A monumental lawsuit between Northwest Airlines and five Detroit-area airline travelers with physical disabilities has brought attention to a crucial question: How does the Americans with Disabilities Act (ADA) protect air travelers with disabilities?
As the law is currently written, aircraft are excluded from the definition of “specified public transportation.” Past court cases have interpreted this to also mean that airport terminals are excluded from ADA coverage.

However, in this most recent case, U.S. District Judge George
Caram Steeh said in a 13-page opinion that this interpretation is
“inconsistent with the plain meaning of the statute.”
The Detroit-area residents filed suit against Northwest Airlines and Wayne County Airport Authority in Detroit (which was recently dropped as a defendant), claiming that the airline and airport failed to provide proper accommodations in a number of areas. Among several complaints, the plaintiffs said Northwest failed to provide boarding assistance in some cases, dropped passengers to the floor when assisting them improperly and damaged wheelchairs in the airline’s possession during flight.

Because aircraft are excluded from ADA coverage, airlines have been held to the standards of the Air Carriers Access Act (ACAA), which prohibits discrimination on the basis of disability in air travel and requires air carriers to accommodate the needs of passengers with disabilities. However, individuals are not allowed to file private claims under this law and must depend on the federal government for enforcement. Northwest argued the case should be dismissed because the ADA does not apply to airlines, and the ACAA does not allow individuals to file private claims.

Judge Steeh dismissed the plaintiffs’ claims under the ACAA, but ruled the ADA does apply to airport terminals and thus the case may continue. He said that although aircraft are covered by the ACAA, airports are covered by the ADA, which includes terminals operated by the airlines, such as Northwest Airline’s terminal at the Detroit airport. Therefore, Northwest’s terminal — and all airline terminals — must meet ADA guidelines.

“This interpretation is consistent with Congress’ intent to limit the ACAA’s reach to aircraft and the ADA’s reach to public spaces, such as terminals. In fact, to conclude otherwise would leave the door open for acts of discrimination that could not be remedied,” Judge Steeh said in his opinion. In the ADA language, “public accommodation” is defined to include entities affecting commerce such as “a terminal, depot, or other station used for specified public transportation.” And according to Judge Steeh, the Northwest Airlines terminal at the Detroit airport is considered a public accommodation, as it’s used for “bus, rail and other motorized transport along with its principal function as a center for transportation by aircraft.”

Peter Berg, project coordinator of technical assistance at Great Lakes ADA, said the ADA applies to airport facilities, which includes anything from the front door to the jet way. The ACAA requires airlines to assist travelers with disabilities, such as helping someone in a wheelchair board the plane safely and guiding someone who is visually impaired from the ticket counter
onto the airplane. These services are not limited to the airplanes
themselves, according to Berg; airlines are responsible for providing these services in the airport terminals. Thus, as they operate within their terminals, airlines are subject to the standards set forth by the ADA.

In an article in “The Detroit News,” Kristin Baur, a spokesperson for
Northwest, said the airline “is currently reviewing the ruling and evaluating its options regarding future actions.” Baur also said the airline continues to be committed to providing accessible air travel for all customers.

Visit the Federal Aviation Administration’s Web site at www.faa.gov to learn more about traveling rights for passengers

NEW YORK — Children with chronic illnesses or disability can often benefit from the right exercise program, showing improved quality of life, greater aerobic capacity and better function, according to a report published this month.

But chronically ill or disabled children and teens who aren’t active can get out of shape and too fat, just like their peers who aren’t challenged by illness or disability, warns Dr. Patrick J. Morris of the University of Minnesota in Minneapolis.

Morris notes that children with cerebral palsy often have movement problems that make it difficult to walk, let alone exercise. But he points to a study in seven teens with the disease that showed three months of training improved their aerobic capacity and their ability to stand, walk, jump and run.

Physical activity is also beneficial to individuals with spinal cord injuries, Morris adds. And while the jury is still out on whether exercise can help people with cystic fibrosis get stronger and breathe more easily, he notes, the studies to date show no evidence that physical activity is harmful for these patients.

