The word "Retard"

Posted by a fellow parent of a special needs child on Faith's MySpace
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Below is a copy of the transcript of the speech given by Soeren
Palumbo regarding the use of the word retard. I found it at
http://www.ncpad.org/yourwrites/fact_sheet.php?sheet=514


'Retard' Speech Made by High School Senior
(Though our Community Voice column typically involves anecdotes about the effectiveness of exercise or physical activity for people with disabilities, this month we decided to feature an essay by Soeren Palumbo which has been highlighted on national organization websites, including the The Arc of Illinois. Soeren is a senior honors student and big brother to Olivia, who has an intellectual disability. During Illinois Writer's Week last month, Soeren gave the following speech to a gymnasium full of his high school peers and faculty at Fremd High School, Palatine, IL, and received a standing ovation.)

"I want to tell you a quick story before I start. I was walking through hallways, not minding my own business, listening to the conversations around me. As I passed the front door on my way to my English classroom, I heard the dialogue between two friends nearby. For reasons of privacy, I would rather not give away their race or gender. So the one girl leans to the other, pointing to the back of a young man washing the glass panes of the front door, and says, 'Oh my gaw! I think it is so cute that our school brings in the black kids
from around the district to wash our windows!' The other girl looked up, widened her slanted Asian eyes and called to the window washer, easily loud enough for him to hear, 'Hey, Negro! You missed a spot!' The young man did not turn around. The first girl smiled a bland smile that all white girls- hell, all white people- have and walked on. A group of Mexicans stood by and laughed that high pitch laugh that all of them have.

"So now it's your turn. What do you think the black window washer did? What would you do in that situation? Do you think he turned and calmly explained the fallacies of racism and showed the girls the error of their way? That's the one thing that makes racism, or any discrimination, less powerful in my mind. No matter how biased or bigoted a comment or action may be, the guy can turn around and explain why racism is wrong and, if worst comes to worst, punch 'em in the face.

"Discrimination against those who can defend themselves, obviously, cannot survive. What would be far worse is if we discriminated against those who cannot defend themselves. What then, could be worse than racism? Look around you and thank God that we don't live in a world that discriminates and despises those who cannot defend themselves. Thank God that every one of us in this room, in this school hates racism and sexism and, by that logic, discrimination in general. Thank God that every one in this institution is dedicated to the ideal of mutual respect and love for our fellow human beings. Then pinch yourself for living in a dream. Then pinch the hypocrites sitting next to you. Then pinch the hypocrite that is you. Pinch yourself once for each time you have looked at one of your fellow human beings with a mental handicap and laughed. Pinch yourself for each and every time you denounced discrimination, only to turn and hate those around you without the ability to defend themselves, the ONLY ones around you without the ability to defend themselves. Pinch yourself for each time you have called someone else a "retard".

"If you have been wondering about my opening story, I'll tell you that it didn't happen, not as I described it. Can you guess what I changed? No, it wasn't the hate focused on one person, and no, it wasn't the slanted Asian eyes or cookie-cutter features white people have or that shrill Hispanic hyena laugh (yeah, it hurts when people make assumptions about your person and use them against you, doesn't it?).

"The girl didn't say "hey, Negro." There was no black person. It was a
mentally handicapped boy washing the windows. It was "Hey retard." I removed the word "retard". I removed the word that destroys the dignity
of our most innocent. I removed the single most hateful word in the
entire English language. I don't understand why we use the word; I don't think I ever will (understand). In such an era of political correctness, why
is it that "retard" is still ok? Why do we allow it? Why don't we stop using the word? Maybe students can't handle stopping -I hope that offends you students, it was meant to; but ,I don't think the adults, here can (handle stopping) either. Students, look at your teacher, look at every member of this faculty. I am willing to bet that every one of them would throw a fit if they heard the word "faggot" or "nigger" - hell, (even) the word "Negro" - used in their classroom. But how many of them would raise a finger against the word retard? How many of them have? Teachers, feel free to raise your hand or call attention to yourself through some other means, if you have. That's what I thought. Clearly, this obviously isn't a problem contained (only) within our age group.

