D e s e r t E x p o s u r e
August 2009
My Walk Across Campus
When you can't walk well, going off the beaten path can turn a stroll into an ordeal.
By Elaine Carlson
One sunny day not long ago I made the decision to walk from the Global Resource Center on the WNMU campus at 12th and Kentucky Streets to the Silver City Public Library at 515 W. College Ave. (on the corner of West Street). Google Maps says that trip, walking down 12th Street to West Street, then turning and walking towards College Avenue, is 0.6 miles and should take 10 minutes. But because I am disabled from an injury I suffered in 1973, I would never be able to make such a trip in 10 minutes — and the distance would always seem to be more than six-tenths of a mile.
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A garden at WNMU, difficult to reach
for the disabled. (Photo by David A. Fryxell) |
I wear a leg brace and have an almost two-inch buildup on my left shoe to compensate for a partially paralyzed and shortened left foot. I also always use a cane, but even with the leg brace and the cane, walking is difficult.
Nonetheless, I started walking down 12th Street. When I was a half-block past Alabama Street, however, I noticed that the street narrowed and the sidewalk came to an end. My resolve faltered and I became afraid to walk on the street, so I decided to change my itinerary and to cut across the WNMU campus.
I went back to Alabama Street, where I made my way into the middle of campus. I suddenly felt a need for quiet as I came to the Alumni Garden. A small pond surrounded by stones and narrow pathways under the shade of big trees suggests this would be an ideal place to play a flute or a recorder, I think, or to read a book of poetry. Although I enjoy the beauty of the garden, I am disappointed it is so difficult to cross — it certainly is not wheelchair-accessible and I guess it would even pose a challenge to people with other disabilities.
Moving on, I realized the way out of the campus is down a steep stone staircase. It is beautiful (I can imagine a picture of it on a calendar) and obviously constructed with classic masonry techniques, but it has no handrail. I gingerly approached the top step and put out my cane to steady myself, but as I tried to go down the first step I slipped and fell. Instead of trying to get up (perhaps impossible, or at least very difficult, for me to do without the a handrail to grab onto), I decided to ease myself down while sitting. "Bottom by bottom" would be a good way to describe my descent.
When I finally got to the street I was proud of my accomplishment, but also angry about the absence of a handrail.
The rest of my walk down College Avenue to the library was anticlimactic. After I got there, though, I thought it was a bit ironic that I asked for the use of the library's handicap elevator (and their staircase does have a handrail).
About three weeks later, I decided again to walk from the Global Resource Center to the library. This time I walked all the way down 12th Street and, instead of turning at West, I went to Santa Rita Street. There I turned and headed to College, where I doubled back to West. (Google Maps gives this route the same 0.6 mile distance and 10 minutes to accomplish.) I realized I'd misjudged before when I thought the part of the road just past Alabama would be difficult to walk. It took me 27 minutes to complete the walk rather than the Google 10 minutes and it was an easy walk.
I learned that what is called Kentucky Street on the west side of campus is E Street on the east side. The walk from Kentucky to E is nothing more than a simple stroll. The walk on West Street is quite treacherous, however, although not as bad as going through the Alumni Garden. Because West has a steady slope, I proceeded slowly, and because I was going in the downhill direction, I caught myself several times before falling.
While I was walking through the Alumni Garden, I kept thinking I should tell someone my disappointment that so many steps and staircases on the WNMU campus are so difficult for the handicapped to use. I composed a letter in my mind stating that the campus needs more handrails as well as wider paths and ramps to accommodate people in wheelchairs.
Now, every time I am on campus I think I should start writing a list of all the steps that are lacking handrails. So far I have found many examples; I am tempted to say most of the steps on campus don't have handrails, but of course I don't know if that is true. For instance, behind Fleming Hall there are three stairways without handrails, and in the back of the building there is a staircase to the second floor that does not have a handrail.
After much thought, however, I've discarded the idea of sending anyone a letter. I think it is a reasonable guess that whomever I write is going to know that disabled access on the campus is not as good as it should be, but might not know how to address the problem. To tell the truth, I am reluctant to write a letter because I anticipate the response would be full agreement with everything I say — going on to add the rhetorical question of "Where is the money?" And I know that doing all the renovations I'd suggest would be expensive.
I recognize that the university has already put a lot of effort into making the campus accessible. Every time I am on the campus and get mad when I see steps without a handrail, I just have to walk a little farther and turn a corner to see a ramp leading into a building, steps with handrails, as well as handicapped parking places for cars. I have been to the Miller Library and Fleming Hall (which houses the University Museum). Both have elevators that take people to all floors, and the library has computer terminals that can be used when a person is sitting in a wheelchair.
I suspect there are very few problems with disabled access in the main areas on campus and potential problems appear only when the disabled decide to go to places that are isolated and not frequently visited. I would find it difficult to answer the argument that "The disabled can now go where most people want to go." It is just that I wish the disabled were able to go wherever they want — even the places where "most" people don't want to go.
Elaine Carlson moved to Silver City last year with
her husband, his cat, and her 72 dolls.