I’ve written fairly extensively on Daily Kos about people I love. My spouse, my son, my brother, my family. Like every other human being, I like to think of myself as the hero in my own story. That doesn’t, however, mean that we can’t recognize that sometimes we don’t do things because we are great or because they are heroic. We do them because if we don’t, we may never be able to forgive ourselves.
This is the life of a parent and family member who loves someone with a disability. Growing up prior to the Americans with Disabilities Act, I saw first hand the difficulties faced by my brother, a person born with Osteogenisis Imperfecta, in gaining access to schools.
My brother was schooled at home, for the most part, thanks to the lack of accessible buildings. Classrooms were not ready for his chair and needs. At home, with a paraprofessional, he could be provided a curriculum that would suit him, one that he managed on his own for years.
1990 seems so long ago. Being 15 years old? Seems like a lifetime. I sat in the audience of the National Geographic Building in Washington DC to watch my younger brother, my best friend, compete for the National Geographic Bee.
For years, students like my brother were denied access to educational resources. After some bitter fights to make sure the school would provide him access, our family saw the best and worst in people.
The road to DC was not easy. At the state competition earlier in Topeka, he competed with a serious injury due to an accident, a broken bone — he had more than 200 fractures by this point, and laid down on the floor in Topeka to propel his way to the national finals.
I was dumbstruck. In awe. Welcomed in the US Senate by our senator, Robert Dole, we were given some trinkets, handshakes, and time to talk to the senator, who I would run into many times over the next few years. Senator Dole explained to us that he, too, was a person with a disability, and that he was excited that someone like Tom had made it so far in an academic competition. The expectations were so low for persons with disabilities, it seemed. Senator Dole said something in that meeting he repeated on other occasions later, including his presidential run. That giving those with disabilities opportunities was not just the morally right thing, it was the economically just thing, and that he would stand up for those with disabilities.
Until he didn’t.
Standing on stage with the 45th President, retired Senator Bob Dole shook hands, and sat silent. He had endorsed a man who went out of his way to attack the people that once upon a time he had promised to defend. In Kansas, the senators who filled his seat voted in favor of Betsy Devos, an anti-education Billionaire, who had spoken ill of IEPs, while advocating charter programs that often exclude children like mine.
This morning, like many parents who love a child who faces unique education challenges, I received an email notifying me that Idea.Gov was gone. Idea.ed.gov was gone.
We were back to the old days, pre Bush--no, not George W Bush, pre George HW Bush, the days where Americans with disabilities were not sure what happens next.
Sometimes, there are no choices.
We all want to be the hero. I think it is built into our genes. In 2008, I exited our house in Kansas, engulfed in flames and realized that my oldest son, a person with a mental disability who had accidentally started the fire was still inside.
He was afraid. I do not know if he was afraid of the fire or afraid he would be blamed for starting it. Rather than exit, he ran to his room and hid under his bed. I turned to my wife outside and knew that our son was still waiting inside.
The lie we tell ourselves is that we do something brave when you run back in to fetch a loved one. The problem is, I knew instantly for myself it wasn’t true at all. The truth is, I ran back in because I only had two choices to make: to stand outside and forsake my humanity, letting something horrible happen, or I could do the only thing that matters and go in and get my son.
Millions of Americans right now are in the same position I am. They love someone who will be adversely impacted by an administration that does not understand the impact that IDEA and educational opportunities have changed our country for the better on behalf of those with disabilities.
I look back through the photos of my son, the one to the left, months after our fire in 2008, and it reminds me of the position we are in today with the Trump administration.
Over the last few weeks, I have had the opportunity to speak with several elected officials, campaign officers, candidates for national party offices and state and local chairs.
I get asked a lot of questions about how elections look, what opportunities are out there, and how do we get better, not just as a party, but as a nation.
I remind them all of this: we are at a crossroads in history. For many of us, even if you do not recognize it, the building is on fire. We can fight, with all of our strength, to protect as many as we can. Not because it makes us great people, but because if we do anything else we will never, ever forgive ourselves for our failure to show leadership and do the right thing.
I hope we all remember this: supporting our fellow human being requires a finite amount of courage. Refusing to do so is a commitment to a lifetime of regret, and there will always be reminders.
Save yourself that agony. Do the right thing. It may seem difficult to stay in opposition for so long, but for millions of Americans — like my son — the damage of this administration will impact the rest of their lives.
Could you live with yourself if, faced with the chance, you did not do everything in your power?
I cannot.
Wednesday, Feb 8, 2017 · 10:50:48 PM +00:00 · Chris Reeves
Update:
Some have noted the site, after several hours, now says technical difficulties. That said, the reason why so many of us are watching is because we have appointed someone who is opposed to this concept. Whether it is today or tomorrow, we know that battle is coming. And we are all waiting.