Even children with the bleeding disease hemophilia can engage in physical activity, according to Morris, if they choose a sport that’s appropriate for their fitness and coordination level.

Aerobic workouts can clearly help children with asthma get stronger and more fit, although the evidence is not as clear on whether training affects symptoms like breathlessness or the amount of medication a patient needs.

Exercise is also crucial for helping children with type 2 diabetes manage their illness, according to Morris, but a study out last year showed that adolescents found the hardest thing about following an exercise program was “lack of motivation.”

Just because exercise can benefit young people with disease “doesn’t mean it’s easier to get these kids to sign on to physical activity,” Morris concedes. To help motivate them, he suggests emphasizing “fun approaches with variety and freedom that are supported by peers, that have the option of family participation, and that foster success.”

Morris points to the offerings of Courage St. Croix, a rehab and resource center for disabled individuals near his home, as examples of activities that fit the bill: “power wheelchair soccer, hockey, softball or rugby; …handcycling, SCUBA, rock climbing, kayaking, downhill skiing, water skiing, golf, archery, and bicycling; … and yoga, tai chi and horseback riding.”

“Physical activity,” he concludes, “is a positive intervention for children growing up with the challenge of a chronic disease or disability. When physical activity becomes a lifestyle for these children, they’re supported on their way to becoming happier, healthier adults who are up to any challenge.”

By Hailee Lampert/WLKY

WLKY.com

LOUISVILLE, Ky. - A house fire took the life of a Louisville woman

Family members said the woman was wheelchair-bound.

Mary Ann Riordan, 66, was pronounced dead at the scene.

The autopsy results report Riordan died from smoke and flame inhalation.

Fire Chief Greg Frederick said the victim’s husband was taken to the hospital and suffered non-life-threatening injuries.

“I heard this yelling and it didn’t sound right, so I looked out my window, and that’s when I seen the flames,” said neighbor Kim Arthur.

No one else was at home when the fire broke out.

“I tried to console him,” Arthur said. “He wanted to go back in the house. I couldn’t let him do that.”

The arson unit is investigating the cause of the blaze.

“The potential is there that we possibly have smoking with home oxygen in use,” said Frederick.

The campaign advertisements are gone, phone lines are no longer buzzing with endorsement calls and political debating has ceased. Many of us did our part to vote and participate in the election process. But, our work isn’t done.

With Barack Obama in the White House planning his next four years in office and countless legislators ready for action, now is the time to get

acquainted with your elected officials. Building personal relationships is key to influencing legislators and other officials who can impact the disability community with their public policy decisions.

It’s important to connect with not only new officials, but also with those who have been reelected. Reach out to your elected officials to introduce yourself and congratulate them on their win. Ask if they can meet with you to discuss issues affecting you and the disability community.

Or, send them a letter or e-mail to share issues of concern.

To learn more about Barack Obama, visit www.barackobama.com.

PART 1 OF 3

Story and photos by Andy Olsen - Special to the Herald-Leader

PORT-AU-PRINCE, HAITI — Rebecca Haake walked into the room of the boy who would change her life and was almost knocked over by the smell of urine, the shouts of children and the tug of tiny hands clutching at her skirt.  She glanced at Kerwin and the others, faces fixed in perpetual smiles or stares, disabled bodies unwelcome anywhere in their country except the dimly lit orphanage.

Andy Olsen Mike, Rebecca and Kerwin became a family as they waited out the tedious adoption process in Haiti in the summer of 2007. Their early days together required big adjustments for all three, as the adults confronted the alarming culture of poverty that the child accepted as home.

The 5-year-old with crooked legs was deaf and had cerebral palsy. He slept in one of the wooden cribs lining the walls — just another sad story in an unending chain of tragedies she was seeing on her first visit to Haiti in April 2006.  Rebecca had no idea that the boy would someday be her son.  She could not have known that her journey to motherhood was beginning at that moment, at the start of a trip she had taken with friends who were volunteering to help in the poorest country in the Western Hemisphere.  Rebecca, then 25, and her husband, Mike, 26, of Nicholasville, had dreamed of adopting a child. But they could not have foreseen the 18 months of their lives the quest would demand, the savings it would devour, or the infinite patience required to wait for paperwork to circle its way through the offices of one of the world’s most corrupt and unstable governments.  Foreign adoptions are fraught with complications, and the vagaries of adopting from Haiti are notorious among those who have tried.  It would be the most difficult journey of their lives.

