The more I try to make sense of this particular concept, the more confused I become. I'm hoping that writing about it will assist me, and am inviting you along for the ride. So strap yourselves in and smoking's ok. Just crack the window.
If 5% of Americans can be labeled "rich", the other 95% can be called "not rich". If that's the case, why do so many of the 95% see it as important to protect the 5%? I see this on a regular basis among friends on Facebook, and it drives me crazy! It happens in politics on all governmental levels. It's as if the 5% has hypnotized folks into believing their job is to protect them from any form of criticism.
Maybe it has to do with people hoping they will someday crack the 5% themselves, and are covering their asses proactively? Or could it be (as I was told recently) that "there's no crime in being successful", as if that's the reason the rich are rich. The truth is that a vast majority of these people were rich BEFORE they were even born. They were born into wealth. And if not, they were given a lot of help to get rich along the way.
Very few of these people ever had to bust their asses to be where they are. They may have busted other people's asses to get there, but theirs are without a bruise. It could be that many not-rich people have been busting their own asses all their lives for the few crumbs they've gotten as a reward. Now they hope that it all hasn't been in vane.
Well, that's our final destination for now. I hope you've found something to help you with your own questions and opinions. Before exiting, please return your seat to the upright position, and have a nice day.
Saturday, March 09, 2013
Wednesday, March 06, 2013
RIP Hugo, The "R"Word, and Alvin
Things seem to be coming at/to me in 3's these days. Not sure what that's about, but I 'll go with it. Today I want to write about 3 things that I believe are very important.
Hugo Chavez died yesterday. If you pay attention to main stream media you may see that as something positive. I don't. Hugo was a hero to me and millions of others who believe what's happening in the world with greed is bullshit. He fought for his country and all impovershed people throughout the world for a better place to live.
Today was the international day to spread the word to end the word. The word that is spoken of is "retarded". If the people who use this word so loosely were able to see the number of people it hurts, they might be able to bring anoother kind of death to it.
Finally, I think of the rock musician Alvin Lee; another of my heros. He wrote of the sickness that has been , and continues to hurt ALL OFF US today. He hated war and wrote "I'd Love To Change The World" back in the late 60's, which continues to be an important song today.
May all of these 3 thoughts find their way to graves that bring us all together.
Hugo Chavez died yesterday. If you pay attention to main stream media you may see that as something positive. I don't. Hugo was a hero to me and millions of others who believe what's happening in the world with greed is bullshit. He fought for his country and all impovershed people throughout the world for a better place to live.
Today was the international day to spread the word to end the word. The word that is spoken of is "retarded". If the people who use this word so loosely were able to see the number of people it hurts, they might be able to bring anoother kind of death to it.
Finally, I think of the rock musician Alvin Lee; another of my heros. He wrote of the sickness that has been , and continues to hurt ALL OFF US today. He hated war and wrote "I'd Love To Change The World" back in the late 60's, which continues to be an important song today.
May all of these 3 thoughts find their way to graves that bring us all together.
Monday, February 25, 2013
Red Carpet, Beyond the Gates, and 60 Minutes
Today I'm officially 57 years old! Never, in my wildest imaginings did I see myself alive at 57. I still find it hard to believe that I made it this far! But what I want to write about today, is not about my birthday, it's about my final day of being 56.
Yesterday was very interesting. From 4:00 PM until I awakened at 4:30 AM this morning. At 4 yesterday afternoon I sat on the couch in our living room and turned on the TV. It's something I do most days. The TV was tuned to the "Red Carpet" part of the Academy Award proceedings, so I decided to check it out. Mind blowing!
The co hosts were on some kind of a rooftop looking down on the Hollywood stars as they appeared. Then the show would swoop down to interviews with the stars; mostly about their attire. These people are (I'm convinced) so full of themselves, that they've crossed over into sheer clinical Narcissism! Posing with their Gucci dresses and handbags, like they were God's gifts to humanity. And when they spoke... It was so forced and phony, that I could only watch the show for 15 minutes, before I left... thoroughly disgusted.
At that point I though it wise to watch something a bit more "human", so I put on a movie I'd copied on my DVR some time back. The title is "Beyond the Gates", and it's a film about the genocide that occurred in Rwanda in 1994. How the UN "Peacekeepers" all but deserted the Tsutsis as they were murdered by Hutus with machetes and clubs. It was pretty upsetting until the very end, when it was revealed that several actors in the film were survivors of the genocide. They told you exactly what these people had lost, and I in turn "lost it" myself... crying for the next 10 minutes.
When I'd finally composed myself, I looked back at the TV, which was showing the most recent episode of 60 Minutes. Scott Pelley was interviewing this guy who wrote the scandalous book about killing Bin Laden a few years back. If I ever have to bat at softball again, I want old Scott to be the pitcher. It was indeed a surreal interview with the story becoming more UNbelievable at each turn. In the end, back on set, they talked about how "angry" the military is at this author for betraying state secrets, that they may sue him! While Bradley Manning rots away in prison (for being accused of doing the same thing) for over 1000 days, they are considering suing this clown. Alrighty...
Finally went to bed, exhausted by 8:00. Had several symbolic dreams... I was flying with an old crow which was the same size as me. I went to a place where there were "Hagots" and "Hurgs". They were 2 separate groups of people with the Hagots being deemed the superior group. I woke up at 11:59, knowing I was from neither group, and my job was to teach them that neither are they. Later I woke up saying out loud "trust" 4 times. I also was in a shallow river where the rocks on the bottom hurt my feet. I got out rather than continuing to hurt them. 3 or 4 others I was with continued in the shallow river. I ended up waking for good with the knowledge that THIS YEAR would lead me to a place I've never been. Wild, huh?
Yesterday was very interesting. From 4:00 PM until I awakened at 4:30 AM this morning. At 4 yesterday afternoon I sat on the couch in our living room and turned on the TV. It's something I do most days. The TV was tuned to the "Red Carpet" part of the Academy Award proceedings, so I decided to check it out. Mind blowing!
The co hosts were on some kind of a rooftop looking down on the Hollywood stars as they appeared. Then the show would swoop down to interviews with the stars; mostly about their attire. These people are (I'm convinced) so full of themselves, that they've crossed over into sheer clinical Narcissism! Posing with their Gucci dresses and handbags, like they were God's gifts to humanity. And when they spoke... It was so forced and phony, that I could only watch the show for 15 minutes, before I left... thoroughly disgusted.
At that point I though it wise to watch something a bit more "human", so I put on a movie I'd copied on my DVR some time back. The title is "Beyond the Gates", and it's a film about the genocide that occurred in Rwanda in 1994. How the UN "Peacekeepers" all but deserted the Tsutsis as they were murdered by Hutus with machetes and clubs. It was pretty upsetting until the very end, when it was revealed that several actors in the film were survivors of the genocide. They told you exactly what these people had lost, and I in turn "lost it" myself... crying for the next 10 minutes.
When I'd finally composed myself, I looked back at the TV, which was showing the most recent episode of 60 Minutes. Scott Pelley was interviewing this guy who wrote the scandalous book about killing Bin Laden a few years back. If I ever have to bat at softball again, I want old Scott to be the pitcher. It was indeed a surreal interview with the story becoming more UNbelievable at each turn. In the end, back on set, they talked about how "angry" the military is at this author for betraying state secrets, that they may sue him! While Bradley Manning rots away in prison (for being accused of doing the same thing) for over 1000 days, they are considering suing this clown. Alrighty...
Finally went to bed, exhausted by 8:00. Had several symbolic dreams... I was flying with an old crow which was the same size as me. I went to a place where there were "Hagots" and "Hurgs". They were 2 separate groups of people with the Hagots being deemed the superior group. I woke up at 11:59, knowing I was from neither group, and my job was to teach them that neither are they. Later I woke up saying out loud "trust" 4 times. I also was in a shallow river where the rocks on the bottom hurt my feet. I got out rather than continuing to hurt them. 3 or 4 others I was with continued in the shallow river. I ended up waking for good with the knowledge that THIS YEAR would lead me to a place I've never been. Wild, huh?
Saturday, February 23, 2013
How Dare I Ask For TRUTH??
“Our lives begin to end the day we become silent about things that matter.”
Martin Luther King Jr.
I used to have a wonderful career working with people who have
developmental disabilities. I’m not sure exactly why I loved my work as much as
I did, and I’m not sure why I felt it was the most important work that I could
do, but I did. Something that always seemed to be the MOST important part of
the work for me was watching for abuse and neglect of care for folks who could
often not speak for themselves.
I honestly believe that the end of my career came back in 2007,
when I asked a question regarding the accountability for the abuse and neglect
of folks as reported in The Oregonian newspaper. I became a “persona non grata”
in the field because I wanted to know the truth. What follows is how it all
panned out. I know it’s a lot to read, but I also know it’s well worth it.
Back on November 11th of 2007 I sent out the email below. This
was in response to an Oregonian article highlighting horrific behaviors of
people paid to protect folks with developmental disabilities in our state.
I was (and continue to be) very concerned that the accountability for these actions was being placed on the abusers, while the higher-ups in the system who run things and are paid to know what’s going on, were all but ignored. I believed then, as I do now, that what is needed is a Legislative Hearing to see if there was a cover up to preserve people’s jobs, rather than expose the truth to the light of day.
I sent this email to Tim Krall of The Oregon Association of Rehabilitation, Bob Joondeph of Oregon Advocacy Center, James Toewes of Seniors and People with Disabilities, Tina Kitchen of the Department of Human Services, Bill Lynch of the Oregon Council on Developmental Disabilities, and the Oregon Network through the DD Coalition. All these folks held the answers to questions that needed to be answered.
I also cc’d the letter to State Representatives Mary Nolan and Tina Kotek, along with Senators Avel Gordly, David Nelson, and Margaret Carter. I sent a copy to Bruce Goldberg, Director of DHS, and about 100 community members. My hope in doing that was I believed the letter might stir them to action. To the best of my knowledge I was wrong in both my hope and belief. In fact, I never heard back from any of these people regarding my letter.
