Tuesday, March 24, 2009
Reaching for the light
Monday, March 16, 2009
re: Muskoka mourns
NOTE: I learned of this heartbreaking story through facebook and believe these two need to be remembered if not for those that knew her, but, more importantly, for those that will never get the chance.
Muskoka is grieving for a mother and her daughter.
Located a couple hours north of Toronto, where the senses are often stimulated by the sound of rustling leaves, Loon cries echo, smell of pine waft across the morning air, and the sunsets' warmth tickle the nose while captivating the eyes, the people are in shock upon learning the death of community service worker Carolyn Bray and her pre-teen daughter Jolene Helen Robinson. Both their bodies were found this past Sunday in Lake Rosseau.
Carolyn was a pillar to the community as the executive director of the Muskoka YWCA.
Unconfirmed reports said the sports-utility-vehicle they were driving crashed through the ice while Carolyn's husband followed behind on an all-terrain-vehicle. He was unable to save them.
Although I was not close friends with either I am left numb, empty and cold. The past few months though I was getting to know Carolyn better through facebook. It's my regret to not have done it sooner when I was there.
It was through my work at the newspaper in Muskoka (a region better know for its natural surrounding beauty than anything less than postcard perfect) I knew both of them, mainly from their accomplishments and achievements, which I documented regularly in words and in photos for the local newspapers.
Jolene always had a smile full of teeth and eyes that caught every ray of light. I nearly recorded all of her accomplishments as a proficient chess player, and an enthusiastic dancer that drew the attention of the audience.
Carolyn I saw at many of her events. Her efforts through the YWCA were evident in every young strong girl in the region through such programs as the Girlz Unplugged that focused on empowering young girls. My last interaction with her was at the YWCA Gala Women of Distinction a few months ago in Huntsville when I volunteered to photograph the event. Although I was more or less asked to go Carolyn made sure I was treated well and she never let me forget the value of my contribution for the event.
This consideration for others is what will always stand out for me and will be with me forever.
I can only hope that many others will continue with life in the same manner of community service and the verve for life both Carolyn and her daughter Jolene exhibited on a daily basis.
Friday, March 13, 2009
re: Humble pie
Taking things as they come is all about learning.
The truth of it is evident when you're in a foreign country.
I suppose I took it one step, or should I say I just went with the roll of things when I visited with the Århus Vikings wheelchair basketball team.
Through the internet I managed to find their team website. A quick phone call, and with little suspicion in her questions or the way she spoke to me, their chairperson Annette Mikkelsen invited me to join the team this past Tuesday.
She spoke to me at length of the long road the country, cities and towns need to do for people in wheelchairs. I was in disbelief. In Canada I know we have made attempts to make life easier for people with disabilities, but have a long way to go. I did not know it was worse here.
For instance disabled parking spots are a premium and are often ignored, used by able-bodied people. When they are present they are often placed where the driver cannot exit the vehicle. The government implementation of anything remotely resembling assistance in the way of city planning seems to fall short of anything ideal. Such as the city centre of Aarhus where a new area was constructed using cobble stones instead of paved surfaces. Not hard for walkers, but try moving in a wheelchair and the beauty of the old look is frustratingly obvious. New buildings requiring bathrooms for the disabled do very few people any good when placed in the basement. Such oversight seems out of place in a social welfare country that purports to be the champion of everyone. The truth seems far from the reality.
Started in 1974, the team plays in a gymnasium (although this means high school in Danish I don't know what else to call it) that has brick walls, and has an atmosphere of an old boxing arena, full of fight, but almost forgotten, just off the main road, between residential buildings and an open field. Located in a small school located in North Braband, their playing facility is a you know where it is or you don't air to it.
At the setting of the sun I was off to play wheelchair basketball for the first time. I figured with the overwhelming newness (is that a word?) of my life I figured, why stop?
Going down the stairs it seemed ironic I would move up to a greater understanding after this experience. I'm probably exaggerating, but as a story teller it's just poetic license to bring significance from the ordinary.
When language is a barrier the only other thing you fall back on are the connections, no matter how weak. Luckily I didn't have to resort to such things as a quick smile, from a blond, middle-aged woman with a pony tail in a wheelchair, and a, “Hey, you must be Darren" came my way.
It was Annette, who was with another new addition to the team.
With more than 25 players, ranging in ages from 17 - 55, the team has the most amount of players on one team in Denmark and probably the greatest diversity. The older and more skilled players, who are under the watchful youthful eyes of the newer players, are reassuring and encourage with smiles.
Under the flicker of the florescent lights, players were eating sandwiches, chatting about the days events and getting outfitted with wheelchairs and wheels in preparation for the practice session. Despite the cold glare of the light, there was enough warmth from the smiles that were exchanged and passed from one person to another in the minutes leading up to the drills.
A pre-teen boy, slight of frame, led the group, including me, through a series of stretches and drills, including dribbling and overhead ball movements. After about 20 minutes I was nearly ready to call it a day and use the excuse of shooting to rest my weary arms and ego.
Through it all Annette kept a watchful eye on my (or lack thereof) progress.
Done with the drills, the coach came and gathered the players to discuss the team drills that included several skill stations for the divided groups of two to perform in a set time.
I was paired with a late-comer, who was equally inept as he was also able-bodied. Niddel, a guy from Viborj, has been a volunteer helping able-bodied basketball programs came out to try his hand at the wheelchair version of the game.
The operation of the chair was not too bad as I got better as time wore on, but playing added to the mix and it was like a driving manual transmission car, or operating a motorcycle for the first time. The senses were overwhelmed and the more you think the more mistakes you commit.
Not sure what the other players were thinking as we rolled ourselves around, trying to get our rebounds after missed shots, but I left with a sore side and a smile not to mention a new understanding of the world from a wheelchair.
The players on the team demonstrated a drive and determination in the scrimmage, which is fueled by passion for the love of the sport.
Although the team drives to win it isn't their motivation to train twice a week it seems to lie in the acceptance of new players, who are disabled and able-bodied like me (who is a lousy able-bodied basketball player so adding the wheelchair was interesting).
Annette said when one of the players was asked about their standing in the world from a reporter during the European Championships last year he said their claim that they are the best in Denmark stays true regardless of who they play in the world.
These players may be in wheelchairs, but are far from being anything less than people with a passion for life and the game of wheelchair basketball.
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