When does one finally realize they
are getting old? Is it when we no
longer look forward to Friday nights—going out to the bar or the movies? Is it when we buy tour first car that has
four-doors or that gas saving motor?
Perhaps it is when our high school reunion rolls over from one-digit to
two-digits?
What ever your demarcation is, or
will be, there comes a time when each of us must acknowledge that time has
continued, as we were busy living. We
actually never realize the progression of age.
At least not as we notice it on others.
How many times have we meat an old “friend” from the distant past and
the first thing we think is “Do I look that good / bad?” Or we find ourselves out in the community at
some event or strolling the local big box store and we notice some one looking
at us. We wonder are they
flirting? DO they know me? OMG, they are so OLD, why would they even
think…then we realize the ultimate truth—we are about the same age—which
means—I AM OLD.
Yeah, tell me something new. Actually this is not the point I am coming
to. Age is but a slice of the blooming
onion. There ARE many other slices such
as education, economic status, employment, community, and the ability to access
these and other slices slice with dignity and respect.
The focus of this SNARK sprung to
life as a result of a personal disappointment.
Not that this was any more disappointing that having worked in the same
career for over 20 years and I am barely making what I did when I started in
1995. We are all told that work hard,
it will pay off. Do what you love; it
has its own rewards. Stay focused and
on point and your efforts will be recognized.
But what if you go above and
beyond, but you just don’t hold the party line? Or worse yet, you are unable to without compromising your
clients?
But as usual, I digress. Returning to the topic at hand, which was
what exactly?
OH, it was being able, or actually
ALLOWED to access the onion with dignity and respect and how I survived yet
another personal disappointment today.
It is this event that once again brought me to think about a friend I
never got around to seeing as often as I should have since I left Madison,
Wisconsin in 1997.
When I met Mark, he was the epitome
of dignity and respect. The
poster-person for determination if there ever was going to be such a
person. Mark grew up in Madison, went
to school in Madison, and lived every day (except the days I took him out of
the state) in Madison as if he was on a new adventure. Mark had two, TWO degrees from the Madison
Area Technical College—one in CISCO and the other in Microsoft Office. Either one would have been a ticket to
prosperity back in the early 1990s.
Mark had a very active social
life. He was often seen on State Street
during the day, in and out of the shops and when he reached the University
Union, he stopped for a bit, and slurped on a cold cola, maybe a burger and
fries. Then he would head back towards
the Capitol on State Street, stopping to chat with all the people he knew, and
all those he had not met, until that day.
Mark would get on the 25 bus, and head home for some dinner, a shower
and a few hours of programming before dinner.
After dinner, mark was back on
State Street from 8:00 P.M until 1:00 A.M Monday through Thursday. He always finished the night at the local
college bar, Bullwinkle’s. There he
would dance the night away. The women
he knew from his previous excursions always had a few new friends who had all heard
about Mark. By 1:00 A.M. Mark was ready
to head back home and get an early start in the morning. By all appearances, Mark was having the time
of his young life
Yet, every day Mark experienced
disappointment in his personal life, particularly in the area of employment.
Having completed two IT programs still was not enough to get Mark an offer for
employment. Once he had an offer to do
some work for a nonprofit doing data entry in a spreadsheet, but once that job
was completed, there was no other offers waiting. Mark tried several other avenues, designing websites on some of
those free hosting sites as a way of advertising his talent. Everyday, Mark anticipated a knock at his
door, a letter in the mailbox, an email from a stranger or a phone call from an
enthusiastic employer who had discovered his skills. There was nothing but SILENCE.
Eventually, after too many
disappointments, possibilities no longer shine as they once had. The morning is no longer an exciting event
and your friends are not as interesting as they were yesterday.
That is what I felt when I was
faced with my latest disappointment. I
understood what it feels like to always do your best. To put that best foot forward and always, always provide a fair
day’s work for a fair day’s pay. Only
Marko never had that opportunity to work with dignity and respect. Having dignity and respect in one’s social
life is great and all, but it is having respect and dignity via work is what
validates us as human beings, not just a life form, but a contributing member
of our community. Be it good or be it
bad, our work defines who we are and gives all of us standing within our
society. So when I encounter
disappointment, and I wonder just how I can deal with yet another set back, I
think of Mark.
He NEVER was given the opportunity
to be employed with dignity and never had the respect associated with holding
your own. Even though there was no
pressure on Mark, there was no realistic reason why Mark should have been
concerned with securing employment, because Mark had fought his entire life for
dignity and respect from the day he was born.
Beginning September 08, 1970, everyday was a struggle for dignity and
respect. Living with cerebral palsy,
Mark never asked for favors. He never
took charity. Rather, he dove into
every experience for all it was worth.
But eventually we all grow weary of
the battle. Even when we look back at
all our victories, there is always ONE tat has eluded us. The one we will never overcome and claim as
ours. For Mark, that was employment
with dignity and respect. It wasn’t the
money (though money does make some jobs easier), the benefits, or even the
actual work. As it is for many of us,
work allows us to bond with others who hopefully share our passion. Who take us in and embrace us when we are
successful, and they take us in and embrace us when we stumble—reminding us
there is always another day.
But for Mark, on November 01, 2010,
that next day would never come again.
Mark felt his community had let him stumble one to many times when it
came to employment. So Mark decided he
had one last job he could do. So he
boarded the 25 bus one last time, and went for a one-way stroll down State
Street, to the University Memorial Union.
From there, Mark directed his power chair across the isthmus to Monona
Bay. There, adjacent to Lake Monona,
where Otis Redding’s lane went down December 10, 1967, Mark slipped from his
power chair into the cold depths of history.
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