The first step: approval

Mike and Rebecca met as students at the University of Kentucky in 2000. Mike was a quiet, lanky math student. Rebecca was a tall blonde who had played basketball in college and could talk a blue streak.  They were married in the spring of 2002, and by the spring of 2006, Mike had settled into a job teaching math at Lexington Christian Academy and coaching girls’ softball. Rebecca was a speech therapist.  Rebecca had worked with children in foster care and the couple was talking about fostering to adopt. An international adoption, however, was as foreign a concept as Haiti — until Rebecca went there.  She spent very little time with Kerwin during her first visit to Northwest Haiti Christian Mission, the Frankfort-based organization that ran the orphanage. (The mission is a non-profit supported by churches and individuals.) She has only a few pictures — of him tossing a ball in his wheelchair, of him trying on her sunglasses and laughing.  When Rebecca flew back to her tidy, white two-story house in Nicholasville, “I immediately knew that I was going to come back,” she said.

A few weeks after her trip, Rebecca could not get Kerwin out of her head. Once she even woke up in the middle of the night, thinking maybe God was preparing her to be Kerwin’s mom.  Despite his deafness and crippled legs, he was strikingly intelligent and engaged. He was smart and knew some sign language.  What if the only thing holding him back was living in a crowded orphanage in Haiti? What if his legs could be fixed and he could learn to walk? What if he could hear a little and learn to talk?  Rebecca knew all too well that the mission had a policy of not allowing its orphans to be adopted. But she was preparing her arguments.  Mike warmed slowly to the idea. He trusted Rebecca’s judgment when it came to disabled children.  They pieced together a small packet making their case and mailed it to the mission’s campus director, Jody Castillo, a straight-talking missionary who navigates Haiti’s chaos with a hot-pink laptop and matching iPhone.

The mission’s response came on a Saturday afternoon about two weeks later, in a brief e-mail from Castillo. Mike called Rebecca’s cell phone and read it aloud: “The good news is, we’ve approved you to adopt. Still a lot for you to do.”  Rebecca was pressing the phone to her ear and crying, standing next to shelves of women’s underwear in the middle of Wal-Mart.

Piles of paperwork

The next few months were a whirlwind of paperwork and visits to drab government offices. Preparing the stack of documents necessary to begin the adoption process became a part-time job for Rebecca.  A manila folder as thick as a man’s wrist, the dossier contained notarized evidence that they were healthy, honest, tax-paying, income-earning homeowners with a clean record and a dog that didn’t bite.  Every document was signed by the Secretary of State’s office for the benefit of American bureaucrats and translated into French for their Haitian counterparts.  And “there’s a story for everything,” Rebecca said.  Like the weekend they drove more than 1,600 miles through the night from Lexington, to South Carolina, to Chicago and back to visit a Haitian consulate and ship documents overnight to beat a filing deadline that turned out not to exist.

They took a quick trip to Haiti in October of 2006. It was Mike’s first visit to the country and his first time meeting Kerwin. Their enthusiasm was dulled by a sense that perhaps they were in over their heads — Rebecca was crying and fighting doubts, and Mike was simply overwhelmed.  “It felt like the right thing to do,” Mike said. “But it was hard to know until you actually saw him.”  They spent a week with Kerwin and left determined that the next time they saw him would be to bring him home.  The Haakes enlisted the assistance of an adoption agent in Haiti, an American named Barbara Walker, who gave them a to-do list and promised to facilitate everything with the Haitian government.  All foreign adoptions require both U.S. and foreign government approval. The Haakes decided to go it alone in America, hiring an attorney, but otherwise handling paperwork on their own. Their humor took on a touch of cynicism. “How could you write down what you’re supposed to do for a Haitian adoption?” Rebecca said. “It changes every five days.”  It can also drag on. The adoption process in Haiti frequently lasts more than two years. In China, it can typically take two and a half years; and in Ethiopia, from six months to two years, according to State Department figures. In general, special-needs children take less time to adopt than healthy babies.  What was most unusual about Kerwin’s adoption, however, was Mike and Rebecca’s resolve to see it through in person. Parents adopting from Haiti seldom travel to the country to pick up their child until the process is complete, if they go there at all.

