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June 8, 2004 "What happened?" the customer behind me whispered, clenching a box of homemade chocolates. "Nothing," I lied, wincing and holding my hands to my head. I'd been talking to the owner of an old fashioned ice cream shop in a small town. I walked in to the 1950s type parlor on this brilliant, sun-shiney day, to see how she felt about the article I'd written about her sister who died in the World Trade Center. But I gave her a big hello - using her sister's name by mistake instead of her name. "I am so stupid," I berated myself silently. The woman however, had a peaceful look ricocheting off my self-berating look and she said: "I know what you meant to say. Just means you were thinking of my sister, is all." She told me customers had come in for days after the article came out...offering her copies and saying they liked the article. I'd come to see if she was okay, but here she was reasurring me instead. During the interview a week or so ago, she'd told me that her father, who was in his 80's at the time of the Sept. 11, 2001 events, never stood up afterward. He was sitting in a chair, saw it on TV...and never stood up. "Just lost the will to ever get up again," is what she'd told me. Physical reaction to an emotional event. I remember years ago, as a 12-year-old girl, I saw the movie "Goodbye Girl" and I made note to myself that big events can cause physical reactions when I saw that the main character, who found out smack in the middle of her marriage that her husband was with someone else,vomited on the spot, smack in the middle of a New York City sidewalk. I was so surprised at such a physical reaction to intangible news... I don't know what exactly the connection is - or why I am finding myself thinking about this - but today, I was opening up the mail - and as an editor, believe me you get a lot of mail - but there was ONE photo that struck me. Gave me a physical reaction. It was an awfull photo - yet it mesmorized me. A puzzling expression on someone's face. A woman dressed in pearls and a royal blue business suit with perfectly coiffed hair. She sat in an old fashioned wooden well-carved chair. But she sat at attention - and she appeared very proud. I read the press release, though normally I would not have. She had down syndrome, it said. And she had never left the group home where she was brought when she was one and one half years old. The nurses who take care of her at the group home had written to the newspaper that the world was lucky to have this woman. I'm a busy editor at a newspaper. I should be TOO busy for such things. But it's caused a reaction in me. A calmness. A sense of peace that things are right in the world. The nurses kind-of sent out a message in a bottle and it made it to me. I will print their message. And indeed, seems to me the world is better for down syndrome women in neatly brilliant blue business suits who have never left the grounds of a group home yet are so appreciated by nurses - as well as by editors - that they make it into the newspapers. That's all. Tell you more tomorrow. ------------ About the author: Chrissa Falcon is a newspaper reporter in the New York Metropolitan Area. Chrissa may be reached at ChrisFalconColumn@hotmail.com Tell a friend about this site! ------------ |
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