Pulling with Control

by Kristina Chew

category: acceptance

Published July 01, 2009 @ 12:28AM PT

"There is a fundamental difference in Japanese workmanship---to pull with control rather than push with force."

This quote is from a favorite book of mind, Obasan (1981) by Joy Kogawa. It's a novel about Japanese-Canadian Naomi Nakane and her family during and after World War II. It's written in language that is at times sparse and lyrical, poetic, and what's said is just as important as what is not, especially about what happened to Naomi's mother when she goes back to Nagasaki. "Pull[ing] with control rather than push[ing] with force" could describe how Naomi gradually finds out what really happened--is is tragic---to her mother.

"Pull[ing] with control rather than push[ing] with force" comes close to describing how we try to help Charlie learn, grow and move on in a world that's not inclined to accommodate to his needs. Sometimes, we pull too much, and maybe even (without meaning to) push Charlie too far and too much as on Saturday. And then, we remind ourselves how much Charlie and we learn from not always doing the same old same old and trying something different.

Monday something happened for the first time ever: Charlie and I went on a bike ride.

Bike running has been strictly a Charlie and dad thing. I rode a bike everywhere (even in the snow) when I was in grad school, but have been (1) very out of practice and (2) too nervous about Charlie. After a memorable (infamous) moment when Jim told me to let go of 6-year-old Charlie's bike and I couldn't let go and I ended up pulling him and the bike over on top of me, it has been felt, Jim handles the bike rides. Charlie has become so used to this that, when I tried to tail the two of them a few months ago (I have inherited Charlie's old yellow bikes), Charlie was unnerved and I betook myself on my own route around the neighborhood.

Monday around 1.30pm Charlie put on his bike helmet, said he wanted to ride bikes, and went to get his bike.

I explained that Jim was at work in New York and would be back in a few hours. Charlie first got out Jim's bike and arranged both his own and his dad's bikes nicely about two feet away from the curb, ready for riding action. After seeing how close a few cars came to the bikes, I explained to Charlie that I had to move them closer to the sidewalk. And, that Jim was not coming home for some time. I got out the yellow bike and talked about us doing a short ride, all while knowing, that's not really going to be possible: Bike rides mean some very specific things to Charlie one being, the route.

Before I knew it, he had gotten me Jim's bike helmet and was smiling when I shut the door and left a note for his sitter, who was to come at 2.30pm. Then Charlie was astride his bike and heading down the street and so was I and away we went.

Until we got to a fairly busy intersection, I felt a sense of ease skimming down the street, Charlie in front of me. As we neared the intersection, and he started to veer into the middle of the street, I was more than reminded of why I'm so grateful that Jim takes Charlie on these rides. Cars were turning, signalling, speeding up, slowing down, honking. I called out to Charlie to stop at the sign (he did) and go left (he did) and we went down some side streets, the breeze to our backs. We passed a street that would bring us in a nice circle back home if we made a left onto it: Charlie kept going.

And going and going, till we hit an ever busier intersection. He stopped and, on seeing me getting off my bike, did too. "This way," he said and pointed to the right. Instantly images of all the streets, and all the cars and SUVs and trucks, we'd have to ride by en route to various destinations "this way" (a playground we once visited a lot, a bridge Jim and Charlie habitually ride over) filled my mind. Without Jim's finely honed sense of how to guide Charlie in the streets and direct traffic, I knew we could be in some very sticky (and dangerous) situations. Plus, the sitter was probably at our house.

I told Charlie I needed to call her; of course, I didn't have her number saved on my phone. I thought and kept my words minimal, and to the point: She was waiting at our house. Dad would be home very soon and take him on ride. I was just not able to do it. Charlie was very consternated [understatement]. Thinking he's going one way and then being told he has to turn around, back track, is a transition that's especially difficult for him to negotiate his way through. He cried out and grasped the handlebars tighter, shook them, and started to get back on his bike. A trio of tweenage girls walked down the street as Charlie sounded his distress. Then, looking very worried, he pulled himself onto his bike and turned left, towards home.

He pedaled really really fast and fortunately we only had to go a few blocks before he turned left on our street. I spotted the sitter's car and then Charlie had stopped and put down the kickstand, and said "hi" as he walked past the sitter. He was on edge for a half-hour but calming after getting himself a couple of glasses of water and sitting on the old blue couch. He played with his Legos while the sitter tried her hand at some magnet blocks. Jim came back around 4.30pm and he and Charlie were off likethat. They rode far over the bridge that Charlie had in mind with me, and then beyond, per Charlie's wish.

May I just keep remembering the power of a patient, gentle push.