A Story About How We Can All Make a Difference - Suicide Awareness Day, September 10th

The Story of Kyle (Authur Unknown)

One day, when I was a freshman in high school, I saw a kid from my class walking home from school. His name was Kyle. It looked like he was carrying all of his books. I thought to myself, “Why would anyone bring home all his books on a Friday? He must really be a nerd.”

I had quite a weekend planned (parties and a football game with my friends tomorrow afternoon), so I shrugged my shoulders and went on. As I was walking, I saw a bunch of kids running toward him. They ran at him, knocking all his books out of his arms and tripping him so he landed in the dirt. His glasses went flying, and I saw them land in the grass about ten feet from him. He looked up, and I saw this terrible sadness in his eyes.

My heart went out to him. So I jogged over to him, and as he crawled around looking for his glasses, I saw a tear in his eye. As I handed him his glasses, I said, “Those guys are jerks. They really should get lives.” He looked at me and said, “Hey thanks!” There was a big smile on his face. It was one of those smiles that showed real gratitude.

I helped him pick up his books and asked him where he lived. As it turned out, he lived near me, so I asked him why I had never seen him before. He said he had gone to private school before now. I would have never hung out with a private school kid before, but we talked all the way home, and I carried his books.

He turned out to be a pretty cool kid. I asked him if he wanted to play football on Saturday with me and my friends. He said yes.

We hung out all weekend, and the more I got to know Kyle, the more I liked him. And my friends thought the same of him. Monday morning came, and there was Kyle with the huge stack of books again. I stopped him and said, “Boy, you are gonna really build some serious muscles with this pile of books everyday!” He just laughed and handed me half the books.

Over the next four years, Kyle and I became best friends. When we were seniors, we began to think about college. Kyle decided on Georgetown, and I was going to Duke. I knew that we would always be friends, that the miles would never be a problem. He was going to be a doctor, and I was going for business on a football scholarship.

Kyle was valedictorian of our class. I teased him all the time about being a nerd. He had to prepare a speech for graduation. I was so glad it wasn’t me having to get up there and speak.

On graduation day, I saw Kyle. He looked great. He was one of those guys that really found himself during high school. He filled out and actually looked good in glasses. He had more dates than me and all the girls loved him! Boy, sometimes I was jealous. Today was one of those days. I could see that he was nervous about his speech, so I smacked him on the back and said, “Hey, big guy, you’ll be great!” He looked at me with one of those looks (the really grateful one) and smiled. “Thanks,” he said.

As he started his speech, he cleared his throat, and began. “Graduation is a time to thank those who helped you make it through those tough years. Your parents, your teachers, your siblings, maybe a coach — but mostly your friends. I am here to tell all of you that being a friend to someone is the best gift you can give them. I am going to tell you a story.” I just looked at my friend with disbelief as he told the story of the first day we met. He had planned to kill himself over the weekend. He talked of how he had cleaned out his locker so his mom wouldn’t have to do it later and was carrying his stuff home. He looked hard at me and gave me a little smile. “Thankfully, I was saved. My friend saved me from doing the unspeakable.”

I heard the gasp go through the crowd as this handsome, popular boy told us all about his weakest moment. I saw his mom and dad looking at me and smiling that same grateful smile. Not until that moment did I realize its depth.

Never underestimate the power of your actions. With one small gesture, you can change a person’s life.

Tables Turned

- By Stephanie Hickey -

I am forever barred from ever accompanying my father on another one of his doctor’s appointments. Before I explain why, let me explain that from the time I was two, my parents have been taking extra care of me because I was a child with a disability. They attended every doctor’s appointment, therapy session and were always by side to ensure that I followed my therapists and doctors’ orders to the letter. And their constant nagging frustrated and infuriated me to no end!

Let me tell you all about my father. Joseph (I will not reveal his middle name on the internet because he really will kill me) Hickey had worked from the age of sixteen. And from that age through the next thirty-eight years on, he always did hard physical labor. My father worked in the hottest or coldest temperatures, was the first one to arrive and the last to leave. And he took pride that he was a man who worked hard to provide for his family. As someone born in the fifties, my father has the-male-provides-for-family mentality ingrained in his bones, along with an I-must-suffer-in-silence mentality. After working those sixteen hour days in the harshest conditions, Daddy would be there at the hospital when I woke up. He would sit and watch Foghorn Leghorn cartoons (doing impressions of Foghorn to make me laugh) and eat green jello with me.

