Memories that stir pride this month

Steven's developmental disability was a source of amusement for the cruel kids in our neighborhood in the late 1950s. A painful sadness would fall over Steven's face when wicked names were fired at him by the bullies. I would tell Steven, my friend, that it was OK. But it wasn't. Steven, bless him, didn't bow to the bullies. He wasn't going to be driven into isolation. Public schools at the time had no legal obligation to give Steven the individualized education that he needed and that is required of educators today. Yet, Steven did well in school and loved it, even with the merciless teasing he would get from other kids. Steven later got into a job training program and I lost touch with him.

Several years later, I ran into him at a grocery store. He gushed with joy at seeing his old friend and was thrilled to tell me that he had been working there for years, making money and making friends. We talked a while, then he shook my hand and returned to his work.

I wish Steven were here today so I could tell him again how proud I am of what he accomplished. He had to overcome so much as a disabled American. The bullying, the apathy of educators, the lack of mainstream national outrage for the unjust way he and his peers were treated, the lack of legal standing and dim hope for a happy, productive life outside of a state mental institution.

Things have gotten better for people with disabilities. Indeed, in July we observe Disability Pride Month in recognition of the 1990 passage of the historic Americans with Disabilities Act that provided new protections against discrimination.

Much more needs to be done, but this observance makes me think of a childhood friend who would never be any of the things his name-callers thought him to be. I'm proud of you, Steven. And wherever you are now, I know you are proud of yourself, too.

John Zimmerman

Carol Stream