(32nd Entry) Writing, answering

I used to worry that I might run out of things to write about. The great thing about doing the blog so far has been finding out that there’s so much to be written about. Even when I write about a subject it always possible to go deeper, exploring new angles, going more into depth, looking at it from new angles. What a relief!

My good friend David has written a couple of emails to me since my beginning the blog. He always asks good questions. In his first email he asked, “Your introspective subway story is really interesting. How would your reaction today be different from your reaction then?” (Entry 7 and 8) In his second email he comments that he’s surprised that I haven’t written about the ADA and the effects or lack of effect it has had for disabled individuals.

The nice thing about comments and emails are that I have or want to respond to them. The problem is that they sometimes ask questions that I don’t have answers to.

Having just returned from New York, I keep asking myself how the subway incident might be different today. I must admit I don’t necessarily have an answer. I’m struggling as I write to express what those differences might be.

Back then it seems to me that what I felt was a realization that I had something in common with the disabled individuals panhandling on the subway. I had always considered myself above or different than “those people”. I think that’s why I felt that people would judge me if I gave them money or not. When I say that it was all about me, it means that it could only be about me because everyone else was different or I was different.

Maybe this might make sense and help explain what I was going through. When I was in High School in Man and His Environment which I’ve written about, we went on a field trip one day. We visited an elementary school for all types of disabled kids. I was in the hallway when this young kid with severe learning disabilities spotted me. He came running down the hall wanting to see me. Many of my peers were around. I panicked. I didn’t want the other kids, my peers, to think that I was disabled or that there was something wrong with me, so I avoided the child. I ran off and hid somewhere. I’ve always felt bad about this. Even at that time.

A little more… While in New York I was riding the subway one morning with my backpack on and an extra tote bag. Usually someone offers me a seat. On this day no one offered me a seat. I think the question is… Do I expect it? It didn’t really bother me, except that I’m spoiled in New York. I get treated incredibly well. When things happen repeatedly we begin to expect it. I didn’t need a seat. I’m perfectly capable of standing with a backpack and tote bag.

So what’s the difference today as opposed to twenty years ago? One major difference is that today I know that I can survive in this world, take care of myself no matter what happens. Back then I was lost, confused; I didn’t have a job nor had I had one. I didn’t know if I would ever have one. Once you know that you can survive in this world, do the things that you need to do… it just doesn’t mater as much what others think. It’s called confidence, not to be confused with arrogance. It’s confidence without questions or perhaps even without guilt. It is knowing that you’re doing the most that you can do.

When you have a little hope, a little confidence you don’t have to be afraid of those like you. Maybe that’s the difference today. Maybe when you have a little hope and a little confidence it is OK when someone offers you a seat or even if they don’t. Maybe it’s ok to give that disabled individual in the subway money just because they touch you without caring what others think. Maybe it’s ok to be around others like yourself, because they’re the same and yet different than ourselves. What I’ve learned in my life is that the greatest prejudices are those things within myself that I don’t understand, that I deny or that I hate about myself.

(31st Entry) New Beginings; Moving On!!!

I’m flying home from New York… bitter sweet! While I’m glad to be going home and see my dog; I’m sad to be leaving New York. I used to think that I wanted to live there. However, after this trip I realize that it’s a great place to visit, but the physical demands of living there are just to much. I leave feeling like I’ve just left my best friend… that feeling of loneliness and emptiness that comes when all of a sudden we’re alone. I also leave full of energy, inspiration and creative thoughts.

In 1988 when I first visited New York it was the beginning of a renaissance of sorts for me. Twenty years later I have that same feeling. My life tends to be built on stages. Perhaps its time to move on to the next.

What is the next stage of my life? Maybe the best way to describe what this might be is to look at the past. My life seems to break up into 15 year increments with some slight deviations. The first 15 years of my life were spent growing up like most other kids. Learning how to do things, making friends, being like other kids. The second 15 year period was spent being lost. Just going through the motions, but still accomplishing some notable tasks. Accomplishing things because they were expected, not because I had a reason, a goal or a desire. I went to college, started a non-profit organization; but I lacked direction, conviction and most of all passion. The third 15 year period I went back to school, worked in the corporate world, got out of the corporate world, kind of got lost again for a few years and now am ready to begin the fourth 15 year period.

