Inspiration

 

 

 

 

It is interesting to me how often we find inspiration in the most unlikely places. Yesterday I was in need of some inspiration and lo and behold it was offered to me on a silver platter. Well, not literally but it  felt very much that way.

I was having lunch with a couple of lady friends in a new restaurant, handily located two doors down from my where I have my Spanish class, at Juan’s Café. We had just ordered and were chatting while we waited for our lunch, when an elderly lady walked in to the restaurant. She didn’t stay, I guess she realized that it was new and just wanted to look around.

As I watched her walk in I experienced the strangest sensation. She didn’t exactly walk with ease, but neither did she use a cane or walker which is quite common here with all the uneven cobblestone streets and sidewalks. She was just relaxed and looking around. I really don’t think either of my companions even noticed her.

Suddenly I was overcome with emotion. I was very, VERY close to tears. I guess it was just the way that this person took for granted her ability to walk unassisted.

For those of you who may not know, I had a very serious accident three years ago. A ladder slid out from under me and I fell 7 meters to a tile covered concrete floor, on top of the ladder. I cracked my skull open and sort of exploded my left leg. Now since that time I have been somewhat in awe of the fact that if I had fallen on my head first instead of my leg, I would very likely be dead or at  least paralyzed.

The fact that I was so incredibly lucky has managed to sustain my positive outlook. After three years and seven operations people often say that they are amazed at how I manage to remain so upbeat, and usually I really do. Three months ago we bought a little ultrasound machine that my doctor recommended to stimulate bone growth, and I had some pretty high hopes that this would be the thing that finally made the difference in my recovery.

Two weeks ago I went to Queretaro to see my doctor and get new ex-rays. We all sat down to look at them with great anticipation. Only to discover that there was not a significant amount of new bone growth and also that there were 3 broken screws in my leg. I have to go back in four weeks for another ex-ray and if there are any more screws broken the doctor will have to go in again and replace them all……

At the time all I really thought was “Oh crap”, here we go again, and dollar signs were rolling around in my head at the thought of yet another surgery. I guess emotionally it took it’s toll though.

I imagine the sudden wave of emotion I experience yesterday was simply a moment of grief over the loss of my mobility and independence. Although I am usually a pretty positive person, I don’t think this was really abnormal, but what surprised me was that it stuck with me. All yesterday afternoon and evening that feeling kept returning to me. I even woke up with it this morning.

Then I decided that I would do some painting and while I was getting all my equipment together I came across some old photos that I had stuck in with my painting stuff. Not just sure why, but there they were.

The pictures were of Harold. Harold lived about a half block from where I worked in North Vancouver. It was a medium care facility for old folks, and actually my dad had lived there for a while too. One day he walked into my cosmetic department and said “Can you make me look like a Samurai?” He was 94 years old, hunched over with a skin condition, like dermatitis or something.

I laughed, and said that I wasn’t sure but I would be happy to try. The picture at the top of the post is the result. After that I saw Harold quite frequently. As it turned out he had always wanted to be an actor but first parents, and then wives and kids had gotten in the way of that dream. Then at 94 he decided that he could still have some fun. He loved to dress up and for every holiday he would go to a costume shop and chose something to wear at the old folks home. Then he came to me and told me what kind of makeup we would be doing that day. The folks at the home loved it, and loved Harold.

I also loved Harold. He was a great inspiration, not only to me, but to everyone he met. He was so happy and alive. He told me wonderful stories of his life and although he didn’t get to do what he really wanted, he made the absolute most out of what he had. It has been over eight years since I have seen Harold, and I suspect that he has gone on to amuse folks in whatever plane of existence comes after life.

Finding those pictures this morning put me back on the right path. It seems that Harold can still inspire me. I am leaving you with some photos of Harold’s great exploits.

 

Mae West

 

Irish milk maid

 

Cleopatra

 

Dance Hall girl?

 

Thank you Harold