Pat Taub
GUEST POST by JANET WEIL
“You’re taking your walker, right?” I kept my voice low-key, but I really wanted my 98-year-old father-in-law to use his “Cadillac” four-wheeler for our short walk. “I guess so,” Bob replied, and we set out for our lunch date, the monthly gathering of Yale alumni in Portland, Oregon.
A walker similar to the one used by the author’s father-in-law
Knowing my interest in women making history, Bob invited me to hear the first speaker of 2020, journalist Emily Harris of Reveal News. This year Yale celebrates 50 years of women undergraduates, and the local Yale Club had chosen all women speakers (also all Yale alumnae) for their 2020 programs. Bob had called ahead to make sure there was an accessible entrance and an elevator in the building, getting the passcode for the “special side door.”
Yale’s football team in 1943, the year the author’s father-in-law graduated from Yale
As we walked together on a cold, windy day, I found myself paying special attention to the curb cutouts, slowing down to Bob’s pace, and feeling proud of him for choosing to walk. At the narrow side entrance, I punched in the passcode and we found the “lift” which was a platform with no side walls, barely big enough for Bob and his walker. “You’re brave to get in there!” I said, adding, “I’ll meet you upstairs!”
The lift did not work as an elevator and I had to keep pressing the UP button to push the lift level with the floor. From there, we found a real (tiny) elevator. I get claustrophobic, so again I complimented my father-in-law for entering such an enclosed space, then raced downstairs to meet him and open the door. We checked in, and Bob parked his walker outside the meeting room.
The author and her father-in-law seated for their lunch
Settling in for a delicious lunch, at a table set with heavy silver-plated utensils and fine china, we relaxed in the elegant space. “Class of ’43?” a man to my right said to Bob, reading his name tag. “How is that possible?” By far the eldest at our table (and probably the room), Bob shared some details of being in one of the WWII graduating classes. He and I both enjoyed chatting with new people.
The author’s father-in-law chatting with a much younger alum
Emily Harris spoke mostly about “fake news” and how to trust, or not, journalistic sources. She was an interesting, down-to-earth speaker. But during the Q and A I was annoyed to see that she made no effort, despite it being a year of Yale celebrating women, to prioritize women’s questions. One male arm after another shot into the air. “Keep your hand up!” Bob encouraged me. Finally I was recognized.
Upon leaving, Bob and I were dismayed to see “OUT OF ORDER” on the elevator door. No one working at this upscale club bothered to come downstairs to see if anyone needed assistance. A woman attendee yelled out her advice: “Get two men and carry him upstairs!” I knew my proud father-in-law, who barely agrees to use a walker in public, would not go for that. Just as I was thinking, “I’ll help him on one side while he holds the rail, then go back for the walker,” a kind man exited the room and did just that, while I hoisted the walker up the steep staircase.
As we walked toward the lift, the path was mostly blocked by huge rolling carts. I imagined having to haul the walker down again, but Bob threaded his way through and crammed into the compartment. Whew!
Reflecting on our little adventure, I saw that no one working at the University Club had considered how a mobility-impaired person needed to move around the different levels and spaces. However, my consciousness was only raised because I was accompanying Bob. It made me think ahead to the time when I may need to use a walker. Maybe all of us without mobility issues should use a walker from time to time to check on “accessible” transit, sidewalks, and buildings. Are they really?
