No Equality in Seattle City Park. Mayor Says That's OK

This is an update regarding a new "community" park which was made next to the large retirement community I live in. Several people have fallen there, you can see the gritty path, and here is part of the Mayor of Seattle's response to my complaint about this park not being user-friendly.

"The park's lower bowl and pathway were designed to allow legal ADA access and use. The right hand entry path is ADA -compliant and allows for access to the semi-circle lower walking path, which also is ADA compliant. The surfacing material used on the lower -bowel pathways and ramps is ADA compliant. This surfacing was inspected before the park's opening to ensure that it complied with all local, state, and federal regulations."

(WAIT FOR IT-----) "The park's upper trails were never intended to be fully accessible. To make the upper trails fully accessible would have far exceeded our available funding. The trails are built to meet our design standards. The trail timber box stair standards do not call for railings, and no funding is available to provide railings now." (Emphasis is mine.)

Sincerely,
Mayor Mike McGinn


What do you think? Do I have a case? Tax payer money built this small community park.

Gypsy Optician in the Retirement Community

When you become disabled, move into a retirement community, can't drive and finding a lift anywhere is practically impossible, NO WORRIES---Welcome to 2012, really back to the future, because foot specialists, notaries, eye doctors, dentists, opticians, heck, they will come to YOU!

Above is my mobile optician, Cynthia, holding some eye testing thingy. Her business is appropriately named, Gypsy Specs "Traveling Optician," 425-941-7790. If you are in the Seattle area. We had a fun time.

First I made her guess my age. She had said, "You look too young to be living here." Game on.
Her guess was "61." (I'm 54) This led to my teasing her about hurting my feelings. (Good times. Oh, and this was the FIRST time someone guessed me older than I am...probably not a good sign. Not that I CARE about age...just sayin', uh-hem.)

Then a screw came loose from a pair of glasses I asked her to clean for me and I got yardage out of that. "You've been here 5 minutes and already called me old and broke my glasses. HOW long have you been doing this?" (She has actually been doing this great traveling gig for FIFTEEN years. And I'm excited about getting my new glasses!)

So I am learning how to get around arranging expensive taxi and van rides that take up half my day. COME TO DIANE. I highly recommend these home services. The cost is so much less than a drive to them. One day maybe doctors will make house calls again, but until then, every little bit helps. I got new nose clips, my frames get new digital lens, and all loose screws were tightened.

Well, all but me.

When Were You First Called Ma'am or Sir?

My first time was at Starbuck's. A late teens barista-dude nailed me. I was about 35.
I was also called Sir once at a camera store. I was about 24. Hmmm

You? How did it make you feel? I'm 54 and rarely get called anything anymore. Though I USE those titles often.

Ukulele Birthday with Greased Pole Stories

Last night after dinner I went to a birthday party for one of our new residents. That's me, attempting to play something that sounds like Happy Birthday. I do love my uke, but mostly strum to my own beat, pausing, hitting the base, anything to make some bit of music.

I rolled to a neighbors door and practiced first. They were both out, so I wasn't bothering anyone or embarrassing myself. I picked a string. WAIT. What was that echo I heard? I listened...nothing. I hit another string, there it was again.

The noise was coming from the pooch inside that apartment! He had perfect pitch. "Ewok, Ewok, " I called. And he whimpered. I forgot about their adorable dog. Ewok and I are buds.

The party was great fun. My favorite part was listening to old stories. One guy told his earliest memory was at age 3. He was at a fair and older boys were attempting to climb a greased pole. Later at home, he watched his dad cut down a tree and he was certain that a pole was going to be made just for him! He remembers his disappointment vividly.

Another recalled his paper routes. It all reminded me of hearing my Aunt Vi's old stories. Her paper route story was when she saw the paper boy running and shouting. She wondered what the fuss was about, as he got closer she heard, "The Titanic Sinks!"

There is nothing better than sitting around sharing stories.

The Art of Being Still: Use Caution

Thought of one more closet story. On my "honeymoon," I hid in our closet and after partner arrived from being out, I just stayed there, behind the clothes. I stayed there, barely breathing for over 30 minutes, finally she opened the door, reached in for a hanger, and I slowly reached out and grabbed her arm.