Now, at his age, and after all those years of physically punishing his body, he cannot work any longer. And Daddy is starting to need taking care of. Having Cerebral Palsy, I worry about my parents aging--their bodies and health deteriorating--because I do not have the strength to care for them. But my going to his doctor’s showed me that I can care for my parents.

My father did not want me to go with him, but my mother asked me to, because we both knew he would down-play his condition. I convinced my father to let me tag-along by promising to be a good girl and stay quiet. I made this promise with the knowledge that once my dad and I were back there, I could relay to his physician all of the symptoms my father wanted to ignore and my father would not say anything to me because we were not alone.

This is just what I did. While Daddy just muttered, “Oh I only feel a little…”, disregarding his symptoms, I let him go on, but I spoke up adding, “Actually, Dr. Blank, my daddy has been feeling more…more…and more…” And while I said all this, Daddy glared at me with a “just-wait-‘til-we-get-home” look.

I delighted in Daddy’s reaction, because he now knew that it isn’t all that fun to have someone interfering in your medical treatment, even if it is someone who loves you. It made me laugh, remembering all those years he has been nipping at my back nagging that I walk heel-toe, heel-toe and asking, “Did you do your exercises today?” It also made me realize that even if I don’t have the physical capability to care for my parents, I still can ensure they get the best care. And don’t worry daddy, I know that you are still a far, far way away from that.

Ten Ways To Advocate For Change

- By Barbara Davis -

In today’s economy it is likely that many of us are feeling frustrated over budget cuts, lack of jobs and reduction in services. We may feel that our politicians are letting us down in the laws they enact or don’t. It is easy to become complacent and think there is nothing we can do. Fortunately, this is not true. Below are ten ways we can advocate for change on both the local and federal level.
 
Vote.
Presidential, state and local elections are equal in importance. The mayor, city council members, state legislators and other officials write or enforce laws that impact our daily lives, while the President and Congress work on similar issues on the federal level.

Join support groups, councils and coalitions.
Some groups provide advocacy and support. Councils and coalitions offer opportunities to advocate for improvements in transportation, housing, education, etc. If you do not know of any specific groups, councils or coalitions in your area that advocate for your particular interest, search the internet for this information.

Call or write your legislators.
Legislators know who can hire and fire them, and they pay attention to these voices. If there is an issue important to you, let your legislator know. Participate in calling and writing campaigns when asked to do so. Better yet, visit them when they’re in their local office if you can.

Don’t take “no” for an answer.
Find out who else you can talk to or what appeal process is in place, and proceed accordingly.

Don’t assume a problem can’t be fixed, or a law can’t be changed.
If you want sidewalks in your neighborhood, find out where to start and go from there. It may take time and require a variety of methods, but if it is important to you, there are likely others who feel the same way. Start writing or calling campaigns, get a petition going, or join a council that is already working on the issue. If you gather enough support, the sidewalks will come.

Attend rallies and public meetings. 
Officials of schools, transportation and other service providers pay attention at packed public meetings. If you want more services, increased funding or improved neighborhoods, go to these meetings and have your say. Large rallies can have the same affect. When legislators realize a large number of their constituents have certain views, they take notice, and vote on impending legislation accordingly.

Participate in surveys, focus groups and questionnaires.
Companies who produce technology and provide services want our input. Changes in healthcare, transportation, assistive technology and education have all come about due to surveys and focus group participation.

Google it.
Google can tell you where to write your legislators, how to start a support group, and who to talk to about the neighborhood sidewalks.

Go public with your issue.
Utilize social media to post videos or voice an opinion. Write articles online, address a letter to the editor of your local newspaper, start a petition on Change.org, or contact your local TV station with a story idea.

