Monthly Archives: July 2012

Am I Stubborn Or Just Singular Focused?

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A few weeks ago I wrote, “I don’t think I’m very stubborn.”

Yeah…I take that back.

This week I noticed a slow leak in the toilet in my kids’ bathroom.  Upon first glance, it just looked like one of the gaskets had given out.  The whole system was old, so I decided I’d just replace it all this weekend.  Fun Saturday project, right?  Heck, maybe I’ll even make a time-lapse video of the repair for the blog!

I got the parts and tools and set the camera up and away I went.  Everything went smoothly for approximately three minutes.  Then, as I started trying to loosen one of the nuts from the bolt that held the tank to the bowl, I noticed the whole thing kept spinning.  This is a nightmare for a person with one hand.  Two-handers can use one hand to hold the top of the bolt steady with a screwdriver and then work on the nut with their other hand.  I can’t.  So, I just kept spinning it and spinning it, getting more and more frustrated.

At this point, if I was smart, I would have stopped.  Of course I didn’t.  I mean, the video was running and I knew my wife wanted it done and I hate being defeated.  Seriously, ask my wife how I get with these projects. Wait…I take that back.  Don’t ask her.  It got to the point where I had stripped both bolts that I needed to remove, so…ugh, this is so embarrassing…I just grabbed my vice-grips and started torquing them back and forth, hoping to snap them in half.  One of them actually did, but the other one didn’t.  It really didn’t.  In fact, it so didn’t, it busted a hole through the tank.  You can imagine my joyous response.

Well, I was not giving-up.  I went back to the hardware store (we are now two hours into the project) and got a hacksaw (to remove the bolt) and a large rubber washer which would hopefully cover the hole.  I went ahead and put all the new hardware in and hoped for the best.  I turned the water back on and as the tank filled…it also started to leak.  Everywhere.  So, there I stood, sopping wet with sweat, my back and hand killing me, garbage and water everywhere, frustrated beyond belief.  Three hours for nothing.  And I still had to clean all this crap up.  And buy a new tank and do it all over again!

At least a had a cool shirt on.

Stubborn.

Being stubborn can be a blessing and a curse, I suppose.  In this case it seems like a curse.  I wasted a good portion of my day, when I could have stopped as soon as I realized it wasn’t going to work and tried again when I had some help.  That’s not really my gig, though.  I think of it as being “singular focused” or determined or competitive.  “THIS TOILET WILL NOT DEFEAT ME!” I said (before cursing it).

I need to be smart about it, though.  I’m sure a lot of you can relate.  I’m sure it’s naturally ingrained in me to prove that I can do things because of my limb-difference, but there are times I need to be less stubborn and more wise.  There are times I need to ask for help, even if it feels like defeat.

And as I write that, perhaps that’s where the lesson lies.  Maybe I didn’t waste three hours of my day breaking my toilet and my back.  Maybe it was to teach me that it’s ok to ask for help when I need it.  In fact, it’s more than ok; it’s necessary sometimes.  And when we put aside our stubbornness and get the help we need, things tend to work a lot better.

And even though my toilet is still broken, that lesson’s worth three hours.

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By the way…here’s the video:

Amazing Stories Can Begin In Unexpected Places

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There’s a Culver’s restaurant two blocks from my house.

Without trying to sound overly dramatic, that’s where my life changed forever.

And I’m not referring to a fried cheese-curd experience.

In late 2010, I was eating dinner by myself (and loving it because I’m an introvert), when I noticed a little boy who had an arm just like mine.  “Cool,” I smiled to myself.  As I finished my meal and headed toward the door, his mom came running.  Slightly out of breath, she presented her son to me.  I remember it being as awkward as that sentence sounds.  He was wearing a Tigers shirt, so I asked if he played ball.  He did.  He explained that he didn’t have a favorite position, but that he played them all.  After a minute we said our “nice to meet yous” and headed toward our cars.

I remember feeling sad as I walked away.  The mom clearly loved her son, but she seemed worried.  It was like she was saying, “Look, son, he’s like you!”  I wanted to give them a hug and tell them everything was going to be fine.  I just wanted to help them.  And that was the very first time that I thought I could be helpful in that way.  Helping amputees and their families, I mean.  The truth is, I hardly ever used to see amputees.  Like, ever.  I honestly never even knew I was an amputee until I broke my short arm in 2008.  To me, the word implies a cutting off.  Like, you get run over by a truck and they amputate your leg.  I was born this way, so I never viewed myself as one.  Now I know the truth, which is that I’m a congenital amputee.

