Red Gladiolas lined up stately along the flower bed in front of the short retaining wall that contained our small sloped lawn. I remember my mother standing next to them posing in a short sleeved dress, short brown hair and in her hand-made shoes from the White Shoe Company in Spokane. Those shoes made a statement about my mother. Clearly the small round shoes indicated a handicap of sorts. She never exhibited any handicap, though. She rarely spoke of the twelve operations she had endured, before age twelve, to enable her to walk on club feet. She never complained, she danced and ran and volunteered and had a career. Others should learn from her. And she felt good about herself, you could see it as she smiled next to those red gladiolas.
