A letter to my fellow attorneys

Dear Colleague,

My name is Rafal "Ralph" Strzalkowski. If you happen to practice in Gainesville, as I do, you may recognize me from my bright yellow wheelchair in which I travel all around town. In 2013, I started a nonprofit, a 501(c)(3) charity -- Florida Disability Access and Awareness Foundation – to foster greater empathy and inclusion for people with disabilities in the community where I live and work and beyond.

This Foundation is my attempt to address problems that I could not easily overcome as an individual, even with my advanced law degrees. Every day, I encounter misunderstandings – expressed in stares, flawed assumptions, and a range of prejudices – with people who do not know me. My Foundation also draws attention to physical impediments to access for the disability community in public places. I want people to understand that the provisions of the Americans With Disabilities Act are not just technicalities, but have human stories – much like my own -- attached to them. Every day, people just like me are able to live their lives more fully as a result of the ADA, including not only due to the letter of this federal law,  but also its spirit -- to open doors, hearts and minds to those of us with disabilities.

For all of these reasons, I invite you to support our programs as we expand throughout Florida. Over the summer, we launched Wheelchaired for a Day – the Foundation’s pilot program, which allowed able-bodied people, like you, to spend twenty four hours in a wheelchair and record their experiences. Those who participated in Gainesville included attorneys and other business owners, public officials and many more. They each came back with a lot of insight, which helped me to realize that the Wheelchaired Challenge needs to continue and expand in a structured way.

To learn more, please review the local news report here, which features a personal-injury attorney, Dan Vazquez – of the firm Fine, Farkash & Parlapiano -- going about his daily duties while confined to a wheelchair.

If you would like to participate in the Wheelchaired for a Day Challenge in your community, and show your solidarity with wheelchair users where you live -- please email challenge@wheelchairedforaday.org  To make a tax-deductible donation to FDAAF, please click here

Meanwhile, please plan to join me for Wheelchairs and Cocktails fundraiser -- Wed., Nov. 18, 6 pm to 8 pm, at Rockeys Piano Bar, 112 S. Main St., Gainesville, Fla. We will be screening a short documentary about the Wheelchair Challenge and will also announce our next project, a smartphone application to detail and map accessibility problems and solutions.  RSVP

I look forward to meeting you on Nov. 18!

Kind regards,

R. Strzałkowski, Esq, LLM, JD

President, Florida Disability Access and Awareness Foundation and Attorney at Law

Member of Florida and DC Bar

E: rstrzalkowski@fdaaf.org | T: 352.262.9593 |

 REGISTRATION #: CH42912  A COPY OF THE OFFICIAL REGISTRATION AND FINANCIAL INFORMATION MAY BE OBTAINED FROM THE DIVISION OF CONSUMER SERVICES BY CALLING TOLL-FREE (800-435-7352) WITHIN THE STATE. REGISTRATION DOES NOT IMPLY ENDORSEMENT, APPROVAL, OR RECOMMENDATION BY THE STATE

Push handles

Here's a funny thing about push handles- I never wanted them on my chair. My previous one didn't have them and if I had my way- the new one wouldn't have them as well. Luckily, on the wheels I just retired last week it wasn't even an option. I've had a "lowback" while this one is a full-back. When I picked the specs eleven years ago it was intentional and I did it for a number of reasons. I was hoping having a smaller area to lean against would improve my posture, strengthen my back muscles and force me to sit up more. Unfortunately, as I learned to slide down from it it didn't quite work. I also hoped it would look more like an active, mobility device and be less "wheelchairy" as in something other people push around. Because having other people easily pushing  me was the last thing I wanted to happen. It doesn't mean that on some occasions it wouldn't be efficient if they did or that there weren't times when I actually needed help. To me, someone coming up to push me, often just doing it without asking, meant overriding my independence.  I didn't want to equip my chair with a tool giving other people this power. If the bars are just there, they look so inviting, right? On one level in interfered with my self image. To me, having a wheelchair that other people get to push is in direct conflict with the image I was trying to project. It was becoming more like one of those things with wheels you see in hospitals I've dreaded on my life. On another level I feared that if I gave others an easy option to push me, I'd rely on it way to often. Not having that to fall back on made me more driven, able and resourceful. I was also very happy with my Varilite custom upgrade back. So when my parents were picking out my new chair, this is a topic we discussed at great length, back and forth, back and forth. To her, bars serve a utilitarian purpose. If someone needs to push me, they should be there. I'm not quite sure who she imagined doing that and why. I don't think she can truly understand what it means to me and why I oppose it. I guess, what others see simply as equipment is more than that to me, and I don't even know how to explain it. My parents found a very nice, high end wheelchair, so I gave in on that point. I still wish the back was lower, you can hardly see me sitting in0 it from behind. And I wish I could take those handles off. Yes, you can fold them a bit, but I know they're there. but at least I have a white and shiny Tilite chair!

