Welcome to Holland

I know what you’re thinking.

“Welcome to Holland? I thought this was an RV blog. Are they traveling internationally now?”

Bear with me for a paragraph or two and you’ll understand.

A month ago a friend pulled me aside to say “you really need to make a new blog post. There are people who want to know what happened to you.” I knew what she meant. I’ve written about the accident and eulogized both our RV and our red dog Ryder, but I haven’t put into words how these events affected me and Ben. Then I recalled a story I’d read years ago.

In 1987 Emily Perl Kingsley wrote an allegory titled “Holland.” It was intended to give parents whose baby was born with a disability a framework for understanding their feelings by likening a pregnancy to preparing for the trip of a lifetime to Italy. One spends countless hours researching and planning a trip to Italy, learning the culture and language, choosing places to visit and sights to see. You board the plane you think is bound for Italy and it lands in—Holland. After spending all your time learning how to navigate Italy you find yourself dumped in a country you know nothing about. You are disoriented but you have no choice but to adapt as best you can. Kingsley’s story illustrates the disorientation parents feel when their child is born with a disability.

Last September we were headed to Wisconsin, but we wound up in Holland. Overnight our lives changed in ways we couldn’t imagine. I’m not totally clueless about being disabled, at least that’s what I told myself. I’ve worked with and for people with disabilities for decades, so I thought I was prepared. I came to realize that absent real-life experience my map to “Holland” was woefully incomplete. I have much to learn about doing life as a person with a disability.

I’m frequently asked if we plan to stop traveling. When I answer that we have already replaced the RV, I can count on hearing variations on one of two judgments. One is in the category of “do you have rocks in your head?” The second is “atta girl, you get right back on the horse that threw you.” I guess it’s human nature to ignore the inherent risk in getting out of bed each morning until something bad happens to someone else. Then you find yourself looking over your shoulder until your mind resets to its default mode of “I’m safe.” Lots of people experience catastrophic things while they are doing something they enjoy, whether it’s mountain climbing or driving to church. Let’s be real—if we started every day by contemplating the dangers of moving about in the world very few of us would poke our noses out our front doors.

So yes, we have a new (new to us) RV and we intend to hit the road when I’m sufficiently recovered. I’m going to have to figure out how to live life as an amputee at home and, when its time, on the road. For the record, I haven’t mastered home just yet, and as for the RV—I don’t know what to expect. I’m not alone on this journey; Ben has been a steadfast partner. His life is altered as much as mine. We get two trips to Holland on one experience.

Another thing you may have noticed is that this blog is changing. It’s inevitable because its author is changing. Not long before the accident I celebrated my 70th trip around the sun. I found myself contemplating the notion that this could be my last decade. Then I got a clear message that there was more to do…and I think it may take longer than a mere 10 years. Whatever happens, you know I’ll write about it–and thanks for coming along with me.

Onward!