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Her face smiles on, her story inspires

By ERNEST HOOPER
Published December 23, 2005

Outdoor activities have never been my favorite diversion. When people ask me about camping, I tell them if I wanted to sleep on dirt I wouldn't vacuum.

But it's hard to ignore those picture-perfect Florida days we get between October and April, and this was certainly one of them. It was weather that surely got the postcard photographer out of bed early.

The sky was so blue and the breeze was so lilting, it was irresistible.

I found myself at Colson Park in Seffner. While my kids dug a hole in the sandy playground, I briskly walked laps on the half-mile course.

Well, it was brisk for me.

I stopped under the pavilion, trying to catch my breath. What I caught instead, however, was a dose of inspiration.

Mounted on the wall was the story of Cindy LeeJean Whitaker. The colorful display included a story about her perseverance, pictures she had painted, the words "I can do it" and two photographs.

Her eyes were warm. Her smile was full of energy.

She was beautiful.

When asked about the display, Ted Whitaker speaks with ease and admiration about his late wife.

"Cindy was a remarkable person," Ted said. "She had always been a very positive, energetic go-getter. She worked for IBM for 16 years and had won awards with them in her administrative position.

"But she had a congenital heart defect she had inherited from her dad. As she grew older, it became more pronounced."

In July of 1994, Cindy had a severe stroke. She went through rehabilitation, learned to walk with a cane and gained enough skill to be fairly self-sufficient. But her right side was paralyzed, and she spoke only in broken sentences.

Most important, Ted said, she never gave up. He wouldn't let her. He wanted her to live a life where she didn't have to be hidden. Cindy wanted that, too.

"My challenge as a caregiver was not only to help her recover as much as she could, but also get her back out into the world," Ted explained. "Her tenacity, good nature and perseverance, combined with my desire to help her experience as much as possible, helped her have another good 10 to 12 years."

Cindy had an aunt who painted, so Ted reasoned she may have an artistic gene. He went to the art store one day and returned with a pad, pastel paints, brushes and an easel.

The initial response was rejection. She looked at the supplies and said, "Nope, nope. No way."

Ted set up the easel the next day and went to work.

"When I got home, I had a painting."

Over the next couple of years, Cindy would do more than 60 paintings. Many she gave to friends and family as a way to express herself.

The paintings aren't likely to be exhibited at the Louvre, but really, they were nothing short of amazing considering Cindy was a natural right-hander. She had retrained herself to paint with her left hand.

Through it all, Cindy would often say, "I can do it. I can do it."

Even as walking became more challenging, Cindy maintained her can-do attitude. After several falls, relatives would stay with her.

One day, Ted's mother tried to oversee her cooking efforts in the kitchen, but Cindy was having none of it.

"Sit down. Go sit down," Cindy said, her hands on her hips. "My kitchen. My kitchen."

After her death last January, the stories, the paintings, the photographs were compiled into a tribute at her memorial service in Plant City.

Ted's in-laws, Steve and Theresa Cleveland, were inspired to create a memorial. Colson Park, which is named after Rodney Colson, Ted's uncle, seemed like an ideal location.

After gaining approval from the County Commission, the display went up last October. On that same day, Ted came across a track coach who said he was going to make "I can do it" his team's rallying cry.

"My hope is people will see it as inspiring, particularly young people," Ted said. "I hope children who have disabilities can be brought there and see the Cindy story and see there is still so much they can do and not feel defeated.

"Not to say there weren't moments of frustration, but they were so few and far between. The rest of the time she had a smile on her face."

That's all I'm saying.

Ernest Hooper can be reached at 813 226-3406 or hooper@sptimes.com

[Last modified December 22, 2005, 09:28:03]