In the summer of 2007, the Haakes went to Haiti to stay with Kerwin, with no plans other than to sit and wait for his paperwork to go through. Rebecca took off from work indefinitely and Mike was on summer vacation.

On June 4, they stared out the windows of a twin-engine plane as it descended on a short gravel airstrip in the remote region of Haiti that is home to the mission and the orphanage.  Six miles away, a boy with crooked legs was waiting, a boy they were already calling their son.  ‘A limp little guy’  There is nothing documenting how Kerwin (then named Kewins Esperance) arrived at the mission in the summer of 2003. But the consensus is the 2-year-old was as good as dead the day he came through the gates in his aunt’s arms. He weighed eight pounds.  Community members say his aunt found him alone in a dark room at his family’s home, a bare two-room apartment downtown in the small coastal city of Saint-Louis du Nord. He was sick and malnourished, his skin covered in open sores and his hair graying.  The story was that Kerwin’s parents had left town and gone south to the capital, Port-au-Prince, a two-day round trip. His birth parents are reluctant to talk about the details, but do not deny them. A striking young couple with no work in a country with few opportunities, they only said they had nothing to offer a handicapped boy.

“He was very sick,” said his mother, Eveline Esperance, who was 24 when she had Kerwin. “It’s difficult for kids like that to go to school. Even impossible.”  In fact, it is rare for any disabled child to live long in a country where healthy people can barely feed themselves and where at least one child in most families dies before kindergarten.  A few blocks from Eveline’s apartment, a mother trying to raise her 10-year-old autistic son would leave him naked and chained to the front door to keep him from running off.  “In Haiti, no one knows how to take care of special-needs children. What you do is you let them die,” said Janeil Owen, the mission’s executive director.  A few lucky ones make it into orphanages like the mission’s, where the children get wheelchairs and physical therapy.

Kerwin’s aunt carried him up a hill to the mission that overlooks Saint-Louis du Nord. The mission is a walled compound with schools, food programs and a clinic, where Kerwin had been born two years earlier.  “He looked like he could die any second,” said Becca Jump, a missionary from Lexington who was there when Kerwin arrived. “He was just a limp little guy.”  Castillo, the campus director, accepted him into the special-needs orphanage. He was so unsightly the Haitian staff members were afraid to touch him, suspicious he was cursed by voodoo. “We thought we were going to have to bury him,” said Tarzie Time, the director of the orphanage staff.

The orphanage attached to the mission is the Miriam Center, named after the daughter of a donor who funded it. But Heaven’s Waiting Room is the melancholy nickname by which it is also known. It houses about a dozen children, most with a form of cerebral palsy or autism. Haitian women mother them during the day and sleep next to them at night.  For weeks, Kerwin lay alone in a crib, quiet and unresponsive amid a swirl of spastic and shouting children. Visiting Americans took turns rocking him, forcing him to eat and rubbing lotion on his broken skin. In a month he had gained a little weight. He smiled for the first time, and his skin healed.

By the time the Haakes arrived four years later to wait out his adoption, in the summer of 2007, Kerwin was the darling of the orphanage. When the ladies needed help folding clothes, cleaning the bathroom or drying off one of the other children after a bath, they called on him.  His legs were turned inward, a condition known technically as spastic diplegia. He could not walk without clinging to something. And he was deaf, or at least extremely hard of hearing.  But unlike the other children in the orphanage, who could not feed themselves or do much without help, Kerwin was as intelligent and self-sufficient as one could expect a 6-year-old to be. “Kerwin was everybody’s friend,” said Time.

When the mission granted Mike and Rebecca’s request to adopt Kerwin, it ripped the social fabric of the little orphanage.  The day Castillo made the announcement, the workers cried. They never fully made peace with the idea until the day Mike and Rebecca arrived at the mission that summer to claim their new son.

