A man in a wheelchair recited original poetry to me today. This was after a 4 hour battle with public transportation, not to mention his day-to-day struggles, just so he could take a huge risk. A potentially life altering, for better or for worse, plunge into the unknown. Normally when people tell me they "write poetry" I'm immediately put off, regardless of my passion(?) for writing. This time was no different. But when people tell me they want to recite their original poetry, I'm an attentive audience. To look past the inevitable scrutiny of a complete stranger and say, "Here I am"? I applaud that fortitude. I envy it. His passionate recounting was staggering. I felt what he felt when he wrote it.
He told me a joke too. A joke he probably wanted to tell me much sooner than he did. He was hesitant with me at first, as I was with him. (First impressions, they say, last forever; and forever isn't easily overcome.) But when the time came, I laughed at his joke. Not out of pity or social obligation; because it was funny. As you've already concluded, we'd already spent some time together at this point.
From what he told me, we were meeting today because he was tired of sitting around feeling sorry for himself and his situation. He was done with it. He wanted to do something, not only for himself, but for his son who is getting ready to make his own life-changing decision. He wanted to set an example. Again, I applaud him. He thought I, along with the institution I represent, might be a catalyst to getting where he wanted himself. And it was only me out of happenstance; I didn't know I was going to meet him today.
This man had been bound to his wheelchair for more than half of his life. Not by any decision that he'd made, but by the universe. He was jovial despite his situation. (Like I said, he made me laugh.) There was a point where he talked about his struggles with it. More than I'd expected, again, for having just met him. But he was upbeat. Excited for a potential new opportunity. A chance to do something to buck the trend that has become his daily routine. And something he's been told he should do since as long as he can remember because of his God-given talents; and he had many. An understandably exciting time for him!
Having been on both ends of devastating news I can say there is no "better" side. No easier allegiance. Both parties know what's coming; it doesn't matter who knows first. This scenario, I was the barer of bad news. Part of this decision was out of my hands, but I was still the one he lead on a guided tour through his dream, and his plan to live there. To make it his permanent reality. Despite my initial skepticism I could see his plan taking shape. His passion and unbridled enthusiasm made that possible.
I felt genuine remorse for this man. All he wanted was what he wanted. It doesn't matter how long or what path he took to get there; he was there. He was visibly upset. And here I sat, knowing that initially doubted that he could do it. It was never a question of desire, it was the logistics. (My bio will tell you I'm notoriously a realist. Some have even called it pessimism.) Again, it was inevitably out of my hands and unavoidable, but I felt no different.
We spent some more time together; after the fact. The least I could do was make sure he got to where he needed to be. (As I mentioned, the eternal struggle with the public transportation system in this fair city is no easy task; regardless your traveling circumstances.) I'm pretty sure we both understood one another early on. Why we both were there. No real expectations, but both leaving with an overwhelming sense of disappointment. I wished him well and did leave him with a glimmer of hope, however fleeting, that it'll work out.
And part of me harbors that hope that I'll see him again, and this time we'd make it work and start laying out the blueprints of that dream he so desperately wanted build. Until then he's just that Man in a Wheelchair who gave me more than he'll ever know.
RL
3/22/16
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