The Wheelchair in a box

I've had a surprise coming in earlier this week. A new set of wheels (and a shiny, white frame). My parents decided to upgrade my ride, stuck it a box and sent it through UPS. It took it an extra day or two to get here, because the delivery service after reading the description of "invalid carriage, not mechanically propelled", decided to clear it through the FDA. I guess a wheelchair still primarily is a medical device, rather than a sit with four wheels, used to move it around. It was quite stressful waiting for it to arrive while I was arguing a motion on a case in Palm City and working on putting together a fundraiser in November. I must say I'm really excited. It's only my second day in it, but it's clean, bright, it has that feeling of "new". It's like a toy, and at the same time it feels very stylish. I'm changing brands. This time - we went American. I'm replacing my Swiss Kuschall with a TiLite. I never thought a chair can make me feel this good and fashionable, but it did. Now I feel I need to make a little more effort dressing up just to match. But that's the thing. I always said a wheelchair can be a cool and stylish accessory. And this is mine. I've used my Kuschall for eleven years. I've been a fan of the brand for about fifteen. It's now torn, scratched, beaten down and patched up in places and it looks miserable. For the last few months I was practically sitting on the bottom frame support bar. 11 years ago Kuschall was my brand of choice, the one I requested by name as this is what I used in Poland. The City of Gainesville replaced my other one after a city bus run me over while I was crossing the street. And for the longest time I loved the look, the feel and the color as it became the symbol of my independence.

 But I've had some problems with it. It's no longer widely offered to individual customers in the United States. Finding replacement parts was always a challenge as it used its own irregular sized bolts and screws. Having things fixed was expensive and time consuming as everything had to be ordered and shipped somewhere. Rule of thumb- if you live in the United States, it might not be a bad idea to get a US build chair. It's a high end brand-  I love it. It maneuvers effortlessly, it's smooth and fast.  It will take a few days to figure out the mechanics of steering it, as the physics is a little different. It's lighter, it gives me less resistance so I need to hold it back more. Otherwise I run into things.

I only wish I've made an unboxing video. I'm proud to say I unpacked it all myself. The box looked so tiny that I thought my parents got the size wrong, how could it possibly fit? Then I had to get out of all the bubble wrap and what seemed to be sticky food wrap tied around the frame like bandages on a mummy. It has a few pockets for storage and I know it will serve me well. But  most of all, it's a new chair for a new chapter.

Same old story: Macy's broken elevator

I could probably write about things being inaccessible every day. Tales of broken elevators, of me being stuck somewhere, of people kind of caring, but not enough to do anything about it. The same angry write up every week.  But then those are the things that happen to me. They happen quite frequently. I'm sorry this blog isn't more entertaining, but that's what my life is like. I face stairs and steps, buses leave me behind, I can't get places or I get upset when someone without a special tag parks in a handicapped spot. I'm on a mission, but this mission is my life. This is my world- and I started the Florida Disability Access and Awareness Foundation to change it. While I may never accomplish this goal- I will surely try. But I have no delusions. It will always be a part of my day as I am the guinea pig, the driving force, the motivation behind it. It's a vessel, a channel, a vision and a dream. And it will never be done. And I know that it's connected to me probably much more than to any of my co-workers, who listen, who understand, who encourage, who cheer along but who never truly experience- because they don't have  a disability. For me a disability issue can creep up while I'm out shopping or out at the movies, or going home. And it always hits me directly. And emotions always run high.  Please, please, visit http://fdaaf.org to learn more about all the ways you can help.

