“Please don’t be afraid of me”, the man said when I was seven or so and sitting on the ‘stoop’ of the building that my family and I lived in on 83rd street in Manhattan. I was terrified. He had a hard time getting the words out; his body twisted in spasms as he walked towards me. That man, named Joe, lived in our neighborhood. He was known to my family, having lived there with his wife in a small apartment. He worked as an accountant, I was later told by my uncle who knew him before some neuromuscular disease took hold of him. Disease took everything Joe had; yet he kept going. The kids would shriek as his contortions made the mere act of his walking down the block an agony. As he walked away from me that day, my uncle explained that Joe was sick, his wife had left and he was trying to manage as best as he could. I remember many of our neighbors giving Joe a dollar or two. Sometime later, I remember being told that Joe lost his apartment. He still stayed in the neighborhood. The local deli guys and the bar on the corner would let him wash up at thier businesses.
“Please don’t be afraid of me”…….
I don’t know what ever happened to Joe, nor do I know why God allowed his life to be so hard. I don’t even know why he popped into my mind yesterday. There is a form of prejudice in our society that surrounds disability — a discomfort, a subtle fear of that which is different and unfamiliar. It manifests as pity, avoidance or mockery. When we see someone with a profound disability, a fleeting thought occurs: “What if that were me?” from which we quickly turn with a shudder.
Naturally, many people, especially young people, tend to avoid those who make us feel uncomfortable or guilty. Not knowing how to act or respond to someone very different can be scary, especially for a young person. I glad that some adult took the time to explain to a seven year old what it was he was seeing and that Joe didn’t need to be feared. I wish I could have done something more for Joe. I wish the other kids didn’t run away when he rounded the corner. I thank my uncle for taking the time to explain to me what I was seeing and I hope that Joe is now at peace.
The Valley Viewpoint 