It was more than a little ironic that I was reading Gloria Steinem's new book "My Life On the Road" while on our recent trip to California. It was a great book (highly recommend this book!) and was partially responsible for my renewed inspiration to get back to writing on a more regular basis! She wrote from a position of absolute humility and love of humanity that I wish to emulate in my writing.
Anyway, the irony was that I'm reading about this independent woman's journeys and encounters while traveling as an independent woman that's become far more dependent on others and experiencing all kinds of encounters! Mostly good, of course - because I am, after all, still relatively Pollyanna-ish!
First, when in a wheelchair and flying a whole world of people and service awaits. My first encounter was in the Grand Rapids airport where we were greeted at the Delta counter and told an escort was on the way. I didn't think it was necessary, but kept my mouth shut (no small feat, I tell you. I mean I have a lot to share!) and shortly was greeted by Shaquille who whisked us through security - bypassing everyone with our shoes on! He wheeled me to our gate and since we sped through security, there was now plenty of time to chat before boarding. This nice young man works two jobs - one Monday through Friday in a factory and then on weekends at the airport helping people like me. He checked us in at the gate and without incident, this gimpy traveler was on her plane. At Minneapolis, we arrived to find a woman standing on the jetway with my wheelchair and she whisked us through a confusing maze to a waiting cart that whisked us about a gazillion miles (only a slight exaggeration!) to our gate for our connecting flight to San Francisco. The ticket agent moved our seats to be closer to the front of the plane (not first class but not row 80 either!) and then John and I went to get something to eat. We were called over the PA - by name in that mass of humanity (along with another woman in a wheelchair that was closer to 80) to board the plane. And once we disembarked in San Fran we were again greeted by a woman with my wheelchair who took us from our gate to what felt like another state to the car rental building.
This great service had for me many benefits. As a people person, I got to interact with a lot of people and listen to their stories. Joy. As a person not fond of crowds, I got maneuvered through and around throngs. Joy. And, as a person short of energy, I didn't have to waste an ounce stressing over travel. (John still did a lot of that for me, while I got to talk with whomever, wherever!) Joy.
There are, and were, frustrations of traveling while gimpy (TWG) especially in a hilly city like San Francisco for a new-to-four-wheels traveler, but what stuck out for me were not those roadblocks but the blocks that were moved for me so that I could be there. Of course, the greatest mover of blocks is John. I sometimes think he must mull over all the details to see and overcome potential problems and for that I am beyond grateful. As we were walking/rolling through San Fran with my niece Shannon and great-niece Emerson (they live in and are incredibly comfortable around this city), and going down a particularly steep hill - passersby commented, "Just let her go", to John who was holding on to my chair. We all laughed at the thought of Kathleen in her runaway wheelchair, but beneath that laughter I know there was the thought "I'm sad/mad/frightened that Kathleen has to be in the damn chair, but at least it enables her to be out and about".
Because I am a people person, this chair is a blessing because it allows me to be out-and-about; listening, laughing, living, loving all that the world has to offer and to be with God's people sharing my own joy.
Now, I just need to get a better chair so that it's easier to maneuver (especially in snow) and lighter so it's easier to schlep.
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