Kathy, I replied below your post.  It's a book, but I feel that you solicited
it, albeit unintentionally.  I mean no offense; I just calls 'em the way I
sees 'em.  If nothing else, it's interesting stuff (to me anyway).

In a message dated 11/22/2001 6:17:49 AM Eastern Standard Time,
[log in to unmask] writes:

> Well, you did come on a bit strong, sure, but I understand why, really I do.
>  It's just that I feel such anger when not dealt with, can erupt in
>  unexpected ways, and it's not right.   I get angry myself at times and I
try
>  to take a deep breath and let it go.  Healthier, too.
>
>  People are people, and I'm not going to change anything by getting angry at
>  them; it's better to lead than to force.  I teach diversity classes at
work,
>  and I've had many employees come up to me afterwards and tell me how much
>  insight I've given them on disabled people in the workplace.  It's as if
>  light bulbs go off in their heads and they go "duh!"  Same thing at the
>  synagogue and elsewhere.  If someone's obstinate, I just let it go; he or
>  she is not going change in one day and if I'm not that change agent, then
>  maybe someone else will be. We gotta remember, too, that everyone gets
older
>  and more like us at some point as our bodies wear out... and then they,
too,
>  realise what's really going on.  It's karma.  What goes 'round comes
'round.
>
>          Kathy

Kathy,

I needed to chew on this for a while, and I'll be darned if it wasn't a good
excercise.  Check it out...

Today was a very special day, in fact, the most special day of my entire
life, not just because it was Thanksgiving.  Details will not follow; there
will be no film at eleven.  I didn't want to devote too much attention to
anything like composing this post on such a special day.

When I did, however, my knee-jerk reaction was negative.

Now, I'm ready to come clean.  This ain't no gimp-lite post though; you on
that, girlfriend?  It's long too, but I'm sharing the biggest parts of my
life.  I don't just do that frivously.  There is one hellova lesson here, for
anyone who wants it, or needs it.

While you're reading all of this, please place in your heart the knowledge
that I am for you.  Disability awareness is my life's mission.  I only live
in a different part of the world, Kathy.  We're not reading the same book,
and just on a different page.  We are on the same page of two different
books, skillfully and beautifully written about the same subject.

I'm kind of hoping that this addresses your concerns about my ability to be
diplomatic.  If not, tuff titties ;-)

Am I, or could I, go off the deep end from getting too close to disability
rights for too long periods of time?  Well, sure!  I'm a human being,
girlfriend.  I have gone off on this list more than once, haven't I?  You'll
see more about that later.  Trust me, this is good stuff.

One of my few true heroes in this world is a fire captain -- now chief --
under  whom I was assigned, and of whom I felt great fear.  In order to
protect his anonymity, we'll call him "Special K." Let's just say that my
fear was due to his "strong personality" (us elephants, we never forget --
ha.  That's between the two of us and I ainta gonna explain it), and my need
for significant improvement in the self-confidence area.

Special K knows I gots anger...I kicked over a filing cabinet and put my fist
through a wall.  They won't bother me about it though; I know they all lied
on their 171s ;-)  The wall was slated for demo anyway.

I've said all this before, so I'll summerize here (not for the benefit of
bandwidth though. Screw the bandwidth):

You do great work where you are, plus, you have a family.  I could not do
what you do.  I am not called to do that, however.  I am in another place,
and firmly planted.  I go where little kids see me and slide in a choice one
such as: Man, that chick is wack, but da wheels phat."

Whaddya do girlfriend?  Times up!  The kids are gone.

You "eff" up on the fireground That night, someone who scares the hell out of
you anyway, says "If I had been there, I would have shoved a smooth bore
nozzle up your a**."

The usual compliment in that firehouse at the time was "How ya doin' ya
alligator face looking bi*ch?"  Guys addressed each other that way.  Life was
good.  Are you wit dis?

I was a firefighter in a redneck firehouse in the middle of the part of DC
that tour busses tend to by pass.  I speak Bubbabonics.  I am rare, and
baby...I am there.

