It finally hit me.

Those of us who have fully stepped into the new work Starfire is doing (3C’s, 5VE) are able to do so only because we admitted we were powerless over a service system that has been unable, through traditional service models, to address the issue of social isolation among people with developmental disabilities.

Yes, that’s it!  We admitted we had a problem……our problem was that doing 1 thing for 17 years produced no sustainable relationships among people with and without disabilities (51ppl).  We are no longer satisfied with merely keeping people alive, helping people have fun, providing opportunities for people to volunteer “for them” and move on.  That mindset inherently devalues people’s lives- we believe there is more to be done.

Something else also hit me- parents argue that what we’re doing does not address their need for respite.  They are right.  There, I said it.  We are not in that business anymore- we were for 17 years and people are still isolated, lonely and not included in their communities.

Our call to action has changed, our moral compass is pointing us towards radical community building that, over time, will create a future we believe in; where the gifts of those most marginalized will be recognized, nurtured and celebrated by all.

But let me back up…fully stepping into this work…

Through understanding that we have a problem (unknowingly contributing to the social isolation of people with disabilities) we then had to believe that there are people in the community who want to be a part of the lives of people with disabilities.

This was a hard one- if people with disabilities are continually devalued by what society inherently values (beauty, strength, power, wealth, intelligence) then how could others see “them” as anything other than a burden?  Takers? Clients? Only people that I would want to hang out with, not other people…..?  Well, we started by getting over our assumptions about what other people want/need/believe.  We stepped into a belief that there is something bigger out there that we had not yet explored, that the service system had not provided for us.

I understand the definition of insanity to be doing the same thing over and over but expecting a different result.  In this case we made a decision to live our lives in a new way and by aligning ourselves with an inclusive community building initiative as we understand it (3C’s).

In order to follow this path and not get sucked down a road of defeat, pessimism, and negativity we had to make a fearless inventory of our gifts, talents, fears, worries and values.  This exercise helped us to be honest with how we’ve contributed to this problem of social isolation; forgiving ourselves for how we’ve, knowingly and unknowingly, contributed to the problem.    Damn that was hard……we felt bad, hurt, defensive, and stuck at times.  However, after realizing that we’d made it through the worst of it, we were able to move on and stop making excuses.

The only logical next step was to stop assuming that we were a burden on others. We had to let this go.  We were NOT a burden by inviting citizens to come teach classes, meet us for coffee, tell us their story about what is important to them, invite them to join a collaboration project or any other invitation we threw their way.  After all, the worst that could happen was that they would say no.  Luckily for us two things happened:  1) Most people said YES! and 2) for those moments when people said “no” we were supported by others doing this good work who could help us find the silver lining to every situation.  Where were these eternal optimists?  3C’s gatherings, families, Starfire members and staff- if we asked, reached out, or showed up, there was support.

For some reason getting to this point was the hardest journey most of us have ever been on but now the ball was rolling.  We started to make a list of people we knew, those who were closest to us physically and emotionally, those who we knew but had never connected with, and those who we knew knew other people that we might want to know!  We started interviewing people to get to know others by their gifts and interests.  If we believed that people with disabilities had gifts and interests unique to them then that would mean ALL people and ALL communities had something beautiful and unique about them as well!

We continued to show up and be curious; when the learning challenged us we promptly admitted it and looked for support in shifting our thinking.  Damn again!  This required us to be vulnerable!!!!!!  Pain bodies arose, past experiences told us to run, go back to the old way THIS IS ALL TOO HARD!!!!!!!!!  But as our inclusion warrior spirit battled towards what we know to be true-  people with disabilities deserve amazing big lives full of people who share their passions and celebrate their contributions to the world!- we forged on.  We did not follow a path laid out for us by a service model, we did not follow a path shown to us by others doubts and fears- we set out on actively creating our own path and became continuous learners and decided to take charge of our own learning journey. 

What does that even mean?  To take charge of our own learning journey?  Well, we decided to fill our lives with learning opportunities that would challenge our growth and our assumptions.  Every Thursday from 3:00-4pm we are going through a series of eight-week learning sessions to help us be more open to the change we are undergoing.  We are studying asset based community development (ABCD), mindfulness, facilitation and many other topics that help us step out of a ‘disability context’ and into a community building context.  We ask a lot of questions, and wrestle with our answers to make sure we’re continually being guided by what we know to be true:  currently, no one is in the business of helping people expand their social circles, therefore, we have to be fearless leaders.  And finally, if community building looks to INCLUDE all people in the fabric of community life and “disability work” inherently segregates and congregates people who share a devalued label, then we need to seriously reconsider where/who we go to for growth and support.

Having experienced a shift in consciousness as a result of these steps, we became mentors to others through one-on-one coffee dates, large group gatherings of supported, yet challenging conversation topics, and through sharing our learning in written and verbal form.

And this is the real work.  How do we meet people where they are, accept their resistance to change, be patient, kind listeners to real concerns they have that affect their daily lives all while inviting them on a journey they didn’t ask to go on?

Well, I think we (those of us who have gone on this journey) simply do the following:

–          Meet people where they are

–          Accept the resistance to change

–          Be patient, kind listeners to real concerns that affect peoples’ daily lives

–          And continually, and creatively, invite them on a journey that has proven to change peoples’ lives for the better

“Guide on how to be a radical community builder”

• We admitted we were powerless over a service system that has been unable, through traditional service models, to address the issue of social isolation among people with developmental disabilities.

• We believe that there are people in the community who want to be a part of the lives of people with disabilities. 

• We made a decision to live our lives in a new way and by aligning ourselves with an inclusive community building initiative:  Starfire’s 3C’ gatherings.

• We made a fearless inventory of our gifts, talents, fears, worries and values

• We are honest with how we’ve contributed to this problem of social isolation; forgiving ourselves for how we’ve, knowingly and unknowingly, contributed to the problem.    

• We’re entirely ready to move on and stop making excuses

• We’ve stopped assuming that we’re a burden on others

• We made a list of people we know

• We started interviewing people to get to know others by their gifts and interests

• We continued to show up and stay curious.  When the learning challenged us we promptly admitted it and looked for support in shifting our thinking

• We became a continuous learner and decided to take charge of our own learning journey

• Having experienced a shift in consciousness as a result of these steps, we became mentors to others

What do you see in the picture below?  A duck?

Or do you se a rabbit?  Do you see both now, switching back and forth between rabbit ears and duck beak?

What about here?  Is this a young woman, wearing a feathered, flowing veil looking back into the distance?

Or do you see an old woman looking down?  Maybe you see both now.

Optical illusions like those above are all about perception.  Our brain conflicts with what we’re seeing and what we think we see.  This conflict causes us to perceive things often incorrectly.  Like this illusion:
It looks like the red lines in the center are bending, even curved.  But we know that they are not.  The red lines are straight lines.  Our perception doesn’t always match reality.   The illusion deceives us temporarily.  Our visual ability is faster than our ability to think about what we are seeing.  (Light travels faster than our ability to process what we see.  The linked article above explains how this helps us out in everyday life and how optical illusions work.)

Sometimes we can’t see things until someone points them out to us.  You see the duck and the rabbit now, don’t you?  You see the old woman and the young lady.  Your perception and understanding of the pictures has changed, now that you’d have time to process what you see, and it’s been pointed out to you.

I think these illusions relate so well to aid in our understanding of perception and social role valorization.  (For a brief catch-up on social role valorization check out Katie’s beautiful post last year SRV (in grandpa’s words).

SRV, like illusions, work similarly.  It is about perception.  The image of people with disabilities can be seen through a distorted understanding from our own perception.  An optical illusion, if you will.  But once you see it, it’s hard not to.  The SRV lens is hard to turn off sometimes, and it becomes really easy to be critical of other staff, other programs, other people instead of turning an inward lens to personal changes.

I never noticed that I was asking adults in Starfire U to do childish things, and didn’t perceive what I was doing that to be bad, until Janet Klees called out the activities of the “Sunshine Club” in Louisville.  If you read the link from July 2010, you’ll see that we were confronted with a deep challenge in seeing what we were told, and beginning to perceive things differently.  (Not just seeing the rabbit, but also seeing the duck.)   Janet Klees had pointed out things we’d never noticed before, things we’d never thought of, and things we still couldn’t quite yet see.  Much of this SRV learning in Louisville was stuff we didn’t really want to hear.  SRV can be hard, heavy, and it can be easy to turn your nose up at the thought of it, and some of it’s principles.

In hindsight, and the passage of time, and in deep thinking and learning, of course parking lot Olympics with fake laurel crowns was not taking people’s lives seriously, was incredibly devaluing.

Three years later, I can’t not see a lot of what once was invisible to me.  I notice much differently, and undersand how those strong perceptions are harmful to people living a good life.  (I should note that no one is perfect at seeing these devalued images, roles, associations.  Sometimes, we’ll plan something, do something, say something, align with someone or something that will make us scratch our heads later, slap our foreheads, and sigh.  We’re not perfect.  But if you read this reflection you’ll see this isn’t a path to perfection, there are no secret codes to live by, just a stronger understanding that there are some good and meaningful ways we can spend our time with people that builds image positively, social capital, networks, and things that do not, like going out to lunch with 15 people at a Max & Erma’s, and sitting in a private, separate room, or Santa Claus like Tim so bravely wrote about and references often.

So if we know our vision travels faster than our brains ability to process it, what does this mean for the image of people with disabilities, knowing that already, people perceive incorrectly?

It means we have to bend over backwards to make sure the best foot is put forward, as much as possible.  Let’s be clear– this isn’t about pretending disability doesn’t exist.  This is however, about not letting disability be the main topic of conversation.  If you been reading this, following us on Twitter, liking our Facebook statuses, you’ll know that we think about this quite a bit– as in all the time.

There’s a responsibility on our part as well to stop perpetuating myths about people.  To help people see that perceptions are not always correct.  But first, we have to be aware that people that are devalued already have the deck stacked against their favor.  Disability isn’t a valued term in most circles.  Disability is most often seen as different, and that difference is negative.

I know a man who wears a Snow White & the Seven Dwarves t-shirt pretty regularly.  The shirt says “I’m Dopey!”  and features said character on the front.  While I know this person to be skilled in a few different things, most people do not know this about him.  When he wears this particular shirt the illusion is that this 28 year old man, with a disability, is both a child, liking children’s movies and Disney, and dopey.  Dopey isn’t a valued way to be know; It means “stupefied” or “idiotic.”

Perhaps you’ll argue that SRV when it comes to image is just about picking on people or being mean.  Who cares about what people wear?  It’s their choice!, we’ve heard, many times.  But we already know that image and our perception shape how we think about something or someone.  And we’re up against a lot to change the public perception that people with disabilities aren’t violent perpetrators of crime or menaces to society, vegetables or subhuman, forever children, holy innocents, objects of ridicule, charity cases, burdensome, or sickly.  (Google disability and any of those terms and you’ll find enough articles and YouTube videos to keep you busy for months perpetuating those myths.  I’ve linked a few already).

Identify the COLOR of the words above.  Read each COLOR aloud.

You’ll struggle to say GREEN out loud when your brain is reading RED.  It’s hard to say YELLOW when you’re reading BLACK.  The same is true for the image of people with disabilities.  It’s difficult to see a person as an adult, when their dress, activity, or role they take part in, is saying otherwise.

With perception and image, we have to do the same thing.  We have pause and think.  Take a second look and recognize that others will perceive Dopey t-shirts (or pigtails as a grown woman, or overgrown toenails and sandals, or talking about someone in front of them as if they’re not there, or walking 20 feet ahead of the person you’re with, or giving adults plastic kiddie fire hats) as a negative thing.  We hear arguments that SRV is just being oversensitive, that “I could wear pigtails and Disney shirts and sweatpants out in public and no one would care!”  And I could, and probably no one would care.  But I also am married, own my own house, drive my own car, have a full-time job, volunteer in my neighborhood, and have many other valued roles.  I have status to spare, and people might think I’m being ironic, sarcastic, or that I’m just so busy running errands to get dressed, even.

We have to stretch though and recognize the optical illusion that can occur when what we see about a person with a disability, confirms what we already think about disability as a whole.  If you already perceive people with disabilities as forever children, or charity cases, or objects of pity then when you see someone who has a disability in a childish role, it confirms what you already thought.  I can’t tell you how many times there has been a “special sale” on Coca-Cola, coffee, cheese coneys, t-shirts, or “please, just take it…” just because the person ordering had a disability.  It is charity that is being offered, not friendship.

We have to be aware of these illusions that trick people, and help people with disabilities avoid negative associations, and stretch to make perception, interpretation, and association, a positive one.  People with disabilities are the most at risk at not having their lives taken seriously.  We know this.

We have to recognize that most people with disabilities don’t have status to spare, and there is no value in being perceived as worthless.

It is the worst kind of illusion.

Tonight we celebrate the kick-off event to this year’s Collaboration Capstone Projects. Everyone has been working their behinds off to turn an idea, a passion, a poem or play into a spoken word showcase, a dinner accompanied by Shakespeare, a lunchtime dance party…a fellowship. All of the hard work is paying off.