When Rebecca walked through the orphanage door that day, Kerwin was ecstatic. As they headed out together, Kerwin recognized Mike coming toward him from photographs; he fumbled toward him and grabbed him.  It was a joyful beginning to what would be the longest months of their lives.  Cookies made of dirt

The early days with Kerwin were colored by the euphoria of finally being united, an emotion that overshadowed irritations like waking up in sweat-soaked sheets and falling asleep with mosquitoes buzzing.  They passed the time playing board games and baseball and watching Toy Story over and over on a laptop. They worked on sign language.  Once a week, Eveline came to watch Mike and Rebecca play with Kerwin. She spoke no English and they spoke no Creole. She would sit quietly, sizing them up, she later said. Mostly she was happy for Kerwin — she cried when she told the mission she would relinquish her parental rights.  “Tears of joy,” Castillo said.

The Haakes and Kerwin slept in a small room tucked into a corner of the mission compound. At bedtime, they signed through a picture book Rebecca and her sister had drawn to explain where Kerwin was going after he left Haiti. Kerwin learned to pray with his hands, thanking God for mom and dad and asking for help to get them home soon. But by the end of June, the excitement was fading.  Walker, their adoption liaison, was out of the country for medical reasons until July, and their paperwork stalled. Mike battled a fever one night.  Rebecca was coping with a skin infection that covered her hands in sores so painful she cried.  And Kerwin was testing their authority, crying over little things like not being allowed to wear someone else’s hat.  “We both have kind of hit a wall and feel like we’re ready to be back in America, which will not happen any time soon,” Rebecca wrote in a blog for family and friends.

There were bright spots, to be sure, things that mothers cherish, such as a first haircut and a first encounter with bath toys, which Kerwin thought he was supposed to wash.  But the Haakes were starting to raise a child against a backdrop of poverty so cruel that hungry women and children eat cookies made of dirt because they are cheaper than rice. Few things bothered Rebecca more than Kerwin’s habit of playing with trash and rocks, putting them in his mouth like a Haitian child on the street. She scolded him for it often.  It was an early victory when she spotted Kerwin playing with a dirty napkin and gave him a dirty look. He stopped cold and signed the word trash to her.  “It still doesn’t keep him from examining the trash before he throws it away,” she said.

The next step: consent

The Haakes stayed at the mission for a month, leaving the day before Independence Day.  They had an appointment with the U.S. Citizenship and Immigration Service office in Port-au-Prince. It was a critical interview with Kerwin’s birth parents to confirm their willingness to give up their son. Without that consent, there could be no adoption.

The Haakes woke up before dawn and rode to the local airport, then flew with Kerwin’s birth parents to Port-au-Prince. There, they stayed in a hotel where they had air conditioning for the first time in ages. On Independence Day, they swam in the hotel’s pool. Their spirits were lifting already. “I feel like just being here we are going to accomplish more,” Rebecca said. Yet there was the lingering fear that something could go wrong. The next morning at the immigration office, they stared at the tile and waited for their appointment, where the birth parents showed no sign of fighting to stop the adoption.Only time and a handful of signatures now stood between them and bringing home their son. They swam in the hotel pool again that evening, wondering if they might even be home soon.

But this was Haiti, and it was not so simple.

ABOUT HAITI
■ Haiti is about the size of Maryland.
■ It is the poorest country in the Western Hemisphere, with about 54 percent of its 9 million people living in abject poverty. 
■ The infant mortality rate is 62 deaths out of every 1,000 live births. For Kentucky, that rate is 6.4 per 1,000.

Posted: Jan 9, 2009 06:02 PM

Updated: Jan 9, 2009 06:11 PM

Problems at CAP delay energy assistance

By Connie Leonard 
Posted by Charles Gazaway 

LOUISVILLE, KY (WAVE) - More and more people are having trouble paying their heating bills this winter. But a telephone and computer meltdown this week at the Community Action Partnership caused a lot of long waits and confusion.

The goal of the Community Action Partnership, or CAP, is to help people who are having the problems paying their heating bills. Unfortunately when the local office tried to make the process more convenient for people, it actually ended up being much more difficult to get through. Since Monday, wheelchair bound Rick Green has been trying to get through to CAP to get federal help with his heating bill. 

