Today while wandering the grounds of the Happiest Place on Earth, my gf and I encountered something that was decidedly unhappy: disability. I've always had a soft spot in my heart for people with disabilities: I worked at camps with disabilities, I've talked to people with disabilities, I've volunteered and try to meet as many as I can. Spinal bifida is the one that I've dealt with the most: it's one of the most apparent diseases in its devastating effect of rendering people to wheelchairs or not being able to stand up straight. Of course there's all kinds of other disabilities, but some make me cringe more than others, seeing what others have to suffer through while I enjoy walking normally, breathing normally, and basically everything normally while bragging about playing dodgeball multiple times a week and participating in marathons. I've never grow up with any relatives with disabilities, never had any myself, never even broken a bone or had to rest from an injury or anything, so I'm really susceptible to guilt of being more privileged but not even appreciating it. (There's a Chinese idiom called "living in good fortune but not knowing it.") I definitely feel that way everytime I bump into anyone with disabilities.
But alas, guilt is not enough. I always wonder what I can do to help people with disabilities. Do our tax dollars go towards helping the disabled and is it enough? Do donations go towards that and is it enough? Am I giving enough? What else can I do? Talk to people with disabilities? It seems like a delicate balance to offer support and condolence without seeming apologetic or worse, superior to them, condescending. I always wonder how I'd feel if I lived in a society where others were fine and healthy but I carried a life-long disability. Would I be strong enough like many of the disabled and rise above, and join things like the Paralympics and run marathons anyway? I don't think I'd be strong enough, and I'm pretty sure I'd be jealous of people who were "better" than me all the time and feeling sorry for myself. I resolve to find more opportunities and more ways this year and beyond to help those with disabilities, and not just with dollars, although that does seem like something everyone would need to help.
Btw, going to Disneyland isn't all that it's cracked up to be for me anymore: gone are the days of novelty and wide-eyedness as a kid, the nostalgic feeling of turkey legs and watching water performances and fireworks thinking this was the coolest place on earth with all the cool funky cartoon characters I wanted to be with. Now I see Disneyland for what it is: a highly commercialized endeavor that forces parents to spend their money in an effort to make their kids happy. I joked to my gf that it is the "Happiest Place on earth".....for the people who run the place, the corporate machine. Even the people who work there don't necessarily think it's the happiest place on earth, according to things I've heard inside the organization. In a world that's full of evil, problems, maladies, and tough decisions, Disneyland flies in the face of that reality and sort of makes us pretend it's not there, sweeping worldly problems under the rug for a hefty $99 price tag for adults (doesn't matter if you come at 8AM or 8PM, it's the same price for one day). If one is to grow up and do something serious to help the world (such as deal with disabilities or help society cope with people with disabilities), Disneyland is the opposite of the solution. Or maybe I'm just upset I paid $18 for parking at 7PM just to find out the fireworks show was cancelled.
Fantasize on,
Robert Yan
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