Over the Thanksgiving weekend, I watched the Extended Version of The Two Towers. As with the first extended DVD, the second film, already ridiculously good, is even better with the additional footage. I especially enjoyed the scenes that developed the relationship between Faramir and his doomed brother Boromir. It adds resonance to Faramir’s character and nicely sets the stage for his role in the final chapter of the trilogy. I haven’t had a chance to sit through all the extras yet, but I did like the documentary showing how they found so many geographically varied locations in tiny New Zealand. I had no idea it was such a beautiful country. Makes me want to visit someday.
Like many minority groups, people with disabilities have developed a dialog that is readily understood by our own community but may be misunderstood by society at large. For example, a person without a disability is a TAB (temporarily able-bodied), a term which implicitly recognizes the fragile divide of circumstance and/or age that separates disability from so-called normalcy. Some of our terms are co-opted from those that society once freely used to describe us. “Cripple” is a good example. I use “cripple” frequently when talking about myself, i.e. “kiss my crippled ass” or “where’s the cripple parking?” or “Not this cripple!” I may use it around other people with disabilities who I know are down with that term. “Yo, cripple, ‘sup?” I never use it in polite conversation, particularly with TABs. If a TAB used that word with me, I’d most likely throttle them. I once had a nurse ask me during her orientation, “What’s it like being a cripple?” Needless to say, she didn’t last long. I know colleagues who will toss the term casually like a Frisbee around TABs in an effort to shock or provoke. I don’t entirely agree with that approach; I think it just confuses the poor things and it distracts them from whatever the rest of our message is. I suspect that I regard the word “cripple” and the rules for its usage in much the same way that many African-Americans regard the N-word. In fact, I see the potential for a true meshing of our cultures. I think “cripple” could be used quite effectively in rap lyrics. Maybe that’s where my calling lies. Ladies and gentlemen, MC Cripple and the Gimp Posse!
I deleted every episode of The West Wing from my TiVo the other day. Ever since Aaron Sorkin left, it’s simply become too painful to watch. The dialog is stilted and pedantic; the characters are dull and irksome; the plots are obvious and unoriginal. Sad, really. Maybe I’ll pick up the DVD set sometime so that I can be reminded of how brilliant the show used to be.
I dragged the Mannheim Steamroller Christmas albums out of the digital closet and onto my iTunes playlist. Their music is highly refined and processed ear candy. It’s perfect background noise. It’s the aural equivalent of getting in the car and driving around to look at the Christmas lights; a complete waste of time but you do it anyway.
It never fails. Whenever I start writing, the phone rings. A friend from high school just called from Texas. Now if I had a disability, Texas would not be tops on my list of places to live. But whatever. He’s involved with a sweet woman who is going through a messy divorce. I think the husband is making an issue of my friend’s disability for purposes of gaining custody of the children. Yuck. I remember when I was dating my previous girlfriend, she had friends and family giving her variations on the whole “Are you sure you want to get involved with someone so sick?” theme. She handled it pretty well, but it still annoyed me that it even came up. I’ve often thought that a relationship between an able-bodied person and a person with a disability has some of the same social stigma that once confronted interracial couples. The two situations have completely different contextual dynamics, but they both force re-evaluations of the dominant culture’s notions of love and the bonds that shape it.
Since college, I’ve had an abiding interest in the Troubles in Northern Ireland. I once thought that if a lasting peace could take root there, it could serve as a model for other troubled regions of the world. However, the latest election results from Northern Ireland don’t give me much hope.
This story about a woman getting trampled at a Wal-Mart affirms my own plans to do all of my holiday shopping on the Web. Navigating a mall full of crazed shoppers and surly teenagers does not instill in me a sense of holiday cheer. I do enjoy clipping the occasional ankle with my wheelchair, but that gets tiresome after the third or fourth victim.
I was watching the Cowboys-Dolphins game yesterday and the halftime show was one of the most nauseating, over-the-top displays of jingoism I have ever seen on television. I think the performer was Toby Keith and he was singing some god-awful lyrics that basically boiled down to rejoicing in kicking some Ay-rab ass. And then there were the fireworks and the flags and the gyrating cheerleaders. I’m usually not one to object to gyrating cheerleaders, but it seemed rather incongruous with the lyrics of the song. Maybe my neck just isn’t red enough to get the whole ambiance Mr. Keith was attempting to create.
New DVD Format Approved. Great. Guess I should start saving up for replacing my current DVD library. Bastards.
So is anyone not having the traditional fare of turkey and the usual suspects? I think it’s interesting to hear how families of different ethnicities incorporate Thanksgiving into their own culinary heritage. If you’re having calamari or dim sum today, proclaim it with pride!
This being a day of thanks, here are some things I’m thankful for (in a secular sort of way, of course):
My family
My nursing staff
My friends, old and new
The iTunes Music Store (ya got nothin’ on me, RIAA!)
My job
The Minneapolis skyway system
Netflix
My health (one year with no respiratory infections, yay!)
All of you, for continuing to read these scribblings of mine.
Your turn…
Tomorrow is Thanksgiving and, as usual, I’ll be doing this holiday solo. My parents usually stay in Wisconsin and I have no real plans. But shed no tears for me. I’ll be kickin’ it and enjoying some football and catching up on some writing. Wherever you are, I hope it’s where you want to be. Have some dry, tasteless dead bird for me.
If you have an overwhelming desire to hear the sound of my voice, I will be doing a Webcast tomorrow at 10 a.m. CST. More information about the topic and how to access the stream can be found here. Listen and be enthralled.
The NY Times has a good piece about medical students with physical disabilities and the overall increase in students with disabilities in college and graduate school. I thought this quote was telling:
Doctors are the least comfortable and often the least knowledgeable about disability issues.
I would argue that it depends on the age and the chosen specialization of the doctor, but yeah, lots of physicians are still pretty clueless about how to interact with people with disabilities. In my previous job, I did monthly lectures for medical students on how to address the needs of adolescents and young adults with disabilities. I really enjoyed the limited contact I had with the students and I like to think I made a small difference in how they treat their future patients.
