I’m realizing now that there’s a whole generation of people with disabilities…younger than I, that integrate more easily than I, that have less exclusion and derision in their pasts. That, of course is a really good thing.
You younger folk never lived without the ADA or the Family Medical Leave Act.
A higher percentage of educational and business buildings were accessible to you. Thank goodness.
If this was a decent economy, more of you would be working…and that’s the coolest of all. I smile for hours straight whenever I hear of a PWD friend with a paying job.
I guess I just never thought I’d be part of any generation that would be less able to navigate the wider world, than the younger ones around me…I’m sad, but I guess it makes sense…I ‘m working hard not to come off the whiner…(it’s working, ) There are also folks I interact with that are further in the other, older “sickness” paradigm still think, because they’re disabled, they deserve not just assistance, which is right, but being catered to, which can get plain annoying.
In the broadest sense, it’s just about getting old.
I’ve just had another longtime acquaintance diss my political and religious choices.
Sorry for the rehash, but I’ve just got to lay it out one last time so people get it.
We now live in a society where corporations are people, according to the Citizens United decision.
If they are people, they aren’t the kind I’d invite to dinner.
Republican, Tea Party, Independent, Liberal, Progressive friends/family listen the heck up because I’m tired, tired tired of laying this out in gory personal detail for you.
I cannot trust any big corporation ever again. If someone else wants to, or believes they must because it’s in the Constitution that they have to love big corporations or they are a traitor to the Great God Capitalism…then go ahead.
I cannot trust any big corporation ever again because in the 24 months from summer 1982 through summer 1984 corporate decisions were made that allegedly caused the death of my HIV positive hemophilliac husband. He was a difficult man.
[for the record I’ve recently found out through medical research and checking his record that it’s extremely likely that the degree of his legendary temper was caused, in part, by HIV related brain lesions. Changes the picture yet again. I just wish I would have known more about the lesion thing early on. ]
I loved him. He loved me. He told me I was beautiful every day. And meant it. The disability, the weight, were unimportant to him. He married me when he could have married an able girl.
He was the *only* man to stand up to my father in my name, to tell him to go to hell.
We had that chemistry thing. That was why we made the WTF decision to marry in the first place even knowing the ‘risk group’ he was in. (doesn’t ‘ risk group’ sound damn antiquated now?) We finished each other’s sentences. We played a lot.
And allegedly because of a decision meant to help the ‘bottom line’ by a number of big pharmaceutical companies to not retool and make the production of a life sustaning medicine safer as early as they could have…he’s not here anymore. It killed him by inches and he was fcukin’ brave about it…especially at the end. No human being should have to go through that and so many still do.
I. cannot. trust.any.big.corporation.
Another reason not to trust them that affected me quite personally.
Rick Scott, the current governor of Florida, was making big money in the eighties/nineties running a company that was busy defrauding Medicare.
My boss at the time thought that that company Columbia HCA, ought to be allowed to merge with his company in a Kaiser Permanente type mix. He wanted to change to a for profit company.
Well, long story short, that boss got fired for pursuing that, and my company was uncertain, unsettled and in transition for awhile.
This was one of the factors in my (looking back) unwise decision to relocate westward. It spooked me. I got afraid the company would vanish.
So, there is just no way I can support a party that supports big corporations.
Can’t do it. Will. Not. Do. it.
I can abstain from discussing politics offline. I’ve done that and will continue to. I love my family, they love me, and we do have bunches more to discuss than politics, and we don’t want to become estranged. So we make an effort.
Why did I go there at all?
Well, a purely pragmatic need for a support system became clear. In 2008/2009 I discovered a great nearby church that happened to be Catholic.
My decision was, “I’ll go, get quiet, meet some people, listen to the music…get a bit of help when I need it.” It’s five minutes away from my house. (I was still in Denver at the time.)
And then, God showed up. It was annoying really. I hadn’t had the best relationship with God. God got ditched in ’93 and I had no plans to actually reconnect.
“What in the heck are you doing here? You’re supposed to know everything, so you know I’m just here for regular reasons…not really looking for you. So leave me be!”
Too late. It was and is a profound experience. Uniquely personal. And that’s it.
Has this religion, have all religions made huge mistakes? Heck yes. Are there specific parts of the theology that really make me nuts? Heck yes. Am I going to use my brain to work out my day to day practice in a way that doesn’t make me nuts? Absolutely. I’m no mindless sheep.
