I had a lovely surprise at work today, being presented with this autographed copy of the new book by Edmund White, an autobiography.
White had been in to work a few days ago and I’d mentioned to a colleague how much I’d enjoyed A Boy’s Own Story (and after that “The Beautiful Room Is Empty”) as a teenager living in a small country town in Northern NSW.
As the book deals with growing up gay, it was a crucial book to read at the age of sixteen or seventeen. I told my colleague who was about to interview White how important the book was for me, and how I’d read half the book in the local “Angus & Robertson” before I’d summoned up the courage to actually purchase it. I also remember in hindsight, the young man behind the counter telling me how much he’d enjoyed reading the book, and how much I’d also enjoy it, without realising what he was “really saying”.
“He’s outside, tell him”, my colleague urged me. “No, he’s heard this before, he wouldn’t care”. After a little urging, my colleague convinced me to go with him to meet White and to tell him the story of how important his book had been in my life, which, nervously, I did.
And that was it, or so I thought. Until today, when my colleague brought in this signed copy of his latest work.
Receiving this touched me in a number of ways: first, that White (who I admired immensely because of these books) could be bothered to do this. Second, that my colleague thought enough or me to either ask for this, or organise this. Nice stuff.
Many shops these days seem to be missing a simple but essential amenity in their changing rooms: chairs.
While this might seem like a minor inconvenience to some, it poses a significant challenge for many shoppers, including older adults, people with disabilities, and anyone who needs to sit down while trying on clothes. Like me!
When I put on pants, I generally need to remove my prosthetic leg. I take off the prosthetic (with attached shoe), pull on the pants, and then put my prosthetic leg back on. Quite often, I don’t need to do that while wearing shorts, but I definitely need to do that while wearing long pants. And that’s why a chair is preferable to hopping around on one leg.
I noticed this “lack of chairs” again today when I called in to my local Vinnies. I was only trying on shirts today, so it wasn’t so much of an issue. But a few months ago at the same store, I wanted to try on pants. And there were no chairs to be found, so one of the assistants had to go and find one out the back. I mentioned this to the guy at the shop and he said he would pass it on to the manager.
In the last few months I can recall a few occasions where I’ve needed to ask for a chair, and the shop assistant has had to go out the back. On one occasion, they didn’t actually have a chair out the back, and had to go to a neighbouring shop to borrow one.
I’m not sure why this change towards a more minimalist look has occurred, or maybe I just haven’t noticed it before this?
I also need to sit down when I go to the swimming pool and need to change in and out of my boardies.
Beyond accessibility, providing seating in changing rooms simply makes good business sense. It allows customers to take their time, try on clothes comfortably, and ultimately make more informed purchasing decisions. A chair can be a small but powerful tool in creating a positive and inclusive shopping experience for everyone.
It’s a small change that can make a big difference in creating a welcoming and accessible environment for everyone.
Post Script
I shared this post with some friends on Facebook, some of whom are amputees, but most of whom are not, and there was a strong response. This is a summary of the responses.
Key points:
Amputees need to sit down to try on pants: This is especially true for above-knee amputees, and even below-knee amputees often find it easier.
Many stores lack seating in changing rooms: This forces amputees to find workarounds, shop online, or give up on trying clothes on altogether.
This is seen as discrimination: Commenters feel that stores should provide seating as a basic accommodation for people with disabilities.
Lack of awareness: Many people don’t realize this is an issue, including shop designers and staff.
Wider problem of inadequate seating: The lack of seating in public spaces is a problem for many people, including the elderly and those with other mobility issues.
Proposed solutions:
Provide seating in changing rooms: This is seen as the most straightforward solution.
Shop online: This is a convenient option for many, but doesn’t allow for trying things on before purchasing.
Bring your own chair: One commenter jokingly suggests bringing a folding camping chair.
I recently made the decision to sponsor another child and received a package in the mail tonight from Childfund Australia, confirming details of my new “sponsor child”, Nancy. For the last six or seven years, I’ve been sponsoring a young boy in Ethiopia, called Nureden. He’s almost twelve now, and although I don’t know him in the way you’re “supposed to know sponsor children” (aside from the occasional updates on his progress), I certainly feel a strong commitment to maintain monthly payments to support him and his family… because I can afford to.
