Wednesday, March 25, 2015

I've have spent many an hour thinking about sidewalks....I know sidewalks


In early March, I was reading a Facebook posting by Jane Kansas, a friend in Halifax, and she wrote:

"Why am I walking around the North End of Halifax and still there is no end in sight for the slippy street and sidewalk shit-show going on? What if you are in any way mobility impaired? What if you use a walker? What if you just have weak ankles? What if you have shitty cheap shoes? What it, god for-fucking-fend, you use a wheelchair? Just fuck off and die, I guess."

And I really understand and empathize, and sympathize and endorse her sense of frustration and near despair. Sidewalks can do that to you, especially sidewalks covered by snow and ice. Halifax has had it rough this year, a lot of snow and a real on-going controversy about sidewalk clearing. Jane's rant in the moment of anger touched a chord and got me thinking hard once again about sidewalks. 

I do think about sidewalks a lot and have for years. As a pedestrian with some mobility issues, navigating sidewalks has always been a challenge. Sidewalks have a long history and there are deep connections and intersections between sidewalks and the ways we live together. In the 1990s and the first decade of this century, I was mostly concerned with and provoked by how difficult sidewalks were becoming with double-wide baby carriages, too too many bicycle riders, joggers, runners and kids on scooters and Rollerblades."City Sidewalks Busy Sidewalks," might make many people think of Christmas; to me it is just the norm. Sidewalks are busy and sidewalks are different everywhere. New York City sidewalks are a totally different experience from sidewalks in the west end of Toronto or in Niagara-on-the-Lake where sometimes there are no sidewalks at all. Sidewalks in business districts are different from shopping districts and different again from sidewalks in residential areas or suburbs. 

But nowhere have I found sidewalks as idiosyncratic or difficult as in Buenos Aries, Argentina. 

The picture is me navigating a very normal stretch of sidewalk in BA. In Buenos Aries, each building owner is responsible for the piece of the sidewalk in front of the building. So on any given street the sidewalks are a tapestry reflecting the tastes, inclinations and financial soundness of each building's owners. In the course of a stroll you encounter tile, concrete, stone, marble, brick, steel and each one of these sections can be in pristine shape, slightly damage, a wreck or missing huge chunks. Or sometimes it is under repair and passage is completely impossible. 

Everyday, leaving our apartment and going for a stroll was an exercise in nerve, attention, worry and pure adventure. I found myself wondering about why someone would choose tile over steel plate, brick over concrete, sloping vs flat. I also found myself noting how my walking changed depending on the material in question, the angle of the sidewalk or the degree of apprehension being created by the state of the sidewalk ahead. 

Sometimes, I curse my need to attend to the ground I walk on when I realize what I am missing by not staring ahead or around and then I think about what I am learning about human locomotion and the built environment all arout me. It's a trade-off. P 

Friday, March 6, 2015

A couple of months ago, someone asked me if it was true that I had a book coming out. I said yes and went on to add that it was scheduled to be published in April and that the title was " The Man Who Learned to Walk Three Times". The person I was talking with was quiet for a moment and then asked "What's it about?" And I will admit that I was stumped. If the title was insufficiently self-explanatory than I had no idea what the phrase self-explanatory meant. It is truly an account of the three times I have learned how to walk.

But now, there is a blog with the same title and I am stuck with the same question my friend had. What's a blog called The Man Who Learned To Walk Three Times about? And why should you read the blog, if you can read the book and vice versa?  The reality is that the book and the blog share a title and that's about it.

So what can you expect?

Science, Sociology, Spirituality, Analysis, Humour, Observation, Photos, the odd interview, a stanza or two of poetry, a  few chords of music and stories, lots of stories.

In the book, I recount and reflect on three difficult times in my life, and what those repeated efforts to acquire the skill of walking meant to me and my family, in practical terms and psychologically, In the process of writing the book, my fascination with walking, a thing that has always bothered and perplexed me, grew, and my fascination and curiosity about walking continues to grow.

Walking is both the easiest thing a person does and the hardest thing imaginable. There is an old joke about learning to ride a bicycle and how you never forget. I never learned how to ride a bicycle, leg problems made it an activity fraught with potential problems, but if it is anything like learning to walk, you can forget and forgetting something as simple as walking opens up a whole universe of contemplation, reflection and speculation. How we learn, walking or anything, how we forget, what makes walking different and the same as any human physical activity, what impact does our difficulties with walking have on our day-to-day lives and other's perceptions of our day-to-day lives, what role does technology play in learning to walk, in maintaining the ability to walk, in re-acquiring the ability to walk or even replace it are all questions I will be tackling in this blog. I'll explore everything from side-walks to shoe design, braces to balance, canes to conundrums and everything in between.

The other thing this blog is about is the very process of writing and talking about the deeply intimate and deeply troubling situation of being less than perfect, being ill, being damaged. Nothing outside the norm truly ever escapes judgement, especially from strangers. Detailing one's medical history and personal problems can be raw, embarrassing, painful and simply a challenge. This is all especially true if you want to do more than be simply self-referential and self-absorbed. I am modest enough to accept that my story is my story but I also believe that talking about your own story in a sufficiently open manner can spread some light, however dim, on what I have learned about what it means to be.


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