(Cover your eyes, Crotchety Old Man) Christine and I went to see Bruce, et. al. this evening. They are the best. He is such an entertainer and puts on a great show. So much energy! Everyone in the band looked awesome. And the play list was really eclectic, a great mix of old and new. He closed with Rosalita as an encore. Such fun. The soundtrack of my college summers. A local boy. A good guy. He’s not perfect, but heck, who is? He does a lot of good around here that people never know about.
I watched the concert from the handicapped area, sitting in a wheelchair. It was my wheelchair debut. I have given up so many of the things I love because I can’t walk very far anymore, I am deciding it is time to buckle (ha ha, no pun intended) and take advantage of wheels.
It definitely felt strange, awkward and uncomfortable. I was very self-conscious. And separated from everyone else, because my eyes are now at crotch level. Not the ideal anatomical area to start a conversation with. Or smile at. (My dear friend Marc hilariously points this out in his films at www.wheelchairkamikaze.com .) But parking was a snap. I would hold up my handicapped placard and we were instantly directed to close, plentiful parking. At one point I breathed to Christine “It’s like…magic!” And we both cracked up.
Everyone on the staff was very nice and helpful. It was fun when Christine raced me through the empty hall after the concert started and we went to the ladies, taking a turn practically on two wheels, the two of us giggling like mad. And how lucky am I to have a friend who is just so matter-of-fact about the whole thing?
But I have a lot to think about as I adjust to a new stage in my life.
A wheelchair. Who’d a thunk it?