So, what's new? Same old story. Two weeks ago I wrote about the broken lift to the cinema room on the UF Campus and I just wanted to watch a movie. Last Saturday I just wanted to get a hair cut. I'm in court on Wednesday in Palm City and I needed to look presentable. I have a person I go to every time to make me look lawyer-like. It was not supposed be a big production. I go to the local shopping center- The Oaks Mall to get a hair cut, grab some food coffee and occasionally by a T-shirt or cologne. I wasn't looking for trouble, I was just there. The bus drops you off by the entrance to Macy's. You need to take the elevator to go up the second floor to get to the mall. Last Saturday I was there to get a hair cut, but the elevator was broken. Apparently it was out of service second day in a row. My first reaction? Not this again. It wasn't that I was angry at any particular person, but I just that waste an hour and I can't get a haircut. And I have to go again. What do I do? I spoke to sales manager, I gave her my card. I told her how we want to partner with Macy's to educate them, talk to them about disability needs and the ADA. How we have an awareness program called Wheelchaired for a Day that allows the employees to experience the limited mobility perspective. We will reach out to them on Monday. And I do hope that they will reach back. Our ideas need powerful, corporate sponsors. And I hope Macy's will be on board.

But how do I get in to the Mall... Getting through any of the other stairs requires rolling uphill essentially up one floor to get to the mall entrance. The next store is Dillard's, but the road is steep, I'm out in the street navigating between cars and parking lots. I don't feel safe. I will roll back, or get hit by a car, I shouldn't be out there and no one is there to help me. Luckily, half way up they yell after me from Macy's that the elevator is now fixed. Solved. For now. Until next time.

Farewell, Professor.

Fifteen years ago I was a wide eyed law student at Warsaw University. In my third year, I've just signed up for the American Legal Center, a year long, night class for extra credit. Florida lawyers and instructors would come lecture, often a week or two at a time, to reveal a bit of this strange, new, unfamiliar legal world. It was something we craved from procedurals and crime shows, but that was real life. It seemed as if we were receiving some form of secret knowledge, although realistically we haven't really even scratched the surface, and we couldn't have with such a short program. There was something about these people, confident, engaging, with stories to tell- that resonated with my fascination with America at the time. Mike Seigel who became one of my professors at the University of Florida a few years later delivered the opening remarks. He was not talking about theories, he was speaking from experience. His tales of prosecuting organized crimes essentially blew our minds and we couldn't get enough - and a new world opened itself to us. While in the Polish law program we were used to codes and definitions- this was something that had a real life effect, that had happened, that involved real people and places - and required actual ability and skill. This was a lawyer who did what lawyers do and spoke about it. It vibrant as a film in technicolor. I think he had the most profound influence on me as later that year I went to DC to participate in the international finals of the Philip K Jessup Moot Court. It might sound like a cliche, but with something awaken in me, something pushing to... try, I enrolled in the LLM program at UF five years later. I hope he knew that. We spoke quite a few times. We reminisced. I went to him with my immigration issues, with my admission problems, just to talk. It helped to talk. I've taken about every class he offered, either as an LL. M or a JD student. He was a horrible grader, he could really make my GPA take a dive, yet I always came back for more. Because by the time he was done with you, good grades or bad, you've had a good understanding of the subject matter, you've gotten an education.


When I visited the law school  this week, I've learnt Mike Seigel succumbed to cancer. He was 55. It happened earlier in the year, I just didn't know. I stopped by the Secretaries' office to chat about who was still around, who left and who got a promotion and I was coming from a meeting with a Dean. I'm looking for jobs and I'm also trying to get the school interested in teaching disability law. I haven't really been in touch. I knew he was sick, but the last I checked he was doing better and he even went back to teaching. It was really hard to get over, maybe because of my father's recent health problems as well. He was a friend and he will be missed.
 

It's about me.

