looking up from below

Are you a people watcher? Those that pass by you on the street, going about their daily journey. Since we're in the South, most of the time, you get a smile, a nod and sometimes, even an open door. But occasionally, some hurl looks your way that are weighed down with all sorts of innuendos. Most of the time, I'm soooo beyond that. Don't care. Won't give them the time of day, but lately, I've been meeting those glaces from a different vantage point and it's eye-opening.

After having surgery on my foot and leg, I've had to lean (literally) on my family for the basics. I don't like it. No woman does, but there comes a time when the most independent woman must suck it up . . .  and lean.

Mari and Ty protecting Mama!

Those things I've learned? First, my children are excellent walls. I should have realized this even before I asked for the first hoist. I recall how all three lovingly carried my mom in and out of grocery stores, the senior citizens center and crowded restaurants because they would not have her sitting home. The kids never complained or thought it uncool to be the in presence of an old lady. Oh, there were senior moments, and times when they lowered their heads and said softly, "Grandma, we're in public!" They protected her, removing 'roadblocks' in an instant. Nothing was going to keep her from the best table, the shortest check-out line, or the front of the lunch line. At 96, she was the most social lady I knew - old, young or somewhere in-between - and I had my children to thank for her last years on this earth being absolutely fantastic. So, watch this folks - as my kids slow my walker on the down ramp of dentist office, rush through the grocery store finding exactly what mom requires, and retrieve the motorized wheelchair at the store (mixed with excitement and embarrassment) - I'm proud that they are there when I need them and don't complain about this old lady! What kind of walls are your children?

Watch out for the . . . curb!

Second, I've learned that you never know who is watching.  And sometimes they aren't watching what you think they are watching. As I began tooling around on my knee walker and my beep-beep buggy, I watched people approaching just to see where their eyes fell. They were looking down, at my 'ailment'. Not at my eyes for their perception began and usually ended with my 'handicap'. I had a older man stop me at Publix and tell me he saw my son on that contraption and he wondered why someone so young needed a motorized wheelchair. Then he said, "But I see it's for you" and walked away. I wanted to scream after him. "Do you think people with this (pointing to my pink brick) can just walk up to the front door and hop on!" As I passed children, I would hear them turn to their mom and say, "Cool cast." Out of the mouths of babes. Their perception is unclouded and non-judgmental. Lesson learned.

As cliche as it may sound, I have a new respect for those who need assistance to go about their daily life. Simple tasks like pouring cup of coffee, doing a load of laundry and even reaching for the tomato sauce on the highest shelf in the stores are challenging. Those maneuvers are made much easier by people who lend a hand rather than dart the eye. As life gets back to normal and I stand erect, I will be conscious of my movements, my eyes, and most of all, my respect for others. Everything happens for a reason; maybe this was my reason.

a wedding tale

Cheri and David. Just Married. June 9, 2012. Tybee Island. 

a woman's voice

Nora Ephron died today. I cried.

Not because I knew her or even followed her life on a daily basis - I listened while news reporters told of her extraordinary Hollywood life, one of films and acquaintances that would make the common person wish for her life - but because I felt like I lost a friend, someone who understood those heartfelt moments and could actually put them into words. Something I have attempted to do every day of my life.

She left us with gems. I remember "When Harry Met Sally", "You've Got Mail", "Sleepless in Seattle" and "Julie & Julia". I have sat on my sofa, square in front of my TV for hours on end. I always cried when Meg Ryan achingly placed ornaments on her Christmas tree, missing her mother so much that it hurt; then, in true TBS fashion, I would watch them all over again as they were re-played back-to-back. "It's you," Tom Hanks said. "It's me," Meg Ryan replied. And I gushed, and said, "Yes, it's me. Oh, how I wish it were me." Ephron had that gift of knowing the exact words I would say when I met the man of my dreams at the top of the Empire State Building. She knew words, and she used them over and over.

It was like there was a connection. She had a woman's voice, a true voice, one that would kick butt and take names, and then ask you if you needed help getting up off the floor. Never minced words. Nailed emotions when they accompanied a buttered tub of popcorn or a heaping bowl of ice cream and even had the genius to have the heroine peel an apple in one motion. Ah, how me!  I felt it in my living room, and then I heard it on the screen. Amazing gift, that screenwriter/writer/novelist/woman.

You will be missed. Who will write those romantic comedies now? Who will make me laugh and cry at the same time? Who will spill my innards on the big screen?

Ms Ephron, I wish for you a spectacular view of Manhattan from your heavenly perch and while you're gazing, a piece of pecan pie to whet your memory.

in poland, all dancing is pole dancing...love, mari

Printed in Georgia Connector Magazine, Summer Issue, 2012

“A girl should be two things: classy and fabulous.” — Coco Channel

I have been neither since January.  That's what happens when two legs become one and simple motions become exhaustive behaviors.  I have had to take into account that when I said, "I'll be there in a second," I really meant, "I'll be there by next Tuesday."  

And so concludes this chapter of my life, entitled, "Revenge of the Achilles Tendon." I pledge to forever honor this tendon that controls everything from the knee down, to stretch on the onset of each exercise session and to protect my legs with paramount caution. I will remain vertical at all costs.

With that in mind, I have learned many lessons during my stint in decorative leg wear. Not only did I learn that those hideous and bulky covers are necessary for healing but also that the minor things really are quite major.

Many questions were raised in my small brain about the accessibility for and treatment of those with handicaps whether they be great or small, lasting or temporary. First of all, why are ramps at such an incline?  Going up or down takes a balancing act and incredible braking skills. I, along with whoever was helping at the moment, almost  met my Maker on many occasions. And why are ramps so far away from handicap parking?  And why are doors so heavy? If you get to the front door, how in the world are you supposed to open it while holding firmly to a walker ? And how are you supposed to get to the motorized wheelchair located in the front of a store if you are alone and can't walk?  And why are grocery stores so big? And why do people look at you like you're contagious rather than offering a smile? Sometimes, that's all I needed.

My observations are by no means new nor are they earth shattering.  I'm sure there are laws and explanations for every point I raise. But to those that who are recovering from surgeries or accidents, or those dealing with disease or old age, access and compassion are the least we can do to take away a smidge of  the hurt.  Opening a door, or just waiting on the other side of the opened door. Getting the out-of-reach can on the grocery store shelf or simply asking , "Can I help?"

Now, I have to take these lessons-learned and change the world, or at least, my world. Isn't that what I'm supposed to do?

And so my dear Coco Channel, I'm not sure I can do classy and fabulous according to your definition, but I will most definitely tweak my meaning to include simple acts of kindness, a helping hand, a kind word and a hug to squeeze out the unhappy of it all. Everything is major - to someone.