I was rereading Harriet McBryde Johnson's book
Too Late to Die Young:Nearly True Tales from a Life on my Kindle the other night when I realized that, although I never met Harriet, I have learned so much from her writings that I forget that fact.
It is much the same way with some people I've met online. I learn so much from so many watching how they navigate the world, but more importantly, I so appreciate it when people write in a way that reveals something about their humanity.
Harriet, pictured above at her office desk, sitting with her chin in her left hand, ran for office, faced down the Secret Service, and protested the Jerry Lewis telethon - before that was even heard of.
She also wrote about being an attorney with a disability, about how on her way to court one day a bystander told her she looked like a Doll Baby, all dressed up. Harriet joked about it in her book, in a style that is both endearing, yet clearly draws a line about the perceptions people have which radiate through the lives of people with disabilities.
It reminded me of the day when I was outside of District Court in my wheeelchair and the guard refused me entrance when I said I was an attorney, telling me "They don't allow people like you to be lawyers." One cell phone call and he found out they don't allow people like him to be guards.
I'll never ever have Harriet's southern charm.
She writes about needing people to drive her to court in her van and paying them with stories. And I imagined the other night that I was sitting in her van with her, on our way to court, listening to her tell me about rolling through the streets of Charleston, comparing notes about our own journeys. Or how she stood up to Peter Singer. Or a myriad of other stories, ones that she had time to write about and all the ones, unfortunately, that she didn't.
But one thing I really have to add here, because I know it was important to her, is that Harriet wanted no child to grow up living as if he/she had no future because of his/her disability. Her experiences were far different than mine and I have far too much respect for that to pretend otherwise, but for other reasons, I join in that wish.
Tonight, after I finish my work, I'll spend fifteen or twenty minutes with Harriet's book. I'll listen to a story. Because I never get tired of hearing her words and, more importantly, the strong, strident voice with the southern charm behind them.
