The following comments are extracted from those made by neighbor and family friend, Suzanne (Brignac) Graas formally of Great Bend, KS.
--------
My mother was a very close friend of the Rayburn's, and taught us at a young age to accept Skeeter as a normal person who had a disability, a lesson which has stuck with both my brother and myself to this day.
I was 4 years old when we moved to Great Bend and almost 7 when we moved away to Woodward, Oklahoma. During that time, I was a frequent companion of Skeeter, as a child can be, and encouraged by both our moms.
I played checkers and other games with him, and believe me, he was certainly of normal intelligence. I provided the movement of the checkers, but I would ask him which checker he wanted me to move for his turn. Of course, I would ask him all the ones I wanted him to move first, but he would only nod "yes" when it was the most wise move! He was about 20 then, and he did not "let me win" just because I was a little girl. We would take him on strolls in his wheel chair in the neighborhood.
Skeeter was home schooled by his mother. As in those days, there weren't any provisions for public education of the disabled. He was very spastic, and had almost no voluntary control of his arms and legs. He could not feed himself, nor care for himself in any way. He did not have the muscular control of his tongue to talk, and even swallowing was difficult. He could drink through a straw.
Skeeter could make sounds, and had some control over his eye movements and blinking, which were all used to communicate with him.
The loving devotion of Gladys and French was how he survived. Skeeter was moved to a nearby nursing home in his late 20's or early 30's when his dad could no longer lift him in and out of his wheelchair and bed.
Those of us, who were close to him, could carry on a conversation with him, but it required a combination of spelling words a letter at a time, with some "guessing" of what he wanted to say.
After the typewriter was perfected and he learned to use it, it opened up the possibility of him being able to express more of his thoughts, although his typing was still painfully slow. He used a pointed stylus that was strapped to his head, but he even had a bit of a hard time controlling his head movements, too.
So, basically, Skeeter had a normal mind, and normal intelligence, trapped in a spastic body that he had no control over. And his writings reflected what it is like to be in that condition.
I remember that he went to Hays, Kansas, where someone took an interest in him and worked for several years to devise a typewriter keyboard for him so that he could communicate.
----------
When Skeeter was moved to an assisted living facility in Hays, KS, his long-time caregivers Marlene and her husband had an apartment nearby.
Skeeter married Marlene in 1986. With her help, he became an author and wrote several poems and books. Two of these are available at Amazon.com. They are "A cerebral palsy's zest for living" and "Poems and prayers of a cerebral palsy". Both of these were published in 1976.
Skeeter writes:
"One of the crosses . . . is cerebral palsy's jerkiness. . . . My muscles have spasms and my arms and legs jerk wildly until I think I will go mad. "At these moments, I remember Jesus' torturous writhings on the cross. He had horrible muscle spasms which convulsed his entire body. . . . But he endured it silently. "Can I do less with my little contortions with Jesus living within me?
"Another heavy load Jesus helps me carry is requiring someone to care for my every physical need. "Having watched my mother collapse from taking care of me, I know the feeling of being a burden and wanting to die. . . . However, I recall that God humbled himself by being born a babe, and if almighty God stood helplessness, I can stand it too.
"Another cross is waiting for things. I have to wait to go to the bathroom; wait to have my nose cleaned out when I can hardly breathe; wait to be covered when I am cold. In these periods I recall how patiently Jesus suffered on the cross.
"With Jesus' endurance within me, can I do less for Him? I am able to go through all this only thanks to the Eucharist, which is my daily bread, thanks to the fact that Jesus is giving Himself as my most precious and most cherished food'.
--------
My mother was a very close friend of the Rayburn's, and taught us at a young age to accept Skeeter as a normal person who had a disability, a lesson which has stuck with both my brother and myself to this day.
I was 4 years old when we moved to Great Bend and almost 7 when we moved away to Woodward, Oklahoma. During that time, I was a frequent companion of Skeeter, as a child can be, and encouraged by both our moms.
I played checkers and other games with him, and believe me, he was certainly of normal intelligence. I provided the movement of the checkers, but I would ask him which checker he wanted me to move for his turn. Of course, I would ask him all the ones I wanted him to move first, but he would only nod "yes" when it was the most wise move! He was about 20 then, and he did not "let me win" just because I was a little girl. We would take him on strolls in his wheel chair in the neighborhood.
Skeeter was home schooled by his mother. As in those days, there weren't any provisions for public education of the disabled. He was very spastic, and had almost no voluntary control of his arms and legs. He could not feed himself, nor care for himself in any way. He did not have the muscular control of his tongue to talk, and even swallowing was difficult. He could drink through a straw.
