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There are 2 messages in this issue.

Topics in this digest:

1. 'Treat us like you want to be treated'
From: "silver_orr" <silver@...>
2. Group home pioneers made state history
From: "silver_orr" <silver@...>


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Message: 1
Date: Thu, 26 Jun 2003 17:47:40 -0000
From: "silver_orr" <silver@...>
Subject: 'Treat us like you want to be treated'


BY PATRICIA MONTEMURRI
FREE PRESS STAFF WRITER

June 24, 2003

Jim McDonald can flash a sweet, scene-stealing grin, and he thrives
on compliments. He has a penchant for all things Texan and for craft-
store drawings he colors with markers held in his one good hand.

Ever since he left the Plymouth Center for Human Development, a 1,200-
person institution for people with physical and mental disabilities
that closed in 1984 after several years of litigation and court
orders, McDonald has struggled for independence and opportunity.

He has known success and heartbreak, each accomplishment and failure
magnified because no one, not even McDonald, could imagine a life
with a full range of possibilities for him.

No one could have foreseen a wheelchair-bound McDonald riding a
mechanical bull on his 21st birthday. Or holding down a job, with
paid vacations and a pension, as a greeter at a local Costco.

No one could have envisioned him experiencing the giddy joy of a
wedding as he exchanged vows with a woman he met at the Plymouth
Center and sweetly, persistently wooed.

And no one could have guessed that their happiness would end in the
despair of a failed marriage.

McDonald remembers doctors saying he wouldn't live past 30. He's 42.

Cerebral palsy damaged his body, limiting his muscle control,
rendering his left arm useless and his speech so slurred that
caretakers assumed he was mentally retarded. He's not. He surfs the
Web, composes e-mails, sets goals.

He was institutionalized from age 7 to age 19 at the now-demolished
Plymouth Center. Outrage about residents who were abused and
neglected by inadequately trained and incompetent staff members
spurred statewide reforms, beginning in the mid-1970s, for more
humane treatment of people with disabilities.

A generation ago, about 12,000 people lived in large, state-run
institutions.

But when McDonald and five other men left warehouse-type institutions
for a conventional three-bedroom house in Livonia in 1980, they were
pioneers.

Now only about 150 people with developmental disabilities are
institutionalized in Michigan, mostly at the Mt. Pleasant Regional
Hospital. About 11,000 people like McDonald now live with supervision
in group homes or have semi-independent arrangements in apartments or
houses.

On Thursday, hundreds of former Plymouth Center residents will gather
at the Laurel Manor banquet hall in Livonia to reunite and celebrate
their passages. Twenty-five years have passed since public outrage,
ignited by activist parents and Detroit Free Press articles
documenting abuse and neglect, spurred life-altering changes.

The evolution of McDonald's life and care mirrors the evolution of
Michigan's treatment of developmentallydisabled people.

Free Press photographer Patricia Beck first chronicled McDonald's
metamorphosis in 1981 when she photographed life at the home on
Grantland Street in Livonia.

McDonald now lives in a Canton Township apartment. He has one
roommate, his own bedroom and rotating caregivers.

At the Grantland home, McDonald savored his first freedoms.

But even that setting had restrictions. If he craved a beer, he had
to drink it on the sidewalk, off the property, because alcohol is
prohibited in state-licensed group homes.

"I had to go everywhere with everyone," McDonald recalls. "I couldn't
be alone if I wanted to because I shared a bedroom."

Now McDonald goes to work, shops for art supplies -- "I'm very
creative" -- and drinks a beer when he wants.

There are about 2,600 group homes in Michigan that primarily serve
developmentallydisabled people, and 689 of them are in Wayne, Oakland
and Macomb counties. Self-determination is the goal for many people
with developmental disabilities. But even with the freedom he has
now, McDonald is realistic about his chance for total independence.
He needs caregivers to help him take a bath, get in and out of bed
and drive him places, including to work. Nevertheless, his goal is to
buy a home.

Jerry Provencal was a caregiver at the Plymouth Center from 1969 to
1972 and remembers McDonald as Jimmy, a kid with "a great smile" who
made friends easily.

Provencal, now director of the Macomb Oakland Regional Center and a
national authority on self-determination, dreamed then of opening
small group homes for some residents. But even he couldn't imagine
people with McDonald's range of disabilities making it outside an
institution.

However, every time a resident moved out into a group home or smaller
setting, Provencal says, "that person taught us and gave us more
nerve."

"It gave us the courage to move people out who had even more
challenges. For this population of people, it's been an
emancipation."

McDonald remembers making good buddies during his days at the
Plymouth Center. He invites some of them over for the occasional
summer barbecue.

But he also remembers episodes of physical and emotional abuse at the
center. Braces he used to wear on his legs would be wrenched off
while the straps were still tied. His frail limbs were twisted and
squeezed.

For the most part, life was brought to him -- food was always on a
tray. Even the circus came to the center. McDonald recalls a visit by
performers on the grounds. Nobody had his own room.

"They were stuck there," Provencal says. McDonald's "life was made up
of people with disabilities and the staff who took care of people
with disabilities."

When he got married in 1996, McDonald says it was a dream come true.
He'd like another chance at the dream. Talking about his divorce
makes his eyes tear up and his shoulders slump. McDonald blames
interference from his in-laws. His ex-wife had severe disabilities
and needed help with the most basic tasks. He says every decision he
made was second-guessed.

