Ron.Rothenberg@f460.n101.z1.fidonet.org (Ron Rothenberg) (01/12/90)
Index Number: 6197
from DEAR DIMWIT IN DALLAS from Accent on Living Magazine, Winter, 1989.
By John Braun
Dear Advice Lady:
There is this cute guy at work, and I think he is interested in me.
But last week he got drunk and stole $50.00 from my purse after he
knowcked me down with his car. Do you think I should try to get him to
marry me?
Dimwit in Dallas
Dear Dimwit:
Yes, you should. Anyone who asks such a dumb question deserves what she gets.
This kind of letter and response has kept Ann Landers and others in
business for years. And while such columns provide a real public
service for many readers, I have discovered that the subjects covered
are usually not relevant as they could be for People With Disabilities
(PWD pronounced "PWD")
The reason, perhaps is that PWSs don't write in with the kinds of
questions that are on their minds. Assuming that to be true, let me
give some examples of the kinds of questions that could be submitted.
I'll throw in some possible answers as a bonus.
Dear John:
When I am out in public in my wheelchair, people sometimes stare at me
which makes me feel uncomfortable. What should I do?
Stared at in Seattle
Dear Stared At:
You are being too sensitive. People are simply peering at you intently
because disabled people are like penguins in that they all look alike.
Thus, people are trying to see if they know you, and then simply lose
track of time. It is appropriate to remind them of the elpapsed time.
After a minute has passed, hold up one finger, preferably your longest
one, in case they are nearsighted.
Dear John:
I have a disability, and when I am out with my able-bodied friend,
Thelma, people often don't talk to me directly, but ask her questions
about me when they should be talking to me instead, which makes me feel
like a nonperson, and there is nothing worse than being considered a
nonperson, don't you agree?
Ignored in Ignacio
Dear Thelma:
Please tell Ignored in Ignatio he, she or it shouldn't use such long
rambling sentences and then maybe someone will talk to him, her or it.
Dear John:
I am a Person with A Disability (PWAD, pronounced "PWAD") and when I go
to the beach with my girlfriend, 97 pound weaklings kick sand in my
face. What should I do.
Gritty in Grambling
Dear Gritty:
You have two choices. You can either buy my book "The Art of Using the
Crossbow" and follow its instructions, or if you are of a more passive
nature you should buy my book "How to Smile While Picking Sand Out of
your Teeth."
Dear John:
I am confused as to how I should have people refer to me. Should I
insist on being called a disabled person, a handicapped person, or
phnysically impaired, or mobility impaired or a PWAD, or able-disabled
or handicapable or cripple, or gimp or what?
Confused in Centralia
Dear Confused:
None of the above. Call yourself "an endangered species" and cash in
on the huge and growing environmental movement. Using such a
self-designation has many advantages. Just one example, Imagine the
news story: "The bank robbery was commited by an endangered species on
crutches. ;. ." I mean, even if you're caught, will you get sympathy or
what?
Dear John:
I am blind and when I went to a job interview my guide dog relieved
himself on the personnel officer's leg. I didn't get the job. Do I
have grounds for filing a job discrimination suit?
POed in Peoria
Dear POed:
No, you don't. The only way you could sue is if you had relieved
yourself on the interviewer's leg and then didn't get the job.
Subscriptions to ACCENT ON LIVING are $8.00/yr, $12.00/2 years from Box
700. Bloomington, IL 61072
If you can't afford a subscription, write them a letter and they will
waive the subscription fee.
-rsr-
... There is no fate that can not be surmounted by scorn - A. Camus
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Uucp: ..!{decvax,oliveb}!bunker!hcap!hnews!101!460!Ron.Rothenberg
Internet: Ron.Rothenberg@f460.n101.z1.fidonet.orgAnn.Parsons@f204.n260.z1.fidonet.org (Ann Parsons) (01/17/90)
Index Number: 6264
Hi Ron,
In your message to all where you give advise, cum Ann Landers, you have a
little squib about what to do when people look at you and figure you look
just like all the rest of the blind folks.
It happened to me. I got on a bus in Rochester, New York. The bus driver
looked at me and said, "Where's your seeing eye dog? Aren't you the lady
that lives in Perry, New York?"
I replied, "No, I live in Rochester. I know, I know, all hottentots look
alike."
The bus driver was mortified. Sorry to say, I ain't sorry! <grin>
It got so bad during my three and a half year stay at Elmira college with
three blind women on campus that you got used to replying to a name that
wasn't yours. People would come up to me and say, "Hi, Lynne" or "Hi
Shannon."
I just gave up and answered anything reasonable. <grin>
Keep those endorphans flowin'. See you on-line.
Ann P.
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Internet: Ann.Parsons@f204.n260.z1.fidonet.orgCarla.Campbell@f89.n129.z1.fidonet.org (Carla Campbell) (01/17/90)
Index Number: 6301
AP> York. The bus driver looked at me and said, "Where's your
AP> seeing eye dog? Aren't you the lady that lives in Perry, New
AP> York?"
I'm sure I mentioned here that while I was at grad school with my now
friend Cheryl, who is also blind, we were frequently mistaken for one
another: despite the fact that I use a dog, she a cane, that I am
caucasian, while she is black, that I was there a year before she
arrived and that we are totally different, personality-wise. (I'm loud
and obnoxious, while Cheryl is quiet and obnoxious.) We concluded, at
one point, that it was because we are both five feet seven inches tall
and share the same initials. She , too, was once asked where her dog
was by a man who saw us both on a daily basis. She repied that she had
no dog, and the man insisted that she did! She finally gave up and siad
something like "oh, it died.", I think.
We got one another's mail and even exam results. The final straw came
when we went down to vote in the past presidential election. We'd both
registered separately, and went to vote separately. When I arrived, the
woman assisting me scanned down the list of registered voters in the
presinct, looking for "Carla Campbell" and said"You're Cheryl Cameron?".
I nearly died laughing, and had a difficult time explaining to her why
it was so funny that she'd accidentally read the name below my own.
(turned out our names were next to one another on the list since they
are close alphabetically and our addresses were similar, as we both went
to Fletcher.)
It can be very frustrating. The year before Cheryl arrived, I was often
confused with a fellow student who is deaf. Go figger.
... Happiness is a warm modem.
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Internet: Carla.Campbell@f89.n129.z1.fidonet.org