In time I got used to stares in public. Kids would stare a lot. Actually I didn't mind because kids were honest about it. They would come up to me at a mall or elsewhere in public and ask "What happened to your legs?"
All it took was a simple answer like"Oh, I broke my leg. It's getting better, thanks!", always with a smile. That satisfied their curiosity most of the time. Remarks like that were OK because kids are naturally curious. To not answer would only deepen the mystery. To answer with anger would only make them afraid of me and the next person with a disability they would encounter. Answering proved I wasn't so different after all.
Adults were worse than children regarding stares. They would stare too, then quickly look away. Anything different was best ignored. At times parents would drag the kid away, scolding"Shh! Don't ask him things like that!"
I always felt that was the wrong approach. Just because adults may have disability hang-ups didn't mean the next generation needed to feel that way.
Luckily there are more people with disabilities on TV, in the workforce and out and about. We are not so strange anymore, and usually people are nice, even offering to hold open doors.
Even people with disabilities can be prejudiced or stare at other people with disabilities. Just because I have a challenge in life doesn't mean I'm a saint or a sinner. I have feelings too.
I'll never forget when I was in junior college, talking to one of my professors about discrimination and prejudice after class one day. He was black, intelligent and friendly, and we would often chat for a few minutes.
One day he mentioned my disability and had paid great attention to how I dealt with my situation. He gave me some great advice. No matter how much he had achieved in life, all the honors and degrees he had earned, the first thing people saw when he walked down the street was the color of his skin. Unfairly, often he was judged merely by his race alone. It was his cross in life, something he could never get away from, but something which only served to make him more motivated to try even harder in life.
He told me I would need to do the same thing. No matter what I achieved, society would still judge me by my legs and my wheelchair alone. That was the first impression people would always have of me. I had to learn to make the best of it, but not to accept it. The key was turning it into a positive, allowing others into my heart to get to know the real me.
After that, each time I met prejudice in my life because I was a guy with a disability, it may me even stronger. I was even more determined than ever not to give up.
Opening up your heart, soul and mind can be a risky thing, however, as I would find out in the near future.
Meanwhile, as I began college life, other interests entered my life- school, girls, music, a job. I faded away from the C.B. radio as well. The "Leaning Tower of Pisa" antenna, famous for the way it leaned to one side on my roof, came crashing down in our backyard during a violent summer thunderstorm. That was the end of my radio days, But the radio served its purpose. They were times I would never forget, important times which helped me to grow in many ways that would mold me into the person I would become later in life.
Now that I graduated from high school, what next? I really didn't know what I wanted to do with my life. I did know that I just didn't want to sit around all day, wasting away doing nothing. Disability checks are great for those who need them but I felt I had much more to give. I always felt I was more "normal" than what people gave me credit for. I didn't want to play into society's conception that a person with a disability should just stay home and not work. By the way, don't even think about having a relationship or trying to lead a life similar to others. You are different, so you should stay away from the able-bodied world. Stay in your corner, don't bother anyone and don't make waves.
That was the attitude I was getting in the late 1970s and early 1980s. The Americans with Disabilities Act wasn't even on the horizon yet, so it was still pretty much the Dark Ages for folks with a disability.
But that wasn't me. I was never one to listen to society. So I made waves.
What was my calling in life? My passion? My destiny? I came so far, surviving for a reason. Now I needed to figure that part out.
So I searched. I was always good at drawing and Art, often doodling in bed as I recovered from fractures. I thought of becoming a commercial artist, even applying for a "Draw Bambi" mail-order course, which was so popular back then.
My parents went along with whatever I wanted to try. Dad seemed to be a little more realistic than Mom in my abilities.
Soon I found the competition in Art to be very tough, and I really wasn't that talented to make a living out pf my doodling. I didn't have that burning desire to succeed just yet, so I knew it wasn't for me.
I always loved sports. I thought of becoming a sports writer. I contacted a journalist who wrote for the local newspaper. I wanted his honest opinion, which he gave me. "Well, you really have to be able to get around." I appreciated his honesty, even though it was discouraging to know that yes, I had limitations.
It was just another trickle down factor of my O.I. Like anyone at a crossroads of life, my decision about what to do with my life was confusing and a bit more of a challenged than perhaps another 18-year-old guy. I learned that I almost had to let the profession choose me, meeting my abilities and limitations. I was willing to try and had a mind-set that I could accomplish anything I set my mind to do. But reality would always get in the way. So would the visible and hidden barriers society put in my way.
No comments:
Post a Comment