PeeWee's Scam

One of the places Mr. Man and I frequent is located in a quaint little town just down the road from our domicile. The last couple of times I've been there I noticed a dude with a guitar sitting outside in the town square strumming. The first time I noticed him playing, I thought he was really drunk because the notes he was playing were all kinds of messed up. His "singing" sounded like the ramblings of a really drunk guy. I shrugged it off and went about my way.

The next time I saw him in the same spot doing the same thing I decided to walk a little slower and check him out. That's when I noticed his walker parked beside the bench where he sat. I also noticed that he wasn't strumming the guitar with his fingers. He was sort of banging them with his fist. And his singing wasn't drunk rambling, it was a guttural attempt at speech. You see, this dude had cerebral palsy.

The third time I saw him, we were both in a bar listening to music. He was at the bar and was attempting to dole out money to the waitress but wasn't having much luck. I stopped and offered to help him and he accepted (I think). I invited him to join me and my friends at a table and he accepted. Introductions were made and I think that he was pleased to have new friends to sit with. Because of his physical limitations, he had to drink his beer through a straw in an over sized glass. Maybe he had already had a few - maybe he hadn't, all I know is that he seemed to be struggling so I helped him out. His movements were so spastic it nearly broke my heart.

During the course of the evening, everyone at the table helped him and even included him in our rounds of beer. The conversation was one sided for the most part because he couldn't enunciate words but we managed. At one point I realized that he was able to do more than I had previously thought and I called him on it. He gave a sly grin. I started kidding him that he was a scam artist and that I bet he was faking the whole disability thing so he could pick up cute girls like me and get free beer. He was roaring with laughter and the twinkle in his eyes couldn't be ignored. I think the other people at our table were horrified that I was talking to him that way but they couldn't hear our entire "conversation" so they didn't know that the jig was up.

I used to work in a hospital physical therapy department so I'm used to people in all stages of disability. I also have a personal connection to cerebral palsy because my cousin has it so it doesn't make me uncomfortable. I know that people with this malady are usually very sharp in the mind. It's their poor bodies that don't function like they want them to. They jerk their limbs, drool, have trouble controlling their heads, have trouble speaking and so on and so on and so on. It's a shame that they intimidate some "regular" people because they have the same hopes and dreams and likes and dislikes just like all of us.

Pee Wee managed to stumble all the way through the town square to the bar to hear good music. He enjoyed a beer and some good jokes - or at least he didn't complain about mine. Hey, I had a captive audience (wink wink, nudge nudge).  My 12 year old happened to be with me when this all took place and later she asked me why I asked him to sit with us. I asked her if she'd rather go to hear good music with friends or all alone. She agreed that sharing good times with friends makes the good time even better. She asked me if I was nervous because he couldn't talk. I told her that I wasn't because there are more ways than one to communicate. She asked me if I was glad Pee Wee came to sit with us and I told her that I really, really was. I like to think that I've added another new friend to my list.

If you're out and about and you encounter someone who is way, way different than you - someone who has disabilities that make you uncomfortable just remember that inside that broken body there is a person. And even if that person can't communicate in a way that you can clearly understand, you can still enjoy something together and have yourselves a good chuckle. I'm so glad I introduced myself to Pee Wee. I think he's glad he met me, too. He could have run away from me but he chose to stay. Maybe it's because I told him that he was faking it to get hot chicks and that he was full of shit. I didn't pity him. I treated him just like I would treat any of my "normal" friends.

I Went Parachuting

Even though I'm a big chicken, I like to think that I'm adventurous. I like to do

quasi-dangerous things. When I was younger and didn't have offspring I used to do lots more crazy stuff but the kidlets sort of took the steam out of my sails. One fine day way back when, my gal pal Miss Thang and I decided that we wanted to go parachuting.  We found a place that could make that dream come true so off we went. My hubster got wind of our plans and decided that he needed to go as well - even though he has a fear of heights. Hello? We were going to ride in a stripped out plane up to the altitude of 10,000 feet, hang from the strut then let go, falling at 120 miles per hour towards hard packed earth. But he was insistent so we let him go.

We met some really nice guys who explained the whole shebang and they had us sign 2,000 release forms absolving them from anything they ever did for the rest of their lives. Next up was getting fitted with the jump suit and parachute harness. Let me tell ya, if you don't know the person helping you get your harness on you will after it's all said and done. I was trussed, tied, patted and manhandled all in the name of safety.  I felt sort of dorky in the getup but then again, I didn't want to be bare skinned in case I managed to hit a bird or bug or Boeing 747 on my way down. Next on the list of things to do was that I learned how to maneuver out and off of the airplane. As you can see, that plane was pretty dang small! Coupled with the fact that my jump master was firmly attached to me (we did a tandem jump), it was rather comical to see us crawling around.

The strut is what I was supposed to hold on to before we let go. Can you see the iron grip I have on the thing? And we're not even off of the ground!

This is how I was supposed to gracefully

position my body once I let go. In reality, my jump master had to bang my hands to make me let go of the strut. In my lessons, he told me that he'd tap on the backs of my hands to let me know that it was time to jump. But it didn't work out quite that

way. I'm sure the dude tapped on my hands. I'm sure he pounded on my hands. I'm sure he screamed at me to let the hell go but I wasn't aware of it. He practically had to rip my arms off before I let go. And then, before I was ready we sailed off into the wild blue yonder.

I mentioned that we jumped from an altitude of 10,000 feet. When I glanced out of the door before my jump master forced  prompted me to exit the plane, I think this is how it looked down below. I'm pretty sure my vision didn't fail me because I also recall seeing something like this:

Everything on the ground looked so teeny! I had never had, nor have I had since, hiney cringes as huge as I did on that jump. I imagine that my screaming could be heard clear around the globe. Hell, people on Mars could probably hear me. OK, that's not true. I was actually so scared when we jumped that I couldn't get a sound out. I think it might have felt better if I could have screamed but my breath was literally taken away.

I also got a spectacular skin treatment when I jumped. I think they call it the 120 mile per hour facial. The person in this cool picture isn't me but I'm positive I looked just like this. The free fall lasted almost a minute and the rest of the ride down was really cool and peaceful. The only bad part was when the parachute opened. The harness that was around my legs almost severed them. I guess that happens when you're going over 100 mph and you suddenly stop. I had bruises like a badge of honor for over a week afterwords but they were worth it.

I was so excited and hyped after my jump, I don't think I came down for a week. Parachuting was the most exhilarating thing I've ever done...so far. Because I also want to ride in the space shuttle and walk on the moon and base jump into that huge cave that's somewhere in South America and those activities might surpass the parachuting adventure but for now, I'm happy. I firmly believe that life is incredibly short, and you shouldn't let your fears get in the way of what you want to do. What would be worse than living a "safe" life that was dull and boring? Go ahead, let go of the strut and free fall. The rush is unbelievable.