Before I get into the dates and details, I thought I’d pingback at Tim, for his reflection on last year’s Capstone Projects and John O’Brien’s Five Valued Experiences.  Reading again John’s words from his 1989 article “What’s Worth Working For?,” this paragraph stands out when I look at the work we are striving to make happen here at Starfire:

Developing high quality human services for people with severe disabilities demands active engagement in complex, emotionally charged, ambiguous situations. It calls for reallocation of service resources, working outside traditional boundaries, and renegotiation of the service’s position in community life. This essential work calls for the motivation arising from a vision of inclusive community, the boundaries set by a clear and realistic sense of organizational purpose, and the focus offered by well defined service accomplishments. It requires effective leadership from service workers, people with disabilities, and their families and friends if all those concerned are to face the difficult problems of creating high quality services and to make progress toward resolving them.

We’re pretty proud to invite you along for the journey, and attend one of the events below as a step on the way to a more “desirable future,” as John calls it.  Come and see for yourself what we think is worth working for:

Wed. May 15th: renaissance dinner and Shakespeare performance with dinner provided by Chefs Lauren Froh and Theresa Flaherty, and play acted by Cincy Shakes.

“It will be a really unique Wednesday night, with a menu that will not be repeated anywhere else in the city,” said Theresa.

Lauren’s committee meeting to plan their Collaboration Project: dinner and Shakespeare

Thurs. May 16th: showcase of spoken word poetry, “Voices of Cincinnati” at Elementz downtown. Held by Vonceil Brown, Jori Cotton, and the Public Allies of Cincinnati. Along with free entrance to the event, food will be offered free to the public.

“I hope people will be moved by the poetry, maybe make a new friend, be inspired,” said Jori Cotton of Elementz.

Jori Cotton and Vonceil at Elementz Urban Art Center for Open Mic night

Fri-Sat. May 17th-18th: fundraising for Kilgour school in Mount Lookout with a 5k Run and Carnival.  Joe Brumm, Kilgour alum, will be there signing up other fellow alumni to host a reunion.

Joe, Peter, and John Brumm at Happy Hour for Joe’s Kilgour Alumni group

Sun. May 19th:  Joe Wenning and Courtney Kirby will be volunteering at Heritage Village for their Civil War Weekend (come check it out, they’ll be in full costume!) in preparation for his June 22nd reenactment of the lives of settlers in Cincinnati at Pioneer Cemetery (see below).

Buffalo Bill Cody and Anne Oakley

Fri. May 24th – Fellowship through Fashion Potluck – a celebration for everyone Ashley has met this year- people who love hair, fashion, make-up – and general strutting of their stuff!  Like-minded fashion lovers are also invited!

May 31st ReMARCable Movie Group Launches their website – for movie lovers who enjoy discussing the film after at dinner. This is a great way for new people to meet fellow movie goers, the public is encouraged to attend!

Come to the party!

June TBA – Lunch Beat Cincinnati  –  Ditch your desk and water cooler chat! Instead, hit the dance floor and dance off some of that breakfast sandwich you ate on the way to work. Brought to you by Mikel Patterson and his high-energy committee, don’t  miss the beat!

Mikel and Lunch Beat Cincinnati

Wed. June 5th – Brew Review hosted by Michael Makin and his committee of brew-enthusiasts- in collaboration with MadTree Brewery and Fifty West Brewing Company. Tickets are on sale now! $30: http://brewreview.eventbrite.com/ 

One of the growlers made for the special event, to be filled with MadTree brew, and held at 50 West

Sat. June 8th – Matt Cavanaugh and his committee are making plans to add a mediation area and educational signs along the Mt. Airy Trail.

Conservationists gathering at Mt. Airy with Matt

Sun. June 9th – The Princess Ball hosted by Sheila Brewster and her committee. A magical gala for fathers and young daughters to help raise awareness and funds for the Make-A-Wish Foundation. Kids activities will be set up and everyone is encouraged to wear their best princess and prince get-ups! More details to follow!

Sun. June 9th- Storytelling Potluck  A storytelling potluck is a gathering where each person brings a dish that invokes a story, held by Stephanie Lammeier and her committee of Anderson neighbors!

Tue. June 11th – Write me, I’m Yours potluck at WordPlay will feature readings from Cincinnati’s public journal installations hosted by coffee shops around the city. Founded by writers Michelle Dunford and Eva Lewandowski, who hoped the journals would bring writers and artists together.

Write Me, I’m Yours journal installation at Corner BLOC Coffee

Sat. June 15th – Children’s Health and Wellness Festival at Upper Milcrest Park on Mills Avenue in Norwood, a park being restored by Sara Boyd and her committee to help bring more kid-friendly places to go in Norwood.

Sara with Dexter and Chelsea

Sat. June 22nd – Columbia Settlement: 1788 Revisited Joe and his committee will be reenacting the lives of the first settlers of Cincinnati, telling the stories of Lt. Benjamin Stites and others. There will also be demonstrations of different activities that took place in the late 1700’s.

Sat. June 29th – Passport to India – The second in this series, Tiffany Holmes and her committee take you on a trip to India without leaving Cincinnati!

Sat. July 13th – Sayler Park 5k Fun and Run – Melissa Doerflein, partnering with Sayler Park Rec along with her neighbors, friends, and family have created the very first party following the 18th annual 5K race! Join the neighborhood for music by Young Heirlooms, local eateries, games, and more! 

Fri. Aug. 9th- Cincinnati Local Music Showcase at the Northside Tavern – Thomas Herrington and Crystal Summers, in partnership with Cincy Underground and Play It Forward, will be featuring all of the local bands and musicians playing this night on a CD to purchase at the show!

Ongoing projects:

Cincinnati Kindness Movement

Cincinnati Naturalist Society

Eastside Photo Club

Herbal Teas and Products

Soul Ninja Comics

I have a standing ovation for every single person – that’s you families, staff, members, ordinary citizens, each and everyone of you – who have stepped up, turned off the tube, set down your screens, knuckled under and started to WORK.

Bravo!!! Bravoo!!!!!

There are more dates pending, so make sure you add our calendar to your phone, pocket, or bookmarks:  Starfire Community Calendar

Don’t miss next year, you can be a part of this new story.  Find out how, get in touch with us here.

So how did Neighbor Day go?

Most of the to-do list didn’t get done before the week before last’s Neighbor Day celebration.  I did wind up scraping out all of the caulk from the bathtub, though no one besides Katie used the bathroom.  Go figure.

Two Catholic nuns came.  A couple from Katie’s street attended.  My neighbor and her four children came.  Katie & her husband.  Jordan & I.  Katie canvassed her entire street placing flyers in screen doors and under welcome mats and four people showed up.  I half-assed my invitations, waited last minute to tell people, and a family showed up.

And Jordan received this drawing from a six year old next-door admirer.  The brunette is not me (I asked).  The kids ate popcorn, snooped through our stuff, and ran on the deck asking questions and asking for more juice, more popcorn.  The adults stood around, and talked to each other.

drawing from a neighbor kid

Allie at the Central connection gathering last month asked, in response to talking to neighbors, “What’s the worst that can happen?”  We all mused for a bit laughing nervously that really, nothing too bad would happen if we talked to neighbors, made an invitation, stopped and had a conversation.

The worst thing that happened at Neighbor Day’s progressive breakfast for dinner was that people showed up.  Not as many as we expected, but shockingly, more than I expected would actually show when you ask people over for mimosas on a Saturday night after living on the same street as them for almost four years and never asking them over for anything.

The day came and a few odd things happened: one neighbor at 4:00PM said she would be there and asked could she bring anything.  I assured her to literally just walk across the street, no need to bring a thing.  At 6:15, I watched her shut her front door.  She never came over.  Her car parked on the street.

Another neighbor, brought over cups around 5:45PM.  (Jordan feared a shortage and asked to borrow some).  The neighbor said he’d be over for cocktails but couldn’t stay for dinner.  He never showed either.  His car sat in the driveway.

We’ve shared this article (Making Good Neighbors Online & Off) with two of the Connection Gatherings, and I think it’s been pretty helpful in getting people to think about neighbors, community, and just getting to know one another for the sake of knowing one another.

We asked people to talk to their neighbors, interview them, if you will, practice what it’s like to be curious about people you know, people you don’t know, and people you never talk to.

So it’s going.  Sarah and Leah have had some repeat faces and names on the West and North and in the Southeast and North East, as have I in the Central region.  There’s still a bit of stagnation in some regiona, a showing up without your homework done phenomena happening.

So I’m just going to say it.

The world will not end.  Talking to others does not burden their lives.  No one is offended if you ask them to get coffee with you to chat.  We don’t have a secret agenda.  I’m not going to call your neighbors after and ask them for anything.  The worst thing that can happen is people say no.  And if they say no, that’s okay, because you have many, many other people to talk to anyway.

What is it that is so challenging for people?  For the two neighbors who had every intention of crossing the street, walking next door, to then just not?  Certainly we’re not asking everyone to host mimosas and fruit salad and a progressive breakfast.  That of course, came with planning with Katie, a few arguments with my husband about where the dogs would go, who all these people were, and where would people sit.  But we did it.  And it wasn’t horrible.  The worst thing that happened was that it happened.

Read This: The World Will Not End

Sunday morning I checked my email and I received the loveliest thank you from one of the sisters who attended.  She said she was so glad to have been invited, and hopes we’ll do it again soon.  She also offered for us to come take some black-eyed susans that had mounded out of control in her yard.  Jordan had talked to her about wanted to turn a section of our backyard into a wildflower garden.

We wrapped up Saturday night around a bonfire in Katie’s backyard, one block up.  Jordan and Eric talked Alaska and camping, the stories behind the photographs on the walls.  Eric pointed out plans for their kitchen and remodels they needed still to do.  Katie burnt the bacon and sausage and we ate it anyway dipped in syrup.  She apologized and laughed and everyone was gracious.

Another neighbor joined, and Tim has often asked at our gatherings, in our trainings, what if your best friend lived around the corner from you and you never knew it?

Over came Jimmy, a neighbor of Katie and Eric’s.  He had a beard, brewed beer in his garage, and loved to talk music.  A former smoker, he said he still craved cigarettes and told hilarious stories about stuff he did in college.

It all sounded very familiar.  Jordan, bearded, talked to Jimmy, laughing and exchanging stories about things-he-did-in-college and too long after college.  “Two weeks without a cigarette,” Jordan said.  “It never gets easier, man!” Jimmy laughed.

They drank a beer, and the conversation switched to bands.  Had Jimmy heard of Earth?  Ohm?  No?  We’ll he should check it out.  A story about Jimmy’s friend knowing Jim James from My Morning Jacket.  What concerts was Jordan seeing this year?

We left around midnight, needing to pick up our dogs, but I’m sure Eric, Jimmy, and Jordan could have talked all night.  I couldn’t help but think of Tim’s question — what if your best friend(s) lived around the corner from you and you never knew it?  And Allie’s question, what was the worst thing that could happen?

I love these little meme’s lately from Work Is Not A Job.  So, if you’re waiting to do it, to talk to neighbors, to interview someone, to show up with your interviewing homework actually done at the next Connection Gathering, and if something is holding you back…  Okay.  I’ve granted you amnesty from the past times when you’ve shrugged or avoided eye contact with me, Leah, or Sarah.   Or let someone else in your group do all the talking.  We know your tricks.   But, welcome to today.  You can do this.  And you don’t have to have mimosas, or burnt bacon.  You just have to start with a conversation.

Welcome To Today

She probably isn’t great at baking alone.  No, in fact, I know that she’s not.

Once, a few months back, she insisted on making chocolate cupcakes for her collaboration night.  “I don’t need any help” she said, defiantly.  “Are you sure?” I asked, unsure that she didn’t actually need some help, just a little bit.

“It’s fine” she said.

She baked all afternoon, with various heads peeking in the kitchen and checking.

“Doing okay in here?”  “Need any help?” “How’s it going?”

“It’s going fine.”  “No thanks, I don’t need any help.”  “Good!”

She was baking alone.  And she was proud of it.

The timer went off and out came these beauties, chocolatey and ready for consumption:

chocolate cupcakes for the collaboration night

Twenty-four-ish chocolate cupcakes warm in their glory ready to be decorated and served at her collaboration night.  A night where her family members, friends from her neighborhood, citizens who also like baking, people from the Westside, kids, would all help think of ideas around a project.  And her shining contribution, the treat she wanted to share to prove she “could do it alone” had failed miserably.

“Oh, Melissa….”  I paused quietly.  “We can’t serve these.”

There were tears of frustration, and tears of disappointment.  She knew that serving those cupcakes would only prove to her family, her friends, and to others that knew her, that she really couldn’t do the things she thought she could, things she said she could do by herself.

There were lots of tears.

So Bridget, in her infinite wisdom said we could just pick some cupcakes up from Kroger.  If cupcakes were important, damn it, we’d have cupcakes!  And we served those, and no one was the wiser about the disastrous chocolate cupcakes that didn’t survive that afternoon.  We threw away the evidence, and she wiped away the tears.

