I thought I knew what accessibility meant, but when I really did need to access anything around our sweet town of Seymour, I found being on the other side of the wheelchair was not only eye-opening, my heart was enlarged.

Many different types of access are needed for many different types of people. Side note: Are you not glad we all are different in differing ways for various reasons? “Variety is the very spice of life, that gives it all its favor,” wrote the 18th century poet William Cowper. My friend Google helped me find out who said that, by the way.

God knew this at creation. Ol’ Bill knew it then. We all would have richer lives if we remembered that now. I love flavor, don’t you? I say embrace the cinnamon, give room for the cilantro and say yes to the saffron.

I looked up accessibility just to make certain I knew what I was writing about. This adjective means many things, just like we all need various types of help in many different situations.

Maybe this man is blind, that woman at the next table has early dementia looking lost in loud restaurant music and chatter or perhaps the little person has a doctorate in mathematics even though she is as tall as a 9-year-old. Really, did you just giggle as you passed her?

Are you parking on the sidewalk blocking a ramped curb or leaving your car ever so briefly at a Seymour Transit bus stop? There are so many aspects to access. I have realized accessible means being accommodating, attainable, possible, obtainable or within reach.

However, I was pleasantly surprised to see that accessible can also mean friendly, approachable, cordial, affable, courteous and democratic.

Some of the town folk perhaps are bored by now with this column as many don’t know what those words mean, so I tossed in democratic to get their attention (wink and a smile).

First, I want to speak to those of us who need more of a certain skill or another to do anything in our town. Are you smiling and approachable to others? Are you friendly? Do you receive help if needed with humility, with grace?

Can others see you easily if you are in a wheelchair or on a scooter? Do you leave the headphones off? Do you look both ways at least twice? Do you feel entitled, arrogant, self-centered, unforgiving, resentful or do you easily see the negative without acknowledging the positive?

Your attitude toward others determines their attitude toward you, so says my Android. Even better, “Keep your face always toward the sunshine and shadows will fall behind you,” wrote Walt Whitman.

In Philippians, Paul tells us where to focus our thoughts. He teaches us to focus on whatever is true, noble, right, pure, lovely, admirable, praiseworthy or excellent.

Speaking as a seasoned old lady that has been on both sides of the bedpan/wheelchair/bedrail/curb, the side you occupy makes no difference. God’s Word is always true, living and abundant life giving. Abba Father in Heaven can be relied on to make your life more joyful and rich. Trust me, I’ve got gray hairs on my chinny-chin-chin.

I’ll be writing more on how the differently able (not disabled) get around and into our Jackson County towns focusing on the good much more than on the lack.

What is it really like to lose total control over the lower part of your body? Can you go swimming or even get into the public pools? Can you shop for food alone? What if you need to get help with food from Anchor House? If you dine out, can you fit into the bathroom?

What if you can’t drive? What if you need to work not only financially but to remain sane? Should you move someone in a wheelchair without asking? Should you pet that leashed and beautiful golden retriever calmly walking beside that sweet girl in her wheelchair? How does it feel to be lost in an elevator that goes up only one floor and you want to go down?

Can you safely cross the road to get to the Crossroads walk/bike pathways throughout Seymour? Are there inexpensive solutions to expensive sounding accessibility opportunities? Who are the helpers? Where are the helpers? Does someone need a helper or perhaps a kind word?

Just exactly what do you say to a blind man you’ll see later? We’ll talk soon.

Pegi Bricker is a Seymour resident who has lived with multiple sclerosis for the past 18 years. Send comments to [email protected].