You have to teach two occupational safety and health classes to a varied
audience, from the Navy captain to the Plumbers helper.  Those classes are
Lockout/Tagout, and Reproductive Hazards...in that order.  The class is after
lunch.  You've gotta keep em awake, and you've gotta tell them personal
stuff.  You've gotta talk about spermatogenesis and you have to explain it
good.  I owned 'em baby.  When I wanted to, I owned em.

One day, in the alarm room of the firehouse, my shift is gathered together
for our Assistant Chief to deliver a message.  At that time, we didn't have
dispatchers.  We all took turns being assigned that watch, and that was our
topic of discussion on this occasion.  It ain't no slack fire department
thing either; you can roll that up and smoke it, if you are so inclined.
Anyway, the chief said this: "Well, there is one firefighter here who has
done a fantastic job with dispatching, and is a natural (I'm paraphrasing,
it's been a while).  I think we all know who that is."

I pondered for a second. I had no idea of who he was talking about.  I didn't
think I had been that unobservant.  I remember thinking that thought.

"It's Betty," he said.

If I'd had false teeth, they would have been on the floor. This man was my
fire department idol at the time.  Now, don't go there -- it's nothing sexual
-- this was pure admiration for this man's skills, knowledge, and abilities.

Can you imagine what that did for me?  I cannot describe the duties I have
undertaken when acting as dispatcher.  Actually, I legally cannot, but I wish
I could.  There are things nobody knows that I will have forever.

This, however, is part of my makeup.  I can tell you now that I have acquired
PTSD.  Here's a news flash, though: Every firefighter has it.  If he says
otherwise, he just got off the boat yesterday.  The poor bastard is still
looking for the water hammer.
(Boyfriend know what I'm talkin' about).

Kathy, you do something every day of your life that I cannot do.  Your
parenting skills appear to be outstanding.  I admit that I don't have those
skills.  It's too close, and I'm too wack.

Even so Kathy, I am a kid magnet.  They love me.  I take them seriously, and
that's why.  I'm talking about kids who are from the inner city Kathy.  I've
gotta have my finger on the pulse of where these kids are coming from.  They
deserve that level of attention.

I'm currently mentoring a three year old girl who is living in a homeless
shelter with her Mother.  Her anger is phenomenal.  When a child brought his
hamster to school, this little girl -- with her sweet little cherub face --
raised her little fist and said "I'll kill you!"  That comment was directed
toward the hamster, as I understand. She also displays this anger toward
other children.

Well, guess what?  Disability rights issues goes to hell in a hurry when I'm
with her.  No offense, but when I'm in the company of this child, disability
rights is solely your gig.  My priorities are intact, don't you think?

And yes, I do take care of myself.  I'm 43 and I get a hormone hung up every
now and then. I know I can be a raving shrew, so I stay away from people for
their protection.  During these times, I take long, hot, baths, and remind
myself that life is too short to fight this.  I take it all in.  I accept
it's power.  Then it has no power.  I can get rid of many headaches that way
too.  Not all the time...how I wish, though.

If I had to for my own protection, I would kill a man.  Then -- as I watched
the life run out of him -- I would ask my Father for his forgiveness for us
both.  I would baptize him in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy
Ghost.  That's my drill, and I make no apologies for mentioning it.
Moreover, I have done it for other dying men.  Read on...if you dare.

During the time that I was a firefighter, two men died in my arms.  One was a
vehicular mishap victim; the other a self-inflicted gunshot wound.  The
latter kept repeating, "I don't want to die!  I don't want to die!"

I wish I could tell you details about two teenage suicides: one attempt and
one consummated.

I can tell you though, that I successfully separated my family issues from
suicides and deaths around which I hung as a firefighter.  I'm fixin' to tell
you about that.  I have a lot of stuff behind me girlfriend, can't you see?

