Yeah, that's basically what I knew. I was googling for more details, but there don't seem to be very many out there. One person claiming that she wasn't ever disabled at all, and that the rages were actually signs of mental illness, and Joe made up the story about retardation because that was more acceptable.

I also read a few excerpts from her teenage diaries, which were fairly boring. She went to parties, went to movies, went to dress fittings. Once met President Roosevelt. Went to a racetrack with one of her sisters and bet $1.50 on a horse. There are also a few "experts" trying to estimate her IQ, which seems rather ridiculous. (Most of the estimates are saying somewhere between 75 and 90.)

Ooof. Trying to find some details about Rosemary's childhood, I found the internet crazy. Someone wants to know why Edward M. Kennedy goes by the alias Ted Kennedy, speculates that Ted sexually abused Rosemary throughout her childhood (he's 14 years younger than her, and he was 9 when she was institutionalized), and claims that Ted got JFK to join NAMBLA.

One person claiming that she wasn't ever disabled at all, and that the rages were actually signs of mental illness, and Joe made up the story about retardation because that was more acceptable.

In old photos she sort of looks, well, slow...

I'd heard the Joe was abusing her theory. Try and keep your baseless slander straight, people.

In old photos she sort of looks, well, slow...

Most of what I'm reading says that, as a child and teenager, she was a bit below average and in a family where every child was expected to excel. Also sweet and good-natured and in a family where the kids were supposed to be ruthlessly competitive. Eunice wrote that they'd have sailing races at Hyannis, and she and Rosemary would partner in a two-man boat, and that she would be screaming directions at Rosemary and Rosemary would take a bit too long to react, and then when their father asked how they did and Eunice said they came in third, he would yell at them for not winning.

However imperfectly they treated Rosemary, the fact that they publicly acknowledged her existence made it less shameful for other families to acknowledge their own developmentally disabled children - making it less the done thing to simply send them away to institutions where they would be badly raised by strangers.

However imperfectly they treated Rosemary, the fact that they publicly acknowledged her existence made it less shameful for other families to acknowledge their own developmentally disabled children - making it less the done thing to simply send them away to institutions where they would be badly raised by strangers.

Very much yes. I read the article that Eunice wrote in the Saturday Evening Post, and in that writing she's working really hard just to convince people that the developmentally disabled can be taught to do things like mow lawns. The conditions at the institutions she describes are horrible. She also worked to put a lot of money and people toward research.

(Although it did take them a while to acknowledge her publicly. After she was institutionalized, they explained her disappearance by saying that she'd gone to be a teacher, or joined a convent, or a few other stories, until 1962, after a few reporters had found out the truth.)

I read the article that Eunice wrote in the Saturday Evening Post, and in that writing she's working really hard just to convince people that the developmentally disabled can be taught to do things like mow lawns. The conditions at the institutions she describes are horrible.

It's why I love my work so much. That now the goal is to bring each and every one of these people up to whatever their highest possible levels of skills are, is what makes this something that feeds my soul, rather than being an endless drain. The homes I work at, are homes - modest number of people living there, comfortable, ordinary furniture, decorations on the walls, stuff taped to the fridge. There's gentle squabbling over the bathroom, kind gestures from one resident to another and sometimes to staff, card games played, the occasional argument, housework done together, crafts, hobbies, books to read, meals discussed and planned at least sometimes by the residents. The most powerful behavior management tool I have at my disposal is humor. I will never touch a fire hose, or lock someone in a room for hours, alone in the dark.

I know nothing of Rosemary Kennedy's story, but reading some of it here has reminded me why I'm committed to disability rights and the Independent Living Movement.

Talking of which, I'm interviewing potential personal care assistants today and tomorrow. That should be fun. I've spent all week weeding out the crazies from the application e-mails (usually including people who want to be my friend, or have said how very sorry they are that I'm disabled - heh). Now I get to see if I chose interview candidates well...

[Wrong thread, you didn't see me, I was never here.]

Much exam~ma, Shir.