Living somewhat nearby, my wife and I are occasional visitors to Branson, Missouri.
Branson became a tourist destination early in the 20th century due to a best-selling novel about rural life in the Ozarks.
Named for an official of a new railroad then pushed through, Branson hosted visitors wanting to see the places and the people reflected in events and characters of Harold Bell Wright’s book “Shepherd of the Hills.”
Branson can probably be described as a G-rated Las Vegas
Then came the fishermen for guided river float trips, a 1950s dam project creating a big lake, development of an Ozark theme park, country and pop music shows rivaling the offerings of Nashville, and every kind of typical tourist town attraction imaginable.
Branson can probably be described as a G-rated Las Vegas.
A year or so ago we attended a corny little country dinner theater near Branson. The jokes were lame, the characters were goofy, but another small show developed among those observing a little girl on a front row table who thought this was an amazing production.
She was perhaps seven years old. Her hair was light-colored and while I could not see her face very well, how her body shook as she laughed at the performers showed she was having the greatest time in the world.
The greatest!
I spent most of the show watching her. I thought it was cute how she attempted to be discreet about her laughs by covering her mouth with her hand.
Her joy was contagious. She was having the time of her life
But she couldn’t hide it. Mouth covered or not, the shaking of her little shoulders displayed deep courses of laughter.
Eventually, her laughing caught the attention of the performers and they broke the fourth wall and began to play directly to her, joking with her and teasing her. That made her laugh harder.
Adults around her began to join me in watching her. Her joy was contagious. She was having the time of her life.
Quietly discussing what was going on, my wife, who was sitting closer to the little girl than I, told me she obviously had Down Syndrome. Then I noticed it, too.
And my affection for this little lady grew.
She reflected an enhanced unaffected innocence of childhood and while I have vague recollection of what took place on the stage that night, the little girl and her laughter remain.
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These times cursed with attitudes allowing for disposable human beings
She made it a special evening for me and probably for others also watching her. Maybe for the performers, too.
I’m sure her condition has from time to time been a trial for her parents. And I appreciate the efforts of her father and mother and the parents of other special needs children, especially in these times cursed with attitudes allowing for disposable human beings.
The delight that little girl exuded that night no doubt regularly beams back to Dad and Mom. And I’m glad those of us sitting near that family got to share in their joy.
Thank you, little girl. You are a jewel.
Retired business professor Mike Landry, Ph.D., has been a journalist, broadcaster, and church pastor. Living in Northwest Arkansas, he writes on current events and history and is a commentary writer for The Western Journal.
Living somewhat nearby, my wife and I are occasional visitors to Branson, Missouri.
Branson became a tourist destination early in the 20th century due to a best-selling novel about rural life in the Ozarks.
Named for an official of a new railroad then pushed through, Branson hosted visitors wanting to see the places and the people reflected in events and characters of Harold Bell Wright’s book “Shepherd of the Hills.”