We are living in a state where both accountability and transparency are virtually nonexistent. The people in Oregon are so concerned with not upsetting the apple cart (status quo), that they’d rather allow domestic violence, financial exploitation, medical neglect, and the abuse of developmentally disabled citizens to have gone unchecked than to seek accountability. That disturbs me to no end. And whoever reads this... what expectations do you have of those charged with protecting our most vulnerable? Is it ok with you that we just “move forward” without seeing why things went wrong in the first place, in order to TRULY move forward in a sane way? Are Oregonians in fact, cowards?
----------------------------------------
11/11/07
Dear Advocates,
We are nearing the end of the week following the article in Sunday’s Oregonian regarding the abuse, neglect, and exploitation of people with developmental disabilities who were deinstitutionalized in Oregon. I want to be perfectly clear that I believe people with disabilities should never have been forced to live in institutions, but it's equally clear that Oregon has not held up its end of the bargain. I continue to Google “abuse neglect Oregon” searching for some kind of statement by any, some, or all of you. I’ve found none. The closest I’ve come to finding anything at all about this issue is a letter to the editor of the Oregonian from Tim Kral, which I’ll address further in this email. The people I’ve cc’d have been sent this in order to have as broad a conversation as possible.
The article itself speaks volumes. The quotes from some of you raise questions that I will ask here. Feel free to leave me without the answers, which is customary in the culture of secrecy that is the developmental disability system in Oregon. The reason for this email is to begin an honest assessment of where we are in Oregon around the issues brought up in Michele Roberts’ article. Any enlightenment or clarification any of you might share with me is most welcomed.
The first most glaring question is who of you knew about the extent of the abuse and neglect prior to the interviews and ensuing article?
Since the data goes back to 2000, what actions did you take to remedy the situation PRIOR to the article?
What actions have been taken since the article?
Who wrote the Oregon Network’s bulletin of 3/26/07 with the talking points about how well the people from Fairview are doing living in the community?
Was the writer(s) aware of what the truth is when that bulletin went out?
Why is there no mention of this travesty on the DD Coalition/Oregon Network website?
Were negligent homicide or criminal neglect charges ever discussed or filed by any of you who knew about the David Pape/Natasha Thomas death?
Did any of you question the change of the Cause of Death from drowning to pneumonia?
Did any of you know Pape was being paid $18,000 per month for running his foster home?
I knew Paul Crawford. He was a very warm and outgoing man. In my last job I worked closely with one of his roommates from Rainbow. This man has some serious behavioral issues. I guess it was the staff I used to meet with monthly who were given the $5000 worth of “bonuses” his mother intended for the residents.
Were they ever required to return their “bonuses” to Paul’s mother?
Were any of his group home staff charged with anything?
Dr. Kitchens, do you REALLY believe that if someone vomits a black-colored substance that “most people” wouldn’t recognize it as possibly being blood, and take action?
Do you also really believe that the delay of getting the right language into a document relieves DHS of responsibility for immediately implementing a mandatory 911 training for caregivers?
Does anyone believe that Paul lying in a bed full of feces, vomit and urine; with enough urine on the floor to make someone almost slip is not criminal, but is what you’d expect from most people in the same situation?
If his workers were found to be responsible for his death, why were they still working at that home in 2006? The three I’m familiar with were all there longer than 3 years.
Mr. Lynch, you are quoted as saying; “It’s a tragedy. We really need to turn this around. This goes well beyond embarrassment”.
Why are you embarrassed?
Did you not know about this systemic travesty prior to Ms. Roberts talking to you?
You now have a state email address. Are you an employee of the state?
Why is there no mention of this travesty on the OCDD website?
Mr. Toews, you are quoted as saying; “We’ve tried to approach how we safely support people with pretty complex needs. We’ve done as good if not a better job than most states on trying to drill down on that”.
Is it not true that when I contacted you in regard to a grievance against Multnomah County staff about a profoundly developmentally disabled woman last year, you allowed them to circumvent the Oregon Administrative Rules?
Was that “drilling down” on safely supporting her needs?
Are you afraid that now that the truth has been told, Oregon will not be looked upon as the model state you often talk about?
Why is there no mention of this travesty on the DHS website?
Mr. Joondeph, did you tell Ms. Roberts that both you personally, and Oregon Advocacy Center investigate abuse and neglect allegations?
How many do you personally investigate each year?
Did you tell Ms. Roberts the County licenses foster homes, when in reality the state does that job?
Did you tell her county case managers do investigations, when in reality Protective Services and your agency does that job?
Does OAC plan to file a class action against the state which will prevent INDIVIDUALS from stepping forward to sue?
If so, does OAC plan to settle out of court?
If so, will it result in agreeing to wait for reform?
If so, will OAC set up an Ombudsman program as part of that settlement?
Would that expand your powers in Oregon?
Why is there no mention of this travesty on the OAC website?
Mr Kral, in your letter to the editor of the Oregonian you wrote “The Oregon Rehabilitation Association represents community nonprofit organizations providing group homes”.
How many of these organizations does ORA represent?
You mentioned that ORA “supports immediate steps to enhance the care and living conditions of individuals with disabilities.”
As the “representative,” is it not your place to "demand" rather than "support"?
Was there a step ORA could have taken when the Legislature only gave DD Services 20 million instead of the 65 million dollars originally requested of them last year?
Why did you fail to mention that in your letter?
Did you mention the abuse and neglect travesty when you made your request?
Would that step have assisted you in enhancing the care and living conditions of people with disabilities?
You wrote that wages for group home workers are low. Is that also the case for group home representatives such as ORA?
Why is there such a disparity?
You said turnover is high with group home staff. Is the same true with representatives?
Why is that not the same?
How much time do you actually spend with the individuals living in these group homes?
You wrote that workers in group homes need to be more accountable. To whom do they need to be more accountable?
Do representatives such as ORA, OAC, OCDD, The Oregon DD Coalition, and DHS need to be more accountable?
Finally, you wrote that “the vast majority of former Fairview residents have enjoyed a much higher quality of life since leaving.”
I don’t believe that this “glass is 4/5 full” philosophy makes one bit of difference to the 1 in 5 who have been seriously abused and/or neglected. If you look at the numbers closely, nearly 50% have had abuse and or neglect charges substantiated, with many more alleged. I’m certain that being in the community beats being at Fairview, but by how much when you run this high a risk of being abused and/or neglected?
Who exactly are ORA’s state partners?
Did DHS hide the data around abuse and neglect or did no one ask?
Are you an employee of the state?
Why is there no mention of this travesty on the ORA website?
These questions are hard. I am well aware of that. However, in light of the article written by Michelle Roberts, I believe hard questions need to be asked. My questions are not “personal attacks”. They are, in fact, questions that need to be answered if system reform is to occur. It’s obvious that system reform that includes real accountability must occur if we are going to do anything about the neglect, abuse, and exploitation of people with developmental disabilities in Oregon. The conversation must begin immediately, and must include caregivers, individuals receiving care, their families, friends and personal advocates. It must not happen behind closed doors, among a secret society that has yet to truly acknowledge the urgency.
Sincerely,
David McDonald
DAWG Oregon
I was (and continue to be) very concerned that the accountability for these actions was being placed on the abusers, while the higher-ups in the system who run things and are paid to know what’s going on, were all but ignored. I believed then, as I do now, that what is needed is a Legislative Hearing to see if there was a cover up to preserve people’s jobs, rather than expose the truth to the light of day.
I sent this email to Tim Krall of The Oregon Association of Rehabilitation, Bob Joondeph of Oregon Advocacy Center, James Toewes of Seniors and People with Disabilities, Tina Kitchen of the Department of Human Services, Bill Lynch of the Oregon Council on Developmental Disabilities, and the Oregon Network through the DD Coalition. All these folks held the answers to questions that needed to be answered.
I also cc’d the letter to State Representatives Mary Nolan and Tina Kotek, along with Senators Avel Gordly, David Nelson, and Margaret Carter. I sent a copy to Bruce Goldberg, Director of DHS, and about 100 community members. My hope in doing that was I believed the letter might stir them to action. To the best of my knowledge I was wrong in both my hope and belief. In fact, I never heard back from any of these people regarding my letter.
We are living in a state where both accountability and transparency are virtually nonexistent. The people in Oregon are so concerned with not upsetting the apple cart (status quo), that they’d rather allow domestic violence, financial exploitation, medical neglect, and the abuse of developmentally disabled citizens to have gone unchecked than to seek accountability. That disturbs me to no end. And whoever reads this... what expectations do you have of those charged with protecting our most vulnerable? Is it ok with you that we just “move forward” without seeing why things went wrong in the first place, in order to TRULY move forward in a sane way? Are Oregonians in fact, cowards?
----------------------------------------
11/11/07
Dear Advocates,
We are nearing the end of the week following the article in Sunday’s Oregonian regarding the abuse, neglect, and exploitation of people with developmental disabilities who were deinstitutionalized in Oregon. I want to be perfectly clear that I believe people with disabilities should never have been forced to live in institutions, but it's equally clear that Oregon has not held up its end of the bargain. I continue to Google “abuse neglect Oregon” searching for some kind of statement by any, some, or all of you. I’ve found none. The closest I’ve come to finding anything at all about this issue is a letter to the editor of the Oregonian from Tim Kral, which I’ll address further in this email. The people I’ve cc’d have been sent this in order to have as broad a conversation as possible.
The article itself speaks volumes. The quotes from some of you raise questions that I will ask here. Feel free to leave me without the answers, which is customary in the culture of secrecy that is the developmental disability system in Oregon. The reason for this email is to begin an honest assessment of where we are in Oregon around the issues brought up in Michele Roberts’ article. Any enlightenment or clarification any of you might share with me is most welcomed.
The first most glaring question is who of you knew about the extent of the abuse and neglect prior to the interviews and ensuing article?
Since the data goes back to 2000, what actions did you take to remedy the situation PRIOR to the article?
What actions have been taken since the article?
Who wrote the Oregon Network’s bulletin of 3/26/07 with the talking points about how well the people from Fairview are doing living in the community?
Was the writer(s) aware of what the truth is when that bulletin went out?
Why is there no mention of this travesty on the DD Coalition/Oregon Network website?