Photo Credit: Flickr

Becoming An Effective Advocate

[Uncle Sam image]

- By David Allgood - 

Being a citizen advocate is really an easy thing to do; but being easy does not make it less important. I cannot stress enough what an impact your letters, emails and phone calls make to our elective officials. These actions have already made a huge difference in restoring funds for the aging and disabled populations in Kentucky. If the current legislation at the time of this printing passes the State Senate, then we will have restored $10 million over the next two years.

I encourage you, your family members and your friends to register to vote, if you are not already registered, and make sure that you actually vote on election day. Legislators pay attention to individuals who actually vote and have the ability to hire or fire them through their votes.

Get to know your local, state and federal representatives. Hopefully you can set up a meeting in person when they are at home in their district. Let them know who you are, and what issues are important to you. They work for you and they actually look forward to gaining a base of knowledge that they may not have had before your interaction with them. Make yourself the go-to person when they are dealing with issues that are relevant to individuals in the disability community. You may not have the money that the big lobbyists have, but you do have the power of the ballot, and this could determine whether the elected officials keep their jobs or lose it.

So get yourself, your family and friends involved in this process because a large number of involved individuals can truly make a difference.

The 2012 KY primary election is May 22. You must be a registered voter by April 23 to participate. CAL has voter registration cards which you can come by and fill out if you need to register. For more information visit http://elect.ky.gov/.

Quad Rugby National Championships in Louisville THIS WEEKEND!

- By Keith Hosey -

The United States Quad Rugby Association’s (USQRA) Nationals have returned to Louisville this year. This is a full contact sport like you’ve never seen before. Called Murderball by some, Quad Rugby or Wheelchair Rugby is a “full-contact sport, [where] they smash the hell out of each other in custom-made gladiator-like wheelchairs…. In addition to smashing chairs, it will smash every stereotype you ever had about the disabled.” (Quote from the Description of the movie Murderball).

A couple years ago, I took a teen volunteer group to a Quad Rugby event (quarter finals or something) here in Louisville. As a group we volunteered and, having seen the sport before, I knew it was great exposure to the disability world and would confront many of their possible stereotypes and attitudes about disabilities.  

I’m not sure what their thoughts were about disability before the event, I think I heard one of them refer to it as a “Special Olympics” event.  The tone was not specifically derogatory but a very matter-of-fact, like much of the general public sees the Special Olympics, “that’s nice they have that, but they’re certainly not at a very high skill level” tone (Please know that I’m not knocking the Special Olympics. The athletes that compete in those events train really hard, do a great job, and deserve our respect). This event blew their stereotypes out of the water because these guys are just as athletic as LeBron and Peyton Manning and probably train twice as hard.

You have an excellent opportunity to see these world-class athletes up close and personal. Many of these players will also compete in the Paralympic Games http://www.london2012.com/paralympic-sport, in London right after the Olympic Games. These guys (and gals!) have more athleticism in their pinky than most people have in their whole able-bodies. If you are a true fan of sports, this is a must see event.

More Information, including the schedule, about the Quad Ruby Nationals In Louisville this weekend.

Mothers March -- A True Story

- By Cass Irvin -

Someone from the March of Dimes called my house shortly after I moved back to Kenwood Hill.  She was perky and pleasant and she told me all about the Mothers March.  No one from my neighborhood had, as of yet, volunteered to go door-to-door to collect and she noticed from my card in the files that I had collected in my neighborhood several years back.  She thought I was Mom.

She was calling to see if I'd be willing to do it again.  For one second I wanted to say what I heard my mom say when she didn't want to do something:  "Well, we have one of those here at home and I can't really leave her here all alone."

As I listened to the caller tell me how they wanted me to collect donations or leave information at each door, a little angel and a little devil fussed at each other in my brain.

Angel:  You can't say anything to her!  She can't see you.  She doesn't know!

Devil:  But how will she learn if someone doesn't tell her?

Angel:  You're saying it's for her own good, right?  You always say something like that when you want to justify meanness.  It will embarrass her.  It's not polite.  You have to be understanding and sympathetic toward people who aren't aware, who haven't had experience.

Devil:  You're too generous with people.  I'm tired of being the one who has to be generous, understanding and polite.

The caller paused.  She was waiting for my answer.

"Well," I said, "I think you have me confused with my mother.  I would be interested in helping out but I use a motorized wheelchair . . . . and since the houses in my neighborhood aren't accessible, I don't think I could do it.  But, thanks for asking."

