11:00 p.m. | 2005-02-01 Forgotten History. I�ve discovered that things I remember from my past are random. I can remember thinking, oh so many times, that I�d never forget such and such. But, I have. Now I know why people identify and date their photographs, especially parents. I have photos that feature people that seem familiar but I�ve got no clue as to where and when they were in my life. I also have photos that I�ll never forget. However, most of those are etched on my brain. Anyway, in conversation today, I mentioned that, while I was growing up, my parents were foster parents and we typically had a foster child in our home. I�ve never really talked about that before so I was surprised when I called them �the Fosters�. As in the �foster� siblings. I remembered their names by the states we lived in. For the record, that�d be five foster siblings and five states. There were more though. Unofficial ones. Not so much with MyMom, but there are many people out there that considered MyDad their substitute father. My parents, my father especially, excelled at providing for other kids. Not so much with his own. Too much history stood in the way I think. The Fosters, as I�ve dubbed them, were special kids though. I mean that in the sense that they were (are) special and they had (have) special needs. Deaf, blind, crippled (as was the vernacular back in the day) or all of the above. My parents never adopted any kids though which is odd considering how much they talked about doing just that. So, I wonder about the Fosters. You know, what happened to them and all. Especially since they were �drop off� kids. I was a �latch key� kid, which is somewhat different. �Drop off� kids were ones that were just dumped into institutions because they had some sort of disability. They were dropped off and never picked up. The institutions that MyDad worked for were always looking for foster homes for the �drop off� kids to fill the gaps during the summer and on school breaks. My parents provided that and often provided for them year round. The foster sibling that I found most compelling was Jane. My parents fostered Jane when I was seven. Jane was also seven. However she was, from birth, completely deaf and blind and had cerebral palsy so bad that she spent most of her time curled up like an infant. She couldn�t hear, see, walk or talk. Of course, we taught her some sign language but it was very, very basic. At the time, and to this day, I was (am) struck with the thought of how a person in such a situation would or could perceive the world. I spent long hours with her though. Because I knew she still had the sense of smell and touch, I would collect all kinds of things with different textures and scents and present them to her. Not in a professional way of course, just as a seven year old would do. I also introduced her to all my pets. (And perhaps, I annoyed the hell out of her. I really don't know.) My parents did more occupational therapy type of things, while I just tried to introduce the world to her. A seven-year-old world at that. And, frankly, I still don�t know how she perceived the world, or how anyone else does for that matter. But, I figured she understood some universal things. Why? Because she laughed, she cried and she got mad. She was happy, sad, frustrated, angry and sometimes just content. If that�s not human nature then I don�t know what is. See, you can predict history more than you can forget or change it because humans, by their nature, don�t get any different. They just invent different accessories. your thoughts? seed flower