Inabilities don't mean people are incapable
We offer a musical dedication to people who seem to think that people who are less adroit are less human: "Why Am I Treated So Bad," by the Staple Singers.
Many people agree that one of the most brilliant minds on the planet right now churns inside the head of Stephen W. Hawking. The British astrophysicist and mathematics professor has been able to explain some of the great mysteries of the universe that had stumped scientists for hundreds of years.
People love the man. Much of his appeal is his playfulness — he makes bets with other scientists or offers monetary challenges to anybody who can solve a particular scientific problem or prove one of his theories wrong. Instead of writing about whether events in the universe follow a cosmic order or occur randomly, he poses the question as, "Does God play dice?"
As active and impressive as Hawking’s mind is, it is locked in a body that can barely move. Amyotropic lateral sclerosis — Lou Gherig disease — is slowly shutting down his body.
Hawking claims he doesn’t worry too much about it, though.
"I am quite often asked: How do you feel about having ALS? The answer is, not a lot," he states on his Web site www.hawking.org.uk. "I try to lead as normal a life as possible, and not think about my condition, or regret the things it prevents me from doing, which are not that many."
He communicates through a computer attached to his motorized wheelchair. A program allows him to scan menus on the screen and choose words by pressing a switch. Once he has composed what he wants to say, he either saves it to disc or sends it to a speech synthesizer that talks for him.
"I have had motor neurone disease for practically all my adult life. Yet it has not prevented me from having a very attractive family, and being successful in my work." Hawking states on his Web site.
He isn’t the only person who doesn’t let an inability become a disability. While I was learning the journalism ropes at the University of Texas at Arlington in the late 1980s, I received a great deal of instruction and even more inspiration from the college newspaper adviser, John Dycus.
From his own wheelchair, Dycus typed by hitting keys with the knuckle of an otherwise frozen hand; yet he edited copy faster and better than the able-bodied members of the newspaper staff. As adviser he taught and counseled students so well that major newspapers often sought to hire them over people who already had professional experience.
At the same university Butch McBroom built one of the most impressive athletic coaching records in Texas history, guiding the varsity baseball team to more than 750 victories over a 26-year career that at one point included a streak of 14 consecutive years with 30 or more wins. He also coached the UTA softball team for a while, leading it to the national tournament in 1977.
Most of those wins came after McBroom had lost a leg to cancer. He usually, but not always, wore a prosthetic leg and got around just fine on crutches, and whenever the need arose he had no problem going out onto the field to offer a few choice words to a struggling pitcher or a blind umpire.
Herald readers readers familiar with Charles Krauthammer’s columns that appear most Fridays know he’s a staunch believer in personal responsibility and taking care of oneself.
Krauthammer, who won the 1987 Pulitzer Prize for commentary, was a practicing doctor before beginning his writing career. All this despite the fact that he became paralyzed while still a medical student.
Other people have led productive and profitable lives with various infirmities. Texas Attorney General Greg Abbott works from a wheelchair, and the inability to walk didn’t keep Franklin Roosevelt from becoming, in the eyes of many, our greatest president. He certainly was one of the most ambitious.
I think of these people when I see people in wheelchairs begging for money on street corners. Most appear quite lucid and even creative, chatting with drivers as they wait for the light to change, or popping wheelies as they wait for the next batch of cars to stop. Some say they’re veterans, injured in one of our many military actions.
Most of them seem resigned to their lot of asking for handouts. Some even seem to enjoy it. But they generally seem to think there’s nothing else they can do.
I have much less of a problem as these people do; I’ve been hobbling around the past few months with a broken hip. I sense the daily improvements and know that I’m going to be OK. And I’m fortunate that I already had a desk job and could return to work shortly after I left the hospital.
Mostly, however, I’ve been fortunate that I’ve seen, and known, so many people who didn’t let physical limitations prevent them from living productive lives.
We often hear people lament the steady loss of manual jobs — work in factories or on farms that is sent overseas or lost to automation. But there are plenty of positions in the rapidly growing service sector. Increasingly, America’s economy is driven by banking, technology and other jobs that rely more on the mind than on the body.
Many of those people on our curbsides could do those jobs. All they need is the right training to do it, and the motivation to try.
One obstacle, however, is public perception. During the time I used a wheelchair or walker, I found many people — some who already knew me — talk down to me or ignore me altogether. It’s as if they thought the inability to walk also means an inability to think.
Think of all the jobs people can do with limited mobility — bank tellers, computer programmers, teachers, newspaper reporters, even CEOs. I know a paraplegic who ran his own successful jewelry store.
A little public acceptance could bring some of the beggars in off the streets and into productive, full-time jobs. Perhaps the greatest gift we could give them isn’t a handout, but a hand up.
Carlos A. Rodriguez is opinion editor for The Brownsville Herald. His e-mail address is crodriguez@brownsvilleherald.com.
