Having a privileged platform to share an opinion, publicly, on Sundays can be risky.
For Christians — of which I am — the seventh day is a day of rest, reflection and worship.
My Grandmother Murray, who attended Trinity United Church regularly over there on Meadowlark Road, scolded me with season scorn when, in 1984, I penned a section front page piece on laughing with disability — complete with a one-third page of me sipping a bottle of beer with a straw.
On a Sunday.
Grandma was not pleased and passed some interesting and, honestly, unflattering comments from her friends in the pews.
So to my wonderful grandmother — God rest her soul — I am deeply sorry for today’s scribbling.
But since this is a newspaper, we try to present the news in an informative way 24/7. And Sunday is one of the seven.
So … here we go: disability and sex.