Sunday, October 25, 2026

The Unfit (article) (part 1) by Leanne Dyck

The history of the disabled in Canada.

photo by ldyck

The Unfit

    In the beginning, children with disabilities were literally kept hidden. Parents were often torn between a love for children and a shame or desperation that often led them to send sons and daughters away to institutions. Some were even advised by doctors to “pretend this one died and go on with your life.” Some parents found that because of a lack of resources, and pressure from others, they were simply unable to keep their child at home. The parents who refused to send their child away were often left with the soul-destroying task of facing an uninformed public—including their own family and friends—and trying to meet their child’s needs without service or support. With such a gloomy start, it is no wonder society has struggled with how it views people with disabilities and how it responds to the needs of families. [1]

    During the 1800s, young persons with special needs were excluded from the education system and deemed burdens, often confined to institutions where they festered away in isolation. Though some arguments were made about this being for their own good, the most prominent rationale was that exclusion and institutionalization would prevent persons with special needs from tainting the general population. [2]

    The “Orillia Asylum for Idiots” (1861-2009) [Orillia, Ontario], Canada’s oldest and largest facility for the care and protection of children and adults with disabilities, was once praised as a beacon of humanitarian progress… [But f]ar from being for child protection and care...Orillia Asylum was a site for multi-faceted and all-encompassing violence[—]...systemic neglect and cultural discrimination, daily humiliation and dehumanization, and physical, sexual, and emotional abuse…

    [H]ow [could] such violence...occur for so long in a facility maintained by the state, a state invested in protecting children[?]…

    [C]hildren who were admitted to the Orillia Asylum were not considered to be “Canada’s children” at all by virtue of being labelled as “mentally deficient”, “feeble-minded”, “not-quite-human” and “not-quite-children.” [3]

    Feeble-minded was a term used from the late 19th century through the early 20th century to loosely describe a variety of mental deficiencies, including what would now be considered [the intellectually disabled]…, and learning [differences] such as dyslexia. [4]


Most people go to work
Very few people turn that work into a passion.
I think you can go to work without making a living.
I think those who turn work into passion are blessed.
And as a dyslexic child, I had to work at reading, work at writing.
Now, as an adult, it has become my passion.

October 25, 2026, 5:23 PM PT


    

As you may have noticed, I like to assign pictures to each list of monthly blog offers. 

September? Leaves, of course. 

October? Pumpikins, duh. 

But November... How I love it, so. It's my birthday month. 

But November. Dear darling November, you threw me for a loop.

 November? I settled for gloves. 


photo ldyck



On this blog in November


Sunday, November 1
The Unfit
(part 2)
the history of disabled Canadians

Sunday, November 8
November (poem)
a poem in praise of November

Sunday, November 15
Book Review: All The Light You Cannot See by Anthony Doerr 
(historical fiction)
Set in the Second World War, is about a short boy with a huge heart who tried to do what he thought was right and a blind girl who did what she could.

Sunday, November 22
DisAbled Advocacy: Sharing Our Truth (essay)
(part 1)
the history of the disabled advocacy in Canada

New content is published on my blog 

every Sunday at 

4:40 PM (ish) Pacific Time.


Sunday, October 18, 2026

Playing with Robin (children's story) by Leanne Dyck

When I was a child, I had a friend with Down syndrome. Robin taught me a lot of things. "Playing with Robin" is a tribute to her memory.


photo by ldyck

Playing With Robin


    I'm playing outside when Robin rides up on the bike; she calls her horse. "My cat had kittens; want to see?"

    Of course, I do.

    "Follow me," she calls. Robin rides away really fast because her legs are so long. She looks like a grown-up, but she's a lot more fun.

    I'm out of breath when we reach Robin's house.

    The kittens are in a cozy box in Robin's bedroom. "Look with your eyes," Robin tells me. "If you promise to be gentle, I'll give you one."

    "I promise," I say.

    She picks up a tiny kitten and hands it to me.

    Its fur is so soft and... "Oh, she's so cute. Can I keep her?"

    "No." Robin takes the kitten. "It belongs with its mom."

    Robin takes a box down from a shelf. Inside are stamps and different colours of ink: pink and green and blue and purple and... Robin uses a cat stamp to put a picture on her paper. She does it again and again and again. Now the paper is full of cats. "You try," she tells me.

I pick a stamp that looks like a paw print. I press it onto the ink and then onto the paper, but it doesn't look like a paw print.

    "You have to press hard. Here, I'll help you." Robin puts her hand on top of mine, and we press the stamp really hard onto the purple ink pad. Now I can see all the paw prints. Robin shows me how to clean the stamp so that I can add other colours. I add blue, green, and pink ink. It looks like a cat walked on a rainbow and then onto my paper. "You can take that picture home." Robin smiles at me.

    Robin takes a small black box off a shelf. "Want to see something really cool?" She finds a jar of coins and holds it so I can take one. "Put the penny on there." When I do, a hand slides out of the box and takes the penny. "Don't be scared," Robin says. "It's not a real hand. It's just for pretend." She gives me another penny, the hand comes out again, and we laugh.

"Where does the money go?" I ask, and Robin says, "In the box. Someday I'm going to get a hammer to break the box, and then I'll be rich."

    The kittens...the toys...she's already rich.

    "Snack time," Robin's mom calls.

    Orange juice and cookies wait for us on the kitchen table.

    I finish my cookie and look out the window. My brother is coming to take me home.

    "My boyfriend," Robin cheers.

    I hope she marries my brother so we can play together forever.



photo by ldyck




On this blog in October


Sunday, October 4
Guest Blogger: Judee Fong for "Murder on the Menu" 
(part 1)
a 2-part countdown to the publication of "Murder on the Menu" 

Sunday, October 11
Guest Blogger: Judee Fong for "Murder on the Menu" 
(part 2)
a 2-part countdown to the publication of "Murder on the Menu" 

Sunday, October 18
Playing with Robin (children's story)
about my childhood friendship with Robin—
a woman with Down syndrome

Sunday, October 25
The Unfit (article)
(part 1)
the history of the disabled in Canada

New content is published on my blog 

every Sunday at 

4:40 PM (ish) Pacific Time.