“I just get on my phone and redial and it calls and it ends and it redials,” said Green.

After hours of being put on hold, Green said got cut off. So Thursday, he went to CAP’s Dixie Highway location to try and get an appointment in person. Green says he was told by a security officer he had to leave because he didn’t have an appointment. 

“One lady in there I know, she’s always helped me, and the officer is like ‘No, you can’t,’” Green said as he described of the incident. 

Green was far from alone. At CAP’s location at the Urban Government Center on Barret Avenue, the biggest gripe in the long line is the high cost of LG&E bills.

“My bill was $360 for this month and last month it was $400 and I’ve been struggling to pay it, cause I haven’t been working cause I’ve been in and out of the hospital,” said Toyres Woods.

To add insult to injury? Like Green, when many of the people in line tried to get heat assistance it was a wait on the phone and in person. 

“They’re having technical difficulties so it’s really frustrating and a hardship on customers especially when you get a bill for one month for $325,” said Anita Stringer.

CAP officials say their intentions were good. They were trying to allow people to call to make an appointment for assistance instead of having to come in twice. CAP Executive Director Mary Elizabeth Miles said of the phone problems, “What we discovered was, that phone system having that many callers call in at one time, just couldn’t handle the loads.” 

CAP officials say thousands of people tried call the number at the same time with only about 10 employees there to take the information. The phone lines jammed and the computer system went down. CAP is now allowing people to come down to the Urban Government Center at 810 Barrett Avenue for help.

Officials tell WAVE 3 the lines are getting shorter, plus their computer and phone system is back up. If you would rather use the phone line, they are asking people to be patient. The number to call is 574-HEAT (574-4328). You can call between 8:30 a.m. and 1 p.m. Monday through Friday. Be sure you have pen and paper ready when you call along with your LG&E account number.

Friday - December 12, 2008

Kentucky vs. Pittsburgh  54-22

Michigan vs. Ohio II  1-0

Texas vs.Indy 44-41

Saturday - December 13, 2008

Minnesota vs. Kentucky  38-50 

Indy vs. Ohio II  50-32

Kentucky vs. Blitz 50-29

Texas vs. Ohio II 55-26

Michigan vs. Indy  64-35

Ohio Blitz vs, Ohio II45-25

Indy vs. Pittsburgh 1-0

Kentucky vs. Texas  46-31

Sunday - December 14, 2008

Ohio II vs. Pittsburgh  60-32

Indy vs. Ohio Blitz  40-37

Michigan vs. Kentucky  48-51

FINAL STANDINGS

1. Kentucky 

2. Michigan

3. Minnesota

4. Pasadena Texas

5. Indy

6. Ohio Blitz

Ohio II

Pittsburgh

Five months ago today, I came home from work with our eight-month-old Annie to find my healthy 32-year-old husband crawling around our home. So we left Annie with a friend and headed to the ER and within hours Russell was completely paralyzed below the waist. No bladder function, no moving of the toes…NOTHING! And yet no one could tell us why this was happening. Today we stand firm as a family on the why, this was just part of God’s plan for us.

In just five months, Russell has gone from complete paralysis, to independence in a wheelchair, to master of the loft strand crutches, to the distinguished gentleman with canes. And thanks to many prayers and the healing power of God, Russell is now navigating the world with no assisted devises, just his two strong legs.

What seemed like an overwhelming situation on August 4 was just the beginning of God’s larger, more important plan for us. The transition back to Kentucky for rehab was seamless. Frazier Rehab Institute (Frazier) had an opening for Russell as an inpatient which would guarantee him a spot in their cutting-edge Spinal Cord Medicine Program. My mother and stepfather drove one car behind us the entire way home with our suitcases, Russell’s wheelchair and our eldest daughter, Reagan (a 60-pound weimaraner). My father opened his home (and gave up his master bedroom) for us until we could move our things from DC. Then a friend happened to have a vacant home in Louisville which he offered us to live in for free. Our friends and colleagues packed our home in DC and my brother drove the 26-foot UHaul with all our belongings back to the bluegrass. And in November Russell’s employer granted a permanent hardship transfer to KY, while continually paying his salary through the volunteer leave program so his focus could be a full recovery.

