I have three little impressions for a blog today. None make enough for one full blog but I don't want the impressions lost. So, here, for your amusement and perhaps edification are three little things that I noticed from the past few days:
What's In a Name?
I met a man with Down Syndrome at one of the abuse prevention trainings, who had an odd first name. It's not one often heard, even though it is the first name of a really famous author. I chatted with him about his name and he told me, and told me proudly, that he'd been named after his father. So he had a 'the second' after his name. I can't believe how incredibly this moved me. He was a child born different, with a difference noticeable at birth. He was born during a time when many families equated disability with sin and shame, when many made the decision to hide away what must not be known. He was born into a social lineage of abandonment but was claimed into a familial lineage of pride. I wish I could have met his father. I'm imagining a man of incredible strength with a capacity for love, remarkable.
The X Factor
We went to see the new X-men film: First Class at the theatre. It was full, mostly of men, mostly with comic book ink permanently stained on their finger tips. Me, too, I like these kinds of movies and I'd been looking forward to seeing this one. In this film it is explained how Professor X ends up in a wheelchair. For the first part of the film he is in typical action hero mode. At the end, no I won't spoil it, it is revealed how he becomes disabled. Now the whole film has this 'mutant and proud' kind of message (that becomes a little grating, I must remember that) throughout the story line. I had hopes then, that Professor X's eventual disability would be treated as simply another exceptionality - not a tragedy. Well, not to happen. While they didn't dwell on the 'tragic' nature of his landing in a wheelchair, they did certainly telegraphic the message strongly. Oh, well. I guess some mutants are more valued than others.
Joe found a picture, the one that was taken formally at our graduation from university, and we both laughed looking at it. Hopeful faces, me with lots of hair, Joe with big hair. What most wouldn't know when looking at those two faces in the picture was the story behind the picture. We both had our appointments for our individual photo's one following the other. We drove there together and after we'd both had them done, we asked for the final shot to be of us together. The photographer flat out refused. R.E.F.U.S.E.D. No way he was going to 'waste a shot'. There was a real verbal tussle with him. This was a battle that we weren't going to lose. It was our money paying for the photographs, it was our decision as to what we wanted shot. We got the picture simply because, even though he got louder (as I think he realized that we weren't 'best buds' as he'd first thought, we were something more) we simply met his volume with our defiance. I like that picture not because I like revisiting a time of 'hair' but because it symbolizes for me the men we were to become.
So, do any of you have a simple little tidbit you'd like to share, if so, please do!