A couple and their young son from an adjacent neighborhood walked by and stopped, the little boy pestering his parents to go inside the yard and play. Mama spotted them and approached. “Good afternoon,” she greeted them.
“Afternoon,” the father echoed. “How much for one of those pony rides?” he asked.
“Free,” she replied with a smile. “The food, the games…it’s all free. And you’re welcome to stay for as long as you’d like.”
The man and his wife nodded, appreciatively. “Thanks, Ma’am. What’s the celebration for?”
“My grandson walked for the first time,” she answered, with no further explanation.
The couple smiled and stepped into the yard, clearly confused over all the fuss. “What’s the big deal?” the man whispered to his wife. “Sooner or later, all kids learn to walk.”
Chapter 11
Early Fall 1982
It was Wednesday night and the family was gathered in Mama’s kitchen. While they broke bread, Joan waited for the competing conversations to die down before she made her announcement. “Frank and I have decided to enroll Brian in Meeting Street School for disabled children. He’ll be starting on Monday.”
“Wonderful,” Mama said, while the rest of them agreed.
“Are you excited?” Aunt Bev asked Brian.
He shook his head, but said nothing. He clearly didn’t like the sound of it.
Mama searched his face. “It’ll be fine, sweetheart,” she told him. “It’s the best thing for you – you’ll see. You’re going to meet a bunch of new friends your own age and…” She stopped.
For the first time in his short life, Brian averted his eyes from Mama’s penetrating gaze. He was clearly disturbed by this new idea called school.
Dressed in a new matching outfit and his lunch box packed with his favorites – a bologna and cheese sandwich, and butterscotch pudding for dessert – Brian brushed his teeth, while Joan parted his hair to the side.
“Ready?” she asked, admiring his polished look.
He shook his head. “Nah go.”
“You have to go, Brian,” she said, nervously. “We have no choice, so please don’t make this any harder than it has to be.”
Joan pulled the Oldsmobile into Meeting Street School’s parking lot and shut off the engine. She turned to face the back seat. “This will be fun. Just wait and see.”
Brian stared out the side window, never moving.
She got out of the car, walked around the back and opened his door. “Let’s go,” she said, trying to sound strong. “You’re going to be late.”
He reluctantly got out and followed his mother. As they crossed the front of the school, Brian noticed several children playing in the fenced concrete yard. She searched his face, hoping for a positive reaction. His face was set like marble.
Joan completed some final paperwork in the main office before Mrs. Martin addressed Brian. “You ready to go meet your teacher?” she asked.
He looked at his mother, his eyes filled with terror. “Nah go cool,” he begged. “Nah go, Ma.”
Joan looked at Mrs. Martin and half-shrugged. “My husband and I have been talking to Brian about school for the last couple weeks. He doesn’t like the idea of me leaving him here alone.”
Mrs. Martin smiled. It was a smile that said she’d dealt with this same situation many times before. “But he won’t be alone,” she promised, looking directly at Brian. “He’ll have plenty of friends before he knows it.”
Joan followed Mrs. Martin out of the room and into the long, yellow hallway.
With no where else to turn, Brian moped behind the women until they entered the classroom at the end of the hall. An older teacher with kind eyes stood up from behind her desk and greeted them. “There you are, Brian,” she said. “I’ve been looking forward to meeting you. I’m Mrs. Ledwidge.” With a nod, Mrs. Martin left the room.
Brian turned to his mother again, his eyes completely panicked. “Nah, Ma…nah cool!”
Joan took a deep breath and explained the situation to Mrs. Ledwidge.
While they discussed Brian, he continued to complain, his voice growing louder with each desperate plea. “Nah, Ma. Nah cool. Go now.”
Joan finished filling the teacher in and took another deep breath. She grabbed Brian by the shoulders and kissed his forehead. “Okay sweetheart, Mrs. Ledwidge is going to take care of you now. I’ll be back…”
“NAH!” he screamed, and immediately collapsed to the floor – where he sobbed terribly.
