Out and About

Okay so first, check out this picture I just found.  Pretty amazing, right?  It's got nothing to do with this post though.  Except that every post should have a picture. It's the mark of good taste, as they say.

Out at the market today, the boys and I had the pleasure of meeting Bradley.  As always, I was almost completely oblivious to my surroundings and was disdainfully poking through various raw meats and trying to decide which was the least disgusting, when I heard a very loud, "help!" coming from behind me.  I turned to see a guy in an electric wheelchair who was struggling, and failing, to balance a basket of food and a 24-pack of water bottles on his lap. He introduced himself and said that he needed help with turning his basket around, which was easy enough to do, although it was hard to say whether it actually helped.

I stood there for a bit, awkwardly wondering what I should do next while Bradley struggled to keep his groceries in his lap.  Finally, it occurred to me to ask if there was anything else I could do.  It seemed like it was as much of a struggle for him to find the right words as it was for him to move his limbs but eventually, he was able to tell me that he didn't know what else he wanted to get, but whatever it was, it had to be easy to make.  I looked at what he had: Milk, water, eggo waffles, and otterpops, and realized that he was missing a key food group -- pizza pockets.  I loaded a giant bag of them into his basket before it occurred to me that his basket wouldn't be constantly on the verge of falling to the floor if I just put it into my cart.  I also realized just then that he was going to have to get all this stuff back home and asked him how he was planning on doing all that.

He said that this was his third time to the grocery store since moving out on his own and he was still working out the kinks but he was planning on taking all the water bottles out of the pallet and stuffing them, along with everything else, in his bag that was hanging over the back of his chair.  I was somewhat dubious about him pulling off such a feat (even though I'm sure people would jump in and help, I couldn't help but picture him struggling in the meantime) so I asked him if I could help him check out and arrange everything. He was pretty nonchalant about the whole thing, not trying to guilt me into doing more for him and also not acting as though I was some sort of busy body for continuing to ask if I could help.  Which...I kind of felt like anyway.  While simultaneously feeling like I was doing laughably little for someone who had it so much harder than I do.  Strange mix of feelings, that.

While we were waiting to check out, Bears commented on Bradley's full arm tattoo. I couldn't read it but he proudly told me it said, "psychopathic juggalo." Not knowing what a juggalo was, and too scared to ask since I knew what psychopathic meant, I just laughed nervously.  And I have...the worst. nervous. laugh. ever. I don't know what to compare it to but basically, I charm the hell out of people with it.  Or so I'm told.  Told by myself, that is.  But I suppose that's neither here nor there.  When it came time to pay, he asked for help in getting his Horizon card out and swiping it.  When he reached to enter his pin, the true extent of his disability showed.  It took almost 30 seconds of him trying to wrangle his arm and hand to do his mind's will. I cannot even imagine what that must be like.  But I guess no one can who's body has yet to betray them like that.

While I was getting his stuff all arranged, he started telling me about how he had been hit by a car and that's what had led to him being in his current state. It was so poignant, thinking of him being completely capable and self sufficient not long ago, just like me.   The only thing differentiating our fates is simple bad timing on his end.  It was such a...humbling thought. After I'd gotten his stuff all loaded up, I asked if there was anything else I could do.  He said, "nope,"  and offered his hand.  I took it, thinking he meant to shake it but with surprising strength, he wrenched my hand down, pulling my face close to his.  It was at this point that I remembered his tattoo reading something about being a psychopath and I realized that I may have made a huge mistake...when he planted a kiss on my cheek and enveloped me in a bear hug.  I can't really put into words the incredible warm-fuzziness of that moment.  It was pretty great

I started to blush something furious, he teased me for it, and we said our goodbyes. I just...I can't imagine the amount of courage that it takes to go about daily life with a disability like that.  And to be warm and open to other people instead of just bitter and closed off...it was.  well.  It was something pretty cool to be around.  I should also mention that I'm so proud of the boys for being champs.  It was such a little thing, 20 minutes of our time, but those with tiny kids know that they can make 20 minutes turn into an eternity if they're so inclined.  Especially at the grocery store.

Oh.  and Google tells me that Psychopathic Juggalo is an Insane Clown Posse reference, in case anyone was concerned.  I guess finding that out could lead to further worry, though, if you're the type to stress over someone's taste in music.