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October 14, 2006

The State of Diversity Address

It seems like it's been about a year since Bryan set this up for me. Thank you Bryan! All I had was/is the concept: anordinarymystic. I live in an existential universe. Anyhow, it's been a great gift. I'm still unwrapping it and finding my way into it. It's been a place to reveal myself and explore my thoughts. For a while I wandered around the abyss looking for meaning and leaving a trail of words, until they collapsed under their own weight and became indistinguishable from the chaos around them. The experience has taught me that diversity is an essential condition of life.

One great thing about this medium is that it is an undefined reality, a digital frontier that both emerges and recedes with each bit of data. It is a quantum reality where cause does not necessarily precede effect and explanations are not necessarily linear. I know from exerting myself upon the ether, insinuating myself into the Internet, that reality is by nature diverse and that realities that are less diverse, are less likely to sustain life as abundantly as more diverse realities. In other words, I believe that diversity functions as a measure of an environment's ability to sustain itself.

Therefore, this being the arbitrary anniversary of anordinarymystic.com, it seems only fitting to offer the following State of Diversity Address. And the state of diversity from this perspective is hostage.

Diversity is hostage to the politics of identity, the politics of color, the politics of gender, the politics of ability, the politics of age. Diversity is drawn and quartered daily by an unruly mob of past injustices, of wounds and hurts so painful and so private that we cannot look at the man behind the curtain with his hand up our skirts, down our pants, on our backs, picking our pockets, stealing our dreams with candied celebrations, trinkets and baubles, brighter shiner newer, prettier glorifications of the examples we make exceptions when we hold them out for hope. But color is not cash, and race is not reparations. We are not race, we are not gender, we are not ability or age, we are, we the people, all the people, all the time and only those labels when we offer or accept anything less.

June 20, 2006

More simple pleasures

I was thinking about my previous simple pleasures post back on April 30 while I was in the shower this morning. Something about water. The beach is my natural habitat. The properties of water to heal and purify. All lead to more thoughts of simple pleasures.

Ancient voices by the Paul Winter Consort was playing and I thought of my friend J. J. We met at Michigan State during fall semester 1982, when he volunteered to be my personal assistant for the weekend in order to make it possible for me to attend a weekend religious retreat being sponsored by St. John's Student Parish in East Lansing.

I have the utmost respect for people who work as personal assistants (PA's) and do it well combining care and compassion with grace and humor. It's a job I can't imagine myself doing. I especially can't imagine myself volunteering to assist someone with their elimination processes.

Over the weekend Jage and I, that's what I call him, became best friends. I was 28 and still living at home and had shared with him that I was trying to figure out how to get out on my own and become independent. He suggested we move in together as suite mates in the Graduate Center and offered to work as my personal assistant.

It was a huge move. I was scared and confused most of the time for the first few weeks and Jage felt obligated to to spend pretty much every hour he wasn't in class, working, or asleep with me or nearby. Very early on the need to rely on more than one person became evident and Jim helped me train the first few additional PA's I hired. That was his final semester as a full-time graduate student and we moved from managing the tricky business of being both friends and employer/employee to being lifelong best friends.

The next year was a tough one for both of us. Jage's first full-time professional gig postgraduate school wasn't going well nor was his relationship with his fiancee. I was working as a graduate advisor in Wilson Hall for 1200 predominantly sophomores and juniors and my mother was dying of cancer. One afternoon after I had been on-call the night before and had not slept Jage came by. He gave me a copy of Ancient Voices and we played it on my new Sony linear tracking turntable. He noticed that I hadn't had an opportunity to get my hair washed that morning, I don't remember if my personal assistant had not shown up or if I just skipped it that morning out of fatigue or depression. Out of nowhere he asked if I would like my hair washed and offered to assist me.

This morning as Gary washed my hair and I listened to Paul Winter that moment came back to me and I felt as blessed as I did that day in Wilson Hall.

January 14, 2006

What's the most significant challenge you face?

"So what is the most significant challenge you face in day-to-day life?" The question was posed to me by Ted Kennedy Jr. following a Chamber of Commerce economic club luncheon, and it caught me totally off guard despite the fact that both on his web site and in his speech he had expressed an interest in collecting answers to that very question from individuals with disabilities to inform his work on their behalf.