Unfortunately I sense amongst some people in Australia a degree of cynicism about child sponsorship. At the heart of this cynicism are concerns some of the money is wasted along the way and that the idea of child sponsorship is inherently paternalistic. In his song September 10, Eddie Perfect (who I really like), also offers the idea child sponsorship somehow “picks winners” while condemning others. And yes, there are probably other organisations which may do a better job in assisting communities. But even if all those issues are true, I still think it’s great there are schemes like the one offered by Childfund Australia, where people like myself can do something to help families and communities in need. Yes, I know I could hop on a plane and go to Africa and be “hands on”, but I don’t know if I’d be very good at that, and I’m not sure how much help I could actually be.
In the meantime, I have a well paid job and I live in a wealthy country which, by and large, looks after its people well. As I don’t have children of my own (and no, this is not some kind of child replacement therapy for myself), I can afford the $70 per month it costs to provide support to the families of these two young children. I also give money, by the way, to Medicins Sans Frontieres, which I think does a terrific job in providing volunteer medical assistance to people in many needy countries.
In the grand scheme of things, $25-30 per week, is a small percentage of my income, which I’d probably otherwise waste on useless crap I don’t need. It’s a no-brainer, really.
As I’ve previously mentioned here, I’m a fan of Swedish pop singer, Magnus Carlsson. With Christmas coming “in a week and a day”, this is one of my favourite songs from him.
The jolly season is aproaching fast
Giving us a reason to be happy at last
I just wanna give you
The best that I have got
And it’s yours to keep
Waiting under the tree
You know it’s christmas in a week and a day
And I just can’t figure out what to give away
So I just wrap myself in paper for you baby
And then the christmas is past and long gone away
I’ll be right in your arms with a card that says
That I love you –
Merry christmas to you baby
We’re far from strangers
You’ve got a special glow
When we’re making angels in the beautiful snow
I just wanna give you
The love of my heart
And it’s yours to keep
Waiting under the tree
Though I know Jacaranda trees are considered a “pest” in many parts of Australia, because they’re an introduced species, I love them. Maybe it’s because I’m originally from the NSW North Coast, and nearby Grafton is considered the “Jacaranda Capital of Australia”? The purple flowers are, in my view, quite beautiful, and as I stopped and admired them tonight on Riley Street, Darlinghurst, there was another person taking in their view, and taking photographs of them, so I can’t be alone. I was on my way to meet a friend at “Bar Vincent”, on Liverpool Street, Darlinghurst. “This restaurant has an Onde vibe” to it, I said to my friend, reminiscent of another nearby restaurant with a similar “neighbourhood vibe” and menu, where we we had often dined together over the last twenty years. As it turns out, one of the key staff members had also worked there, during the restaurant’s final six months.Shared kingfish for entree. Shared beef for the main.
To be honest, we probably spent too much on the bottle of wine we shared, but hey, you only live once. The food, wine and company were excellent.
From there, we wandered up Oxford Street, checking out the Thursday night sites of Halloween.
People drinking wine and painting.“I used to always buy wallets from Sax Leather” I told my friend. I don’t think she quite believed me, noting the shop is more known for bondage gear, and politically-inspired shop displays.
As my friend and I waited for her Uber, I received a text from another friend who had just been to a college reunion. “Where are you?”, she asked, knowing I lived close-by. “About 100 metres away”, I replied, and as one of my good friends said goodbye, another said hello. What an awesome Thursday night.
As it’s my birthday, I went searching through my photographic archives for images from birthdays past. Oddly enough, I don’t have a lot of suitable photographs of my celebrating, but I did find one from a birthday I remember vividly. It’s me and my mum celebrating her birthday in Feburary 1984, just nine months before her death. Her birthday was Feburary 7, and she died on November 7, just two days before my own birthday. At the time there was a lot of concern in my family about having her funeral on the day of my own birthday. In the end, she died on November 7, and was buried on November 8. Given the proximity to my own birthday, it’s an anniversary I’m sure I’ll never forget. Even though it’s a long time (thirty years) since mum and dad’s death, I still think (and dream) about them often.
As I came in and out of my apartment block a few times today I kept an eye on the pile of “White Pages” on the door-step. Would anyone actually collect them?
For at least the last five years, I’ve noticed almost no-one from my block bothers to pick them up. The pile remains there, mostly untouched, until it disappears a few weeks later. I’ve noticed the slim-down Easter Suburbs version is often picked up, but the larger versions of White and Yellow pages, are almost never taken.
It was a day of “chores” for me. I needed to replace some washers in the shower, and I needed a new cable for my computer. So I was in and out of the building a few times today. I also had a few other minor chores to worry about. At the end of the day, having completed these chores, I felt quite satisfied.
Don’t ask me what else happened today… as there’s nothing else to report.