Do I have to answer to friends/family/nosy-ass strangers for the mistakes or the parts of the theology that make me nuts?
And again, I think it’s the rudest thing in the world to go door to door for Deity. Won’t be doing that.
Have I turned into the Church Lady?
So to summarize.
Not supporting a particular political party because they support big corporations that *will do harm* financially or physically if let off their leashes does not mean I’m going to hell.
Being Roman Catholic does not mean I’m going to hell. Or Heaven either. It gives me no superiority or inferiority. It’s just one of my choices.
Good grief. Democracy and religious freedom. Ever heard of them?
PS. And by the way. Just by the fcuk way. It’s “Democratic Party.” not “Democrat,” party. Give us our full list of syllables, even if we are “animals,” threatening to “destroy the country.”
So I’m selling these things on EBay — comic book reprint sets the late husband had clearly forgotten. or they would have been with the rest of the inventory sold on consignment shortly after his death in ’93. He had stashed them in a chest of drawers I had lent to my mother in law (only recently returned to me) , got my first feedback. “beautiful set in unread condition.” Makes me smile. Feels like again, he’s taking care of me a little bit. Whatever his flaws…like many comic book guys he was insanely careful of his books’/graphic novels/reprint’s condition. It’s paying off in ways we never could have thought of. Not a lot of money, no great amount. Just enough $$ to add to existing bucks to get through this month and perhaps next month too.
by Jean McWherter Flynn on Wednesday, August 17, 2011 at 11:24am
I’m venting on behalf of my former roommate. She’s beginning to get her own circle of friends there…but I hear from her now and again. she’ll still call and vent to me every once and awhile. Don’t get me wrong. It was a great thing that her family took her in. it was that or homelessness. But good grief. Sshe’s gotten no praise for migrating to a city she did not know, and scoring a job within 24 hrs, only blame because it wasn’t a “real” job. No positive feedback for paying her rent on time to her brother every week and paying for her own food…and pet needs all on 8.25 an hour … just sniping such as “You probably think you can stay here until you are 72!” Relatives are puzzled as to why, without any medical insurance…she has very few prescriptions… (she had to choose between asthma meds and diabetic meds…asthma won. She’s type 2. She has an appointment for care at a sliding scale clinic…can’t get in till October. ) she has kept the cleanliness of her part of their home up to their exacting standards her relations came out to their driveway last night and demanded a specific move out date the moment she pulled in. Without any actual plan, the relatives forced a date of the end of October. The relatives are angry at her, because they insist that she said a current position would definitely lead to a supervisory position, when she said no such thing, she said it *might.*
They enable another relative to live somewhere else, rent free, who continually walks out on jobs…and can’t settle….and also has a car payment. But her…the one who cleans, pays rent and food and looks after not only her pet but theirs?
Oh. My. Gawd.
She has a solid lead of rooming in the home of a co worker, already been to the house, and been told how much rent was expected…and was looking at a November or December move out anyway…and they *knew all this* and started yelling anyway.
And then, after all this, they said, “But will you still be around to help with our dog if needed?”
Because you’re inconvenienced and put out to have to take someone in, does that mean you have to make it miserable for them? Is that a requirement?
They certainly could have established a firm move out date at any time, it’s their home and their right. They also could have been human about it.
…and, if she decides watching a particular cable news channel
is not her cup of tea, and politely declines and decides to go hang in her room, they actually go and call her back to the living room.
No, really. I have more to vent about than this, but I’ll start with it, since it’s the least personal and the most absurd.
We’re all familiar with the political robocall, I’m sure.
Well, yesterday I heard the beginning of a non-political robocall and slammed the phone down.
I have reached the end of my rope about technology. Henceforth I will become the Old Lady Who Doesn’t Deal with New Tech. Because the cheery voice of a pleasant young lady, a prerecorded fabricated call said:
“This is a call for people who’ve been avoiding the daunting task of preparing for funeral expenses!…” [me suddenly slamming phone down]
I will not be solicited via telemarketing robocall to make sure I pour a last batch of money down for something *I can’t use because I’ll be dead!*
If I’ve got 20k I’m doing nothing with that gets inherited, or is available when I’m diagnosed with a terminal illness, or turn sixty-five, I do plan to go to the nearest funeral place to where my husband is buried and take care of things.
But this? Oh hell no. What marketing firm in their right mind sold this as a good idea?
What? What? They can’t even bother to pay a live person minimum wage to be yelled at by absolutely every person they call?
Oh, wait. I forgot. This is about dead bodies.