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by FRANK PICCOLA, as told to RALPH BASS

Eddie is ten. He can't dress himself, tell time or play "hide and seek" like other kids. But he can repay love and affection

EIGHT YEARS AGO, when our son Eddie was two years old, doctors told us we would have to shut him up in an institution for retarded children. I usually take my time before making up my mind, but for once I didn't wait a split second before deciding good and loud, "Over my dead body!"

We haven't put Eddie away. And even though at ten he's like a four-year-old, I'd say we're as happy a family as there is in the Borough of Queens in New York City where we live. I know you'll find that hard to believe when I tell you some of the things Eddie can't do and the things that he needs help with -- the help of my wife or myself.

He can't dress himself, or use a knife for spreading or cutting. He can't tell time, or the difference between colors.

He can't name the days of the week or tell his age. He doesn't know his right hand from his left, or his home address. He can't print simple words. And he can't play games like "farmer in the dell" or "hide and seek."

But I wish you'd been at our house the other day when Eddie, for the first time, managed to pour some soda into a glass and only spill a little bit!

My wife Anna and I felt the way you did when your kid brought home a perfect report card. And you could see that Eddie knew he had done something terrific. The look of happy pride and love he turned on us made up right then and there for everything we'd been through.

I don't think you could tell there is anything much wrong with Eddie just by looking at him. He's about four feet six, which isn't too small for his age. He weighs 58 pounds, about average for his build. He has nice white teeth and a straight nose. If you smile at him, he smiles right back.

It's when Eddie moves around that you notice he's different. His wrists are kind of loose, and also, he can't control his left leg too well.

About the only other outwardly abnormal thing about Eddie is his unusual restlessness. He moves around all the time and you can't get him to stop talking.

Strangers often find it hard to follow what he's saying, but we understand him. It's usually something like wanting to go for a ride or asking for a drink of water -- anything a very young kid might jabber about.

Sometimes it's hard to figure out if Eddie understands everything you say to him. But there's one thing sure: he's sensitive and his feelings get hurt.

I think the main cause of these moments of misery is the fact that people don't understand about kids like him. Some of our neighbors seem to think he's a kind of monster who might do God-knows-what to their children.

About a year ago, we heard Eddie screaming and rushed out in time to see a woman give him a shove that made him stagger. It turned out that she had warned her little daughter against going anywhere near Eddie; and when the child saw Eddie she very naturally cried out in fear and her mother rushed over to "protect her."

A little later we had a visit from a truant officer who wanted to know why Eddie wasn't in school. It didn't take him long to realize Anna and I would have gone down on our knees to give thanks if Eddie could go to school.

We were pretty sure we knew who had made the complaint. But we weren't really angry because we've learned one thing: people hurt you more out of ignorance than malice. We just felt rotten; and Eddie, as usual, knew it had something to do with him. He went around with a sad look that haunted me.

Once, my wife was trying to get Eddie to take some glutamic acid tablets which a doctor had suggested, feeling they might help him. He hated the stuff and, like any kid, was putting up quite an objection.

The first thing we knew, a squad car pulled up. A neighbor had figured that anything Eddie was involved in needed police action, quick! And Eddie -- a kid who is all love and affection for anyone who will meet him one tenth of the way.

THOUGH THERE ARE plenty of things Eddie can't do, there are items on the credit side. For one thing, he rides a three-wheeler. It took him a year to learn. So what! He can't play with other kids. But that brings him closer to us, and I guess we have become pretty much his whole world.

I keep thinking that in six more years I'll get my pension and Eddie and I can spend more time together. He loves to go driving with me and he has a remarkably good memory. He'll tell me to turn at a corner when I make believe I've forgotten.

Around the house he plays with a tin dish he calls his steering wheel. But as simple as that would seem to make him, he can easily recognize the cars of friends a block away.

Before Eddie was born we had four other children, two girls and two boys, all normal. Our 18-year-old, Frank, Jr., is a Public School Athletic League champ. He brings his friends to the house and they all like Eddie because he is the sweetest, most affectionate little guy you ever met.