I want to personally thank you, Doctor, not only for that warm introduction, but also for the wonderful review you provided for my book. When my publisher asked me if I knew of any institution that I could contact about endorsing Someone Like Me, my first thought was of the University of Michigan. To have someone of your stature, with the fine men and women of this esteemed institution behind it, gave my memoir instant credibility and this author a shot of much needed confidence as I neared publication. Thank you very much.
It is a true honor for me to be here today. You see, I grew up a Michigan fan in a Michigan house. Some of my earliest memories center around Maize and Blue football. I remember many a Saturday afternoon in Garden City, my entire family of ten huddled around the nineteen-inch Zenith, living and dying with the heroic efforts of Leach, Lydle and Huckabee. I remember one game of the 1979 season in particular. I was upstairs in my bedroom listening to Bob Ufer call the final seconds of an epic Big Ten battle as my mom called me down for dinner. “The game’s almost over, Ma. Just a few more seconds.” There were actually six seconds left, and when Anthony Carter scored on that pass from Johnny Wangler, shedding Indiana defenders along the way, I don’t know who was more excited, me or Mr. Ufer, who was honking that crazy horn of his with everything he had.
So it was no surprise that I was in front of my set on 4 September of this year watching the Wolverine’s season opener against Connecticut. That’s when I first learned the story of Brock Mealer. As many of you know, Brock was involved in a car accident on Christmas Eve 2007 that left him paralyzed from the belly button down. Having fractured his T-12 and L-1, vertebrae, doctors told Brock and his family that he would be confined to a wheelchair for the rest of his life and that he had a 1% chance of ever walking again. Mr. Mealer is quoted in saying, “One of the most vivid memories I have is the surgeon just giving me the news that this is the best I could hope for,” he said. “They always wanted me to accept that fact.”
I want you to think about something here. Doctors actually told this man that he had a 1% chance of ever walking again. When I first heard this, I got angry. Real angry. What medical professional would ever tell a patient that they have a 1% chance of doing anything? But then I thought about it a bit, my anger subsided and a smile came to my face. 1% Perfect. It’s all you need.
I remember being angry at doctors before, specifically military doctors. It was October 1980 and, after failing the entrance physical, was just told the Navy couldn’t use someone like me. I flunked the exam because I was born with cerebral palsy and my body just wasn’t strong enough to hit the standard set by government officials. The next day found me down in the basement of my childhood home, working hard to get stronger, both physically and mentally. As I willed my body forward, one painful step at a time, a constant thought keep driving me onward, “How dare they tell me I cannot do this.” I knew I had the ability to be a good sailor. I just needed the chance to prove myself. Twenty-two years later, I retired as a Senior Chief Petty Officer of the United States Navy. Having sailed around the world on carriers and battleships, I looked out into San Diego Bay during my retirement ceremony and thought, “Not bad for a guy who was told to go home.”
I love the fact that the event we are celebrating is called Investing in Ability Week. The word disability really bothers me. Look at the word again. I am not an English major, but I know that the prefix “dis” means the absence of. So the word disability means the absence of ability. If that’s the case, then yes, I have a disability. I cannot do fractions. In fact, when it comes to anything having to do with math, I struggle mightily. When discussing home improvements or car repairs, I don’t know which end of the screwdriver to hold. Another disability.
But there are many areas of my life in which I am very capable. Some big, others small. Everyone has some ability to offer this world. You just have to find it. You might walk different, stand different or have to use a device to help you get around. Remember this – having to do things outside the scope of what’s considered “normal” does not mean that it’s wrong or unsuccessful. It’s just different. Work hard and find the way that works best for you, your own unique style. Push the bar, flex the bar! Letting others set limits for you by either their words, expectations or their attitude gives them control over your life and potential achievements. Don’t let your handicap hold you back. By using our differences as an excuse for failure, we will never be able to rise up to our own personal level of greatness that lives inside each and every one of us.
Franklin Delano Roosevelt suffered with polio and became President of the United States. Albert Einstein didn’t talk until the age of three and was severely dyslexic. The English author/poet Milton lost his sight at the age of 43 and then wrote the classic tale Paradise Lost. How about Army CAPT David Rozelle , who lost his right ankle and foot as a result of injuries he suffered when his Humvee was destroyed by an anti-tank mine during the early days of Operation Iraqi Freedom. Captain Rozelle worked hard to become qualified for a return to active duty, and did so just nine months after his traumatic injury. He became the first amputee to return to duty in a combat zone. What would the world be like if these people had given up? Can you imagine FDR saying, “I can’t do it, it’s too hard.”
The time has come to start focusing on people’s ability, not their disability. Tell patients what they can do, not what they cannot. If you set the bar of expectations low for people; they will hit it every time. Let’s give them a 99% chance of success, not 1% Let’s give people hope and show them what is possible. You put it very well, Doctor Hurvitz, in your endorsement of my memoir, when you stated, I see that I have not advised my patients to push the horizon enough. Thanks to John, I now know that given determination, bravery and desire, much more is possible for my patients than I could imagine before. John’s story is a must for every young person who ever looked at a goal and thought it was just out of reach. Perhaps he or she should look again."
When Brock led the Michigan football team out onto the field on that September morning, accompanied by his brother, he actually walked, on his own two feet. This warrior was also wearing a blue t-shirt that said simply “1%” I saw this and laughed out loud, not at Brock, but because I understood exactly what that percentage meant. As Brock approached the fabled M Go Blue Banner that all players run under and touch before each game, I noticed that the bar was raised just high enough for Brock to reach up….
