Pink Nikes and a Life Philosophy

"I like your sneakers," I told her.

How could I not comment? They were huge hot pink boats. And they were only inches away from my face.

I was doing push-ups on the gym floor. And Jennifer was just standing there flipping through the tv channels looking for any kind of sports.

"They're size eleven," she said. "They have to be so big because I have pins in my feet," she said.

Jennifer is a disabled gym member who has lived in Woodside for 35 years. I suspected she had MS because of her slow and slurred speech and the way she seemed to drag half her body around. She typically wore a brace and she moved so spasmodically I wondered how she got around at all.

But somehow we got into a conversation about her condition. It was the first time we spoke. I guess you could say that it was the first time I slowed down enough to listen. Turns out she developed a "brain virus" while working in the city. She pointed to her head calmly telling me about the dozens of lesions that we formed on her brain. She told me how she slowly lost her speech, how her left side began drooping, how she couldn't remember things. Her boss thought she was on drugs. Her friends were really worried; her mom too.


"I've been through so many tests," she says. The doctor thought she had Lyme disease, MS...but it turns out it was ADHM (I can't find any information on this).

"'Were you travelling?' I asked. I needed some sort of excuse. I wanted to put the blame somewhere.

"My doctors say it's just luck," she told me.

Um. Luck? WTF? Who accepts that?

Jennifer did.

As we talked about the 80s, she became much more animated. What a great decade, she mused. I had a car, I was in high school, I had friends.

"Life was good. I had a full life," she explains to me. "That's why I'm not that upset that this happened now," she says.

Somewhere, in the back of my chest, something turned over.

You know, I meet people every day who make a good salary, are happily married, go on fantastic vacations and have a world of options laid out before them. And still, they're miserable. They want more. Or they want something else.

Even I want more--more experiences, more time, more stability, more things.

But how often do you meet someone who accepts a terrible fate and learns to be happy with what they have? I get upset if my Saturday night plans are ruined. I get pissy when I have to share my weekends with my parents. I get mad when it rains ad nauseum. But what if I was unable to speak? If I lost my memory? If a brain virus decided to pick me and erase the life I've built? That's problems.

That's real problems.

It's people like Jennifer who kick me out of my imposed world of pity. I may not get invited to the cocktail parties at work, or maybe I won't ever fit back into that size four dress. But aside from all the BS, I have it pretty good. In fact, I have it pretty awesomely.

Observations on Mass

I went to Mass today. But I almost didn't. I almost hit snooze. I was dreaming about work. and when that happens, it's not a happy and restful sleep anyway. But I didn't. Hit snooze that is. I figured I had a grueling day ahead of me.

A wake in St. James, LI for my great uncle. I think. The familial lines are so fuzzy and twisted, I don't know if there is a clear title. He's my grandmother's half-sister's husband. I've never had a conversation with the man. I remember that he smoked cigars and was always watching football on TV. He was always yelling at the TV. But he was a good man. And I dreaded the wake. I dreaded losing myself in the whirlwind of family. The kind of family where, after you've said, "hey, how are you?" you look for an excuse to leave. Not all the time. But mostly. So there was that. Next stop--the hospital. My cousin (32) is currently getting chemo treatments. How can a person who is so young and athletic and very sweet in his own shy way--get cancer? Who decides this stuff? I try to put myself in his place. And I can't do it. Would I feel my body had betrayed me? Would I accept the disease? Would I want to fight? Too many questions. I mean, what do you say to someone who just got dealt a death sentence? Hope the jell-o is good here. Do you have cable?

Turns out my cousin had left the hospital early. He went home. So I never had to confront that reality. But I expected to. Which is why I went to church this morning.

I go to church for two things: the ambiance and the homily. Today's homily--incidentally--was how the "holy land" is everywhere. In Woodside. It wasn't very inspiring. But a noble try.

So--the reason for this post. There were two things I noticed. First, we typically have a person who "signs" the songs. So, if you're deaf, you're able to follow along. Well, then I got to wondering...what if a deaf person wanted to sing right along with everyone else? I actually saw a man in the crowd "sign" right alongside the person who was doing the interpretation. Well, then I thought, what if there was a whole choir of deaf people signing songs? Arms waving in the air, like Rockettes or synchronized swimmers--their arms dancing. That would be awesome.

The only part of Mass that I hate is the "sign of peace" part where you get to shake your neighbor's hand and say "peace." I always seem to bumble through it. There's like a second of embarrassment where you put your hand out for someone to recognize. But they don't. Then you want to withdraw...but you don't want to admit defeat. So you get more aggressive in sticking your hand out. I'm also always on the lookout for people who sneeze or pick their noses with the "peace" hand. When it comes time to give others a sign of peace, I try to avoid those folks. You can't really blame me. And there IS one per every Mass.

Well, at this particular Mass, we weren't instructed to give the sign of peace. Instead, we were told to "smile and wave peace" to your neighbor. Whew!! smile, nod. smile, nod. But wait! Smiling was not the same as grabbing his hand. It was less personal. There was a connection lost. Damn. I guess there was a point to sharing a touch. I don't want to admit it. But, if this is a permanent change, I think I'm going to feel sad every time Peace is exchanged.

I think the whole "smile and wave" thing is because of swine flu. But who knows? I haven't been to Mass in over six months. I just didn't expect all the changes.