Recently, I was contacted by the wonderful people of the Reaching For the Stars Foundation and the Center for Disease Control in Atlanta and asked to come into town and say a few words. I've posted them below for you and I hope you enjoy them.
I want to thank everyone at the CDC and the Reaching for the Stars Foundation for making my trip such a success. Of special note, I want to thank Cynthia Frisina Gray for being such a wonderful host and my new friend, Michael Kutcher for being an inspiration to this old sailor. You both are amazing people - Thanks for everything!
Here is a link to the Reaching For the Stars Foundation. Check them out and help spread the word of hope for children with cerebral palsy.
http://www.reachingforthestars.org/What do you want to be when you grow up?
That question has been posed to kids as long as there have been family reunions, pesky relatives, and wedding receptions. I remember being asked that question and after careful consideration, proclaimed “I’m gonna be a baseball player.” The next week it was a policeman like my father and the week after that, a movie star.
When I was 11 years old, my oldest brother, Michael came home on leave after completing Navy boot camp. I remember his short hair, shiny black shoes, and the way his dog tags jingled around his neck. He looked and acted so different from the person who had left three months prior that it made a big impression on me. I silently told myself that if I ever had the opportunity to join the Navy that is what I really wanted to do. I would run home from school, grab a snack, go up to my bedroom and, thanks to the writings of Michener, Wolk, and Steinbeck, be instantly transported to exotic places like Hawaii, Hong Kong, or Egypt. I would dream of one day leaving my middle-class existence and walking the streets of those cities as a United States Sailor.
When it came to serving my country, dreaming was as far as I thought it would go. You see, I was born with cerebral palsy. I couldn’t walk on my own until age four, was partially paralyzed on the right side of my body, and my left foot is two and a half sizes smaller than the other. I wore thick glasses, walked with a limp and was so skinny that my clothes literally hung from my body like a dried-up scarecrow. I was laughed at, bullied by most everyone and struggled to find my place in the world.
Any success I’ve had in my life is due to the way I was raised by my parents, Edgar and Shirley. One of eight kids (in a one bathroom home) the fact that I had cerebral palsy was really no big deal in our house. Yes, I had to go through grueling physical therapy twice a week, wear eye patches and “special” orthopedic shoes, but my CP was not the focal point of the Quinn household. I don’t ever remember it being discussed at the family dinner table. I was just one of eight kids, and that’s the way I liked it. My parents told me that I could do just about anything that I put my mind to and let me go out and find my own way in the world. From trying to ice skate, sled down the appropriately named Dead Man’s Hill to joining the wrestling team, I would try something, fall, and try again. When I tumbled, they didn’t automatically come rushing over to pick me up. They knew that as someone born with cerebral palsy, life was going to be tougher for me and wanted to see if I would rise on my own. I remember one wrestling match in high school where my opponent threw me with such force that I landed off the mat, my head striking the hard gym floor. Mom, who was in the bleachers, came down and asked my coach one question “Is there any blood?” “No, Mrs. Quinn, Johnny just got knocked out. He’ll come to in a second.” “Okay,” said my mother, as she made her way back up into the stands. Find a way to get up on your own, son.
When I told my mom and dad of my life-long dream of joining the Navy, they patted me on the back and wished me luck. I’m not sure, but I think they had their fingers crossed behind their backs.
Well, I failed the entrance physical needed to join the military. I fell over when ordered to get down in a catcher's squat. I was too weak to hold up my own body weight and was told the Navy couldn't use someone like me.
Arriving home in shame, I told Dad that I couldn't pass the physical because it was too hard. My father looked me square in the eye and said, "John, life is hard. Question is, what are you going to do about it?"
The next day found me down in the basement struggling to get into that catcher's squat. I worked out every day for a year in that musty cellar, and then tried to join the Navy again. I passed this time with flying colors. I think I was the best duck-walker in the entire building.
So for the next 20 years, I served in the United States Navy sailing around the world on aircraft carriers, battleships, and destroyers. No one knew about my disability. I stood every watch, took the toughest assignments and lived the life of a sailor at sea. I am occasionally asked, “Why did you keep your CP a secret for so long? Were you embarrassed by the fact that you have cerebral palsy?” No, I am not embarrassed by my CP. I kept it a secret from Navy officials so that I could have the same opportunity as everyone else. I wanted that level playing field, to be judged on my ability, not my disability. I didn’t want to be known as “that sailor with cerebral palsy.” I just wanted to be the best sailor that I could be. Come to find out, I had the ability to be a very good sailor, rising to the rank of Senior Chief Petty Officer, the second highest enlisted rank one can achieve. Some who have served with me have called me the finest sailor they have ever met. I take great pride in this and am honored to have had the opportunity to serve my country.
