Category: Uncategorized

 

The excerpted article below is from Inclusion Daily Express.

Disabled Riders Protest Proposed Bus-Fare Hike, Service Cuts
(Salt Lake Tribune)
April 15, 2009

SALT LAKE CITY, UTAH– [Excerpt] The Utah Transit Authority’s boardroom overflowed with wheelchairs, walkers and assistance dogs Wednesday evening as disabled bus riders bashed a plan to cut paratransit service and raise fares.

Dozens applauded each time a rider took the microphone to register opposition. Many speakers echoed a common theme: More than a ride, UTA’s “flextrans” vans give them life.

“We have a right to an active life,” said Bountiful resident Mickey Adelhardt, who uses a wheelchair. She suggested that instead of reducing the service area or adding $1.50 to the fare, as proposed, the agency crack down on light-rail riders who take advantage of honor-system ticketing.

Some cried during their testimony or asked others to speak for them.

UTA has offered paratransit services at an affordable cost for years, blind Salt Lake City resident Robin Doyle said, and riders have built their lives around them. The agency should trim other expenses, she argued, not services to those who need them most.

Entire article:
Disabled riders protest proposed bus-fare hike, service cuts
http://www.sltrib.com/news/ci_12151781
Related:
Disabled Utahns Say Paratransit Cuts and Fare Hikes a Bad Plan (KUTV)
http://www.inclusiondaily.com/news/2009/red/0415d.htm
Disabled Utahns fear imminent budget cuts (Salt Lake Tribune)
http://www.sltrib.com/ci_12120916

Like hundreds of thousands of other wringled people I swim laps in a pool as a means of staying limber and as a further means of boosting my anti-depressant drug . I make no bones about it: having one disability can indeed induce situational depression and I’ve been depressed most of my life. I take my meds and swim my laps and in turn I walk long distances with my guide dog.

The great thing about swimming is that you can’t hear a damned thing  except the beating of your own heart and the aqua-graphic bubbles that make their own mystic alphabet in one’s head. Sometimes I hear my hair rowing its own boat. And sometimes when I’m swimming fast enough and starving for oxygenI hear Amelita Galli-Curci, star soprano for the Metropolitan Opera  circa 1908  singing an aria from Madame Butterfly.

I have better dreams when I am swimming regularly. Last night I dreamt that I was living in Brooklyn, New York, circa 1935and I was happily writing a novel. I didn’t own much. I had a typewriter that resembled a pipe organ and a tea set with a lovely pitcher that had hand painted yellow roses. I had a cathedral radio with glowing tubes. I had some pencils.

I woke this morning all dried out and smelling of chlorine but I knew that we’re swimming in larger pools than we daily can conceive of.

I have a desire for tea.

S.K.  

 

Last night at a school board meeting in Iowa City, a meeting where it was announced that special education teachers are going to be cut from one of our city’s high schools I stood up and asked the simple question: “What strategies do you have in place to assure that IEPs and basic services will be provided to students who need special education support?” I was greeted with silence from the school board.

After the silence had grown embarrassingly long a representative from the school administration got up and explained that they now have fewer special ed students than they did last year and therefore, with this in mind, they don’t need the teachers.

I pointed out that two years ago there were too many special ed kids for the teachers and guidance officers to manage.

I was assured that these students have now left the school district.

By my lights that assertion means that people got fed up and left town. That’s not an unreasonable conclusion to draw.

I lost my temper. I told the school board they should feel ashamed of themselves. I told the school administrator that the apparent disappearance of special ed students from the rolls doesn’t speak well of a school system that is anecdotally not doing a good job when it comes to special ed support.

I looked bug eyed and aggressive. My wife told me so on the way home. And as always she was correct.

My problem is that I can’t escape the knowledge that there are real lives in the balance; that people with disabilities are all too often accorded the dregs of whatever happens to be at hand; that there are parents and kids who don’t have my advantages and who cannot speak for themselves.

John 14:23, ”If a man love Me, he will keep My Word: and My Father will love him, and We will come unto him, and make our abode with him.”

I console myself that I’m keeping my word. My anger is righteous which means its driven by love for those who are weak.

 

S.K.

There’s an excellent column in today’s Des Moines Register by our friend Ralph Savarese which is concerned with disability and sexuality. Kudos to the Register   for publishing a quality essay on a subject that makes many folks uncomfortable.

 

S.K.

Back in the 1970’s when Saturday Night Live was new viewers were amused by a running gag that featured nothing more than a man in his apartment and a closed door. You know the rest. It was the dreaded Land Shark.

