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Standing Tall

Little People Making It In A Big World

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At first, attending the recent Little People of America (LPA) Christmas party in McAdenville was another of those surreal experiences reporters get used to. After a while, though, I realized that the "surreal" feeling was actually the result of my having come to the party with some preconceived notions I hadn't been aware of. While I'm not quite sure what I was expecting -- some kind of little people alternative reality, perhaps -- I found myself feeling surprised that my fellow partygoers led such "normal" lives. They go to school, have careers, pay bills, give birth, raise kids, go grocery shopping, drive cars, party on the weekends -- just like the rest of the world. My impression that they were somehow going to be different is probably a notion shared by a lot of folks -- a notion that annoys little people to no end.

Having said that, there's also no denying that some fundamental differences do exist. When you're three-foot-five, your life experiences are going to be different from someone who is six feet tall. After all, how many folks can relate to having the light switches lowered for them as kids, or their dad customizing their bike to fit their small frame? Then there are the everyday realities little people face, like driving a car, using an ATM machine, being able to reach the paper towels in a public bathroom, or more serious issues like job discrimination.

Fortunately, through the enactment of various civil rights and disability acts, and organizations (such as dwarfism.org) that sell an array of products like little people furniture, clothes and car pedal extensions, many of those issues are being addressed. Yet there is no body of law that addresses being stared or laughed at, or feeling isolated and ridiculed. One common trait among the little people I talked to is the fact that their most painful experiences come from how the rest of the world treats them. But because they're so accustomed to putting up with other people's ignorance and cruelty, most are remarkably resilient and have learned to take the looks and rude comments in stride and with a sense of humor. Moreover, most say they wouldn't change being a dwarf for anything. In fact, many consider themselves lucky.

One such person is Debra Rick. The first time I met Debra, she was peering out from behind the screen door of her Mt. Holly home, her head barely visible above the door's lower partition. Debra, 42, was born with a rare form of congenital dwarfism that doctors have yet to diagnose.

"What can I say, I'm one of a kind," she says.

Debra stands three feet five inches tall and has slight appendages for arms.

"My mother said the whole time she was pregnant with me I was just a slight tickle in her womb. When I was born, my aunt, who was a nurse, started screaming. They had never seen anything like me."

Today, Debra, a mother herself, has traveled the world, met "millionaires and celebrities," and accomplished just about all her dreams. Indeed, despite some seemingly insurmountable obstacles, she has lived a remarkable life, by anyone's standards. Because Debra was born and raised in Mt. Holly, she knew most of her classmates, and says school was relatively painless.

"The hardest part was just trying to keep up with everybody," she says.

After high school, Debra attended Belmont Abbey College, where she graduated in 1981 with a political science degree. It was after college that Debra said she first experienced real prejudice and discrimination.

"Suddenly doors were being slammed in my face," she said. "They would tell me I'd give the company a bad image, and I'd be better off staying home. Or they'd tell me the position was filled, and I'd call back a few days later and it was still open. I'd say look, I have an education, I'm well read, just give me a chance, but they didn't understand. That was a very depressing time in my life."

Finally Debra landed a teaching job at a local elementary school. "All the kids were my size, so it worked out really well," she said. "I love working with children. If you can teach a child to be open and understanding, you've made the world a better place."

Debra taught school for several years during which time she got married. In 1986 she gave birth to her son, Justin, who is average-size. She said it nearly killed her. "It took me three years to recover from the birth."

Debra has since divorced her husband, and remains very self-sufficient even as she deals with all the usual challenges of single motherhood. However, she says her biggest challenge continues to be dealing with the cluelessnes of others.

"There are some people out there who are just ignorant and cruel," she says. "It seems like the world used to be a nicer place."

Debra said she seems to attract people who have lost hope, and they look to her for strength and inspiration. She recounts one incident that occurred recently while she was shopping at Eckerds.

"A gentleman struck up a conversation with me, and commented on how cheerful I seemed," Debra said. "He was quiet for a few seconds, then he suddenly told me that when he had gotten up that morning he decided he was going to kill himself. He felt like life had no meaning.

"'But then I saw you'" he said. "'And I started thinking that if she can be so positive and happy then so can I.'"

This knack for inspiring hope in others has enabled Debra to travel all over the world doing speaking engagements and visiting church groups and other organizations. In 1998, while on tour with network marketing giant Dexter Yager, she met NBA star Isiah Thomas ("I came up to his kneecaps"), and motivational speakers Zig Zigler and Les Brown.

"None of this would have been possible unless I had been born a little person," she says. "I truly consider myself lucky."

We Don't Live In Dollhouses

Hank the angry, drunken (and now dead) dwarf, Willy Wonka's Oompa Loompas, dwarf tossing, the Lollipop Kids from The Wizard of Oz the seven dwarfs from Snow White -- public images of little people are almost always of a comical, fantastical, and some would say offensive, nature. It's no surprise that P.T. Barnum, "The Greatest Showman on Earth," was responsible for one of the earliest known examples of displaying a little person for the sake of public entertainment.

