The Fall

I fell this morning leaving the building. I lost my balance, tried to catch the wet railing but it wasn't enough and over I went. I hit my head on a concrete retaining wall, scraped my scalp, 3 fingers and cut the end of my middle finger on my right hand. As the day wore on I realized I bruised my right thigh where I landed.

My weakened arms and legs makes it very hard for me to get up when I fall, especially after the shock of the fall and especially when I hit my head. A timid little middle-aged Filipino woman had the misfortune of seeing me fall. She obviously didn't want to stop and more obviously didn't have a clue what to do. I knew instantly she wouldn't be any assistance to me. She meekly asked if I had fallen, then if I was hurt but she was afraid to really look at me. After she saw I was bleeding she became even more rattled. She fretted about setting down her bag on the wet ground--it was raining. I am sure she wouldn't have had a clue what to do even if she had. She watched me helplessly as I struggled to hoist myself up on the first wet step. As soon as made that minor achievement she ran away as fast as she could, not to get help but just to put as much distance between us as she could.

I was able to push myself up onto the second step and from there pull myself up to a standing position. At the time I didn't even notice my bleeding knuckles or scalp. My first impulse was to just continue on my way to work but my finger was bleeding too much. I went back inside, waited a small age for the elevator and eventually reached my bathroom. There I washed myself up a bit and bandaged my bleeding finger before setting off to work again.

I didn't want to dwell on the fall. For 5 years I have carefully kept a record of each fall and the average number of days between my last 10 falls. In the first half of 2004 I was averaging only 2.5 weeks between falls. I was able to improve my focus and learn to walk more cautiously so for the next 4 years my record improved until 2 months ago when I was approaching 15 weeks between falls. But I have fallen 3 times in less than 8 weeks, and so has my average which is now at 93 days. It is discouraging to losing ground but I suppose that is inevitable given that my condition is deteriorating.

My doctor has been advising me to buy a scooter for the past 3 years, but at present that isn't feasible. My condo strata council refuses to consider installing a wheelchair ramp. There used to be wheelchair access to the front door through a side courtyard, required by an agreement with the City of Vancouver when the office building was renovated into condos in 1994, but the strata has locked the courtyard recently in violation of that agreement. The City has sent 2 warning letters to strata about the violation, which were totally ignored, and has now decided there is nothing more they can do. There has just been a recent City election so once the new, more socialist Council is settled in I will try again through one of the Councilors to get action. If that fails I might need to take legal action against the City and the strata.

Not exactly fun stuff. Not cheap either.

New student

I have a new student as of today. I am teaching her the techniques of stained glass, the copper foil method I always use. She's really raring to go. Apparently she has had a bit of experience and has made some small jewelery pieces, which was apparent as she was instantly good at cutting. She has chosen to make a 16-piece sun catcher, an iris, and chosen to pay by the hour. Today she chose her pattern and glass and cut the first piece of her iris. She is quite excited about it.

My price for lessons is lower than normal, but then I don't have the overhead of paying for the rental of a workshop space. I use the "den" in my condo, an area of about 5 sq m, or 50 sq ft. It is quite sufficient except for projects more than 6 ft long. I don't like working with anything larger anyway. Students are great as they help me use up some of my scrap glass. The piece shown here is 40" long by 15" wide. It has 270 some pieces, an original design of mine. It is a scene in Guanajuarto, Mexico.

Obama-rama

Like so many other millions around the world, I couldn't wait to get home and start following the US election results last night. I was lucky living on the west coast for the results were beginning to trickle in by the time I got home at 5pm. I stayed glued to my computer (not having or wanting TV reception) long after I knew mathematically that Obama was elected. By 9:30 I was so emotionally exhausted that I couldn't stay awake.

