Archives For Hope

Am I Just A Spectacle?

January 13, 2012 — 22 Comments

Sheri asked a great question over on the Facebook page yesterday.  She explained how her family, including her limb-different son, went to visit relatives over the holidays and that she “started to feel like those we were visiting were more interested in showing off his arm than they were in spending time with him.  One relative wanted him to bring his arm so she could ‘show her friends how he’s the same as others.'”  Sheri asked, “Do you (amputee or parent of one) feel like people can’t get past a missing limb?  That the person and/or prosthesis becomes a ‘side-show’ or a spectacle?”

My answer?  Yes and no.

For the most part, I believe people are trying to do the right thing, they just don’t know how to do it well.  They want to show that they are ok with the difference, but then they go overboard.  And this issue of “normalcy” makes things even more difficult.  It’s this strange balance of acknowledging that a person with a limb-difference is perfectly fine the way they are, but also realizing they are different; not “normal.”  You may remember the video I posted of when I was on the news eons ago.  My mother talked about how great it was to see me doing things “two-handed, normally two-handed.”  Was she disappointed that I performed tasks differently than people with two hands?  Of course not.  She struggled just as much as anybody with trying to express her joy in seeing me do something “the normal way,” while appreciating that I did things different and I was fine either way.

Aimee Mullins does a fantastic job in her powerful TED Talk of explaining the fallacy of normal.  There is no normal.  There’s common and typical, but no normal.  Everybody wants to feel normal, but normal is overrated.  However you do things is your normal.  Who cares how other people do it?

As far as Sheri’s questions go, I think people can get past the missing limb.  I actually know they can.  My sister used to tell me to “use your other hand” all the time.  I’d have to remind her, uh, I didn’t have one.  I’ve had many people tell me they forget I only have one hand.  I don’t understand how that’s even possible, but I have to believe them!

That said, when people encounter a difference like ours for the first time, it’s expected that they will not know how to react.  They know they should ignore it, but c’mon, he’s got one arm!  So, then they feel bad asking about it, but they really want to know.  I don’t envy their position.

That’s what this whole LivingOneHanded thing is for, by the way.  I’m putting myself out there as that “side-show” because I realize people want to know how I do things, but don’t want to be rude.  They want to see what’s “normal” for me.  And I’m happy to oblige.

Ultimately, people who are different in any way will have to deal with the fact that people won’t know how to react to them.  People will be nice, they’ll be rude, they’ll be inquisitive, they’ll insult, they’ll encourage…if you are different, you will experience the entire spectrum of reactions.  My opinion is, it will make life easier if you expect that.

This morning, for instance, I stopped at the grocery store to get breakfast.  I gave the older lady at the register my card and then she blurted out, “What happened to YOU?”  “Excuse me?” I asked.  It was so quick I didn’t understand her.  “What happened to you?” she repeated and nodded at my left arm.  “Oh, I was actually just born that way,” I replied.  “Hm,” she grunted and furrowed her brow.  I wished her a good day and went on my way.  It surprised me a little, but honestly, it didn’t bother me at all.  I expect the unexpected when it comes to my difference and I’m totally ok with that.

Is it frustrating to be to be a spectacle?  Sometimes.  Does it get old to be the subject of everyone’s curiosity?  Occasionally.  Do your friends and family get past it?  Absolutely.  And would I change any of it?

Absolutely not.

On The Chinese Finger Trap

January 5, 2012 — 2 Comments

"You're not so tough," said the princess calendar.

My son brought home a Chinese finger trap yesterday.  He was excited to show me how it worked.  When I told him to let me try it he raised an eyebrow and passed it to me.

“I hate these things,” I muttered.

Should I not have said that?

The Chinese finger trap has long been my nemesis.  I remember sticking my finger in one as a kid and having to spend an inordinate amount of time trying to get it out.

Maybe it’s not that I hate it, though.  I feel a little ripped-off, I suppose.  A little jealous.  See, the Chinese finger trap is actually kind of an awesome metaphor.  It shows that some problems (not all) can only be overcome by relaxing.  Once your fingers have been shoved inside, the harder you work and the more you stress about it, the harder it is to get them out.  Once you relax, though, you can slowly and methodically wriggle your fingers out of the trap.

Life can be like that sometimes.  We get all worked-up and stressed out and we try super hard to make something happen, when really what we need to do is relax.  Take it slow.  Breathe deeply.  Stop worrying.  Trust that it’ll work out.

That’s what a Chinese finger trap can teach you.

If I ever use it as an illustration in a speech, though, I’ll just have my son demonstrate it.

 

Back at the end of October (2011), I got a message on Facebook.  It was from Mike.  I had never met Mike.  I had written some posts about being one-handed on my blog and Mike found them, which was great because his son, Grant, had just been born with a left arm exactly like mine.  “Do you perform baptisms?” he asked.  I had just done my nephew’s, so I was in the baptizing mood.  I told him yes and after some back-and-forth, we nailed down a time and place and he sent out the Evites.

Well…today was the day.

I arrived early to church to turn on the heat and get things situated, but I wasn’t early enough.  No sooner had I opened the door and thrown down some ice-melt than family started showing-up.  I didn’t even have my tie on yet.  I was getting a little nervous and trying to make sure everything was prepared just right.  But then, I started to meet the family.  I can’t remember her name, but one of the aunts came up to me and gave me a great big hug and thanked me for “doing this.”  It was the greatest.  Then I met Mike’s sister and the sponsors and the great-grandparents…it felt like a family reunion!

