Dear Evan Hansen: A Letter to the Lady Who Sat Next to Me

Dear Elder Woman Who I Spoke to Even Though You Didn’t Deserve the Misguided Respect I Gave You,

I was frustrated with myself when during the first act of the musical my cell phone slipped from my purse that wouldn’t snap properly underneath the seat of the people in front of me. When you have a child with special needs, you always have your phone available in case a caregiver needs to contact you. Yes, this means that occasionally I might be the one discreetly checking my phone in a theater, but I promise that I have my screen brightness turned down as low as possible. This is just one of those things this Mom must do from time to time. I knew I couldn’t ask the people to get up during the play, so I tried my best to relax and enjoy the show until intermission when I would be able to more politely retrieve it. 

When the time finally came, I told the folks in front of me what had happened and asked if they wouldn’t mind standing for a moment so that we could grab my phone. They were kind and happy to oblige, but what happened next really floored me. You, lady of at least 20 years on me; 20 years that clearly have not provided you with the wisdom you need; had the audacity to enter into a situation that wasn’t yours to enter. When you asked me why I needed my phone so desperately I should have ignored you from the start, but I was raised to be respectful toward my elders and I found myself responding to your nosiness by explaining to you that I needed to check to see if my babysitter had texted. You would think you could have left it at that, but no...you are a chatty one, and not in the nice kind of way like my father in the checkout line at the grocery store or the sweet lady who walks her dog by my house each day and starts a conversation about the mundane if she is able to catch me on the porch. For some reason you felt the need to keep going and asked how old my children were--assuming, of course, that they were both small. Well, you know what they say about assuming anything...and I’d like to believe that what followed eventually made you feel like the ass you were being. When I answered 13 and 16 you really dug your heels in and looked at me aghast before saying, ‘And you STILL need a babysitter?’ I rather sheepishly explained that it was because my older son was disabled. Why I felt the need to offer you this information, I don’t know. (I will know better next time, so thank you for teaching me that!) As if all this hadn’t been bad enough up to this point, what followed was even worse. When you questioned my use of the word ‘disabled’ and told me how you thought that wasn’t a politically correct term to use these days, I genuinely wanted to slug you. Now that you had me good and pissed off, I snapped back at you with something I normally would not have said. I told you that if I had said that I had a babysitter for my son because he was ‘retarded’ (a word I DO NOT USE EVER) then maybe you would have the right to question me. I could tell that at that point you finally realized you’d crossed a line and I saw the way you scrambled to make it right. I can appreciate that you told me a story about a boy at your church with special needs and amazing parents that have helped you to be more comfortable with kids like mine. I could also appreciate that even though you only said that boy’s first name I happened to guess which family you were speaking of since that child attends my son’s school. (I’m still contemplating whether or not to mention you to that family. I can’t help but wonder if they have had uncomfortable run-ins with you too) But I just can’t appreciate that you felt it was okay to question me in that way or make me feel as crappy as you did. 

I’ve met people like you before and though my skin has certainly grown thicker over the years, it still hurts. The time the man (who ironically was around your age) questioned me as I pulled into the handicapped spot (with a legal tag, mind you) at the beach I cried for hours afterward. He didn’t even give me a chance to open the back door to get Miles out of the car before he started yelling at me about ‘people like you who park in handicapped spots when they don’t need to.’ When I became red in the face and shot back defensively with, ‘would you like to meet my son who is the reason I am parked here,’ he, clearly not used to being challenged in such a way and no doubt feeling a bit of egg on his face, decided to call me ‘crazy’ and to tell me to ‘go take my meds.’ So you see, I am not unfamiliar with ignorant know-it-alls, and that past experience was perhaps the distant, painful memory that made me think answering your questions with more respect than you deserved was the right thing to do.

I feel better after getting this off my chest. I hope you know that I am not angry at you, I am angry at what you did and the righteousness with which you did it. I pride myself in being a bit of an open book, especially when it comes to my son and the challenges he and our family face. I would much prefer people ask me questions rather than wonder because education is the key to empathy and understanding. But sitting in that theater enjoying a night out with my husband, there was no need for me to have had to get into a discussion about my son and which words  are or are not politically correct to describe him simply because I dropped my cell phone. It wasn’t the time or the place and I would like to believe that our little interaction--that brief moment in time that we two strangers were brought together unnecessarily--has crossed your mind at least once since then. And I hope it has softened you and that it will make you hold your tongue the next time you encounter someone who is having an experience that you don’t need to insert yourself into. That is, unless it is to be helpful and kind.

Happy holidays!

Sincerely,

Me