It was in the mid-1800s when Barnum discovered four-year-old Charles Sherwood Stratton. As a youth, Stratton was only 25 inches tall and weighed 15 pounds. Barnum persuaded Stratton's parents to let the boy join his museum in New York City in 1842. Barnum then took him to Europe in 1844, where he entertained royalty and caused a sensation. Stratton, who adopted the moniker General Tom Thumb, eventually grew to be 40 inches tall and weighed 70 pounds. He toured with Barnum's circus until 1881. He died two years later. This is where the term "circus midget" originated, and greatly contributed to the word "midget" being associated with exploitation. It's a word that has fallen into disfavor among little people.

Technically, "midget" is a term used to describe a little person who is of proportionate stature. However, most little people consider the term offensive, and prefer such terms as dwarf or a person of short stature. "Dwarf" is actually an abridged form of the word "dwarfism," a medical term used to describe a genetic condition resulting in short stature.

People with dwarfism have abnormal body proportions. While the torso and body organs are all relatively normal size, the arms, legs, fingers and toes are disproportionately short. The facial features include a large head with a prominent forehead. The midface is often small with a flat nasal bridge and narrow nasal passages. As someone with dwarfism ages, the legs usually assume a bow-legged appearance known as varus. Dwarfism occurs as the result of an underdeveloped skeleton. The growth of the bony skeleton depends on the formation of cartilage. Dwarfism results when the cartilage cells do not grow and divide properly, usually because of a cellular defect or interference. Chromosome-related dwarfism results when all the cells of the body are defective. If a cell has an extra chromosome or is missing part of a chromosome, growth may be affected.

A person with a deficiency of any of the major growth-promoting hormones is usually normally proportioned but much shorter than other members of his or her family. Such people appear much younger than their actual age and grow at a slower rate than normal. They reach their final height and may become sexually mature in their mid-20s. Proportionate dwarfism can be treated medically.

While it varies from condition to condition, the overwhelming majority of little people enjoy normal intelligence, normal life spans, and reasonably good health. In fact, people with dwarfism achieve the same range of career paths as average-size persons, including doctors, lawyers, ministers, teachers, welders, and artists. However, orthopedic and respiratory complications are not unusual in people with disproportionate dwarfism, and sometimes surgery is required.

By far the most common form of short-limbed dwarfism is called achondroplasia. It occurs in approximately 1 in 40,000 births. Jim and Pam Gildersleeve have this genetic condition. The Gildersleeves live in a nice, airy house in Highland Creek. They settled there a few years ago after getting married. The two met in 1983 in Baton Rouge, LA when Jim, fresh out of college, started working at a bank across the street from a clothing store owned by Pam's family.

"My sisters told me to go over and meet him," Pam said. She did, and the two became good friends. However, romance was not yet in the cards. In 1989 Jim left Baton Rouge and moved to Pittsburgh, and the two friends lost touch. Jim was transferred to Charlotte in '96, and two years later attended an LPA convention in Atlanta. He was strolling across the lobby of the hotel that was hosting the convention when he spotted Pam. It was the first time they had seen each other in over six years, and sparks flew. "That was it," Jim said.

The couple married less than a year later, and settled into their new home in Highland Creek. Then, a little over eight months ago, Pam (who stands four-feet- three, Jim is two inches taller) gave birth to Campbell James Gildersleeve. Both Jim and Pam knew having a child was a risky proposition. A person with achondroplasia has one dwarfism gene and one "average-size" gene. If both parents have achondroplasia (as Jim and Pam do) there is a 25 percent chance their child will inherit the non-dwarfism gene from each parent and thus be average-size. There's a 50 percent chance the child will inherit one dwarfism gene and one non-dwarfism gene and thus have achondroplasia. And there is a 25 percent chance the child will inherit both dwarfism genes, a condition known a double-dominant syndrome, which invariably ends in death at birth or shortly thereafter. (Conversely, average-size people can give birth to dwarf children. In fact most people with dwarfism are born to average-size parents with no history of dwarfism in the family. It's simply a matter of the recessive dwarf gene making an appearance.)

"All we wanted was a healthy baby," Pam said. "We would have welcomed a little baby. But when the doctors told us he didn't have the dwarf gene and is average size, we both just started laughing. It was a huge relief."

And not just a huge relief because of medical reasons (Pam's had five spinal surgeries; Jim's had spinal and leg surgery) but because they both know what it's like growing up a dwarf.