Although the blog is not that old I’ve written some about each segment of my life. When I left the corporate world five years ago, I was distraught and depressed. It didn’t have to be this way; but sometimes things turn out differently than we expect and sometimes fate plays its hand. So many things played a role in my corporate life which hopefully can be related in my book about my experience in corporate America. Suffice it to say, I just didn’t fit the mold. I had my moments of success and several bosses would probably hire me back in an instance… But it wasn’t me. It wasn’t my gift. It might have been or could have been if circumstances had been different.

I’m reading a book called BLINK by Malcolm Gladwell as I’m on the plane going back home. He mentions several things so far that I’ve known, but is good to see in print. One of them is that the majority of CEO’s in this country are tall. In other words, physical attributes do help some get ahead. Where does that leave anyone with a disability?

He also talks about Implicit Association Tests (IAT’s) which he uses to show the difference between what we think we feel about a group of people and what we might actually associate with people‘s, race, gender, etc. Many years ago I wrote something called… Knowing, Believing and Doing! How often in life are we consistent in these three areas? More often than not I think we’re inconsistent. This is what the IAT points out. I would like to see if there are any dealing with the attitudes of disabilities. He mentions a website to go to, so I think I’ll investigate… www.implicit.harvard.edu I just went to this site and the first test on the list has to do with disability. WOW!!!

So what is the next segment of my life? I think it’s a reconciliation of the three segments so far. Take from my childhood that innocence and feeling of not being that different (1st Segment), the lessoned learned from being lost and the struggle of the issue of being the same and different (2nd Segment) and the quasi-industrialness found by going out into the commercial world (3rd Segment) and to somehow bring these together to accomplish my goals.

To sum it up in a few words… It’s time to accomplish the mission statement listed on the right hand side of the blog!

This sounds so simple… Reality: It takes discipline, stamina and dedication. Three things that don’t come naturally to me or at least come naturally simultaneously.

It’s easy for me in life to sit back, dream and wait for things to happen. This method won’t get the Mission Statement accomplished.

This is my dream… Only I can make it happen! And like the change from each of the segments before in my life I do it only when my back is against the wall, when I’ve bet all the chips on the table and there’s no turning back.

Going out and buying a new computer

Today or tomorrow I'll be buying a new computer. My old one died! It was five years old, so it's time to get another one.

Sorry for not having new entries! Hopefully that will change soon...

(30th Entry) Drums… continued from Entry 29

Today I flew to New York and needless to say, if you’ve read the blog you know that I love New York. There’s always a feeling of anticipation, energy and wonderment. New York always makes me think! Think about me, my life, what am I doing? I tend to reflect upon life when I’m in that “New York state of mind.”

Life is interesting… at least mine is! What am I doing with my life? What is the purpose of my life?

As I was on the plane I asked myself, “Why did I teach myself to play the snare drum?” I was young. Was there really a reason? I liked to bang on things. Lots of kids do. It had to be the challenge. An inner challenge, because no one was asking me to learn or saying I couldn’t… at least as far as I remember. It was a challenge. Could I do it? I wanted to know? I wanted to figure out if I could.

I never went on to play more than just the snare drum. I know my snare drum teacher discouraged my parent’s from purchasing a complete set of drums. He felt I couldn’t do it. Of course most people figured I probably couldn’t play the snare drum either.

I knew I could play the snare drum and play it well enough to be competitive for my age. It’s like kids playing sports of any kind… competitive for their age and then one day they’re not.

If I had really wanted to play or had ever figured out a way with confidence that I could play the complete set of drums, I’m sure that I would have and would have had a set of my own. This I’m pretty confident of. I never really figured it out though. Or... maybe I just got bored and didn’t want to go any farther.

It’s much like the reason I went into corporate life. It was to prove something to myself, to know something for myself. Once I had my answer, it lost all of its allure.

There’s an interesting combination of proving to myself, proving to others and finding out if I have a passion for it.

