My brother was born with Rubella Syndrome; deaf, blind, developmentally delayed and with a large, open cleft palate, the effect of my pregnant mom coming into contact with someone who had German Measles. (Note to parents who are anti-vaccination.) The time after she brought him home as a newborn was a dark time in my young life.

She cried all of the time, my brother kitty squeaked all the time, (hardly a cry, just a heartbreaking, sad peep.) She had to feed him with an eyedropper and as much formula spilled out the side of his open palate as it did go down his throat. It was a confusing and sad time for me.

One morning, sitting in her rocking chair holding my incessantly crying brother, she stopped sobbing, and her face softened, as though her sadness was replaced by peace. Many years later, when I was old enough to understand, she explained that she had been visited by a loving Spiritual Presence on that day who seemed to envelope her with a joy for life and remove her sadness. He/she reassured her that everything would be alright and there was no need to worry. From that day on she didn't. Ever. Again.

The mom I grew up with was loving, kind, and always saw the silver lining. When Curtis had to be hospitalized once again, she would give me a wink, which meant we would be sneaking off to the hospital cafeteria for tapioca. When we had to wait for hours in doctor's offices, we would play Gin Rummy where I invariably won. She never seemed to worry about anything or find anything to be negative, so my childhood was peaceful amidst what others might view as a tragedy.

It should come as no surprise that I grew up with similar feelings, which came naturally. For some odd reason, nothing worries me. When my oldest son, Francis, was born blind, my feeling was how LUCKY I was that he wasn't also deaf and developmentally delayed like my brother. I never worried about Francis, and knew, as I have known with my subsequent children, that there was nothing to worry about, even though their problems would probably have sent most parents running for the hills! Worry was only wasted time looking at how terrible something was rather than looking at the possibilities that existed.

This attribute has served me well in life; any problem would just be a new challenge to be overcome. When we were on a group bus trip to Six Flags several years ago, my daughter, Marie, thought she saw one of her abusers among the crowd of thousands. She had a flashback, ran at lightning speed and started to crawl up the side of the Ferris Wheel in a PTSD frenzy. She was wild eyed and incoherent. I coaxed her down into a waiting ambulance by waving a large ice cream cone in the air.

She was still fighting her memory and had to be placed in restraints, but was sedated at the hospital and shortly was well again. My only problem, which I still laugh at today, is the fact that we were in our bathing suits from the water park and our bus back to Providence had left eight hours earlier.

Of course there were no stores open that late within walking distance from the hospital so additional clothing or a blanket or two were unable to be purchased. So, sitting on the midnight bus back to Providence, we huddled together, shivering, in our bathing suits, but generally none the worse for our adventure.

An article about me in the newspaper about a year ago indicated I take everything about my children's childhood abuse and mental health disabilities with a grain of salt, to think about it seriously would make me want to vomit. Such is the reason I don't worry. (Who likes to vomit?) There is no advantage to worrying, the time spent doing so would be wasted, and I wouldn't be any good to anyone. Like my mom, I prefer to look on the bright side. When Marie saw that man, she could have easily run into the crowd with her quick, lithe, teenage legs and would be no match for my "middle age", chunky legs. When crawling

up the Ferris Wheel, she could have fallen off and been killed. But she didn't. She came down, she was safe, and we have an interesting tale to tell. See? Nothing to worry about! Life is a just a roller

coaster of adventure! So ups, some downs and unpredictable in between.

One of my favorite childhood characters was Alfred E. Newman from MAD Magazine. In his immortal words, "What? Me worry?" Nope, not me