*Name changed for privacy reasons
I had the honor of meeting an incredible individual today. I apologize if this story seems like one long ramble, but I’ll do the best I can to make my thoughts concise and cohesive.
In Stuyvesant Square Park with a book and some time in between classes this afternoon, I couldn’t help but enjoy the beautiful sun and the cool spring breeze surrounding me as I claimed a spot on a bench and settled in for a nice sit outdoors. Kids had just gotten out of school so there were several mother/nanny and child pairs strolling through, teenagers were huddled around picnic tables gossiping and laughing, older adults were sitting with books and newspapers…There weren’t too many people around, but there were enough different people to provide a fun and interesting atmosphere. I opened my book to begin reading Water for Elephants (I’m so excited to really get into it) when I noticed someone in a motorized wheelchair go by in front of me out of my peripheral vision. I didn’t think anything of it. The person passed me, but only got about 10 feet away or so before turning himself around to get my attention, which is when I looked up. I noticed right away that he was seriously physically disabled; his legs were limp, his right foot dangling beneath the footstool and not even brushing the ground, his fingers were splayed and very tense and couldn’t move independently and he held his face lopsided, chewing on the top right side of his mouth and drool was flowing down his chin, but he didn’t do any damage to himself seeing as half of his teeth were missing. His motions were jerky but slow, and his mouth was wide open as he let out some audible but not understandable sounds. He could speak, but it was nearly impossible for me to understand.
Here’s the first interesting thing I learned about myself in all of two seconds: The defensive city mentality one picks up on quickly when living here is more engrained in my mind than I’d thought. Immediately when I realized he wanted something my heart started racing and I began thinking of ways to get out of having to face whatever situation I was about to encounter. Before I had time to start thinking too much, however, he began wheeling himself to where I was sitting which is when I noticed the keyboard. Just after I saw that I heard, “Hello. My name is *Mike. Can I talk to you? I need someone to talk to…A friend.” The words were coming out of a speaker in the keyboard and after getting over the initial shock of the computerized tone of his voice and the unexpectedness of the whole thing, I replied by saying, “Sure!” though not exactly sure what I was supposed to do or say next, if anything.
Before getting into the conversation, let me just say that this conversation was very slow, which was something else that completely threw me. Because of Mike’s immobility and the lack of control he had over his hands, it took him a long time to type his thoughts into his keyboard, and we’d sometimes sit in silence for minutes at a time while he worked diligently. (And yes, I do mean worked. I’ll go into this later, but for my new friend, the simple act of communicating was a real task, and by observing his process I learned a lot about my own perception of time and communication. Again, I’ll go into that later. First, the conversation!)
“What are you doing?” Mike asked me.
“I’m just doing a little reading! I have some free time right now so I’m just enjoying some time on this beautiful day!” I replied.
“I have work to do.” Mike said.
“Oh really?” I asked. “What do you have to work on?”
“I am in school.”
“Very cool! What are you studying?”
I think his first response to my question was full of typos because the sounds that the computer made and spelled didn’t make any sense. He tried again.
“I want to be a writer, “ he said.
“Oh wow! That’s awesome! I love reading! Do you like to read?” I probably sounded dumb by asking that question, but I was still a bit thrown off the whole thing. Mike nodded his head, but I could tell he was thinking more about what he was going to say next. I actually asked the next question.
“What’s your favorite thing to write about?”
“Life and love,” he replied. I thought that was incredible.
“That’s awesome!” I said. (I was very repetitious in this particular conversation this afternoon.) “Love is beautiful, isn’t it??”
He looked at me and kind of half nodded, half shook his head. He may like to write about love, but he wasn’t convinced that what I’d said was true.
The next thing he said to me was, “Love is war.”
I smiled. “Yeah, you’re right about that, but it’s also a beautiful thing, isn’t it? It can be pretty great, right?”
He looked at me and started to try to speak with his own voice again, and I did the best I could to try to pick up on what he was trying to say but was having some trouble. (Mike’s facial expressions were very helpful…I liked seeing him smile because it was big and wide and his eyes got squinty and sparkly.) I decided to prompt the conversation next.
“What do you love? What kinds of things do you write about that you love?”
I’m going to paraphrase his next thought because I really can’t remember the exact words, but he sort of changed the subject a little by saying something along the lines of how he likes to talk, but talking makes us mad. My heart dropped at this point because I could really begin to see the sorrow in his eyes.
“Does talking always make us mad though?” I asked.
He shook his head and made a sound resembling a “No,” and I said, “Just sometimes?” He nodded. “It’s okay though!” I said. “It’s okay to be mad sometimes, but sometimes talking can make us happy! What makes you happiest?”
