One particularly vivid image for me from last Saturday’s rally was a guy using his prosthetic leg to give a young girl a boost into a tree on the Mall so she could see better. TPM Reader CT emailed us about it. I posted the email on Sunday.
Yesterday TPM Reader JZ sent me a message on Facebook to say he was FB friends with the guy. JZ agreed to put us in touch, and I’ve emailed back and forth with the good Samaritan, whose name is Alan. Here’s his account:
This is how it happened (because believe it or not, I do not do this for strangers every day).
Several friends and I had managed to park ourselves under a tree in front of the West Wing of the National Art Gallery for maybe twenty minutes when we looked around. I saw a young girl (Liz, as I later learned) attempting to scale the bark. I was a decent climber in my bipedal years, and know the difficulties of handholds, toeholds, and flaky surfaces. So at first I wished her well and thought no more of it. After all, there was much to see and hear, and I had–personifying the urgency of sanity’s restoration–worn only shorts and a t-shirt.
Liz was held up, through no fault of her own. The bark was uncooperative, supporting hands could only stretch out for so long, and she would have benefited from being just a little bit taller.
I don’t know what I was thinking. I guess Liz’s tenacity bought enough time to chase the thought “what can this metal thing do if it’s pointed up instead of down?” to its logical conclusion. Amputees are often faced with what they cannot do (I don’t climb much anymore). Yet in this situation, who else there could actually physically spare up to a foot and a half? Call it inspiration; call it Providence; call it dehydration. In my defense, I did not grow up to the echoes of my parents shouting, “your leg is not a tool!” There is no book or wise old man on being an amputee.
I lost my leg five and a half years ago to osteosarcoma, a pernicious cancer/supreme sonofabitch with a penchant for the 10-30 demographic. It was a bitter bargain for a shot at a real future. In the years since, my prosthesis has been many things. It has been a spectacle for Jordanian children on the beach in Aqaba, a first class ticket to extra screening at the airport, a source of wisdom and perspective, and a guarantor of good parking.
Prior to Saturday, it has never served someone else better than me. It was always possible, but never probable. So maybe it was inevitable. Liz looked very happy when she got up there, and her family was very nice to us. On a day dedicated to calling out for the restoration of sanity, common sense and common decency, sometimes all that’s needed is a little boost.
PS: Liz’s Mom (she and I swapped emails afterwards) tracked down this video. You can kind of see it (towards the middle of the screen, to the right of the tree).
Late Update: A better video here.
