[Fwd: Houston Chronicle Article by Joe Roach]

[Guest guest]

Hi Everyone!

I have saved this email from when it was sent to the listserve back in

Apr.'99. I thought this article would be worth reading to the many new

parents and members who have joined since. It's very touching and

inspirational.

Thank you,

Cheryl

Editor's note: Joe Roach Sr. received the ronald McNair Memorial Award

from Community Partners on Thursday. The following essay was written by

his son as a letter nominating him for the honor.

_______________________________

by Joe Roach Jr.

_______________________________

Thirty-five years ago, he stood by my bedside. Moments earlier, I

had been born a dwarf with water on the brain. My head was growing

rapidly, filling with water. My father stood by my bedside as doctors

told him that they were unable to stop the rapid swelling of my head.

They told him I would have to be institutionalized.

For two straight days, he stood vigil. My mom was recovering from

the difficult delivery. My father prayed that somehow the swelling

would stop, and my brain would function properly. Then it happened -

the doctors couldn't explain it, but the swelling and the water

disappeared. My brain started to work. I was still a dwarf, but I

could think. My dad was there to welcome me to the first real day of my

life.

Most fathers dream that their sons will grow to be strong athletes

or famous sports stars, but I was going to be different. My dad was

never disappointed. The biggest day of his life was the day that I

walked.

He made me feel special. He made me feel loved. I wasn't going to

be 6 feet, 3 inches tall like him. Yet, he made me feel like a giant.

Childhood was a challenge. My father searched for weeks until he

found a bicycle with pedals I could reach. He made sure that I had

stools at school to help me reach the drinking fountain and toilet.

I remember his looking all over Houston for cowboy boots small

enough that they would not cover my knees.

He watched patiently as I played basketball in the fourth grade.

Almost all of my shots were blocked. He was never embarrassed. He was

proud that I was a member of the team.

Adolescence wasn't easy. My peers grew tall without me. As a

teen-ager, I wanted so badly to be like everyone else. Dad made it so

much easier. He got extension pedals so I could drive a car. He worked

longer hours so I could get custom-fitted suits that looked my age,

instead of buying suits from the boys' department. Dad even arranged

for dwarf girls to fly into Houston for dates to special functions my

senior year. He knew that I needed to be thought of as a regular

person. He made it happen.

He encouraged me to develop my mind. While other dads bragged about

their sons' baseball scores, my dad bragged that I had written the most

book reports. Because my body wouldn't get me where I wanted to go, he

pushed me to develop my mind. Dad taught me to think my way to

success. He stressed college and graduate school. He encouraged

academics. He rode me hard. He knew I would starve if I had to rely on

my physical skills.

He saved my life.

Today, I am one of only two dwarves in the world with a legal

education. I am the only dwarf in public office in a major city. My

success has the word " Dad " written all over it.

My father taught me to develop my heart. He showed me that it

wasn't enough to be personally successful; you have to give something

back. He spent almost his entire life in public service as a space

pioneer at NASA. Dad helped design mission control. He helped put a

man on the moon. He received the Presidential Medal of Freedom for

saving the lives of the Apollo 13 astronauts. During that flight, we

didn't see him for two weeks. He stayed at NASA working to save the

Apollo 13 mission so the astronauts' families would see and touch their

dads again.

For his work, he received numerous offers of prestigious jobs in

Washington, D.C., as well as throughout the world. He turned down all

of them. Because I was different, Dad felt that I would do better by

attending the same schools with the same friends. Dad turned down

personal prestige and lucrative executive positions without my knowing

it.

In 1990, my dad again found himself standing at a bedside. My wife,

Becky, had given birth to our son, my dad's first grandson, a 7-pound

boy named n. n was born with a lethal form of dwarfism and

was dying in the neonatal intensive-care unit of Texas Children's

Hospital.

It was almost like history was repeating itself, but this time I was

standing next to the bedside of my son with my dad standing next to me.

n died. As he left the world, I felt my dad's hand softly clasp

mine, and he kissed my forehead. He didn't say anything. He didn't

need to.

Two years later we were back in the neonatal intensive-care unit of

Texas Children's. Becky had given birth to our second son, a 7-pound

boy named . Born with the same form of lethal dwarfism,

lived almost two days. I kept a vigil at his bedside; Dad kept vigil

with me. There in the intensive-care unit were three generations of

Roach men - my son, my father and I. Despite the emotional pain, Dad

stood by me as we watched pass quietly out of our lives. As my

second son left the world, I knew I was standing next to the strongest

man I've ever known, my dad, the gentle giant.

You don't expect to bury your children. Dad was there to hold me

up. He helped me grieve and deal with the darkest period of my life.

Because of my father, I was able to put one foot in front of the other

and keep going.

Two years later, I again found myself standing next to my dad,

awaiting the arrival of a child. This time, it was at an airport gate,

waiting for my newly adopted 22-month-old son. His name was Ross. He

had been orphaned at birth in the Philippines. A dwarf, he was kept in

a hospital bed for a year. They had tried to sell him.

Becky and I were so excited.

Once again, there were three generations of Roach men standing

together: Ross, my dad and I. Just as he had been with me when I was

born, my father was there to welcome Ross to the first real day of his

new life. I will always remember that moment. I will always remember

Dad's smile as he met his new grandson.

[Guest guest]

Thank you for sharing that Cheryl. That was the best " Father's Day "

Story! It was very appropriate!

Thank you again!

a

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

> Thank you,

> Cheryl

>

>

>

> Editor's note: Joe Roach Sr. received the ronald McNair Memorial

Award

> from Community Partners on Thursday. The following essay was

written by his son as a letter nominating him for the honor.

>

> _______________________________

> by Joe Roach Jr.

> _______________________________

>

My father stood by my bedside as doctors told him that they were

unable to stop the rapid swelling of my head.

My dad was never disappointed. The biggest day of his life was the

day that I walked.

He made me feel special. He made me feel loved. I wasn't going to

be 6 feet, 3 inches tall like him. Yet, he made me feel like a giant.

He knew that I needed to be thought of as a regular person. He made

it happen.

My success has the word " Dad " written all over it.

I knew I was standing next to the strongest man I've ever known, my

dad, the gentle giant.

Because of my father, I was able to put one foot in front of the

other and keep going.

Once again, there were three generations of Roach men standing

together: Ross, my dad and I. Just as he had been with me when I

was born, my father was there to welcome Ross to the first real day

of his new life. I will always remember that moment. I will always

remember Dad's smile as he met his new grandson.