An Exceptional Poet

Contemporary American poet, Paul Guest, frequently participates in casual poetry readings at Meacham Writers’ Workshop, regularly held at the University of Tennessee, in Chattanooga.  In the spring of 2006, Guest read several selections from his chapbook entitled, The Resurrection of the Body and the Ruin of the World.  Paralyzed in a bicycle accident at age twelve, Guest is an uncommon writer whose life might demand pity, but he refuses the label of victim. 

            Two days of readings are typically followed by a casual reception at a participant’s home.  On this occasion, we were invited to a third-floor walk-up apartment, without handicapped access.  Confined to a motorized wheelchair, the only way Guest could participate in the festivities would be to allow others to carry him and his two hundred pound wheelchair upstairs.  He chose not to suffer that indignity, but rather remained outside, at street level, on the sidewalk.  I remember wondering at the time why there was no handicapped access to the building, but then I remembered it was a private residence, divided into three apartments.  Perhaps accessibility laws do not apply in this case.

One of the more popular poets present, Guest garnered much attention outside and many left the party upstairs to join him on the sidewalk.  I was one of those on the sidewalk.  We stayed there for over two hours reading our work, talking, drinking wine and having a wonderful time.   Not so upstairs.  When I returned upstairs some time later, I heard grumblings about the “prima donna” downstairs.  I heard, “How dare he hold court outside!  He could have brought a lighter chair.  He could have been carried upstairs!  He could have made other arrangements!”

I was shocked at what, to me, seemed only to be misplaced jealousy.  Most were genuinely happy to see Guest in attendance, whatever way they could spend time with him.  They were grateful he came.  Others, however, felt he should have suffered whatever indignity he had to, just to conform.  Many assumptions were made; assumptions that the disabled must suffer indignity to fit into the able-bodied world, that this poet must explain his reasons for not wanting to be carried upstairs, that this poet was somehow less for remaining outside, that this poet was a “prima donna” and expected to be catered to.  Nothing was further from the truth.  This poet acted with dignity and with respect for others.  I wish the same could be said for all, especially those who, with a little better planning and foresight, could have made suitable arrangements for all to be satisfied.