Speaking truth to bullies

My plan was to prepare several new posts for the relaunch of my blog with a new name, McGuire on Life. I was going to explain what I have been doing for the last eight months and where I want to take the blog now.

I still want to do that and I will in the coming days. However, the Meryl Streep/Donald Trump contretemps along with an intriguing question from my wife forced my hand.

By now, most people know that arguably the best actress of our time accepted the Cecil DeMille  Lifetime Achievement award from the Hollywood Foreign Press Association Sunday with a lamentation about the President elect’ s lack of empathy.

Streep told the audience that the heartbreaking event of the year was “that moment when the person asking to sit in the most respected seat in our country imitated a disabled reporter. Someone he outranked in privilege, power and the capacity to fight back.”

Naturally, Donald Trump reacted the way all bullies do. He attacked by calling Streep overrated, he denied and he lied. He said he never mocked a disabled person.  Please watch this video and tell me Trump was not mocking Serge Kovaleski. This denial shocks and appalls. E. J. Montini, columnist for the Arizona Republic  wrote “But to continue denying irrefutable video evidence is bizarre at least and pathological at worst.”

Social media blew up Sunday night after the awards ceremony.  Twitter and Facebook was full of support for Streep’s courage and attacks charging she abused her position and opportunity. My wife, Candace, was passionate and immediately praised Streep on Facebook. As we went to bed she asked “Are you afraid to speak out against Trump?” I answered absolutely not, but the  question was not inappropriate because I have tried to keep a low profile about the President-elect on social media.

I have some bedrock beliefs and my trust in the American democratic process is one of them. This election did not go my way and that’s happened fairly often in my 45 years of voting. The people have spoken and so be it. I have not been comfortable bellyaching about the results on social media. No matter how big a mistake I believe was made, I think a good citizen should give the process a chance.

As I pondered my wife’s question and watched people defending and berating Meryl Streep, I realized something crucial about those bedrock beliefs of mine. The greatest is that we must love our brothers and sisters and treat them all with respect. I worried about this issue on November 7, the day before the election. I wrote this on Facebook.

“If you are still undecided please read this Washington Post story. As a disabled man and the father of a developmentally disabled man, I have taken this election very personally since Donald Trump mocked the disabled reporter from the New York Times. This story tells us he has obviously not learned his lesson. Is his horrible treatment of the disabled and other struggling Americans a reason to vote against the man? I believe it is. There are lots of ways to value life.”

I wrote then that I have taken this issue very personally. You see, Serge Kovaleski and I are probably the only two journalists in America with Arthrogriposis Multicongenita, a rare disease that literally means “curved joints.”  So yeah, when Trump mocked Kovaleski I saw a lot of mocking from my past, like the time three second graders made fun of the way I walked. Those little boys and Trump enraged me.

Meryl Streep totally nailed why this behavior from the leader of the free world is so dangerous and concerning when she said, “And this instinct, to humiliate when it’s modeled by someone in the public platform, by someone powerful, it filters down into everybody’s life. Because it kinda gives permission for other people to do the same thing.”

I am petrified that the new President’s abuse of everyone who disagrees with him, especially people who face life’s struggles, is going to spark an epidemic of mean-spirited ugly attacks. There is already evidence of that.

I do business with a man about once a month. We have become friendly. He told me a few weeks ago he voted for Trump “because things have to change.” That is his political opinion. As long as he’s talking about health care, education and foreign relations, no matter how much I  disagree, I will respect it.

But if the change that man and others want is the right and ability to bully the less fortunate in our society, I am going to fight those people with all my strength. And, I am going to vigorously support brave people with a real voice like Meryl Streep when they call for our leader to model civility, kindness and empathy.

My wife ‘s pointed question has helped me realize that politics is politics, but protecting those who need protecting is a higher calling that deserves my voice and Meryl Streep’s.

Tim J. McGuire is the author of “Some People Even Take Them Home” A Disabled Dad, A Down Syndrome Son and Our Journey To Acceptance.

Retirement, a time to pause, enjoy, reflect and plan the future

The first three days of my retirement from teaching at the Walter Cronkite School of Journalism I slept until 9 am and lollygagged around the house until about 11.