"It wasn't that hard until I started public school," Pam explained. "I was the youngest of five kids and had all the protection I needed. But then, on the first day of high school. . .it was the worst day of my entire life. Somebody, believe it or not, thought it would be funny to dump me upside down into a big trash can. But I didn't let her get that far. Once everyone got to know me, it was fine. By the time I got to college, if anybody said anything I would turn around and tell them where they could go."

Jim had it a little easier. "I had the luxury of going to school with the same people from kindergarten through high school," he said. "In college I had a ball. I had a couple of classes with basketball players and we were the best of friends. If the halls were crowded they would pick me up on their shoulders and carry me."

When asked about dating while in high school and college, both admit they didn't exactly have the busiest social calendar with members of the opposite sex.

"It wasn't fun," Pam said.

"It was tough," Jim agreed. "I pretty much wrote it off. I didn't worry about proms and stuff like that in high school. In college I actually dated an average size girl for a while, but that didn't work out."

Both Jim and Pam seem to have developed a good sense of humor about their dwarfism and take a lot in stride. However, they said, some days are still a struggle.

"There are some mornings when I get up and the prospect of facing the world is tough," Jim said. "But you can't let it bother you because otherwise you would never leave the house."

"There's something everyday -- a look, a comment. But you learn to live with it," Pam said. "What really gets me is when the kids -- and it's not their fault -- say, 'Mommy, daddy, look at the midgets,' and the parents just turn around and stare. That's when I fly off the handle. If you're curious or have any questions, just come and ask us. We don't live in dollhouses. We eat, drink and go to the bathroom just like everybody else."

Frankie Finley can relate all too well to many of the Gildersleeves'

experiences. Finley is a 17-year old junior at Vance High School who has achondroplasia. He stands four-feet-four inches tall. He talks about what it was like growing up with dwarfism.

"When I first started to realize I was different, I noticed people staring all the time. It was really tough. But I've grown accustomed to it. I hardly notice it now. If people want to stare, let them stare. Emotionally, though, it's hard when people judge you by the outside and not the inside. But a lot of times people are intrigued, and they'll ask me questions and we end up being friends. I always tell people, just because I'm short doesn't mean I'm from a different planet."

In fact, Frankie, who plans to open a day care center after he graduates high school, has become so adept at dealing with other people, he helps his mom, Harvetta, better cope with certain situations.

"If we're out at the mall or something and people are giving him a hard time, I usually get much more upset than Frankie," Harvetta said. "But he's helped me learn to let that stuff just roll off my back. It does hit me sometimes when I drop him off at school and so many of the kids are so much bigger than he is. It kind of concerns me that he has to deal with that everyday. But, thankfully, he can take care of himself."

Little People Of The World Unite

Little People of America is the largest organization in the world devoted to people of short stature, which usually includes folks who are no taller than four-feet-ten inches. Their short stature is generally caused by one of the more than 200 forms of the genetic condition dwarfism. LPA has more than 7,000 members nationwide, including several hundred here in the Carolinas. The organization started in 1957 when well-known actor and entertainer Billy Barty made a national public appeal for all little people in America to join him for a gathering in Reno, Nevada. About 20 other little people showed up, and LPA was formed. Today, LPA provides support and information to people of short stature and their families. Membership is also available to relatives and interested professionals who work with short-statured individuals. LPA will assist dwarfs with their physical and developmental concerns by providing medical, environmental, educational, vocational, and parental guidance. The LPA also provides a network of national and international growth-related and genetic-support groups. There are more than 50 local chapters -- including the Carolinian Chapter -- that have regular monthly meetings. Each district has regional conferences that are held twice a year.

In addition to providing professional and medical guidance, the LPA also has a big social and dating component. To hear members describe it, the annual LPA conference -- which usually attracts more than 1,000 members -- can be a real party.

"It's crazy," said Frankie, who has been attending the annual conferences for the past 12 years. "It's a whole different world. Nobody is staring. It's all people who can understand what you're going through. It's great to see other people like me. I think it's awesome."

And while the annual conventions provide a great opportunity for members to get together and socialize, some report that at first it can be a shock.

"Your first convention can be really freaky," Jim said,

"For the first few days it's horrible," Pam said. "I wanted to get out of there. I was thinking, 'I do not look like these people. I don't sound like these people.' I was miserable. But then you start to realize that everyone is going through the same thing I am. After that, it's party time."

"At first I thought, "My God, do I actually look that way,'" Debra said. "It was a total shock. I thought I didn't belong. But then you realize you're all dealing with lots of the same issues.

"I've found that most people live in their own little comfort zone, and are ignorant to things around them," Debra continued. "Most little people don't have the luxury of that comfort zone. I really feel that I've been blessed. I've seen so many things and met so many people. Life has been one big opportunity."

For more information about Little People of America, check out www.LPAonline.org. For information about the local chapter, go to www.midnet.sc/edu/carolinianlpa. *

Contact Sam Boykin at (704) 944-3623 or sam.boykin@cln.com.