The Choice of Joy: Day 28, Forgetting Polio

Late 1940s, early 50s:  one of our greatest childhood fears was contracting polio.  Particularly in the Southern Summers, I remember being coerced into afternoon naptime with the reasoning that the polio germ was out at that time of the day and looking for children.  Any time one of us youngsters had a high fever,  the frowns on our parents' brows indicated their worry that we had fallen victim to the dreaded illlness. 

After films concluded in our local movie theatre, after the news clips, there was always a short on polio.  Then the screen went dark, house lights came up and tin cans were passed around for us to contribute our nickels and dimes to fighting the disease.  The March of Dimes was the central campaign organization for fighting polio, and its name was a household phrase. 

A neighbor across the creek contracted polio and was left in a wheelchair, severely crippled.  Johnny was his name, age 5.  I remember his mother struggling to get his wheelchair into the stands at football games and tucking a blanket around him as we all cheered for our athletes.  The blanket hid his withered limbs.

When we made the hour’s drive to Alexandria to shop, we had to pass the King Rand Polio center on our way to department stores.  There inflicted children were being treated in their iron lungs.  As Mother drove our Plymouth past, I would hold my breath so as not to inhale the germ.

Mercifully the vaccine was developed.  Our rural community held an inoculation day, and we all stood in line at the local high school gymnasium to receive our immunity, a dot of liquid on a sugar cube.

My joy today is watching my grandson playing soccer and running across the field.  His parents and I cheer as he kicks the ball.  The fear of polio stopping those nimble legs never occurs to us.  He and we are free of that specter.  We have forgotten polio.

Last night on “Charlie Rose” among other subjects Bill Gates discussed his foundation’s efforts to eradicate polio worldwide.  The disease still threatens the running, dancing legs of children in certain corners of our globe.  How lucky we are in this country to forget.