Skeeter could make sounds, and had some control over his eye movements and blinking, which were all used to communicate with him.
The loving devotion of Gladys and French was how he survived. Skeeter was moved to a nearby nursing home in his late 20's or early 30's when his dad could no longer lift him in and out of his wheelchair and bed.
Those of us, who were close to him, could carry on a conversation with him, but it required a combination of spelling words a letter at a time, with some "guessing" of what he wanted to say.
After the typewriter was perfected and he learned to use it, it opened up the possibility of him being able to express more of his thoughts, although his typing was still painfully slow. He used a pointed stylus that was strapped to his head, but he even had a bit of a hard time controlling his head movements, too.
So, basically, Skeeter had a normal mind, and normal intelligence, trapped in a spastic body that he had no control over. And his writings reflected what it is like to be in that condition.
I remember that he went to Hays, Kansas, where someone took an interest in him and worked for several years to devise a typewriter keyboard for him so that he could communicate.
----------
When Skeeter was moved to an assisted living facility in Hays, KS, his long-time caregivers Marlene and her husband had an apartment nearby.
Skeeter married Marlene in 1986. With her help, he became an author and wrote several poems and books. Two of these are available at Amazon.com. They are "A cerebral palsy's zest for living" and "Poems and prayers of a cerebral palsy". Both of these were published in 1976.
Skeeter writes:
"One of the crosses . . . is cerebral palsy's jerkiness. . . . My muscles have spasms and my arms and legs jerk wildly until I think I will go mad. "At these moments, I remember Jesus' torturous writhings on the cross. He had horrible muscle spasms which convulsed his entire body. . . . But he endured it silently. "Can I do less with my little contortions with Jesus living within me?
"Another heavy load Jesus helps me carry is requiring someone to care for my every physical need. "Having watched my mother collapse from taking care of me, I know the feeling of being a burden and wanting to die. . . . However, I recall that God humbled himself by being born a babe, and if almighty God stood helplessness, I can stand it too.
"Another cross is waiting for things. I have to wait to go to the bathroom; wait to have my nose cleaned out when I can hardly breathe; wait to be covered when I am cold. In these periods I recall how patiently Jesus suffered on the cross.
"With Jesus' endurance within me, can I do less for Him? I am able to go through all this only thanks to the Eucharist, which is my daily bread, thanks to the fact that Jesus is giving Himself as my most precious and most cherished food'.
The following comments are extracted from those made by neighbor and family friend, Suzanne (Brignac) Graas formally of Great Bend, KS.
--------
My mother was a very close friend of the Rayburn's, and taught us at a young age to accept Skeeter as a normal person who had a disability, a lesson which has stuck with both my brother and myself to this day.
I was 4 years old when we moved to Great Bend and almost 7 when we moved away to Woodward, Oklahoma. During that time, I was a frequent companion of Skeeter, as a child can be, and encouraged by both our moms.
I played checkers and other games with him, and believe me, he was certainly of normal intelligence. I provided the movement of the checkers, but I would ask him which checker he wanted me to move for his turn. Of course, I would ask him all the ones I wanted him to move first, but he would only nod "yes" when it was the most wise move! He was about 20 then, and he did not "let me win" just because I was a little girl. We would take him on strolls in his wheel chair in the neighborhood.
Skeeter was home schooled by his mother. As in those days, there weren't any provisions for public education of the disabled. He was very spastic, and had almost no voluntary control of his arms and legs. He could not feed himself, nor care for himself in any way. He did not have the muscular control of his tongue to talk, and even swallowing was difficult. He could drink through a straw.
Skeeter could make sounds, and had some control over his eye movements and blinking, which were all used to communicate with him.
The loving devotion of Gladys and French was how he survived. Skeeter was moved to a nearby nursing home in his late 20's or early 30's when his dad could no longer lift him in and out of his wheelchair and bed.
Those of us, who were close to him, could carry on a conversation with him, but it required a combination of spelling words a letter at a time, with some "guessing" of what he wanted to say.
After the typewriter was perfected and he learned to use it, it opened up the possibility of him being able to express more of his thoughts, although his typing was still painfully slow. He used a pointed stylus that was strapped to his head, but he even had a bit of a hard time controlling his head movements, too.
So, basically, Skeeter had a normal mind, and normal intelligence, trapped in a spastic body that he had no control over. And his writings reflected what it is like to be in that condition.
I remember that he went to Hays, Kansas, where someone took an interest in him and worked for several years to devise a typewriter keyboard for him so that he could communicate.
----------
When Skeeter was moved to an assisted living facility in Hays, KS, his long-time caregivers Marlene and her husband had an apartment nearby.