Now I love planning, organizing and logistics, but there is no way I could have pulled off this one by myself! We have been blessed by the generosity of our family and dear friends. But not every family that has been affected by a spinal cord injury is as fortunate as ours, especially when it comes to getting into Spinal Cord Medicine Program at Frazier. Frazier has a lengthy waiting list of folks who are not currently able to access the technology, cutting-edge research, and incredible personnel to which Russell attributes his own recovery.

Early on, I told you to get ready that we were going to give back in a big way and you are cordially invited to participate.

With the vision and event planning expertise of our friend Emily Holubowich, the Red Carpet & Bluegrass Benefit was born. This event will put Frazier one step closer to expanding their facility and cutting down the long waiting list. Together we can give other patients, like Russell, access to the miracles being made at Frazier. I encourage you to visit the the Red Carpet & Bluegrass Benefit website (http://www.redcarpetbluegrass.com/) where you can buy tickets, become a sponor or make a charitable donation if you are unable to attend.

If you are interested in becoming an event sponsor or have additional questions about the event please contact:

Emily Holubowich

Benefit Chair

Phone: 202.557.9084

E-mail: emilyhevents@gmail.com

Web site: http://www.redcarpetbluegrass.com/

Blog: http://redcarpetbluegrass.blogspot.com/

So break out your tux or formal gown and join us and let’s give someone else a Frazier fairytale ending!

By Lori Lyle     

Posted by Charles Gazaway 

LOUISVILLE, KY (WAVE) - Last year, the average American household spent nearly $200 on toys. Unfortunately, parents of disabled children may find their toy picks a bit limited. But as health and medical reporter Lori Lyle tells us, there is a nationwide service that makes custom toy adaptations for special needs kids.

Two-year old Max Malec was born with Spina Bifida, but that doesn’t stop him from playing.

“We wanted max to be as normal as another child, so he doesn’t feel left out. And having an older brother to try to keep up with, Max is on the go,” said Mike Malec, Max’s father.

When Max was unable to use his new tricycle with hand pedals, the family found help from the Toy Adaptation Network. Amy Frantz, an occupational therapist, works with technicians to find ways to custom-adapt toys, like Max’s bike.

“So when they brought it in, you know, it wasn’t really complex adaptations, but it was enough to enable this little boy to use it successfully, and they were excited. The little boy was so excited,” said Frantz.

For Max, they added trunk support straps, blocks to help his feet reach the pedals and Velcro closures to secure his feet.

The Toy Adaptation Network center offers toy adaptations year round. The average turnaround time is one to two days, and it’s all free.

“I think it’s very important because you know, most people take play for granted. And when a child cannot play, developmentally, they’re gonna be behind. Because that’s how you learn, through play,” Frantz said.

“The bike or tricycle has made a big improvement in Max’s life, because he can now interact with his brother and enjoy being a child, playing, doing the play things that kids do,” says Mike.

Now, Max can take off and big brother Mickey is racing to keep up with him.

Toy adaptations can range from adding suction cups to hold a toy in place to replacing tiny switches or enlarging and extending knobs and levers. There are several rehabilitation centers around the country that offer the service. For more information, call 888-FIX-A-TOY (888-349-2869).

Fast facts:

• Last year, the average household spent $191 dollars for toys.

• Toys are an important part of playtime activities and play a role in learning and social development.

• The Toy Adaptation Network custom-modifies toys, free-of-charge, for special needs children.

For general information about toy adaptations:

• Alliance for Technology Access

• Disability Resource Directory

• The Family Center on Technology and Disability

• Toy Adaptation Network or call 888-FIX-A-TOY (888-349-2869)

• The Toy Industry Foundation has put together a guide with some suggested toys for children with special needs. You can find the booklet by clicking on the highlighted link: The Toy Industry Foundation booklet

For information on developmental disabilities:

• Centers for Disease Control and Prevention

National Dissemination Center for Children with Disabilities