From Loui Lord Nelson

When I began my studies at the Beach Center in 1999 the office space I was placed in had previously been the space for the copier and other support equipment. The door that led directly to the hall from that room had traditionally remained closed. As a self-described, high energy morning person, I would arrive at the Beach Center around 6:30 each morning to begin my work and studying. Another reason for arriving early was my love for the stillness of morning. The solitude. The peace. But since I’m not an isolationist, I decided to leave the hallway door open 2 or 3 inches. This provided a sign that I was in the office but not entirely accessible for conversation.

On that first day I settled into my seat, zoned in on my work, tea cup in hand, when BAM!!!!!, my office door was pulled abruptly shut. My legs shot out under the desk, my back pushed against my chair and my tea spilled down my front. In the milliseconds of my recovery I heard, a giggle, then “Good morning L-L-L-Loui.” That was Jay’s unique way of saying my name.

Now, did I learn a lesson after this first day? Like all mammals, I needed repetition and JT gladly offered to me that same scenario every day of that academic year. I eventually learned to listen for his voice when he exited the elevators and prepare. You could always hear him saying, “Good morning” – it didn’t matter if anyone was there to hear it, he just loved saying it. I’d steal myself and put down the tea. I thought closing the door would alter his need to shut my door. Nope! Jay would simply open the door, giggle, and then, BAM!!!, shut it again with “Good morning L-L-L-Loui.”

Having been raised to never slam doors, I came to the Beach Center loathing that sound and action. But Mr. JT forced me to move from my strongly held opinion that door slamming meant uncontrolled anger to recognizing (a) his need for sameness (certain doors must be closed, especially those which are partially open), and, more importantly, (b) his desire for human connection (“Good morning, L-L-L-Loui”). He pushed me to reconsider an opinion that did not serve me. Why would I describe myself as “does not prefer the slamming of doors?” Why do we limit ourselves through negative descriptors?

If, according to mass thinking, Jay lived in a box of disability and I lived in a box of neuro-typical and rarely shall the two truly mix, then Jay achieved the extraordinary by reaching out of his box because he pulled me out of mine.

Loui
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Loui Lord Nelson, Ph.D.
RAISE, Inc
317-507-9167