Pay It Forward Already, Why Don't Ya?

I know we're all familiar with "pay it forward" concept; heck, didn't they even make a movie about it? Like forever ago?

I'm sad to say that, personally, I have only ever experienced one significant random of act of kindness (I'm not going to count the "hold the door open" basic good manners sort of thing). But one time quite a few years ago, while in the drive through at Tim Horton's, I discovered I had no wallet. I had my purse but had somehow managed to leave my wallet at home.

Well, that was awkward.

I was right at the speaker when I realized this but I still could have pulled quickly out of line. Actually, I honestly don't really remember why I didn't now ... I guess I must have really needed that coffee. Anyway, I rolled down the window and explained the situation rather sheepishly, that I just realized my wallet wasn't in my purse, but that I was a regular customer and would they consider letting me pay next time.

Yeah, I admit, that might have been a little ballsy. But that is neither here nor there to my story.

Which continued something like this - the employee asked me to repeat what I had just said and then told me to wait a minute. A new voice came on (male, of course) who repeated my request back to me. Yes, sir. Please, sir. He told me to drive up to the window. Okay, thank you.

It was a cold winter day and I was just about to put my window back up when a voice from behind me yelled out "It's okay. I'll get it." I looked over my shoulder to see the door of the car behind me open and the driver get up and run over to my window. "It's okay. I'll get your coffee for you" and he pushed a twonie into my hand.

[Sidebar: For anyone wondering, this is a twonie. 

You know, twonie ... as in two dollars. 

Ah, there you go. Now you got it.

Just one other thing. 

On the first day, God created a loonie. 

And on the second day, God created a twonie. 

Don't confuse them.

Just. Don't.

We now resume regular our regularly scheduled 

programming already in progress.]

"No, no, that's okay. You don't have to do that" and I tried to hand the twonie back but he was having none of it. "No, that's okay. I want to" and he ran back to his car as I yelled "Thank you!". Well, now I felt even a bit more embarrassed than I had when trying to explain my plight over the speaker. But I also felt something else - a smile spreading across my face. What a nice guy!

I continued to the window, where I handed the twonie over and explained that the person behind me in line had given it to me. Following which, the manager (the male voice on the speaker) walked up, took one quick look at me and said "Oh yeah, I know you. I would have given you the coffee." I laughed, thanked him and drove away with my coffee.

My point of this little story? That there are still good people out there? That we need not give up all hope in this world? Well, sure, maybe, if you really want.

But this little story is all about me and how it made me feel. And, you know what, it made me feel pretty darn good. And it made me realize that I would like to do something like that for someone else some day. (Don't get me wrong - there is a darn good chance I would have made a similar gesture in a similar situation anyway, but this just made me more consciously think about it.)

So, how corny nifty is this? Apparently there exists a global initiative aiming to inspire over three million acts of kindness, a "Pay It Forward Day". And one of the individuals that is heavily involved in promoting this is from the Annapolis Valley, practically my next door neighbour.

And what I think is the best part of it all ...

The interesting thing about the Pay It Forward Day concept is that organizers around the world may never know how successful it is. That is because participants don’t have to register or sign up. 

“There’s no work to it,” Huntley said. “People can do something on their own.” 

On April 24, people from all walks of life can give to someone and make a positive difference.

I like that. It's kind of like the whole "don't let your left hand know what your right is doing", but on a grander scale. So what say you, good people?

April 24th is roughly seven weeks away. Plenty of time to think up a random act of kindness (or two) that works for you. Or just wing it. Whatever.

As long as we don't forget to pay it forward.

Differences Don't Matter

The following poem was written by Jessica Mercola many years ago as part of a diversity contest at her middle school. I found in in an issue of Exceptional Parent magazine back in 2002.

While she wrote about a "she", the sibling in her poem is actually a "he", her younger brother, who is 6 years old, has hypotonic cerebral palsy and profound developmental delay, is non-verbal and non-ambulatory and has the most gorgeous smile and eyes of anyone! [according to Mom and who are we to argue?]

I have brown hair.
She has blond hair. 

I have long hair.
She has short hair.