After that experience, I wrote a piece for RelevantMagazine.com called Finding – And Being – Good Community.  It is the very beginning of LivingOneHanded.com, even before I had the name.  In fact it wasn’t until nearly a year later that I launched the blog.  But, that experience was the crucible for everything I’m doing now.

Which brings me to the other night.

On a Thursday night, in the same Culver’s where it all began, I met with Luke and his mom, Jane.  Luke is going into 6th grade, likes to read and play soccer, and his right arm ends at his elbow.  Oh, and he often rides his bike to the Culver’s that is (did I mention this before?) TWO BLOCKS FROM MY HOUSE.  One day he saw my business card on the board there and took it home.  Turns out, our families live less than five minutes from each other.  Coincidences are so awesome.

Luke and I got sundaes and the three of us talked about life with one arm.  Luke told me about his bike (of which I’m totally jealous) and the fun he had at camp recently.  We talked about how it’s a little uncomfortable when you play games at school where you have to hold hands.  “But, if it’s someone I don’t know very well, I just tell them they can grab my shoulder,” Luke said.  His solution caught Jane off-guard.  She was so proud; it was adorable.

Jane told me about Luke’s great friends and also her concerns for him.  “Trust me, you have nothing to worry about,” I told her.  And I believe that whole-heartedly.  Luke is intelligent, polite, confident and funny.  I didn’t say this at the time, but I think Jane’s biggest worry will be keeping the girls at bay!

After a while, we moseyed out to head home.  We gave hugs, took a picture and promised to keep in touch.  As I got into my car, I’ll be honest…I was on cloud nine.  The visit was even better than I had hoped for.  And prayed for.  On the way there I had prayed that I’d have the right words to say, that we’d have a good time, and that it’d be encouraging.  I’m humbled that I get to be a part of Luke and Jane’s story.  It’s an honor.

Luke and me and the LOH-mobile.

What’s so exciting about this “circle of life” event, is that I know it’s still just the beginning.  I’m so excited to be a part of this journey LOH has me on and I can’t wait to see where it goes next.

And I encourage you to be on the lookout in your own life.  Amazing stories can begin anywhere.

Even at a family burger joint.

I’d love if you shared your story with us, particularly if it had an unexpected beginning!

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What Gets You Flustered?

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I have a wallet, but I rarely use it.

I get George Costanza Syndrome when I use a wallet.

I usually just cram everything in my pocket.  Right now, for instance, I have random receipts, some Chapstick, my business card case, my debit card, five pieces of folded-up paper with lists on them and a few other things in there.

But, whether I have a wallet or my pocket full o’ crap, the checkout line at any retailer is one place I get flustered consistently.

It’s just one of those places where my difference is spot-lighted.  Spot-lit?  Whatever.  I’m standing there, the cashier tells me how much it is, and then I have to pay them.  If I have cash in my wallet, I tuck it between my short arm and chest and fumble around to remove the bills.  If my method of payment is in my pocket full o’ crap, I either have to dig around in there or pull everything out and put it on the counter to sift through.

I’m sure nobody else even cares, but for some reason I put a lot of pressure on myself in that situation.  Especially if there’s a line behind me.  Everybody is waiting for the one-handed guy to finish his transaction and God forbid if I should drop something…how embarrassing!

The truth is, I know there are some easy fixes to this.  I could always keep my debit card in my back pocket.  Problem solved.  The only thing is, I’ll never remember to do that.  Never.  I could also just relax.  Nobody cares how nimble I am at paying for my goods…except me!

Where’s the fun in that, though?

The truth is, we all get flustered from time to time, right?  It’s a part of life.  If anything, it builds character.  It keeps us humble.  It teaches us about vulnerability.  We learn from it.

So, the next time you get flustered, take a deep breath, let it out slowly, and smile.

You’re not alone.

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I Am Not One-Armed

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I am not a “one-armed” anything.

A recent article about a limb-different boy in Texas winning his events at a swim-meet has people talking about the mis-use of the term “one-armed.”  Ben Ramirez clearly has two arms, but is missing part of one; like me.

