The truth is scarier than fiction. Here”s a story I thought I would share for Halloween. It begins as an innocent and lovely tale.
More than a decade ago I loaded 11 children up and took them to Book Family Farm on the outskirts of Chico.
I almost said “no” to the last child for lack of space. He would have understood as he was the oldest. His younger sisters, identical twins, Ivory and Jenny, were already seatbelted in together. He could have had the house to himself, some quiet time while the busy girls were gone.
He stood on the lumpy, dirt road and begged, “Can I please go Mandy?” There was a pleading in his eyes, as if it were his last opportunity to enjoy the juvenile delights of the season. He was nearly 6 feet tall at 10 years old. I still remember his smile, his wide green eyes and brown curls that bounced in the October breeze as he ran to join us.
It was a crisp, cool and sunny day filled with hot apple cider, games and an abundance of harvest activities. All of us were windblown, laughing, and in the end, exhausted when we loaded the pumpkins and ourselves back into the vehicle. Eddie was covered in pumpkins. The younger girls bossed him around as he good-naturedly shrugged and smiled.
The sunset was the color of the acres of pumpkins at the farm on a swirling purple backdrop. We laughed as we sang “Iko-iko” all the way back to Paradise.
Last week I was reflecting on the bittersweet day with Eddie. He”s 22 now. He told me that day was one of his best childhood memories. Eddie will never see another pumpkin.
This year he was shot in the face, at close range, by a former high school classmate. He lost both of his eyes. Fortunately he didn”t lose his life, it was close. I have known Eddie as a sweet and patient child. He was always big for his age and looked much older than his peers.
He was a gentle giant. Of the neighborhood children, he was the only one who willingly played the “Pretty, Pretty Princess” board game with my daughter Miranda. He was 12 years old and on the football team then, and she was in kindergarten. He laughed when she covered him with pink jewelry and topped it off with a sparkly tiara. He exemplified the meaning of a “good sport.”
Miranda called me to tell me when he was shot. He was transported to U.C. Davis where he remained for about two weeks.
The man who shot him was someone whom he brought into his home, an acquaintance from high school who needed a place to stay.
Eddie may have been his only friend; he was a troubled young man. After many surgeries, months of excruciating headaches and learning to live blind — Eddie”s character remains intact and incredible.
I was glad he didn”t see me cry when he returned home. My oldest daughter Nicole stood between he and I as white as a ghost, her eyes brimming with tears. He looked as though he”d been through a war. His head felt like it might explode, he said.
We brought trinkets for relief, soft tissues for the oozing sockets where his eyes used to be and ice cream drumsticks, because he said his head felt hot all the time. He joked with Nicole about being short as he hugged her, to put her at ease. Soon we returned from sorrow to the gratefulness that we were in the same room with him again.
He taught himself to play bass guitar, he kayaks on Paradise Lake, works out and he”s learning some martial arts – Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu.
Soon he”ll attend a school to learn Braille. The man who shot him faces 20 years to life in prison. In the face of adversity, Eddie reminds me daily what it means to be strong.
I am glad I have that memory to share with Eddie of Halloween. In hindsight, I”m glad I made room for him in my vehicle and in my life.
No costume needed this year Eddie – you”re a superhero.
Mandy Feder is assistant managing editor/night desk for the Record-Bee. She can be reached at mandyfeder@yahoo.com or 263-5636 ext. 32. Opinions are those of the individual writers and do not necessarily reflect the views of the Lake County Record-Bee or its management.