She screamed bloody murder then froze. (Yes, same person with whom our first date was at ER for heart condition. Okay, not my greatest idea.) I kept saying over and over, "It's ok, it's just me..." She froze, eyes wide open. I thought I'd killed her.

After she came around I was in the doghouse and I will NEVER do anything like that again.

Growing Up Around Lesbians in Indiana

This is a photo of Aunt Vi and her longtime companion's (Ivah) mom, Lane. Don't let the photo fool you, they didn't get along well. (Remember they are both looking at Ivah, who is taking the pic.) What I love is Aunt Violet's sassy pose. Lane was a good Christian woman, her father a minister. I think this was dated the early 1930's.

Lane helped raise me. Babysat when my mom was at work. Read books to me, including her Bible. I called her Laney and loved her very much, until I saw how she treated my aunt. I never understood why, as a child, but of course now I do. Aunt Vi was a loose cannon. And she held her daughter's heart. She felt Aunt Vi and Ivah were a bad influence on me.

Hiding in Closet Circa 1960

This poor excuse for a blog. Thanks for still reading.

At first I thought I had too little to say, but my post writing time has been spent on Facebook posting/reading, keying/reading court documents for my book, reading kindle books and watching old TV shows; all of which have led me to many thoughts---too many thoughts, and my poor brain wants to connect them all together. I would love a PET scan all night long on my brain.

So many new people I've "met" on Facebook. I had no idea how much gay Americans are still afraid, still discriminated against, still in the closet. Living in Seattle has insulated me from reality. It breaks my heart. They were me, about 50 years ago. Never thought when I was 54 that gay people would be living such lives. I think JFK really made me believe we were better than who we became.

Back to my brain connecting things. When I was 3 years old, my brothers played hide and seek with me. They were 10 and 11 and basically wanted me out of their hair for a bit. I found a great spot in a closet. It was a tight fit, but I crawled under some boxes and blankets and didn't make a peep. This story is legend, or was legend in my family (when I still had all my family who cared about little Diane, namely my mom and Aunt Vi). After mom wanted us kids, I wouldn't reveal myself. I stayed hunkered down for HOURS. My mom was frantic.

Yes, I heard her say it was all over, but I didn't believe her. The boys put her up to it. I wasn't about to let them win! Poor Mom, she was almost in tears when I finally came out. I got a lecture too, and so did the boys. No more hid and seek for us.

My point is: That was the first time I "officially" came out of the closet. My brain wonders, if 100 years from now people will have to search the Internet to find out why gay people used the phrase "coming out." Then will they wonder why a closet? My brain wonders it now.

Okay, Aunt Vi finally stopped by a few days ago and I'll tell you all about it next time.

Coping with Life One Door at a Time

How Teletubbies Helped My Multiple Sclerosis

Around 1999 my MS really kicked into high gear. My daily routine of walking with walker up and down my apartment complex's hallway (it was an entire city block long) was becoming more difficult each week. The IV Solumedrol was starting to be useless. My legs were failing.

My partner was having similar difficulties and our physical outlet was the PBS TV show, The Teletubbies. We watched it daily, taped it, bought special tapes, and danced our hearts out.

Yes, it was just a silly kids show, but the movements it encouraged were all we were up to. The music and cute characters kept our spirits up. We made it a happy time, a happy memory in the midst of one of the lowest health times of our lives.

Thank you, Teletubbies! You helped two ailing people stay active, laugh, and have a feeling of accomplishment.

Eye Exam, MS, Cataracts, Lenscrafters.

Believe it or not, after years of kvetching on my blog about my not having "new glasses," I finally got into an optometric physician's office last week. I know you are all relieved to stop hearing my hard luck story about the Dr. who said he was able to give me the exam while I stayed seated in my power chair, only to arrive, find out that was not true, got a one dollar exam that gave me an inaccurate prescription, that got nasty with me threatening to sue, then connecting transportation with appointments went array, then I found one place in Seattle where I could stay in my power chair, but by that time my insurance no longer covered them.