The Man, The Myth, The Legend – Ben Ramirez

So, what’s the deal?  Why does the media default to “one-armed” when there’s any kind of arm limb-difference?  Jim Abbott even spoke to the phenomenon in his book, Imperfect.  Jim has nearly two full arms, but a malformed left hand, and still he was referred to as a “one-armed pitcher.”

“One-Armed” Olympic Champion Pitcher, Jim Abbott

In fact, I very deliberately chose the domain LivingOneHanded.com because, well…it’s accurate.  I didn’t choose OneArmedAndLovingEht.com or IWishIHadAnotherArmWhichWouldActuallyGiveMeTwoAndAHalfArms.ThatSeemsGreedy.Org because my arm is not really the issue.  Plus, that last one is really long.

And as obvious as it may seem to us that “one-armed” is the wrong term to use, I’m going to be honest with you here and say…I understand it.  I understand it because I’m still getting used to all the terms myself.  Eight months ago I had never heard the term “limb-different.”  Never.  In my whole life.  When I started visiting message boards and different online groups, it was like learning a foreign language.  LBE?  RBK?  I’ve learned that those mean Left Below Elbow and Right Below Knee (amputees).  (I bet somebody has a super sweet grid of all these terms somewhere.  I want it.)  Just today, in fact, I got an email from someone who used AK in his note and I had to think hard about what it meant.  Ahh, Above Knee!  And I’m still a novice at all the other terms like Symbrachydactyly.  I just googled that and had to look at it seven times to make sure I spelled it correctly.

It’s a whole different world, this limb-different community.  It’s fun and exciting for me, but there are times I feel lost.  And ignorant.  I am limb-different and can probably tell you less about the science and terms and lifestyle than a ton of the moms around here!  But, I suppose that makes sense.  I grew-up this way and never thought of myself as different, so why would I take the time to learn about it?  My mom, on the other hand (so to speak), probably knows more about it than I do, too.

So, I’m thinking two things.  The first is that we need to be patient.  We need to understand that differences are always a challenge and people generally do their best to treat them with respect and dignity.  That said, it’s also an opportunity for us to teach!  To teach those who are different than we or our kids are how to approach our differences accurately and with respect.  You wouldn’t describe someone with blonde hair as “black-haired” and think it was good enough.  “I mean, hair is hair, right?” you might think.  And you’d be wrong.  And someone would correct you.

I don’t view this as a fight at all.  It’s an opportunity.  Let’s seize the opportunity and learn together.

Also, please don’t buy the domain OneFistOfFury.com.  I’m saving-up for it.

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This Is Why Twitter Rules

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I used to hate Twitter.

Now I love it.

Tweet tweet.

For the longest time I resisted it as “that stupid thing that’s just a Facebook status and nothing else.”  It took me forever to buy-in and even after I did, it took even longer to embrace.  It just seemed trite and useless.  And really, the way a lot of people use it, it is.

But then stuff like this happens.

NAME-DROPPER ALERT.

First, I quipped about the profile picture of the male half of The Civil Wars.  Matthew Mayfield and I had differing opinions of who it actually looks like.  John then replied, which makes me famous, I’m pretty sure.

I noticed a little back-and-forth between super-humans Chris Brogan and Chris Guillebeau.  They were giving the business to a certain unlikeable Canadian band.  I decided to chime in, because, well…that’s what I do.

Twitter is perfect for zingers.  And bad jokes.

To my surprise, I received notification that Mr. Brogan had responded.

https://twitter.com/chrisbrogan/status/225377607099752448

At first I thought he was ridiculing me for forgetting to type “in” before “their PINKY FINGERS.”  But then…say WHAAAAAAAT??!!  Did Chris Brogan just make a ONE-HANDED joke out of my original laugher?

https://twitter.com/chrisbrogan/status/225382586942361601

What have we learned here?

1.  Chris Brogan is the man.

2.  I still make one-handed jokes unintentionally.

3.  Interacting with famous people on the Twitter is super fun.

4.  Twitter is awesome.

These are just funny examples, but Twitter really has enabled me to connect with many of my heroes (resisting…urge…to name drop) and introduced me to even more new friends who share similar passions.

And, for better or for worse, it’s allowed me to share innumerable dumb jokes.

LONG LIVE TWITTER.

Who have you interacted with on Twitter that you never would have been able to otherwise?

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Do You Test Yourself Without Even Knowing It?

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My wife has been asking me to change the fluorescent bulbs in our kitchen for weeks.

When did I choose to do it?

Today.  When nobody else was around.

