That characterization is probably not accurate as I was only ten, and have absolutely no memory of any exchanges with him. To me he was just another adult of whom I paid no attention, and he reciprocated with equal disregard of my nonexistence.
Mrs. Stock, a giant of a woman, tall, big boned and broad of beam, wore dresses that hiked up in the back as the material was insufficient to cover her wide rump. Her hair, frequently disheveled as she busily tended to chores, was forever sliding back over her temples shortly after hurried attempts at managing it. She was always friendly and projected a positive, but not exuberant, attitude.
The first time we met Gary Stock he lay in a hospital bed sitting along the back wall of their living room. He survived polio, and had recently been released from a hospital in Indianapolis. He existed in an iron lung for over a year - a big cylinder in which only his head stuck out the front end and billows pumped at the other. The change in pressure within the cylinder forced his chest to expand and contract, pulling air into and out of his lungs, thus helping him to breath.
Polio, also known as Infantile Paralysis, had been a scourge since the 1930’s and reached epidemic proportions in the early 1950’s. There was near panic in the country and The March of Dimes became the first popular fund raising program to fight disease on a national level. Everyone could afford a dime; and millions of them were sent to President Roosevelt after the organization started in 1938.
Gary was sixteen, four years Don’s senior. I remember his chest was flattened on one side from having laid in the same position too long. Scar tissue at the base of his throat marked the location where tubes had been inserted. His body looked like that of a prisoner just released from a concentration camp. Gary’s legs, thin stalks, with atrophied muscles, condemned him to walk in leg braces and use crutches the rest of his life. We did not know him before he was afflicted, but were told he had been a good student and very athletic. We met him just as a semblance of normal life was returning.Arlene Stock was Don’s age. She played some games with us, but mainly we hung out with Gary and his younger brother. Gilbert, a few months my junior, and Gary became our frequent companions over the next few years, and as Gary got stronger, our games became more active. We played marathon sessions of Monopoly, some in the house, most in their grassy front yard under a big maple tree. We changed rules as we pleased, usually to expedite the game. The “banker” often shuffled and dealt the deeds out at the beginning rather that us waiting to land on property before being eligible to purchase it.
Many a summer evening found us running to hide as the one who was “It” stood with foot on top of a tin can counting to fifty. “Here I come, ready or not” was the refrain after “It” finished the count. “Kick the Can” was one of our favor games. Gary teamed up with a partner, usually Don, and the two “ran to hide” with the rest of us. If and when “It” found the pair‘s hiding place, “It” had to outrun Don, which was nearly impossible. “It” had to run to the can, put his foot on it, and recite the following, “One, two, three, I spy Don and Gary at (name the hiding place). If Don was able to kick the can from under “Its” foot before “It” finished the declaration - then all previously “captured” participants were free to scurry off and hide again. Sometimes poor “It” was “It” all night.
I look back over the sixty years that separate us and realize Gary possessed a toughness of spirit that was not apparent back then. He participated in all our activities, and never asked or expected quarter no matter what the event. We played basketball and football, and sometimes wrestled. Gary asked no quarter, got none, and gave none. His arms and hands grew strong in compensation for crippled legs. If he got one of us in his grip, it was similar to having a snapping turtle grab hold of an arm or leg - not to let go. The poor victim flopped about like a snagged fish.
Epilog:
Mr. and Mrs. Stock lived to ripe old age in their home. Arlene took care of them during many of those years. I believe she began working at the Union Bank shortly after graduating from high school. She worked there for many years, until retirement. I was passing the bank one day and decided to stop in to say hello. That was maybe in the eighties, during a trip home to see Mom and Dad.
I hadn’t seen Mr. and Mrs. Stock for many years, and Arlene encouraged me to stop by the house to say hello, that they would be tickled to see me. I intended to do just that, after all, they lived only two houses from Mom and Dad. But my visit was a whirlwind, as usual, and I got sidetracked, and never made it. Edith Stock died in1992 @ 90, and Harry passed in 1993 @ 94 years. Arlene still lived in the house in 1996 when Mom moved. I expect she is still there.
Gilbert and I often played together during the first years, but attended different schools, and eventually drifted apart after entering high school. Gib had trouble in school at the time I was improving, and fell behind, graduating a year after me. The thing I most remember about him was that he was shorter than me by several inches, and thus contended at a disadvantage in our ball games.
I went off to college, Gib enlisted in the service. Close to ten years elapsed before we met again, I was in the front yard, and heard someone call my name. A tall fellow came lumbering across the yard that separated our two homes. A new house had been built where the old orchard once stood. The guy was real tall - six feet five. The neighbor runt had grown to be a giant. We spoke for a few minutes, caught up on each other’s life and then parted again. Gilbert moved out west somewhere, maybe Colorado. That was the last time I ever saw him.
Gary was our frequent companion for three or four years through the early part of 1950’s, but gradually went his own way. I think he might have been a member of the class of 1952, and would have graduated with them had polio not intervened. I don’t know whether he ever went back to Kokomo High School.
Gary bought a car equipped to operate the gas and brake pedals by hand. He completed training to become a draftsman, got a position and moved to Indianapolis. Don and I went to Indianapolis to play a game of wheelchair basketball while we were in high school. That may have been one of the last times I saw him. I heard he got married, but don’t know if he had any children. Gary died in 2006. He lived to be 72 years old.
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