Kids are surprisingly Resilient, Part 2

There were three of them. Broad in the shoulders, blond-headed, easy smiles.
Brothers. Big men on campus. Co-eds swooned at the thought of them.
Being a big man on the campus at the University of Texas, with a population slightly less than Tyler’s back then, was no small thing even thirty years ago.
Unlike some of the other uber-achievers at the university, these brothers were respected not only by their male friends, but also by the gals as real gentlemen.
Being a leader on that campus marked you as a future leader anywhere you decided to settle; the cream tended to rise to the top.
Many of the campus leaders spent summers working at Camp Longhorn. One of the first of the high-end sports camps, Camp Longhorn is the place where blobs were first invented right after WWII by the owner who was also the Longhorn’s winning swim team coach.
At least one of the brothers was a counselor at Camp Longhorn where he was a trend-setter, too. He was cool, tan, and in charge of the boats, spending his days pulling campers through the water and teaching them to ski. His joy was infectious. Any kid lucky enough to draw the straw for his boat knew they were in for a treat. He had a perceptive way of focusing on each camper and making them feel like the most special human on earth.
In my last year as a camper, we were scheduled to take a special field trip to some fabulous place that escapes my memory now.
The campers were all a-twitter about something else; a small detour in route to the real destination. The day of the trip, all the campers were squirming with anticipation.
The bus pulled up in front of a middle-class home on a shady, tree-lined street somewhere in central Texas.
We were there to take a break, get a drink, and to meet his parents.
His parents were the big event.
The thing that sticks with me most is that his parents were very clearly, tenderly, affectionately in love with each other. And his mother was deaf.
Yeah, that was in the days before our culture had run through half a dozen politically correct euphemisms, like handicapped, challenged, impaired or special.
Those parents welcomed a bus-load of sweaty camp kids into their home and both spoke clearly to the group, extending their affection to us. Fingers flew and hugs were exchanged as the mom waved goodbye to her son when we pulled away an hour later.
Don’t ya wonder what challenges, like being hearing-impaired, do to the dynamics of a family?
I’m not saying that having a mom who was deaf made those brothers turn out to be the exceptional people that they were.
Personally, I think it was their parent’s hearts.
Cathy Primer Krafve, aka Checklist Charlie, lives and writes with a Texas twang. Comments are invited at http:/checklistcharlie.blogspot.com or cathykrafve@gmail.com.