(29th Entry) The beat goes on…

Tonight I was meeting a friend for dinner. (If I hadn’t mentioned it before I’m in a great town called San Miguel de Allende in Mexico.) So we met in the Jardin, the city’s main plaza around 8:00. I casually asked him what he was hungry for. He said he liked this little Italian restaurant down the street. We walked to the restaurant and when we arrived we were asked if we had reservations. I thought this was kind of odd because the city is very slow. Luckily they had a table against the wall. When we were sitting my friend said, “That was Doc Severinson over there.”

I didn’t realize that this was the restaurant where Doc plays several nights a week. I know he lives here and I even met his wife a few months ago. OK this isn’t really what my blog is about, but it started me thinking. Sometimes I wonder where my next entry will take me and then it suddenly comes to me. In this case it came to me as I listened to the music…

Side note: The music was incredible. Doc and the rest of the band were absolutely inspirational! They played a wide array of music from all parts of the world.

Back to my Blog…

When I was young I used to bang on everything. It was obvious that I wanted to be a drummer. As luck would have it my parents had some friends whose son had a marching snare drum in his closet. My Mom would go over to visit while their son was in school and I was allowed to play in his room. Many times I would get the drum out and beat on it. In the beginning I would just hold a drumstick and make noise, but then I began to watch how the stick bounced. The problem was… how was I going to hold two drum sticks?

I wish I could remember with more accuracy what happened over time. I just remember trying many things and many ways to somehow hold two drumsticks. The problem wasn’t holding two drumsticks it was making them move that seemed to be the issue.

I really wanted to play the drums. Tonight as the music played, my feet were tapping and when no one was looking I was banging on the table. Old habits die hard! It’s just natural with me.

I began to put the two drumsticks against my side, placing my arms over the drumsticks and pressing them against my side. Still nothing happened. I wonder how many times I tried different techniques. One day something happened… I began to use my elbows to move the drum sticks up and down. Little by little I began to make them bounce on the head of the drum. With more practice I made them move evenly, hit evenly. In other words… with rhythm.

I remember that moment when I knew that I could do it. I think I even called my Mom and her friend into the room. I knew! I had figured it out. I had done it. I knew I could do it. (This was somewhere before the age of 8. I wish I could get closer but I don’t remember.

At the end of the 5th grade it was time to sign up for band. Band began in the 6th grade. I remember my parents going with me to an event held at night where parents signed their kids up for band. I won’t go into much detail, mainly because my memory is so fuzzy. I do remember the band director having doubts about me being able to play the drum, but… The next thing I remember is that my parent’s and I went to buy me a drum at a large music store.

Skipping to the 8th grade, because I did play the drums and I was pretty good at it so I made it through two years of band. In the 8th grade I joined the marching band. We lived in Texas and football season is hot. It was grueling, but I did it. Marching band was especially difficult because the drum sat low and moved when you marched, but somehow I survived. In addition, I played competitions and did well in several events.

I ended my drumming career at the end of the 9th grade. In the 10th grade I entered into Man and His Environment, the three hour a day class that I’ve talked about in previous blogs which prevented me from being able to continue.

I’ll talk more in the next blog about the meaning of this period of my life… But yes… I did play the snare drum.

(28th Entry) Thoughts on the last two entries…

I’ve been thinking about the last two entries since writing them. I remember my Mom having a very difficult time trying to reason with me or at least getting me to calm down even a little at the amusement park. She was out of luck that day. I don’t think anyone or anything could have settled me down that day. I was absolutely livid… and probably out of control.

On both days I was extremely upset. What were the differences? One is that the driver’s license was a finite event. I wanted my driver’s license and went there with that specific purpose. Also the fact that it was a legal setting might have something to do with it.

At the amusement park there were many things going on. I was proactive when arriving to the park. I met with the manager on duty. I had an idea of what might happen that day. When I did get removed from rides it was as if I had done the “right thing” and was still suffering consequences.

More importantly, these were rides that I had ridden all of my life. There were no knew rides that I had never ridden. Something was being taken away from me. Not only was something being taken away, but I had done my best to prepare for it.

I was also almost five years older, 21, the day that the amusement park incident took place. Now in most people’s minds that probably translate as… I should have been more mature, but… For me, I was probably more confused and angry at this point in life. I was in the middle of that struggle of being the same and different. I didn’t have any idea what I was going to do with my life and how I was ultimately going to survive on my own.