I am chubby and short.
She is skinny and tall.

I have braces and glasses.
She has freckles and cerebral palsy. 

I can draw, ride a bike and read.
She can't do any of these. 

I can walk and sit.
She has a wheelchair,
and tries to talk
but out comes noises,
silly ones. 

I like to chew.
She likes to go for long walks. 

I am stubborn and loud.
She is sensitive and caring. 

I am outgoing and fun.
She is different and interesting. 

I go to dance.
She goes to therapy. 

I drink from a cup and eat regular food.
She drinks from a bottle and eats pureed food. 

I like to play outside.
She likes to play with noisy toys. 

She doesn't make any choices.
We make them all for her.

I think I have a good life.
Hers could be better. 

Every day I watch her grow,
in sorrow, laughter and snow. 

I hope no one takes her away.
I would be lonely and miss her every day. 

I start every day with the positive
attitude that one day she'll be
just like me! 

I don't care what we are.
I love her anyway. 

I don't care what other people say.
We'll always be sisters and
the best of friends.
That's the way it's going to stay.

Cross-posted at A Primer on Special Needs and the Law

He's Baaaaaaaack

HE'S BAAAAAAAAAAAACK

AND WE STILL LOVE HIM!!

And then, just because I can (and because Canada has had an absoloutely stellar few days at the Olympics), I offer you my all-time favourite Olympic song.

GO CANADA!!!

Lest We Forget

Once upon a time, I use to post on the anniversary of 9/11.

The fact that I haven't recently doesn't mean that I no longer care or have somehow lost interest ... no, I believe it just somehow summarizes the present state of my life.

But when I came across this video for the very first time today, it having been posted on the Super Secret Neptunus Lex Face Book page, I knew I simply must share it with you. Before it is swallowed up once against in the mist of cyberspace.

And so I shall. 

It is beautiful, hauntingly so; don't you agree?

There's a hole in the world tonight. Don't let there be a hole in the world tomorrow.

Wow, what a great video! You tell them, Megan.

   

So what say you?  Let's distribute this far and wide.

Share it on your social networks. Share it with your friends. Show it to your children.

But, most important of all ...

Do. Not. Limit.

Anyone.

H/T to Ashley's Mom at Pipecleaner Dreams

Cross-posted at A Primer on Special Needs and the Law 

On Dreaming

Once upon a time, I asked Lex if he would ever fly again. The question was asked while he was still actively serving, but a few years after he had strapped on a Hornet for the last time. It was beyond clear how much he loved and missed flying so I asked if he would ever consider flying a bugsmasher.

No, he replied, he wouldn't. Something to the effect that having once partaken of government-sponsored crack cocaine, there was no going back to mere commercial flight. I remember thinking that the only cure for that kind of drug must be complete withdrawal.

And it seemed like a reasonable enough response at the time - even though not in my frame of reference (I would jump at the chance to fly any aircraft, bugsmasher or not), I could accept that from his point of view, there simply was no going back.

There was a time and place
Not far from here and now
Maybe a brighter day
Maybe they had it made somehow
Living for there and then
Under a psychadelic spell
No one was listening
Still they had so much to tell 

But isn't it how funny how time changes things?

Whatever happened to the dreamers
They always look beyond the sky
Saw a world they could believe in
But only when they close their eyes  

A mere few years later, Lex took on a weekend job flying tourists and other assorted types in dog-fights, with the occasional learn to fly jaunt thrown in for good measure. And it wasn't long after that, when he took on the challenge of learning to pilot taildraggers.

Next thing I knew, he was back in the fighter pilot game.

There were the politcians
Men of the cloth, painters and poets
Starting a revolution
Without even knowing
Making the world around us
Making heaven and hell
Saying so much about us
Still they had so much to tell  

You left us much, much too soon, sir.

But you left us living your dream. And for that, I will be forever grateful.

Whatever happened to the dreamers
They always looked beyond the sky
Saw a world they could believe 
only when they close their eyes
Where are they nowThey've all left town
Bringing the clouds    

Why are we on our own, why are we on our own  

Nothing's ever been this way before
A dream is just a dream and nothing more
Nothing's ever been this way before
A dream is just a dream and nothing more

But that I can follow your example and, no matter what, never give up on my dreams.