Poor Obama. It's hard to imagine all the various meanings put on his election by those who are celebrating, but completely impossible that he can come near fulfilling all their expectations of him. American Democrats are celebrating a great relief after 8 yrs of Shrub & Co., a chance to undo some of the wrongs, a landmark election of a Black man and a likely end to the war in Iraq. They want their country back on track. But ironically to the rest of the world he means much more. The celebrations overseas have no limits, no 48% McCain supporters to placate. Obama means an end to American aggression and intimidation against enemies and allies alike, a chance for the world a reprieve from the "Evil Empire". In many ways, Obama is everyone's President-Elect and the face of the planet from China to Africa to the Middle East is smiling.

But this morning my joy was mixed equally with anger at the success of Proposition 8 in California, successful same-sex marriage bans in Arizona and Florida and further loss of rights for gays in Arkansas. It brought back memories of all the anger and hurt from the 80s when I struggled with other activists to get out from under police oppression and establish gay rights protections across Canada. My signature is on the first copy of the Bill that brought gay rights into the Ontario Human Rights Code in 1986--the first gay rights bill in North America fought in the headlines (Quebec and Wisconsin had already passed protections without media coverage in 1977 and 1984 respectively). When it passed, the politicians who supported it signed the front page of the first copy and the lobbyists signed the last page. That copy sits in the Lesbian & Gay Archives in Toronto.

When same-sex marriage was established here in 2003, the first place to approve it outside of Belgium or the Netherlands, all legal forms of discrimination against gays were eliminated and the need for a gay liberation struggle ended. It was a wonderful but strange new landscape. In my heart I was happy to retire into this new reality.

But the full intensity of my former anger returned this morning. It is more clear than ever in my mind how fundamentally wrong it is to allow the majority to vote on whether a minority should be allowed to share the same rights they enjoy. It is like having an open and binding vote for Germans and Danes as to whether Germany should annex Denmark. Just because Germans out-number Danes 10 to 1 doesn't make that a legitimate democratic vote. That is not democracy; it is tyranny by majority. Each time an initiative is brought forward to a general vote it reaffirms the right for straights to deny us our rights if they want to. Each time we give our power away whether we win or not.

I am not sure what we should replace it with, at least not yet--certainly not violence or any other confrontational method that would further justify their tyranny. But last night's vote underscored the fact that in spite of expectations for Obama, there has been no enlightenment happening south of the border. No awakening yet, no revolution of change. The votes shifted slightly from 50-50 to 51-49 in the climate of a bad economy brought on by greed and mismanagement from 8 years of Bush-dumb, in spite of his heinous crimes committed against American democracy, just enough to cause a few close-vote states to land on the Democrat side of the fence and give the illusion of a landslide. In spite of only a 28% approval rating for Bush, the actual vote shift was less than 2%!

There must be constitutional protections for all minorities in a healthy democracy so that right-wing patriots and frothing fundamentalists cannot strip bare the dignity of their human rights. Mahatma Gandhi once said that while all past civilizations were once measured by their wealth and the size of their empires, all future civilizations will be measured by how they treated their minorities.

Kal-loween

The weather forecast shows rain every day from here to eternity, but it's not that bad. Rain is a no-brainer during our wettest month of the year, but the rain we have been having is quite light and intermittent. Halloween evening was surprisingly dry, as was today even though it rained before I woke up. That evening, I walked with my friend Kal to his place and he made me an incredible curried lentil soup. Gawd, it was good. They say a way to a man's heart is through his stomach--though I once thought that was just for men into fisting. His place is really hot too, but he has unfortunately had to put it on the market so I might not see it much before he moves.

After dinner and two bottles of wine we walked 20 min back to my place which is beside the gay village. After a short pit stop we went to The Fountainhead Pub, which is a mixed gay/straight pub almost next door. We figured we'd just stay in one place and let those in costumes come to us, as the ones who have the most elaborate costumes are usually into parading (not unlike a Radical Faerie gathering).

Kal had been invited to a party on the far side of the West End and decided he'd prefer not go all that way just to come back again. Sure enough the host David and three friends showed up in costume (a clown, Elvira, a cowboy and a 70s disco stud). They chided Kal for not showing up but then when they met me they said they understood that he had distracting company--a flattering compliment that made me blush as I don't see myself as attractive.