Now the Walking Shark has come out of retirement to work with the National Defective People Industry  Standards and Practices Association to make sure that defenseless people–those who rely on the kindness of strangers–are summarily eaten alive. 

“We felt that the recent upturn in the abuse of children in Sunday schools and the cruelty to the developmentally disabled and the elderly needed a boost,” said Urho Aho, president of the Defective People Industry Standards and Practices Association. “You can’t just leave abuse up to chance, you really want to promote it.”

Enter the Land Shark.

Nowadays he looks more like Charlie the Tuna than the fearsome sprinting dentata of old but he’s still quite nasty.

“I ate two pugs and a kitty cat on my way to this interview,” the shark said when we met him at a secure location in Minneapolis.

The shark (who has no arms) has a retinue of exophthalmic attendants who clean his teeth with silver tooth picks and adjust his glasses.

The shark got straight to the point.

“America treats the poor and the developmentally disabled and the elderly like shit,” he said while Trixie adjusted his beret.

“But they never just flat out get the job done–that’s where I come in. I teach care givers and night nurses and such how to tear off  legs and noses without remorse. Its the remorse you really want to get rid of. You’ve got to celebrate viciousness and appetite and quit screwing around.”

The shark, who is a big fan of fascism says that the disabled and the elderly are just “useless eaters” and as a predator he can’t imagine anything worse than that.

According to Mr. Aho the Land Shark is booked solid for the next 12 months.

“He’s doing more with legislatures these days,” Aho said. “The shark says that when you slash supervisory care budgets  to the bone you can devour people with impunity.”

 

S.K.

There’s a compelling and timely post over at Bad Cripple that outlines the dark and discordant emotional dynamics of the comedy skits concerning New York Governor David Paterson’s blindness on Saturday Night Live. We have written extensively about the wilfull and objectionable “ableism” that was inherent in those NBC skits that depicted the blind governor as a stumble bum who in turn couldn’t understand the fundamentals of basic architecture.

The New York governor’s current low standing in the polls has everything to do with his handling of the NY government during a depression and there’s plenty to be said about that. But on a human scale the derision of the media where David Paterson’s disability is concerned has had a very real and very human cost.

I too recall being taunted in the schoolyard; bullied; singled out by teachers because I couldn’t focus my eyes in the proper direction or read a standard printed page. I carry the remembrance of scorn and the concommitant internalized shame to this very day.

The post over at Bad Cripple is singular for its human portrait of what ableism can do to even the most talented people with disabilities.

 

S.K.

There’s a line in a poem by Lorca where he says he wants to get down on all fours and eat the grasses of the cemeteries. One night when I was a college student I went out with some friends by moonlight and we made our fugitive ways into the grave yard and together we crawled over the wet grass and with the help of some cheap wine we sampled that green hair growing out of the graves. We felt very poetic. It was cold and dark and the gibbous moon was behind the twisted branches of a cemetery elm and we were rather a solemn team as we put Lorca and Sir Walter Whitman to the test. The grass didn’t taste like much. Or to be precise it tasted like grass. There wasn’t a hint of spice or some other dhark humor belonging to the dead.

One of the things about being young is that one is seldom disappointed. We didn’t mind that the uncut grass growing out of those graves tasted like all the other grass that kids have always sampled since the dawn of time. We didn’t feel betrayed by Lorca. We sat together under the elm tree and sipped our wine and we smoked Marboros and we recited poetry and we were as fully alive as it was possible for us to be. As I recall the matter I think we even dimly understood that we had an obligation to the dead to recite poems. There was for us a little ecumenical jazzy naivete and it was a beautiful night.

 

S.K.

by Andrea Scarpino

Los Angeles

This weekend marked the 40^th wedding anniversary of my partner Zac’s parents, who began dating after they finished high school and have been married longer than they previously lived apart. I’m in awe that their relationship has survived so long, through two children, serious illness and disability, moves across the country, frustrating jobs, two Bush administrations, etc.

Thinking about his parents’ wedding anniversary made me think about spending 40 years with Zac. It’s a lovely idea, but also one that causes confusion and consternation in family members and friends who really want us to get married, not just be together. I have even had, albeit in rare cases, people pity me openly and vocally for having a partner seemingly unwilling to commit to marriage. Of course, Zac is never pitied—societal expectations say marriage should be paramount in a woman’s life, but a thing of terror and horror in a man’s life. The truth is, neither of us wants to be married for a plethora of social and political reasons, none of which has anything to do with fear of commitment. I mean, Zac and I own a house together in Ohio, lease our apartment together in Los Angeles, share a joint checking account and a credit card, let alone three very needy cats. If any two people wear the signs of commitment, we certainly do.