He looked at me, he looked around and he began to type. What I heard come out of his keyboard’s speaker this time did it for me.
“I need people to need me, but all they see is four wheels.”
I need people to need me, but all they see is four wheels.
I was speechless. And probably gave the dumbest response possible by basically rephrasing what he said in question form.
I need people to need me, but all they see is four wheels. (Needless to say, this statement has stayed with me all afternoon.)
He nodded in reaction to my dumb question though, and at this point I decided it was probably a good time to thank him for coming over to talk with me. (Thank goodness Mom and Dad taught me “Please” and “Thank you” at such a young age, because the smallest “Thank you” put that beautiful smile right back on Mike’s face. He really was stunning.)
Mike threw me off guard again with his next question, asking me what I need and why we don’t talk about it? I told him I didn’t understand the question and he said, “You have needs.” Now, being a 20-year-old girl in a world where having “needs” refers to things I’d rather not talk about here, my mind was fast to begin to question his intentions. But I stopped my mind just as fast, for I knew he didn’t mean anything harmful by that statement.
So I said, “You’re right! I definitely do have needs, just the same as you do! Maybe not the same ones, but I’ve definitely got them! But right now I’m just sitting here, talking to you and enjoying this beautiful day so I don’t think I need much more than that!”
He thought for a minute and then asked, “Do you want to get something to eat?” I couldn’t help but smile again. What a sweet guy! But, again, for safety’s sake, I felt that that was an offer I had to pass up. But a “thank you for the offer” put that smile right back on his face.
This was the part of the conversation that I like the most because for the next few exchanges he wasn’t using his computer but I could fully understand everything Mike was trying to say to me. I’d told him I was going home tomorrow when he asked if I’d want to get food, and he (barely) verbally asked, “Where?” I told him I live in Virginia, and asked “Long?” for how long I’d be away. I told him I wasn’t totally sure, a few days and he nodded and thought again. I asked if he lived around the area and he nodded. I asked if he’d lived in New York his whole life and his face lit up as he nodded even bigger. I asked if he liked living in the city and I got the same response. All of it was understood without the computer. Really, really awesome to me.
By now it was time to get back to class, so I apologized that I had to leave but it was time to get going. I’d missed a call from Lila and called her back really quickly so we could meet up to walk back to the studio, but as I got my things together and before I dialed her number, Mike smiled again and stretched out his hand. I shook it as I stood up and while I found out where Lila and I were meeting up, Mike was busy typing one last time. I hung up the phone and heard, “You have something there,” and he was pointing to his head. A leaf had fallen in my hair and he just wanted to let me know before I left! (Again, what a sweet guy!) I laughed and thanked him again for his time, he smiled and began to roll away and waved and said, not typed, goodbye as we parted ways. I looked back through the iron fence as I headed back toward Third Avenue and Mike wheeled away through the people filtering through Stuyvesant Square, leaving as quietly and peacefully as he’d arrived.
I couldn’t be more thankful right now for the opportunity I had to share those 45 minutes with Mike in the park and I really hope I run into him again in the future. His spirit, though troubled, was so inspiring. I was humbled today in a major way by witnessing someone who has the desire for so much, but no means by which to execute much and definitely not quickly. As I sat and watched him think and type and literally work at carrying on this conversation, the slow pace really allowed me to study him. I could see his brain working a thousand miles a minute, but his stiff hands just couldn’t keep up. His brow was furrowed in concentration and every so often he’d look up to see if I was still engaged; he was very attentive to everything. I could tell that so much was going on inside, so much that was itching to come out—and that was able to come out eventually!—but because of his physical state the pace of his physical activity was on a much slower rate than much of New York City. It was much slower than the pace at which I live, anyway. Which really made me think about the way I’ve been carrying myself lately. Always running around, always connected to someone in some way, never stopping, and constantly acting without thinking…We live in a world these days that is always in motion and things are always needing to be done. But during my time with Mike in the park this afternoon, everything else stopped. My phone kept buzzing but I just couldn’t answer at the time. I had to get back to class but I’d leave when I left. The only necessary thing that had to happen at that time with having a simple conversation with a new friend, and I was able to really embrace that because Mike’s only goal was to just talk. Nothing else and without a catch. The cars were flying by on Second Avenue outside the fence, the pigeons were swooping by, people were coming and going, but none of that mattered in the least.
People always say to live in the moment, but in today’s reality it can be argued that that is a nearly impossible task. I sure do argue that on a daily basis usually. And then, when I am trying to live in the moment I know that I can be quick to judge and justify based on what’s right before my eyes without taking the time—taking the time—to learn and understand. That’s not living in the moment. That’s just drawing conclusions before diving in.
I need people to need me, but all they see is four wheels.
No comments:
Post a Comment