Live Your Life ...

I heard this quote while watching Criminal Minds, of all things, last night. Immediately thought of Lex. To the best of my knowledge, this is exactly how he lived his life.

Live your life so that when your children think of fairness and integrity, they think of you.
H.   Jackson Brown, Jr.

Carry on, sir.

Never Say Never

Untitled from Nep Lex on Vimeo.

He flies again!

When I first started hanging out at Lex's I asked him once in comments whether he had ever considered flying for an airline, it appearing that his fighter pilot days were over. Not that I worded it quite that way, of course!

Anyway, he replied no, he thought he would never fly again. Having once partaken of government-sponsored crack cocaine there was no going back (or down?) to mere commercial flight.

But, as life turned out, a few years later, he took on a weekend job flying tourists and other assorted types in dog-fight flights in these babies. With the occasional  learn-to-fly jaunt thrown in for good measure.

A few years after that, he decided to learn how to pilot taildraggers, whatever they might be.

And now, in his own way, he's back in the fighter pilot game.

Which just goes to show you. Never. Say. Never.

The Art of the Possible

Coming Together To Create Change - A Values, Vision and Action Workshop - the name of the Conference the Kit Kat and I attended this past weekend at the Oak Island Inn.

Co-hosted by both the CACL and the NSACL, it was Part One in a series designed to encourage family leadership in the continuing (some might say never-ending) struggle to obtain for persons with disabilities those things that you and I take for granted - the opportunity to go to school and be educated with our peers, to hold a job (true enough, there may be many days when we would rather not work but have you ever considered life on the other side of the coin?), to choose where and with whom we will live ... to live inclusively in society.

And it struck me yesterday evening (as I suffered through the migraine from Hell) that for me, personally, we could just as easily have renamed yesterday afternoon "The Art of the Possible".

We watched three separate video clips of "success stories" from across the country - in the first, a severely challenged young woman, Amber, moved from a group home into the home a former paid caregiver who had now become a real friend. This truly was a win-win situation for Amber as she now lived as a young adult in a room-mate situation as opposed to as a child in her parent's home or in an instiution, developed a second extended family who embraced her as one of their own, was clearly happy and well-cared for and once again lived nearby her biological family.

In the second clip, we met a young man, Chris, with a keen interest in all modes of public transportation - planes, boats or trains (especially trains); if it moved, he wanted to be on it. After making the move from a group home to his own rented house for a time, he was eventually able to purchase his own home with the help and guidance of his "microboard" - a team of family, friends and service providers who worked together to secure his future. With three paid caregivers, all close in age to Chris, who worked 48-hour shifts (which gave him much more consistency and flexibility in setting his own schedule than the standard three eight-hour shifts per day), he was able to be active and engaged in his community.  And, of course, ride a lot of trains.

And although I had trouble fitting my head around the third clip, it was, perhaps, the most empowering for me, personally. Would you believe that for the past 20 years, students with intellectual disabilities have been attending University in Alberta? Not just community college, but University? Attending and  actively participating in academic classes and intramural sports teams and "graduating" with a certificate right alongside their non-disabled peers?

Yes, I am the first to confess that I have a fair bit of difficulty seeing how that University experience could actually work for these students, but the three clips were certainly an exercise in the art of the possible for me, personally.

You see, for the past few years, we have had this semi-vague, semi-formed plan which involves the Blue Jay attending the NSCC after she finishes high school. The provincial community college system has become much more disability-friendly over the past several years, allowing students with special needs to access the accommodations necessary for them to obtain diplomas in their chosen area of study or, if they are unable to meet all the course outcomes, to participate in those portions of the curriculum that they are able and graduate with a list of employment skills. Since the Blue Jay has a strong interest in cooking, this seemed like a plausible possibility for her future.

