My son is 16 . He has cerebral palsy. He is a normal teen. Loves video games, hockey and baseball. Love being outside. He is pretty much confined to a wheelchair. Has a walker which he uses a bit but can’t stand for long periods. He used to walk and run even played a season of soccer when he was in the single digits. When he turned 10 his ball socket in his hip started wearing away . At first it was thought he was having trouble walking because of a fall he took . But over the course of maybe 6 months it became worse and we found out about the hip. He was an avid bike rider and misses that .He would love nothing more in the world then to be able to ride a bike again. Earlier this year we attended a bike lending event . Unfortunately non of the bikes were suitable . The problem is because of his hip ball joint being eroded down it makes it hard to peddle straight up and down. Also, the only suitable bike sits to high making it unstable for him as it was way to tall . This bike you see pictured below was a perfect fit , not tall, peddles positioned far enough in front for comfort and ease and a support bar to hold his right leg in place so it doesn’t slip off in an uncomfortable position. The only problem is the bike is not a loaner and is only available to purchase. It is unattainable for us . This bike is everything Jared dreams of . Would you please consider helping him attain his dream of riding a bike again. Thank you. -Cynthia
There is something about that first cup of coffee. Today mine came at almost four in the afternoon. I spent most of my day watching season five of Grey’s An
atomy so now here I sit with a cup.
For myself it’s the smell of a pot brewing . If I was were to be honest my coffee is occasionally not the best. I prefer a little on the strong side. Most people I know don’t. So to me a weaker cup is mediocre at best. I guess that makes me a Starbucks girl in a Tim Horton world. I prefer my coffee to come from Guatemala.
There was once many years ago when I was pregnant with the youngest that the taste of coffee made me ill. I would brew a cup worth anyway just to smell it. Almost sixteen years later that child isn’t much of a coffee lover.
Once at a clothing exchange I was put in charge of making coffee. That is when I learned that making coffee for the masses meant that I had to tailor it for everyones pallets. Not just mine. Trail and error. I have had friends add water to my coffee. I must add here that it is not strong that a spoon would stick straight up. Most people though drink it.
There was a time I wouldn’t drink the stuff . At all. When I started I needed to add sugar. You must know someone who is that person who adds three or more teaspoons to a cup. That was me. Now I drink it with just cream and not the sweetened coffee creamers . Occasionally black because I can’t drink milk with it. Just cream the 18 percent kind. Well back to enjoying my cuppa java.
This morning I looked out the window and down at the street life going on ,no longer enjoying the peacefulness of the pastoral life. I have transplanted from the country that I have had a love/hate relationship with to the city . This neighbourhood is where you find your homeless population. How did I get to be here?
For a while now the move to the city has been on our minds , you see the house we lived in has encountered many problems over the years and everything was/is going from bad to worst .People always hire a house inspector . We did not. Now we are paying the price. That’s all I will say on the matter.
Because my son has a disability finding proper accommodations was a challenge. Giving my limited income it was twice the hardship. After three long months of waiting we got this apartment downtown.When I first looked at it , I couldn’t imagine myself in it as going from house to apartment was a shock. My boy could though was different , the only thing he saw was the WALK-IN SHOWER ,that sold him. All other places were too small for a wheelchair or too expensive and were not for disabled people.
Looking out my windows I see either the downtown skyscrapers or the bottle depot where the unfortunate bring in there bottles and sometimes share there full bottles with each other. Other times I see them on the steps involved in drug activity. When it was warmer a few would often sleep on the steps of the depot. Eighteen or nineteen years years back we moved a few blocks from here into an older house with tons of character, built in the early 1900’s ( just my guess). The first night we had moved in a knock at the back door revealed a man and a woman who asked if they could go through the garbage that the landlord had in the back yard awaiting a trip to the garbage. I said okay and they thanked me. That was weird . Over the months our house became a refuge for a few of the neighbourhood kids. One was a girl named Heather whose family lived behind us ,she always wanted to come over and hang out with me . She was nine when I last saw her on her birthday. Over the years I often wondered how those kids were. A few years ago I was stunned to see in the news that she had been killed at the lrt station. The sadness I felt and the thoughts I had that I should have tried to contact her somehow like I wanted. She still looked the same as I remembered. My boys went to school on Jasper ave but that is a WHOLE other topic for discussion . I didn’t mind the area. Still don’t. To be honest though I was at first thinking noooooo. I envisioned different neighbourhoods to live in. This is great though a few blocks and there is the downtown library, churchhill, a scenic view of the river and so much more. m The area we live is called The Quarters.
I miss: the sunsets and sunrises ; My Christmas tree outside; my dogs ; the peacefulness; birds singing; my fireplace.
Do not miss the long drive to town and Especially not the winter roads.