The conversation that night turned to what could she do with other people in her neighborhood, not how can she get better at doing things alone.  A kid’s night at St. Al’s Church?  Planning activities at the rec center that she volunteered?  What about that annual 5k?  Could she and others plan an after party for the run?

Yes.  She could do that.  She could do that with other people.

They could do that together.

Since then, with other people, she has met with Cincinnati Recreation Commission, and they’ve agreed to add “fun” to the “run.”  They’ve even remarked that this could be done every year.

Village 5K Run & Fun

A band was needed for the after-party, and with other people, they’ve went to a few concerts to check out bands, emailed musicians and ultimately booked the Young Heirlooms.  Currently, she and other people are finding food vendors for the event.  There will be cornhole toss, games, and even a cupcake decorating booth for kids.

All of these things she cannot do alone.

Remember these cupcakes?

chocolate cupcakes for the collaboration night

chocolate cupcakes for the collaboration night

Those were done alone.

See these beauties?

Mary & Melissa

The moral of this story is actually quite simple.  Which cupcake would you prefer?  The one baked alone, burnt and sagging, and tasting bitter? or the one baked with the sweetness of friendship proud on its platter and done together over an afternoon of conversation with a good friend?

baking together

These are from baking with Mary.  And now Mary has become a friend.

That’s the secret though.  We don’t want people to do things alone.  Being alone doesn’t open to the door to meeting people like Mary.  And people like Mary are much more important than baking by yourself.  This isn’t about independence or whether or not she could learn how to do things by herself.  I’m sure Melissa could with LOTS of skill reinforcement, LOTS of practice and repetition.  But this isn’t about that.

This is about relationships, meeting people, and being okay that we’re better together than we are alone.

To Do List:
scrape out pink-mold tinted caulk that won’t come clean & recaulk entire tub
fix chipped tile on bathroom walls
patch holes in concrete in driveway
sand & paint driveway walls
sand paint off basement floor
seal and repaint basement floor
fold & store winter clothes
get patio furniture for deck…

My “fixing” list continues beyond what’s above for our house.  It’s a list that haunts me, that keeps me from wanting to host people over (other than those I know well enough to know they wouldn’t notice, and if they did, wouldn’t care).  It’s a list that makes me apologetic when people do come over.  Oh, that ceiling, I know I need to paint it.  I smudged some of the wall color there back in March.  That stove, it works just fine but we’d love to get a new one that matches the dishwasher, but then we’d need to replace the refrigerator too since none of them match in color.  That stack of mail, and our magazines?  I know we need to file it, find a home for them, but there they sit on the breakfast nook counter.  We could have shinier hardwood floors, we could have nicer artwork on the walls, we could have a bigger, more amazing house, too.  But we don’t.

There are lots of imperfect things about our house.  I know all of them and can point them out to you if you haven’t noticed them already when you come over.

And then there’s this:

Saturday, Katie and I are hosting a Progressive Breakfast for Dinner in celebration of Neighbor Day.  (We live a block apart).  Neighbors, some I don’t know well, some I don’t know at all, will be coming over for mimosas Saturday night.  Imagine the horrified looks on their faces when they see that my bathroom tile isn’t in pristine condition.  What catastrophic reaction will I get when they see that all of my laundry isn’t perfectly organized and in fact some of it sits in –god forbid!– laundry baskets on the dryer?  How will they live with themselves on the same street as us when they see that patches of grass haven’t grown where the dogs run in the backyard?  How will they ever feel safe again when they peek inside my fridge and see that I buy full-fat ranch dressing, not low-fat, that I buy the non-organic kind?  How will they ever trust us again if they open that one drawer that holds (among other things) a package of ping-pong balls, decks of cards, stamps, old keys, receipts, a screwdriver, Halloween makeup, and pruning shears?

Our fear of what others think, the fear of being imperfect really gets in our way.  None of these imperfections are really a detriment to how we live, and none impact the structure or comfort of our house.  It’s a great house.  We love it.  It’s ours.

Imagine that “fix it” list is for a person though, before people can come over, before people can be welcomed in, before you can go out, before you can meet people.  Imagine it’s a list of things that you perceive to be wrong about a person.  You imagine what people will think if they open that drawer, filled with things you’re desperately trying to hide, or want to fix about them.

To Do List:
fix hugging problem
work on independent cooking skills
fix tone of voice when talking
keep from pacing
no repeating sentences
stop from asking people you don’t know questions
fix autism/seizures/stuttering/slowness (fill in the blank)

Kathy wrote this beautiful piece about Joe’s “hugging problem.”  And she writes that maybe the problem wasn’t Joe, but the way she perceived it as a problem.  And maybe too much time was spent focusing on something that wasn’t that big of a deal, and not enough time on how that hugging was often a gift to people, and a way that Joe reached out for relationships and connectedness.

I can definitely put away my papers and magazines before Saturday to make a good impression, just as someone shouldn’t wear sweatpants to out to dinner or a meeting.  We should always put our best foot forward, especially people who don’t have status to spare.  But those are small easy polishes that can enhance our image, and are good to do.

But, it’s silly to think that we can “fix” everything we perceive to be wrong about a person.  At some point, maybe it’s okay that someone didn’t master how to tie a shoe.  Perhaps a “fix” would be to just buy some cool slide on shoes, like ballet flats, or Toms that all the cool kids are sporting these days.

I’ve written about imperfection before, two years ago in this sewing story.  Sure, there are some mends that need to be done.  I’m not advocating that people shouldn’t grow, or change, or work on things that would a good and worthwhile use of time.  Fixing things in my house is definitely something I need to do eventually, but some things don’t need fixing like the mismatch appliances, or the improved artwork to better impress people.  Those things are fine, I just perceive them to not be good enough.  And if I keep adding to the list of things I need to do before anyone can step foot in our house, no one ever will.

The same is true for people.

If we keep adding to the list of things someone needs to learn/do/master before relationships can be had, before people can share in ordinary and typical experiences, a “behavior that needs to be modified” before, a “skill that need to be reinforced” before, we’ll never make the leap that sometimes people are just good enough as imperfect as they are.

And if any of mine or Katie’s neighbors point out the imperfect things in my house or hers, I’ll let you know.  But I’d guess they’ll just be grateful that we’re feeding them and inviting them over, and happy to be included.  Because that, is good enough.

The high-pitched, windy sound of blow dryers fill Starfire’s kitchen. People on ladders blow hot air onto the decals that spell out the tagline: “To enrich the lives of teens and adults with developmental disabilities through unlimited opportunities that build independence and community inclusion.”

Letter by letter, the words peel off. Nails scraping against the yellow paint to bring them down.

Others passing by stop to see what the noise and commotion are all about.

“They’re taking down the words,” one would say.

“What’s going up there instead?” another would ask.

Paint chips left a dust like residue on the counter below.

We are constantly in flux at Starfire, in the details of our design, structure, and mindset. That’s not to say we are flitting about, some demolition here, a little construction there, voila, our work is done for today! Not sure of what tomorrow brings! Quite the opposite.

Commitment to truth simply takes time, and looks as non-linear as the bouncy flight of a butterfly, though year after year the butterfly still returns to the same tree during migration. We build with open minds. And open minds, just because they are open, do not mean they lack a set of values or ethics. They are “open” in the way of being hospitable. “Come in, have a seat, drink from my cup, I’ll ask how your day was.” I’ll listen with intent. Flexible structures still rest on a foundation, only they bend with the wind like the tall branches of an oak. Whatever time, whichever place, and whomever it serves, as unique as we all are, flexible structures don’t break easily.

So flux, as it grooves and grinds its way into our daily flow at Starfire, is actually a necessity to what we are about. It creatively binds us, and resourcefully commits us to our one constant, unwavering, paramount goal of inclusion. I think Tim calls it “one big tweak.”

The kitchen at Starfire is a central place. You are almost guaranteed to pass by it on your first visit. More important than reading that tag line are the people, the food, and the conversations around the kitchen island. Those are the things that set the table for each new visitor. Not disability, not non-profit-y jargon, not a slogan, but something real, genuine, that draws people to gather around.

So we took down the most contrived part of the kitchen, the least likely language to be heard spoken by any one of us. I sit and look now at the border around the kitchen, repainted yellow, a residue of what was looks back and me and grins. It served its purpose, and with honor and pride it has given up its place to make room for what is important now. It has created a path of calm waters, making what is now in front of us clearer and more genuine – and giving hope for what is to be across that great expanse, that blue horizon- a new world awaiting.

I’ve become a bit obsessed with infographics lately, and have found myself subscribing to different news feeds.  This one, about neighbors, came in my inbox today.  It reminds me of a couple of stories that I’ve been meaning to tell.  At the Connection Gatherings Leah, Sarah, and I have been asking and inviting people to talk to their neighbors.  This is a story about some of my neighbors, and what talking to them can lead to.

It was Friday.  I had spent my day off cleaning, organizing, getting the house in better shape than it had been lately.  Detail work like organizing basement shelves, dusting the washing machine, going through old files, getting rid of stuff I haven’t used or seen in years.  You know, the stuff no one else will ever notice, but you.

Earlier in the week I’d made plans with Jordan’s cousin, Laura, and her fiance to come over.  I texted Collin (another cousin of Jordan’s) to come over too with his wife, our friend, Amy.  The game plan was cards or a few board games, a bottle of wine, some beer and the possibility of a bonfire.  A low key evening where no money needed to be spent and we didn’t have to actually go anywhere.  We started in the dining room, with curtains drawn and the window cracked to allow a breeze in.  I saw Dave sitting on his porch, drinking a beer alone.

Dave moved in two weeks ago, into the house next door.  It was previously owned by a very sweet old lady whom Jordan and I would chat with from our porches from time to time.  She passed away last summer and her house had since been empty.  It sold a few weeks ago.  Dave, Jordan, and I chatted politely over the back fence last weekend while the dogs went wild barking at each other.  We exchanged pleasantries like “let us know when you mow the lawn and we’ll let the dogs in.  They’re afraid of lawn mowers” and Jordan and I shared the wisdom given to us when we first moved in: “don’t worry about the guy that jogs back and forth on the street in the middle of the night with a flashlight.  He’s harmless.”

But Friday night, the six of us chatted around the fire on Friday, wine glasses and beer bottles in hand, avoiding the smoke billowing from logs and old financial papers, and I thought of Dave.  New neighbor.  Sitting on his porch.  I asked Jordan if we should invite him over, and the consensus was “why not?”

As I walked up to his porch, I got nervous.  Would he think I was a really strange neighbor?  Did he want to just be left alone?  Was it weird to ring someone’s door bell next door if you really didn’t know them?  How late was too late?  Was I being obtrusive?  Will he know I saw him on his porch?  Will it look like I was spying on him from my dining room?  Should I have left my wine glass at home before walking over?  Should I have put on shoes?  His name was Dave, wasn’t it?

I rang the door bell and immediately regretted it.  Nala, his golden lab, went berserk.  Barking, pacing by the door, looking out the curtains, barking louder each passing second that I stood on the porch.

Shit! I’ve upset the dog, I thought.  Run  away!  He took way too long to answer the door and I debating whether ringing again was overkill or if proper etiquette was to knock the second time instead of ringing again?  He was home.  Why wasn’t he answering?  Was he avoiding us?  I considered bolting before he answered but before I could take off, he opened his door.

“Hey,” I said, even more aware of how crazy I looked barefoot, holding a glass of wine on his porch, the sun already set, the moon already out. “We’re having a bonfire and wanted to see if you wanted to join.”  He paused, smiled a little, and said “Oh man, I can’t.  I’m about to go to a birthday party for a friend.”

“No big deal.  Some other time then.” And I walked back to my yard.

Later that night, after our cousins had already gone home, we let the dogs out one last time before heading to bed.  Immediately, the raucous of barking and chasing between the fences could be heard.  I saw Jordan and Dave standing over the fence line chatting.  I walked out and said hey.  Dave said, “Thanks so much for inviting me, I would’ve if I didn’t have to go to that party.  Actually the bonfire probably would have been more fun.”

“No big deal.” I said.  But it was a big deal.  13% of neighbors never talk to one another.  23% only talk a few times a month (I imagine the nights before trash collection).  9% talk once a month.  and 10% less than one time a month.

When we first moved in in 2009 we of course knew no one.  We learned a few names giving away a surplus of tomatoes that we had grown when we couldn’t bear to eat anymore.  Through that, we met Cindy, met Amy.  Cindy was the one who shared the good advice about the late-night flashlight toting jogger.  We met another neighbor, Trish, that summer borrowing yard work tools, and we invited her over to Jordan’s graduation party after-party.  Trish met Jordan’s cousin Drew that night.  They talked all night, started dating, and they got married last June.  They had their first son, Dylan, a few weeks ago.

Last year, our neighbor Buck told us that his sons were carpenters, worked in construction and if we ever needed some work (any kind of work) done to let them know.  It turned out we did need some work done.  We tore out a ton of bushes along our fence and needed someone to haul it away.  The sons did.  A few months later, instead of going with a $10,000+ bid from a random company for a new deck, Buck’s sons built it over a weekend for much (much much) less than $10,000.  We had one of the sons (they all start with the letter D and all look pretty handsomely identical) over for chili in the Fall to celebrate.

