A few days ago I turned on the television and heard the words "Down syndrome" and "abortion," which got my attention immediately.

Members on a panel were discussing Down syndrome. A Dr. Allen Crocker was on the panel. He was against abortion. The only woman on the panel was for aborting Down syndrome babies but she seemed to be uncomfortable saying so.

My mother had a lot of miscarriages in those days and the survival rate wasn't that great, but she managed to give birth to nine of us, six daughters and three sons. I was two years older than the youngest child, a son. It took me a while to realize Larry was not the same as the rest of us.

It turned out that he was a Down syndrome baby. I remember my mother carrying him until he learned to walk at age 4. They used to call them mongoloids because of their almond shaped eyes, and their pretty little noses.

Mom was always searching for a school for her child, and she repeatedly implored us not to "institutionalize" Larry if she died before him. We assured her every time that it would not happen.

Larry was the center of our lives and I was amazed at how much he understood. He loved the soap operas that were on radio. He would be out in the back yard with my father tending to the fig trees and at the magic moment he would appear and turn my beautiful music off to listen to Helen Trent, one of his favorite soaps. He would twirl the dial to the right station and at the right time. When Saturday and Sunday came, he knew they weren't on. It was mind-boggling.

Because of Larry, we became a close-knit, compassionate family, aware of other peoples' frailties. We also knew those frailties were nothing to laugh at, as some people did.

Which is one reason no one seemed to mind that everything centered around Larry. His death in 1947 left a huge gap in our lives; he was missed twice as much as a "normal" child.

Through the years I found that God works in wonderful ways. At the time of my brother's death there was an article in Newsweek about downs syndrome and what could cause it. The research at that point said that after having a lot of children a woman could give birth to a mongoloid. Mom had many miscarriages but nine of us survived.

The research also said that intelligent, high-strung women could have a mongoloid child. My mother had those characteristics but, faced with a child's sickness, she knew what to do and the child would get well. When the doctor made a house call he would ask her, "Who's the doctor?" Her blue eyes would light up and she would grin.

Many friends in our area sought her help with their sick children. I remember Mom (then in her 70s), leaning on my daughter Joan's crib, tending to my sick child. She would tell me to go to sleep and she would stay up all night. I'm sure that her loving care made Joan well; she has grown into full maturity and is a mother of three.

Abortion is a dirty word. I hope and pray that one day we will come to our senses and stop the mass murders of innocent babies. We know the slaughter that went on in Hitler's regime in his quest for the "perfect race." Let's stop the slaughter.

Larry, this is in remembrance of you and your 20 short years on earth. You made a very big difference in our lives. One day we'll meet again in a far better place.

Jean Cosenza Vitello lives in Covina where she attends St. Louise de Marillac Church.