Author Spotlight
Matt Gannon
Elli Walker had always been popping up in my life.
We had Mrs. Swan as our kindergarten teacher and I saw her every day walking home from Brookwood Elementary with her brother and sister. Every year I trick-or-treated at her house. I knew who she was: the little girl up the street with Down Syndrome. Now as I sit in my banged-up black Ford Explorer on the early morning drive to East, Elli sits next to me, giggling and singing along to “Like a G6” on 95.7 The Vibe, being what she would call a “silly goose.”
The idea I once had of Elli, of being a quiet girl being held back by her disability, couldn’t be more wrong. I realized that I never used to really know Elli Walker. But after months of driving Elli to school, I can see the real Elli Walker, a girl that refuses to be held back.
When my mom first brought up the idea of taking Elli to school during my junior year, I was skeptical of what the experience would be like. I realized that I hadn’t actually said anything more than a simple “Hi” to Elli since I entered high school. It seemed stunning to me–she lived literally seven houses up the street and I had never really had an actual conversation with her. I had no idea if she even remembered me and I wondered how uncomfortable and awkward the 15-minute drive could be.
Was it going to be an ice-cold, close-mouthed ride up Mission Road, with only the muffled radio breaking the silence? I didn’t know much about Down Syndrome and I didn’t know how that was going to affect her in the car. I had no idea what we were going to talk about when I got in my car that morning on the first day of school.
When I pulled up to her house, all fear of a silent car ride to East disappeared. She walked outside beaming, swinging her schoolbag playfully, and swung open the door, giggling with excitement for the year. In those 15 minutes, I learned how Buster, Elli’s dog, wouldn’t stop running around the kitchen that morning; how a close friend had just given her an awesome lava lamp; how her brother, Dan was being a “silly goose” the night before and wouldn’t go to bed.
After nearly a semester of driving her, I learned that there is never a dull moment with Elli. One moment she could be singing “Poker Face” and cranking the radio up, and the next she could be on a rant on how difficult boys are to deal with, whether it was the goofy guy in her seminar or Dan. But one thing was for sure–a ride with Elli was always going to end with a good chuckle.
I used to think that my life was rough, whether I was staying up until 2 a.m. to finish an AHAP paper over the Jacksonian Era or trying to balance out cross country schedule with schoolwork, volunteering, and friends. But Elli has made me realize that my problems really aren’t that bad, when compared to the severe issues that she faces everyday.
She was having to deal with the divorce of her parents; her older brother, who was always there for a hug, was going to college, and on top of that she had a disability that was holding her back. Some days on the ride to school, Elli would just go off on a rant about how her dad had taken Dan, Abby, and her out too dinner to late the night before, and how she struggled to finish her math homework because of it. She was frustrated, but she didn’t let things like this hold her back.
She approached everything with a smile, and she was excited for the simplest of moments. She couldn’t wait to be a swimming manager again; she couldn’t stop talking about going bowling with her friends over the weekend; she couldn’t wait to get home, bounce on her bed and call up some friends.
Elli made me realize that tough stuff is going to happen to you in life, but she also showed me that you can’t just sit around and pout about it; you have to go out and make the best of it.
I realized that during my first two years of high school, I just slid by. I never did anything out of the ordinary; I always did what my friends did. While Elli was out their singing, molding art, and swimming despite her limitations, I was just watching another episode of “The Office,” refusing to break away from my safe protected lifestyle.
Driving Elli made me realize that I was missing out on life. I started to pursue something that I’ve always wanted to do since my brother died due to his medical disability: volunteering with disabled kids. I gave up my GABL basketball career after 10 years, and decided to actually make a change.
This semester I’ve cooked spaghetti, trick-or-treated, played soccer, bowled and had picnics with disabled high school students, and if it wasn’t for the simple jokes and chats that Elli created in our newborn friendship, I know I wouldn’t have been able to break away from my friends and follow a passion of mine.
***
One Sunday morning my mom shook me awake, muttering that Elli’s house had burned to the ground. She quickly rushed out of my room. I just stared blankly at the ceiling; I was in disbelief. This had to be a dream. I looked at the clock. It flashed 5:30 a.m. My mom ran back into my room after just speaking with Sharon Walker. Elli and her family had been out of town and now would have to stay with a neighbor of mine, but the family’s entire house was gone.
I couldn’t go back to sleep. I couldn’t imagine the thought of coming home after a fun family trip, to see your home obliterated, with nothing to salvage. Elli’s pictures, her pets, her bedroom, her whole life, had been taken away. And I didn’t think she would be able to find any bright side to this.
When I picked her up from a neighbor’s house the next morning, I could tell Elli was holding back tears the whole way to school. The innocent joy of her personality was gone. There was no laughter, no singing. Just heart-breaking remarks like “Buster was dead” or “My new homecoming dress is gone, too.”
As we drove by the shattered house, it just laid there in ruins. Elli mumbled how she was never going to see her room, her pets or her home again.
I tried to offer comfort, constantly saying how things were going to get better; how her friends were going to be behind her through everything. I told her that we were going to fix this. Her friends were going to come through for her.
She seemed like she was in another world for the next few days. Just staring out the window, looking away when we passed her house. I couldn’t stand having to drive by that crumbling building every day. I hated watching how it was changing her.
She said that the thing that upset her most was watching her mom suffer, signing papers over the house and arguing with her divorced husband. This is when I learned that Elli wasn’t worried about her problems anymore. She was worried for her brother, her sister and her mom.
***
Like I had said that day after the fire, her friends were going to fix this. Every day, despite her sadness, she would tell me how excited she was to go get ice cream with her friends at TCBY or Peachwave, and how everyone was giving her hugs. The car rides became fun again and Elli was getting her goofiness back.
But her worry for her family never left. She wondered where they were going to live and how was her brother Jack was going to react when he came home from college for Thanksgiving. She realized that she now had to be a stronghold for her siblings, Dan and Abby.
That’s when I realized that Elli wasn’t just a “silly goose.” When she promised herself that she was going to step up and always be there for her family, even if it was just giving her mom a hug, I couldn’t help feeling proud about how she was maturing.
I started to see Elli as more of little sister. I knew that I also needed to step up and help her in whatever way I could, whether it was taking her to Halloween parties, or volunteering at “A Walk for the Walkers.” I helped move furniture into the Walker’s new house—the house right next door to me.
Elli had changed me. Before, I would have attended events to help Elli, but now I was there at the front lines. I was going to help change Elli’s life. It became my goal.
One day after seventh hour, I was in no hurry to get home so I chatted with my friends for a while as we waited for the parking lot to clear out and for the buses to leave. When three of us began making our way down the stairs, I saw somebody crouched at the bottom of the stairs, with her face cradled in her hands. Something was obviously bothering this girl.
I could recognize that pink and green flowered backpack with pink anywhere. It was Elli. I take her to school, but she usually takes the bus home. She had missed the bus.
And then without hesitation, I asked Elli if she needed a ride. She bounced up with a bright smile on her face. That bit of sadness I saw in her was gone, and she skipped to the car as I watched my other two friends move on.
I knew that just a year before, I would have been with them. I wouldn’t have stopped to help Elli, and I don’t blame them for walking on. They don’t really know Elli. But let me tell you, getting to know Elli is one of the greatest things that’s ever happened to me.
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