I felt guilty and pained. It felt like I was reneging on my commitments. Except I didn’t have any commitments!

My wife says I have done a better job “learning to be retired” in the last several days. I am completely unsure what that actually means so it is obvious I have a long way to go.

I retired once before, in 2002 and that one didn’t take.

It is apparent to me that like everything else retirement means different things to different people. I have a busy six months of national and world travel planned with lots of time reserved for grandkids, kids and brand new adventures with my wife. Yet, when that subsides I do not plan on climbing into a hammock with lemonade and bon bons. There is simply no way I can shut my mind off and withdraw.

I am going to be open to any and all possibilities, but I especially want to explore where my writing might take me. I have some specific book-length projects in mind, but by the time I sit down to a keyboard those concepts may morph several times. I think I have some important things to say. Finding the vehicles and style to say them are still a bit mysterious to me.

Where this blog fits is one of the key questions I need to reflect on for the next several months. It is obvious to anyone who has been following that my output has diminished. I could blame that on a hectic final semester with two new courses and one new mode of presentation. I could blame it on a reluctance to weigh in on certain topics because they struck me as too political. That all obfuscates the real reason which is that my mission became foggy.

When I started this blog in August of 2014 I had just lost my wife of 39 years and I was on the precipice of launching a book, “Some People Even Take Them Home,” A Disabled Dad, A Down Syndrome Son and Our Journey to Acceptance.

My passion was great and my mission was clear and simple: Offer insight into grief and the experience of disability. I pray I provided wisdom. You never get past either of those experiences, but the role of these posts became murkier as I found new love and married.

I am certain I will never run out of opinions, but over the next several months I want to think carefully about the mission of this blog and about who might care about my thoughts. The direction of my major writing projects will definitely have a major influence on whether and how I continue this blog.

I would love to hear your thoughts about what has worked over the last two years and what hasn’t. And, if you have thoughts about where I should take this blog from here I’d like to hear that too.

Until I weigh in again, be kind to each other.

Tim McGuire is the author of “Some People Even Take Them Home” A Disabled Dad, A Down Syndrome Son and Our Journey To Acceptance.

I think I figured out a new definition of love

I was driving down the highway when I think I realized my own personal definition of love. I will be 67 years old in a week or so, but I don’t think my discovery has come too late.

As I drove, I thought of my bride of six months, Candace. And, I smiled. It was the kind of smile that started at my mouth, occupied my entire mind and then made my insides all gooey. It was a smile of gratitude, a smile of comfort. I was consumed by that smile of love. I suddenly wanted to write a love letter to her. I guess this is it.

Passion is great, affection with a great big hug rewards the heart, and concern and care are certainly essential elements of love. But in that flash, I realized that real love brings with it that satisfied, contented and all-absorbing smile. And, I happily realized that smile of love has been a constant in my life.

As I reflected, I realized that smile was always the greatest sign that my late wife Jean and I had something special too. I was able to recall great feelings of satisfaction that were always marked by that smile that grabbed my soul. Even when she is gone I get consumed by that great big smile of love. It happened last weekend when I saw something in our old neighborhood that would have amazed and tickled her. That great big smile of love captivated me.

My kids induce that big, all-encompassing smile. Incredible emotional connections with my daughter, Tracy, warm me with that sort of smile and so do the incredible bouts of repartee I have with my son, Jeff. And the simple thought of my son Jason, who has Down syndrome, grips me with a smile that envelops my entire being. Then there are my two delightful grandchildren, Collin and Kayley. I smile so much when I think of them that I fairly burst. That’s the gooey kind of love.

I sometimes think people look in all the wrong places and for all the wrong emotions for love. I always feel sorry for the young couples who seem to think they are going to hear bells or giant gongs when they fall in love. There are no bells.

Happiness comes when we bask in the comfort, content and satisfaction of loving and being loved. When we find that sweet spot, a great big smile seizes our soul and carries us off to a special place worth celebrating.

Tim McGuire is the author of “Some People Even Take Them Home” A Disabled Dad, A Down Syndrome Son and Our Journey To Acceptance

 

Do the kind thing and don’t worry about gratitude

There is a meme running around Facebook that goes like this: “Have you ever gone out of your way to help someone and then find out how ungrateful they really are?”