Were negligent homicide or criminal neglect charges ever discussed or filed by any of you who knew about the David Pape/Natasha Thomas death?
Did any of you question the change of the Cause of Death from drowning to pneumonia?
Did any of you know Pape was being paid $18,000 per month for running his foster home?
I knew Paul Crawford. He was a very warm and outgoing man. In my last job I worked closely with one of his roommates from Rainbow. This man has some serious behavioral issues. I guess it was the staff I used to meet with monthly who were given the $5000 worth of “bonuses” his mother intended for the residents.
Were they ever required to return their “bonuses” to Paul’s mother?
Were any of his group home staff charged with anything?
Dr. Kitchens, do you REALLY believe that if someone vomits a black-colored substance that “most people” wouldn’t recognize it as possibly being blood, and take action?
Do you also really believe that the delay of getting the right language into a document relieves DHS of responsibility for immediately implementing a mandatory 911 training for caregivers?
Does anyone believe that Paul lying in a bed full of feces, vomit and urine; with enough urine on the floor to make someone almost slip is not criminal, but is what you’d expect from most people in the same situation?
If his workers were found to be responsible for his death, why were they still working at that home in 2006? The three I’m familiar with were all there longer than 3 years.
Mr. Lynch, you are quoted as saying; “It’s a tragedy. We really need to turn this around. This goes well beyond embarrassment”.
Why are you embarrassed?
Did you not know about this systemic travesty prior to Ms. Roberts talking to you?
You now have a state email address. Are you an employee of the state?
Why is there no mention of this travesty on the OCDD website?
Mr. Toews, you are quoted as saying; “We’ve tried to approach how we safely support people with pretty complex needs. We’ve done as good if not a better job than most states on trying to drill down on that”.
Is it not true that when I contacted you in regard to a grievance against Multnomah County staff about a profoundly developmentally disabled woman last year, you allowed them to circumvent the Oregon Administrative Rules?
Was that “drilling down” on safely supporting her needs?
Are you afraid that now that the truth has been told, Oregon will not be looked upon as the model state you often talk about?
Why is there no mention of this travesty on the DHS website?
Mr. Joondeph, did you tell Ms. Roberts that both you personally, and Oregon Advocacy Center investigate abuse and neglect allegations?
How many do you personally investigate each year?
Did you tell Ms. Roberts the County licenses foster homes, when in reality the state does that job?
Did you tell her county case managers do investigations, when in reality Protective Services and your agency does that job?
Does OAC plan to file a class action against the state which will prevent INDIVIDUALS from stepping forward to sue?
If so, does OAC plan to settle out of court?
If so, will it result in agreeing to wait for reform?
If so, will OAC set up an Ombudsman program as part of that settlement?
Would that expand your powers in Oregon?
Why is there no mention of this travesty on the OAC website?
Mr Kral, in your letter to the editor of the Oregonian you wrote “The Oregon Rehabilitation Association represents community nonprofit organizations providing group homes”.
How many of these organizations does ORA represent?
You mentioned that ORA “supports immediate steps to enhance the care and living conditions of individuals with disabilities.”
As the “representative,” is it not your place to "demand" rather than "support"?
Was there a step ORA could have taken when the Legislature only gave DD Services 20 million instead of the 65 million dollars originally requested of them last year?
Why did you fail to mention that in your letter?
Did you mention the abuse and neglect travesty when you made your request?
Would that step have assisted you in enhancing the care and living conditions of people with disabilities?
You wrote that wages for group home workers are low. Is that also the case for group home representatives such as ORA?
Why is there such a disparity?
You said turnover is high with group home staff. Is the same true with representatives?
Why is that not the same?
How much time do you actually spend with the individuals living in these group homes?
You wrote that workers in group homes need to be more accountable. To whom do they need to be more accountable?
Do representatives such as ORA, OAC, OCDD, The Oregon DD Coalition, and DHS need to be more accountable?
Finally, you wrote that “the vast majority of former Fairview residents have enjoyed a much higher quality of life since leaving.”
I don’t believe that this “glass is 4/5 full” philosophy makes one bit of difference to the 1 in 5 who have been seriously abused and/or neglected. If you look at the numbers closely, nearly 50% have had abuse and or neglect charges substantiated, with many more alleged. I’m certain that being in the community beats being at Fairview, but by how much when you run this high a risk of being abused and/or neglected?
Who exactly are ORA’s state partners?
Did DHS hide the data around abuse and neglect or did no one ask?
Are you an employee of the state?
Why is there no mention of this travesty on the ORA website?
These questions are hard. I am well aware of that. However, in light of the article written by Michelle Roberts, I believe hard questions need to be asked. My questions are not “personal attacks”. They are, in fact, questions that need to be answered if system reform is to occur. It’s obvious that system reform that includes real accountability must occur if we are going to do anything about the neglect, abuse, and exploitation of people with developmental disabilities in Oregon. The conversation must begin immediately, and must include caregivers, individuals receiving care, their families, friends and personal advocates. It must not happen behind closed doors, among a secret society that has yet to truly acknowledge the urgency.
Sincerely,
David McDonald
DAWG Oregon
Wednesday, February 20, 2013
The Wizard of Words
I heard one of the most profound statements I’ve heard in years
a few weeks back. It came from one of my all-time favorite movies “The Wizard
of Oz”.
It was when Dorothy first met the Scarecrow. She asked him what
was wrong, as he was hanging on his post. His reply was that he was upset
because he didn’t have a brain. She told him it was ok that he didn’t have a
brain, but wondered how he could talk without one.
His reply was classic! He said “I don’t know, but people talk
all the time without having a brain”. Never have truer words been spoken.
Wednesday, February 06, 2013
My One Regret In Life
It seems that one loss or one win (in early years), can sometimes map out some one's future. I think that's what happened to me during my high school years. I suffered a major loss that set in motion a lot of negativity for me in the years to follow.
Going back to a few years earlier, I can tell you I always felt different. I felt like there was no place for me, where I could fit in. I could speculate as to why that was the case, but opening up this particular can of worms will suffice for now.
I'd always played sports in my youth. My favorites were basketball, baseball, and football. Typical for kids in my hometown. I was pretty good at each one, and divided my time fairly evenly among the three. I played organized baseball from the time I was 7 or 8. Organized football came into my life a bit later at 9 or 10. And organized basketball began in 6th grade. Soon as I tried it I fell in love with the sport, and all but gave up on the others.
Basketball became everything to me. If I wasn't on a court somewhere, I could be found daydreaming about playing. The season itself was too short, so I practiced any time and anywhere I could to ready myself for next season. I'd guess that 80% of my friends liked playing basketball, but I loved it. By the time I reached high school I was secretly dreaming of someday playing in the NBA.
In my town at the time, basketball was probably the most popular sport. Southampton, NY, was known throughout the state and beyond, to be a hotbed for basketball talent and success. The 60's and 70's were the years I'm talking about here. Anyway; to play for the Mariners at that time was an honor that 24 boys enjoyed each year. Making the Varsity or J.V. teams was no easy task.
As a freshman, I went out for the J.V. team, and actually made it! I was thrilled beyond words, and looked forward to putting on a uniform and playing. I did good. In several games I was the 6th or 7th man, and got a chance to start one game. My coach was an odd fellow. He didn't seem able to relate to kids, and always acted unhappy. I tried not to let it bother me, but no matter what I, or other guys on the team did, was never enough. In fact, I'm sure our team only lost 1 game all season.
Here's where the story gets weird. I was close friends with 3 or 4 guys on the team. Beside basketball, we often hung out socially. In the locker room at the end of the last game of the season, one of these guys LOUDLY said "Hey Davy, are we gonna get stoned before practice next year?" I said nothing in reply as the coach had just walked in and surely heard him. As usual the coach said nothing, but gave me an icey stare. The crazy thing is that I didn't even smoke pot at the time!
The following year I went out for the team again. I was a bit nervous but figured if the coach had concerns, hopefully he'd have said something to one or both of us. TryOuts was a 3 day process where the names of the guys who made the team would be posted at the end, on the locker room door. Within I hour of the first day, I sprained my ankle, and spent the next week on crutches. I talked to my friends who assured me that I'd make the team based on the previous year's accomplishment.
When the list of who made the team went up, my name was not on it. I went to the coach's office and asked why. I reminded him of how well I'd done the year before, but he didn't say much. When I was done all he said was "If I put you on the team, who should I take off?" If he expected me to rattle off names of kids I was better than, I wasn't about to. I think he knew that before he even asked me. So that was that. No basketball for me... for that year anyway.
I was very pissed off about not making the team, and began working on my game harder than If I'd made the team. I worked so hard that by the time the next years TryOuts came around I was ready! I had better be. This was for the Varsity! From the first minute of the first day, I was good. Not to blow my horn, but I was great! All throughout I was absolutely one of the best players on the court. I was fast, smart, smooth and stood out. The varsity coach was even using me as an example of how to play the game right. It felt good!
This year at the end of the 3rd day the coach gathered everyone together to sit on the bleachers. He began to speak..." I know that some of you dribble and pass better than others" as he looked directly at me... "but I have to think of the reputation of our school. Not all of you are going to make this team, and thanks for trying out, but I have the reputation to think of first". That was all I needed to hear. Sure enough, my name didn't show up on the door and I was crushed.
Did I take it hard? Damn right I took it extremely hard. Those coaches STOLE MY DREAM! From then on I lost the ability to care too much about anything. I let resentment (bordering on hatred) rule my life for the next 15 or so years. I finally found my way out (slowly) in my early 30's, but the one big regret in life is how I let that experience control me for so many years.
Going back to a few years earlier, I can tell you I always felt different. I felt like there was no place for me, where I could fit in. I could speculate as to why that was the case, but opening up this particular can of worms will suffice for now.
I'd always played sports in my youth. My favorites were basketball, baseball, and football. Typical for kids in my hometown. I was pretty good at each one, and divided my time fairly evenly among the three. I played organized baseball from the time I was 7 or 8. Organized football came into my life a bit later at 9 or 10. And organized basketball began in 6th grade. Soon as I tried it I fell in love with the sport, and all but gave up on the others.