And hit.
Hail to the Victors, valiant.
Thank you very much.
It is a true honor for me to be here today. You see, I grew up a Michigan fan in a Michigan house. Some of my earliest memories center around Maize and Blue football. I remember many a Saturday afternoon in Garden City, my entire family of ten huddled around the nineteen-inch Zenith, living and dying with the heroic efforts of Leach, Lydle and Huckabee. I remember one game of the 1979 season in particular. I was upstairs in my bedroom listening to Bob Ufer call the final seconds of an epic Big Ten battle as my mom called me down for dinner. “The game’s almost over, Ma. Just a few more seconds.” There were actually six seconds left, and when Anthony Carter scored on that pass from Johnny Wangler, shedding Indiana defenders along the way, I don’t know who was more excited, me or Mr. Ufer, who was honking that crazy horn of his with everything he had.
So it was no surprise that I was in front of my set on 4 September of this year watching the Wolverine’s season opener against Connecticut. That’s when I first learned the story of Brock Mealer. As many of you know, Brock was involved in a car accident on Christmas Eve 2007 that left him paralyzed from the belly button down. Having fractured his T-12 and L-1, vertebrae, doctors told Brock and his family that he would be confined to a wheelchair for the rest of his life and that he had a 1% chance of ever walking again. Mr. Mealer is quoted in saying, “One of the most vivid memories I have is the surgeon just giving me the news that this is the best I could hope for,” he said. “They always wanted me to accept that fact.”
I want you to think about something here. Doctors actually told this man that he had a 1% chance of ever walking again. When I first heard this, I got angry. Real angry. What medical professional would ever tell a patient that they have a 1% chance of doing anything? But then I thought about it a bit, my anger subsided and a smile came to my face. 1% Perfect. It’s all you need.
I remember being angry at doctors before, specifically military doctors. It was October 1980 and, after failing the entrance physical, was just told the Navy couldn’t use someone like me. I flunked the exam because I was born with cerebral palsy and my body just wasn’t strong enough to hit the standard set by government officials. The next day found me down in the basement of my childhood home, working hard to get stronger, both physically and mentally. As I willed my body forward, one painful step at a time, a constant thought keep driving me onward, “How dare they tell me I cannot do this.” I knew I had the ability to be a good sailor. I just needed the chance to prove myself. Twenty-two years later, I retired as a Senior Chief Petty Officer of the United States Navy. Having sailed around the world on carriers and battleships, I looked out into San Diego Bay during my retirement ceremony and thought, “Not bad for a guy who was told to go home.”
I love the fact that the event we are celebrating is called Investing in Ability Week. The word disability really bothers me. Look at the word again. I am not an English major, but I know that the prefix “dis” means the absence of. So the word disability means the absence of ability. If that’s the case, then yes, I have a disability. I cannot do fractions. In fact, when it comes to anything having to do with math, I struggle mightily. When discussing home improvements or car repairs, I don’t know which end of the screwdriver to hold. Another disability.
But there are many areas of my life in which I am very capable. Some big, others small. Everyone has some ability to offer this world. You just have to find it. You might walk different, stand different or have to use a device to help you get around. Remember this – having to do things outside the scope of what’s considered “normal” does not mean that it’s wrong or unsuccessful. It’s just different. Work hard and find the way that works best for you, your own unique style. Push the bar, flex the bar! Letting others set limits for you by either their words, expectations or their attitude gives them control over your life and potential achievements. Don’t let your handicap hold you back. By using our differences as an excuse for failure, we will never be able to rise up to our own personal level of greatness that lives inside each and every one of us.
Franklin Delano Roosevelt suffered with polio and became President of the United States. Albert Einstein didn’t talk until the age of three and was severely dyslexic. The English author/poet Milton lost his sight at the age of 43 and then wrote the classic tale Paradise Lost. How about Army CAPT David Rozelle , who lost his right ankle and foot as a result of injuries he suffered when his Humvee was destroyed by an anti-tank mine during the early days of Operation Iraqi Freedom. Captain Rozelle worked hard to become qualified for a return to active duty, and did so just nine months after his traumatic injury. He became the first amputee to return to duty in a combat zone. What would the world be like if these people had given up? Can you imagine FDR saying, “I can’t do it, it’s too hard.”
The time has come to start focusing on people’s ability, not their disability. Tell patients what they can do, not what they cannot. If you set the bar of expectations low for people; they will hit it every time. Let’s give them a 99% chance of success, not 1% Let’s give people hope and show them what is possible. You put it very well, Doctor Hurvitz, in your endorsement of my memoir, when you stated, I see that I have not advised my patients to push the horizon enough. Thanks to John, I now know that given determination, bravery and desire, much more is possible for my patients than I could imagine before. John’s story is a must for every young person who ever looked at a goal and thought it was just out of reach. Perhaps he or she should look again."
When Brock led the Michigan football team out onto the field on that September morning, accompanied by his brother, he actually walked, on his own two feet. This warrior was also wearing a blue t-shirt that said simply “1%” I saw this and laughed out loud, not at Brock, but because I understood exactly what that percentage meant. As Brock approached the fabled M Go Blue Banner that all players run under and touch before each game, I noticed that the bar was raised just high enough for Brock to reach up….
And hit.
Hail to the Victors, valiant.
Thank you very much.
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