They have their paddles up in the air shimmering in the sunlight. They wave it around and just like that, we are done. Done for the season. We walk back to the tent, and start packing up. We are all tired, but our hearts feel full. We practiced three days a week for almost eight weeks and here were are putting away our gear until April of next year.
Our entire weekend was spent at the waterfront. We were there both days from morning to evening and we loved every minute of it. Our teams participated on both days and our paddlers walked off the boats tired, but happy. We didn't win any medals or championships, but we were there. With everybody else, competing with everyone and not having concessions made for us. We were, for the last two days, just paddlers and unless people noticed, which quite a few did, just a bit slower than a lot of other dragon boats. With our blazing fluorescent green jerseys, our custom made paddles (quite a few of us have them), and with our enthusiasm, we belonged.
Noel has been doing this a few years but the veteran paddler on the boat has been doing this for more than 20 years now. Longer than Noe has been around on this earth. But I look around at his fellow paddlers and I am overwhelmed with emotion. We have a sweet sweet sixty four year old who recently celebrated her birthday. She loves purple and is generally decked out in purple from head to toe. We have a hearing impaired but very enthusiastic paddler who needs a lot of help getting in and out of the boat, but boy does he make noise! We have our sober veteran paddler who stays so very Zen that sometimes you fail to notice her. We have our Special Olympics star who is up on the slopes snowboarding in the morning but ready with his paddle by evening at the waterfront. We have our noisy ones and our cool ones and our friendly ones and our aloof ones and our fidgety ones and our preternaturally calm ones and our severely impacted ones and our ‘on the cusp of normal’ ones. Almost like a microcosm of the special needs world, almost like a microcosm of the universe. And almost all of them, from the teenager to the sixty year old, never ever complain. They practice in the rain and the wind and the blazing sun and the cold. Nothing holds them back. For supposedly being special needs, they all are so flexible and cheery about everything that I admire their resilience and wonder if this is how God actually intended all humanity to be? I'm sure they do have their bad days, but we've never had to stop practice or cut it short or have a boat return to dock to accommodate any of them.
But more than all, we have the parents and volunteers.
The parents, devoted, long suffering, patient and participating in the sport because their kid wants in. Driving them back and forth, paddling if needed, waiting at the dock to help them on and off the boat and taking hours off their schedule three days a week for two months straight. Knowledgeable, welcoming and helpful, I've made friends with a quite a few and I will forever be grateful to the person who first mentioned dragon boats to us, because as much as Noe enjoys this whole thing, I love being here, surrounded by people who have been around the block on this journey I am on with Noe currently, and are so very generous with their time and knowledge and resources. And just to be friends, sharing recipes and the inside scoop on spices and laughing at our kids' and their antics on and off the boat.
What can I say about our volunteers? Words fail me. Most of our volunteers have no blood ties on the boat. They are just along there for the ride because they want to help. Help our kids. Help them achieve what once would have been unthinkable. A place at the table. Help them make their presence felt. Make the world take notice. And notice the world does. And all credit goes to our magnificent volunteers.
In an ultra competitive sport where the actual race lasts barely over three minutes, a lot of our volunteers are actually paddlers on neurotypical boats and have to consciously slow themselves down and literally let the boat run. We have paddlers with muscle tone issues, and paddlers with hearing issues and almost to the last one, our paddlers are in it to paddle, not necessarily win. Tamping down that competitive spirit and letting the specials call the shots must be torture! But they do, they take their cues from the specials and just go with the flow. We almost always come in last, but none of the specials are disappointed, they walk out with a grin, everyone tired and panting and wanting to rest, but there is no ruminating on the loss or strategizing for the next race. And our volunteers go along. They don't take the loss personally. They cheer on our team and move on to the next race.
And they come back, year after year and help and guide and cheer and comfort the specials. They put up with the muscle aches and the allergies and the strain of guiding the specials. Three days a week, a minimum of a three hour chunk every time to be devoted to practice, and an entire weekend dedicated to our team. I am awed by their devotion. I know enough parents with special needs kids who do not do as much as our volunteers do. The volunteers do not go home to a special needs person, but they have what it takes to love one and work with them. I am a firm believer in Karma, and I know they are all collecting good karma in spades. More than the parents I would venture to say. We do it because our kids are in there. They do it for our kids plain and simple.
So as I sit here typing this, my heart is full. When you think about your special needs kid, your one major fear is about how they will survive in this big bad world. But a weekend at the Rose Festival Dragon Boat races at Portland, Oregon will give you hope, and reassure you that the world, for all the nonsense going on currently, is still at heart, a good place. Every time our specials walked off the boat and up the dock, the ovation they received from the public was rousing and raucous. Our specials probably didn't know the significance, but every parent there knew, knew that they were being applauded and accepted and appreciated. I don't know what their struggles might be elsewhere, but there on the shores of the Willamette, the second weekend of June, we were content!
And that means a lot to us. Until next year, paddles up Wasabi Special Dragons!!
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