Two nights ago I went out to dinner in the Syracuse, NY Armory distric with two good friends--the astute Lance Manion and noted poet Stephen Kuusisto. Blind man with guide dog, crippled me in my wheelchair, and wonky bipedal man with a cain. Sound like the start of a bad joke. One of the friendly critiques I get is that I am to consistently bad. Come on I am told the world is hard but surely you can tell a good or happy story once in a while. Okay, here is my happy story, a story that made me feel far too smart for my own good.
I drove to down town Syracuse and planned to meet Lance and Steve. The snow has finally melted away and no longer plowed into handicapped parking spots--the preferred place all snow plow drivers aim for. I find a spot near the well known Irish bar Kitty Hoynes where we plan to eat. Remember this is Syracuse. The weather is nasty. Windy, about 40 f. and raining. Really hard cold rain. I navigate the chopped up streets and see a massive mess near Kitty Hoynes. Massive as in major street repair. I might get into the restaurant but will need the assistance of a few Sherpa or maybe the local fire department to carry me in. On to plan B. Given the heavy rain I look for a restaurant nearby. Only one option exists for our motley crew of three men, one guide dog, wheelchair, and cain--a pasta place. I do not like pasta but the restaurant has the room for us. Wet and hungry we are escorted to our table. We are about to chat and when a guy at the table next to us leans over and asks me "Are you the guy that gave the brilliant talk about assisted suicide and the Walking Dead at the crip con?" Now that was a first. A stranger recognize me and deemed me brilliant. I immediately asked this man if I could get that in writing. To say his was gratifying is a giant understatement. I had great fun preparing my talk, getting made up to look like a zombie, and delivering my paper. I am a hard working man but not the most creative person. On that day I let my freak fly.
So there you have it a happy story. But please be forewarned do not ever call a scholar brilliant. My ego is healthy enough. In fact on the way home I struggled to get my swelled head into the car.
Paralyzed since I was 18 years old, I have spent much of the last 30 years thinking about the reasons why the social life of crippled people is so different from those who ambulate on two feet. After reading about the so called Ashley Treatment I decided it was time to write a book about my life as a crippled man. My book, Bad Cripple: A Protest from an Invisible Man, will be published by Counter Punch. I hope my book will completed soon.
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1 comment:
Loved it.I am awaiting a scooter so I can make the transition from walking everywhere. Stairs are immensely challenging and to be avoided. Cold rain is an anathema. Sometimes the US feels about as accessible as India..... Thanks! I am glad you were acknowledged.
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