Flying with Style
Flying with Style
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I'm one of three children my older sister was born with CP and Ms. I grew up in the seventies with my sister in a wheelchair all her life still in it when we were children we would put her in are little red Radio Flyer wagon and walk around for hours. I'll never forget the joy in her face as we drug her everywhere we went in a wagon. As a child it was awful hard to push a wheelchair in some of the places that we went and we could get that little wagon everywhere. My sister was able to fish for the first time in her life cuz we could put it in the wagon get her to the lake. My brother and I took her everywhere in that wagon you see she looked as normal as us without the wheelchair. No I'm not ashamed of my sister never have been never will be but other kids could be so mean. That little red metal wagon meant a lot to us. I'm sure it's somewhere in my mother shed. Oh we we're not rich but we sure felt like it. That wagon was a big part of our childhood. Thank you for allowing me the opportunity to tell you my story. My sister is 57 years old now and is lived way past what she was expected to thank goodness. For the love of Mildred is pure and innocent.
"We adopted my little brother when I was 8 and he was four months old. From the very beginning, he loved for me to prop him up with blankets and pillows and take him for a ride in our Radio Flyer little red wagon. That wagon truly was an integral part of our play and was used daily unless the weather was bad. Pulling him around soon turned to figuring out creative ways to tow him as soon as he could sit up and hold on. I devised a genius system involving my bicycle, a rope, the wagon, and a 1/2 mile gravel driveway. We flew together with the wind in our hair up and down that driveway until I turned a corner a little too sharply and then I was banned from making alterations to the wagon handle for the rest of our lives (if he were to make it that long with the rest of my creative shenanigans). Luckily, I didn't accidentally scar him for life. Fast forward to 22 years later and we are sitting on the porch laughing and watching my three nieces who are 5, 7, and 8 getting a running start like they are bobsledding, throwing themselves into the wagon at the last possible moment of top speed, holding the handle back, and hanging on for dear life as they race down a hill in the now squeaky and slightly rusty little red Radio Flyer wagon that we loved so dearly. They were bruised and there were a few scrapes, but they loved it so much they just kept pushing the wagon back up the hill and doing it over and over again. Did we stop them?... nope. We sat on the porch and reminisced about all of our childhood escapades with that very same little red wagon and could almost feel the wind in our hair again as we flew together down that gravel driveway years ago. That little red Radio Flyer wagon still lives at Gramma and Papa's house 30 years later and my four little girls create their own memories with it every time they visit. "