Mothers March history
The March of Dimes is a well-known nonprofit group whose goal is to fight birth defects got its name and its start in the story of Franklin D. Roosevelt and Warm Springs, GA.

When Roosevelt started the Georgia Warm Springs Foundation, he wanted it to be a premier center for treating polio.  He soon realized treating polio wasn't enough--he wanted to find a way to prevent and cure it so he established the National Foundation for Infantile Paralysis, which later became the March of Dimes.

Originally, Roosevelt raised money by holding a ball in honor of his birthday every year. But it wasn't enough money.  Comedian Eddie Cantor, spoofing the popular March of Times newsreels, came up with the idea of a March of Dimes. President Roosevelt would urge all Americans to send him dimes in support of polio research.  He figured even in the height of the Depression, most people could afford a dime.  The first day, the foundation collected $17.50. But then the money kept pouring in for a total for 2.68 million dimes, or $268,000.

Over 60 years ago, parents in Phoenix, AZ organized a collection: "Turn on your porch light, fight polio tonight." In minutes, more than $45,000 was raised and the annual Mothers March Campaign was born. Mothers March is the first and longest-running March of Dimes fundraising event. What began as a door-to-door campaign to fight polio, a goal reached over five decades ago and has evolved into a campaign to give every baby a healthy start to life.

Today funds raised through Mothers March help fund lifesaving research and programs that help give more babies a healthy start to life.  Every year, hundreds of thousands of volunteers participate in this historic campaign, in communities all across America, to help raise funds and awareness.

Greater Kentucky Chapter Address: 4802 Sherburn Lane, #103, Louisville, KY 40207
Phone: (502) 895-3734    Email: KY365@marchofdimes.com
www.marchofdimes.com/kentucky/viewAllOffices.asp

Kentucky March events: www.marchofdimes.com/kentucky/4221.asp

Find the Funny

-- By Stephanie Hickey --

They say laughter is the best medicine. And I think this is true--especially in the case of our own disabilities. Living through a difficult situation taught me this. One of the facets of my disability is that I often lose my balance and frequently have a little wobble-wobble in my walk.

My grandfather developed Alzheimer’s and it devastated my family. He’d become disabled and no one in my family knew how to deal with the pain of that. A strange and funny facet of Grandpa’s disability is that he forgot that I had Cerebral Palsy. So when he’d see me trip or walk my wobble-wobble walk, he’d nudge my mother and mime drinking from a glass (to imply that I was drunk) and even went so far as to tell me that I needed to “lay off that hooch.” It bruised my heart to know that he’d forgotten my disability. I spent my childhood days at my grandparents, and my grandfather would sometimes be there during my therapy. He’d be sitting on the front porch watching my therapist and me jog around the block. How could he forget that? The reality of my grandfather losing his memories meant that we would lose him.

And you might think his self-explanation for my condition hurt even more, but the first time he’d made a crack. I found it funny--so I laughed. I laughed so hard! And it felt so good; it was a weird release for me (and my mother). Every time my grandfather would make a funny crack regarding my “alcoholism” (I soon began making jokes about my drinking problem) it made me laugh because I heard the affection in his voice. I could hear that he still cared for me and that eased my fear that I was losing him. Yes, he no longer knew I had CP, but he knew that I was I still someone he really cared for. Those moments also became some of the memories of my grandpa that I most cherish

It’s not the same as when someone points at you for walking funny or someone mimics the way you talk. But you finding the humor in your own disability can be strangely empowering. You are defining yourself, and in that definition a little self-effacing is always a good quality. And when I’m having a bad day--feeling low because I’ve hit some barrier in regards to my disability, I turn back to the memories of my grandpa and instantly feel better. Finding the funny in your disability is not easy because--for many of us--has been a point of mocking and/or cruelty from others, but it is possible. Even if it’s as simple as saying a word wrong, don’t be afraid to laugh about it. Embrace those embarrassing, silly moments because they can become great memories that give you strength to get through the bad days that we all have.

Photo Credit Flickr: http://www.flickr.com/photos/jcolman/2344915398/