But that wedding ring and ceremony is still such a big part of American society that many people refuse to acknowledge the seriousness of a relationship until the wedding commitment has taken place. So why are we so standoffish about the whole thing? Why not just have a wedding and call it a day? At the very least, we could haul in bountiful wedding gifts—and I would very much like a vegetable juicer.

Here’s one reason: even though the tides are turning on opponents of gay marriage, I like to think of myself as an activist, and taking advantage of a “privilege” (meaning that marriage is currently constructed as a legal, religious, cultural, etc. privilege but shouldn’t be) when others are denied that same “privilege” makes me pretty uncomfortable To paraphrase a friend, I like to think of myself as the type of person who wouldn’t have gone to “whites only” restaurants in the 50’s, so signing up for a “heteros only” institution really isn’t high on my to-do list.

Another reason is that the language around marriage, well, makes my skin crawl. I’m always reading in magazines from self-help type people that “marriage is hard work” and takes “a lot of time and energy.” And I already work really hard—on my chosen career (poetry) and two jobs (teaching), on improving my running speed, on choosing healthy food that is locally grown and doesn’t contribute to environmental collapse, on presidential elections and conference papers. Why take on marriage when everyone agrees it’s such hard work and I already work so hard? Our relationship, as it is, is wonderful and kind and not-at-all hard. Plus, having someone call me his “wife”—well that carries too much cultural baggage to express in this one little post.

So as I celebrated Zac’s parents’ 40-year marriage this weekend, I also celebrated something even bigger—their 40-plus year relationship. And I continue to wish everyone the love and joy that finding another person with whom to share your days can bring. Whether or not you choose marriage. Whether or not marriage is allowed you. Whether or not your relationship is with a partner or dear friend or sibling or long-lost soul mate. To paraphrase the Beatles, all we need is love, but let’s expand the shapes that love can take. I promise, only good things will result.

 

Andrea Scarpino is the west coast Bureau Chief of POTB. You can read more about her at:

www.andreascarpino.com

Advocates Protest Plan To Eliminate Certain Fines Against Care Centers
(Des Moines Register)
April 9, 2009
Excerpt provided by Inclusion Daily Express.

DES MOINES, IOWA– [Excerpt] Advoc

ates for seniors are protesting legislation that would eliminate fines imposed against Iowa nursing homes for a range of violations, including failure to follow a physician’s orders, failure to meet basic fire-safety regulations and failure to provide adequate nutrition for residents.

The bill recently passed both the full Senate and a House committee without a single dissenting vote.

But advocates now claim that lawmakers have been misled about the impacts of the legislation, which would give nursing homes the opportunity to avoid fines for what are called “Class 2 violations,” if the facility corrects those problems before state inspectors become aware of them.

“This really makes me angry,” said Charlotte Walker, an Iowa City advocate for seniors. “I wonder if even one of our senators bothered to ask what was really included in these so-called low-level violations.”

Entire article:
Advocates protest plan to eliminate certain fines against care centers
http://www.inclusiondaily.com/news/2009/red/0409a.htm

Johnny Munchausen has been able bodied since birth but he hasn’t let that stop him from his dream of becoming ill. The forty two year old vending machine repairman from Muncie, Indiana recently told Planet of the Blind that although his good health is seemingly a test from God he’s still confident of overcoming it some day. 

“I dream all the time of being in an Iron Lung,” said Munchausen who prefers being called “Munchie” since he likes to eat snack foods.

His wife Cindy Lu who is also blessed with good health says that her husband has never stopped believing he can overcome his physical condition.

“He’s like  you know, I’m gonna fall apart one of these days, you know, like an old Chevrolet, he’ll just drop his engine block right in the street–he’s incredibly optimistic.”

Munchausen’s neighbor Clyde “Harry” Cuddeback says that being healthy has never gotten in Munchie’s way. 

“He eats total shit and he drinks like a Nebraska wheat lobbyist.” Cuddebacksays. “Munchie really works at overcoming his good health.”

The president of the Muncie Vending Machine Repairman’s Association Knut Clapper says that Munchausen inspires everyone.

“He reminds every one of us  that we’re lucky to be sick. Me? I’ve got gout and I thank my lucky stars to be swollen and inflamed and barely able to move. I always get the best parking places and the high school kids carry my groceries at Wal Mart. That’s why Munchie is so heroic. We all know he will get there. He’s just got so much faith and energy.”

“one of these days,” says Munchie, “I will rise up singing.”

Meanwhile he has the whole town rooting for a miracle.

 

S.K.