I work at Eastern Michigan University, a midsize public university, directing services for students with disabilities and was privileged to attend the event as the guest of our new president, John Fallon. I was in the fifth grade when President Kennedy was assassinated. I'd grown-up with the space program, and the president's fitness campaign and I remember being vaguely aware that he had a sister with a developmental disability. Later of course after I acquired a disability I learned more about the Kennedy family's commitment to the liberation of individuals with disabilities in general. In fact, much of the passion that drives my own career comes from the pride, self-esteem, and compassion that were engendered by the ideals of “Camelot.” I do not know the origin of the axiom that if one is not part of the solution, one is part of the problem but I have always associated it with that era, the Kennedy family, and the Peace Corps.

Frankly, I hadn't given much thought to the challenges in my life for a long while. Don't get me wrong. Life is hard. There is a difference between hard and challenging. Challenging implies a possibility of success, achievement, overcoming. Hard is to be endured. It just is. I am in pain most of the time. The limitations imposed by my disability are compounded by the inherent unreliability of complex technological systems (e.g. powered wheelchairs and adapted vehicles) and my reliance on cheap labor to provide the care and assistance I need to maintain my independence and productivity. If I saw all of that as a personal challenge I would own personal responsibility for overcoming it and that would be devastatingly overwhelming because there is no way that I can overcome those challenges on a personal level without overcoming them on a social level.

I've been doing this for a long time now. I have a solid network of personal assistants, and I know how and where to find reliable help. I earn enough that with a subsidy from the state I'm able to compensate them adequately, but not fairly given the importance of their services. Without the subsidy and my job I'd forced into a nursing home where the World Institute on Disability estimates my life expectancy would be about 18 months, but as long as they both continue my life works pretty well. Challenging? Not really. Stressful but not difficult, I get tired of the complexity, and instability but I simply do not have the financial resources to insulate myself any further from those realities and besides everything is relative. Over time anything can become familiar, seem normal and my life to me is just that ordinary. And on a comparative basis it all depends on your point of reference, "challenging" as my life might be, on a global scale I live a life of relative ease.

If there is a challenge it is in maintaining the emotional energy to remain positive and keep believing that things will continue to become easier in the face of the constant erosion of self that it requires to be dependent on others for so much. Good personal assistants, like good professionals in any field care about what they do and want to do a good job. They put themselves into their work and that's where things get challenging. Imagine needing to negotiate which parts get washed in what sequence when you shower, or getting your hair just right when you can't demonstrate exactly what you want done. Sure there's always the option of requiring strict adherence to a written protocol but generally that has the effect of diminishing the care and enthusiasm committed people bring to a job and often results in high of turnover. By the time I get to the office, I've been doing direct supervision for three or four hours. And once I'm there, there are other professionals and a half-dozen student workers to supervise, not to mention committees and councils and a whole world that runs on compromise. Challenging, maybe. I prefer to think of it as an opportunity.

There is no doubt expectations influence outcomes and if I see my life as challenging, it will be challenging. If I see it filled with opportunities, I will experience opportunities. That's how I manage my disability I look for the opportunities it presents. My disability affords me an appreciation of the fragile and precarious nature of life, and the importance of living each day and each moment to the fullest. Many of the attributes I like best in myself have developed directly out of the realities of my disability. My career and the opportunity to make a difference, to be part of the solution, come directly from the experience of my disability.

Several years ago I began extending my search for the opportunity inherent in disability into my work. Curb-cuts and power door operators seem like obvious examples of how the inclusion of persons with disabilities benefits nondisabled people as well in our society. I am a firm believer that as we become more accessible and more inclusive we all benefit, disabled and nondisabled alike. Recently I had been advocating for additional resources to encourage students with disabilities to become more involved in the recreational and intramural opportunities on our campus and to support their participation so when the invitation from President Fallon arrived, I was ecstatic. Instantly I saw an opportunity to present my ideas to someone who I knew would understand their compelling nature.

I also suspected that people were pushing compelling ideas at Mr. Kennedy wherever he went with the same zeal as the drug dealers I encountered in Times Square back in the 1980s, but I couldn't let that stop me. I've never been afraid of competition. For several weeks I worked on drafting a vision of how the increased participation of students with disabilities in our recreational and intramural programs would benefit them, nondisabled students, and the University community in general. Understanding the importance of brevity I manicured it down to one page. I didn't know that I would get to meet Mr. Kennedy. I certainly hoped I would, and if I did I wanted to be prepared.

