Skip to main content

Four-wheeling in the city


"This is my kind of town
Chicago is my kind of town
Chicago is my kind of people too
People who smile at you and

Each time I roam
Chicago is calling me home...

Chicago is one town that won't let you down
It's my kind of town"



I have always felt this way about Chicago - the city of my birth and the city I love most. 

Until my trip last week, I would have said it was an easy city to get around in - and it still is if you're two-footing. But if you're four-wheeling and the sidewalks are snow-covered and the temps are below zero (below zero before the wind chill!!), it's a little more challenging. And I had help schlepping around the city with Delaney pushing my chair and loading it in-and-out of trunks (with the help of some interesting Lyft/taxi drivers). While queing up to enter the CIBC theatre to see Hamilton (incredible, worthy of the hype!!!) in those sub-zero temps, we met a kind couple that empathized with our plight and helped move us along so we could more easily get inside as there were several pushy patrons (say that fast three times!) making that seemingly easy task, difficult.

I'm willing to think the best of 'pushy-patrons' - that maybe they just don't see the woman in the wheelchair because they're so focused on getting inside or moving ahead. They're looking up and ahead, not down and to their side.

Delaney and I went shopping as well. A few of the stores did not have their accessible doors unlocked, because we learned that once those doors are opened the wind (it's the windy city after all!) prevented them from closing automatically. I get that and was grateful when one store clerk spotted us outside and literally ran to open the door for us. And I'm grateful to all the fellow shoppers that helped by opening or holding doors for us.

We went to a restaurant that had a lift for wheelchairs - but only one person on staff that knew how to operate it! And another restaurant with a lift that looked scary and as if it hadn't been used in awhile. Delaney and I took one look at it, looked at one another and agreed it was safer if I walked down the stairs. She then carried the chair down the stairs and I'm glad I have a lighter chair and a strong daughter!!

And that was my take-away from our recent trip. I am grateful I have a strong daughter who is willing to schlepp for and explore with me (and I'm confident Michael and Matthew would do the same) because I couldn't do it without you. Some battles or adventures are now too big for me to attempt by myself and I know that coming to that realization is HUGE for this strong-willed (not stubborn), independent woman. Admitting it does not mean I am weak, because it takes strength to ask for and accept help (especially from your children). I plan to do as much as I can for myself for as long as I can, but I will ask for help when needed. Because I'm strong!!

The Windy City may have lost some of it's allure for me, but it's still my favorite!

Comments

Post a Comment

It's not a popularity contest, but ...

holding on for dear life

  Tuesday was cool, the morning especially. And while working at the Book Nook I saw people dressed for two seasons -summer and fall. Lots of plaids, flannel and boots or booties worn by customers that I assumed were anxious for fall. Not me. I'm holding on to summer for dear life. I wore a sleeveless dress, sandals and a cotton sweater. I mean here in Michigan we will be donning those fall duds and not showing skin again for at least eight months. And while I'm not good at a math, I know that eight months is most of the year. According to my calculator that's 66 percent of the year (66.666667 to be exact - my math 094 professor at MSU would be impressed that I knew that if I'd done it myself. But I'm smart enough to use a calculator to come up with that - like I used to tell her every class "we don't need to know how to do that, we can just use a calculator". Pretty sure I wasn't her favorite).  Boy did I digress with that walk down memory lane. A...
2 comments
Read more

Old? Infirm?

A friend sent this article to me today: Are you Old? Infirm? I can relate. Though  I'm not old - despite what the three-year-olds in my Sunday school class say. And I am not infirm - and I'll wack over the head with my cane anyone, repeat anyone , that would call me that. I resemble Nancy in the article. She calls herself crippled. And Mr. Bruni wrote, " I confessed that I cringed whenever she called herself “crippled,” which she does, because she values directness and has a streak of mischief in her." I prefer the term 'gimp' and have also had others cringe when I say that. I like the term they arrived at "limited" but it's not perfect - maybe just a little more politically correct. I have felt that diminishment when in my wheelchair. But being a tad feisty and Irish, I fight that with every ounce of my being. My personality has always been a little on the large side and not very quiet or shy, so I make it a challenge to 'be see...
Post a Comment
Read more

When an ass is so much more

  Body image. Body positivity.  Or about coming to an appreciation for a previously much maligned back end.  In junior high (that's middle school for all of you non boomers), I was given the nickname "big butt Bowen". It was a nickname that stung because I did indeed have a large ass. I tried to mask it, a difficult endeavor since the current fashion (and remember this is junior high when fitting in was paramount) was wearing hip hugger jeans with midriff tops and my disguise of choice were peasant blouses or dresses. That style choice earned an additional nickname, Mama Cass. For those of you that don't know who Mama Cass was, she was part of the Mamas and Papas and known for her beautiful voice but also for her large body.  All about Mama Cass I was cruelly nicknamed at a time when nicknames can really mess with a girl's psyche. And I spent a lifetime as that girl with the messed up psyche. I'm sure there are more than one of you out there that can relate. B...
Post a Comment
Read more