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It’s called an “adaptive stroller”. It’s basically a baby stroller for big people. Reinforced composite gray pipes crisscross, accented with dull black grips and straps. A royal blue canvas holds the entire industrial monstrosity together. When Jacob first takes his seat, he looks the perfect part of a Bond supervillain, especially as he wraps his tiny fingers around the black foam armrests and crosses his legs. A gleam is in his eye and the corner of his mouth slightly turns up.
The moment is short-lived. Jacob grabs his “stuffie,” a small stuffed character we have deemed appropriate for him to have during social gatherings, and begins twirling it back and forth in front of his nose. The motion calms him, as does the sensation of the fabric as it gently, most times at least, hits his chin and lower lip. A liberal application of medicated lip ointment is always needed, especially during the winter months; this sensation he desires so much tends to dry his lower lip to the point of cracking and bleeding. It’s a challenge, but we have learned to pick our battles. The “stuffie” is better than, say, teeth grinding or screaming. Screaming is really fun in a crowded room.
A young lady dressed in Middle Earth Elvin approaches and talks to Jacob, “Hi! What’s your name?” Jacob tenses his entire body at the attention. His arms pull up crossing at his neck and he squeals.
“This is Jacob,” I answer for him. She smiles and puts out her hand. Jacob relaxes a bit and gives her a gentle five.
“Are you having fun, Jacob?” she asks.
“He is, thank you.” I answer, and then continue, feeling the need to explain, “He’s non-verbal.”
“Have you gotten to meet anyone today?” She is still talking with Jacob who is moaning and rocking now, but every so often shooting her some eye contact as if he is giving her a suspicious once-over.
“Not yet,” I respond for him again, “We’re hoping to meet Patrick Stewart.”
The young lady begins sifting through her elfin bag as though she were looking for a misplaced a magic wand. Instead, she pulls out a small card and hands it to me. It is stamped with black ink on a few white spaces, but much of it is still clean.
“I got to meet him and a few others already, but” she points to the open slots on the card, “You can see there are plenty of spots left. Show this card to the people at his table and you’ll go right to the front.”
I look back and forth from the card to her. This is a VIP Pass, and it cost her more than a few silver coins from Gondor, I am sure. She is now playing with Jacob, who is feeling much more comfortable with her. Our eyes meet and we share a brief moment of silent connection.
‘She gets it!’ I think, as I smile. Her perfect response without saying a word, ‘Of course I do.’
“Thank you so much,” I say, finally breaking the silence between us.
“Enjoy,” she answers. She gives Jacob another five and melts away into the crowd.
As she leaves, I look around the arena. There is a rather rotund man beside me wearing a blond wig and wielding Thor’s Hammer. He squeezes past a Robin from the DC Comics world, except she wears her costume and green tights better than poor Burt Ward ever did in that 1960’s Batman series. We dodge a Gandalf wielding his cardboard wizard staff who is desperately trying to avoid bumping into a life-sized remote-controlled R2D2. Mr. Spock is conversing—rather logically, I am sure—with Captain America and a member of a Kiss cover band.
This is far from what many may consider ordinary. At this moment I recognize what is remarkable about this community.
Imagine, for your whole life, you have been set apart from the mainstream. You have been banished to the fringes of society. You have been castigated and cast down for being weird or odd, a geek or a nerd, simply for celebrating what you enjoy.
So when folks like these have the opportunity to meet Jacob, a heart shines through spandex suits and plastic body armor. Compassion reaches out behind masks and make-up. They do not see weird or odd. They do not see different. Simply put, Jacob is one of them. In the greatest way possible, neither Jacob nor I is made to feel “special” or “unique”. Here, we are “ordinary”.
Here, being “ordinary” is the greatest feeling in the world.
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This post is republished on Medium.
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