"So why am I doing this? Why do I risk being misunderstood and
resented by this school's student body and staff? Because I know how much you can learn from people, all people, even- no, not even, especially- the mentally handicapped. I know this because every morning I wake up and I come downstairs and I sit across from my sister, quietly eating her Cheerio's. And as I sit down, she sets her spoon down on the table and she looks at me, her strawberry blonde hair hanging over her freckled face almost completely hiding the question-mark-shaped scar above her ear from her brain surgery two Christmases ago. She looks at me and she smiles. She has a beautiful smile; it lights up her face. Her two front teeth are faintly stained from the years of intense epilepsy medication, but I don't notice that anymore. I lean over to her and say, "Good morning, Olivia." She stares at me for a moment and says quickly, "Good morning, Soeren," and goes back to her Cheerio's. I sit there for a minute, thinking about what to say. "What are you going to do at school today, Olivia?" She looks up again. "Gonna see Mista Bee!" she replies loudly, hugging herself slightly and looking up. Mr. B. is her gym teacher and perhaps her favorite man, outside of our family, on the entire planet; and Olivia is thoroughly convinced that she will be having gym class every day of the week. I like to view it as wishful thinking. She finishes her cheerio's and grabs her favorite blue backpack and waits for her bus driver, Miss Debbie, who, like clockwork, arrives at our house at exactly 7'o'clock each morning. She gives me a quick hug goodbye and runs excitedly to the bus, ecstatic for another day of school. I watch the bus disappear around the turn and I can't help but remember the jokes..... The short bus..... The retard rocket. No matter what she does, no matter how much she loves those around her, she will always be the butt of some immature kid's joke. She will always be the butt of some mature kid's joke. She will always be the butt of some "adult"'s joke.

"By no fault of her own, she will spend her entire life being stared at and judged. Despite the fact that she will never hate, never judge, never make fun of, never hurt (others), she will never be accepted.
That's why I'm doing this. I'm doing this because I don't think you understand how much you hurt others when you hate. And maybe you don't realize that you hate. But that's what it is; your pre-emptive dismissal of them, your dehumanization of them, your mockery of them, it's nothing but another form of hate. It's more hateful than racism, more hateful than sexism, more hateful than anything. I'm doing this so that each and every one of you, student or teacher, thinks before the next time you use the word "retard", before the next time you shrug off someone else's use of the word "retard". Think of the people you hurt, both the mentally handicapped and those who love them. If you have to, think of my sister. Think about how she can find more happiness in the blowing of a bubble and watching it float away than most of us will (find) in our entire lives. Think about how she will always love everyone unconditionally. Think about how she will never hate. Then think about which one of you is "retarded".

"Maybe this has become more of an issue today because society is
changing, slowly, to be sure, but changing nonetheless. The mentally
handicapped aren't being locked in their family's basement anymore.
The mentally handicapped aren't rotting like criminals in institutions. Our fellow human beings are walking among us, attending school with us, entering the work force with us, asking for nothing but acceptance, giving nothing but love. As we become more accepting and less hateful, more and more handicapped individuals will finally be able to participate in the society that has shunned them for so long. You will see more of them working in places you go, at Dominicks, at Jewel, at Wal-Mart. Someday, I hope more than anything, one of these people that you see will be my sister.

"I want to leave you with one last thought. I didn't ask to have a mentally handicapped sister. She didn't choose to be mentally handicapped. But I wouldn't trade it for anything. I have learned infinitely more from her simple words and love than I have from any classroom of "higher education". I only hope that, one-day, each of you will open your hearts enough to experience true unconditional love, because that is all any of them want to give. I hope that, someday, someone will love you as much as Olivia loves me. I hope
that, someday, you will love somebody as much as I love her. I love you, Olivia."

Weekends Suck

Sunday:
I've been up since 5am (had a very bad dream... let's just say it involved my little girl and me ending up stabbing someone 3 times); didn't go to bed till 2am. Thus far the weekend has been an absolute nightmare.... and it started Friday before I even left work.

Following explains my weekend thus far.

