Appreciating our differences

The Boston Globe

Beverly Beckham

Kristen Franks loves her sister Jacqueline. She loves her wit and her compassion and her work ethic and her tenacity.

She loves that Jacqueline has a job where she is valued and appreciated, and that the people she works with respect and admire her.

Kristen's love for Jacqueline is full of quiet pride. See all that she is. All that she does. See how people like her. See how easy she is to like. This is what her eyes say.

When Jacqueline was born, 28 years ago, a doctor told her parents to institutionalize her. She might never walk. She might never talk. She would definitely never fit into the world.

Jacqueline was born with Down syndrome, a genetic variation caused by the presence of an extra chromosome, which causes delays in physical, intellectual, and language development. Down syndrome. That's all this doctor saw.

But her parents saw a child they cherished. So they took her home and introduced her to her 2-year-old sister.

Two years later, a third daughter, Jennifer, was born. And life for this young Brighton family got even crazier.

But life was good. Jacqueline did all the things her sisters did. It took her extra time, but all three girls went to school and made their First Holy Communion at St. Columbkille's and learned to ride bikes and swim and dance and take buses and make their beds and read and write and do all the things that most kids do. They graduated from Boston public schools. They all have jobs they love. And they're all involved in one another's lives.

Jacqueline's been working at Boston City Hall for six years. She is executive assistant to Councilor Mark Ciommo. Kristen says her sister has thrived there.

Jacqueline thrives everywhere. When she's not working, she's swimming. Or reading. Or listening to music. Or talking to her friends. Or visiting her favorite person in the world, her 10-month-old niece, Olivia.

If only the doctor who gave up on Jacqueline 28 years ago could see her now, a pretty young woman walking around City Hall. A smiling blonde talking to her co-workers. An executive assistant hunched over her work, deep in thought. A proud and devoted aunt.

This weekend, the Massachusetts Down Syndrome Congress is holding its 27th Annual Conference in Worcester, and Kristen Franks is sharing her story about life with her sister. ``My sister Jacqueline has been my inspiration most of my life,'' is the beginning of her essay, which can be accessed at ndss.org. (Click on ``My Great Story,'' then search for ``Jacqueline Franks the Public Servant.'')

Tomorrow is World Down Syndrome Day, March 21 - or 3/21 - chosen because it represents three copies of chromosome 21, which people with Down syndrome have. It's a non-event day for most people, like World Refugee Day (June 20) or Human Rights Day (Dec. 10), because the truth is you don't care about these things unless you have a reason to care.

A 7-year-old is my reason. My granddaughter Lucy Rose has Down syndrome. She's in first grade. She can sing the whole score of ``Annie,'' but it's hard to understand what she's singing.

Most kids pick up things by osmosis. It takes Lucy time and repetition and patience and inordinate energy to do what comes so easily to most everyone - to be understood, to catch a ball, to climb a jungle gym. I watch her try and try and try and try and I am amazed at how she never quits. How she keeps right on practicing. How she perseveres.

And when she gets it? When she says a complete sentence? When she sings ``Tomorrow'' clearly and perfectly?

There is nothing better.

This is the goal of World Down Syndrome Day, to make those who don't know aware that people with Down syndrome are valuable and worth the extra time it takes to teach them.

This is the goal of Kristen Franks's story about her sister, too, and the goal of Down syndrome organizations and advocates everywhere: to show the world what educators and family and community, combined with love and acceptance and friendship, can do.