"This is really beginning to bother me."

During our field trip to AFI, Danielle and I conversed with two women, Edna and Cheryl, in different sittings.  We talked about our hobbies, the clothes we like, our favorite foods, amongst other things that you might talk about with a new acquaintance.  At one point, a man offered to throw Edna’s cup away, and after he took it, he tapped us on the shoulder and said, “Watch this!  Watch this!”  He shot across the room towards the trash can exclaiming, “VROOM!”  I laughed for a long time, and realized that I had forgotten how rewarding it was to spend time with the mentally “handicapped”.  Throughout our conversations, I was able to relate to the play and the essay in the sense that we are all people, and as Professor Corrigan said, it might be better to put people in more specific categories rather than call them “normal” or “abnormal”.  For example, Edna and I might be “people who love the color pink,” and “people who wear costume jewelry,” and Cheryl and I fit into the category of, “people who like to watch game show bloopers,” or “people who love to laugh.”  While I enjoyed talking with the clients, at the same time I wanted to burst into tears.  Not tears of pity, necessarily – or at least, not entirely – but something else that I’m not sure how to explain.  There’s something emotionally overwhelming about encouraging people old enough to be your parents on their reading skills.  For the rest of the day at school, I felt as though I was almost in a fog. 

  I chose to re-read the first thirty pages of the Boys Next Door, but this time, I tried to thoughtfully read through the section on costuming, trying to imagine what the characters would look like in “real life”, and how their dress reflected their being.  I found it to be more enlightening this time, I think.  Somehow, I felt I was able to understand the characters in a different way.  I tried to picture some of the clients I met in their position, and tried to think carefully about the personal interaction and communication within the play.  I thought about the friendships I saw at AFI, the high-fives and hugs and nicknames.  It also made me want to cry. 

What I thought about most after our field trip were the individuals we met.  More than thinking about the concept of disability, I kept thinking about these people.  I think that’s important, somehow. 

What’s next?  I’m not sure.  I think the most practical thing for me to do is write letters.  I’ll have to think about it.