Southern Comfort

I was raised in Denton, TX, much to my chagrin. I didn't have much choice, really, as I was not even two when my father took a position as professor of organ at the then North Texas State University (now called University of North Texas). So, the family packed up and we moved from Tucson, Az. (I was born in nearby Mesa) and for the next twenty-eight years or so I had to deal with bigotry, racial inequality and conservative political and religious intolerance. Fortunately, my parents were die-hard liberals, as was the church to which they were members and the fact that Denton, TX had two well known universities huddled amongst its more entrenched conservative population made my life considerably easier.

I also had a handful of really great friends, who, at least when younger, were liberal like myself and believed in modernity instead of the larger communities desire to return the town of Denton to the Antebellum South. As liberal as these friends were I still didn't trust them enough to share with them the full extent of my disabilities. Sure, they all knew about Matt's "hip problem," but it was something from my childhood and was not part of my present...at least that's what I wanted them to believe. As a result of my not wanting my friends to know I was "different" and my family believing my initial "corrective" hip surgery at age 10 had remedied my disabilities, I learned very early on not to ask for anyone's assistance, let alone trust anyone to give me help when I needed it most.

One of the positive and sometimes irritating characteristics of Southern culture is "neighborliness." Folks got into other folks business. If you weren't a good neighbor, didn't know what was happening to the folks in your town, you weren't being a good Southerner. Since I was trying to keep even my closest friends from knowing my secret, I came to resent the idea of neighborliness and asking for help from the community. When you see as much racism and intolerance as you do growing up in the South, you learn quickly that judgment can result in terrible consequences. I wanted nothing more than to get away from Southerners and anyone getting into my business. That was one of my reasons for moving to Los Angeles.

Inevitably once I realized my disabilities were beyond my own ability to control and that I would indeed need to ask for help I found it next to impossible to ask even my own girlfriend to do what had once been the simplest of tasks for me. When she would insist I not do something that was now painful I found myself momentarily angry and resentful, but her love and generosity made it clear that it was not only for my benefit but for hers that she be able to do whatever it was that need to be done. By the way, my girlfriend Laura is a native Texan. Believe me, the irony of my moving 1500 miles away from Texas only to return on a visit and meet the love of my life in Irving, Texas is not lost on me. Laura is a Southern Lady through and through - and I mean that in the best sense of the word! She is as liberal as I am, but she is strong, independent and very supportive. She believes in family beyond blood and loves unconditionally. She has taught me that I can ask for help and not be judged because I can't do things I once could.

Today, the test of whether I could ask for help or not was put to the test. Having taken some pain medication prior to leaving my apartment on a simple walk to drop off the rent check and return a rented video, I carelessly took the wrong set of keys and locked myself out of the apartment. I found it more and more difficult to remember certain things and usually it is the routine things I forget such as where I left my wallet or keys unless I put them in exactly the same place or really concentrate on what I'm doing when I quickly grab up the apartment keys. When I returned and found myself locked out I was so pissed.

Since I was going to have to ask for help from one of my neighbors to contact the manager to get me inside my apartment, I was going to have to test my own prejudice against neighborliness. Fortunately I have some very nice neighbors and two of them, Keith and Cindy, were the first I though of. Also fortunate was that they were home. They were more than happy to help and I was able to contact the manager to get be back inside. While waiting for the manager to arrive I had a great chat with Keith and Cindy and found out that Keith is native of Louisiana. Like Laura, Keith embodies the best of a liberal Southerner. His sense of neighborliness and community made him both warm and welcoming. Cindy, too, being a native of Los Angeles was very kind and made me feel welcome while waiting.

What had started out as a humiliating incident based on my carelessness and lack of attention due to my chronic pain turned into a positive lesson in asking for help. I have no doubt that as my disabilities continue to affect my capabilities and test my patience I will be challenged to ask for help from friends, family and neighbors. I only hope I will continue to accept the challenge and change that old programming which says, "Keep your secret to yourself. Show no one you are weak or incapable." Without a doubt, whether it be from a Southerner or from any other person, I will not let the prejudice I saw as a child or let my own prejudices keep me from asking.