On My Own

I spent the last hour going through my blog trying to find an entry, which I know that I wrote, in fact I found it but it was not exactly what I was looking for and now I'm trying to go back to find out exactly what the date posting was selected link it to tonight's post but I can't find it anywhere now. So, dear reader,, if you have slogged through these nearly 3000 blog postings you will get a little bit of redundancy.

My parents were amazing at least I thought so. I think that more now than ever. They were highly religious and had great amounts of faith either that or they were just totally irresponsible but I doubt that they were irresponsible. Having my accident in 1966 when I was 15 did little for my social life. However, after a few months of rehabilitation and social adjustment of going to a high school I was taught to hate I was trying to get on with my life. In those days if he has spinal cord injury you're just lucky to survive forget the fact there was no handbooks or guides on how to survive when she did survive. I think to some degree this is my biggest blessing was that no one told me how to be a crip. I don't think anyone told my parents either.

Living on a farm in southeast Boise was a significant challenge to a adolescent with a disability in the middle of his teenage years. We left about a quarter-mile off the main street going into Boise. The two streets/Roads going to that Main Street were not paved. Like all teenagers if you really had to get somewhere he pretty much had to rely on your parents if he did not have a bike or other forms of transit. My mom was pretty much stuck home during the day and she either cut or wouldn't drive whenever I want to go somewhere. Therefore I figured what the heck I'll get there myself and off I would go on a Saturday. I'd roll up the dirt roads up to the main road and then actually start rolling towards the city. The community was still fairly rural and everyone knew each other. As I roll towards the city sooner or later one of the neighbors are one of my friends would stop asking for need a ride and then we would figure out how to get me in the vehicle and off I go.in the upper left-hand corner of this blog you'll see a search box, if you type the word “Gene” into that box it will give you more than enough references about my friend Gene who lived a care facility in Boise that I often going to visit. Often this is where I would end up in traveling and Boise. Same is true for coming home but often it was late at night. During the winter and during the week my dad would stop at the care facility to see if I was there and then picked me up but on the weekends and during the summer I would end up rolling home and usually getting a ride. The point I'm making is that my parents let me do this. They would go to bed around 10 PM say at prayer for my safety and hit the sack. More than once I was out all night only to roll in the next morning and everyone acted like nothing happened. Even has able-bodied I can't imagine the parents letting me get away with something like that. Anyway if you can find the other reference to 201 Jefferson St., the home of my friend Cindy Larson, they had a hitching post out front of their home similar to what I have at the front of the blog. I spent the night across the street from our house one summer evening. All I had was cutoffs and sleepless Army fatigue shirt. It was a cold night finally at some point Cindy brought down blankets. It is one of the best nights of my life and nothing happened…!