Disability might be a "private issue" as one of our Wheelchaired For A Day participants have said, but I won't stop talking about. It might not have any actual impact on a business'  bottom line to exclude wheelchair users, but I will continue to report on it. Besides, individuals with disabilities might not be a strong and attractive consumer base or a group attractive to cater to, but just give us twenty years. The disability population is growing, the nation is aging and mobility issues concern more and more families. My point has always been that people should care more. Even if it's not something that has a strong economic impact today, notice, understand, pay attention. That's why I started a nonprofit. But here's where the problem lies: What's obvious to me may not be as clear to other people. I must say that my Creative Director has struggled quite a bit to understand how our lofty ideas translate into real world programs and solutions. What is our focus? What is the one thing that we are about that best illustrates the mission. We can't keep getting pulled in five different directions at once. What is it really about and why is that important?  Why should the real world care And why I think we are best equipped to do something about it? This past week I spent on passionate debates with my Board Members with disability at its core. We were operating on a number of assumptions. We assume for example that the reason individuals with disability don't go out on their own into the world and socialize is because they don't have access, opportunities or information. I know that was true with me, but how do we know if it's not a choice for many? I could say obvious things are obvious- but I think having some solid data that looks into disability behavior can only strengthen our case. Those are some tough questions, but questions any marketer would ask me and questions I would like to have answers to. I could say - it's about me- the things I struggled with and my take on what's wrong with the world for people like me pushed FDAAF into creation- because I, because we wanted to do something about it. And then the real world kicks in. On Sunday, the Gainesville Sun published my column. I don't think I intended for it to read like a manifesto, but it could have easily be pulled out of FDAAF's mission statement. This was just about something that happened to me on a weekend. How I wanted to get somewhere and I didn't have something. "What a great illustration for your cause"- one of the emails that followed complimented and it got me to think about how all the things that we try to do at the Foundation connect and counter some of bad experiences in my life that have a disability undertones. In that sense, it's still about me, my disability and my viewpoint, because I established it to react to a host of problems I was familiar with in a way that I saw and framed the issue. I'm also currently the only person on the Board with severe mobility issues, and that does two things. It may set a direction for our vision, but also makes it difficult for others to relate to.
Read
http://www.gainesville.com/article/20151011/OPINION03/151009689/0/search  

Getting used to it

Our Wheelchaired For A Day project in August gave me a well needed fresh perspective. For the people we asked to wheel around for twenty for hours it was a new experience. Many things were upsetting, some were frustrating. Some participants felt a new type of helplessness they were never faced with before. From getting around, to people's reactions and the limitations of having two hands and four wheels they came back often inspired an amazed. As they described some of their experiences and things they struggled with, they were eager and excited. It was a revelation to them. Rolling around is hard. Outdoors is rarely flat. People can be patronizing. Bathrooms are hard to navigate. Using a wheelchair is a workout. Some places are not all that accessible. A wheelchair can have a mind of its own. I nodded and I smiled, thinking to myself- this is what I've been experiencing all my life, I hardly even notice. A week ago I was faced with a broken wheelchair lift to the auditorium on campus. And I must say, that if it wasn't for my Director of Communications Susan who started an email campaign about it on the phone I would have probably not done anything about it myself. I would have probably said, these types of things happen, what can you do- elevators break down. I would have probably made sure that the manager knew about it but then expressed my frustration and gone home. It was  simply not meant to be. The malice of inanimate objects. I'd need to find another way to entertain myself. But then I started  to realize, that somewhere in the process of becoming thick skinned and understanding I started making excuses for other people. I begun to settle. I started accepting limitations far beyond the ones that my wheelchair puts on me. Some things are not "all right" because they are simply "not OK" regardless of how new you are to the wheelchair experience. There are things that I must get angry over today, tomorrow, ten years later, although it might be more comfortable and easy to just let it slide. I know I've said before that if I got angry over every single thing that happens to be  I'd be fueled by emotion every day. Somewhere in there you need to find balance. But if I don't get upset over things that I see, who will? Where will the change come from if I choose to look the other way? And what point have I reduced myself to practically apologizing for my own existence? Letting things go, getting used to them because otherwise they would heat up goes against how I was raised and what I was taught. There are no medals for just being patient, learning to accept the status quo, biting your tongue and doing nothing. So perhaps instead of thinking "Oh, they're new to this, naive, they'd learn if they had to do it longer" I should be more like them, frustrated, taking note, seeing and thinking. In that way this experiment was a learning experience not only for them but also for me. Maybe I should get back what I have so obviously lost?