I read a blog post recently that struck a little closer to home than usual. It was written by the parent of a special needs child, the post was about coming to terms with the child that is as opposed to the child that might have been. What some folks don’t realize is that disabled people go through something similar, we have to come to terms with the fact that our disabilities sometimes mean that certain aspirations are just plain out of reach.
I love piano and cello music even though I will never play either instrument. I have seen both the piano and cello I will never have. I have looked in the mirror and seen myself in Army dress greens with jump wings I earned. The image eventually fades and I’m left with just me.
So what to do about it? I have tried burying it, there isn’t a hole deep enough. So I listen to cello and piano pieces on good days(days when I am mostly at peace with myself and my body mechanics) and smile and am thankful that someone has the dexterity that I will never have and with it the ability to usher beautiful music into the world. Days when the green eyed monster bites deep have been known to find me in angry tears over the same music. When the internal maelstrom dies down though I remind myself that even though I lack the means to reproduce it I have two ears that work exceptionally well with which to listen to the music, which is more than some have.
Coming to terms with inability to serve in the military is probably one of the hardest things I’ve done in my life, it is ongoing process which will most likely only end because I die and not because I have completely made peace with it.
For people in non military families that may seem strange but someone from one or both sides of my family has served in every major conflict America has involved itself in, with the possible exception of the current situation and even that I’m not sure of because I’m not in regular contact with some of my far flung cousins. So since I am unable to serve I do the best I can at home. I am far from politically minded but I have always made it clear that I support the troops of all branches no matter which set of views the current administration agrees with.
Some days are better than others but in each day there is the opportunity to make it better than the one before and that’s the most important thing of all.
Every year on a weekend prior to Halloween Nashville is invaded by zombies and has been for at least the last two years that I know of. Nashville’s annual Zombie Walk is a Halloween event which is free to the public although a donation of nonperishable food items for our branch Of the Second Harvest Food Bank is greatly appreciated. I first heard of the zombie walk last year over breakfast with family friends, their teenage daughters had participated and loved it . The premise is that there are several waves of people, some made up as zombies and others not, the “normal”people are given two strips of cloth to carry, the idea is to try to make it to the end still human. If you lose both cloth pieces to a zombie you must then go to the zombie makeup area where you become a zombie and prey on the remaining humans.
We did not get to participate this year because of car issues but one day I will even if I have to cross state lines to do it. It sounds like a lot of fun even to me who has a reputation for being a big chicken when it comes to haunted houses and scary movies but I also have another reason. Two weeks later Kurby died completely without warning. Dressing up like a zombie is not what most people would do in remembrance of someone but I have no doubt that he will appreciate it.
Before I go into the prompt I would like to be perfectly clear about one thing: I do vote. I have voted in every presidential election since I was old enough to do so. I hate discussing politics though. I can count on both hands the number of people but I will willingly get into a political discussion with these include my parents, sibling, significant others, one of my uncles and two close family friends. My reasoning is simple, politics is an emotionally charged subject and in many cases adults who are otherwise quite reasonable and clear minded and go a little crazy. The same thing is often true when religion is discussed, it becomes all too easy to forget that other people have a right to their opinions even if they disagree with yours.
Advertisements do not directly influence my vote. I view most political advertising, especially those about the the other guy, (for instance an Obama funded advertisement against Mitt Romney or Paul Ryanor vise versa) as deliberately biased and possibly mudslinging propaganda. I do however fact check through third-party sources to the best of my ability. I believe it is important to be aware of the current political situation in whatever country you reside, I do however think that brothers should not come to blows over a difference of opinion in politics as actually happened in my family at Christmas time of the last election year.All I will say about the current election is follow your convictions, I will follow mine and hopefully we can meet somewhere in the middle ground at least.
I would like to state for the record that I have absolutely no problem with law enforcement in general. I am well aware that police officers put themselves in harm’s way to keep the rest of us safe. I have a specific problem with the officers of my particular small-town.A few nights ago they came knocking on our front door saying that a pedestrian and reported being knocked over by a white car and since a friend of my cousins had come to visit him and parked his white car in our driveway the officers concern was understandable, this is not the part of the story I have problems with. Later that night the same friend of my cousin apparently decided to indulge in recreational pharmaceuticals, to the best of my knowledge my cousin told him to get lost and the young man collapsed of an overdose on our property. Somebody, nobody’s quite sure who, had the presence of mind to call 911 probably from a cell phone because no one came into the house asking for use of the land line. So the police come out a second time. I wake up to find red and blue light flashing across my ceiling because my bedroom window overlooks the driveway. It takes at least half an hour to piece the story together because of everybody coming in and out of the house, but the upshot is that the boy was taken to the hospital in an ambulance and the police officers accused my father of giving the young man the drugs on which he overdosed. They came to this conclusion with no other evidence as far as I’m aware than the fact that the call to 911 was placed from this address. My family has always had a standing rule that no drugs are allowed at our residence, the rest of the family has been informed of that fact several times and so is anyone for who stays with us for any time at all. I’m not sure exactly how the conversation ended but my dad is still here so they must have finally been convinced that he didn’t do anything wrong. However we are still walking around like zombies because of the lack of sleep caused by their visit.