But a few months ago, in a conversation with her resource teachers, in which I mentioned this plan (not for the first time) in passing, I was clearly and firmly told that the NSCC was not for the Blue Jay. That those programs were for persons who had an aptitude in a particular area and wanted to develop some more skills. That this was not the Blue Jay.  As I was literally walking out of the room when the comment was made, I simply observed that we would have to agree to disagree on that one. And then exited. Stage left.

And although the comment stunned me somewhat at the time, I really didn't think it had had that much effect on my thinking. But at the end of the day yesterday, I realized that ever since that day, those remarks had been subtly working away at a subconscious level and were starting to make me doubt the appropriateness of our plan. A plan which, by the way, the Blue Jay is fully behind and excited about.

Let's just say that is not so much so anymore. If students who are mentally challenged are successfully attending university with their more typical peers (even if that isn't an option I can picture for the Blue Jay), who are these teachers (or anyone else for that matter) to say that community college is not an option for the Blue Jay, to categorically state that she can not go there?

No, were I to hear those words again, I do believe my response would be much more along the lines of Well, too bad what you think. She has the funding available and if she chooses to go, she will go.

The art of the possible, indeed.

And yet, lest I forget, I witnessed something else equally inspiring and thought-provoking this weekend. Not only did the Kit Kat devote her birthday weekend to attending this Conference (where she was by far the youngest and the only non-parent present), she was actually the moving force in getting both of us there, convincing me that this was an event we should attend.

Yup, I was very proud to stand up today (on her 15th birthday) and acknowledge my daughter in front of our fellow conference participants. She's grown into quite the young lady.  On some days, anyway.

I (Still) Believe

I spent a couple of hours Sunday evening watching the CTV Olympic Winter Games 2010 Anniversary special.  It was an interesting experience.

I didn't write a whole lot about the Olympics last year, but I did watch a fair bit (which is unusual for me) and I was very ... is 'moved' the right word? Perhaps 'inspired'? I'm not quite sure.  But I, like most Canadians, was most definitely something.

And it was amazing how watching the anniversary special was enough to take me right back there.  Right back to those moments, when Alexandre Bilodeau won Canada's first gold at home and when Joannie Rochette skated to her own personal vicotry (and a bronze medal) just days after her mother's death.  And, of course, perhaps the greatest moment of all, Crosbie's gold medal goal at the very end.

Sandwiched in between, of course, was the gold medal of the Canadian women's hockey team and Virtue and Moir's gold in the ice dance competition.  And who could forget Jon Montgomery's triumphant walk through thre streets ofWhistler, complete with a pitcher of beer?

But tell me, how did I miss the story of Mellisa Hollingsworth tearfully apologizing to the nation for not winning a medal in skeleton? I do remember hearing the story in passing at the time but I sadly confess that it didn't stick.  I know, no apology necessary, eh?

Know what else I realized I missed?

Hearing or seeing much coverage of the Paralympic Games which were held immediately after the Olympics last year.  I remember noticiing at the time that I wasn't hearing much on those Games and then, last night, when they showed some of the hightlights from the Paralympics, I realized how much we all  had missed.

So if you're thinking that perhaps, just perhaps, my media choice for the eveining has swept me back in time to a year ago this month, you would be absolutely correct.  Dead right on.

And it's in that spirit that I offer you my one of my all-time favourite songs, "I Believe" as sung by Nikki Yanofsky.

Unfortunately I can't share with you the version of that song I really want to.  At least, not directly on this blog.  I'm afraid you will have to go here to view that.  [Ed.. They disabled the embedding function.  The bastards.]

One other thing that was really rather neat about the anniversary special was the chance to catch up with some of those athletes now, a year later in their lives.  But one person I noticed they didn't profile was Nikki Yanofsky and I have to wonder why not.  Although not an athlete, she definitely played a large part in making the 2010 Olympics what it was for Canadians.

Who Are We To Define DisAbility?

H/T to Ashley's Mom at Pipecleaner Dreams

Can You Say Jealous?

I sure can.  So. So. Jealous.

Visit msnbc.com for breaking news, world news, and news about the economy

Life just ain't fair, I tell ya.

H/T to Lex

How Do You Define Disability?