“Get up, Brian,” Joan told him, her cheeks pink from embarrassment.
“NAH!” he screamed again, and threw his arms around her leg. She tried to push him off, but he was locked on tight. “NAH, MA!” he wailed, his body now convulsing from fear.
Joan stood paralyzed. She looked to Mrs. Ledwidge for help. The teacher bent down and spoke quietly to Brian, trying to soothe him. “It’s okay, Brian. We’re going to have fun today.”
He screeched like a wounded animal sensing its death.
“Maybe we should try it again tomorrow?” Joan suggested over the screams.
Mrs. Ledwidge stood erect and shook her head. “That’s not a good idea, Mrs. Mauretti,” she said. “Trust me, this won’t get any easier.”
While Brian screamed and cried, Joan’s eyes filled with tears. “I’m so sorry,” she said, “but I don’t think either one of us is ready for this today.”
Mrs. Ledwidge shook her head again. “Mrs. Mauretti, please…” she began to protest, but Joan had already made her decision.
Joan bent down and stared into Brian’s eyes. “Okay, sweetheart. Let’s go home.”
In an instant, Brian was up, wiping his eyes and scrambling for the door.
Joan drummed up the courage to look into Mrs. Ledwidge’s eyes. “I’m sorry,” she said again. “We’ll try it again tomorrow.”
Mrs. Ledwidge nodded once and then watched as Joan and Brian hurried out of the classroom.
Joan didn’t even have her coat off when she was on the telephone, explaining the school nightmare to Mama. “It was just awful, Ma. I’ve never felt so bad for him. And now I don’t know what to do. Frank and I are supposed to testify at the Congressional subcommittee in a few days.” She sighed heavily. “Maybe we’ll just take him with us and I’ll bring him back to school next week.”
“Nonsense!” Mama said. “I’ll take him tomorrow.”
“Oh Ma, I can’t ask you to do that. You can’t imagine how bad…”
“But you didn’t ask,” Mama interrupted. “I offered. Leave it to me, I’ll get Brian settled in this week, while you give them hell in D.C.”
“Right…D.C.” Joan sighed again. “I don’t know which one would be easier,” she muttered, filled with anxiety.
“Easier?” Mama asked.
“Testifying in D.C. in front of all those people is not going to be an easy thing to do, you know.”
“Joan, easy has never played a role when it’s come to Brian’s story. You need to find the courage to do the right thing. It may not help your son directly, but I’m sure it will help others from having to go through the same suffering.”
Joan breathed deeply. “You’re right, Ma.” She chuckled. “You’re always right.”
Mama laughed. “Well, not always…but close.”
“Are you sure you don’t mind bringing Brian to school?”
“Don’t you worry. I’m more than happy to give him a ride. You just have him ready to go. I’ll be there at 7:30.”
The following morning, Mama pulled up to her daughter’s house, just as Frank was pulling out of the driveway and heading off to work. He stopped in front of her car, leaned across the front seat and rolled down the passenger side window. “Thanks for doing this,” he told Mama. “You might honestly be saving your daughter from a heart attack.”
Mama reached into the window and patted his arm. “My pleasure,” she said, and looked down at her watch. “Aren’t you late for work?”
He nodded. “A little. But I couldn’t leave Joan alone with him this morning.”
“As bad as yesterday?” she asked.
“Maybe worse,” he said, his face filled with worry.
Mama nodded. “No worries, Frank. I’ll take care of it. Now go to work.”
“Thank you,” he said, and truly meant it.
She shot him a wink and then marched off toward the house like the veteran drill sergeant she was.
Mama wasn’t past the threshold when Brian came running, throwing himself into her arms. “Nah, Mama. Nah cool!” he yelled. His face was awash in tears and mucous.
Mama looked past him to find her daughter standing there, looking like she hadn’t slept in a week. She pushed Brian away to an arm’s length and grabbed his trembling shoulders. “You listen to me right now, little boy! You get your butt into that bathroom this instant and wash your face, brush your teeth and finish getting yourself ready for school!”
