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. 

On My First New Year's Resolution

On Beauty in Foxholes

A few weeks ago, I was asked how my disabilities affect my spiritual life. I have had trouble since then coming up with enough literary meat for a post. However, because of the horror in Newtown, I think a lot of us who do not consider ourselves prayerful people have looked up and asked “why?” My grandpa commonly repeated the old cliche,“There is no atheist in a foxhole.”  It has never rung more true to me than in the last couple of days. Our nation has been forced, once again, by a deranged young man into a proverbial foxhole and we’re all praying together that something will make this violent trend stop.

I think many people in the country will see the capability to end this violence in God. Some will see promise in Buddha, some in Jesus and some in Mohammad. Goodness should be looked for wherever people can find it; I am glad religion is helpful. Without it, the world would probably slump into a permanent state of unwavering depression.   

I do not want to offend anyone but my disability has in my opinion, made organized religion, almost unnecessary for me. I know that there are more good forces than bad forces in this world. I have spent countless moments in my life helpless. The number of people who have gone out of their way to help me and improve my day is immensely greater than the number of creeps who have attempted to use my condition to their advantage.  There were dozens of heroes in Newtown on Friday, protecting those innocent babies, and one sick bastard with a weapon. That ratio does not surprise me because I have seen it my entire life. For every annoyed onlooker who rolls their eyes while I struggle up the stairs, there are five who want to carry me. For every person has bullied me, there has been someone who couldn’t fathom their motivation.  Human kind is largely kind. When humans are evil, I pray. I pray not because of any specific credence but because I want to be able to see the joy in the world soon. When I send those prayers, it usually doesn’t take to long for me to get a text from a friend, or see a neighbor assisting another neighbor. Evil is the rarity, and good is the rule. Where was whatever being I pray to on Friday? It certainly not in Connecticut, but I believe that because most of us are loving and loveable, we can overcome this and we can see beauty again. That faith in human beauty, I hold onto like some hold onto the existence of God.   

(A video) On Inspiring

On the Shooting in Connecticut

President Obama spoke very eloquently about the disgusting,senseless,horrific crime that took place in Newtown,CT yesterday, which ended the lives of twenty  precious children and eight good adults.He said "These neighborhoods are our neighborhoods and these children are our children." We have make sure this cannot happen again. Twenty kids will never know what it means to have a best friend; they'll never know what it means fall in love. Forty parents won't get to see their babies go to school dances or graduate from college;they'll never kiss them good night again. As Americans we have to be willing to abide by any law that may spare people that inconceivable pain. We have to talk about mental-illness out loud and deal with its effects without shame.I have great admiration for the school teachers who protected and comforted their beloved students, and for the emergency response professionals who cared for people at this terrible scene. My heart is with our kin in Newtown. Hopefully, this is as bad as it gets. Hug your loved ones a little tighter this holiday.