The Man in the Wheelchair

'A gesture in the true spirit of the Freedom Convoy.'

graphic created by me at Canva.com

It’s a week before Christmas. Festive lights are everywhere. Carols are being sung by church choirs. Old favourites are playing on the radio. And “The Little Drummer Boy” brings to mind an incident described in the book, Honking for Freedom.

That boy had no gold, no frankincense or myrrh to offer the newborn babe asleep in the manger. Nevertheless, the boy felt the magic. He was part of a momentous occasion and yearned to contribute. So he gave what he could - a song well played.

Chapter 25 in Honking for Freedom is titled “The Man in the Wheelchair.” Convoy spokesperson Benjamin Dichter had slipped on an icy sidewalk, broken two bones in his right ankle, and undergone surgery. His leg was in a cast. Unable to put any weight on it, he was hobbling around Ottawa on crutches.

Scheduled to speak on a Sunday morning, yet concerned about slipping again in the subzero weather, with the aid of friends he carefully traversed four city blocks. A couple of gents hoisted him onto the stage truck. Two others stood nearby, holding him steady, as he told the crowd the Freedom Convoy protest was “the biggest festival in Canada’s history, an example to the world.”

Afterward, someone offered Benjamin a wheelchair, “an old one with an aeriel on the side flying a Canadian flag.” He declined, but they were insistent:

To my right, I caught a glimpse of a man, late twenties, dressed in a red-and-blue snowsuit, furry hat over his head, and lying on the snow.

“Give him back his wheelchair,” I said. “This is terrible. Don’t let him lie there.”

“We’ll get him something to sit on,” somebody said, and in a flash someone brought him a lawn chair.

“He wants you to use his wheelchair,” another voice said.

Embarrassed, Benjamin continued to protest, but soon realized that this man

was offering to help in a way that maybe nobody else in the crowd could. He wanted to lend me his wheelchair, his only means of getting around, a gesture in the true spirit of the Freedom Convoy. I couldn’t make it over to him in the crowd, but he waved at me and I waved back, and [my two friends] wheeled me back to the Sheraton in his chair.

I’ve written about Honking for Freedom a few times here.