Eventually we all filed into the sanctuary and got the party started.  As I stood there in front of this group of amazing people, I couldn’t help but feel excited.  Maybe that’s a strange thing to feel at a baptism, but to me it was bigger than just the baptism.  It was about Grant.  And his parents, Mike and Tara.  And his big sister, Baylee.  It was about the fact, the fact, that he and they are surrounded by people who love them.  People who will be there and are learning together with them about what it means to raise a child with a limb difference.  That community is the most important thing, I believe, for Grant.  He is going to grow-up knowing that he is loved and that he can be and do whatever he wants.  I’m confident of that.

After the ceremony, we all went to lunch together.  My son Sam made a new friend in Mike’s nephew, Luka; Tara tripped over my wife’s purse and fell so hard I thought she was dead; I had a great talk with Mike’s sister Jeanne and her husband.  Another fantastic moment was when we opened our gift from Mike and Tara and it was a gift card to one of our favorite restaurants.  Actually, the fantastic moment came after that when we said, “You guys, we love this place!  How did you know?”  “Tara stalked you on Facebook,” Mike answered.  Tara, you are the best.  Then, just before the food came, Mike addressed the group.  He thanked everyone for being there and for traveling so far (especially himself – they came all the way from Connecticut!) and then he said some incredibly kind things about me.  Mike and his family helped me realize the kind of impact I can have in peoples’ lives.  And similarly, the impact they have on mine.

Everyone started to filter out after a while, so we rounded-up our kids and said our goodbyes, too.  It was sad to realize that we don’t know when we’ll see everyone again, but we’re so thankful for the time we had together.  We’ll never forget it.

And there’s always the internet for staying connected.  Like Tara’s dad said, “I guess there are some good things on there after all.”

Thank you, Schneiders, for inviting us into your lives and for helping us to end 2011 on a high note!

(For the full gallery of pictures, click here – and “Like” the page!)

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The Family!

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Tara, Baylee, Me, Grant and Mike

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Me and Grant

2011 has been an amazing year. Especially the last month or so! I had been looking forward to starting LivingOneHanded.com for a long time, so finally getting it out into the world has been so much fun. By far, the best part has been getting to hear from all of you! Your comments and emails really do mean the world to me. As much as I enjoy trying to be funny (with mixed results, I’m sure), this endeavor is all about you. All of you. Grown-ups with limb differences, parents of LD kids, LD kids, grandparents, friends…seriously, anyone who values people and believes we are all made the way we are for a reason; this is for you.

I wanted to take a second, too, to say thanks to everyone for sharing this site and the Facebook page. You’re awesome! I especially want to mention Jen at BornJustRight.com and Molly at LuckyFinProject.org and Jana at Nubability.com and Tony Memmel…thank you all for being so supportive and sharing your influence with me. And thanks to Brene Brown for helping me to start living whole-heartedly.

So, here’s to 2012. Let’s make it incredible!

Sincerely,
Ryan

Merry Christmas from the Haacks!

In a couple weeks I get to baptize a little boy named Grant.

Grant was born missing his left arm below the elbow, just like me.

I was telling my son about it and he goes, “So, a one-armed guy is baptizing a one-armed baby? Weird.”

I asked him why he thought it was weird and he just shrugged.  I dug a little deeper and it turned out he was somewhat freaked out by a baby with one arm.  He’s used to me; his daddy with one arm.  But, that doesn’t mean he’s automatically comfortable with other people who are different than him.

I’ve never really thought about teaching my kids to accept others who are different than them.  I guess I just figured they’d do it automatically because I only have one arm.  The truth is, though, that’s not how it works.  They’re used to me, sure, but that doesn’t make them impervious to the natural tendency to be uncomfortable with others who are not like them.

I’ve gotten so many comments from parents of kids who are missing limbs since I launched this site.  I promise you, nothing makes me happier.  Every time I hear from a mom who says her son watches my videos or a dad who is encouraged to see that his son will be able to live a normal life, I smile from ear to ear.  It brings me great joy to help and encourage in any way I can.  As far as raising limb-different children, though…I can only share my experience of being raised as a limb-different person.  I’m inspired by the parents who write to me.  They are the heroes here.

Some of their stories break my heart.  The stories about their kids being followed around on the playground, being made fun of and gawked at.  I don’t remember ever experiencing that myself.  Maybe I blocked it out of my mind.  I’ll ask my mom.  Those stories are what inspired me to write “How To Survive Being Stared At.”  These kids deserve to know they are valuable and loved and created perfectly.  People can be cruel.  And kids can be cruel and not even be aware of it.

As a dad, that’s what I’ve been thinking about lately.  I have work to do with my own.  They certainly aren’t mean or rude and they probably have a bit of a head-start with me as their father, but I still need to be intentional about teaching them to accept others who are not like them.  For a kid, that’s nearly everyone, too.  People who are really tall or very short, very black or lighter brown, very skinny or overweight, people in wheelchairs and people with walking-sticks…the list goes on and on.  And every single one of those people deserves to be treated with respect and kindness.  That’s what I want to teach my own kids.

Then again, these are their best friends:

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Can anyone say United Colors of Benneton?

I guess we’re doing something right.

How do you teach your kids to be accepting of those who are not like them?