Friday:
I had an amazing job opportunity arise for me with the FBI. I had the interview on April 4th and got an email about a week later with the word "CONGRATULATIONS" going on to say that I've been "chosen". I was absolutely STOKED, to say the least. All I could think in the back of my mind is that "it's finally happening.... my husband landed this amazing job, we got a house, a new vehicle... our lives are finally coming together where we can build a future together". Friday that all came crashing down.

I'm not the type to quit a job before getting another one. The last time I did that I was out of work for an agonizing 4 months. After calls and emails to the FBI requesting elaboration on the original email sent to me and getting no response, I decided to pick up the phone to call a family friend who has worked at the FBI for 13 yrs. I read her the email and told her that I was torn because I didn't know what to do. The email indicated that it would require me to travel to Washington, D.C. the week of April 28th. I told her that I've left messages with the contact person and sent several emails to request further information and have heard nothing. I explained to her that I was in a position where I needed to decide if it would be safe to put in my 2 week notice with my current employer. She reassured me that I was a "shoe in" and told me that as long as the testing came back (background check, drug test, polygraph), there wouldn't be any reason at all that I shouldn't go ahead and put it in. I talked with my husband about it and explained to him what she told me. We decided that it would be safe to put in that 2 week notice. I mean I have nothing to keep me from passing all the testing required; and I sure didn't want to go to my present employer to request time off to travel to Washington, D.C. to test for another job. So this past Monday, I turned in my 2 week notice which made my last day as a Paralegal on April 25th. The entire week I felt like I was floating on cloud 9.... it's the happiest I've been about things in awhile (this house has really put a lot of stress and strain for us both). In the back of my mind I'm thinking "It would still be good to speak with someone from the HR Dept". So I sent another email and decided to just call her up. I, of course, had to leave a message. Amazingly she did return my phone call Friday afternoon while I was at work, which started my horrible weekend. She advised me that I was chosen as an "alternate" candidate and that the position was not a "guaranteed" position. In other words, the only way MY position was guaranteed is if the "primary" candidate was unable to pass their testing. Reminder: finding this out a week after I've already put in my 2 week notice. The email I received did not, what-so-ever, indicate anything that she was telling me. Hell, I was ready to travel to Washington. She confirmed that I would still be requested to go to Washington to complete the testing, but that she felt that I should ask my current employer to disregard my 2 week notice. Oh? Ya think? I felt like a complete idiot. Now how are you supposed to go to your employer, with your tail between your legs, and say "I need to keep my job.... at least till I find out if I've got the other one". Ummm, probably not gonna sit well. My supervisor was off that day and there would be no way in hell that I could go to the attorney and tell him this. I snuck off to the back room and called her at home, explained everything to her. She asked to speak with the attorney. After she spoke with him, he called me to advise me that she was on the other line wanting to speak with me (REMINDER... I just got approved for health benefits.. haven't even used them yet... which is something they pay 100% for... which by the way, was canceled the day I turned in my notice). She told me that since the partner attorney was not in the office it would be something they would have to talk about on Monday and let me know. So I'm thinking.... GREAT... they're gonna have a pow wow mocking and laughing at me about jumping to conclusions and tell me tough shit... regardless of you trying to better yourself in life... this is your last week of employment with us. There goes my income, along with my health insurance. I'll be honest... about then is when I felt I needed that health insurance the most. Needless to say after the day, I could not wait to go to bed.

Saturday:
I wake up in a bit better spirits. As long as I don't think about the above issue. Our home is still a disaster. Still no kitchen and I fired my ex husband from doing the work since everything that he did pretty much was coming undid (yeah, I just invented that word). We've been on the hunt for contractors. So far one has came back with an offer of $6000.... JUST for the kitchen. We got in touch with another contractor. Christian man with lots of morals. Turns out that I know his family from where I used to go to church with my mom. Very nice people. He left and I must say I was a bit excited because he seemed to be very reasonable and very honest. My husband and I decided to use him. He even took it upon himself to pray with us before he left. I grew up in church; I know right from wrong and what being a Christian is all about. I wish I were a better person when it came to God and I know that I have issues that I need to work out with him. I've held a lot in and am ashamed of the way I feel. But I know Jesus and it still touches my heart in the deepest way when I feel his spirit. I want to make things right, but the past and the hurt somehow keeps that from happening. I cried. I cried hard. I cried so hard I was embarrassed. I know it's the past hurt and the current stress that has me so emotional. I hate getting this way, I hate being this way. All in all, knowing that we had a Christian contractor somehow made things look a bit better (as long as I didn't think about the FBI). So we go on about our day. I'm wiped. I mean totally wiped out. I go downstairs to put in a load of laundry, come back up and lay on the couch a bit while Faith watched Elmo. Later that evening my husband goes downstairs to get a clean pair of pants. He comes up and stops in the middle of the Living Room and gives me "the look"; no. no. NO. I HATE that look. That look of "You don't even wanna know". I say "What?" He tells me that there's 2-3 inches of standing water in the basement and all the dirty laundry I had separated is soaked. Not only that, but the water standing in the basement.... is septic water. Our main was backed up so badly that every time the toilet was flushed or water was ran.... instead of it draining, it ended up in the basement. I give up.

