She touched me; I simply have to face the fact
She touched me...
Control myself and try to act
and I didn't even know her name
But she touched me... she touched me...
And suddenly nothing is the same!
'cause she touched me...she touched me...
And suddenly...nothing, nothing, nothing is the same
~Adapted from He Touched Me, Barbara Striesand.
She touched me. A song I didn't know until my assistant began singing it to me, when we were talking about an incident that happened to me a couple of months ago. It is a common occurrence and I think I need to use this week's column to explore my feelings on being touched by a stranger. I was at my cousin's birthday party, which was being held at a restaurant and while we waited to be seated, just as any other family would, this older woman silently approached me and began rubbing my shoulder. Then, she wordlessly walked away. The touch was in no way sexual or romantic, but it was more intimate than I typically get with a stranger. My family is very used to these kinds of things, but my friend was a little shocked. She asked me if I knew the woman, to which I replied, "No." Her eyes bugged out of her head. Actually, some of my family anecdotes also involve touching. I don't know what it is with me and older women, because that wasn't the first time. There was a time, when I was younger and I was at a play with my mom and again, an older woman thought I was cute, so she rubbed my face. The woman got a gift she wasn't expecting. Sometimes, I drool a little bit, because of the high muscle tone in my tongue. Then there was the time just recently, I was volunteering in a local high school and one of the students tried to "help" me by wiping my face with his finger. I got a chuckle when he stared at his hand and said, "Eeeewwwwww." Let us not forget my recent visit to my college cafeteria, where one of the employees, with no warning, used her cleaning cloth to slap the food out of my beard and then proceeded to clean the table with it. Children often are drawn to the lights of my chair's controller, like moths to a porch light and they take off with me, if I don't have time to lock the chair. Life is an exercise in terror. My assistant tries to body block people, but she doesn't always see them coming.
In preparation for this column, I thought about superstitions around touching objects. The only reason I can think of why people would touch me, is to either they think I will bring them good luck, like Buddah's belly or to heal me, by the laying on of hands, a common practice of the Early Church and found in the New Testament. I am a practicing Catholic and appreciate the care and concern demonstrated by the act of laying hands, and anointing, etc., but I am twenty four years old and healing rituals haven't worked for me, yet. Clemson football players touch Howard's Rock before every home game and Notre Dame players touch a "Play Like a Champion" sign, to bring them a win. After a quick web search, I found ten lucky objects to rub in Las Vegas, including boobs, butts, bows, and more bellies. The one crucial difference between these boobs, butts, bows, bellies and Bryans is I am a person, not an inanimate object. You shouldn't go up to any woman, man,or child and touch them, unless they give you consent or you have an close relationship with them. The disability etiquette that I and other advocates use, reinforces this basic idea. When you run across a young person with a disability that's cute, don't touch them. When you run across a person using a wheelchair, don't touch them. When you run across a person with a disability, don't touch them. When you run across a person, don't touch them. Get the idea? If you don't know them, you should keep your paws to yourself. A better approach is to start a conversation first. Both parties will learn from one another and perhaps, it might end with a hug, if you ask first and you still think we'll bring you good luck.
That's how I roll.