Basketball became everything to me. If I wasn't on a court somewhere, I could be found daydreaming about playing. The season itself was too short, so I practiced any time and anywhere I could to ready myself for next season. I'd guess that 80% of my friends liked playing basketball, but I loved it. By the time I reached high school I was secretly dreaming of someday playing in the NBA.
In my town at the time, basketball was probably the most popular sport. Southampton, NY, was known throughout the state and beyond, to be a hotbed for basketball talent and success. The 60's and 70's were the years I'm talking about here. Anyway; to play for the Mariners at that time was an honor that 24 boys enjoyed each year. Making the Varsity or J.V. teams was no easy task.
As a freshman, I went out for the J.V. team, and actually made it! I was thrilled beyond words, and looked forward to putting on a uniform and playing. I did good. In several games I was the 6th or 7th man, and got a chance to start one game. My coach was an odd fellow. He didn't seem able to relate to kids, and always acted unhappy. I tried not to let it bother me, but no matter what I, or other guys on the team did, was never enough. In fact, I'm sure our team only lost 1 game all season.
Here's where the story gets weird. I was close friends with 3 or 4 guys on the team. Beside basketball, we often hung out socially. In the locker room at the end of the last game of the season, one of these guys LOUDLY said "Hey Davy, are we gonna get stoned before practice next year?" I said nothing in reply as the coach had just walked in and surely heard him. As usual the coach said nothing, but gave me an icey stare. The crazy thing is that I didn't even smoke pot at the time!
The following year I went out for the team again. I was a bit nervous but figured if the coach had concerns, hopefully he'd have said something to one or both of us. TryOuts was a 3 day process where the names of the guys who made the team would be posted at the end, on the locker room door. Within I hour of the first day, I sprained my ankle, and spent the next week on crutches. I talked to my friends who assured me that I'd make the team based on the previous year's accomplishment.
When the list of who made the team went up, my name was not on it. I went to the coach's office and asked why. I reminded him of how well I'd done the year before, but he didn't say much. When I was done all he said was "If I put you on the team, who should I take off?" If he expected me to rattle off names of kids I was better than, I wasn't about to. I think he knew that before he even asked me. So that was that. No basketball for me... for that year anyway.
I was very pissed off about not making the team, and began working on my game harder than If I'd made the team. I worked so hard that by the time the next years TryOuts came around I was ready! I had better be. This was for the Varsity! From the first minute of the first day, I was good. Not to blow my horn, but I was great! All throughout I was absolutely one of the best players on the court. I was fast, smart, smooth and stood out. The varsity coach was even using me as an example of how to play the game right. It felt good!
This year at the end of the 3rd day the coach gathered everyone together to sit on the bleachers. He began to speak..." I know that some of you dribble and pass better than others" as he looked directly at me... "but I have to think of the reputation of our school. Not all of you are going to make this team, and thanks for trying out, but I have the reputation to think of first". That was all I needed to hear. Sure enough, my name didn't show up on the door and I was crushed.
Did I take it hard? Damn right I took it extremely hard. Those coaches STOLE MY DREAM! From then on I lost the ability to care too much about anything. I let resentment (bordering on hatred) rule my life for the next 15 or so years. I finally found my way out (slowly) in my early 30's, but the one big regret in life is how I let that experience control me for so many years.
Wednesday, January 30, 2013
So Much More To Come!
This is the story I sent to John Hopkins University Press, a synopsis of what has happened so far regarding my nephew who has autism. They asked me to contribute an article on transitioning a person with autism into adulthood for their "Narrative Inquiry in Bioethics" Journal, and this was my contribution. Hope you find it a good read!
I took over the parental responsibilities for my 16 year old nephew who has profound autism when my sister passed away in 2000. She'd been a single mom for most of his life. I had a good idea what my wife and I could expect for challenges, because I'd been working with people having developmental disabilities (including autism) for 17 years. The degree of some of those challenges, I wasn't quite so ready for.
J. had very few skills at the time he came to live with us. When he arrived in Portland from San Francisco we first found him sitting on the floor in the airport clutching a blanket and rocking, with his eyes closed. I looked at my wife, and said, "This should be interesting" -- and it certainly has been. At least for the first year and a half. That's when I began to fulfill the promise I made to my sister on her death bed. That no matter what, I'd help J. make the transition from boyhood to manhood.
I had a feeling that there might be some strain on the home front, since my 14 year old daughter would need to get used to having another kid in the house, but she was only there on a limited basis. She spent more time at her mom's house than at ours.I was truly surprised on how quickly Harmony caught on to what we were trying to do with J. She was an only child, but demonstrated a love and understanding well beyond her years. She was much more helpful and accepting than I could have ever hoped for.
J. had a vocabulary of around 30 words when he first arrived in Portland. He expressed himself by using a combination of speech, his personal system of finger signing, gestures and pulling people by the arm to show them what he wanted and/or needed. He had no real concept of showering or taking care of his grooming independently. It was as though he couldn't see himself in the mirror. When things weren't going the way he wanted them to he would vomit. His most worrisome behavior was that he had a habit of touching women's hair, whether he knew them or not. I quickly realized that this could potentially cause him severe problems in the community!
We had enrolled him in a Portland Public Schools high school, as we understood the need for him to be educated. Things didn't go well from the beginning. It seemed as if all the students in his classroom were spending much more time being entertained than educated. Every other day it seemed like there was a party for no good reason, while we expected reading, writing and arithmetic to be the focus -- after all, in California he'd been working on simple algebra. We decided a communication log should go back and forth between home and school, as a way to hold their feet to the fire. It only proved what we suspected. They had little intention of providing a Free Appropriate Public Education (FAPE) as required by law. Following several IEP meetings, where eventually they called in their attorney, we knew something had to give.
At home we were doing our best to create a safe and loving environment, where the expectation that he grow up being responsible and accountable was ever present. Within the first month, he was no longer vomiting, as the understanding was when one throws up, they are obviously sick, and need to go to bed AFTER cleaning up their mess. He didn't like the whole cause/effect of that. We taught him to shake hands ONE time with females, and leave their hair alone. That took three months for him. I worked with him every morning on his grooming process, coaching him to look at himself in the mirror, which took six months for him to do independently. Lastly, we narrowed down his communication style to talking. If he could say 30 words, he could learn to say at least 300. We still work with him on that, but he's already gone from 30 into the thousands, and stringing separate words into sentences. What we found out about my nephew/son was that he would rise to the level of expectation placed upon him!
We knew there was a lot for him to learn, so after 1 1/2 years wasted in PPS, we finally took the district to court in Due Process. We knew that Special Education Law would be key if we were to win, but we also knew we had enough evidence to prove that they had neglected him educationally, so we didn't bother to hire an expensive lawyer. Instead, we studied voraciously to prepare ourselves with what we knew could get very ugly. My wife and I represented him ourselves, and after three days of hostile PPS testimony, the Administrative Law Judge found on J.'s behalf. She awarded him $19,000 to be used out of the school district for educational purposes. We signed him up with Sylvan Learning Center, where for the next year and a half he learned to read, write and do math. In fact, he did so well in math that when we asked if he'd like to go further with it, he emphatically let us know he would.
By now J. was 20, and it was time to get a job in the real world. We looked around until we found the setting that would best suit his needs at the time. He was set up with Goodwill Industries, where J. immediately excelled. He began making some serious money on a part time basis. Almost 300 dollars every two weeks, and as his Rep. Payee, I needed to figure out how to spend his earnings, so he wouldn't lose his Medicaid eligibility. What he seemed to be lacking more than anything else at this point were people his own age to hang out with and do fun activities with. I found an agency called TRIPS, Inc. that specializes in providing vacations to folks who have various developmental disabilities. Many of these people are J.'s age, so I figured we'd give it a shot. He absolutely loved it! The key to J.'s happiness is travel! For the past nine years he's literally been all over the world, from Hawaii to Alaska to Greece to Mexico to Portugal, to ten or so states on the continent. You could say he's a world wide traveler. We use the earnings from his job (still at Goodwill) to finance his trips, which only serves to motivate him to work hard. He gets in 3 to 4 trips each year. We often tangle with Goodwill to make his employment experience more realistic, and will continue to do so. We don't believe that ANYONE should work for less than the minimum wage in America. Though J. accomplishes this, we believe it's our duty to ensure his peers also do.
I guess this is a good place in J.'s story to tell you about his living situation. When he moved in with us, it came with the understanding that if he wished to live elsewhere, he could do so after he turned 18. As his grandmother used to say to me as a child, "Actions speak louder than words." Just before he turned 21, his behavior at home was telling us he may want to move on in his life. He began breaking some of the rules we'd set up for him, and had successfully been following for years. When I'd call him on it, he'd look at me with expectant eyes and ask, "New house?" I guess he was weary of dealing with Sergeant Uncle David's constant riding, and when I told him we'd start looking, the bad behavior stopped. J. was obviously ready to fly the coop.
We began looking at group homes referred to us by his County Case Manager. That was VERY disappointing! There seemed to be little concern for finding a place that met his individual needs, and a lot of concern with filling vacant group home slots. Some of the places they sent us to were filled with old people, and others who would not challenge his growth. These homes had no one even close to his age group. We checked out 5 or 6 of these referrals and then began looking on our own. As time went by, I could tell J. was becoming frustrated. He began to withdraw inside himself, which was of great concern to my wife and I. Finally, I gave up, and moved him into what was called Temporary Foster Care. That move turned out to be one of the best I ever made for J.!
The house was in a nice country setting, run by a couple of men just slightly older than J.They were friendly, warm, and welcoming. The other residents were right around J.'s age. They were all very involved in Special Olympics. Within a month the managers agreed that they also believed it was the right setting for J. When I contacted J.'s case manager to tell her we didn't need to look any further, she told me he couldn't live there permanently because it's reserved for people in crisis situations. This started a fairly intense argument between myself and the County. We argued for self-directed living, the whole age thing, and the fact that this was what J. wanted. What I eventually did was collect letters from 28 different people who knew J. and his individualized needs. The majority were professionals in the developmental disability field, family and friends. With this sort of pressure -- and a promise that I would take this story to the media -- the County was put into a very uncomfortable position, and shortly after, ended the standoff. J. could stay in the home of his choosing.
