a history of me

I was shocked and heartbroken to learn of the death of Christopher Reeve. After he lost so much in that accident almost ten years ago, he wouldn't give up or go away. He fought so fucking hard to walk again that other cripples actually discouraged him, telling him to dedicate himself to living with paralysis rather than hoping for a cure. Can you imagine that, having disabled people reprove you for hoping too much?

He vowed to walk again, and in recent years I heard that he had actually regained feeling in some parts of his body, even moving a finger. There was that "controversial" Super Bowl commercial, where a little special effects showed him walking up to a podium for an award. I thought he was going to make it, but living in his condition for so long was too much, apparently.

It's almost funny to think about Christopher Reeve's death in contrast to last week's passing of Rodney Dangerfield. Less than a week after Rodney died, a bigger and more shocking death occurs, cutting short his "place in the sun," so to speak. Even in death, Rodney has a dearth of respect, although I thought the skit on Saturday Night Live this week was a nice tribute.

This is not a good way to start the week. Thankfully I made it to my appointments today before learning of this news, or I would have too vexed to concentrate. And I still have a paper to write.

Fuck.