mope approaching heroic
If we were of such a mind . . . "we"is meant as a polite nod . . ., Jimmy's soul could be evaluated with a scale that stretches from "mope" to "hero". Occasionally, I patronize the Depot restaurant on Susquehanna Depot's secondary main drag. By the bye, their corn chowder approaches "to die for". Sometimes, while I tend to a peckish pang or two, I espy a small man shambling about, clearing just relinquished tables.
Out of the way, unoccupied, Jimmy's red mechanized wheelchair is seen. . . . ah, just as an aside among you and me and the gorpe, who's peeking over your shoulder, I reckon Jimmy gets a little tense, whenever curious small children pole around his mode of personal conveyance.
In any case, it takes little thought to infer that he relies for support and mobility on the cart, into which he piles soiled dishware. In or out of his wheelchair, little of his appearance is, well, remarkable. Whenever he stands unaided on his feet, however briefly, his height comes under five foot. He's so scrawny as to seem vulnerable to a sudden gush of wind.
As if God decided Jimmy could stand living with another handicap, he wears spectacles. As if our postprandial restoration technician decided he should shorten his stay on earth, he smokes. For no particular reason, it's easy to doubt Jimmy can afford more than a pack a day.
And for no particular reason, I find myself wondering how Jimmy would describe himself. I surmise he would sneer at "physically challenged". Here in deep Susquehanna County, menfolk refer to implements for terrestrial excavation as shovels . . . "spades" does duty for African Americans. Likely enough, Jimmy would accept "crippled", could tolerate "handicapped". No disrespect meant, but I surmise "incapacitated" would send him to Funk & Wagnalls.
At the beginning of this little essay, I mentioned a scale that stretches from "mope" to "hero". As likely as Jimmy is to sneer at "physically challenged", he would be even more likely to sneer at "heroic". Truth be told, I would consider his being so disposed as a point to the good, with regard to "authenticity".
It's no wonder that he'd comport himself that way. Deep down inside, he believes he's just one more guy, doing his best to make his way in the world. And that's not all that's in his favor.
Somewhere, within his being, there exists a grain of good sense. From what I can tell, our man came to a few sensible decisions. One being, he would eschew fighting his incapacity. Here's what I mean.
If he felt like it, he could utilize his metal crutches in getting from point A to point B. Sometimes, doing so would take only several minutes . . . other times, an hour and more. Whenever it would take an hour or more by his crutches, Jimmy gets into his mechanized wheelchair, and gets where he has to be in under fifteen minutes.
Instead of fighting his incapacity, Jimmy lives with same. And so far as I'm concerned, his compliance with that grain of good sense merits a salute.
toodles
..../
.he who is known as sefton
Out of the way, unoccupied, Jimmy's red mechanized wheelchair is seen. . . . ah, just as an aside among you and me and the gorpe, who's peeking over your shoulder, I reckon Jimmy gets a little tense, whenever curious small children pole around his mode of personal conveyance.
In any case, it takes little thought to infer that he relies for support and mobility on the cart, into which he piles soiled dishware. In or out of his wheelchair, little of his appearance is, well, remarkable. Whenever he stands unaided on his feet, however briefly, his height comes under five foot. He's so scrawny as to seem vulnerable to a sudden gush of wind.
As if God decided Jimmy could stand living with another handicap, he wears spectacles. As if our postprandial restoration technician decided he should shorten his stay on earth, he smokes. For no particular reason, it's easy to doubt Jimmy can afford more than a pack a day.
And for no particular reason, I find myself wondering how Jimmy would describe himself. I surmise he would sneer at "physically challenged". Here in deep Susquehanna County, menfolk refer to implements for terrestrial excavation as shovels . . . "spades" does duty for African Americans. Likely enough, Jimmy would accept "crippled", could tolerate "handicapped". No disrespect meant, but I surmise "incapacitated" would send him to Funk & Wagnalls.
At the beginning of this little essay, I mentioned a scale that stretches from "mope" to "hero". As likely as Jimmy is to sneer at "physically challenged", he would be even more likely to sneer at "heroic". Truth be told, I would consider his being so disposed as a point to the good, with regard to "authenticity".
It's no wonder that he'd comport himself that way. Deep down inside, he believes he's just one more guy, doing his best to make his way in the world. And that's not all that's in his favor.
Somewhere, within his being, there exists a grain of good sense. From what I can tell, our man came to a few sensible decisions. One being, he would eschew fighting his incapacity. Here's what I mean.
If he felt like it, he could utilize his metal crutches in getting from point A to point B. Sometimes, doing so would take only several minutes . . . other times, an hour and more. Whenever it would take an hour or more by his crutches, Jimmy gets into his mechanized wheelchair, and gets where he has to be in under fifteen minutes.
Instead of fighting his incapacity, Jimmy lives with same. And so far as I'm concerned, his compliance with that grain of good sense merits a salute.
toodles
..../
.he who is known as sefton
posted by he who is known as sefton | 3:46 PM
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