Once he became acclimated to his new home, we enrolled him into community college, with math and computers as the focus. We hired a few experienced tutors to work with him at school, making sure he understood what was going on in the classroom. He wound up breezing through his classes, and his grades were excellent. He also began attending dances each month with his housemates, and now has a very full and exciting life. Of course, he still comes over to our house each month on a Sunday to watch sports on TV with Uncle David, while Aunt Suzanne whips up his favorite meals in the kitchen.
J. was diagnosed as being low-range mentally retarded, with no chance of ever speaking, or having a life beyond mere existence. But, we NEVER gave up on his potential. We've found that diagnoses are little more than labels, stuck to people so that others feel comfortable in dealing with them. J. has taught us as much about ourselves and the "system" as we have taught him. He's made his transition to adulthood like a true champ! Because the people who love him put in the time and energy to ensure he'd go as far as he could, he has. And the beautiful thing about it, is there's MUCH more to come!
Wednesday, January 16, 2013
Who's Kidding Who?
Did you see the President's presidentation on gun control today? He had 4 kids who had written him letters on the stage to validate his concerns. I found it to be propoganda of the worst kind, reminding me of how terrorists are always accused of using civilians as "human shields" in times of battle.
Interestingly enough, as soon as he was done I went on Facebook where I ran into the following post from a friend... "The state must declare the child to be the most precious treasure of the people. As long as the government is perceived as working for the benefit of the children, the people will happily endure almost any curtailment of liberty and almost any deprivation." - Mein Kampf. Some heavy shit, huh?
I'm also keenly aware of what is being done to children in the Middle East with the use of drones. Does the President not think these children are also children? Or are they simply out of sight and out of mind for this president and other like-minded dults?
Interestingly enough, as soon as he was done I went on Facebook where I ran into the following post from a friend... "The state must declare the child to be the most precious treasure of the people. As long as the government is perceived as working for the benefit of the children, the people will happily endure almost any curtailment of liberty and almost any deprivation." - Mein Kampf. Some heavy shit, huh?
I'm also keenly aware of what is being done to children in the Middle East with the use of drones. Does the President not think these children are also children? Or are they simply out of sight and out of mind for this president and other like-minded dults?
Saturday, December 29, 2012
War vs. Cancer
With medical advances in the last several years, it's reported that cancer is taking fewer and fewer victims all the time. That's a very good thing! It's taken a lot of research and billions of dollars to accomplish. My father died from cancer as well as several other people I knew.
On a weekly basis one or more of my friends on Facebook will post something about hating cancer, and the loved ones they've lost. Occasionally, I'll repost what they've posted, because they often ask you to, and I don't want to hurt their feelings by not doing so.
Last night, I watched a film titled "War Horse", which although it was pretty predictable, was still good. In watching I tapped into how much I hate war, especially the killing of innocent people. Not sure why it infuriates me so, but it absolutely does!
It's hard for me to "hate" cancer. It's a part of the nature of being human. We are prone to disease, and when we get sick, we do what we can to get well again. But what about war? It's an extremely UN-natural thing for humans to build and possess weapons that will take the lives of others. I'm 100% convinced of this. Yet, we do little to prevent war. We do even less to end war. And I'm STILL waiting to see a post on Facebook that says; "I HATE WAR!! If you do too, please repost for 1 hour on your timeline. I know some of my friends will do this".
On a weekly basis one or more of my friends on Facebook will post something about hating cancer, and the loved ones they've lost. Occasionally, I'll repost what they've posted, because they often ask you to, and I don't want to hurt their feelings by not doing so.
Last night, I watched a film titled "War Horse", which although it was pretty predictable, was still good. In watching I tapped into how much I hate war, especially the killing of innocent people. Not sure why it infuriates me so, but it absolutely does!
It's hard for me to "hate" cancer. It's a part of the nature of being human. We are prone to disease, and when we get sick, we do what we can to get well again. But what about war? It's an extremely UN-natural thing for humans to build and possess weapons that will take the lives of others. I'm 100% convinced of this. Yet, we do little to prevent war. We do even less to end war. And I'm STILL waiting to see a post on Facebook that says; "I HATE WAR!! If you do too, please repost for 1 hour on your timeline. I know some of my friends will do this".
Monday, December 17, 2012
Children
There is so much talk about the children who were murdered in Newtown Connecticut these days. It only seems fitting that I should write about it on my blog. After all, I also have strong feelings about children AND gun control.
It amazes me that so many Americans are outraged about these 20 kids, but have little to no compassion for children in other parts of the world. I tend to believe that once again people are consumed by the idea of American exceptionalism. So consumed, that it's caused many to become blinded to the issues that face the rest of the world.
According to UNICEF http://www.unicef.org/mdg/childmortality.html, over 29,000 kids die daily throughout the world. In part they say;
"More than 70 per cent of almost 11 million child deaths every year are attributable to six causes: diarrhoea, malaria, neonatal infection, pneumonia, preterm delivery, or lack of oxygen at birth.
These deaths occur mainly in the developing world. An Ethiopian child is 30 times more likely to die by his or her fifth birthday than a child in Western Europe. Among deaths in children, South-central Asia has the highest number of neonatal deaths, while sub-Saharan Africa has the highest rates. Two-thirds of deaths occur in just 10 countries.
And the majority are preventable. Some of the deaths occur from illnesses like measles, malaria or tetanus. Others result indirectly from marginalization, conflict and HIV/AIDS. Malnutrition and the lack of safe water and sanitation contribute to half of all these children’s deaths.
But disease isn’t inevitable, nor do children with these diseases need to die."
It's not clear how many children die from fire arms, but I'm certain that number is high too. With that information before someone, how could they possibly see what happened last week as a major tragedy? Is it because these children were mainly white Americans from upperclass neighborhoods, while the children who die from what UNICEF has identified are from mostly 3rd world countries?
It amazes me that so many Americans are outraged about these 20 kids, but have little to no compassion for children in other parts of the world. I tend to believe that once again people are consumed by the idea of American exceptionalism. So consumed, that it's caused many to become blinded to the issues that face the rest of the world.
According to UNICEF http://www.unicef.org/mdg/childmortality.html, over 29,000 kids die daily throughout the world. In part they say;
"More than 70 per cent of almost 11 million child deaths every year are attributable to six causes: diarrhoea, malaria, neonatal infection, pneumonia, preterm delivery, or lack of oxygen at birth.
These deaths occur mainly in the developing world. An Ethiopian child is 30 times more likely to die by his or her fifth birthday than a child in Western Europe. Among deaths in children, South-central Asia has the highest number of neonatal deaths, while sub-Saharan Africa has the highest rates. Two-thirds of deaths occur in just 10 countries.
And the majority are preventable. Some of the deaths occur from illnesses like measles, malaria or tetanus. Others result indirectly from marginalization, conflict and HIV/AIDS. Malnutrition and the lack of safe water and sanitation contribute to half of all these children’s deaths.
But disease isn’t inevitable, nor do children with these diseases need to die."
It's not clear how many children die from fire arms, but I'm certain that number is high too. With that information before someone, how could they possibly see what happened last week as a major tragedy? Is it because these children were mainly white Americans from upperclass neighborhoods, while the children who die from what UNICEF has identified are from mostly 3rd world countries?
Monday, December 10, 2012
I'm Too Old For Christmas (sung to the tune of "I'll Be Home for Christmas")
I’m too old for Christmas
It’s just too damned hard
Setting up the Christmas tree
And lights out in the yard
Christmas eve will find me
Laid out on the floor
I’m too old for Christmas
Can’t do it any more
I’m too old for Christmas
I’m not Santa Claus
All my kids are grown ups now
They come around just because
I’m too old for Christmas
Though I still believe
I’m too old for Christmas
So wake me New Year’s Eve.
Thursday, December 06, 2012
Say It REALLY Loud!
Somehow, unbeknownst to me, I've become inacstrictably tied to a woman named Julie Something or other on my blog. If you happen to run into her from here,( I swear I'm not a conservative republican in case you were wondering).
It's kind of like we write opposite opinions on EVERY THING! Pretty strange, if you ask me. I have some friends who are conservatives. Never fails that they have no qualms about making fools of themselves with their obvious lack of education coupled with their willingness to expose it in writing.
I actually love those people! They demonstrate all I've been talking about for the past 10 years. Thank you. You know who you are.
It's kind of like we write opposite opinions on EVERY THING! Pretty strange, if you ask me. I have some friends who are conservatives. Never fails that they have no qualms about making fools of themselves with their obvious lack of education coupled with their willingness to expose it in writing.
I actually love those people! They demonstrate all I've been talking about for the past 10 years. Thank you. You know who you are.
Saturday, December 01, 2012
Almost Unanimous
There's just no denying it. Life is changing here in the United States, and across the whole world. With technology leading the way, it would be impossible to ignore the facts. Why then do we insist in hanging on to the old ways, that no longer fit? It doesn't make sense to me.
Government has traditionally made decisions on what's best for us. What a ridiculous notion in 2012. Used to be that people were too ignorant to figure out what's important to them beyond survival. We rely on a two party system to call the shots in our country. Is that really the best we can do? They make no apologies for their actions behind preserving the status quo of pleasing the rich in hopes that will trickle down to THEM. We seem to go along with them as they cut OUR throats. If that's not insanity, I don't know what is.
What if a legitimate third party would emerge to challenge their insanity? Why do we resist this idea? It's a FACT that the demographics in the US are not anything like what they used to be. The last Presidential election bares me out. Hispanics, blacks, and women primarily won the election for Obama. That's NEVER happened before! We need politicians who match up with what WE THE PEOPLE (remember that?) want to see in our country. Not these OLD stuffed shirts currently running the show. NEW BLOOD!
The bottom line is that 98% of us are unhappy (if not suffering) with the state of the nation. That being the case, it only makes sense for US to simply say "No more". WE could get this country moving in the right direction for ALL of us. Not just a chosen few.
Government has traditionally made decisions on what's best for us. What a ridiculous notion in 2012. Used to be that people were too ignorant to figure out what's important to them beyond survival. We rely on a two party system to call the shots in our country. Is that really the best we can do? They make no apologies for their actions behind preserving the status quo of pleasing the rich in hopes that will trickle down to THEM. We seem to go along with them as they cut OUR throats. If that's not insanity, I don't know what is.