Disclaimer: The following post reflects my views on a certain political and social issue. I understand that not everyone will agree with me. Feel free to comment but know that excessively nasty comments will be deleted.
This makes me so sad. I have said many times that I would rather live anywhere but Tennessee but that article truly makes me ashamed to live here. The fact that the staff at the theme park actually asked a a patron to turn their shirt inside out because the theme park is “family oriented,” makes me angry on so many different levels. First of all, it is a slap in the face to the First Amendment right of free speech. The shirt did not proclaim anything obscene or explicitly vulgar, the shirt only read, “marriage is so gay.” The First Amendment allows for all kinds of people to voice their political opinions, T-shirt slogans are no exception. The other bone of contention I have is that Dollywood seems to think that their park administration is at liberty to define the word family. The park employee who informed the ladies of the dress code within the park seemed to imply that because they were gay that somehow left them out of the definition of family, so to be completely fair I will mention that the women in question were not asked to leave. Personally though I am reminded of the Jim Crow laws, or if you want to go even further back in history the laws which forbade the peasantry to wear clothing dyed a certain shade for no other reason than the nobility decided that they should not be allowed to.It is ironic and perhaps timely that so soon after New York legalized gay marriage I’m reminded just how far Tennessee still has to go.
all men are created equal, even those you don’t agree with or approval of personally.
So we may not be quite that famous but is true that my family created porcelain dolls from about 1820 to 1938 in Germany. We are even lucky enough to have our own doll museum there. I’m not sure about the family that still lives in Germany but I can assure you that my side of the American branch has no more than a passing interest in the family business, except for me. Since I have neither the manual dexterity to cast and pour molds nor the business sense it would take to make money from them my interest takes the form of collecting. I don’t have any of my family’s work yet but that is only because I’m not yet able to afford the minimum $1,000 price tag. Yes, we really were that good. I have recently taken to collecting vinyl dolls hand painted to look like living children known ass reborn dolls. I realize some people will fond it odd and maybe s little creepy to have dolls that can be mistaken for real but for me it made sense. Vinyl is a lot more durable than porcelain which is a major plus considering my physical issues and whatever else can be said of them there is no denying that are unique. The thing that I find ironic is that my dad and uncle tease me about collecting when it was our many times great grandfather that started this,
I live in a small town. I mean really small, as in one traffic light and no post office small. It has its good points I suppose. The city allows mom to keep livestock because the land we live on has apparently been farmland since the beginning of time . This makes her happy which is good enough for me. My dad tolerates the sheep, unfortunately for him he is well and truly a city boy. The town I live in has no sidewalks, a fact that puts me in constant contention with the local police. Apparently they believe that just because the town has no sidewalks I should remain safely in my yard at all times and not venture down the road at all for any reason. They still have not managed to convince me to comply. I don’t know everyone in town by name but that is mostly because I didn’t go to school with them in part due to the fact that the local high school wanted no part of my attendance. I went to the next closest high school which ironically enough was a whole different social stratosphere. To say that I didn’t fit in is quite the understatement. The children I went to school with were upper-middle-class snobs for the most part, though there were a few exceptions thank goodness. The fact that I went to a different school then most of the kids in town made it slightly awkward. By the time I got to high school I was the only disabled person in town. I still am to the best of my knowledge. Most of the kids who he used to live here have scattered to the four corners of the earth, or at least an hour or two away from here. My younger sister used to invite people over here for bonfires. I was at least good acquaintances with most of them and good friends with some. Most of them promised vehemently that they would remember to come visit me since it was unlikely that I could come to them because I can’t drive. Four years later, maybe almost 5, I have heard from may be three out of the dozen who promised to keep in touch. Small-town life is often romanticized. I’m had to tell you that not all small towns bear any resemblance to Mayberry. One of these days I will find a way out of here, and when I do, I want regret leaving or miss it much at all.