Rolling Around In My Head doing damns the darkness/ A Blog By Dave Hingsburger

The Wrong Ramp

We’d had dinner in a packed restaurant, with waitstaff that had no idea how to sit a disabled customer, and were on our way out. I came through the / doors and saw that a huge truck had used the cut curb to pull back up into a parking space to unload and store equipment used in the water show that was happening just off the docks beside the restaurant.

Late Lunch

We got to the restaurant a little later than we had planned. But what’s a vacation for but to make plans and then freely set about to mess them all up? We were greeted by a woman with a disability, she used a cane for stability and for assisting with movement. She was warm and friendly and set about setting up a table for 5, all were set for 2

X-Ray Pants

This morning I had to have an x-ray, a great way to start a vacation, and, yes, everything is fine. We arrived to a long line up and a sinking feeling that we’d be there for hours. Turned out that we got through the process faster than we did at the drive-thru at Harvey’s We registered, sat down and were almost immediately called in. The technician asked if Joe could

Vacation

Today we begin a week’s vacation. Our hallway is lined with suitcases. Packing is nearly done. This is all stuff that Joe does and I am the exceedingly grateful recipient of his expertise. This means that I get to sit and do nothing while he makes satisfied noises every time he remembers something he was determined that he’d forget. It’s just what we do. It is my job to make

Love Need Not End

A very, very, very long time ago I wrote about seeing an elderly woman being supported by her son with Down Syndrome. She was a wheelchair user, something that at the time seemed new to her, and he carefully guided the chair around people and other barriers. I wondered, then, if she ever, when he was born, imagined a time where he would not only be her world but allow

Struggling

I sat down the other day to write a post, but I just couldn’t bring myself to it. This is pointing to a problem I’m having with writing this blog. Here’s what happened that I was going to write about. We were off the plane, home again in Toronto, and on to get the rental car that would take us home. To get to the rental car I need to

JOB?

I would never feel comfortable doing a job interview in a coffee shop, but these are modern times. Two fellows met and clearly they had known each other in school. The applicant laid it on a little thick with the ‘bonhomie’ that came with past acquaintance. The interviewer kept good boundaries but was distinctly cool in his response to the warmth flowing his way. They sit. Neither has a coffee.

Just One

We had arrived early at the airport for a flight that would be delayed. Rah! We wanted to grab breakfast and decided to go to a restaurant rather than a fast food place and we found a spot and then found a table therein. There weren’t many there, the prices where prohibitive. But there were two men a couple tables over from us and across a small aisle way, talking

My Place

For viewers discretion is advised course language  in this story . “He just doesn’t … doesn’t …” pauses to search for words, “know his place.” That’s not where I thought this was going to go. It was the standard situation familiar to many of us with disabilities, someone had offered unneeded help which I had politely declined. Cue offense. Even though I had cheerfully said, “No, I’m good, I’ve got

Popcorn

So. This happened. We went to see “Spiderman” and, unusually for us, we were a little bit late. We can’t get our tickets from the automated stations because we use the Access2 card and need a real person help us do that. I spotted a young man at the popcorn station, a place where you can buy tickets as well, and we headed towards him. He knows the system really

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