What if a legitimate third party would emerge to challenge their insanity? Why do we resist this idea? It's a FACT that the demographics in the US are not anything like what they used to be. The last Presidential election bares me out. Hispanics, blacks, and women primarily won the election for Obama. That's NEVER happened before! We need politicians who match up with what WE THE PEOPLE (remember that?) want to see in our country. Not these OLD stuffed shirts currently running the show. NEW BLOOD!
The bottom line is that 98% of us are unhappy (if not suffering) with the state of the nation. That being the case, it only makes sense for US to simply say "No more". WE could get this country moving in the right direction for ALL of us. Not just a chosen few.
Saturday, November 24, 2012
The Hunts... Back in Southampton
Last night, during our annual Day-After-Thanksgiving-Dinner (where all the young adult relatives who live around here come to our home for a feast of leftovers) I shared a story from my youth. It was about my experience dealing with the rich people back in Southampton, NY in my early teens. The group was intent as they listened, and when I was finished, someone suggested that I should write about it. So... here goes!
In 1968 I was 12 years old. That was when I first experienced "The Hunts", set in the country side woods of my hometown. The hunts were designed to be a rich man's way of experiencing shooting pheasants for leisure, without the usual dirtiness of being a REAL hunter. Somewhere around 30 of these gentleman-hunters would show up on Saturday mornings at the crack of dawn in November and December. That is where we came in.
On the other side of town 30 or 40 kids, aged 12 to 16 (or 17), would meet in an empty grocery store parking lot, waiting for a big dirty dump truck to pick us up. When the truck arrived, we'd pile into the back, to set upon a 7 mile drive to the farm where the hunts would take place. We'd then pile out, and form a line to receive our equipment for the day. This consisted of a 3 1/2 foot long stick with a loop of rope attached to the back handle, a clapper that was fashioned from two pieces of wood attached with rope on one end, so when you swung it, it made a clapping noise, a bib with a number on it, which we wore over our coats, and a pair of plastic goggles, which we'd hang around our necks.
When we all had our equipment, we'd wait for a 60ish year old Hungarian man named Mr. Notashe ( pronounced Not-A-Shay) to look us over and give us a pep (threat) talk regarding his hopes for a successful day for the rich hunters. Seemed like we were always waiting for him for a ridiculously long time. Anyway, when he was satisfied with what he saw, we'd climb onto a flatbed trailer, which had no side walls, and was pulled by a tactor, driven by one of the older boys. We'd drive along on these dirt roads (paths), legs hanging over the sides at around 15-20 miles per hour, our destination, the first gathering spot of 6 or 7 for the day.
It took 5 or 10 minutes to get there, and kids would start wrestling and trying to push other kids off the flat bed as we drove to the spot. Each time a kid would get pushed off, the tractor would have to stop until he made his way back, with the driver yelling out commands like "Quit fucking around!" or "I'm not making any more stops! You fall off, you walk!" It was a cross between Lord Of The Flies and The Hunger Games.
When we'd finally make it to the right spot, we'd get off the flatbed and form a long line, according to number. Each 5 man team had an overlord kid (who made 1 dollar more each day) who was in charge of keeping the others in line. After lining up, we'd begin to march forward, usually heading into the woods, with the hunters waiting on directors chairs, along with beautiful women and obediant dogs, in clearings. We'd walk along clapping to scare the pheasants out of their hiding spots, beating the undergrowth with our sticks, in case any had gone into hiding.
We's walk through briars, mud, and slimy grass for 1/2 a mile or so, hearing the screams of the birds as we got closer to the hunter's clearing. Soon, the shotgun blasts would begin. The idea was to NOT shoot toward the beaters (exclusive job tile), but that wasn't always the case. Though I was never shot, I remember other kids pulling buckshot out of their skin. When we'd hear (or feel) the buckshot getting too close kids would yell out phrases like "Keep your fucking guns up!" toward the hunters.
Once we made it to a spot where we could see the hunters in front of us, we'd lay flat on our stomachs with heads down, or seek refuge behind a tree while they blasted away as the birds flew out. After a few minutes, Mr' Notashe would blow a horn, signifying that this particular shooting spree was completed. We'd then enter the clearing and pick up the dead birds, making a pile of their bodies. If they were still alive, we were expected to pick them up by the head and wring their necks until dead. Some kids got a real charge out of this and would wring the pheasant's necks until the head came off in their hands.
After thee or four of these mini-hunts, it was time for lunch. The tractor would drive us to an old barn where the smell of boiling hot dogs and cow excretement filled the air as we approached. One of the older kids was in charge of passing out hot dogs, another in charge of giving every kid one 12 ounce bottle of Coke, and a third would pass out a single jelly donut for desert. Such a lovely repast! Then the fun would begin. We'd play some kind of tackling game in the empty (of cows, not their shit) pasture. Some kids would quietly slip away to smoke a joint or 2. Others might imbibe some form of alcoholic beverage. For that one hour of time we answered to no one but our selves.
Then it was back to work. Gathering up our equipment, we'd get it all back together, and repeat the morning's events in new clearings with new pheasants. This would go on until daylight was gone. Inevitably some kid(s) would have a difficult afternoon after the lunch break (I include myself on a few of these occasions), and by dusk we'd be back to where we got our equipment in the morning. It was a 7 or 8 hour workday where we'd make $8, and each week the cries for "an extra dollar" were widespread and loud! After waiting for Mr. Notashe (again), we'd finally get our pay. Sometimes an extra dollar, and sometimes not.
I did "The Hunts" for another few years until I was one of the older kids. It was fun and it sucked at the same time. We were well aware of the fact that we were being taken advantage of by rich people who didn't care about us in the slightest. However the comradery I experienced with the other kids in my town, and the smile it brings to my face as I write this, made it well worth it!
In 1968 I was 12 years old. That was when I first experienced "The Hunts", set in the country side woods of my hometown. The hunts were designed to be a rich man's way of experiencing shooting pheasants for leisure, without the usual dirtiness of being a REAL hunter. Somewhere around 30 of these gentleman-hunters would show up on Saturday mornings at the crack of dawn in November and December. That is where we came in.
On the other side of town 30 or 40 kids, aged 12 to 16 (or 17), would meet in an empty grocery store parking lot, waiting for a big dirty dump truck to pick us up. When the truck arrived, we'd pile into the back, to set upon a 7 mile drive to the farm where the hunts would take place. We'd then pile out, and form a line to receive our equipment for the day. This consisted of a 3 1/2 foot long stick with a loop of rope attached to the back handle, a clapper that was fashioned from two pieces of wood attached with rope on one end, so when you swung it, it made a clapping noise, a bib with a number on it, which we wore over our coats, and a pair of plastic goggles, which we'd hang around our necks.
When we all had our equipment, we'd wait for a 60ish year old Hungarian man named Mr. Notashe ( pronounced Not-A-Shay) to look us over and give us a pep (threat) talk regarding his hopes for a successful day for the rich hunters. Seemed like we were always waiting for him for a ridiculously long time. Anyway, when he was satisfied with what he saw, we'd climb onto a flatbed trailer, which had no side walls, and was pulled by a tactor, driven by one of the older boys. We'd drive along on these dirt roads (paths), legs hanging over the sides at around 15-20 miles per hour, our destination, the first gathering spot of 6 or 7 for the day.
It took 5 or 10 minutes to get there, and kids would start wrestling and trying to push other kids off the flat bed as we drove to the spot. Each time a kid would get pushed off, the tractor would have to stop until he made his way back, with the driver yelling out commands like "Quit fucking around!" or "I'm not making any more stops! You fall off, you walk!" It was a cross between Lord Of The Flies and The Hunger Games.
When we'd finally make it to the right spot, we'd get off the flatbed and form a long line, according to number. Each 5 man team had an overlord kid (who made 1 dollar more each day) who was in charge of keeping the others in line. After lining up, we'd begin to march forward, usually heading into the woods, with the hunters waiting on directors chairs, along with beautiful women and obediant dogs, in clearings. We'd walk along clapping to scare the pheasants out of their hiding spots, beating the undergrowth with our sticks, in case any had gone into hiding.
We's walk through briars, mud, and slimy grass for 1/2 a mile or so, hearing the screams of the birds as we got closer to the hunter's clearing. Soon, the shotgun blasts would begin. The idea was to NOT shoot toward the beaters (exclusive job tile), but that wasn't always the case. Though I was never shot, I remember other kids pulling buckshot out of their skin. When we'd hear (or feel) the buckshot getting too close kids would yell out phrases like "Keep your fucking guns up!" toward the hunters.
Once we made it to a spot where we could see the hunters in front of us, we'd lay flat on our stomachs with heads down, or seek refuge behind a tree while they blasted away as the birds flew out. After a few minutes, Mr' Notashe would blow a horn, signifying that this particular shooting spree was completed. We'd then enter the clearing and pick up the dead birds, making a pile of their bodies. If they were still alive, we were expected to pick them up by the head and wring their necks until dead. Some kids got a real charge out of this and would wring the pheasant's necks until the head came off in their hands.
After thee or four of these mini-hunts, it was time for lunch. The tractor would drive us to an old barn where the smell of boiling hot dogs and cow excretement filled the air as we approached. One of the older kids was in charge of passing out hot dogs, another in charge of giving every kid one 12 ounce bottle of Coke, and a third would pass out a single jelly donut for desert. Such a lovely repast! Then the fun would begin. We'd play some kind of tackling game in the empty (of cows, not their shit) pasture. Some kids would quietly slip away to smoke a joint or 2. Others might imbibe some form of alcoholic beverage. For that one hour of time we answered to no one but our selves.
Then it was back to work. Gathering up our equipment, we'd get it all back together, and repeat the morning's events in new clearings with new pheasants. This would go on until daylight was gone. Inevitably some kid(s) would have a difficult afternoon after the lunch break (I include myself on a few of these occasions), and by dusk we'd be back to where we got our equipment in the morning. It was a 7 or 8 hour workday where we'd make $8, and each week the cries for "an extra dollar" were widespread and loud! After waiting for Mr. Notashe (again), we'd finally get our pay. Sometimes an extra dollar, and sometimes not.
