By SALLIE SATTERTHWAITE
sallies@juno.com

Last week marked the tenth anniversary of the Americans with Disabilities Act, and I was disappointed to learn that disabled persons are not much more independent now than they were in 1990.

For most people, it takes having a family member in a wheelchair, or a bout with carpal tunnel syndrome, or a period of time on crutches to get even an inkling of what many of our neighbors live with day in and day out. We go merrily on our way, oblivious to the simplest adjustments that could make life easier for those with impairments.

Now let me assure you I have no patience with people who try to take advantage of their situation, especially those whose disability is of their own making, such as gross obesity or substance abuse, and I know how complicated it is to sort out genuine from frivolous allegations of discrimination. I confess to resenting the fact that handicapped parking places sometimes seem excessive and parking permits are often abused by able-bodied relatives.

I'm aware of the cost of many of the accommodations people with limited mobility require. I'll even admit I'm approaching this strictly from compassion, not from expertise or even research. But seeing Braille lettering inscribed side-by-side with text in a zoo got me thinking: The inclusion of Braille in no way impairs my reading about the native habitat of lemurs, yet its exclusion would bar a blind person from the same information.

By the same token, the installation of wide doors and grab bars in public restrooms doesn't get in my way — in fact, the creakier my knees, the more often I head for the so-called “handicapped” stalls — but their absence may make a routine pit stop impossible for a disabled person. (Sign seen in England: “Disabled toilet in the rear.”)

I can get into a building to which steps alone provide access, but a person using a wheelchair cannot. A ramp will in no way limit me and will provide him with a way in, so why not ramp every entrance and skip the stairs? I may not need flashing warnings or beeping sounds at street crossings or in the doors of public transportation, but they don't hinder me and are essential for hearing or sight-impaired pedestrians.

Retro-fitting existing buildings with elevators, ramps, voice-activated entrances, low counters and accommodations I haven't even thought of would be very costly, and I can't imagine requiring that across the board. But is there any reason building codes could not be updated with the physically impaired in mind? Accommodations could and should be automatically built into new structures.

And radical as it may sound, I mean all new structures. Our homes would be just as comfortable to us, would perhaps feel even more spacious, if doorways and hallways were wide, shower stalls level with the floor, and had slopes leading from one level to another instead of stairways. Most of the houses being built today are large enough to accept these modifications and I think their resale value would be enhanced.

A side benefit, by the way, would be improved accessibility to rescue workers charged with hauling Aunt Bertha out to the ambulance after she falls and breaks her hip in a bathroom the size of a linen closet. Ask the next paramedic you talk to what it's like to weave a gurney down a narrow hallway with a right angle turn in it, and she may tell you that the heaviest patients are usually in the remotest bedroom in the house — and upstairs.

Here's another idea: Teach American sign language from pre-kindergarten on. Kids learn language effortlessly if properly taught from an early age. ASL parallels English, of course, although there are certainly differences, but the gap between ASL and foreign sign languages is less than between oral languages.

Teaching little kids ASL offers several benefits beside the obvious, the inclusion of hearing-impaired persons in mainstream conversation. For one thing, recent research has indicated that infants who are taught some very basic gestures to go with words do much better in language skills later on. Why not use ASL for those gestures?

And imagine the advantage of being able to communicate across a busy restaurant. “George! Great to see you! When did you get back?” “Just this morning, and we got the contract. How's the salmon?” “Better go with the blackened mahi-mahi.”

Even better, you could “talk” in church or the library without disturbing others. I suppose, however, restrictions would have to be drawn against using ASL on the highway. Cell phones are bad enough, and usually require only one hand. ASL requires two.

While we're at it, let's really take a leap here. Why relegate wheelchair athletes to Olympic leftovers? Why not integrate wheelchair races and basketball into the regular Olympic lineups? I don't mean having wheelchairs and able players competing against each other — obviously there's a safety factor there — but schedule their competitions the same day as the other track or court events instead of three weeks later when the crowds are gone.

Some sports, by the way, can accommodate anyone. Marksmanship comes to mind. Give the able-bodied the option of sitting down if they prefer. You don't have to stand up to shoot a rifle. Sure, I'm fantasizing a little here. In a perfect world, there would be no barriers to the comings and goings and communication of people, regardless of ability. Heck, in a perfect world there would be no disabilities. But to play the cards we are dealt, it seems to me that the able-bodied would be inconvenienced precious little if at all by a modicum of improvements that could give the disabled independence — which is all most of them want anyhow.

Back to the Top of the PageBack to the Weekend Home Page