For a moment, he stopped howling and sobbing. He looked up at her, shocked by her firm touch and harsh tone.
“Now!” she yelled, and spun him on his heels to face the bathroom.
He looked back once, but didn’t dare make a peep. Instead, he put his head down and started walking.
“How dare you put your mother through this!” she scolded, as she followed him into the bathroom. “Every boy and girl needs to go to school, and you’re no better than any one of them.”
Joan stood in the hallway – watching in awe as her mother barked orders and her son obeyed – and felt two hundred pounds slide off her shoulders.
Mama took Brian by the hand, marched him into the school and straight down to his classroom. With a surprised look on her face, Mrs. Ledwidge stood to greet them. Mama extended her hand. “Good morning. I’m Angela DiMartino, Brian’s disappointed grandmother. It’s nice to meet you.”
The woman smiled.
Mama gave the teacher a quick but thorough inventory of Brian’s likes and dislikes, his quirks and eccentric ways. “Amongst his other gifts, Brian suffers with Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. Everything has to be just so. He gets very uneasy when things are out of place or off schedule. He lives a very safe and structured life, and it’s tough to get him to try anything new.”
Mrs. Ledwidge smiled at the obvious point.
“He’s obsessively clean,” Mama continued, “always washing his hands. And he’s a true daydreamer, his mind traveling to places that I’m not even permitted to go. I usually allow him to take the trip.”
Mrs. Ledwidge nodded.
“For reasons that reach beyond my understanding, he hates when people get lower than him. Whenever his brother wants to tease him, he crawls up to Brian who will always scream and lash out from fear. Just be aware of that when he’s around the other kids.”
Mrs. Ledwidge nodded again.
“When Brian gets really upset, he whines, hyperventilates, and paces. ‘That’s enough,’ I tell him. ‘That’s enough now!’ Only a firm tone will calm him.” Mama paused for acknowledgement of this.
Mrs. Ledwidge nodded her understanding.
Mama returned the nod. “But when he’s not terrified out of his mind, he’s a real charmer and will do whatever he can to get his way. Please be firm with him.”
“I will,” Mrs. Ledwidge promised, grateful for the valuable insight.
Mama sighed heavy, satisfied that the information had been shared and understood. She concluded the conversation by handing the impressed woman a piece of paper with her telephone number scribbled on it. “If you need me to come back and pick him up, I will.” She peered into her eyes. “But if you’re willing to keep him, then he’s all yours for the day.”
As the teacher nodded, Mama bent down and kissed Brian’s head. “Have a good day and listen to your teacher,” she told him. “I’ll be back to pick you up this afternoon.”
“NAH!” he screamed and dove to the floor to grab her legs. But she had anticipated the move and side-stepped it like an experienced wrestler, leaving him huddled and crying on the floor. Mrs. Ledwidge quickly moved in and restrained him long enough for her to leave. Desperately, he reached for her, screaming, “NAH MAMA…NAH GO!”
Mama turned around and headed for the door, never once looking back.
“NAH MAMA…NAH GO!”
She heard his screams echo down the hallway and her eyes filled with tears. She grabbed her crucifix and kissed it. Lord, please give me the strength to do what’s right for this boy. I beg you – just give me the will to stay strong for him right now.
“NAH MAMA…NAH GO!” he wailed out again.
She threw open the school’s front door and hurried out. For the next hour, she sat in her car – praying and crying, all at the same time.
Wednesday was just as bad, with Brian having a complete breakdown and Mama showering him with all the tough love she could muster. Thursday seemed a little bit better, but not much. On Friday, Mama walked Brian into his classroom for the last time. She told Mrs. Ledwidge, “Brian needs to apologize for his childish tantrums this week and…”
“Oh, that’s not necessary,” Mrs. Ledwidge interrupted, smiling at Brian. “We’re making great progress.”
Mama nudged him in the back. “Go on, Brian.”
“Soy,” he whispered.
