I'm so proud of him...

My little friend, Andrew, is a celebrity this week in his local paper.

Well, actually, he's a celebrity wherever he goes.... He tends to make friends with whomever crosses his path!

Here is just one example...
One afternoon a few weeks ago, Andrew and I took a trip to the library. His mom thought it would be a good idea to find some books on tape, and to couple them with the actual books so that Andrew could follow along. Since she could find neither Andrew's library card, nor her own, she asked if I would mind asking for new ones while we were there.

Andrew and I arrived at the library in the family's handicap-accessible van, and bee-lined it for the juvenile fiction section, using a ramp to the lower level. We successfully chose two books on tape that I thought would be appropriate for his reading level and that he thought he would like to read. We picked up the book and the tape for Mary Poppins, but just the tape for Charlotte's Web, since he told me he had the book at home. I told him he should browse the shelves for a few minutes while I went back upstairs to check the books out, since it would be boring for him to wait at the desk with me while the librarian re-issued two library cards.

The new-library-card-process took much longer than I thought it would. I started to worry that Andrew might wonder whether I'd forgotten about him...or that he might knock something over trying to maneuver his power wheelchair through a narrow aisle. Since Andrew is easily distracted in new places, I was even concerned that he might accidentally run into someone while intently perusing the shelves. The protective side of me was also anxious that he would encounter other children who would stare at him but not talk to him, or worse, say something degrading to him. I did not want to leave him alone for too long. (I should have known not to underestimate Andrew's suave and charm!)
Fortunately, the check-out desk at the library was on a balcony, so I could walk a few feet and glance down at him every once in a while. Hoping the librarian did not think I was rude or trying to rush her, I paced back and forth between the desk and the balcony's view several times during the course of the new-library-card-process.

Finally, I hurried down the stairs to the lower level, and met up with Andrew driving his chair out from between some of the bookshelves. Behind him was a boy of approximately his own age, carrying three books under his right arm, and one book in his left hand, which he offered to me.
"Here you go," the boy said, and Andrew continued for him, "I would also like to get this one out, please," (then turning his head to the boy who was now next to him), "Thank you for helping me."
"You're welcome," the boy said softly, as he turned to walk away.
"That was so nice of you; thank you," I commended the boy, impressed with his matter-of-fact attitude about coming to Andrew's aid.

Next on the agenda was homework.
"Andrew," I explained, "we can do your math homework here, but we need to find a table big enough for your chair." We both looked around doubtfully at all the low round tables scattered throughout the juvenile section.

"Excuse me, sir!" Andrew said out loud, before I realized there was another young boy approaching our spot in front of the shelves.
"Yes?" the boy looked at Andrew and then at me, a little doubtfully--a reaction, probably not only to Andrew's obvious physical disability, but also to Andrew's use of the word "sir" in addressing him!
"Could you tell me where we might find a table big enough for my chair, so that I can do my homework?" Andrew asked innocently.
The boy shifted his weight from one leg to the other, apparently thinking seriously about his answer. "Well," he responded with some authority, "you might be able to find some tables on the other side down here..." (at this point, it took too much energy for Andrew to keep his head up and turned in the boy's direction, so he slowly let his chin drop to his chest).
The boy then directed the rest of his answer to me: "If not, I guess he might be able to use one of the study tables upstairs."
"Thank you very much," Andrew graciously replied, lifting his head a little bit.
"You're welcome," the boy said amiably, and continued on.

I led Andrew over to the tables in the periodical section, where the boy had pointed, marveling at his social magnetism. These kids aren't cruel to him; he's so polite, so unassuming, so vulnerable.... Somehow, they sense the goodness in him.

And he becomes a celebrity.