Electric EDGE |
Labor Day Weekend's just not the same
"We call it a Star Fest now." These were responses Ragged Edge got when it asked the National Easter Seal Society and United Cerebral Palsy Associations about their telethons. Though the Telethon We Love To Hate -- the Muscular Dystrophy Association Jerry Lewis Labor Day Telethon -- is still cranking it out, telethons for cripple cures may very well be dying out. That's what disability scholar Paul Longmore suspects, and calls this summer seemed to prove him right. Fewer hours, fewer "markets" (cities that carry the shows). This past spring, says Longmore, activists in Chicago never even heard about the Easter Seal telethon being on the air -- and Chicago is the home of Easter Seals. There's no more national UCP telethon either -- only a 4-hour nationally produced video that UCP chapters can use at hometown TV stations to pep up local fundraisers. Nobody admits to raising less money, but Longmore's convinced the "return on investment is not that good" anymore. MDA says it raises more $$ each year, though it didn't supply figures, despite repeated requests from Ragged Edge. Maybe they are raising as much money as ever. Tote-board histrionics has always been a shell game. Fundraising charities include all sorts of money sources when they ring up those grand totals at the end of the teary hours. What does seem clear is that the teary hours themselves are getting -- well, less teary. And though nobody says so, it also seems clear that what did it were the telethon protests of the early 1990s by Jerry's Orphans, aided and abetted by the late Evan Kemp. Longmore, who has miles of video of MDA telethons of years past, says he can trace patterns in MDA's approach based directly on public criticism. When critics protested, the Telethon changed. When protests waned, reforms MDA trotted out -- advisory groups, achievement awards -- waned as well. Telethon criticism has had an effect beyond MDA. A staffer at UCPA volunteered that "historically people with disabilities have been treated as secondary people." (Though she didn't come out and say their telethon had done this.) "It wasn't bad before, but we have moved with the times," she said.
An Easter Seals staffer said that the organization was in the process of phasing out their telethon, candidly nothing that "we feel it's not an effective strategy anymore. We want to position ourselves as a service provider for people with disabilities, rather than a charity." They wanted to avoid "pity," she said, in a tone that made pity sound like a 4-letter word.
A redesigned $50 bill hits the street this fall amid much U. S. Treasury hoopla about the note's alleged "feature making the note more accessible" to the "low-vision community." It and subsequent bills will have "a large dark numeral on a light background on the back of the note that will make it easier" to see. Fine. What the Treasury doesn't mention is its ongoing refusal to make bills that would help not only low-vision but all people who can't see: bills of different sizes to denote different denominations, or bills with raised (embossed) symbols or Braille identifications, something blind activists have wanted for years. Although other countries routinely issue paper currency of different sizes, making it easy to know the bill's denomination, the U.S. calls this "impractical."
HUD to Austin, TX:
Disabled immigrants' benefits restored
FDR wheelchair now law
Court votes accesss
Four years later, ho hum
The Medicaid Community Attendant Services Act, HR 2020 -- activists call it MiCASA --requires that anyone now "entitled" to nursing home or other institutional services through Medicaid be given "a choice where and how these services are provided." As ADAPT has long advocated, the bill lets "the money follow the individual." "There is no known medical reason why help with dressing, bathing, eating, toiletting and ventilator care has to be provided in an institutional setting," says ADAPT's Mike Auberger.
Though the bill would effect an historic change in how this country treats people with severe disabilities, there has been virtually no press coverage of either HR 2020 or a similar Senate bill, S879, which would also require Medicaid to fund in-home services. S879 is more attractive to many activists because it seems to offer more "consumer control" than the MiCASA bill does. Congressional insiders give it less chance of passage, though, simply due to partisan politics.
"Hopefully this doesn't become a contest," says ADAPT's Mark Johnson. "Let's get hearings. Let's testify. Let's draft language that would make both bills better" with the goal of getting a law "signed by the President in 1998."
ADA WATCH 'N' WAIT
The Americans with Disabilities Act, passed over seven years ago, was supposed to ensure access to buildings. But when the Architec-tural and Transportation Barriers Compliance Board (the group responsible for writing the access rules for the Act) decided to take a road trip to Louisville, KY (home of Ragged Edge) for a town meeting this Nov. 12 and 13, Louisville organizers worried that no hotel in the city could accommodate a large group of folks with disabilities -- and said so, publicly.
An article in last January's Courier Journal, though, didn't do much to put the fear of the law into area hotels. When an ATBCB staffer arrived weeks later to check out Louisville hotels for access, says Nancy Durham of Louisville's Metro Disability Coalition, a downtown Holiday Inn out-and-out told him they were "doing the bare minimum under the ADA. They said it twice!" recalled Durham, surprised that the hotelier didn't seem to grasp that the ATBCB was responsible for the rules on access laws! No hotels were spurred to beef up access for the group, although the Hyatt Regency did come through with the requisite number of rooms as well as TDDs and other access items.
In Louisville, the Board will listen to comments about the constantly-evolving access rules the Board continues to work on (last spring it issued rules for access to telecommunications; next up are recreation sites). Organizers hope crips turn out in force to speak their mind.
Maybe the attitude of those who balk on access isn't surprising. Disability advocates rarely officially file comments on proposed access rules, say those close to the Board. The Access Board hears constantly, though, from groups opposed to access. With no ammunition supporting the fact that "the public" wants strong access rules, the Board has little choice but to follow the "public" they do hear from -- those who oppose access.
This, anyhow, is one explanation for why the Access Board appears to have wimped out, as was charged recently by one publication.
"Blueprint for Segregation," in the June/July issue of Mainstream magazine, fumed that the Board requires just half the entrances in newly built structures be accessible, lets newly built restaurants have inaccessible areas and lets existing buildings ignore access altogether in areas not serving a "primary function."
"It's time to stop congratulating ourselves on the passage of the ADA. It's time to stop being so damn grateful that we're allowed in the mainstream community at all, and start demanding real equality," says the article, calling the Board's work "sanctified segregation." Others say the problem isn't with the Board so much as with activists -- who grouse but fail to submit strong pro-access comments during the rulemaking process.
If you want to make comments about access, or come to the meeting, contact the Access Board at 800/872-2253 (TDD: 800/993-2823); email at ola@access-board.gov -- or by writing to 1331 F. St., NW, Suite 1000, Washington, DC 20004-1111.
Some things I can do [are]: feed myself, shave, brush my teeth, comb my hair, manage my finances ... travel anywhere my power chair will take me (once I'm up in it), type, make politicians and others aware of dangerous situations for people with disabilities ...
I cannot maintain and clean my residence, reach most places, walk, prepare my own meals, bathe, control my bladder and bowels, dress myself ... without assistance . ...
I ... require digital stimulation bowel care three times a week. ... Two home healthcare agencies have discharged me from Medicare coverage [for bowel care] because they have seen me going down the sidewalk in my wheelchair. Because of this they consider me "not homebound." They ignore the fact that I need someone to dress me and get me ... to [the] wheelchair ... I know of others who have been discharged from home healthcare (bowel care) because they attend job training or school on a regular basis. They are considered "not homebound." This makes no sense at all. Their training would eventually lead to a job and reduction or total elimination of their need for Social Security Disability payments. ...
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