“What’s that?” Mama asked. “Your nice teacher didn’t hear you.”
“Soy,” he said louder.
Mrs. Ledwidge smiled compassionately and bent down to grab his hand. “Apology accepted, Brian.”
First thing Saturday morning, Joan arrived at the cottage to pick up the boys. After smothering them with hugs and souvenirs from Washington D.C., she took a seat at the kitchen table with Mama. “So how did Brian do at school this week?” she asked, her brow folded in fearful anticipation.
Mama looked past Joan to find Brian standing in the doorway, eavesdropping. “Piece of cake,” she said.
“Are you kidding me?” Joan asked, shocked.
Mama nodded. “He was a perfect angel,” she fibbed. “Just wait and see how good he’s going to do this week when you drop him off at school.”
Brian smiled, and then disappeared into the living room.
“So tell me what happened in D.C.,” Mama said.
Joan’s smile told the story long before her words could. “It was a little rough going at first. I had to breathe through a terrible panic attack, but once I started testifying the anger took over and I gave them every detail of what Brian’s been forced to go through…what we’ve all been through.”
“Good for you. So what was the outcome?”
“Well, in the end, the FDA and Infant Formula Council both agreed that regulatory legislation is needed. One bill is expected to receive overwhelming approval in the House. Another is going before the Senate health subcommittee by the end of the month.”
“That’s wonderful,” Mama said. “Just wonderful.”
Joan nodded. “Syntex will be mandated to reformulate its products and will have to work with the FDA to ensure that they meet all nutrient guidelines. Once tested and FDA approved, they’ll be allowed to put their formulas back on the market.”
Mama shrugged, less impressed.
“The Senate health subcommittee will also establish – through the CDC – a registry of children who developed metabolic alkalosis as a result of using Neo Mulsoy formula…so at least all of the babies affected will be accounted for.”
Mama stayed quiet for a few moments, digesting all that she’d just learned. “I’m proud of you, Joan,” she said. “You’ve just made a positive difference in this world…even if it wasn’t the easiest thing to do.”
Joan nodded. “And through it all, those company attorneys couldn’t have cared less about Brian, or any other baby that the formula poisoned. Can you imagine that?”
“Unfortunately, I can,” Mama said, shaking her disgusted head. “It’s all about the money these days. If they weren’t trying to save money by taking the sodium out of
the formula in the first place, Brian wouldn’t have to fight so hard for every inch of his life.”
Due in part to Joan’s emotional testimony, Congress finally passed the Infant Formula Act. The new act created a separate category of food designated as infant formula. It mandated that every infant formula on the market meet explicit standards of quality and safety, and contain all the essential nutrients infants need – including chloride – at specific levels. Under this act, the FDA required manufacturers to follow quality control procedures, analyze each batch of formula for required nutrients, test samples for stability during the shelf life of the product, code containers identifying each batch, and maintain and make records available to FDA inspectors. It was the first in a series of major legislative and regulatory steps taken to ensure the safety of infant formulas.
Ignoring Frank’s lack of enthusiasm, Joan threw a party. She and the Mothers of Neo Mulsoy Babies – with Mama as their special guest – celebrated like they’d just witnessed the second coming of Christ.
Chapter 12
Spring 1983
Mama continued to take the kids on day trips that allowed her to teach them about the world, and more importantly, themselves.
A city rich in history and culture, Boston is one of the most popular destinations in the world and luckily for Mama and her brood, it was only sixty miles away from the cottage by the bay. She wanted to walk the decks of the USS Constitution, explore the historical landmarks along the Freedom Trail, and roam the streets of Beacon Hill with the kids, introducing them to the old world charm and international flavor of the state’s capital.
They drove to North Quincy and took the train to the Bunker Hill Monument in Charlestown near the old Navy Yard.
Although he was much too big for it, Brian sat in his oversized stroller, drinking from a yellow sippy cup. Some woman began staring at him. “Do you want to take a picture?” Mama asked. “I can put on some lipstick if you want.”
Goodnight, Brian Page 9