Walking with Toni
It was a special evening for everyone. We were all dressed up in our best clothes for the annual fundraising dinner for Tel-Hi, the San Francisco neighborhood center that does so much good for so many people, and the Center had arranged a photographer at the entrance to take a photo of everyone who attended.
I stood outside greeting people and Toni sat next to me for quite awhile, taking in the steady stream of people who marched by. She was dressed up, too, including silver shoes that I hadn’t seen before, and she sat proudly in her electric scooter, taking in the event.
I’ve known Toni for a couple of years, and I’ve been very impressed with her! The scooter is a result of polio, which she had as a teenager, and she has been in one ever since. She can pull herself up and get around in her kitchen, but walking more than a few steps is beyond her ability.
Toni hasn’t let her disability hold her back, and she has never used it as an excuse. She has led a full and interesting life; having been (among other things) a teacher, minister, executive director, poet, activist, and many other roles that she hasn’t yet told me about. Despite being in her 70’s (and in a wheelchair), she is very active in all things San Francisco, and she rarely misses a poetry reading, book sale, concert, or political rally. She is well-read and well-informed, and is up-to-date on every news and political event. Her politics are a little left-wing for me, but I respect her knowledge and her convictions.
As the evening went on and Toni and I watched the dinner attendees pose for their photos, a lady asked Toni to have her photo taken with her. She happily obliged and rolled her scooter over to where the photos were being taken. After rolling into position, Toni changed her mind and decided she didn’t want to be in her chair in the photo, so she rolled off to the side. She indicated that she wanted me to come over to where she was sitting, and when I did she said she wanted my help to walk back into the photo area. I bent down so she could put her arm around my shoulder, and I helped her stand up. She steadied herself, and we took one small step. She hesitated for a minute and then took another step. She smiled, although I could tell the effort was taking a lot out of her, and she took another step. Now we were close, and the woman waiting for us encouraged her. “That’s it, Toni, just a few more steps.” She groaned a little, softly, and took another step, and then another. Finally, we were in position. She took her arm off my shoulder, grabbed my arm and the lady’s arm next to her and smiled. The camera clicked once, then again, and we were done. Toni put her arm back around my shoulder, thanked the person who had asked for her photo, and we made our way back to her scooter. She was relieved when she was finally settled back in her chair, and she thanked me.
I was so caught up in the moment that it took a while for me to realize what had just happened. I had a chance to help Toni, a lady who doesn’t ask for help very often. But more importantly, I had been given an opportunity that will live with me the rest of my life — I had a chance to walk with Toni.
I’ve known Toni for a couple of years, and I’ve been very impressed with her! The scooter is a result of polio, which she had as a teenager, and she has been in one ever since. She can pull herself up and get around in her kitchen, but walking more than a few steps is beyond her ability.
Toni hasn’t let her disability hold her back, and she has never used it as an excuse. She has led a full and interesting life; having been (among other things) a teacher, minister, executive director, poet, activist, and many other roles that she hasn’t yet told me about. Despite being in her 70’s (and in a wheelchair), she is very active in all things San Francisco, and she rarely misses a poetry reading, book sale, concert, or political rally. She is well-read and well-informed, and is up-to-date on every news and political event. Her politics are a little left-wing for me, but I respect her knowledge and her convictions.
As the evening went on and Toni and I watched the dinner attendees pose for their photos, a lady asked Toni to have her photo taken with her. She happily obliged and rolled her scooter over to where the photos were being taken. After rolling into position, Toni changed her mind and decided she didn’t want to be in her chair in the photo, so she rolled off to the side. She indicated that she wanted me to come over to where she was sitting, and when I did she said she wanted my help to walk back into the photo area. I bent down so she could put her arm around my shoulder, and I helped her stand up. She steadied herself, and we took one small step. She hesitated for a minute and then took another step. She smiled, although I could tell the effort was taking a lot out of her, and she took another step. Now we were close, and the woman waiting for us encouraged her. “That’s it, Toni, just a few more steps.” She groaned a little, softly, and took another step, and then another. Finally, we were in position. She took her arm off my shoulder, grabbed my arm and the lady’s arm next to her and smiled. The camera clicked once, then again, and we were done. Toni put her arm back around my shoulder, thanked the person who had asked for her photo, and we made our way back to her scooter. She was relieved when she was finally settled back in her chair, and she thanked me.
I was so caught up in the moment that it took a while for me to realize what had just happened. I had a chance to help Toni, a lady who doesn’t ask for help very often. But more importantly, I had been given an opportunity that will live with me the rest of my life — I had a chance to walk with Toni.
