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The little boy smiled at Mrs. Reynolds as he prayed: . . and God bless everyone . . . specially Mrs. Reynolds . . . and Dr. Jellinek . . . and Jerry Lewis.” And he told her his secret wish and said his special prayer. After that, Mrs. Reynolds made a phone call. A few days later —
JERRY LEWIS HELPS ANSWER
A LITTLE BOY’S PRAYER
The little boy gripped the arms of the wheel chair and turned his head away. Now he couldn’t see the jumble of letters and cards and torn gift wrappings that surrounded the other kids. But he could still hear their loud, happy voices as they jabbered away to the parents and friends who had come to visit them at the Massachusetts Lakeville Sanitarium for Handicapped Children. “So what,” he told himself. “I don’t care. I don’t need . . .” But he did care — oh, ever so much — and his need was even greater than any of the others’. His big brown eyes were wide with tears and they fell unheeded down his cheeks and onto the striped pajamas. He hated himself for crying, and that only made the tears come faster.
“What’s the matter, Little Boy Blue?” a gentle voice asked.
The boy looked up and saw his friend, Mrs. Shaw Reynolds. He tried to answer but he just couldn’t.
She touched his face lightly and her hand, as always,
felt cool and nice. He let his face cradle against her fingers and slowly his crying stopped.
“That’s better,” Mrs. Reynolds said, “much better. You want to be a great jet pilot some day. And you know jet pilots don’t cry. Can’t see the instrument panel through tears, can you?”
“No,” said the boy, “you can’t. But I’m not a pilot yet. I’ll have to wait till I’m big, big like Dr. Jellinek, before I can fly. But I’m getting bigger and bigger. Why, I’ll be nine years old Tuesday. Won’t I?”
“Yes, you will ... on Tuesday,” Mrs. Reynolds said. And then the little boy looked away from her, back at the other kids.
She watched him as he watched the others. The expression on his face as he looked at the children playing with their toys, reading their cards aloud, and talking with their mothers and fathers, was heartbreaking. It was bad enough, she thought, that Little Boy Blue (the hospital records listed him simply as Francis X.) was suffering ( Continued on page 81)
by DEE PHILLIPS