Sunday:
My bad dream awakens me after only 3 hours of sleep. I come down and unwind by playing a good game of "Price is Right" on the computer. Around 7, I go back upstairs to try and get a few more hours before the sound of my little girl awakens me. It's not happening. I have millions of things going through my mind. I come back down and make 2 calls to "plumbers" to see if they could possibly do a Sunday call and cringe to think of how much this will cost us. We've already put so much money into this house, not to mention the fact of loans we've gotten. If this plumber comes and is unable to fix what's wrong and tells us a new line needs run.... I'm done. I'm calling and voiding the contract. We're undoing everything that's been done and we're moving. I cannot allow our family to go through this. I'm so stressed right now and think that I have got to be somewhat of a healthy person to take this and not just kill over of a heart attack.

Next week better bring better or the next time I blog it may be from the wing of the mental hospital.

The Importance of a Bathroom!

Bathrooms are taken for granted.

With that being said, I'll explain. We moved into this house thinking that all we were gonna have to do is slap on some paint and install kitchen cabinets and flooring. We were fools. Upon tearing out the kitchen floor and pulling down the existing cabinets, we find that the upstairs bathroom has a great deal of "leakage". So down comes the ceiling in the kitchen. While the kitchen ceiling is down my husband (thank God he's got plumbing experience, and he's good.... real good) replaces the entire plumbing for the upstairs bathroom (tub, sink, toilet). Meanwhile, not only does the plumbing need replaced; we find that the waste line also needs replaced. THAT was absolutely disgusting.

So, after all the plumbing is done and we move upstairs to the actual bathroom we find that the upstairs toilet is cracked. Completely unusable (thank God we hadn't used it since we moved in). Since the toilet is one piece, it couldn't be repaired. Besides, every piece in the upstairs bathroom was purple. Light lilac, to be specific. While I love the color purple, it's not really a color I like to see as the main attraction in the master bath. Beside the fact of the bright colored toiletries, we find that they are so old that they aren't functioning as they should. So we went and picked out a new toilet, new bath and new lavatory. Now the thrown is a bright white, as it should be. The tub is huge and the lav is a pedestal sink (very nice).

The "quick" version of this story is that the flooring in the upstairs bath got pulled up as well a floating wall had to be reconstructed since the new tub is larger than the old tub. The toilet is higher than the old and since we are putting down ceramic tile on the floor the toilet had to be "raised", so it now sits on a platform. Upon our venture of installing the new tub (which I LOVE), we decided to do the same ceramic tile around the shower wall.

It's been a very frustrating process and, not to mention very costly.... but I now see it coming together. And for my husband, one who wasn't a "handyman"; he seems to be coming around to the excitement as well. He's learning new things, which he loves and I must say does an absolute gorgeous job on anything he tackles. He just stood in the living room last night, dust all over him from cutting tile, and smiled. He said he just realized today that he is working on "his" home. I've been so bummed about this entire process that I hadn't even stopped to think of it that way. Now that we both see it coming together, it's rewarding and exciting.

After the master bath is complete, it's on to the kitchen. I'm kind of sad that I'm unable to cook Easter dinner for my family, as that's something I've done since my Mom passed; but I must say that I'm EXTREMELY excited to see how the kitchen is going to turn out.