Last year, our neighbor Charlie, Amy’s boyfriend, yelled across the street, beckoning us over.  “I want you guys to meet my dad!” he yelled.  Jordan and I exchanged funny looks.  Meet his dad?  What for?

We walked across the street onto Amy and Charlie’s porch and met Mr. Harmon.  Chuck Harmon, Charlie’s dad.  The Chuck Harmon who was the first African-American baseball player for the Cincinnati Red’s in 1954.  A living piece of Cincinnati and baseball history, sitting on a porch across the street.

Bikes get left on our grass.  And so do wrappers for fruit snacks.  We return the bikes to the yards, and just throw away the wrappers.  We know the names of most kids on our street, and can point which directly they went when Sara next door starts yelling for her four kids.  We smile, we nod, we wave, but we also talk.  “Being neighborly isn’t just giving a smile and nod to your neighbors when you see them on the street. It’s a way of life—a way to build a real social network that can connect you to hyper-local current events, political action, and groups you can join to make your community a better place to live and work.”

You don’t have to talk to your neighbors.  It can definitely be strange, weird, off-putting.  (Like the time I recently went to welcome another new neighbor who was moving in that day and instead got this response: “Will you move your car either up or back on the street?  It’s taking up two spaces.”  My car was parked in my driveway, I told her, but I welcomed her nonetheless, apologetic I couldn’t be more helpful with the car situation.) But talking to neighbors can also be worthwhile and meaningful in small ways, like getting our dogs used to each other so they won’t bark through the fence so much, finding out that a few doors down Buck’s sons know how to build a deck and it won’t cost $10,000+ thankyouverymuch.

Or, talking to your neighbors can be worthwhile and meaningful in some pretty big ways, like Drew and Trish finding each other, and a baby being born some years later because of the intentional serendipity of a small invitation to a neighbors a backyard party.

So you don’t have to talk to neighbors.  You can go home, shut your door and avoid eye contact, if you like.  But I’m sure Drew and Trish are pretty happy that we did do just that.  I’m sure little Dylan is pretty happy too, or will be once he learns to sleep through the night.  I’m happy we have a brand new deck that didn’t leave us broke.  I’m happy that we met Chuck Harmon and Charlie got to share how proud of his dad he is.  I’m happy that Moses & Paige (our dogs) will get to know Nala and stop seeing her as a threat and stop barking.  And I’m pretty sure Sara is happy that other people are looking after her kids, too.  As for the lady who wanted me to move a car that didn’t belong to me?  I’m sure she’s happy that she’s done moving and that she doesn’t have to figure out how to maneuver a UHaul past parked cars anymore.  Moving is so annoying, isn’t it?

How long have you lived on your street?  How often do you talk to your neighbors?  Who is the best neighbor you’ve ever had?  What does it mean to be neighborly?  Do your neighbors help each other out?  When was the last time you sat on a neighbors porch?  Have you ever been in a neighbors living room?  Do you know the names of the people on your street?  What stops you from talking to them?

What would help you get to know the people who live around you?  What is one small step you can take this week?

It was a long drive out to the farm. Arriving there just as the sun was beginning to set, I parked in the gravel lot when you first pull in and looked around for some indication of people, a flicker of light from a bonfire or the sound of people mingling. Making my way up a small slope, I noticed a group sipping out of mugs what I realized must be the sassafras tea that was planned for the evening. It felt wonderful to be somewhere remote on such a chilly, clear night.

Approaching the group, everyone seemed to be intent on the friction fire demonstration going on, led by Jonathan. Joe and he were crouched down, side-by-side, using a bow drill made out of yucca stalks and string. (Join the Cincinnati Naturalist Society on their next adventure – learn more here: http://cincinnatinaturalistsociety.wordpress.com/)

I was there to capture the night using video, so I found different angles that worked with the light and zoomed in on hands working together, recording the smoke as it came from the bow drill: the start of a fire.

The smell of chili soon began to waft our direction, and soon people were spooning up heaps of Joe’s momma’s homemade chili. As the sun went down and dinner settled in stomachs, stars overhead peaked down at us. The group gathered around the fire and crackles from it enticed stories and laughter.

Then Joe arrived beside me, and I realized he was nearly crying. He asked if he could tell me something. Being with my camera, I went to turn it on and point it his direction, but he laughed shyly and said, “Off camera.”

I winced and put it away, wishing I hadn’t made him uncomfortable.

He told me, “When I first came to StarfireU as a freshman, I never thought something like this would happen.” His eyes welled up as he looked around, “I am just overwhelmed by it. It’s outrageous! Having everyone together, being here with people, I love it. This is the best thing that has happened to me.”

There isn’t much else I could say except hug him, and thank him for what he’d said.

How could it be that Joe, a young man in his 20s, would say a typical night out with friends could be the best thing that ever happened to him? All Joe’s life, he has been left out of the small, ordinary things, like hanging out around a bonfire and eating chili and shootin’ the shit with friends.

Joe has a disability, and that comes with a basic set of societal burdens such as stereotypes and stigmas, or separate programs and services, that give outsiders the impression that he is not a friend, or a neighbor, or a citizen, but a “client.”

We are all likely to have thought this way at some point in our lives. I know I have. But the fantastic ending is that it’s never impossible to shift your mindset, or be more aware of how you can stop looking for permission, and start seeing your BFFs as anyone, people with and without disabilities.

It may take a small tweak in your daily routine to start thinking this way, but practice and it will come to you naturally. Your first task can be this: if you’re having a bonfire in your backyard this month, or hitting some trails, or planting your vegetable garden, or baking a cake for your sister, or doing anything you’re passionate about and might enjoy doing it with others…. who could you invite that would love to be there???

Then, bring your invitation to one of our gatherings happening this month:

Connections gatherings:

Apr 8 from 6:30pm – 8pm at Higher Ground Coffee House

Apr 17 from 6:30pm – 8pm at Bread Basket & Pastry Co.

Apr 18 from 6:30pm – 8:30pm at European Cafe

Apr 25, from 6:30pm – 8pm at Oakley Library

May 7, from 7pm – 8:30pm at Cherry Grove United Methodist

Conversation Gatherings

Apr 11, from 6:30pm – 8:30pm at Higher Ground Coffee House 

Apr 23, from 6:30pm – 8:30pm at Starfire

more info here: http://starfirecouncil.org/stories_and_events/upcoming_events

Events like these are made possible in part due to a grant from the Charles H. Dater Foundation.

This post is a place for discussion from the showing of Wretches & Jabberers on Thursday, March 14th, 2013 at the Esquire Theater.  Please post your comments and thoughts below.  We’d love to hear your thoughts.

What does Wretches & Jabberers teach us about assuming someone’s intelligence?

written by Tom Kohler, Chatham Savannah Citizen Advocacy

The phrase “that’s cool” stands the test of time. People have been saying it for decades. You hear it in the Sentient Bean, you see it on Facebook…You read it in Bis, the weekly business journal, coming from the lips of a Harold Yellin, partner at the Hunter Maclean law firm … “That’s cool!”

And Savannah is a cool place…

Savannah is a cool place and a lot of cool things are happening. This month we have the Tara Feis, StopOver Music Fest, St. Patrick’s Day and the Savannah Music Festival. We just had the Book Festival. It’s all cool.

And Savannah is full of cool people…

People who do cool things like design web sites, and run coffee shops, and create and cook great food, and build things and create and connect people and ideas and profess things at SCAD and AASU and SSU, and on and on and on…

But is it cool that…
Some folks are never out and about and seen at the cool things that go on in Savannah?
Or that some folks are out of sight, and out of our minds as fellow citizens?
Or that some folks are seen as clients of the human service systems and not as fellow citizens?
Or that some people are controlled by people and human service systems that seem to be more interested in profit than in being responsive, progressive and compassionate?

Want Savannah to be a cooler place?
Savannah will be a cooler place when more and more people who would not ordinarily know one another get connected and start caring about one another.

Savannah will be a cooler place when rejection and segregation are challenged and changed by people who care about Savannah.

Savannah will be a cooler place when people are willing to speak up and say “That’s NOT cool” when they see someone forced to live behind the wall of difference.
Savannah will be a cooler place when people come toward one another rather than run from “the other.”

Citizen advocates can help Savannah become a cooler place. Less segregation, less separation, less desperation. More welcome, more solidarity, more friendship, more spokesmanship, more caring about what happens to someone else. More showing up, more standing up and saying “This is not good enough any more, we have to do different and better.”

Citizen advocates can help Savannah become a cooler place! Start small, go somewhere cool together. Look cool together. Expect the cool people of Savannah to be cool with seeing the world be a little more welcoming and available to everyone.

______________________________________________________________

Thank you, Tom, for this reflection and invitation. It can apply to just about any city. Findlay Market, Vine Street and OTR, Oakley square and Eden Park and the Purple People Bridge. Skyline chili, Newport on the Levee, Playhouse in the Park. Arts. Culture. Bengals. (Okay, well at least the Reds anyway). Such cool places in our 52  cool Neighborhoods. Over 2 million cool people.

Or somehow, is it true that with all these cool things to do, all these cool places to be, that we forget or become too cool for friendship, for spending time with our neighbors, for getting to know other’s stories? For hanging out with people who aren’t as “cool” as People magazine or a fancy title and a nice car might suggest?

Here’s something Cool you can do in the next few weeks, show up to one of the Connections gatherings:

Wednesday, March 20  6:30-8p  Bread Basket & Pastry Co.  3218 W. Galbraith Rd.

Thursday, March 21   6:30-8p  European Cafe, 9450 Montgomery Rd.

Thursday, March 28  6:30-8p Oakley Library, 4033 Gilmore Ave.

Tuesday, April 2 7-8:30p Cherry Grove UMC, 1428 Eight Mile Rd.

Monday, April 8   6:00-8p   Higher Ground Coffee House, 3721 Harrison Ave

“She doesn’t understand why loving something purely will not save it. I have never understood this either.” –Katie Krautkramer, via CowBird Story “Literal”
4314

This house has been in the Meyer family since 1938.  It has seen better days, for sure.  I’ll spare the details of how we got to this point.  I’ve hinted in other blog posts about things getting mixed up in families, things fought for, and fought about like jewelry and houses.  I know through my work at Starfire that “things people fight about” sometimes includes people, who can’t be heard over the shouting, can’t be seen over the long emails back and forth, or aren’t listened to during uncomfortable meetings about them.  This isn’t that kind of story though.  This is just a story that needs to be told.

three tins of buttons exist, collected over decades and decades from coats, dresses, skirts, and shirts of relatives.

I suppose that this is always bound to happen eventually.  The loss of something important.  The moving on.  It doesn’t matter how much you love someone or something, love doesn’t stop dying, leaving, or losing.

window on the landing.

This house is leaving my family.  The finality of it like a nail in a coffin.  I took pictures on Monday to memorialize it.  Pictures of the details everyone knows so well, and things found that others forgot or left behind.  Those diamond shaped windows above didn’t keep the cold out.  I would cloud the glass with my breath and draw on them, smudging shapes and words onto the glass.

basement + ladder

To those of us who grew up here, it feels as though the final family member of a gone generation has died–the last of that Meyer generation died in 2006.  But, in a way, this is death, too.  The confusion, denial, and anger surrounding all of it.  The questioning that something could have been done.  Why didn’t anyone do anything to save it?  What were the other options?  To be honest, I tried, not in the chest pounding CPR type of way, paddles trying desperately to resuscitate a heart, but damn near close.  In 2008 I offered to buy it.  I just needed a year or so to get some things together, say like financing, a down-payment, a little nest egg for the many, many repairs it would need upon move-in.  I’d convinced my not-yet-husband that my family homestead trumped any dreams we had for our own home.  We had to keep this house.  It didn’t have as big of a yard as we’d like, or as many bedrooms as we wanted, and it was in need new electric; many walls would need to be gutted and new drywall installed, and very likely some foundation work in the basement sooner than later, and it didn’t have any of the updates potential home owners look for like central air, but damn it, it was my house.  Our family’s house since the 1930s.  It was important.  We could do it.  Our children could be the 5th generation to live there.

inside the back bedroom.

Plans changed and another family member moved in then– and now out– and some years later we find ourselves in this situation.  It was not to be, I guess.  There are no more interventions that can be tried at this point.  No clinical trials for one last chance of survival.  No miracle drugs.  No donors and transplants in queue, waiting to be a match.  We’re saying goodbye, packing up the belongings that belonged to those who have long been dead and claiming them as our own.  We are turning off the lights.  It will not be “mine” anymore, though I haven’t lived there in some time.  And it won’t be “ours” once the ink is dry and the locks have been changed.

