Her Name was Charlotte by Roberta Lacey

My mother was sweet and sensitive to the especially those whose psyche may be   fragile.

feelings of others, Perhaps that is why she would encourage me to go over and spend a little time with Charlotte.   I, a nine year old, had plans of my own, as in riding my bike, seeing my friend, Eleanor, and playing with paper dolls. Charlotte was not on my selfish agenda that day or any other day. But with a little prompting, I crossed the street in my quiet neighborhood in Bayside, L.I. to visit Charlotte. She sat on her front stoop alone, under the watchful eye of her mom.  I could see her mother as she moved the curtain to check on her daughter from time to time. When I said "hello" to Charlotte, she smiled her nervous smile. She seemed so happy that she had a possible playmate. She said "my name is Charlotte". I did not remind her that I already knew.

Charlotte was plump, short, with thinnish brown hair mixed with gray.  Her answers were generally in monosyllables, but always with a smile on her face.      I would guess this woman/child was in her  mid forties, now that I look back.    My mom would never ask the age of her neighbor's only child.   However, we kids were curious. Charlotte's mother opened the door and asked if we would like to play checkers. Charlotte beamed with delight at that suggestion.     How could I say anything but "yes"?   Surprisingly, Charlotte was well adapted to the game which I'm sure she played many times a day with her elderly parents.

After about the second or third game I said "I have to go, now".

She smiled and said "bye"  to my farewell.   After my lunch I hastily went through the alley way to see Eleanor at the house directly  behind ours.  We enjoyed cutting out paper dolls from the previous week's Sunday funny sheets.   Tillie The Toiler had many stylish dresses to cut out and add  to her wardrobe.   Sometimes I'd join the kids on the next street to see the Saturday matinee; mostly westerns. Most Saturdays I'd see Charlotte sitting on her front stoop alone or with her mother.   I'd wave if she was looking  my way.  Sometimes I'd go over for a visit and then the inevitable game of checkers came out, to Charlotte's delight.

2.

As a kid, I did not know the meaning of the words guile or averice.           This woman/child was incapable of either.     Even when she watched us kids play "cops and robbers" in summer twilight, it seemed she took pleasure in seeing our wild antics, just as if she, herself, was in the game.

In those days no one had a name for what caused this sweet soul to develop childlike in an adult body.   She did not have Downes Syndrome.   Mentally challenged  would  be  a generic name  for                   her handicap. Her disposition was sweet and kind.   She must have been precious in her parent's eyes and most especially in the Eyes of God.

Sometimes other kids would walk by her house, staring and pointing at her, but would only wave when she smiled and said "my name is Charlotte.