully-functioning Hovercrafts, including the fact Ralph and Claudia no longer drive and that the nursing home has no covered parking for Hovercrafts, Claudia was content with letting that idea go.

We only have 4 months left before their 50th anniversary. Heaven help me.

Let's Talk!

I did a podcast (radio) interview about Ezra and Hadassah: A Portrait of American Royalty on the site The Cultural Hall.

  http://www.theculturalhallpodcast.com/2014/04/heather-young-ep-124-the-cultural-hall/.

It is a Mormon-centered radio show, so the conversation might seem confusing to someone who is not familiar with the Mormon faith. On the other hand, God is God and love is love, no matter which particular version you follow.

Check it out, you will find it an interesting listen.

Everyone Should Have a Mr. Gross

Mr. Gross- Librarian at  Desert Sands Jr. High 1980

Mr Gross, Heather, Rob and Carol at wedding reception - 1987

Were you lucky enough to have a special teacher, neighbor, grandparent, or trusted adult you could turn to when you were young? My person was Mr. Gross. He was the librarian at my jr. high school. I didn't go to the library to read books, although he had plenty of those. I went to talk with him. He was the encouraging adult who took my problems seriously and listened while I prattled on about nothing. I wasn't the only kid he made feel important. He had a passel of kids who surrounded his cluttered desk, ready to talk about whatever the hot topic of the day was. 

He was not only my person for the one school year I attended Desert Sands Jr. High, he stayed my person all through high school. I called him from the high school pay phones on my lunch hour and I occasionally skipped my lunch period altogether to walk the mile to the jr. high to visit for 20 minutes before I had to turn around and walk back to the high school. 

When you are lucky enough to find an adult who is willing to listen, counsel and be your cheerleader, it is hard to let them go. So I didn't. He was there on my wedding day, he sent me congratulation cards when I had my babies. He cried when I called him long-distance, homesick and hurting. I kept Mr. Gross in my circle of Important People. 

 He and his wife Carol are still there, even as many other people have come and gone over the years. I won't tell you his age, but I can tell you he was my current age when he met me as a miserable teenager looking for an adult who cared. 

He has long retired from his beloved library and is dealing with the physical frailties of life. It makes me sad to think that someday I won't be able to pick the phone and hear his cheerful voice or read an encouraging email from him. No one writes better emails than Mr. Gross. 

He is still my biggest fan and I still adore his every word.  I pray all of us will have a Mr. Gross in our life and more importantly, that we will find the kid who needs us to be their person. I am so, so blessed Mr. Gross was mine.