For some reason I simply CANNOT embed the video but you really need to watch this CBS story about Capt. Scott Smiley. 

Not just another inspirational story of a wounded American soldier, it might just make you question your whole perception of what exactly disability is.  And isn't.

So go.  Promise me you will watch the whole thing. Please.

H/T to Lex

Returning 'Home'

For a girl raised on the prairies (with the exception of a few brief years in the foothills), the move to Cape Breton Nova Scotia was more than a bit of a culture shock.

I was barely 19 and enrolled in Cape Breton University UCCB for my first year of university. Knowing the grand total of one person in the entire Province and never having been past Tawanta before, I know that if I had really stopped and thought about what I was doing, I never would have did it. Fortunately, I wasn't so big into stopping and thinking in those days.

But, yeah, Cape Breton - definite culture shock. Albeit in a good kind of way.

I well recall walking down the street, people walking by and asking "How are you?" while I looked at them literally dumbstruck, wondering "Who are you?". It's not that we weren't friendly out West, it was just that we were a tad more ... reserved. But I soon got use to it and even came to enjoy being called "dear" at least two dozen times a day.

And although the people may have taken some getting use to, I fell in love with the island, itself, within the first few weeks.

I had moved in with a good friend and her parents and within the first few weeks we took a trip around the Trail. The Cabot Trail, that is. It was a long weekend (Labour Day, maybe?) and we took two days, stopping to camp in Cheticamp.

Prairie girl, remember?

One of my brother's favourite (bad) jokes is that he was raised on the Prairies. Where you could watch your dog run away for days. And days. And days.

Whatever. I warned you I thought it was a bad joke.

But with that trip around the Trail, probably around our first (certainly no later than our second) stop to get out of the car and look around, it happened.

I. Fell. In. Love. And fell hard.

The ocean absolutely mesmerized me. Climbing around on the rocks and carrying on was a lot of fun. But I soon discovered that I could easily sit on those rocks and just stare at the ocean. For hours.

And so, it was. I became (at least in my own mind) a Cape Bretoner. Or, at the very least, an honourary one.

I lived in Syndey for three years while I did my undergrad. It was during my last year at UCCB that I met my husband (to be). And although after that I lived in Halifax (another place I love) for three years while in law school and have lived in the Valley for the past 17 years, Cape Breton will always hold a special place in my heart.

And so when, a few years ago, I realized that my own girls have never been around the Cabot Trail (and have rarely been to the Island, for that matter - only once that they can now remember), I decided it was time to do something about that. That a Trip was long overdue - not a trip to Sydney to visit relatives but one where the girls could really experience the Cabot Trail.

And so it is that we leave tomorrow to spend a few weeks in Cape Breton. As it worked out, we will stay in 3 very different places - Dundee Resort (thanks to a very generous gift certificate from a friend) on the Bras D'Or Lakes, the Sea Parrot (on the Island's North Shore) and Inverness Beach Village - which, all in all, pretty well covers off a very large chunk of the Trail (and the Island, for that matter).

And so, it should be fun. We will visit family, lay on the beach, play in the waves, climb some rocks, have a few bonfires and enjoy our beverage(s) of choice.

The Home of my Heart ... Cape Breton.

Words of Wisdom

Just not mine.

I grew up with practical parents who had been frightened by the Great Depression in the 1930′s. A mother, God love her, who washed aluminum foil after she cooked in it, then reused it. She was the original recycle queen, before they had a name for it. A father who was happier getting old shoes fixed than buying new ones.

Their marriage was good, their dreams focused. Their best friends lived barely a wave away. I can see them now, Dad in trousers, tee shirt and a hat and Mom in a house dress, lawn mower in one hand, and dish-towel in the other. It was the time for fixing things: a curtain rod, the kitchen radio, screen door, the oven door, the hem in a dress. Things we keep.

It was a way of life, and sometimes it made me crazy. All that repairing, eating, renewing, I wanted just once to be wasteful. Waste meant affluence. Throwing things away meant you knew there’d always be more.

But then my father died, and on that clear fall night, in the warmth of the hospital room, I was struck with the pain of learning that sometimes there isn’t any more.