I did "The Hunts" for another few years until I was one of the older kids. It was fun and it sucked at the same time. We were well aware of the fact that we were being taken advantage of by rich people who didn't care about us in the slightest. However the comradery I experienced with the other kids in my town, and the smile it brings to my face as I write this, made it well worth it!
Tuesday, November 20, 2012
Thanksgiving Prayer
Dear God/Godess, I come before you in prayer and suplication. I humbly ask that the world take a new direction. That All people will finally open eyes to the truth that we are All from one family of mankind. That we ALL will realize that we ALL can be helpful and helped by our sisters and brothers. That war and killing those from our own family doesn't accomplish anything more than dividing us. That compassion and love are your only wishes for us All. Amen
Tuesday, November 06, 2012
Election Day Blues... or Hot Patatuh
Getting ready to go over to my local library to cast my vote. Personally, up to this election, I've voted pretty much Democrat... but not any more. This year I'm voting for Jill Stein from the Pacific Green Party, who sounds so much wiser than either of the 2 main stream candidates. Times change, as do peoples' minds.
The sad part is that one of the two candidates (who Corporate TV allowed to debate) is going to win. Both these GUYS scare me to death! They have never shown that they have the interests of the American public at heart. They do the bidding of the wealthiest people in this country, and pretty much dump the rest of us. Here's my prediction... If Obama wins, all the racists in the land will go nuts. If Romney wins, all the fake liberals will cry that he stole the election. Either way, it could get weird...
The sad part is that one of the two candidates (who Corporate TV allowed to debate) is going to win. Both these GUYS scare me to death! They have never shown that they have the interests of the American public at heart. They do the bidding of the wealthiest people in this country, and pretty much dump the rest of us. Here's my prediction... If Obama wins, all the racists in the land will go nuts. If Romney wins, all the fake liberals will cry that he stole the election. Either way, it could get weird...
Sunday, October 28, 2012
Hurricane Thoughts
I've been doing some thinking today. Surprised? Every now and then... Anyway... earlier this week I saw the President on TV imploring people who are able, to vote early this year. Could it be because he knows something about Hurricane Sandy's destructive powers that we don't?
I have a funny feeling about this storm. It's already caused some power outages in the East, and has another 2 1/2 days to go before it's even done there! If it messes things up too badly, it may make it difficult for people to get to the voting poles on the 6th. Jus' sayin'... So if Ohio and Wisconsin (yes, it's supposed to be big enough to effect them) don't get the kind of turn out the President is hoping for, does he get to call a "do-over"?
And what happens to the rest of the country if power outages hit NYC and the Wall St. stock exchange has to be closed down for a few days or more? That would cause a huge mess throughout the US. I kiddingly mentioned on Facebook That this storm may in fact be the "October surprise" of this election. I hope it's not. I just have a funny feeling about this storm...
10/31/12- Well the storm is now gone for the most part, but its' effects will be with us for a while. As I suspected, I got it partially right. The discussion is obviously about fixing things that got broke, but there's also talk about how this will effect the election next week. And I also heard talk about Wall Street being closed. Lower Manhattan got hit pretty hard. Let's just hope that's it for a while!
I have a funny feeling about this storm. It's already caused some power outages in the East, and has another 2 1/2 days to go before it's even done there! If it messes things up too badly, it may make it difficult for people to get to the voting poles on the 6th. Jus' sayin'... So if Ohio and Wisconsin (yes, it's supposed to be big enough to effect them) don't get the kind of turn out the President is hoping for, does he get to call a "do-over"?
And what happens to the rest of the country if power outages hit NYC and the Wall St. stock exchange has to be closed down for a few days or more? That would cause a huge mess throughout the US. I kiddingly mentioned on Facebook That this storm may in fact be the "October surprise" of this election. I hope it's not. I just have a funny feeling about this storm...
10/31/12- Well the storm is now gone for the most part, but its' effects will be with us for a while. As I suspected, I got it partially right. The discussion is obviously about fixing things that got broke, but there's also talk about how this will effect the election next week. And I also heard talk about Wall Street being closed. Lower Manhattan got hit pretty hard. Let's just hope that's it for a while!
Thursday, October 25, 2012
Speaking of Heart...
My daughter Harmony attended Central Catholic High here in Portland. She graduated back in 2004. I bring that up for 2 reasons. The first is that she realized her love for running there, on the Cross Country track team, which is something that enriches her life now. The other, is that one of her fellow alums inspired me to write this post.
His name is Hayward Demison, and he was a running back on the Central Catholic Rams football team in 2010, 6 years after Harmony's departure. Yesterday I saw a story about him on ESPN, which I found to be both timely and inspiring. I knew by the time it was done that I needed to write about it on my blog.
In September, 2010, Hayward was a Junior in high school. His #1 football dream had always been to win a game for his team on the last play of the game. He saw that dream become reality when Central beat Canby by the score of 28 to 24, with Hayward running in the winning touchdown as time expired. Before he could celebrate the completion of his dream, he began to feel intense pain in his chest. Hayward had a major heart attack, which left him lifeless on the field of play.
Fortunately, he didn't "stay dead". He came back to life at the hospital, where they found he could either have a triple bypass, never to play football again, or he could have a risky open heart surgery that "might" allow him to play again in the future. He bravely opted for choice number 2, knowing that without the game he loved he'd have more regret than he wanted to handle. He made it through the surgery like the champion he is.
By his senior year he was back on the field, running the ball into the end zone. He played well enough to make it onto the all state team after leading his team into the playoffs with a 10-3 record! He accepted a scholarship from Southern Oregon University, and is now playing football on the college level.
The reasons I feel this story is timely and inspiring, is that just last week I wrote about the heart attack I had 19 years ago. I wrote that for the next 9 years I was waiting for the other shoe to drop, hypersensitive to any abnormal feelings in my body. Hayward's story inspires me because he was able to just move forward, whether or not he had the same fears as me. I feel it's safe to say he learned quickly what it took me 9 years to learn. Cast your fears to the side and live NOW.
His name is Hayward Demison, and he was a running back on the Central Catholic Rams football team in 2010, 6 years after Harmony's departure. Yesterday I saw a story about him on ESPN, which I found to be both timely and inspiring. I knew by the time it was done that I needed to write about it on my blog.
In September, 2010, Hayward was a Junior in high school. His #1 football dream had always been to win a game for his team on the last play of the game. He saw that dream become reality when Central beat Canby by the score of 28 to 24, with Hayward running in the winning touchdown as time expired. Before he could celebrate the completion of his dream, he began to feel intense pain in his chest. Hayward had a major heart attack, which left him lifeless on the field of play.
Fortunately, he didn't "stay dead". He came back to life at the hospital, where they found he could either have a triple bypass, never to play football again, or he could have a risky open heart surgery that "might" allow him to play again in the future. He bravely opted for choice number 2, knowing that without the game he loved he'd have more regret than he wanted to handle. He made it through the surgery like the champion he is.
By his senior year he was back on the field, running the ball into the end zone. He played well enough to make it onto the all state team after leading his team into the playoffs with a 10-3 record! He accepted a scholarship from Southern Oregon University, and is now playing football on the college level.
The reasons I feel this story is timely and inspiring, is that just last week I wrote about the heart attack I had 19 years ago. I wrote that for the next 9 years I was waiting for the other shoe to drop, hypersensitive to any abnormal feelings in my body. Hayward's story inspires me because he was able to just move forward, whether or not he had the same fears as me. I feel it's safe to say he learned quickly what it took me 9 years to learn. Cast your fears to the side and live NOW.
Saturday, October 20, 2012
A Heart Attack At 37?
You know... with all the posts I've placed on this blog, I never have brought up my heart attack from 19 years ago. I guess it's about time to do that, as the event changed me in several ways. Some good ways, and some not so good.
I was 37 years old at the time. One Saturday afternoon I was preparing for a nap, when my left shoulder began to increasingly bother me. My wife at the time was also in the bed, reading a book before taking a nap herself. I mentioned my shoulder being sore, and jokingly said something about sweating. Soon as I was finished with my statement, I broke out in a sweat.
Fortunately, after having attended first aid training 5 or 10 times, I immediately recognized what was going on, as a heart attack. My wife told me I had gone pale, which affirmed what was happening. We walked out to the car, and off we drove to the hospital. It was a pretty scary drive; running red lights and a lot of horn beeping, but we arrived at the hospital unharmed.
I walked into the emergency room unassisted, and sat down while my wife told the people at the desk that it seemed like I was having a heart attack. Some medical professional (can't recall if it was a doctor or a nurse) did a few quick tests, which ended with giving me a nitro glycerin tablet. Almost immediately the symptoms became less intense, but only for a few minutes. They determined that I was indeed, having a heart attack, and quickly got me into an operating room.
For the next 1/2 hour or so, I was in the greatest pain of my life! First they gave me an angio-gram to figure out what they needed to do to treat me. The whole time, I was in such pain that I was swearing like a sailor. They decided that what I needed was an angio-plaste. So I simply laid there in extreme pain while they did their thing. First thing I did when they were finished was to apologize for all the swearing I had been doing. I remember a male nurse telling me not to worry about it, that it happens all the time during this procedure.
I stayed in the hospital, stoned out on morphine for the next 3 days. Now I know why heroin is so addictive. That was some good shit! When I left the hospital I began viewing life differently than before I went in. For the next 10 years I was hyper sensitive to any kind of pain or discomfort I experienced. It was a total pain in the ass! I returned to the hospital 5 or 6 times out of fear that I was having another heart attack. Turns out, each time, it was merely a mild case of heartburn.
Then 9 years ago, those all too familiar pains returned. When I got to the hospital, they told me I needed a new coil because the old one was warn out. They replaced it, and I was good as new. At that point I made a decision to focus on living instead of dying. I became far less conscious of every little ache and pain that came my way. I still try to take care of myself, which is challenging because of chronic back problems, and I may not live forever, but at least I can enjoy myself now. THAT'S important!