My great-aunt Vi suffered in her final decade (probably longer) because she didn't heed the advice of her eye doctor--she was all but blind at the end. My mother had cataracts, so did Aunt Vi; I had severe optic neuritis, courtesy of MS in my first year, sooo, a good eye exam is important. Plus, I AM A WRITER. My quality of life was decreasing. I found out that arrogant eye doctor who did me wrong was covered under my insurance. $315 for the exam. THREE HUNDRED AND FIFTEEN! Now, when I was working, that would have been no big deal. In fact, I got the best lens money could buy. But now...I am a Social Security survivor who needs lots of money thanks to MS. "Cheap" is my middle name. No complaints, I had my day in the money sun. Never took it for granted. I am now in the, "I'll look for a lower price," game.

Lenscrafters fit the bill, $125 for a full exam. It is nearby, at the mall. I'd call a cab. My private caregiver said she could make the date. It was ON!

First I had to get past the taxi dispatchers. I am NOT a crier. I am NOT a "moody" woman. But, I almost gave up and cried after talking to one very rude dispatcher. She needed the address, she couldn't fine the address (my pressing that it was THE MALL, made no difference), she couldn't find the phone number, I was wrong, she was right, period. "Give me the name of a business next to it."

"I haven't been to the mall in a decade. I have no idea." I felt defeated and angry at myself for feeling that way. Dealing with call center people was my forte! Buck up, Diane!

I called back, got another nasty dispatcher, asked to speak to a supervisor---I pulled myself together and made it to the Lenscrafters (When I phoned Lenscrafters for info to give the taxi co., I was told that taxis drop people off every day and I was just being jerked around. Hearing that comforted me, my God, am I becoming needy? Ugh.) although I was ten minutes late, but the employees there were so nice about it.

The first difficult part was getting close enough to the glaucoma testing machine. My caregiver had to hold me up AND push my head into the machine. She is truly remarkable.

Then she had to transfer me into the exam chair in tight quarters, a chair with arms like a tyrannosaurus rex---tiny. We were both so proud that we did it, even after my foot got stuck, mid-transfer, into the wheel of my power chair!

Dr. Nevett was terrific, very thorough, and he was the first eye doctor who didn't freak out by my pale ON (optic neuritis) footprint on my eye. In fact he said my eyes were in great health. YEA! "Are you sure I don't have cataracts?"

He laughed. You see, a woman here at my retirement joint just had cataract surgery and nowadays you can get an implant that makes it so you no longer need glasses!!

"People used to beg me to wait on the surgery, now they beg me to do it right away," he chuckled as we shared our stories about the new advances.

Sooo, after less than 30 minutes and a $5 co-pay, I now have all the prescriptions I need. I'm using my own frames and in about ten days I'll be seeing again! Woo Hoo

What fun to see all my typos. the bald spot on my head (which I swear Copaxone gave me), and oh the dust in my apt.!! YEA!!!!

Disabilities, Skyscrapers, and the Courage it Takes

Heroes: People who must use wheelchairs, yet go to work every day in tall buildings.

John Abruzzo worked in One World Trade Tower, 69th floor.

Ed Beyea worked on the 27th floor and died on 9-11

The tragedy of 9-11 brought these people into our lives. Many more heroes in wheelchairs, walkers, and canes we will never know, but they wear badges of courage working in tall buildings. We all live with fears, it is how we proceed into life that allows us to live with courage.

Fear and Courage are Often Together

My Friendship Dilemma. Multitasking with Packers

Here is my dilenna: I am writing a true story about a situation that involves a person who contacted me recently for a visit. This person very much likes a person in my story who turns out to be not the hero we saw him as. I don't believe in putting MY feelings about a person onto another person. Ya know? But the basis of my story involves the great depth of villainous deception that existed and I can't pretend I don't know the truth. (The truth in HIS words via court documents. I MYSELF was fooled until I paid for the court copies.)

**For those of you wondering what I am talking about, I have written often about the book I am working on. It is about the social workplace dynamics of a sexual harassment suit at my job with the city of Seattle.**

My way of dealing with this so far has been to avoid the person, though that person was/is a friend of mine...a "C" list friend, haven't seen each other in over a decade. Now, I must explain that this person has made NO attempt to call or visit me in over a decade either, never returned my calls---I pretty much wrote the person off. Now...what do I do? This person is an innocent as far as the story, clueless about any of it. In fact, I was writing about "him" when the person called out of the blue, and brought "him" up! Coincidence? (Side note: Right after the call, I discussed it with partner then we watched Gunsmoke and its lead character had same unusual name as my friend!) (No, Diane is not stoned. Yes, this is the post.)