The same week that I received President Fallon's invitation I'd also taken possession of a new wheelchair. The longer one sits down the more important comfort becomes and the harder it is to achieve. I was thrilled with the new chair which is the most comfortable I've had, and after 37 years of sitting down that's very important. Unfortunately it does not interface properly with my adapted minivan for me to drive. I knew that was a possibility when I ordered it, and that it would be a close call. My minivan is nearing the end of its useful life anyway. Luckily, I could still be a passenger so I'd asked a friend of mine to drive me to the luncheon, which was being held at our corporate education center several miles off the main campus. He's always late. The luncheon was at noon so I told him to pick me up at 10:30 AM.

While I waited for my ride I thought about what I would say to Mr. Kennedy if I had the opportunity to meet him. I was certain he must have people soliciting him wherever he went and I didn't want to be perceived as just another obsequious sycophant but it was worth risking that because the opportunity was so much greater than any potential threat to my pride. The appointed time came and went, my friend didn't show up. A half an hour went by, then an hour. My friend showed up at a quarter to 12. I was nearly apoplectic, at least on the inside. On the outside I managed to maintain some composure but on the inside I was totally freaked out. Here was this amazing opportunity, not only was I going to be a guest of the President I was to join him at his table, and I was going to arrive late.

We pulled up in front of the Eaglecrest corporate education center and I exited the van full speed like some sort of technological special ops commando. The vice president for communications was waiting just inside the door looking anxious but she remained cheerful and gracious as we moved briskly toward the event. It took a conscious effort to override the impulse to hurry on ahead. Just as we turned a corner, there was President Fallon talking with Mr. Kennedy as a photographer snapped pictures, and three or four other people looked on chatting among themselves. Embarrassed and flustered I felt like abandoning my mission of speaking with Mr. Kennedy about the case statement for the adaptive sports and inclusion initiative I'd been dreaming up. We spoke briefly, I introduced myself and mentioned that I would like to speak with him about a project I had in mind and then it was time for us to be seated and he to be introduced.

Once we were seated I was put at ease by the graciousness of President Fallon and his wife. I knew several other people at the table and the conversation was easy and interesting. Someone from the chamber of commerce briefly went over the agenda indicating that our speaker would be Mr. Kennedy, and lunch was served. After we ate Mr. Kennedy spoke, he was of course eloquent and his message compelling, but then with me in the audience he was preaching to the choir and I thought about the similarities between his speech and my usual shtick. There was a question-and-answer period following and then after a few closing remarks from chamber officials the event began to breakup. Immediately a line of people wanting to speak with Mr. Kennedy or have their pictures taken with him began to form. Approximately 500 people had attended the luncheon and the tables were placed closely together, without a crew of movers there was no way to get from the side of the room where we were seated to Mr. Kennedy's table without exiting and returning through another entrance. I saw an opportunity in the delay. I figured if I was last in line our conversation might be less pressured than if a line of people were waiting.

Except for the waitstaff clearing the tables the hall was pretty much empty as I approached the moment of our second encounter. Mr. Kennedy pulled up a chair and sat down directly in front of me loosening his tie. "So what's the most significant challenge you face in your day-to-day life?"

Despite the fact that he had just said during his speech that wherever he goes he likes to ask people with disabilities that question, I was unprepared to respond. I told him that after 37 years I didn't think my disability was particularly challenging, I talked about our efforts to figure out the best ways to accommodate individuals with mental illness on our campus which was something I found challenging and launched into my pitch and the importance of recreation in combating prejudice. He listened patiently and with obvious interest. He was even understanding of the fact that I had encountered computer problems that morning and not been able to print my precious case statement and asked me to be sure to send it to him but he seemed disappointed. I felt that he had very much wanted to hear about the challenges in my life, and that he expected to find in my answer something that would help him in his work to end the oppression of persons with disabilities.

It took a couple of weeks and repeated phone calls to get the e-mail address of a vice president with the management company that represents Mr. Kennedy and receive confirmation that my case statement for the adaptive sports and inclusion initiative had been given to him. That was the last I heard about the matter. It's not the first time I've let my focus and zeal run roughshod over the genuine concerns and interests of another. In retrospect, I should have been looking for an opportunity to assist Mr. Kennedy in accomplishing his agenda, not merely one to further my own. My life has never been short on opportunities to learn humility.

