I Okay
In loving memory of Tommy Unser
I had never met anyone who had the ability to sweep me off my feet. At 16 years old, I had decided that true love was in fact a lie, and that knights in shining armor did not exist- save for the fairy tales I read my nieces; but Tommy proved me wrong. A human hugging machine, Tom quite literally swept me off my feet within just the first hour of meeting him. His handshake-hug was not only that of respect while he made firm eye contact, but of love and an incomparable truth, as he pulled my hand to his heart- as if to tell me that he was in fact a real person, a loving soul. I knew this, of course, but for so many who didn’t already- Tommy’s handshake was an adorably alarming and incredibly powerful mechanism.
Handshakes and hugs were only just the beginning. In the short month that I knew Tommy, his words effectively changed the course of my entire life. You see, it didn’t really matter that my knight in shining armor was really a big teddy bear of seventeen years old, armed with Goldfish crackers instead of a shield and fighting, instead of for his kingdom, for his life. Tommy was blessed with Down syndrome, and fought each day to embrace (and force others to embrace) his own differences. I remember Tommy fondly for his abilities rather than his disabilities. He was a sweet talker who had a definite way with words. Tom could tell me anything, and I’d believe he was delving into the bottom of his heart; even if he was in fact reading the back of the Goldfish bag. His pick up line was simply: “You call me!” and effortlessly worked on each and every girl he met- including myself, and the cashier at his favorite bowling alley. I can specifically remember this particular phrase getting Tommy into trouble with my boyfriend, while Tom would often physically move him out of the way to offer me this last line, followed by a huge bear hug. Then, there was Tom’s famous line. Two words, grammatically inane, and all the more adorable, that captured each of Tom’s acquaintances. Tommy’s signature phrase: “I okay”, symbolically commanded us to accept his differences, and assure us that he, too, was comfortable with them. Furthermore, Tommy’s assertion serves as a life mantra: of self-acceptance and bold brevity, as he proudly embraces his own disability. “I okay,” is simply put, powerfully packed, and an ingenious expression of faith. Faith in yourself is something you have to almost physically search for- but Tommy wore it on his sleeve. Immediately confident with himself, Tom was able to remedy any false first impressions that you may have received. If not for Tommy, those of us who once looked at people with intellectual disabilities as disabled may never have believed in their true abilities and gifts. These people possess the power to change, by continually adapting themselves to ever-changing environments, the power to overcome, by proving to us time and again that they will prevail situations that arise, and exhibit self-confidence otherwise unbeknownst to the general public.
It’s people like Tommy who open your eyes. Tom not only gained my adoration and respect, but my curiousity and envy; as I’ve still not quite figured out how to convincingly tell the world that I, am in fact Okay.