"Can't you seeeeeeeeee ('sing it with me now')
That when I tell you that I love you, oh....
You're gonna say you love me tooooooo... ohhh"

Oh oh,  Sorry...flashback.  Ya gotta love 'em.

My secret?  When I think about it, I let it take over, I don't fight it.
That's where the trouble begins.  I look at what comes into my mind and I
don't fight it.  I accept it and it kind of works out...the pain subsides.
Then I own it. Then I can use it...we on the same sheet of music here?  I
also know that doesn't mean I won't have to do it again.  I just work with
it.  I don't take phone calls at that time either.  Call me right now and see
the message you get.

I sound like Miss Cleo, don't I?  "Call me now!"  "Don't make me take you to
church, young mon!"

You know girlfriend, my sister offed herself when I was fifteen (fourteen?)
At the age of 23, and married with a year and a half old son, she died on
Good Friday.  We buried her, I think, the following Monday.  My Mother didn't
want to go to the funeral.  She was understandably shaken.  This fifteen (or
fourteen) year old child told her Mom, "Mom, I know you don't want to go now,
but if you don't you may later regret it.  I don't know that this is the
case, but please think about going, okay?  It will be like honoring Becky"  I
don't know the exact blasted words I used, but that's pretty much what I
said.

She went.  We went.

There's more (if I can handle it, you can).  My Father was in John's Hopkins
at the time, having emergency surgery to repair an aortal aneurysm.  In two
months, he would reach is 73rd birthday.  My Mother, my poor dear Mother,
withheld the knowledge of my sister's untimely demise for two weeks.  I was
charged with that same duty.  He made it to his birthday -- that old codger
who's memory I will always revere -- bless his Celtic heart, and he waited
until the day that he loved the most: Christmas.  The night he died, I read
scripture verses to him, encouraged to do so by my older niece, Kathy (long
story about the older niece thing -- for another time).  She and her husband
had to go, and she handed me the bible and showed me where to continue
reading.  My father was completely at peace, as was I.  After the funeral,
that night, I went to a Job's Daughter/Demolay dance specifically to
celebrate my Dad's life, with people who were not dragging their faces.  A
girlfriend's boyfriend took me, and with her expressed blessing.

I have always been blessed with the right friends at the right time.  Those
are the riches we acquire, if only we can see.  Those are the memories I can
use to build myself up, and make myself strong.

My Dad had a great life, and he lived it on his own terms.  I could, and
probably should, write a book about him.

Nevertheless, back to Special K.  One night in the firehouse, we had a long
talk.  He said something that hit me like it could never have hit before.  He
told me that if I didn't respect myself, I had no justification to expect it
from others.

He was the toughest Captain I had ever had, hands down.  He scared the hell
out of me, but I went to work, you know?  I'd walk into the day room, and see
his adorable head (which I can say now), and my blood pressure shot sky high.
 There were times when I actually felt a flush.  I was really scared.

But listen up now, I went to work.  Get it?  I stayed.  Okay, I had a nervous
breakdown (actually way after I had been transferred to another shift), and
was Jell-O for four months, but I went back.  You still wid dis?

A few years later, I left on my own terms.  I was a fire inspector and
respected by my peers and Chief (immediate Chief, that is).  There I found my
niche in teaching.  There I found my natural abilities with children. Perhaps
it's because I'll get out of my wheelchair and sit on the floor and color.  I
moved to occupational safety and health; it was a promotion.  As I said, I
left on my own terms.

You know what Special K taught me?  Those hard lessons?  Watch this: I go to
my interview for the Fire Inspector's position.  It's an oral test/interview
thing with several Fire Chiefs.  They ask me ten questions, mostly about the
Fire Codes.  I would have aced it but for one question.  Who cares; I blew
them off the planet.  The next day, I think it was, one of the fire
inspectors, who should have had no knowledge of the results of these
interviews, said to me (in front of other fire inspectors), "I heard that you
blew the other candidates away in the interview."  You'd think I'd be
impressed to be noticed, huh?

