Optimism

My son William rang this morning and suggested the Grand Final this year will be a repeat of last year with Geelong playing St Kilda.  He asked me if I agreed.  I replied "No, I was optimistic and believe Collingwood will beat Geelong and make it to the Grand Final."  I wondered if William, as a Collingwood supporter of about two years, had somehow inherited a genetically encoded long suffering Magpie barrackers' pessimism, learnt after many final and grand final disappointments of seasons past.  As a dad, it's almost my responsibility to be optimistic to sons who look to me for some sort of example, yet when it's left to my own personal perspective, pessimism is a 'safer' option - that way hopes don't get dashed.  At the end of our phone call, William asked me what optimism meant and I explained how it represents positive hope.  Thinking about this later, 'hope' is what you have to have if you follow any sporting team.

Men on crutches and taxis

When I trained to be a cab driver in 1989, most of the advice was common sense.  However one piece of wisdom was a total surprise.  Without a hint of equivocation, my trainer said "Be very careful when a passenger approaches your taxi on crutches".  The message was avoid these passengers if you possibly can.

Before being told to be wary of those on crutches, I'd had a sympathetic view of the limping lame bravely making their incommoded way between points A & B.  But thinking about the warning it made sense.  Crutches mean the person they are supporting is uncomfortable.  Getting in and out of the cab with crutches is difficult.  Retrieving the crutches at journey's end is awkward.  Having had an accident in the first place, that lead to crutches, is characteristic of a risk taker, who after the accident finds himself with his mobility limited causing frustration.  And being out and about in need of a cab, but with limited ability to manage movement, indicates denial or at the least non acceptance of the inability to walk.

The cab driver's greatest vulnerability to those with crutches is when they are both seated.  For here, driver and passenger are on close and almost equal combative terms, but with the passenger having two free hands, while the cabbie's upper limbs are occupied with a myriad of tasks.  Ill fitting crutches only make things worse: if they are too short the lame have to drag their leg and if they are too long the afflicted is forced to almost stilt walk.  Unlike the wheelchair bound, a cabbie should never help the man with crutches into his seat in the cab.  Show unending patience, make it clear you are sliding the seat back as far as it will go and most importantly never turn the meter on till the infirm passenger is belted in and ready to go.  But sometimes all this is not enough and you will still be blamed for every bump in the road.

Journey's end is the time to render assistance, taking the crutches from the back seat and insouciantly offering them to the hopping man, as he resumes his supported upright convalescent mode of self locomotion.

But when they are drunk, those on crutches are the worst passenger, who should only be transported in a horizontal state, by some sort of combination of hearse and ambulance.