After several months of pondering his question, I think that the most significant challenge posed by my disability in day-to-day life is convincing others that it represents an opportunity or rather a continuous stream of opportunities: opportunities to become stronger, opportunities to be more flexible, more patient, more understanding and ultimately perhaps more human. Among the many false dualities perpetuated by our society is the notion that one is either disabled or nondisabled when the reality is that human ability exists along an infinite continuum defined by an infinite sea of variables like age, class, physical environment, and privilege. As long as we continue to think of disability as a source of challenges we will find it challenging. When we come to understand and accept disability as an inherent feature of the human condition, then perhaps we will have the opportunity to create a society that anticipates and provides for the participation of individuals with the broadest array of human abilities and characteristics conceivable.

November 28, 2005

Meeting an angel on returning from Las Vegas

Meeting an angel on returning from Las Vegas

I was returning from a four-day trip to Las Vegas with a friend who was kind enough to go along not only to help celebrate my transition from consultant to staff member at a major university but also as my personal assistant. I'm a C-5 quadriplegic/tetraplegic as a result of a spinal cord injury when I was 14. I am paralyzed from the shoulders down and need assistance with some of the basics of life, like bathing, dressing etc.

We had played blackjack nearly around the clock for several days and upon deplaning I felt myself swept along by a tide of travelers until I was deposited beside my van in the parking structure. I listened to the radio for several minutes while the van warmed up. It didn't sound good. I was somewhat aware that we had landed in the middle of a blizzard but when you live in the Midwest you hear that word so overused that you tend not to put much credence in it, or at least I didn't that evening. Besides my friend and I had parted company in the airport and I didn't relish the possibility of spending another night in my wheelchair, especially if it wasn't going to be at a blackjack table.

As I left the airport complex and got on the freeway I thought briefly about turning around but decided to proceed telling myself that as long as I drove slowly everything would be okay. As I passed the exit for Belleville a few miles west of the airport I was having difficulty finding the road which might not have been so alarming if it wasn't I-94. There were no tracks ahead of me, just a smattering of vehicles randomly dotting a white plain. I passed a sign for a Super 8 Motel in the distance along the service drive, found the shoulder and navigated by the reassuring sound of the grooves cut into the pavement to awaken drowsy drivers vibrating under my tires, and drove to the next exit then doubled back.

I was greatly relieved to pull into the parking lot and only slightly annoyed at not being able to find a parking spot on side of the building by the main entrance. I pulled around to the back facing the highway and shut down my van. It might be another night in my wheelchair but at least it would be in a warm hotel room and not in a ditch along I-94. I was driving a full-size Ford Econoline van with a Crow River lift. I opened the doors, unfolded the lift platform and pulled onto it with my wheelchair. When I reached the ground a few seconds later my wheelchair was dead. I could not move, except to go up and down on the wheelchair lift.

There was only an occasional car on the freeway 100 yards or so away. I doubted anyone could hear me in the motel 50 feet away, I can't yell very loud and the wind was blowing fiercely. I felt resigned and imagined headlines like, "quadriplegic freezes to death 50 feet from motel." My cellphone was built into the dash console so that was no use. I remained calm, calling for help at regular intervals, resting in between.

After a few minutes a car pulled in and a man wearing a parka with a fur trimmed hood got out and came my way. I don't remember his voice or even if he said anything but I felt reassured by his presence and he seemed to know how to operate the wheelchair lift and my wheelchair. He was even able to locate the mechanism that disengages the motors to make it possible for someone to manually push my wheelchair, and to disengage it with ease which was remarkable because it's something that even experienced people have difficulty doing in the daylight under good conditions, let alone in the middle of a blizzard at 2 AM in a parking lot.

As the stranger pushed me through the lobby doors I strained to look back and above over my shoulder wanting to say thank you, but there was no one there. I asked the young lady behind the reception desk if she saw where the man who pushed me in went.

"I didn't see anyone," she replied.

Later, in my room I tried to recall exactly what he had said, but couldn't remember him using any particular words. I tried to remember exactly what his face looked like but it had been dark and it was obscured by the fur trim on the hood of his parka and all I could remember was shadow.