By: Marlene Oxender
Montpelier, Ohio
Years ago my brother Stevie, who had Down syndrome, spent a holiday weekend with us at my daughter’s house.
After lunch, those seated at the dining room table were welcome to play a word game that Stevie had obviously made up.
He stood at the head of the table so he could be in charge. He would point at one of us and ask what letter was in the word he was thinking of. He would give us a quick “yes” or “no” before he moved on to the next person.
As you can imagine, we were laughing. There were moments when we became loud and rowdy, but he kept his composure.
It was his version of the Wheel of Fortune game, and he was the host. We had to remember what letters were in his imaginary words, for he was not writing them down for us.
One of the ladies blurted out, “Independence Day” as her answer, and Stevie let her know she was correct. The laughter he’d brought to the table was the only prize needed.
Years ago, Stevie received an award for his abilities with sign language – a subject in which he was proficient. The cover photo on the book I wrote about him is an image of him making the love sign with his hand during a basketball game. The photographer, Glyn Buntain, caught that moment in time for the rest of us.
Love is an easy word to spell but not so easy to define. The complicated part is how love can be found in everything – our thoughts and our words. Our actions.
When Stevie was out and about on his bicycle, and a semi-truck was rolling through town, he used sign language to tell the driver he’d like to hear the truck horn. And the world always responded in the kindest of ways. Life doesn’t get much better than that.
As Glyn once wrote on Stevie’s Facebook page: “Dear God, in this new year, put Stevie’s heart of joy and pure love in each one of us.“
Stevie’s love for life and the things of this earth was inspiring. He knew the value of his trophies and ribbons. He perfected his singing voice from the steps of his front porch while waiting for his ride to work each morning.
He traveled on his bicycle to ballgames and spent time at restaurants where he could be with others.
When Stevie signed a greeting card, he wrote the word “Love” in front of his name. Such a simple thing – a little ink and a few letters lined up just right.
I’m still playing word games with Stevie – long after he passed away. I’m learning to connect the dots and speak this language that’s been here all along – I just needed to be aware of it.
Stevie’s life showed us, in part, that we are here to enjoy the things of this earth. We’re here to play games – even through the loudness and rowdiness.
Even when our friends can’t spell the imaginary words we’ve made up. We’re here to live with “a heart of joy and pure love” for one another.
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Marlene Oxender is a writer, speaker, and author. She writes about growing up in the small town of Edgerton, her ten siblings, the memorabilia in her parents’ estate, and her late younger brother, Stevie Kimpel, who was born with Down syndrome. Her three published books, Picket Fences, Stevie, and “Grandma, You Already Am Old!” are available on Amazon. Marlene can be reached at mpoxender@gmail.com
