Hear Me Tell You to Stop

On What I've Learned From Those Who've Left

On January 13th, my family and I lost our matriarch. We're lucky in that my Grandma was 86, and lived most of those many years in great spirits. We are also lucky that people came from ten different states to bid her goodbye and show us support. It doesn't surprise me that so many people wanted to pay her homage. I was fortunate enough to know her well. She was as loyal as they come, a willing listener, a dispenser of brutally honest,and heartfelt advice, the life of MANY parties, and a rock for her husband, children and grandchildren. She was my sister and my last grandparent; we'll miss her and think of her more than daily.

The romantic in me wants to believe that she and my Grandpa are in a paradise  just above us, drinking martinis,laughing, kissing, and maybe occasionally exchanging a word or two with our other friends and relatives who have previously passed away. The realist in me says, this might be it. Maybe my aunt, my uncle, my mom's infant brother and sister, my grandma, her friends, my grandpa, his friends, maybe they're gone. The writer in me takes comfort in the fact, that as long as I am telling stories, they'll be in the minds whoever chooses to read my self-involved nostalgia. If they are gone though,that means,we have one chance to be the kind of character other people want to cast as the good guys in their prose.I'm 24, and I really don't have any right to tell others how to live, but I know the things that make my deceased friends and family the protagonists in my mind, and it's my blog so I'll be sharing those.

• My Grandma appreciated a well crafted joke, and made everybody believe they were interesting. 
• She took pride her appearance, both physically and socially. She was always well put together and kept private what needed to be kept private. 
• My Grandpa never failed to look on the bright-side, and saw fun around every corner.
• They were both fierce friends, and never put up with anybody speaking ill of those dear to them (even if they spoke ill of them sometimes).  
• My Dad's brother Johnny, never spoke ill of anybody.
• My dad's sister Eileen, didn't give much thought to what others might say about her, which is what made her so hilarious. 
• None of them ever missed a chance to toast to something magnificent. 

I could go on and on about what I've learned from these, and other people who are no longer with us, but it all boils down to three things. Be good. Ensure that you have a better time than you think possible, and be you. There's a unfortunate and large possibility this is your only shot.  

On Being an Ally

I am a proud member of three online communities concerning disability. It is beyond helpful to connect with people with experiences and challenges similar to my own. A few days ago, I read post that bothered me. A couple of the members wanted to create a poster about how to be a good ally to your disabled friends and/or family members.  

I guess one could make a case that this is a good idea, because there are many people who get nervous when they have to interact with those of us with disabilities, and it is usually due to the fact that they have never done it before. That being said, it annoys me for two reasons. The first being because this poster was not directed the general "naive" public but at individuals who they already consider to be an important part of their lives. It has occurred to me that maybe I am super fortunate in having family and friends who [seem as though they] are totally comfortable being with me in public. However, it has also occurred to me that the people who started this thread have non-friends and ridiculous relatives who mistreat them and that is obviously upsetting. I have just learned to be a valuable asset in someone else's life, and have nothing to deserve better friends or more accepting family than anybody else. Life is horrifically unfair.

The second source of my irritation came from the fact that a poster like the one they were planning on creating, could cause people to think all of us with disabilities want all the same things in an “ally”. For example, one of the instructions they give is: Don’t help unless you are asked. I am comfortable asking three of my many wonderful friends and acquaintances for physical help, and one of them has a disability, too. The rest of them just have to infer that I am struggling and ALWAYS help without being asked as they know I’m too stubborn to tell them I need them.  Another one is: Ask permission before touching my body and/or my wheelchair/crutches/walker/cane. I really could not care less, if someone moved my walker. I would much rather them do that than bump into it; I am extremely anxious about inconveniencing strangers. I do think it is a good idea to ask permission before touching another’s body, disabled or not. This doesn't mean that the aforementioned guidelines are bad, but they would not work for me. No two relationships are identical, and no two people are the same, even if they have a disability in common,

So to be a good Ally a disabled person in your life:

1.       Get to them. Think about what they like and dislike how they treat you, etc…

2.       Go from there

You could probably use these rules for any friend you encounter.