"They tried to control me, but they couldn't," McDonald says.

McDonald has spoken in front of assemblies of those who work with
developmentally disabled people. He is considered a knowledgeable
source and go-to person on insights for humane treatment, and he gave
that perspective in talks to workers training for the field.

"Tomorrow you could be going to work and be where I am today, and
people would have to take care of you," he says he tells them. "Treat
us like you want to be treated."



Contact PATRICIA MONTEMURRI at 313-223-4538 or
montemurri@....

Copyright © 2003 Detroit Free Press Inc.




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Message: 2
Date: Thu, 26 Jun 2003 17:48:46 -0000
From: "silver_orr" <silver@...>
Subject: Group home pioneers made state history


BY PATRICIA BECK
FREE PRESS STAFF PHOTOGRAPHER

June 24, 2003


These five men joined Jim McDonald at the Grantland group home in
Livonia in 1980. Here's what happened to them over the years.

IVAN DIX

Ivan Dix lived in state institutions for 30 years before moving to
the Grantland home in Livonia in 1980. His mental abilities were
minimal, but he was known to be extraordinarily sensitive to other
people's moods and needs. He was often the first to notice that
housemates weren't feeling well, and he would call caregivers.

He had a keen sense of curiosity and loved to go to new places and
meet new people. His sister said in 1992 that she'd seen little
change in his abilities after he moved to group homes, but he seemed
happier than when he lived in an institution.

Dix lived at Grantland until 1983, then in another Livonia group home
until 1997. He returned to Grantland for a few months in 1997, then
moved to a home in Romulus, where he lived until his death in 1998 at
age 56.

JAMES HOLBROOK

James Holbrook entered a state institution at age 7. He was
developmentally disabled, deaf and partially paralyzed on his left
side. Nevertheless, he became adept at sign language and gradually
learned other skills, such as pouring coffee and making his bed. He
lived in the Grantland home from 1980 until his health faltered in
1994. He worked at a sheltered workshop before his illness. He died
in 1995 at age 38.

MARC BROWN EL

Marc Brown El is mildly mentally retarded and legally deaf. He moved
to the Grantland home after spending 15 years in various Michigan
institutions. After learning sign language, his outgoing personality
blossomed.

Now 46, he has lived since 1995 in a Melvindalehome with two other
developmentally disabled men who also are deaf. He works at the Texas
Roadhouse in Taylor, where he rolls silverware. In August, he and a
roommate and two staff members from the home plan to attend the 2003
National Black Deaf Advocates Conference in Denver.

As in 1981, Brown El still loves doing artwork. For fun, he cuts
faces and pictures out of magazines and meticulously arranges them
into collages. When he sees people he knows well, he often greets
them by caressing their faces, squeezing their hands or wrapping them
in an embrace. In 1981, Brown El shared a room with another housemate
at the Grantland home.

Today he has his own room. "He's a very friendly person, very
creative, very neat," says Mary Ann Valentine, manager of his present
home. "He likes his job and his roommates. He likes to travel. He
likes to clean up. He chooses his own style of clothing."

ERIC GUERNSEY

After 21 years in state facilities, Eric Guernsey pinpointed the
difference between them and group homes after moving to the Grantland
home in Livonia. "Everybody treats me like a man," he said in 1981.
He has cerebral palsy, spastic triplegia and limited intellectual
abilities. Now 54, he lives today in a home in Belleville with five
other developmentally disabled men. He shares a room with one of the
men. He goes weekdays to NOVA Downriver, a sheltered workshop that
teaches whatever skills he's interested in learning, including how to
use a computer. He enjoys socializing, watching television, listening
to country music, going out for concerts and ballgames, eating out
and the frequent visits and outings with his father. This summer, he
will go to St. Francis Camp near Jerome. He chooses his own
activities. "I like it here," he says. "I don't plan on retiring. I
like my workshop." Billy Mulkey, a shift supervisor at the home, says
Guernsey keeps up on current events by watching the news and loves
channel surfing. "He flies through the channels," Mulkey says.

JOE SIEFMAN

Joe Siefman, now 79, is the only one of the original six residents
still living at the Grantland home in Livonia. He moved to the home
when he was in his mid-50s after spending 22 years in institutions.
Joe, who is mentally retarded, retired from his twice-weekly paper
route in 1995. He goes out two or three times a week with a day
program for retirees and wants to go to Frankenmuth and a baseball
game. Myra Parker, an assistant manager at Grantland for 10 years,
says Joe visits often with a neighbor across the street. Another
neighbor brings him cookies. "They remember him from his paper
route," she says.

"He likes to go shopping and to the $1 store to buy glasses. He's
laid back. He's calmed down a lot." In 1981, he was subject to sudden
and frequent mood swings. Now, Parker says: "He likes to go at his
own pace. If he's going someplace out in the community, he's happy.
He likes to collect business cards. He keeps them in a scrapbook." He
also collects baseball cards. "He likes to talk about the past,"
Parker says. Siefman still tells stories about riding through Detroit
on his brother's linen truck during the '40s and '50s. He's fond of
recalling the old hotels and even remembers their delivery days.




Copyright © 2003 Detroit Free Press Inc.




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