I replied (a little strongly), "How the hell did you get that information?"
You think that didn't throw him off balance?

Shoot girl, I got my thang covered.  Can't you see that?

And...now that I look back, or in retrospect -- whichever you prefer -- I can
clearly see that those hard lessons, delivered with a more firmer hand than
you can possibly imagine, saved my life.  Listen, do you think he would have
treated me that way if he thought I were unable to work it out?

We all must pass on (she said, euphemistically), and it's just a question of
when.  My Mom died on my birthday last year.  We are genetically predisposed
to upstage important holidays.  I will pass away on St. Patrick's Day, if my
Father in Heaven will allow it.  Not this one, though, I hope.

My desire is to live a long and happy life, as I am living now.  My gut tells
me that this will not be the case.  There is too much pain, all kinds.  It
will take it's toll.  It has taken its toll.  That's my business though.  I
gotta do what I gotta do, you know?  I'm at peace in this regard, have no
fear.

Kathy, I don't take this anger to the streets.  There are people on this list
who have been oppressed all their lives.  I'll tell you what though: I'm not
going to treat people with kid gloves.  Why would I treat people who are
already oppressed like crap?  Everybody else has.

Special K helped me find this.  Every minute means something.  I don't want
anyone to treat me like I can't take the truth, and I will say what I think
as well.

Look at all the things I have written on the list!  Look at the many things I
have written on tell-us-your-story.com.  Do a website search for "Betty
Alfred," without the quotes.  I spent -- literally -- my last farthing (4k)
on my organization, Wings in Flight, with no help from the physically close
disability community.  I have kept good records of my correspondence.  I was
not in the inner circle Kathy.  I got the "not invented here" crap.  Come on,
I was born at night, but not last night.

Like this battle for justice can withstand that garbage.  We are the most
detested minority on the planet Kathy.  It's not that we have the ADA, it's
that we need it.

I did get support from Internet DR relationships though, I have not
forgotten.

I take my thing to the streets all the time Kathy; I try never to miss an
opportunity.  I have spent the last five years working out a master plan to
disseminate information that most nondisabled people wouldn't hear otherwise.
 They have to know all to understand.  Right now -- on this mark of modern
history's timeline -- there is a combination of societal events that have
unfortunate potential, if we are not careful and attentive.  I have preached
this and preached this.

And I know how to work a crowd.  That doesn't mean I want to manipulate their
hearts.  As a human, I am prone to err (big time, in fact), thus, I am
frequently compelled to examine my heart to make sure that my value system is
in good order. To the best of my knowledge, it is as good as it can be at
this time.  I am, nevertheless, teachable.

I love everyone Kathy, and I always have to make sure that my knowledge of
that factors in whenever I deliver a disability rights message.

I'll tell you something else too...it ain't no thing.

The last time I talked with special K, he gave me permission to tell him a
disability awareness story.  Understand now, this guy is still my mentor even
though he may not know it.  For him to listen to me is a great honor.
Suffice it to say that I would back this guy up on a handline all the way to
hell, if only I could.

The point is that he listened.  He heard, and digested.

Girlfriend, don't worry about me.  I'm wrapped around this thing.  Believe
me, I've got the high ground, because it's mine for the taking.

It's anyone's for the taking, and that's what I want to say, just in case
there is someone on this list who was never taught that...just in case
someone needs to hear that no matter how much they have experienced in the
past, they can use that to cultivate their power now.

Betty

P.S. I spent it all on this post. I won't be able to type for a few
days...maybe years.  Time for that voice recognition thingamabob.  I don't
give an anus rodentum though; because -- by George -- it was worth it.  I
know what you said about pacing myself, Deri, but I had to do this.

BTW...If something should ever happen to me, can somebody move this around so
people will remember what I was about?  You don't have to use my name, as
long as the message is there.  Straight up though?  I ain't gonna go nowhere
just yet.  I've got more havoc to wreak.

Thanks mon.

Betty -- again