Kal was hanging onto me, hugging and kissing me and proclaiming in front of his friends how much he loved me, though our relationship has been strictly platonic until now. I met him many years ago when we worked together and at that time he was strictly straight and busy raising children. A year ago when his marriage dissolved he began the process of coming out and we have gradually begun renewing and strengthening a friendship. That evening was the first time I visited his place and the first time we sharing so much in depth about our past loves, etc. So even I was questioning where our friendship was headed by the end of the evening, since earlier in the evening he had suggested that next weekend I should visit again and sleep over so we could drink as much as we wanted without worrying if I could make it home again on my wobbly legs.

When he went to the washroom his friend David questioned me if there was something between us or if I wanted there to be. He was trying to sell me on Kal, though that was not a hard sell as Kal has so many talents and qualities that compliment his good looks. David was obviously trying to incorporate me into Kal's circle of good friends not just for that evening but in the future too. When Kal returned they all begged me to come with them to the Oasis Pub up the street. I was flattered again but I left them and returned home alone. I was shy about having his friends see me struggling pathetically up the stairs to the pub. I hate my disability to be the first and most memorable aspect about me when I meet other people, but I was also tired from lack of sleep the night before and from the wine I shared at Kal's place. He holds his alcohol much better than I do.

I have become horridly shy and protective over the past few years after convincing myself that a man over 50 with an obvious disability is totally unmarketable in the gay community. I have focused on building and maintaining friendships in lieu of anything more intimate. Kal really does like me and doesn't want to close the door to something more intimate between us. Neither do I, though it will take some time to relax enough let down my walls. I still feel horribly inadequate, which I need to let go of before a relationship would work. Fortunately I think Kal needs as much time as I do as he is also not really ready to commit. It's also a difficult choice to make too I suspect as at least for the present my condition continues to deteriorate. Without a treatment or cure I probably will not be able to walk much beyond the next two years.

But with a treatment around the corner, probably, and many of my debts paid off recently I am definitely feeling a positive change in the air. Maybe love will be part of that positive change. :o)

A Community Garden

Weekend mornings are my favourite times, before I have actually spoken with anyone. It is grey this morning, except for the vibrancy of autumn leaves, those still on the trees and the trampled remnants of those that have fallen. The Pacific air is surprisingly warm for the first day of November. Leftover bits of last night's celebrations decorate the sidewalks: a yellow feather here, some sequins there. People are up and moving silently, calmly about their business. My legs feel strong this morning, or at least stronger than usual. They carry me up the hill to my regular diner for breakfast and then further to a local market to pick up supplies. As I am coming home the first sprinkles of rain begin to fall.

In spite of them, I stop to marvel at a corner lot near my home where a gas station stood last spring. It was removed along with the PCB-tainted soil last summer to make way for another high-rise mixed-use condo, as if we didn't have a few hundred too many already. But the development has taken an unexpected and surprising turn. The land has been cleaned and leveled and a community garden has taken its place. A simple country-styled fence surrounds the lot, which has been divided into slightly raised plots of different shapes filled with sheep manure that still greets my nostrils. There are straight and diagonal cedar-chip paths between them and a lattice arch entrance welcoming visitors. Simple lattice screens have been erected near the centre and comfortable-looking wooden benches scattered around the edges facing inward. No hint of security here.

Of course the plots are still empty as it has just been completed, but how fascinating that such an enterprise should spring up on the corner of two major streets in the core of the city. I wonder how long the garden will remain before the high-rise replaces it. Obviously they intend it to be here at least a year or two after all this effort. And how will it work without security? I imagine vegetables will not last long with all the homeless and dumpster divers in this city, and the low fences make no effort to exclude them.

Perhaps the boldness of the plan, the deliberate lack of security generally unknown these days, will be respected for the minor miracle that it is and it will succeed. I hope so. Considering the massive amount of construction and changes going on in this pre-Olympic city, this garden is the most interesting piece of development I have seen in years. I wish I could still garden.