Stained glass window going upstairs

I already know someone will paint the green outside a very different color.  I can’t blame them, it’ll be their house.  But I will never forgive them for betraying the color that I know the house to be.  They won’t even know that I will drive past looking, curious, furious, and in mourning.  They won’t know where so many of us road our bikes down ‘the big hill’ a few doors down, the places in the cracked pavement where we skinned our knees, where trees and bushes used to be in the neighbors yards.  They won’t know who used to live where.  They won’t know where the dogs are buried in the backyard.

mirror from my grandmother’s dresser, sitting in an abandoned closet

This house has seen days spanning through out WWII, and 4 of the 5 original Meyers were born during those war years.  It has seen young ones dress up for First Communions, proms and graduations, and I have seen the pictures of the styles of dresses and the styles of the curtains on the windows changing over the decades.  I’m sure my family members watched the civil rights movement on a TV in that front room, saw the coverage of JFK assassination, MLKs assassination, RFKs assassination, Korea, Vietnam, the Gulf War, 9/11.  I remember watching coverage of the Columbine HS shooting on the floor of the living, a few months before I started high school.

my great-grandfather’s rusty tools.

My grandmother’s father ran a lawn mower repair company in the garage in the back of the house.  We still have the embossed pens and ledger from the business.  This was before he got sick and had his legs amputated, before he died in 1979.  This was also before my grandmother got sick and had her legs amputated, before she died in 2004.  It’s a sad family tradition, diabetes.  There used to be a crab apple tree in the backyard by the garage that I’d climb and bite into the sour fruit, spitting out each chunk after sucking the bitter juice.  It’s limbs were cut down too.

The house has sustained itself through a fair share of natural disasters, the tornado of ’99 that hit Harper’s Point and Montgomery, the flood of ’97 that flooded my soccer fields on Kellogg Avenue.  Weeks later we drove past and saw the dead fish at the goalie line, scattered midfield, and into the parking lot.  Many of my childhood memories include sitting on a chair or a cooler in the damp basement waiting for tornadoes to pass by.  Maybe there were more tornadoes back then, or maybe my family has always overreacted with weather.  I know I was always told to have shoes and socks on during a storm, just in case and I always did.  I still do.  I remember my grandmother rushing out to get the ferns off the porch and the clothes off the line before a hard rain.  I don’t know if we just didn’t have a dryer then (this very well may have been the case) or if she preferred to dry clothes this way, but I loved running through the cool wet sheets in the summer, the smell of bleach and wind on hot sweaty kid face.

faucets from the original bathtub

So many babies were brought home here including my grandmother, and including me. (Many) deaths happened, and ghosts still haunt the halls.  I have seen these ghosts throw pictures from walls, felt them chasing me down the stairs.  For the longest time I couldn’t stand to walk down the stairs, I had to run.  Children couldn’t go to the bathroom alone.  We’d all sit on the steps outside the door waiting our turn, giving puppet shows to those doing their business.  Other relatives has seen, or heard, or felt ghosts, too.  An eerie presence, a man in a top hat at the backdoor in the kitchen, a sound attached to no one.  My grandma slept with a rosary and a knife under her pillow.  A perfect mix of superstition, prayer, and practicality.

bathroom door lock

I don’t know why I’m telling you all of this except to say that these things happened.  This place existed and it was important.  So much of our work is about sharing common, ordinary places.  In a way this wasn’t a common, ordinary house.  Families don’t often stay rooted in one neighborhood, let alone one house.  People don’t live in the same house their great-grandmother, grandmother, and mother did.  But I did, and I hoped my children would have been able to say the same.  It taught me something about being rooted to a place, and staying.  There’s a marked difference between being rooted and being stuck.  I’ve always felt grounded.

steps going to the basement.

There was coal furnace in the basement used until the 1990s, the same winter I developed asthma (no coincidence, I’m sure).  You could look between the basement steps and see it’s iron mouth glowing red and orange, and barely heating the house, and the coal room off to the right, thick with black smudged walls.  The front porch had a swing, where my grandmother and any visitor, child or adult could sit and talk, swaying more than swinging with a fly swatter in hand on summer days.  Lightning bugs drunkenly stumbled across the lawns, their lights giving way to our small hands and dying inside our pickle jars once we’d forgotten them.

found porcelain doll

Front yards were everyone’s, connected in a vast expanse of grass, rosebushes, sidewalks.  Neighborhood kids ran wild in the street yelling “car!” to keep each other safe and interrupted softball games, rounds of ghost in the graveyard.  There were unfortunate injuries due to pogo sticks and rollerblades and snow balls packed with ice.  There was, and still is, a clubhouse under the porch where the names of bygone children are drawn in the rafters in chalk and pens and markers.  We’d hide out, being spies, watching the mailman’s and passing neighbors’ every move.  We learned to ride our bikes by crashing into a neighbor’s pristine hedges, ripped its leaves off for confetti celebrating fake New Years Eves.  We tunneled through them and under them as infantrymen, fell into them during crash landings without training wheels.  They never had a chance, and were dug up some years later.  We never apologized for ruining their hedges.  I guess they saw it coming, and it was a fair price to pay for the safety of neighborhood children.  We hopped back fences for “shortcuts” to the house next door until the moms and grandmas one by one started calling our names home.  Home.

door knob

I guess this post doesn’t fix anything or make it feel any better.  Thanksgivings, and Christmases and Easter egg hunts in the backyard, or on Halloween when Grandma would dress up as a witch, buy dry ice to fill a plastic cauldron, and decorate the house with witty and inappropriate tombstones and horrifying displays of bloody mannequins, bats, spider webs, strobe lights, fog machines and wooden coffins.

Happy Thanksgiving Grandma, Jenny

You don’t realize how much place matters until that place is not your own anymore.  Until you’re no longer welcome there, or allowed to be there, or allowed to call it home.  And this is just one of those stories.

4314

a rotary phone for 396-6137 (my apologies to whomever actually has this number now)

dining room pocket doors

banister going upstairs

I’m not opposed to success. I just think we should accept it only if it is a byproduct of our fidelity. If our primary concern is results, we will choose to work only with those who give us good ones. -Fr. Greg Boyle

Stories are what most represent our fidelity to people. Without the stories, like the onesTim shared in this post, there is no truth to the numbers. Our work is not a success, without sincere, binding devotion to each person’s uniqueness. The percentages are not compelling, unless the probability of relationships growing in every person’s life are greater.

Below is a fancy infograph of our last 6 months of outcomes as an organization.

Try to imagine the numbers in a new way. Imagine that these numbers can breathe. Imagine they have a smile, a shoulder to lean on, a twinkle in their eye enticing you. Imagine they are as familiar to read as your best friend, as honest as your grandmother, as unique as the snowflake. Sit down with them, heat up a pot of tea, and wait for the numbers to speak to you. Then, listen. Listen as 92 times an infinite number of stories unfold. Stop counting, and see the relationships, the respect, the contributions binding communities together.

All dressed up in their Sunday’s best, they sure do look sharp – especially since they live in an amalgamation of Excel spreadsheets and the too many manila folders on my desk, but remember the true beauty lies behind our fidelity to the stories those graphs and pie charts hold.

Take a look:

by Annette J. Wick, from Women Writing For a Change (WWFC).  Read during one of WWFC’s readaround

…

“Never, never rest contented with any circle of ideas, but always be certain that a wider one is still possible.” – Pearl Bailley

I sit with these words, alongside the joy of facilitating this circle of writers has brought. I reflect on those words, and say, yes, a wider one is possible.

Many months ago, I was asked to take over our (WWFC) relationship with Starfire, and facilitate writing circles for those young women (and sometimes men) who wanted to pursue the art of writing, and make it more integral to their lives.

Innocently, I told our director, “I’m not used to working with that demographic.” That was the term I naively called some in the audience today. “That demographic.” I had worked with cancer patients, grieving widows and those afflicted with Alzheimer’s. In my own circles, I had sat beside alcoholics and anorexics. And still, I said those words.

I took on that role, at first limiting our group to only Starfire students. We had a healthy circle, with many writing prompts, but still the circle felt empty. Words fell flat, they were not reaching their intended audience. Not because of those who arrived each week, their contribution was solid, but because I was missing a piece to complete this puzzle called a circle.

After that first session, I agreed to open the class to other partners within Women Writing for a Change and the greater writing community. We had two writers sign up. One , a young woman, home-schooled with grandparents in France, and another woman who worked in radio and publicity, immediately connected with our Starfire group. One winter day, I ran into circle members on the streets of OTR, at the Streetcar groundbreaking, and inside Findlay Market. Ironically, it was at that time, my husband and I signed a contract to purchase a home in OTR. Suddenly, we were traveling similar paths.

From there the class transitioned to another group of partners, one of which included my mother-in-law. She had never looked at herself as a writer. But as she attended each session, alongside Starfire members, she began to see herself in a new light, light that was emanating from the courage put forth by the Starfire members, who routinely put down on paper and shared aloud their family woes, lover’s quarrels, dreams of working in film, and desires to be accepted.

This most recent session, we cast an even wider net. Part of Starfire’s mission is to connect with people and places where everyone’s gifts are recognized and valued. More of this mission was being heralded via our partner, Courtney Calhoun, whose wondrous work connected each Starfire member, in some small way, to others in our circle.

To date, coffee has been shared, movies taken in, words have been written together, words have been spoken aloud at open mics. A connection in gardening is still in the works, as is working with children’s authors, and attending senior capstone projects. We have, in a sense, created our own community through hospitality and inclusion, cornerstone practices of both Starfire and Women Writing.

On Monday, I visited Starfire late afternoon, as members were preparing for their return to home. I was greeted with hugs, Tiffany and I discussed our shared discovery that the Great Gatsby film starred her favorite Bollywood actor. I ran into Vonceil, a student from a past circle, and she excitedly talked about her capstone involving Spoken Word poetry. That day, I happen to notice that a local coffeeshop was showing a film, based on a high school spoken word contest – The Loudest Bomb. I jotted down the information for Vonciel, and promised to see her perform soon. Lauren peeked her head out a meeting, to just say, “Hi.” Margot greeted me with a hug, and noted my sling from surgery was gone. And of course, Michelle waited patiently, as I greeted many of her peers, before we set out on our own quest for the West Side. She put up with plenty of my cussing that night….

I revisit my words, “that demographic,” one more time and realize I too am differently-abled, perhaps smaller minded that my partners at Starfire. For they take on each attempt at connection, each writing prompt with zeal and truthfulness. They find the connection, they include me. It is NOT the other way around.

I have learned much in our time together. The question of being intentionally inclusive rises up in me each time I am also with the Alzheimer’s population. I practice it within my writing circles with them. I practice it with my own mother and her companions at her care center. But the rewards don’t come first, understanding does.

In a recent writing session at the Alois Alzheimer Center, I was using a Christmas theme. Stockings lay on the tables, a few Santa figures loomed at each end. Christmas carols were sung, memories were written down. In the tradition of Women Writing for a Change soul cards, I close even that circle, where they can’t recall the words just written, and ask, “How did you feel being in the circle here today?” Some answer, “It was really nice.” Some repeat the theme shared in their writing. But Doris, one of our newer members, said it best, “It was good to be together today.”

In light of recent tragedies and stressful circumstances in each of our lives, it is possible to come together in comfort and joy, and connection and courage. But it is NOT possible to do so without the intentional creation of circles that support our work, our lives.

The quote at the top of page is incomplete. “Never rest contented…be certain there is a wider circle.…” I would also add, a wiser one.

A Cheat Sheet

Posted on February 26, 2013 by Candice Jones Peelman

I thought it might be helpful to break down a few terms and words that get used a lot in our learning, our conversation and connection gatherings, and other places.   They sometimes seem hokey, or overused, or code words for something else.

But if you lean in real close, I’m going to whisper you a secret.

All these words, they’re pretty average, nothing too kooky, I promise.  Trust me, I don’t do hokey.

And these words don’t mean anything sneaky, or tricky, or strange and they don’t lead to burning incense or kumbaya sing-a-longs, unless you want them to.  (I’ve only twice attended something where incense was used… and both times were with Canadians in CANADA for Pete’s sake!)

And if you don’t get tied up in the sometimes “weirdness” of these words, and if you give up the fact that no one really cares if you’re cool or not, you’ll get a lot out of showing up and letting go of the “cheese” factor sometimes associated with them.

So let’s review some vocabulary, shall we?

