A couple months ago I lectured a graduate social work class for a friend of mine here at the office. I love doing graduate classes because the classes are generally more intimate, students are more mature, and they usually offer a stipend. This class is a class on disability and I show up and till my story and leave. I can go on for ever if I need to after all I get to talk on my favorite subject…myself and then there is always the Q&A, where you get to ask the gimp everything you have always wanted to but good manners and good conscience prevented you. The question asked that evening was “what did you parents do which h helped you the most come to grips with your disability?” Yesterday at lunch as were all yammering over our lunches, my office mate ( who I did he lecture for) indicated that the class really liked my lecture specifically the parent question and so the same question was asked again and I had to once again answer that I think the best thing my folks did was treat me no different then any of the other kids in the family—this was how I say it. Actually the more I have thought about this I really don’t know anymore. The best think the parents did was not to restrict me. In the years following my accident in 1966 to aboutn1972 when I got my first car with hand controls I did a lot of hitch hiking. We lived on a small farm about two and half miles South of Boise and I would take rolling toward Boise and either sit there on the side of the road with my hand out (my thumb did not work) or if I rolled long enough someone would drive by stop and ask if I wanted a lift and I would say “yes” and away I’d go.
Many times I would not get back from town till after 12:00 A.M., I remember only once of rolling all the way home. My mom had the habit of sitting up and falling asleep in front of the TV and often I would come home to her sleep and then she would get up and go to bed.—still there were other times when they went to bed. These two prayed a lot and so often I was consigned to God’s hands Who always seemed to bring me home safe and sound. I would never have that kind of faith. I am a parent now and if my kids were quad teenagers and out on the town on a Saturday night, even if that Town was Boise in 1968, I would be shadowing them in my big old van. And maybe that’s the difference my parents had the faith in my abilities where as I love my kids but my faith in them or their ability was not as strong. Humm I am not sure if that came out right.
1 comment:
Thought provoking blog Mark. Your parents allowing you that much freedom is surprising and familar. Surprising because of your unique situation. Familar because my parents allowed all of us Cantrell kids a great deal of freedom. I don't think many parents today would allow their young boys to roam around like we did. I have talked to mothers who say they won't allow their children anywhere near the Boise River! Thank God our parents weren't so protective.
You attribute your parents behavior to their deep faith. That is probably part of it, but I have always attributed my parents similar behavior to some difficult to define things.
Things like growing up in a different America - a different generation. More innocent and less suspicious of mankind maybe. Somehow they expected a certain amount of risk taking to go on in their children's lives. Probably because they had grown up with risk as something you dealt with regularly. Today parents strive to eliminate risk from their children's lives. I think our parents faced risk as a matter of fact.
I have thought about all of this before and never really had a completely satisfactory answer. Anyway, I intend to get an email off to you before the holidays, until then Merry Christmas!
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