I’ve been away from this blog for quite some time, dealing with some complicated shit. More about that later. But for now:
This is what I’ve been talking about. Ordinary people, doing ordinary things. Ordinary people who happen to be in wheelchairs, featured in commercials. Better they should be in mainstream TV shows and movies, but I’ll take what I can get.
- The wheelchairs are not the focus of the story, they’re not even important to the story. This little screenplay could have been acted out equally as powerfully were the actors not in wheelchairs.
- I love the fact that this drama shows people in wheelchairs being physical, active athletes, able to give and take on the court. I love the fact that this is not about people in wheelchairs. This is not about disability.
- I love the fact that it proves that wheelchair users are not “bound” to their chairs. Just as we are moving towards more inclusive “person first” language we have to move away from the image of people in wheelchairs being dependent and stuck or trapped. For these men, like for everybody else who uses a wheelchair, the chair is a vehicle for liberation.
- I love that the story empowers the men in the wheelchairs.
- I love the fact that the kids are fully included in the father’s life and accepting of his disability, perhaps not even seeing it anymore.
- I love the fact that Toyota stands aside, and can promote their message and their product (I still don’t know what model vehicle is being promoted, but, like the wheelchairs, it doesn’t matter.) without having to shout.
- I love seeing myself, or someone who looks like me, portrayed this way in a mainstream commercial. Perhaps only marginalized people will understand this. (A topic for a further and lengthy, discussion.)
In the end, what makes this a really great commercial is that the product (some sort of car, I think…) is only a vehicle (pardon the pun) for the drama of a group of men playing a very physical game of basketball, ending the day without holding grudges.
I hope this film can lead the way toward more fully inclusive roles for people with disabilities.
Did I mention that I love this little film? What do you think?
I was all set to write post about finally embracing, “I can’t.” I have tried to remind myself that of course I can. It might take me 4 times as long, and it might wreck me for the rest of the day. It might leave me grunting like a Wimbledon tennis player when I “walk” down the hall, it might find me half way into an activity thinking I’ve made a terrible mistake. But in the end, I’ve told myself, I always can – in one way or another. This morning, as I wrestled with an enormous All-Clad skillet in the sink, one of the angels on my shoulder (not sure which one) whispered “It’s OK to say you can’t.”
“Yeah,” I replied.”My body has limitations, and it’s OK for me to say I can’t. Right on.” I’ve been posting – ad nauseam – on Facebook about the Paralympics (I hope you’ll be watching along with me!), so turned on by watching these athletes who trained for their particular event just as hard as the Olympians who performed two weeks ago, but who had to train through blindness or traumatic injury or some other disability.
Then this morning, scrolling Facebook, I watched a little video about the Paralympic soccer team. One player prefaced his story with the phrase, “When I woke up from the coma…” I watch them train, while listening to them talk matter-of-factly about their brain injury, or cerebral palsy, and I ask myself, what’s my excuse?
So it reposted the little video about the soccer team with my comment that,”Each time I arrive at “I can’t,” I am encouraged to take one more step.” It would be so easy – too easy – to just say I can’t. But I’d know that it’s not true. And even if no one ever accused me of being a quitter, I’d know.
So I’m ging to watch as much of the Paralympics as I can, and remind myself that I can always take one more step.
Three Moments of an Explosion: Stories by China Miéville
My rating: 5 of 5 stars
His novels are hard to classify – part steampunk, part fantasy, a little science fiction. He creates wonderfully detailed and complete cities, continents and worlds, with fully drawn populations and languages and cultures. All of which are so finely drawn as to seem historical and familiar.
This book of 21 stories of varying length and style – screenplays, novellas and short stories – is a smorgasbord. He displays the depth and breadth of his imagination and his command of language and narrative. These stories can serve as an introduction, an “amuse bouche” if you will.
Bonus points: how many of these can you identify by sight?
I ‘ve been out and about with my bad motor scooter – taking the short bus to Freeport (home to Maine’s #2 tourist destination, L.L. Bean, and a very accessible little downtown), and to Falmouth, and yesterday into Portland for a spin around the Museum of Fine Arts (to be dazzled by Georgia O’Keeffe, Marguerite Thompson Zorach, Florine Stettheimer, and Helen Torr) – and I was immensely pleased with the SmartDrive‘s performance at every location – brick concourse, concrete sidewalk, museum floor. The only hesitations were from my inexperience and lack of trust. Even when it popped off the chair, it was doing what it was supposed to do. It was easy to reattach, and each time I learned a little something new. Brilliantly simple.
There is always a “but…”. I wonder why there isn’t some sort of geared wheel hub that would offer a transmission brake to slow the chair when going down hill. Relying on my grip on the handrims is both difficult (was that smoke rising from the palms of my gloves?) and dangerous if my hand strength should give out – look out below! Bike mechanics, engineers, makers and tinkerers – can this be done?
Allow me one more ranty rave – the SmartDrive is a life changer. My solo outings I would never have even attempted under my own power, knowing how limited my strength can be. One of the things I used to love to do, and one of the dearest things I lost to disability, was wandering the streets with my camera. Thanks to the SmartDrive, I have that back again. Now I look at the bus map and realize that, theoretically at least, I can go from Yarmouth to destinations on my local route, including the Downeaster train in Portland, which offers me essentially…everywhere. That might not seem like much to most people, but as someone for whom those horizons previously came with enormous obstacles, being able to look at the map and see such possibilities is, pardon the expression, huge. A simple hunk of technology like the SmartDrive is empowering and liberating.
Discuss: “It’s exciting that a woman who is transgender can go to the bathroom that she identifies with, bizarre that the disabled community can’t.” (I cannot find the attribution for this.)
It’s cruise control for your wheelchair.
After waiting a few months for Medicare approval and delivery, a week or so of weather delays and a few false starts (due to user error – d’oh!), I finally got to venture out with my new SmartDrive. I didn’t go far from home, in case those user errors turned out to be SmartDrive fails. My DW unfolded the chair, popped the Drive onto the frame, and I set off for a parking lot to see if I had actually figured the dang thing out.
It turns out I had, and I took off down the sidewalk on my shakedown cruise. The SmartDrive is simple – it’s the size of a big dust buster that snaps onto the undercarriage of your wheelchair, and, well, drives the chair. All you do is give the hand rim a push, and the drive kicks in, powering the chair at the same speed as your initial push. The Bluetooth wristband communicates with the drive to control the speed – push a little harder and the drive goes a little faster. Push on either hand rim to steer, and tap on the wheel to turn the drive off. That’s it.
The little thing has the power to push the chair over bumps and cracks and discontinuities in the pavement. If you are able to wheelie over a curb, the drive will power you through it. I even took it into a gravel parking area and had no problem. Up a long hill? No problem. I took it into the town hall to use the bathroom, and into a cafe for a smoothy, places a scooter or larger powerchair would not have so easily fit. No problem. I wore a bit of a smug grin as I powered up the hill hands free – save for a few steering touches to the wheels. It’ll essentially keep driving over anything until you turn it off.
Is it hyperbole to call the SmartDrive a game changer? I don’t think so. The terrain I cruised over that day in Yarmouth I’d never have even attempted before. Now I’m feeling confident that I can deal with anything the Big City can put in front of me. I’ll let you know.