Words

5VE or the Five Valued Experiences — Dr. John O’Brien’s work outlining a good life (see “good life” definition) the 5VE or Five Valued Experiences include: experiencing respect, making contributions, making choices, sharing ordinary places, and growing in relationships
“Starfire bases its work on the Five Valued Experiences.”

authentic  — don’t fake it.  Be honest.  Say what you know.
“When you answer, be authentic with your response.”

circle  — people who support you in your life; may include family members, friends, paid staff, and people you know you in various roles.  Circles may also advocate on behalf of the person’s best interest in times of difficulty.  Circles can be built intentionally [see intentional definition], and they can occur naturally.
“Andrew and his circle are going out to dinner this Thursday to celebrate his 25th birthday.”

community — 1. literally, a group of people; A group of people who care about a greater good of inclusion, where people are recognized by their gifts and talents as opposed to labels;  2. the city of Cincinnati, or your specific neighborhood.
1. “We want the collaboration projects to bring together a community around Kasey and work on the kindness project together.”
2. “We want to host the Brew Review close to or in Michael’s community.”

connect — 1. find time to talk about something another person knows about and see what happens after that 2. find others who have things in common with us or bring together other people who we’ve met that have things in common and see what happens after that
1. “I’d love to connect with you, Craig, about the best laptop I should look into buying.”
2. “Katie, I need to connect you to my friend, Cal.  He makes short films and would be interested in helping with editing some of these videos.”

good life — different for each person depending on interests, passions [see interests, passions definition] but includes a variety of ordinary citizens, family, and friends and one in which a person can live the Five Valued Experiences through meaningful ways
“We’re going to host a PATH to talk about what a good life looks like with Ari.”  [see PATH, circle definition]

harvest — bring it back to everyone else
“Alright, everybody!  Let’s go ahead and harvest what was said and heard.”

invitation — 1. an opportunity to get deeper, if you want.  2. Sometimes literally, an invitation to RSVP to attend an event.  We’d like you there, but it’s your choice.  We’ll probably keep inviting you, though, to lots of different things, based on your passions, skills and interests. [see passions, skills and interest definition]
“We’re making an invitation to Joe’s committee to spend time with him outside of the history project, too.” 
“I’m sending you an invitation to the Final Four Flyaway let me know if you want to go with me again this year!”

intentional — do it on purpose, have a reason for it, and mean it.
“Inviting Master Korchak to Kyle’s PATH was intentional.  We needed a martial arts expert in the room.” [see PATH definition]

interests

interests–stuff you like or like the idea of; things you find interesting 
“What kind of interests do you have?”
Ex: motorcycles, abstract art, antiques, couture fashion

ordinary places— places that are not separate, segregation-based, specific to disability, or exclusionary
Ex: a community recreation center fitness class instead of a disability fitness group
“We’re looking for ordinary places where Michelle could share the community journals.”

Ari & her PATH, January 2013

PATH — a visual, future-mapping conversation where people and their circles discuss what is most positive and possible with and for the person of focus
“In my PATH I talked about wanting to move out and learning how to build things with my hands like bookshelves and chairs.”

passions — things you feel strongly about or stuff you love
“So, what are some of your passions?” or “What are you passionate about?”
Ex: literacy, LGBTQ rights, inclusion, veteran affairs

people you know the least — people don’t know well or at all.  Having to introduce yourself is preferred
“Sit with people you know the least.”
Ex: not your significant other or best friend

skills — stuff you’re good at, things you can do.
“What unique skills do you have?”
Ex: web design, grant writing, cooking, hair braiding

small group — less than 5 people makes up a small group. 4 is preferable.
“Let’s break up into small groups.”

SRV or Social Role Valorization — big stuff here.  In a really oversimplified definition SRV is about how someone can be seen as different and that difference is seen in a negative way; It also talks about what not to do, how to bend over backwards to make sure labeled people aren’t seen as criminal, holy innocents, forever children, burdensome, objects of pity.  (For more info google “social role valorization.” There are a ton of scholarly articles written about it.  If you’d like to attend a Starfire discussion on SRV, drop a line in the comment section and we’ll keep you posted on the next one we host, usually every August.)
“I went to an SRV training a few weeks ago and it really has me thinking about how some people we know still talk to Sarah like she’s 8.  She turned 31 last January!  She not a little girl anymore.”

valued role — things that give us status; positive roles that we can be known by, roles that others hold in high regard 
Ex: Mom, uncle, coach, assistant teacher, musician, chef, event planner, writer,
“Margot has a valued role at Interfaith Hospitality Network where she works with the after-school program.”

Now that we’ve covered some of the words used, let’s work on mastering the vocabulary.  I know you can do this!

Mastering Vocabulary:

“This is your invitation to be authentic with a small group about the questions you have right now.”

Translation: If you want, get in a group with 4 or so people, talk about what you know, honestly about any questions you’re thinking.

“At Zak’s PATH we talked about finding ordinary places in his community where he might be able to connect to train enthusiasts.”

Translation: In the neighborhood of Mack, where Zak lives, we want to find where train enthusiasts meet that are not segregated places specifically designed for people with disabilities who like trains.

“DaMarr just hosted a community event where he connected to other people interested in Zumba.  It was a great to see all of the Five Valued Experiences working at once.”

Translation: DaMarr planned an event open to a bunch of people where he met people who also liked Zumba.  While there, he was respected by leading two Zumba dances, met some new people with those who attended, gave back to his neighborhood by opening it up to whomever wanted to attend and had it at a recreation center instead of Starfire.  He got to make choices as to what day it would take place on, who to send it to, and what songs he would like to lead.

Other “Oddities” You Should Know:

What’s with the name tags?
We want you to know people’s names.  And we want to remember yours.  There are a lot of people in Cincinnati.  Let’s give each other a break if we don’t always remember.  No one likes that uncomfortable “Hey…(elongated pause)…you!!” when you see someone you should know but draw a blank on their name.

name tag.

What’s with the markers?  Why is she drawing?
Listening is sometimes hard.  By giving visuals, people can see what was said.  Pictures  give life to the conversation, and not everyone can read.

markers.

Why do you care what neighborhood I live in?
Because place is important to all of us.  If you live in Harrison, you probably don’t care too much about what Loveland is up to.  Also, if you live in Mt. Healthy and sit in a small group with someone else from Mt. Healthy, you’ll be excited that you have that in common
and who knows where that conversation can go from there.

Sure this seems like a long list to learn.  But it’s not really.  We already know what these words mean.  You know what “authentic” means.  You know what small + group means.  This is just a cheat sheet to make showing up to Gatherings and hearing this stuff feel a little less weird.

And we’ll never burn incense, I promise.  Unless you intentionally ask me over to your community to do so as we connect over authentic conversations where we harvest ourinterests, skills, passions, and we sit in a small group and find out what a good life means for you.

I’ll wait for that invitation, though.  Until then, I’ll see you at the next Gathering.  I’ll be the one wearing a name tag.

: )

“I hope, wherever you come from,
there is someone who holds your story.
Someone who remembers you when you
were knee-high to a grasshopper.” –david pitonyak

Who Holds Your Story is probably one of my most favorite articles to share with people who have asked to volunteer, or asked for a guest speaker from Starfire, or asked for a facilitator for an upcoming “service week.”  In small groups, people read the first few pages aloud and then we’ll talk about case files vs. memories, stories vs. data, and how people’s identities often get lost in service systems.  I always ask for the names of some of the locations they’ll be volunteering and I’ll get the same responses Drop-Inn Center, Tender Mercies, Starfire, YWCA, nursing homes, soup kitchens, Boys and Girl’s Club.

All are great organizations here in Cincinnati.  And then I just say it– the labels associated with those places, the so-called “types of people” they’ll “encounter” instead of meet:

The Poor.                The Homeless.              The Disabled.              The Elderly.
Felons.              Addicts.            At-Risk.             Illiterate.             Low-income.

Most recently, I talked with a group of high school girls at Mercy High School on the Westside of Cincinnati.  “These are words we’d never use to describe ourselves, our families, or our best friends” I told them.  And some nodded, understanding how the story we’d just read together applied to their week of service coming up.  I talked about how they likely had a case file on them in their school, and that it probably didn’t say much beyond vaccinations, test scores, emergency contact info, and disciplinary actions.

I explained that at each of the service sites they’d visit, it’s likely that people will have a case file there, too.  A place where official notes and documentation are kept. I explained that case files are helpful, especially to staff people like myself who need information about how to contact family in an emergency, or if someone is allergic to peanuts, but it doesn’t tell someone’s real story, and it doesn’t honor where they came from.

Case files keep track of clients and data.  But they don’t tell people’s stories.  There’s a difference between being known by what’s in your file, and being known as a person.

This is a story about being known as a person.  About someone being remembered from when they were “knee-high to a grasshopper,” a story about two people who continue to hold each others’ story, and hold the story of the person who bonded them together.

Margot and Kathy met up a few weeks ago at a local coffee show to talk deeper about the 3Cs, Margot’s PATH goals, and Margot’s life.  I was there to help Kathy, an old friend of Margot’s family, learn a little more about what Margot is working towards (aquatic instructor certification, life-guarding, childcare, taking the Metro bus around town, looking for another job besides Kroger, and in explaining 51 People and the importance of other unpaid citizens and friends in Margot’s life.)

As I understand it, Kathy has known Margot since she was a little girl.  She was one of her mom’s best friend, and has stayed in Margot’s (and her siblings’) lives since her mother passed away in 2010.  She attended Margot’s PATH and has a love for her that is obvious, even in a brief coffee meeting.

Margot’s PATH, 2012

The two shared stories of inside jokes from different functions they’d attended over the years, how Margot’s siblings we’re doing, and then conversation trailed to cats and kittens, and Margot’s childhood home where she lived with her mom and brother and sister before she passed away.

“11 cats” Margot corrected.

“You never had 11 cats!  When?” Kathy laughed.

“Yeah huh!  Bella. She had kittens, Kathy! So we did for a little bit.”

“Always kids and animals” Kathy smiled, and told of Margot’s house with her sister and brother, and her mom.  For a moment the two shared a laugh about the cats, and reminisced about “old times.”

I explained the importance of Margot not doing things alone, about needing good people, people who like the same things, too.  I explained that paid staff were often good people, but often transient, and whose jobs were to keep people safe, fed, healthy, housed, but not often did their role include to help people to have friends, find friends who were ordinary citizens, make connections in their neighborhood, or know what was most important to a person.  We talked more about paid staff, answering questions, talking about home staff vs. day program staff, and shedding light on how systems work with and for someone’s life.

It wasn’t a paid staff’s job to keep memories, to remember kids and a house full of cats, or even stories about Margot’s mother.

It took a few honest conversations that day (and previously in conversations with Courtney, a co-worker of mine) with Kathy to help her get to this point.  Kathy assumed that because Margot has paid staff that she will be safe, fed, healthy, housed.  And she was partially right.  That is what paid staff do, and most do it very well.  Margot will likely never be hungry, without medical attention, or homeless.  However, it wasn’t until we continued to talk about stories, memories, and unpaid friends and citizens, that Kathy understood a little bit more, that while systems will keep her safe, fed, supervised, and housed, they won’t necessarily keep her happy, remember stories, make plans about what’s most positive and possible in life.

“Keep, keeping on… Now I understand.  It’s not just filling up days, but making sure she’s happy, and known.”  We talked more about Margot and Kathy working on a resume together, different volunteer opportunities, about Kathy sending some emails to contacts she has a recreation center and how Courtney and I could help find connections, support the work needed to make good things happen.

“I won’t be around forever, either.”  Kathy said, “We’ve got to meet new people.”  The two talked about plans to volunteer together at spaghetti dinners in order to meet more people and make more connections.

“We could even get a cheap lunch and save our money for pet food. Buy it and volunteer at the pet food pantry– save your coupons, Margot! (laughter).  This could be ‘our thing.'”

“A sad and all too common truth for people who experience developmental disabilities is that little, if anything, is known of their stories. Reams and reams of paperwork are generated each year, but only a fraction of what is generated describes the person’s connection to the world. The file is instead a collection of things that the service system wants — a chronicling of interventions, evaluations, signatures, data points. There is no unfolding of things in these files, no character development, no plot.  It all reads like the fine print on a cough medicine bottle.”  (David Pitonyak)

It felt good to hear Margot and Kathy dream of what could be their “thing” together and making plans, that Margot’s childhood is remembered by Kathy, that her mother, her home, the cats are all memories that someone else knows, and cares about too.  That stories Margot carries about her life are not lost, but in fact cause laughter by others who remember that too, even the details (and number of cats) are remembered a little bit differently.

It felt good that this “meeting” generated no paperwork, no signatures, no interventions or evaluations, that this meeting has nothing to do with her case file, but everything to do with her story, and who she is, and who holds her story.

Learn how making friends can help you get to work without a car…. How stories coming out of Cincinnati’s 52 neighborhoods about the ordinary people can be more interesting than People magazine… How trying a day filled with random acts of kindness can be a philosophical leap into a life where we realize how interdependent we all are on one another…

Shane Hines recently applied for a contest with GOOD, “a global community of people who give a damn,” in an effort to bring events like these to Cincinnati, where people can learn, play, and explore together. Check out Shane’s contest submission below:

GOOD asked that contestants submit a video, like the one above, then choose 3 themes out of a list they provided and propose an event.  Here’s what Shane and a team of leaders from Starfire came up with:

Transportation…
Our event on transportation would be guided by Joseph Scheets and representatives from Queen City Bikes. With an interactive lesson plan, people would be challenged to learn the bus/bike routes while linking with other people based on shared passions. In the end, participants will be surprised to learn how connecting with people from their local community helps eliminate the need to rely on vehicles for transportation, not just because of carpooling, but because the closer we become to our communities, the less reason we have to drive away to find activities to get involved in. This event would be hosted in the lobby of Union Terminal, Cincinnati’s Amtrak station. People would be challenged to use an alternate form of transportation aside from their cars to arrive at the event. Joseph’s network through last year’s Cincinnati Street Films Festival would help spread the word about the event.