I recall the attorney from the park the next day basically telling me to sue them if I didn’t like what had happened to me. There was no ADA in 1981 so the legal issue was probably a little more obscure.

Unfortunately even at the time I probably realized that if two people had been injured on a ride equally while sitting next to each and had I been one of them… I probably could have elicited a greater settlement than a “normal” individual. A good attorney could have played “the sympathy card” and probably made out quit well.

Right or wrong this is a fact of life. As much as I want to be the same there will always be some differences. Some positive, some negative!

What is the “right way” to act in these situations? I think ultimately it has to be up to each individual. As for me, I wish that I had been a little more in control at the amusement park. By being out of control, I didn’t accomplish anything. I caused a lot of anguish for my family and for myself.

Did I have a right to be upset? Should I have been upset? Absolutely!

It becomes that old question… How do I fight for what I want and yet maintain my own integrity?

(27th Entry) No fun for me at the amusement park…

Growing up I always loved to ride the rides at the Texas State Fair or Six Flags Over Texas. My family always went together and rode all of the rides. I never remember having any problems or not being allowed to ride any of the rides other than the normal height requirement for all kids when young.

The first time I ever encountered a question was around the age of 15 when I wanted to ride the old wooded roller coaster at the State Fair of Texas. Someone asked some questions, I said that I always rode the rides and that was that.

In the summer of 1979 I was at Six Flags and I wanted to ride one of the large roller coasters. I was held up at the entrance and wasn’t going to be allowed on… However I just happened to have a camp friend that was working that ride and she was able to easily slip me through the exit line where I rode it. By the way both of these rides were incredible. I really like roller coasters… rides of all type.

In the summer of 1981 I was going to Six Flags with my Mom, my aunt, my brother and cousin. I knew that times were changing. I’m not for sure how I knew, but I did. When we arrived at the park that day I immediately asked to speak with the manager on duty. After a short wait, he arrived. I asked him what problems I was going to encounter that day. After some negotiation, we decided that I could ride all the rides except the three major roller coasters. However reluctant I was to this agreement, I went along with because I was with my family.

Like so many of my stories, the exact order of things probably have been skewed over the years, but the essence remain true. I believe the first ride we went to was the “putt-putt cars”… those old fashion model t cars maybe. I was in a car with my cousin who was around 12 or 13 years old. He was driving and I was just the passenger. Before we were allowed to leave the starting point I was asked to get out because it was dangerous for me. Now the irony is that my cousin was allowed to continue through the course. This is an irony because my cousin is legally blind and still doesn’t drive to this day.

Needless to say I wasn’t happy. I know that this happened several more times on other rides with me going each time back the front office and “yelling” of course. I’m sure my indignation became more and more apparent. In fact I can promise you I was outright hostile after awhile or perhaps from the beginning.

Eventually we went to ride this ride that was a giant boat/ship that held 40 to 60 people perhaps. Half the boat faced one end and the other side faced back. I got on the boat along with the rest of my family and before the ride could start I was asked to get off. Well… that was the final straw. I had had it. I stood up and gave a short and probably not so eloquent speech which included language that probably could have been left out. I basically said I had been kicked off many rides and that I wasn’t getting off this ride that people probably should get off because the ride wasn’t going to start because I wasn’t getting off.

I was so pissed this day that I don’t think I remember what the reactions were from those around. I do remember at this point my Mom trying to get me to get off the boat ride… She did succeed. I did get off, but I wasn’t happy about it. I think I did get a little support from some of the other visitors.

A couple of things I do remember… When I got off this ride a well known reporter who covered showbiz was standing with her camera person at the exit to this ride. I told her what I was going through, but she wasn’t able to film because she was working on a story. She said she might be interested on another day perhaps. After this incident a person from the park followed us around the rest of the day to make sure that I was allowed to ride the rides that had been agreed too.

I spent a good part of the next day on the phone with the parks attorneys out of California.

Sidenote: I’m not an expert on, but I believe that the ADA… American’s with Disabilities Act specifically states that amusement parks have the right to refuse rides to anyone with a disability.

I’m telling a few stories and hopefully will follow with some sort of conclusion as to why these events in my life have meaning… both positive and negative.