I suppose it is a harmless expression of frustration, but it really bugs me. That’s really a self-destructive attitude and it’s mighty selfish. You did a nice thing and now you expect a parade? Good luck.

My late dad actually taught me that years ago. He would tell my mom and the kids, “do the nice thing but don’t sit around waiting for thank yous.” My dad wasn’t a great philosopher but every now and then he absolutely nailed it. When we get upset because somebody wasn’t grateful enough we give them control over our happiness and our goodness. And, your motive for being nice gets thrown into question too.

For me there is a tangible joy I get from doing the nice thing. Oh sure, I enjoy a hearty thank you and occasionally some recognition for the nice things I do, but I am working hard on not needing that. More and more I try to do silent acts of kindness.

Four or five times a week I have been buying coffee for the car behind me at the drive-thru Starbucks. Just because. It’s only a few bucks and I often jokingly tell the barista, “I need the good karma!” I make it a point not to linger or look back, to be sure I don’t do it for the acknowledgement.

It is nice when it comes. The other day I bought a $2.27 coffee for a guy. He apparently violated a speed limit or two because he caught up with me and hoisted his cup in a happy, appreciative, toast.

I thought little of it until I got to my office. I was a good 20 feet from the door when an exiting student stopped and held the door for me for several seconds. He went way out of his way to do the kind thing. Karma?

I didn’t know the young man. He had no duty to do the right thing. He didn’t hold that door for the thank you. He held the door because it was a nice thing.

As I walked away from that encounter with a little glow, I could not help but think about all the anger we see in the world and wonder if  being nice could help.

Perhaps we all need more good karma. Maybe we can find it by doing the nice thing and not getting pissed when people don’t bow down before us in gratitude.

Tim J McGuire is the author of “Some People Even Take Them Home” A Disabled Dad, A Down Syndrome Son and Our Journey To Acceptance

 

 

Suddenly my son’s health seems like a big deal

There is a short passage in “Some People Even Take Them Home” A Disabled Dad, A Down Syndrome Son and Our Journey To Acceptance about the day after my son, Jason, was born with Down syndrome. The staff pediatrician at the hospital was discussing the diagnosis with us. I wrote this:

He (the doctor) actually began the conversation with good news, but his delivery rankled more than it comforted. He had ordered an x-ray which revealed Jason’s esophagus was connected to his stomach. That’s not always the case with Down syndrome children. And, as far as the pediatrician could tell there were no heart problems, which is the other huge risk factor for Down’s babies. Jason was perfectly healthy except for that pesky mental retardation,(1979 term.) That blessing of good health didn’t impress us much that morning, but we have thanked God for Jason’s exceptionally good health practically every day since.

Jason has been incredibly healthy as a child and now as  an adult. He has been so healthy I am afraid I took that good health for granted.

Jason fell on the Minnesota ice and snow a few weeks before Christmas. When we visited during the holiday he complained that his back was hurting. So last week he visited his doctor.

His house manager wrote me after the appointment and said, “Jason was seen last night by his primary physician for his lower and mid back pain. He had three x-rays taken. The doctor stated that his bones were close together, but nothing that would require surgery. He suggested using ice as needed for pain and rest.”

On the face of that note Jason is fine. There is nothing to worry about. But I did and I do.

The words that leaped off the page for me were, “but nothing that would require surgery.” I had never come close to imagining Jason undergoing back surgery. In truth, I have more or less lost sight of the fact that Jason is aging and that he is going to have to deal with all of the things associated with that process.

Selfishly I think about how disruptive a major Jason illness or surgery would be for my family, but once I get past that I am frightened to death about how Jason would deal with a debilitating illness.

I am afraid that sort of experience would be overwhelming for him and that makes my stomach churn.

I can’t protect Jason from bad health any more than I can protect my other children, but in my mind they are adults and Jason is an innocent boy who needs my care and attention.

I am convinced Jason’s back will be fine, but this little scare has been valuable. It’s focused me on Jason’s vulnerability and caused me to think about some important contingencies around his future care.

And, I won’t take his good health for granted ever again.