While I'm writing this I'm watching the Green Bay Packers beating by a touchdown, New Orleans. Maybe I multi-task too much...wait you guys have already told me that. I may have ATM syndrome. Addiction to Multitasking.

I meant to, and should be writing about my adventure going to get new glasses today!! Gawd, my sentences are horrible. The Packers won. To bed I go. Been a long day.

Obama Take us Back. Time to Get Busy.

Thursday our president gives one of the most important speeches of his life. He says he will present his plan for putting Americans back to work. Here is my three cents:

We the people need to take some responsibility for the broken country we are in. It is wrong to blame one man or 1,000---we all share the responsibility and we all need to fix our nation together.

Remember how life was after WWII? We were happy as larks. After the Cold War ended--party time! We decided to celebrate. After all, we were the greatest nation ON EARTH! So, we stopped saving and investing. It was time to spend, buy houses, and if we were short on cash, CHARGE IT! Education? High school "was good enough for MY old man..." and in fact good paying jobs for those without a college degree or special training were plentiful. All those bridges, roads, train tracks that we built are in a disastrous state---put people to work fixing out infrastructure. That is our foundation.

Then the Baby Boomers started wanting. Their parents gave all they had. An entire generation was hanging out drinking Coke Cola's and smoking cigs, driving zooped-up cars and finding ways to make money that often had nothing to do with hard work. Technology was running the show, jobs that fed the Boomers were disappearing, and we all just watched.

Man on the moon? Cure for Polio? A computer in every home? Am I the only one who feels we are drowning in cell phones and iPads? Can't we think bigger? The telephone was huge in its day, as was television. Vaccines were flying out of mankind's brains. "Giant Leap" for us, really? Or the beginning of the end?

Educate and train our population to keep up and surpass current technology. Tax the wealthiest more--DO IT. Get motivated to advance your well-being. Demand quality food, air, and water. If that means big corporations will lose some money, tough tooties! Our nation will save in health care costs. Rebuild America one brick at a time. Bring home our troops. Secure Social Security and Medicare, now and into the future. Legalize marijuana, prostitution, and tax those babies. Legalize gay marriage in every state---add up all that money spent on weddings, all the jobs.

I'll stop. Over 3 cents. But Mr. President, MOTIVATE us tomorrow to recapture our power as a people who can conquer our problems whether from floods, terrorists, loss of jobs, WE want to be that great nation our forefathers and grandparents died for.

Blogger's Block: Who Stole My Ideas?

Maybe writing on three books at once is not the best idea. Maybe joining Face Book was a dud of a deal, but now a book is coming out of it, so how can I leave? Maybe I need to retire from leading meetings, like the council one at my retirement joint. Perhaps I shouldn't be reading two books and several magazines/newsletters at a time, plus blogs galore. Perhaps I need to go off grid for the rest of the year. Nancy Grace is on Dancing with the Stars, a program I have seen once, but now for some strange reason am looking forward to it. Could be I need to stop working on my financial ledger EVERY DAY. I just am sick of writing about me, MS, my family, this joint, celebrities--BORING.

Will my finger wear out? If it DOES, how will I press the button to turn on my fan? Going up to 90' this week. Really, after reading SO MANY ideas on Face Book, there is little new under the sun. YaaaaWWWnnn, excuse me. I think I'll take a nap now.

Chaz Bono, Venus Williams, Sjogren's in Your Face!

Well this has been an interesting week. Two major invisible facts of many people's lives are coming to a TV screen near you--in that big celebrity way only a celebrity can. Who brought AIDS into American households? Rock Hudson. Every difference, every misunderstood aspect of the human condition needs a celebrity to really shine a spotlight of awareness on it.

Transgenders everywhere will be standing a bit taller when Chaz Bono, Cher's son, dances with the stars. (The star here is actually Cher, and all eyes will watch for a glimpse of her, but the gay community will watch for a glimpse of freedom.)

Those sufferers of Sjogren's, like my partner, will cheer that people the world over will BELIEVE their physical problems are NOT in their head. PLUS, people may even learn to pronounce it!

Yes, it has been a good day for celebrity awareness and acceptance, or at least another step in the right direction. To transgenders and Sjogren's sufferers everywhere---party tonight!