I was 37 years old at the time. One Saturday afternoon I was preparing for a nap, when my left shoulder began to increasingly bother me. My wife at the time was also in the bed, reading a book before taking a nap herself. I mentioned my shoulder being sore, and jokingly said something about sweating. Soon as I was finished with my statement, I broke out in a sweat.
Fortunately, after having attended first aid training 5 or 10 times, I immediately recognized what was going on, as a heart attack. My wife told me I had gone pale, which affirmed what was happening. We walked out to the car, and off we drove to the hospital. It was a pretty scary drive; running red lights and a lot of horn beeping, but we arrived at the hospital unharmed.
I walked into the emergency room unassisted, and sat down while my wife told the people at the desk that it seemed like I was having a heart attack. Some medical professional (can't recall if it was a doctor or a nurse) did a few quick tests, which ended with giving me a nitro glycerin tablet. Almost immediately the symptoms became less intense, but only for a few minutes. They determined that I was indeed, having a heart attack, and quickly got me into an operating room.
For the next 1/2 hour or so, I was in the greatest pain of my life! First they gave me an angio-gram to figure out what they needed to do to treat me. The whole time, I was in such pain that I was swearing like a sailor. They decided that what I needed was an angio-plaste. So I simply laid there in extreme pain while they did their thing. First thing I did when they were finished was to apologize for all the swearing I had been doing. I remember a male nurse telling me not to worry about it, that it happens all the time during this procedure.
I stayed in the hospital, stoned out on morphine for the next 3 days. Now I know why heroin is so addictive. That was some good shit! When I left the hospital I began viewing life differently than before I went in. For the next 10 years I was hyper sensitive to any kind of pain or discomfort I experienced. It was a total pain in the ass! I returned to the hospital 5 or 6 times out of fear that I was having another heart attack. Turns out, each time, it was merely a mild case of heartburn.
Then 9 years ago, those all too familiar pains returned. When I got to the hospital, they told me I needed a new coil because the old one was warn out. They replaced it, and I was good as new. At that point I made a decision to focus on living instead of dying. I became far less conscious of every little ache and pain that came my way. I still try to take care of myself, which is challenging because of chronic back problems, and I may not live forever, but at least I can enjoy myself now. THAT'S important!
Tuesday, October 09, 2012
The "One Year" Rule
I've made a decision I call the One Year Rule. It goes like this... If you write something for someone, and they haven't used it for one year, you may post it on your blog. In August 2011, I was asked to write the advise I would give to an autistic young adult who was moving from an urban (city) setting to a rural (country) setting. I did what I was asked, and to the best of my knowledge, it hasn't been used to date. So I'm posting it here. The title of my writing is...
*****Beyond The Obvious
For all your
own good reasons, you've chosen to live in rural America, where getting your
needs met may be more difficult than in the city. There's no reason to panic if
you or someone who knows you is able to see "beyond the obvious."
Always remember it's not you or your disability that makes life tricky, it's a
world that has long neglected the idea of including EVERYONE as an equal
opportunity participant in the community. Throughout history people with
disabilities have been looked upon as second class citizens. Though things have
slowly improved, I believe we still have a long way to go.
Of course, you'll want to be tied into some real advocacy in your new environment. There are agencies and individuals who are well paid to be there for you, but this can be very challenging. Many people who claim to be disability advocates, really are not. They may simply see you as part of their job. Look for passion! Look for people who understand the disability racket, and have experience in taking on the status quo. Just because someone holds some sort of title, doesn't mean they have YOUR best interests at heart. You don't want to learn this lesson the hard way, so always make sure you know the person(s), and their intentions going in. ASK LOTS OF QUESTIONS. If you do this thoroughly, and take this task seriously, you'll be much better off in the long run.
What's really
important is fully understanding how important it is to educate people on how
your disability can be their reward. Many people have an inner need to feel
like they're making a positive effect in the world. These are the same people
who find reward in doing things that help their neighbors. This is not about
pity, it's about ALLOWING people to be as great as they can be. Refusing people
the opportunity to be helpful, is no different than people refusing you the
opportunity to participate. Live and let live.
It's equally
important that you realize many people are fearful of stepping away from the
comfort of familiarity, especially familiar individuals. When they have someone
they can talk to who experienced the same situation that they did, it makes
them that much more comfortable. Not being able to do so causes folks to wonder
if they did or said the right thing. If they lose enough of their self-confidence,
they will likely retreat, and you will lose whatever support you were getting
from them. If they have someone to talk to they are more likely to feel
reassured, and less likely to retreat. This is a good reason to believe there's
"strength in numbers." There's nothing like a "team"
effort.
I'd like to
tell you about a short documentary I watched recently. The title is
"Picking up Butch." It deals with a man in his 60s who has cerebral
palsy. He lives in the relatively small town of Middlebury Vermont, population,
8000. Because he is physically compromised, he uses a wheel chair. His arms and
hands also contribute to his personal challenges. He grew up in Middlebury,
where he became a big fan of the University's football and basketball programs,
as well as the college and students themselves. Getting to the games was a
major difficulty for him as a child. Now, at 63 and living in a nursing home it
would be even more difficult for him, except for one thing. Butch has earned
the love and respect of the entire student body!
Where he lives
is what he calls a "boring" place. Most of the other residents are in
their 70s and 80s. What's most important to Butch is getting to the games, and
hanging out with the younger students. As the title of the film suggests, each
home game day, students come to the nursing home, pick him up, and take him to
the games themselves. It's a tradition that has held for 50 years. Somehow the
information about Butch, his physical needs, his mild fear of being in a van,
and his love for what happens at the school have been passed down from class to
class over the years. He is totally a crowd favorite, almost like he's on the
team himself. Everybody knows Butch! It's all about the relationships he's
established in the past 50 years with people who want to do good things. It's
not only about sports either. He's gotten his equivalency diploma with the
assistance and tutoring of a non-athlete. Butch is not any kind of mascot, he
is accepted as having a seat with everyone else.
I guess the
story of Butch and how he and his disability have enriched the lives of so many
others is not only inspiring, but shows me that with some "beyond the
obvious" thinking you can thrive, living in a rural area. Some strategies
that come to mind involve getting out in the community where people begin to
recognize you. Smaller communities make it easier for people to become familiar
with you, and as I said earlier, familiarity brings about comfort.
Look for a
college! There's usually some kind of formal adult education happening in every
part of the country. Check out the fire department! It's always a good idea to
let them know when you move into a new community, especially if you have
physical challenges. Who knows? Maybe you'll find a new friend there. If you're
comfortable, visit a church! A cafe! Wherever you can feel relaxed and be
yourself. If you can, introduce yourself to people. If that's something you're
unable to do, have someone with you who can, and is comfortable in doing so. My
thinking is that if you are out in the sticks, you're going to need to rattle
some branches in order to be noticed. Share (with those who seem interested)
what sort of support you need. You don't need to ask them to provide the
support, but it's fine to discuss your needs with others, if you're comfortable
doing it.
Generally
speaking, people who live in the country (as opposed to city) are a more open
and friendly people. Once they feel comfortable with you, they'd likely give
you the shirt off their back. You're also likely to be near something not
usually found in the city. Farms where they have horses. Not all people like
horses, but many do. Developing a personal relationship with a horse and their
owner could give you many hours of satisfaction, while being therapeutic at the
same time. Rural areas also are less stressful. The sounds and smells, are much
more relaxing than the sounds and smells of the city. If you are a bit of a
high strung individual, just being in nature can often help you feel relaxed.
Your biggest issue will be in figuring out how to get around. There's often
lots of miles in between places you may want to go.
Transportation
in rural places can often be sparse. Developing relationships can be very
helpful in this area. At the risk of sounding redundant, I'll say it again.
It's all about the relationships when you live in a rural area. You really do
need to depend on community! So does everyone else who lives near you. It's a
different lifestyle and you, along with the people who support you, need to
keep that in the forefront of your mind. Reaching out to another human is good
for you AND them. It's a win/win situation.
If you can
tell people your story, they'll likely take an interest in you and probably
want to spend more time getting to know you on a deeper level. That is why I
feel so strongly about making YOURSELF a valued part of the community.
Overcoming injustice and/or intolerance can be a full time job. If you don't do
it, who will?
Another option
is starting something up yourself, and inviting others to participate. If you
need help in accomplishing this, ask for it! Look for peers with and without
disabilities, and become friends with them. You may find yourself pleasantly
surprised to discover they have similar needs or wants as you. It's about being
"out there", participating in your own life. You may also discover that
there is grant money available to get something going. You'll never know unless
you ask.
At this point
I feel it's important to let you know a very important fact... You Are Not
Alone!! If you're choosing to live alone, it's critical that you don't isolate
at home. Many people choose to live in rural areas for several reasons.
Whatever yours may be, always remember that isolating yourself leads to
loneliness, self-doubt, and ultimately depression. It may be difficult doing
some of the strategies I'm suggesting here, but in the long run, you'll find
success if you just keep on trying. I'm aware that all I'm writing may be a bit
overwhelming to you, but it's going to take some work to make things come
together.
Speaking of
reading, the library can be a good free resource for you. You'll find a wealth
of information while making yourself visible to other folks in your community.
Libraries can serve for both serious studying and recreation. They are
generally quiet places, so you'll find a peaceful environment when you go
there. In addition to the traditional books, libraries often lend out DVD's,
have internet access, computer games, and magazines. You'll also probably come
into contact with a community bulletin board, which will give you ideas of
other things you can do where you live. A good library can be like a good
friend!
If you're able
to work, you just might make some friends while bringing some cash into your
life. Find out what sort of job assistance you are eligible for. Often times
you can find a "job developer" to help you find a job, and the state
might pay for this service. If you have trouble doing the work at first a
"job coach" may be just what you need. They teach you the job and
help you work on becoming independent in the workplace. Living in the country,
job opportunities will probably be somewhat limited, so be sure to set your
sights realistically. You can often grow into liking a job that you dislike
initially.
So now you
have my ideas about what you can do to thrive in a rural area. There may even
be more, but this should be a good starting point. Just remember to always use
your imagination and to try to think (and see) "beyond the obvious."
Become acquainted with the people around you. You'll do just fine!
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