Skeeter married Marlene in 1986. With her help, he became an author and wrote several poems and books. Two of these are available at Amazon.com. They are "A cerebral palsy's zest for living" and "Poems and prayers of a cerebral palsy". Both of these were published in 1976.
Skeeter writes:
"One of the crosses . . . is cerebral palsy's jerkiness. . . . My muscles have spasms and my arms and legs jerk wildly until I think I will go mad. "At these moments, I remember Jesus' torturous writhings on the cross. He had horrible muscle spasms which convulsed his entire body. . . . But he endured it silently. "Can I do less with my little contortions with Jesus living within me?
"Another heavy load Jesus helps me carry is requiring someone to care for my every physical need. "Having watched my mother collapse from taking care of me, I know the feeling of being a burden and wanting to die. . . . However, I recall that God humbled himself by being born a babe, and if almighty God stood helplessness, I can stand it too.
"Another cross is waiting for things. I have to wait to go to the bathroom; wait to have my nose cleaned out when I can hardly breathe; wait to be covered when I am cold. In these periods I recall how patiently Jesus suffered on the cross.
"With Jesus' endurance within me, can I do less for Him? I am able to go through all this only thanks to the Eucharist, which is my daily bread, thanks to the fact that Jesus is giving Himself as my most precious and most cherished food'.
--------
My mother was a very close friend of the Rayburn's, and taught us at a young age to accept Skeeter as a normal person who had a disability, a lesson which has stuck with both my brother and myself to this day.
I was 4 years old when we moved to Great Bend and almost 7 when we moved away to Woodward, Oklahoma. During that time, I was a frequent companion of Skeeter, as a child can be, and encouraged by both our moms.
I played checkers and other games with him, and believe me, he was certainly of normal intelligence. I provided the movement of the checkers, but I would ask him which checker he wanted me to move for his turn. Of course, I would ask him all the ones I wanted him to move first, but he would only nod "yes" when it was the most wise move! He was about 20 then, and he did not "let me win" just because I was a little girl. We would take him on strolls in his wheel chair in the neighborhood.
Skeeter was home schooled by his mother. As in those days, there weren't any provisions for public education of the disabled. He was very spastic, and had almost no voluntary control of his arms and legs. He could not feed himself, nor care for himself in any way. He did not have the muscular control of his tongue to talk, and even swallowing was difficult. He could drink through a straw.
Skeeter could make sounds, and had some control over his eye movements and blinking, which were all used to communicate with him.
The loving devotion of Gladys and French was how he survived. Skeeter was moved to a nearby nursing home in his late 20's or early 30's when his dad could no longer lift him in and out of his wheelchair and bed.
Those of us, who were close to him, could carry on a conversation with him, but it required a combination of spelling words a letter at a time, with some "guessing" of what he wanted to say.
After the typewriter was perfected and he learned to use it, it opened up the possibility of him being able to express more of his thoughts, although his typing was still painfully slow. He used a pointed stylus that was strapped to his head, but he even had a bit of a hard time controlling his head movements, too.
So, basically, Skeeter had a normal mind, and normal intelligence, trapped in a spastic body that he had no control over. And his writings reflected what it is like to be in that condition.
I remember that he went to Hays, Kansas, where someone took an interest in him and worked for several years to devise a typewriter keyboard for him so that he could communicate.
----------
When Skeeter was moved to an assisted living facility in Hays, KS, his long-time caregivers Marlene and her husband had an apartment nearby.
Skeeter married Marlene in 1986. With her help, he became an author and wrote several poems and books. Two of these are available at Amazon.com. They are "A cerebral palsy's zest for living" and "Poems and prayers of a cerebral palsy". Both of these were published in 1976.
Skeeter writes:
"One of the crosses . . . is cerebral palsy's jerkiness. . . . My muscles have spasms and my arms and legs jerk wildly until I think I will go mad. "At these moments, I remember Jesus' torturous writhings on the cross. He had horrible muscle spasms which convulsed his entire body. . . . But he endured it silently. "Can I do less with my little contortions with Jesus living within me?
"Another heavy load Jesus helps me carry is requiring someone to care for my every physical need. "Having watched my mother collapse from taking care of me, I know the feeling of being a burden and wanting to die. . . . However, I recall that God humbled himself by being born a babe, and if almighty God stood helplessness, I can stand it too.
"Another cross is waiting for things. I have to wait to go to the bathroom; wait to have my nose cleaned out when I can hardly breathe; wait to be covered when I am cold. In these periods I recall how patiently Jesus suffered on the cross.
"With Jesus' endurance within me, can I do less for Him? I am able to go through all this only thanks to the Eucharist, which is my daily bread, thanks to the fact that Jesus is giving Himself as my most precious and most cherished food'.
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