Last night we went over to the Museum of Civilization to be part of the studio audience for two tapings of The Vinyl Cafe with Stuart McLean. Mostly we wanted to see our good friend, local blogger Hella Stella, who was the special musical guest.
From what we could tell, most of the audience was there to see Hella Stella. The local blogging community was out in full force. The people beside us were there for Hella Stella too, and they weren’t even bloggers. It was a friendly crowd too, which is what you’d expect of a bunch of Hella Stella fans. And she was wonderful, singing some old favourites from her last album, and a new favourite from her next album.
Stuart McLean wasn’t what I was expecting. His voice, of course, was exactly what I was expecting since I’ve heard it on CBC Radio a thousand times. But he is far more physical and animated than I imagined, with full participation from his hands and arms and knees and hips and head. He’s not just reading those Dave Morley stories, he’s wriggling around inside them. He’s like a literary Joe Cocker.
I’ve heard Hawksley Workman’s name a whole lot of times, but I’d never actually seen him play before last night. He was Stuart McLean’s other special musical guest. He was excellent. The acoustics in that theater lent themselves beautifully to vocal magic tricks, and Hawksley Workman does some really trippy stuff with his voice. I bought a CD.
Because of my ongoing back problem, which is getting worse by the week, I haven’t been able to walk for more than a minute lately without also crying and swearing. Mostly I just lie on the couch, eating painkillers and Gravol. Yesterday was a worse-than-average day, from a pain perspective, so I was a little worried about how I was going to manage to get to the show and back.
GC had the logistics all figured out. He dropped me off on a bench outside the Museum, and then parked the car in Handicapped Parking. (As of last week, I’m an officially handicapped person for car-parking purposes.) Then he met me at the bench, walked me inside, and left me on the first bench inside the museum. He returned a short time later with a wheelchair.
It all worked out pretty well. Except that I felt funny about using a wheelchair. I felt like a fraud or something. Same thing with the handicapped parking permit. Rationally, I know I am legitimately entitled to it and I need it and I’m not abusing it…but I’m having trouble reconciling my concept of myself with that handicapped symbol.
Wasn’t it a great show?! And you remembered Hawksley Workman’s first name … despite your pain. I think I would feel about the handicapped stuff the way you do, but, since it is you, not me, I can say truthfully that you should use whatever crutches are available to you … like handicapped parking spaces and motorized wheelchairs in shopping centres. To tell the truth I’d kind of like to try out one of those shopping centre vehicles … might make a trip to a super store bearable.
You’re looking at this the wrong way. Instead of feeling bad about the wheelchair make use of it. Get one and go somewhere downtown and pan handle in it. guaranteed to get you more money than you would without it.
Then you can get wine and chocolate and other neat things.
Hoping you don’t need it for too long but hey make use of it while you can.
When I was down and out Dave kept teasing me about getting me a “handi-sticker” for my car. Don’t feel bad or guilty, you are disabled, even if its only temporary. I hope you’re feeling better soon….
I’d love to see Stuart in person, I love listening to him. An Hawksley is a great band, hope you enjoy the CD
Zoomie,
If it’s good enough for Guy Caballero, it’s good enough for you.
Damnit. I totally forgot about the Vinyl Cafe show. I was planning to go too. I’m glad you had a good time!
My father got a parking permit a few years ago. He has degenerative disc disease and can’t walk very far either. I’m pretty sure he knows he’s entitled to it and it would really help him to use it, but at the same time, he’s still uncomfortable with the idea and what it implies. Mom says that he rarely uses it. He “forgets” he has a permit and leaves it in the glove box most of the time… sighs.
Feeling guilty? Huh. Try viewing it this way: I once knew some activist-type wheelchair people who called “normal” two-legged types, TABbies.
It means Temporarily Able Bodied. (Or that maybe you’re closer to Duncan than even either of you thought…)
Their view was that eventually, everybodyM/i> becomes officially disabled to some extent. For instance, as they age, they can’t lift their feet enough to climb a curb at an intersection, or board a bus. Which is why there are now ramps on both of ’em in most places.
So, ma’am, those parking spaces you’re using right now? For everybody, eventually. Most people just don’t realize it yet…
I needed to be wheeled around in a wheel chair for a short time and it gave me a new perspective on crowds and people and their manners. When it feels too weird, remember that it’s (hopefully) a temporary condition.
Don’t forget that GC should be getting free tickets to things as your assistant. My friend Claire’s husband has Parkinson’s, they both felt like frauds at first. They got over it and thank goodness for that! A big issue with mobility issues is locking yourself inside so as not to be a bother.
And from an economic standpoint the music fests know if you can’t go they lose two ticket sales not the one freebie they give your assistant – inclusivity makes good economic sense. It isn’t charity.
It was so great to see you there… But I’m sorry you were in so much pain! Perhaps Hawksley’s voice soothed you a bit? I’ll have to make you some cookies too, I think!
I’m sure you’ve heard Hawksley Workman’s name a time or twelve. If you listen to CBC Radio One at all, there is hardly a program where they don’t throw his name about in one context or another. Whether it’s Vinyl Cafe, Q, DNTO, All In A Day, and perhaps even Tapestry, it’s all Hawksley, all the time. Sometimes I wonder if it isn’t subliminal messages just to make him well-known… we may have never heard his music, but by jingo, we’ll know his name!