A Story From the Life of Susan O. Ghostwritten by Faith S.

Photo courtesy of Cecil F.

A Story From the Life of Susan O.

Ghostwritten by Faith S.

Polio

Everyone has big plans on how to spend their summers. In 1952, the summer after fifth grade, I planned on going to Girl Scout camp with some of my friends and play with them while school was out. What I didn’t plan on happening was being quarantined for three weeks after I came home to Towson, Maryland from camp. My friend Marilyn returned from camp and became very sick. It turned out that she had polio. Because I was with her at camp, I could develop polio too and so I had to stay inside or in our yard with only my immediate family. I was concerned and scared for her because there was no cure for polio. I was scared for myself because what if I got polio?

“Come here, Susan, so I can take your temperature,” my mother said sweetly.

I waited impatiently as she took my temperature with a thermometer like she did everyday during the quarantine. After a minute or two, she took the thermometer out of my mouth and held it up to the light to read what it said my temperature was. I watched her face, searching for any indication that I had a fever.

My mother smiled down at me, “Good news, your temperature is normal so you don’t have a fever.”

“May Dorothy and I play outside today?” I asked my mother immediately afterwards.

“Yes, but be sure to stay in the yard.”

My six-year-old sister and I carried our paper dolls with us to the front yard. We sat down on the green grass in the shade of one of the many Osage orange trees. After carefully cutting the paper dolls out of our new book, we pretended that they were on their way to the movie theater. I wished I could have been playing with my friends instead of my little sister. Instead, I was stuck at home with only Dorothy for company. This was not how I wanted to spend three weeks of my summer.

When it was getting close to dinnertime, my mother called us back inside.

“Susan! Dorothy! Come wash up before your father comes home,” she called from the house.

We went back inside and each of us took a bath before putting on a cotton sundress for dinner. Walking through the kitchen, we headed to the breakfast nook where our mother and father were waiting. The breakfast nook was inviting with its painted red walls. The places at the table were set with silverware and plates decorated with pink roses. Meatloaf and mashed potatoes sat on the table, ready to be eaten. I wrinkled my nose in disgust at the sight of the succotash, a mixture of lima beans and corn. We all sat down on the two light green benches. I sat next to my mother while Dorothy and my father sat across from us. We said grace before eating.

After dinner, my father said, “I think it would be a good idea to get out of the house for a little bit and get some ice cream.”

Excited, Dorothy and I climbed into the backseat of our father’s black Buick Sedan. I smiled when I saw the large ice cream cone sign on the roof of the Dairy Queen. Seeing the building brought forth memories of previous ice cream cones I had eaten there. Chocolate had always been my favorite. My father rolled down the window of his car to place our order at the drive thru window.

“We’ll have three chocolate ice cream cones, please,” he told the worker.

My father handed over some money, and the worker gave him three chocolate ice cream cones. He passed one to me and one to my sister. We parked the car in one of the Dairy Queen’s parking spots and enjoyed our ice cream. I found that I liked spending time with my family like this. If I hadn’t been quarantined, I wouldn’t have spent as much time with them. Part of my summer didn’t go as planned but it wasn’t all that bad.