Revelation

The other day (Wednesday, June 13, 2012) I had a surprising revelation when I went to pick up my dog at doggie-daycare.
Doggie-daycare is provided by Fetching-Looks Pet-Grooming in nearby Canandaigua, an establishment set up by Lisa and Bill Robinson.
Fetching-Looks is based on the fact Lisa built up such a large regular clientele as a groomer at Finger-Lakes Animal Hospital in Canandaigua.
Lisa and Bill are ex-employees of the Daily Messenger newspaper in Canandaigua, where I worked following my stroke.
It was the best job I ever had, and toward the end of my employ I worked with Bill, etc. to fly the newspaper’s web-site.
Bill quit, as did Lisa, but I stayed on a bit longer.
Bill switched to a stupid, meaningless job that paid fairly well, and Lisa became a groomer. At the Messenger she had been in ad-sales. Bill was an Editor.
The two married; second time for Bill.
For me the Messenger was post-stroke rehabilitation.
I had a stroke October 26, 1993, from which I’ve pretty much recovered.
I started there as an unpaid intern.
My going there was a result of enjoying so much doing my bus-union’s voluntary newsletter.
I drove transit-bus 16&1/2 years for Regional Transit Service (RTS), a public-employer, the provider of transit bus-service in Rochester and environs. My stroke ended that. I retired from Transit on medical-disability.
During my final year, I started a voluntary newsletter for my bus-union.
I was the editor and publisher; I did it in Microsoft Word®.
My rehabilitation program was trying to reintegrate me into the real world. Unpaid internships were a way of reintegrating.
I was brought there by United-Way taxi, and was eventually hired in 1996 — and cleared to drive.
I was very specific about clearance to drive: “Don’t clear me unless you think I can ride motorcycle.”
Right after the stroke I was in inpatient rehabilitation, and a young therapist asked me what my goals were.
“To ride my motorcycle again,” I said.
“Are you kidding?” she guffawed.
“Your motorcycle days are over!”
I was still a wreck at that time, still semi-paralyzed.
Recovery continued, and eventually I began outpatient rehabilitation.
There I was told I’d be cross-country skiing in a week.
I thought them joking, but in a week I was.
After a while I was in driving rehabilitation.
Things were sloppy — I was forgetful — so we waited a year.
I did better then, finally cleared to drive.
Meanwhile my motorcycle, a Yamaha FZR400 crotch-rocket, was calmly waiting in our garage for me to get better.
It needed a new battery.
My brother in northern DE suggested I get so I could ride bicycle before trying the motorcycle.
But finally it was time.
I threw a leg over it, started it, and off I went. Just like old times; slightly different, but not much.
I felt secure riding the FZR400, but traded it for a 1996 Kawasaki ZX6R, another crotch-rocket. (The FZR400 was 1989.)
The ZX6R didn’t need to be revved as high to cruise the expressway.
I remember thinking “what was I doing this for?” as I gave them the check.
I’d had a stroke. I’m not supposed to be able to do this.
Most of what I used a motorcycle for was to ride to work.
So one morning I rode to the Messenger on my Kawasaki crotch-rocket.
This is the revelation.
People inside were stunned.
“Hasn’t that guy had a stroke?”
Robinson said people were saying that as I rode in.

• “Canandaigua” (“cannan-DAY-gwuh”) is a small city nearby where I live in Western NY. The city is also within a rural town called “Canandaigua.” The name is Indian, and means “Chosen Spot.” It’s about 14 miles away. —I live in the small rural town of West Bloomfield, southeast of Rochester.a