Sometimes, what we care about most gets all used up and goes away … Never to return. So .. While we have it … it’s best we love it .. And care for it … And fix it when it’s broken … And heal it when it’s sick.

This is true … For marriage … And old cars … And children with bad report cards … And dogs and cats with bad hips .. And aging parents … And grandparents. We keep them because they are worth it, because we are worth it. Some things we keep. Like a best friend that moved away or a classmate we grew up with.

There are just some things that make life important, like people we know who are special … And so, we keep them close!

H/T to Mongo at Lex's

I Don't Do Poetry

I don't do poetry.

But I just wasted spent an amzing past hour or so flipping through this man's videos - Miracle Workers, Undivided Attention, Depression Too is a Type of Fire, For The Life of Me, Labeling Keys and Defending American Interests, among others.

Many others. Check this one out. Possibly one of the best funniest. Go ahead, I'll wait.

I don't do poetry.

But the guy is amazing. The man that brought us "The The Impotence of Proofreading" - him, I could do listen to all day.

To have him as a teacher, that would have been something.

The Post With No Name

When the Blue Jay was younger, I developed a mantra. For survival.
Daily life was tough back then, no doubt it.

The mantra, which I shared with many other parents whose children had intractable epilpsy, was simple.

This too shall pass.

Or.

This. Too. Shall. Pass.

Depending on the day.

But don't fret, this is not going to be a downer post.

Nope. This. Will. Make. You. Smile. Honest.



How in the world do some people find these things?

H/T to Kris at Reflections by Kris

PS ~ By the way, they're not actually a, you know, marching band.

Just Because I Can

Confession time.

I fell in love again today.

Nope not with a guy. Might just be I found something better.

I think I might have linked to this video last year, not quite sure. But whether I did or not, it's going up again now.

Why? Because it still gives me goosebumps.



Sure, you can watch it above. But it's waaaaaaaay better full screen.

Like this. Trust me.

A Good Day

I had a good day today, I did.

Went into the city early this morning to give a presentation on the issue of guardianship. I mentioned previously about working on a putting together a guardianship kit for parents interested in obtaining guardianship of their adult children with disabilities.

I'm pleased to say that the kit is almost complete. Almost ready for public consumption. Almost.

Too bad it's *almost* considering I no doubt could have sold a few today. Probably quite a few by the sound of it.

I was asked by HACL to give a presentation on guardianship. The room wasn't all that big so they capped registration at 45. And the room was full.

Took along a friend who had obtained guardianship of her son last year. With my help. Took along another friend who had also obtained guardianship of her son last year through Legal Aid. Met up with two other parents at the seminar who had obtained guardianship of their children yesterday. With my help. Yeah, I think I see a pattern developing here.

It was great to have the other parents there as they could speak first hand to my contention that this could be done without hiring a lawyer. Provided you had the right kind of help.

The session went well - I really enjoy doing this kind of thing.

The room was very appreciative; I repeatedly fielded the question of when exactly the kit would be done.

In fact, one of the parents who came up to speak to me at the end told me he thought I should leave now. So I could finish the kit. I told him I would kind of like to have lunch first. He was amenable to that but really wanted to know when it would be done. Two weeks? he asked. No, not two weeks. When then? Clearly getting that the man was not going to give it up, I told him one month. He seemed happy with that and went on his way.

Proceeded to lunch with my two friends. Not being in any hurry to get home, we took the ferry across the harbour and enjoyed a leisurely lunch with a nice view of the water.

It was a little bit like the The Three Musketeers Ride Again - once upon a time, many, many, many years ago, the three of us had formed a cross-disability parent support group locally. Interest waxed and waned (although we definitely did have some fun along the way) but the three of us were the core group, the Three Musketeers.

Moseyed back home, joined the family for supper.

And then headed out to the movies with one of my friends. Sent the kids to see The Last Song; my friend and I went to The Bounty Hunter.

The movie was a nice distraction, far from an outstanding movie but I've been having really bad luck with movies lately so ... yeah, this one was a nice end to a good day.

Purple People