Exploration…
Our event on exploration would be guided by a local appreciative inquiry expert/asset-based development instructor, along with Krista Brinkmeyer (artist from the Cincy Story Mural). At this event, people would break into groups and take off to various areas throughout the 52 neighborhoods of Cincinnati. Every team will have a tour guide, or someone who has grown up in the neighborhood, and will be given the challenge of exploring the positive parts of what each neighborhood has to offer. They will also collect stories from the locals, and bring these back to the group. The group will then reconvene at the end of the event to share what they have learned and any surprises they discovered. This event would be held on Fountain Square right in the heart of downtown Cincinnati. There will be a live Twitter feed as well as a Flickr page set up to load photos from the exploration. Krista’s network from the Cincy Story Mural would help us spread the word.
Neighboring..
Our event on neighboring would be guided by Kasey McCarthy (kindness expert), Meghan Snyder (random acts of kindness guru) from the World Kindness Club, Cincinnati chapter. At this event, people would learn about the power of giving and interdependence through random acts of kindness assigned to teams in the same fashion as a Task Party. This event would be held at Washington Park, located in Over-the-Rhine. Through this event, people will reach out to “strangers” to discover the ties that bind us all as neighbors, citizens, and friends.

We should hear by next month if Shane and Starfire’s application won the contest. Wish us luck!

If you’re familiar with our journey, you know that we’ve had some pretty big learning moments.  One of the most important was when we started learning about Social Role Valorization.

But one of the things I struggled with when I learned about SRV was that it does an excellent job of laying out what not to do, but falls a little short on what to do.  Granted, it says “find valued roles,” and “enhance people’s image.”  But obviously there’s a need for some guidance on action, since people with disabilities are still living the same kinds of lives they lived 20 years ago.

So the question is:  “what should we be doing?”

When I asked her this question, Jo Krippenstapel gave me a copy of this article by John O’Brien:  “What’s Worth Working For?  Leadership For Better Quality Human Services”

In it, John details five valued experiences that help people with disabilities live good lives.  He also details five correlated “service accomplishments” that services/agencies/organizations could strive toward to help people have more of the valued experiences:

It’s a pretty simple place to start, which is why it’s such a brilliant and perfect answer to the question “What should we be doing?”

If we think about our own lives (and the lives of everyone we know) within the context of the Five Valued Experiences, the answer becomes apparent.  And it turns out that it’s not expensive, anyone can do it, and it’s not all that hard to get started:

Sharing Places

Is life better if you have a lot of places that you share with other people?  Of course!  If you only hang out at home and work, you are missing out on church, cafes, parks, town squares, sidewalks, museums, and lots of other places.  These places are vibrant community spaces that anyone can use.  We meet our best friends and future partners at these places.  We take our children to these places to meet up with other children.  These are the places we feel safe and come together as a community or neighborhood.   Jan Gehl, world-renowned architect, argues that shared public spaces are the basis for a thriving, vibrant democracy.  He has examples of totalitarian regimes who started by shutting down town squares to squelch dissent.  Our own constitution guarantees the right to “peaceably assemble.”

Ray Oldenburg talks about “third places” (first= home, second=work) as important places where we meet each other and network on equal footing.  They are essential to building a good life.

But what if you were only allowed to go to places that were designed for people with your same label?  For most people with disabilities, they only get to go to special schools/classrooms, live in special homes, go on special outings, and work in special workshops.  If that were your life, would life be more vibrant or less?  Do they have a better chance at meeting new people or worse?

Take a look at this video:

Joseph cannot drive, but he can ride the bus and he can ride a bike.  It just so happens that every single Thursday, rain or shine, there is a group of people who meet in Northside for the “Slow and Steady Bike Ride,” a bike ride hosted and coordinated by Mobo, the local bicycling co-op to promote cycling for everyone, not just the hardcore spandex wearing pro’s.

Think about the difference between Joseph showing up to ride every Thursday instead of going on a bowling outing with other people with disabilities.  Over time, he develops friendships with other people who love to ride, and that is exactly what has happened.  He gets invited to parties, he gets to hang out for burgers after the ride, and he can go to their bicycle maintenance courses, or ride in a charity ride with them.  The possibilities are endless, especially if he keeps going every week for the rest of his life.

The more that people with disabilities can share common typical space with others, the more they are known for the individual they are, instead of being seen as part of a group of disabled people.

photo courtesy of michael providenti

photo courtesy of michael providenti

photo courtesy of michael providenti

Making Choices

We like to celebrate freedom and individuality in this country, so we know that choicesare important to us:  where to spend time, who to hang out with, what to eat, where to worship, how to spend our life’s work.  It gives us a sense of confidence and let’s us express ourselves.  Would your life be better or worse if other people made choices for you?  If we had a time machine, we could go back and ask our teenage-selves that very question, and I’m sure we’d give our adult-selves a pretty quick answer “I can’t wait to make my own decisions!”  And having a ton of choices doesn’t necessarily mean we’re all good.  Anyone with cable TV will tell you that.  It has to be the right choice.  The personal choice.  The choice with meaning.

For most people with disabilities, their choices are limited by someone else, a parent or guardian, or some paid staff involved in their lives – teachers, counselors, aides, program coordinators, caseworkers, executive directors, etc.  There are degrees of this, of course.  Some people have to do whatever their group home or day program plans for them.  Others get to choose from a variety of outings on a calendar, but even still, those outings have been planned for them.  The Slow and Steady Bike Ride wouldn’t be on that list of outings, for example.

Take a look at this video:

Ashley is in love with cats.  Any cat!  So she connected with Cheryl, who started a business around her own love of cats.  Together, Ashley and Cheryl recruited everyone they knew who shared their love for cats and held the “Party for a Purrr-pose” to fund a “trap, neuter and return” program.  Now, I’ve led somewhere in the neighborhood of 1,000 outings in the past 15 years.  Never once have I led an outing to trap, neuter and return cats.  But these ladies do essentially that like twice a week!

So for Ashley, our calendars and outings were woefully inadequate.  She has found her tribe, so to speak.  And they love her.  They are planning the 2nd Annual Party for a Purrr-pose this spring.  So even our best efforts to provide people with a diverse menu of options fall short of listening to a person’s heart.  When we discover the “pattern” we were made for, it gives us meaning.  It frees us to follow our personal calling, no matter how random or seemingly different it may seem.

Ashley and fellow trappers

Ashley and Cheryl

Ashley and her commitee and the kids they hosted a “Cat Toy Crafting” series for

Making Contributions

What if you were only seen as a “taker?”  What if your whole life everyone just saw you as someone who they were supposed to help or pity?  We all get a degree of self-worth when we give of ourselves.  Whether it’s satisfaction in a job well-done, doing a favor for a friend or neighbor, or volunteering for some civic function, being a “giver” raises our self-esteem and status in the eyes of others.  It has something to do with reciprocation, fairness, and the give-and-take of connectedness we build our communities and relationships on.

Many people with disabilities are always a “client” or “consumer.”  Someone who is using up tax dollars or the lifeblood of their families.  This means employers don’t see their potential for work.  Neighbors don’t see their potential for friendship.

Watch this video:

And then read this post  and this post about Mike’s contributions to our city and my life.

Mike has a job and is a taxpayer.  He coaches a youth basketball team and has won an award for being such a great influence in the lives of those kids.  And he’s one of my best friends.  He is always there to joke about our rival basketball teams (Me Kentucky, him Indiana), and we hang out…fishing, having some drinks with the guys, wings, whatever.  I should also mention that Mike is an avid volunteer with the Hamilton County Republican Party, but we don’t discuss politics and I refuse to send traffic their way by linking them here.  He will not be happy when he reads this.  Sorry, Mike!

His story is one of connection and contribution in many ways.  People see him as an engaged citizen.  They know his name because he shows up and jumps right in.  We’ve offered outings for Mike and other people with disabilities to volunteer together at non-profits around the city, but as great as those chances are, they are still limited.  When he’s on an outing, Mike isn’t seen as giving his personal talents, he’s seen as part of a group….of people with disabilities.  So the status and appreciation he deserves/gets isn’t assigned to him.  It’s assigned to Starfire.  So we have help Mike be seen for his own unique contributions.  When people appreciate our individual contribution, we are valued.  The world opens up to us.

Mike with his fellow United Way honorees

Mike with his colleagues at GBBN Architects

Mike and Alyson with their team at the “Difference Maker” awards ceremony

Growing in Relationships

Do you have a better life if you have a lot of diverse relationships?  This is not about being an introvert or an extrovert.  We all need some basic relationships, and a few deep ones.  Relationships lead to love, safety, belonging and networks for jobs.

We all have some relationships of circumstance, like those we have with neighbors, co-workers and family, but the really really best ones are those we choose or happen into.  They are based on some sort of shared and freely chosen connection….some kind of affinity or affection for each other.  And we grow into these relationships over time, so they have to be stable and consistent to take root.  And knowing each other changes how we treat each other.  We’re more respectful and kind and patient with people we know than we are with strangers, so there’s something important and transformative about being known.

As we’ve seen for so long, most people with disabilities are limited to relationships of circumstance instead of relationships based on affection.  And often, those “circumstances” are narrowed down to one small aspect of their personhood:  disability.  They only go to school with other people with disabilities, they only hang out with other people with disabilities, they only date other people with disabilities, they only play sports with other people with disabilities, they only work with other people with disabilities and they only live with other people with disabilities.  I heard Tom Kohler once describe these as “relationship ghettoes.”  When we think about it, it brings clarity of purpose, doesn’t it?  We have to work to help people expand their relationships beyond “disability.”

Take a look at this video:

Krista last year was transformed into “KB.”  Notice Aaron, who makes his first appearance at 0:24 giving the rock n’ roll hand signal with Krista.  Krista and he connected through a love of creating organic and underground art.   When they met, they immediately hit it off.  Aaron, a punk rocker who owns his own screenprinting business, started calling her “KB,” and it stuck.  She became “KB” to everyone, and started to be known as an artist and cheerleader for Cincinnati.

At the launch of her project, she asked Aaron to speak.  He seemed shy, but stood up in front of a bar full of Krista’s friends and family and said “KB, you’re awesome.  I’m so excited about this project and no matter what, from now on, you’ve got my heart.” As he spoke that last part, he pounded his chest with his fist.

It was beautiful and showed the potential and power of friendship and reciprocation.   Their playfulness at 0:43 is beautiful….and their pose at the 1:12 mark literally takes my breath away.  It ranks as one of my favorite moments ever. These moments sing out to us “this is what is possible in life when we find each other!”

And this relationship has other benefits as well.  Aaron and Krista work together at his studio every other Monday.  You can imagine the possibilities.

the Cincy Story Mural project committee

Krista and her committee

KB and Aaron at DIY printing

Krista and Committee Member Randy with one of the completed murals

Experiencing Respect

Being respected and having dignity are a basic human need.  We often think that our self-worth comes from our possessions – our homes, our cars, our ginormous televisions…But in reality, our self-worth comes from our titles, labels and roles.  We are fathers, mothers, artists, writers, listeners, neighbors, employees, citizens, bread-winners, craftsmen, and a host of other things.

But we all also have our problems and struggles….what if those shortcomings defined our lives?  Would that be a dignified way to live?  Candice said it best in this post:

You could introduce anyone deficit first.  My chronically lazy daughter.  My useless and distant husband.  My clinically depressed sister.  My financially inept cousins. Oh look!  There’s my infertile best friend, and her husband, the one who was fired last week.  Over there is my brother, you know, the one who dropped out of college and impregnated his now ex-girlfriend. There’s my niece, the one who still owes me $200 and never visits family when she’s in town.  There’s the uncle that was addicted to painkillers… you get the point.  None of the absurd examples tell us anything.   Neither does “my mentally disabled daughter.”  I wonder what Betsy cares about, what she’s interested in?  What’s the funniest joke she’s heard in a while?  What was her 16th birthday like?  What’s her style?  I’m really less interested in the fact she has a disability.  It matters, of course, especially to her and her family, but it doesn’t have to be that which defines her–especially if her brother is “the lawyer” and she’s “mentally disabled.”  Brenda said it best once, and I’ll have to paraphrase,  when someone is 50, they’ll still have a disability, but they’ll also have their inner self, things they care about, things they’re proud of, valuable roles, self-esteem.

People who have Down syndrome, or autism, or cerebral palsy, or some other kind of label like that are only known by “disability.”  What’s perceived as being “wrong” about them becomes their identity.  It’s just degrading, plain and simple.  And it’s wrong.  It’s such a small part of who the person actually is.

Ronny decided he wanted to focus in on music, and in particular, drumming.  Through his connections, he met Baoku and the two of them developed an idea to create an original show.  They both had a belief that “hope” was a transformative part in their lives, so they made that the theme of their production.

So “Be Hopeful” was born.  It was contagious and pretty soon it included not only drummers, but horn-players, guitarists and singers.  It grew to include rappers, spoken-word artists and poets.  It drew in Columbian dancers and eventually attracted around 500 people to two showings.

One of the cast members told me a story about him inviting his former professor to come to the show.  The professor showed up and after the show said this:  “When you invited me, I knew it had something to do with someone with a disability.  I didn’t know what to expect.  But this….this is legit.”  This tells us that his expectations and imagination around what would be possible was lowered, simply because he knew a person with a disability was involved in some way.  Somehow, he expected it to be less than “legit.”  He soon learned, as did everyone who saw it, that not only was it legit, but it was one of the coolest things he’s ever experienced, all these different Cincinnatians from all walks of life, expressing hope for the future together.