Of course.

Change us, Ryan!

I’m curious what those who really know me would say, but I don’t think I’m very stubborn.  That said, it seems I choose to test myself on a regular basis.  So, when I got home today, I looked up at that dumb, flickering fixture on the ceiling and decided it was time.  My first concern was the giant glass cover, so I pressed my finger tips to it softly and pushed up ever so gently.  It was plastic.  Hallelujah.  I set that aside and got working on the 48″ bulbs.  I twisted and pulled, twisted and pulled, each time expecting them to shatter.  Thankfully I got them out and only broke one small plastic piece that seemed inconsequential to the whole operation.  Then, as quickly as I started, I put the new bulbs in, the cover back on and voila…let there be light!

It’s not something I consciously choose to do; this self-testing.  I only notice it when I look back on it.  I could always ask for help, but I rarely (if ever) do.  Shortly after changing the light bulbs, for instance, I dumped a 50lb bag of softener salt into our water softener.  I’ve always done it myself even though it’s challenging.  Why?  Because it’s just a part of life.

My bet is that we all test ourselves sometimes.  Usually without even realizing it.  And that’s good.  It means we’re growing.  It means we’re continuing to push our limits.  Sure, sometimes it’s because we’re stubborn or we’re embarrassed, but I think that’s different.  There’s a difference between performing when the pressure’s on and testing your own abilities.

I have two challenges this week:

1.  Look back on the last couple of months and see if there’s an area or two in which you’ve been challenging yourself.  Maybe you haven’t realized it at the time, but looking back you see a trend.  Identify it and own it.

2.  Once you find that area, get intentional.  Maybe it’s wanting to eat better or exercise more.  Maybe it’s wanting to read more or watch less TV.  Whatever it is, make one intentional goal this week.  Something challenging, yet doable.  And then, next week, celebrate the success and choose something else.

Success is fun.  And exciting.  Even doing something as simple(ish) as changing fluorescent bulbs can give you some satisfaction!

Give it a try and let me know how it goes!

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Questions For My Mom

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My mom is awesome.

Vintage photo of mom and me.

To that end, I’m going to be recording a podcast with her soon and I need your help.

I have a bunch of personal questions that I’m curious about, but I’m sure many of you are interested in things that I wouldn’t think to ask.  So…what questions would you ask her?

I’m going to be asking her about when I was born and how that all went down and I have some questions about how she raised me.  How did she instill confidence in me?  How did she deal with people staring?  Was it challenging to teach me how to do things being that she had two hands?

Please leave your questions for my mom in the comments or email them to me through the Contact page.

I can’t tell you how excited I am about this.  I think it’s going to be incredibly helpful.

Thanks for participating and keep an eye out for the podcast!

Ryan

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How to Open A Pack Of Sports Cards With One Hand

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I’ve always loved sports cards.

As a kid, it was all about finding cards of my favorite players.  There weren’t very many brands, so you bought Topps or Donruss and that was about it.  I specifically remember buying a triple-pack of 1987 Topps baseball cards at a Madison Muskies game when I was ten and rifling through them over and over.

Wally Joyner’s 1987 Topps card.

I’ve written before about my Jim Abbott collection and I always collected Robin Yount cards because he was (and still is) my favorite Brewer.  In the early ’90s, though, card collecting became about the “chase cards.”  The inserts.  We started to break open packs, and even entire boxes, without even looking at the “common” cards.  We just wanted the rare ones because they were worth the most.  And there were about a million different brands and styles and sets and…you name it, they made it.  It became so confusing.

The thrill shifted from opening a pack and finding cool cards of the players you liked, to finding a rare card worth hundreds of dollars.  And that makes sense.  I mean, it also explains our obsession with shows like Storage Wars and Pawn Stars and American Pickers.  Even their predecessor, Antiques Roadshow, captures my attention if I’m flipping around.

We all have that fantasy of finding an original Van Gogh at a garage sale or a box full of money tucked away in the attic.  Chances are, though, that’s not going to happen.  But it could…and that’s the allure, right?  I think we need to remember to enjoy the common things in life, though, and then if we’re surprised by something out of the ordinary, it will be that much more rewarding!  Whether that’s a rare baseball card pulled from a fresh pack or an unexpected visit from your wife at lunch, it means so much more when we re-learn to enjoy the common, everyday aspects of life.

Without further ado, here’s how I open packs of sports cards:

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