Shortly after I retired from the Navy, and living back in my hometown, I received a call from my best friend, Phil Freeman. Phil is the principal of Pioneer Middle School in Plymouth, Michigan and requested my assistance with a young boy named Trevor, who would be attending the sixth grade. Phil had shared some of my story with Trevor’s family and they wanted to meet me. Would I be interested? You bet! So, on the morning of sixth grade orientation, I was introduced to Trevor and his entire family, including his grandparents. I believe it’s the first time that they had ever met an adult with the same handicap as their boy, someone who had overcome the odds to lead a successful, happy life. We recognized our common symptoms from across the room. My experiences helped educate the family and made me realize that I had an obligation to help others by sharing my story.
That is exactly what is happening. The comments that I’ve received since Someone Like Me has been released are remarkable and I find that I’m the one being inspired by my readers. For example, a woman from Colorado writes:
“…so much of what you describe both physically and emotionally I have been thru or felt. Thank you for telling my story…”
A father of a young boy with CP writes from Missouri:
“Just finished Someone Like Me. To say your story is inspirational would be an understatement. This book is for everyone who ever thought or said the words "I can't..." It also helps fill the long ignored information void regarding living with cerebral palsy as an adult.”
Another reader sent in this note:
“Thank you for writing your book. By sharing your amazing story, I now have hope for my son, who just turned two and has been diagnosed with cerebral palsy. Can you sign a book for him? I plan to put it way and then hand it to him when he is old enough. It’s so nice to know there are successful people living their life with CP…”
I’ve even received comments from readers as far away as India, Greece and this note from a mom living in England:
“Dear Mr. Quinn. I want to send you a big thank you for writing this book. The last line of your book states that we are never alone; that there is always hope. I plan on repeating those words to my young son whenever he feels down and out…”
You all have greatness inside you. Each and every one of you has worth. Do not let your disability stop you from achieving the things in life that you want to do. Let’s take a closer look at that word disability. 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. Don’t call me for home improvements or car repairs, because 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. It might be hidden deep down inside you, just yearning to come out. For my disabled friends, don’t let your handicap hold you back. Don’t listen to the people that tell you it cannot be done. My parents told me that I could do anything that I put my mind to and I believe that to be true for anyone, regardless of obstacles faced. If you don’t push yourself to find your ability, who will? Franklin Delano Roosevelt suffered with polio and became President of the United States. Albert Einstein didn’t talk until the age of three. 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.”
Have you always wanted to paint but thought it was a waste of time? Perhaps you've felt a strong desire to get up on stage in your community theater but were ridiculed when you shared your dream out loud? I have been laughed at. Most people thought it was nuts for a guy with cerebral palsy to even dream of joining the Navy. When I decided I wanted to write my memoir, some scoffed. “You’ve never written anything before. What makes you think you can write a book?” You'll learn there are people in this world that will place roadblocks in your way and smile as they do it. These folks will use words like "impossible"; "never"; or phrases like, "That's the way it's always been done around here." Whenever I encounter these people, I just smile, store their comment away and use it as fuel to achieve my goal.
I’m going to let you in on another secret. Just because you do things differently, does not mean that it’s wrong. It’s just different. Think of it as your own unique way of getting things done – your own style. When I run, I run differently. My arms don’t swing naturally and my left foot turns inward as I move forward. You can hear me coming from a mile away as my flat feet hit the pavement. But that’s just the way that I run. I cannot change my stride. It’s considered different, but I still run. You should not be embarrassed if you need to use a power chair, walker or breathing device to help you live the life you want for yourself. It’s what you have to do. Please use every resource as your disposal so that you can achieve the greatness that’s inside you. I want you to become so good at what you do that people look past your disability and see you for the wonderful person that you are.
To the doctors and therapists here today, I have a message for you as well. I cannot tell you how many parents I’ve met who, after introducing me to their son or daughter, said, “You know, the doctors stated that my little Susan would never -you can fill in the blank here – walk without assistance; speak; go to school; live a full and productive life. Parents are looking for hope and I think it’s time we give it to them. Let’s raise the bar up and tell parents, in a time when they need it most, what is possible with hard work, sacrifice, and the miracle of modern medicine. Dr. Edward Hurvitz, Departmental Chair of Physical Medicine and Rehabilitation at the University of Michigan agreed when he wrote about my book:
“...my goal has always been to open doors and increase opportunities for young people with disabilities. However, I see that I have not advised my patients to push the horizon enough. I now know that given determination, bravery and desire, much more is possible for my patients than I could imagine before. This book is a must for every physician, therapist, and other caregiver that treats individuals with cerebral palsy or any other disability. It also 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."
You want to know what I look forward to? I look forward to the day when a parent comes up to me and says, “John, the doctors told me that my daughter would one day graduate from high school, but I didn’t believe them. You know what, Mr. Quinn? I was wrong. My Kathy graduated last week!” I say the future is unwritten and last time I checked, there is no medical test that measures the depth of the human spirit. Great things are possible.
So, let me ask you again.
What do you want to be when you grow up?
Thank you all very much.
www.johnwquinn.com