And his mind wasn’t the only one that was expanded.  The show I saw opened with a poet.  After she read, she said that she had a six-year-old son with cerebral palsy, and that being a part of Ronny’s performance had given her new hope for her son’s future.  Her expectations for her own son’s life were raised.  She will be less likely to settle for the same old boring story around disability the world is perpetuating.

Ronny and Jai All Day, the emcee for Be Hopeful

Be Hopeful cast

OK, all of that is great, but here’s the secret:

While all of what I wrote above is important, the true beauty of the Five Valued Experiences lies in how they interplay with each other!

You can’t make good choices without a lot of trusted relationships to advise and support you.  You can’t be respected unless you can make a contribution others see as valuable.  You can’t build really deep personal relationships without meeting a lot of new people in new places and being respected by them.  And these five valued experiences go on and on like that, criss-crossing and strengthening each other.

Again, this has been written about in many places before, notably by John and his wife Connie Lyle O’Brien.  But I wanted to make sure and emphasize just how important I think this is.

They are the single best framework I’ve come across for how to begin to build a good life for anyone, but especially for people who get labeled “disabled.”

So now that you’ve got the basics, here’s how we used them to launch Starfire on a learning journey:

In the fall of 2010, we held two “Cafe Conversations” each month around one of the Five Valued Experiences.  September was “Sharing Places,” October was “Making Choices,” November was “Making Contributions,” December was “Growing in Relationships” and January of 2011 was “Experiencing Respect.”  Anyone was welcome to attend – staff, families, Board members, volunteers, funders and the community at large.  Jo and Scott Osterfeld alternated facilitating.

We designed each conversation to be about two hours.  We would gather in small groups, and start with a simple question:  “What are some shared places in your life and why are they important?  What would life be like if you didn’t have that shared place?”  People would listen to each other talk and then we would have the groups shout out the wisdom they heard from each other.  They would, of course, say how important all of those things were and give awesome and practical answers that we’d never considered.  It was a powerful demonstration of the common sense of this framework.  Then we’d ask them “How would you help someone share more places?” and they would come up with tons of ideas.

Finally, we would tell them to grab some markers and paper and “imagine it’s 2019.”  We picked 2019 because it was far enough in the future that our imaginations could stretch, but we wouldn’t be in flying cars or on megabuses to Mars by then.  (And we felt a “2020 vision” would eventually become too cliché.)

They’d struggle at first, but eventually came up with some pretty inspiring images of the future.

one of the “visions of 2019”

We combined all of that wisdom into a Prezi, which you can check out here.

Those conversations changed our “organizational conversation.”  We stopped worrying so much about “independence” and “respite” and “peer interaction.”  We started to see that everyone needed these things in their lives, and we started to imagine ourselves in the role of helping foster that spark.  And it wasn’t something handed down from on high by the Board or Executive Director.  It was common sense stuff that everyone had lent their voice to.  It was a “shared vision of a desirable future” as John had written in one of his articles.

The last bit I need to tell you about the Five Valued Experiences is that they’ve become a “job description,” of sorts.  We can tell how good we’re doing by thinking about each of the valued experiences, in turn.

As anyone alive today knows, one of the self-inflicted evils we’ve created is a fetish with measurement.  (I say “evil” and “fetish” half-jokingly, but there’s a bit of truth to it:  will we ever be good enough to live up to the standards we set for ourselves?)

So I set about trying to find something that would measure social roles.  I either stumbled upon or was sent this tool, developed (of course) by John O’Brien.  We studied this and thought it would be beneficial to do a John O’Brien mash-up, so we combined the Five Valued Experiences with these Eight Sectors of Community Life, and came up with this:

It’s not very pretty, but our logic is that if we help people share common places, make choices, make contributions, grow in relationships and experience respect in each of the sectors, we’d be making some significant progress.  It’s way more holistic than this diagram, but it seems to help new staff, in particular, think about small steps to start.

This post could have been called “A love letter to John and Connie and Jo,” but they’d not like that, so I’ll just leave it here, in the conclusion.

today’s post is written by contributor Kathleen Cail

photo borrowed from kelle hampton’s blog

Recently I have been “parish shopping.” After living in one community for 17 years, we moved and are looking for a new parish to join. You’d think this would be easy. Aren’t all Catholic churches alike? Well, I’m here to tell you, they are not.

A few weekends ago, a priest at one of these parishes quoted Robert Louis Stevenson in his homily. Little did he know how much meaning that quote had for me.

So long as we love we serve; so long as we are loved by others, I would almost say that we are indispensable; and no man is useless while he has a friend.

In the midst of searching for the “right” parish, this quote reminded me that there are different parishes for people and their various spiritual needs AND that there are different friendships out there for all of us too. This is the more important message, actually.

Over the course of the last year or so, I have had the privilege of listening to parents talk about their hopes and worries for their sons’ and daughters’ social lives. I have been able to share my hopes and fears too. We have all said very similar things–we want our children to have friends but we wonder about their ability to engage in meaningful friendships. The funny thing is that I think if we step back and really look at our definition of ‘meaningful friendship’, it probably reflects that very special and unique “high-value” relationship we have with only one or two people in our lives, but doesn’t include all the looser-friendships we have collected over the course of our lives. Those friendships are no less important. They are just different and fill different roles and needs for us.

I have a couple of friends from high school and college who I rarely see, talk to occasionally, and keep up with through annual Christmas letters and Facebook. I have friends I’ve gotten to know through the years from various experiences we’ve shared at one time, and we run into each other over and over again and enjoy seeing each other and catching up. I have friends with whom I like to catch up, share a few laughs with over drinks or dinner, friends I play tennis with, and other friends—my “B.F.F.s” who I talk with about everything-the good, the bad and the ugly of life. I want to be with some people because they make me laugh, or they share an interest of mine, or I just care about them. That is enough for the friendship to exist. All of these people are important to me because they make my community. They each contribute in some way to make that community and my life vibrant and full, and they help me to feel appreciated, acknowledged, and valued. I do the same for them by being their friend.

All of our children can be appreciated for something that they bring to a relationship—humor, interest, knowledge, kindness, participating in an event or activity, etc. There will be people who they meet who assign a “high-value” to them and most importantly, they will meet one or two people to whom they assign a “high-value.” They will meet people they will call friends and who will call them friends too.

How do we get there though? There are hurdles. First we have to see in our own children those wonderful qualities that other people will enjoy and appreciate. I have to see that people will enjoy my daughter’s humor, and you have to see that people will enjoy your son’s interest & knowledge of basketball, your daughter’s interest in acting, or your son’s interest in movies. We have to appreciate those qualities, nurture them, sell them and BELIEVE that others can see and appreciate them too.

Then comes the big hurdle– taking the chance—taking the risk. Our sons and daughters are no different than anyone else in that they have to put themselves out there. Yes, the difference is that we may have to help facilitate this and we may have to help lead people on the journey with us. It won’t be easy, but someone much wiser than me said nothing worth doing is ever easy. So we start small, and honestly. We introduce our daughters/sons to the social world of our street, block, and neighborhood. We introduce our neighbors to our children and we let them know that our children need and want friendships and that we want and need our friends and neighbors to be in relationship with our children. We ask for friendship—maybe this is more overt than we have had to be, but that is OK too. There will be success and failure, acceptance and rejection. This is no different than any relationship we have all faced.

Just because our sons or daughters don’t really ask questions in conversation, or try to find out about the other person’s interest, doesn’t mean that a friendship can’t happen. Friendship is unique to the individuals involved. It doesn’t have to meet the standards of that rare, high-value friendship that you and I may have with one person. What is important is that through some form of friendship, we serve and are served by one another and “no man is useless while he has a friend.” –and is a friend.

It’s freezing outside. The wind has picked up the cold air and sent it blasting onto every exposed part of my skin as I make my way across the parking lot from my car into a breakfast spot along a strip of businesses. Diana is waiting inside, eating a cheesy breakfast sandwich and sucking down a pop. I was running late, having mixed up where we were planning to meet and driving across town before realizing I was at the wrong spot. She didn’t mind, she said and offered me a seat.

“People just piled in, it was great,” Diana started. Our plan this morning is to talk about last week’s Connections gathering in Oakley, and so we begin by gasping our breath at the number of people who had showed up that night. Some were expected, others not. Held at the library in one of the back rooms, we were sure that space had never seen so many people. 

I get up to grab a coffee and sandwich.

“Did you walk there that night?” I asked, sitting back down and warming my hands on the paper exterior of my coffee cup.

“I live about a mile away from the library, but it was just too cold and dark to walk,” she said. “So John swung by on his way and got me.”

John is one of Diana’s co-workers. We reminisced about all the stories that came out of the evening, all the gifts we heard that were shared. 

“When I first heard about these gatherings my thought was, ‘I have a boyfriend. I have family and friends. I have a full schedule, why do I need to meet more people?’” Then, speaking in a tone of both affirmation and realization, “I see it now.”

As we spoke, her eyes seemed to open more, filling with new ideas of what her neighborhood was and who was a part of her community.

“Some people who were there I knew, or I had seen before, but I didn’t know they lived around me,” she said. “I sat by Carlos – a person who was born in Guatemala, and I think he lived in Mexico before he moved – to Oakley!” she said, emphasizing “Oakley” as if it were the smallest, most plain-Jane place in the world for Carlos to wind up.

The impression she gave me was that after this Connections gathering in her neighborhood, Oakley is a more interesting place to live for Diana. It’s as if knowing the stories of the people who live nearby, and the gifts they have to offer motivates pride in a person, the kind of pride that gets people involved in maintaining the safety and goodness in another’s life beside our own family, boyfriends, or BFFs. 

“As it turns out, I sat right beside someone I’ve never met before who’s actually writing his thesis on transportation, which is right up my alley,” she said.

Diana is a transportation advocate working for Hamilton County Developmental Disability Services. She has worked to change things like the height of the windows on public transportation to be low enough for people in wheelchairs to see where they are headed, and has campaigned to replace the word “Handicapped Parking” with “Accessible.” 

“Cincinnati’s transportation is moving up slowly. People really need to be part of it,” she said. So who better to sit right next to at the Connections gathering than someone who wants to be a part of the transportation movement in Cincinnati. Last week, the two met up and spoke a time about her advocacy work and his research.

“I think it will widen his audience for his thesis,” she said, noting some concerns she is aware of regarding Access, the public transportation for people with disabilities in addition to her knowledge of the public bus routes. “My friend can drive, and she’ll ask, ‘What time will you be here?’ I have to say, ‘Well, I don’t know.’ Makes you think how easy it is to jump in the car. But for some people who cannot drive, whether it be disability, or they lost their job/insurance…I’ve seen a lot of people ride the bus because of the recent recession. It’s just so easy not to think – I can just go out and do what I want to do.”

I asked her what questions she left the Connections gathering with, what thoughts she was left pondering at the end of the night.

“What do we do with all these stories?” she asked. “It can’t just stop in that one room. Or that one place. I hope people keep coming back, just connecting.”

Notes from a recent Starfire Connections gathering

It helps when you can go somewhere, know a name….Being known=feeling safe. But you don’t go out if you don’t know anyone…

What comes out of the Connections gatherings will be a long, even lifelong effort from people in Cincinnati. It will be years of neighbors, who maybe never even knew they were neighbors, coming together to get to know one another’s gifts, stories, and connect over passions for anything. Trains, bees, bikes, photography, compost, NASCAR, globe trotting, vacuum cleaners, we’ve heard them all. We’ve seen how passion for trains can transform from a hobby you do alone in your basement, to a group of train enthusiasts creating an annual tour of homes who are host to elaborate train sets.

When you connect to others, the world becomes a safer place, and doors open to things that alone are not possible.

My coffee was near the bottom and getting cold, and the draft coming from the window wasn’t helping our cozy conversation last any longer. We stood up to put on our coats, and Diana began layering, first a sweater, then a jacket, scarf, gloves and hat. She lives a block away and walked to meet me. I, on the other hand, put on my too-thin winter coat and looked forward to the heat blasting in my car. 

“You want a ride?” I asked.

“No, I’ve got some errands to run,” she said. So we hugged and departed, she walking down the sidewalk toward the grocery store, and I weaving through the cars in the lot, keys in hand. Both of us silently making the promise to keep showing up to these gatherings, and continue reminding one another about all the gifts our little place in the world has to offer, doing our best to be sure that no one gets left behind.

The next Central Connection gatherings will be tomorrow at the Oakley Library starting at 6p, open to anyone interested in being part of their community. Feel free to come with friends, family, and neighbors.

March Connections gatherings:

Tuesday, March 5    7-8:30p   Cherry Grove UMC, 1428 Eight Mile Rd.

Monday, March 11   6:30-8p   Higher Ground Coffee House, 3721 Harrison Ave

Wednesday, March 20  6:30-8p  Bread Basket & Pastry Co.  3218 W. Galbraith Rd.

Thursday, March 21   6:30-8p  European Cafe, 9450 Montgomery Rd.

Thursday, March 28  6:30-8p Oakley Library, 4033 Gilmore Ave.