Here are some photos of the "process" of our master bath:

View of the ceiling from the kitchen.... that's right, it's the sewage pipe. Ewwww!


Bathroom "before"

Bathroom (same view) "during" .... coming along :)

Another view... my husband's idea of having the "throne" on a step up (i like it!!!)

And another

The Beginning

Well, it's finally official; we're residents of Shinnston, WV. I must say that it's been a bit more of an adventure then what I expected, but I'm hoping that in the long run it works out for the best.

I never really took the time to realize the luxuries that we have, that is... until we don't. Take for example; running water. Needless to say that while it's exciting to have the opportunity to be "homeowners", I had at least expected to have running water. Well, we DO have running water actually; the problem is that it's running EVERYWHERE. We have some water leakage in the house and while it's not major, I have to say that I cannot wait for the time that the main valve doesn't need to be shut off between uses. Not only do we have water problems, but also water problems causing our kitchen ceiling to have to be replaced. I keep thinking in my mind "It will be worth it, we WILL conquer". I still can't wait for the time to hop into the shower without having to visit the basement first. If not for point of the matter, I must say I'm not a huge fan of dark cool "underground" places. I'm just glad my husband knows plumbing, and knows it well. Hopefully this weekend all will be repaired and we will be able to regain the luxury of that sweet sound I call "running water".

We also have taken it upon ourselves to totally redo the kitchen (thanks to the skill and craftsmanship of my ex husband), I began to get excited just talking about the changes and updates. Meanwhile we are literally without a kitchen. That's right. No sink, no cabinets, and the refrigerator is sitting in the dining room.... across the room from our stove. Last night a trip to the grocery store resulted in a lot of frozen/microwavable dinners.

Tonight I went to an auction with some friends and as I was dropped off at the house, she went on and on about how cute it was and how much she liked it. I sat there in the car dreading the fact that inside there was so much to be done, however I was able to glare at the outside of the house for a moment. I like it. I like it a lot. And after discussing the updates with the ex husband and current husband (many think that sounds strange, but I'm so glad it's that way... it really is nice to get along so well), I realized that this little place has a lot of potential. It's going to take time and effort; not to mention a very generous loan from my mother-in-law (that woman should seriously have a Superman cape on), we'll get there.

So, tomorrow I'm going to contact the landlord and advise her of what we would like to have stated in the contract and then request that she try to get that drawn up within the next few weeks; before any major purchases are made. After work, it's off to Lowe's to window shop for kitchen cabinetry.

So the adventures begin....... potential is my new favorite word.

"New House" before pics

Puppy Love

Our new family addition; Pudge

When I Hurt

This time of the year is especially hard for me. Christmas since 2001 has never been the same without my Mother. It's sad too because I have my little girl to think about; but without fail the only thing I do is wait and pray for it to be over as quickly as possible. What use to be the most special time of the year has turned into the undeniably worst.

Last year it seemed to get a little easier. I have the love of my daughter and my husband, not to mention my Dad and my brother. But then once I started thinking that Christmas is a little easier, I then start to feel guilty. I don't want to enjoy Christmas. I don't want to be happy on the one day of the year my Mother loved the most.

December 24, 1969 my parents were married in my Grandparents home. December 25, 1972 my Mother gave birth to me. December 24, 1998 my little Faith Ellen was born. So, you see.... Christmas was huge for my family.... from my parents anniversary, to my birthday, to Faith Ellen's birthday.

My Mom absolutely loved this time of the year. You'd think for someone who was in the kitchen cooking from the time she woke up to almost the time she went to bed, it would get old. But not for my Mom. She sat at the kitchen table smiling, singing Christmas songs, lighting Christmas candles and making the most remarkable dinner all for her family. She loved everything about Christmas. She glowed when her little "Pretty Face" was born on Christmas Eve.

All this changed Christmas of 2002. No more smiles, no more Christmas songs at the table and no smell of Christmas candles.

So you see, even though Christmas should be the happiest time of the year; even when I think that it may get "easier"..... it's then I realize it will never be the same for me. Not without my Mom. This time of the year is when I miss her the most. If I could have one last Christmas wish ever...... it would be to be with my Mommy just one more day.