THE PRICE OF WHAT SOME CALL LIBERTY

THE PRICE OF WHAT SOME CALL LIBERTY BY MATTHEW LUCAS BECKETT Nick was never the same after that day. It was a summer drive, through a safe area, no steep mountain passes, no cliffs, no slippery ice. But his big brother Theodore just took the turn too fast,the car rolled several times, and ended up with Nick on his head with his right leg broken and twisted. Of course, Theodore died, so he obviously got the worst of it. But Nick's brain damage left him with permanent, mental disabilities as well as very bad balance, and his leg was never entirely right again either, even though after a year or so he did start walking again. When he first began to communicate again, it seemed only three things of the old Nick had survived; he still knew and loved his family, although this did take a bit of remembering, and with a bit more remembering he still considered me his best friend, and he still loved Football. He'd always been more interested in events in the News than most kids at our High School, I must admit including me, and with a bit of time that also returned. So, when The Case arguing that The Americans With Disabilities Act should not apply to State and Locally owned Public Buildings came before The Supreme Court, as he now was an American With a Disability, he took particular interest in the case. I can not here repeat the words he used to describe those who argued the case in favor of States Rights and Personal Liberty trumping the liberty of people like him who had disabilities and those who ruled in their favor when the ruling came down, but suffice it to say that from the look in his eyes, had he had the power to call down lightning and strike all of them dead..well, let's just say that it is fortunate for them that he did not have that power. Of course, not much changed at first. No one went out and actively destroyed ramps, handicapped parking spaces and the like, they just weren't kept up and repairs weren't made when they fell into disrepair, and eventually many such accommodations at State and Locally owned Public Buildings, including our school, were gone. Which brings us to the present moment, when the substance of this story really begins. At school the first day when the ramp was gone, Nick fell twice going up the stairs, but eventually made it. “Of course, falling or not, at least I can do the stairs,” he said. “What are people like Oliver supposed to do?” Oliver was another friend of ours, and since he had been born with no legs, he of course had to be in a wheelchair. Fortunately, though, he had some very strong boys as friends, and they happily carried him up the stairs, since neither Nick nor I had the strength to do so. “That's all right, Lisa,” he told me later. “I know you would if you could. Tell Nick the same.” That afternoon at the end of the school day, though, my lunchtime conversation with Oliver was driven right out of my mind when Principal Stevens came on The P.A. with an announcement. “As you all know, Friday is our Field Trip to The Cowboys Stadium. Anyone wishing to go MUST TURN IN THEIR PERMISSION SLIP NO LATER THAN TOMORROW. Have a good afternoon.” I knew Nick wanted to go, but his parents were concerned because as a locally owned public building its handicapped accommodations were no longer present, and they worried that he could get hurt in his enthusiasm to see every inch of the stadium. Oliver, of course, was under no illusions. “It's all stairs now,” he said. “I couldn't even get in the front door, and I'm not going to ask Sam and Tom to carry me up and down every inch of the place, since it is all up and down.” I suspected that he was probably right. I'd never been there, but if it was anything like our High School's Stadium, which I assumed it was, he was definitely right. Since Nick had had to be picked up three times that day alone after falling on the stairs, I doubted his parents would sign the form either. But I was wrong. The next day at school, first thing he went by The Office and handed it in, then gave me sly grin as I went to hand mine in. I wasn't quite the fan he was, but opportunities like this don't come along every day, plus I wanted at least one person there whom I could count on to look out for him. The rest of that day was a blur, since all anyone talked about was the next day's trip. The next morning, Nick fell three times just trying to board the bus, and ended up getting carried on by Sam and Tom. I took the seat next to him. “Nick,” I said. “I know you love football, but, are you sure about this? I mean, you had trouble with just that short set of steps to board the bus, and that's not even half the length of the flights at the stadium.” “I'll be careful,” he promised, as if that settled the matter. Since three seconds later the door closed and the bus began to move, in a way, I suppose, it did. I knew we were in trouble the moment we arrived. Going down the bus steps, with nothing to hold onto but my arm, Nick fell twice, the second time face first onto the parking lot pavement. But even his bleeding forehead only deterred him long enough to stop the bleeding and bandage it. “Come on, Lisa,” he urged. “Let's go inside. We will be able to touch the actual turf they play on.” At another time, his obvious enthusiasm would have been infectious, but now I followed with great trepidation. My premonition, unfortunately, was right. The way into the stadium alone, was complicated. The one time ramp, as I expected, lay in a dusty pile of rubble. But even the railing on the stairs was gone. Tom took Nick by one arm, Sam by the other, and I walked behind as back up, not that there was much I could really have done if there had been a problem. But between the three of u we did manage to help Nick get into the stadium all right. Once inside, though, I saw that there was no possible way that Nick could achieve his dream of actually touching the astroturf. There was not only no ramp or lift of any kind from the bottom of the stands to the field, there was not even a proper staircase, just a ladder. “How are disabled students supposed to get down there?” Nick asked, pointing. Our guide looked him over. Just to look at, if you hadn't seen him walk or had a long conversation with him,you wouldn't know that Nick in fact was a disabled student. “They're not,” the man finally said, still looking a bit puzzled. “The Supreme Court said locally owned buildings like this are not subject to The A.D.A., so we spent the money we once spent keeping up such facilities in better ways.” Then he began the talk and the tour. We started at the top and worked our way down, Tom, Sam and I staying close enough to Nick to catch him when he stumbled, as he did often, although at his insistence the other boys no longer had him by both arms. Finally, we reached the bottom of the stadium, and all that remained was to go down onto the field itself. I saw the ruins of a ramp laying to the side, but the one person ladder was all that now remained. The four of us stopped, Sam and Tom looking awkward. “You guys go on,” I said. “I'll stay with him. I'm not that big a football fan anyway.” We weren't the only ones who weren't going down. There were a few others there with physical reasons like Nick, and many like me who had enjoyed the outing overall but were not big enough fans that they considered actually touching the turf a necessity. But I could tell that Nick was not taking this turn of events well. Our guide, I guess, sensed this as well. “If you want to go down, young man, your friend will b fine just waiting here.” Which was, of course, exactly what Nick had been waiting for and I had been fearing. Before I could act, or speak, or even think, Nick was at the edge, climbing onto the ladder. “Be very caref. . .” I started to call, when my words were cut off by a scream. I ran to the edge and looked just in time to see my best friend dangling from the ladder for a moment, then fall twenty feet, split his head open on the hard asphalt, and die before my eyes. All because somebody thought making a football stadium handicapped accessible was an infringement o n what some call liberty.