EXPAND program.

Some folks have wondered about my attachment to the EXPAND program, and because it's likely to be on exhibit here on more than one occasion I thought it might be fun to provide a little more background.

When I first arrived in Boulder in 1992 I heard about this softball program with teams composed equally of people with recognized disabilities--athletes, as they were appropriately called--and people whose disabilities were more subtle or more socially acceptable--partners.

Talking with the program director over the telephone, I was invited to show up to play on a team on a Tuesday night at 9:30. I arrived to a large group of people high-fiving, psyching themselves up for a game with great enthusiasm, and as a newcomer sat quietly by the side for a bit waiting to meet the director/coach. She arrived and worked her way around the group, slapping their backs equally the men and women of the teams, words of encouragement for everyone present.

As she approached me I greeted her with a friendly hello, and could feel her hesitate for a moment before she actually said anything.

"Hi," she said. Pause. "Are you here to play softball?"

"Yep," I said.

Pause.

"Are you an athlete, or a partner?"

There to play softball, I answered as truthfully as I could.

"I guess I'm an athlete."

"Oh," she said. "Have you played softball before?

"A little," I said.

"What position would you like to play tonight?" she asked.

"I think I'd like to pitch."

Pause.

"Have you pitched before?"

"A little."

The conversation went on like this for about five minutes before I realized she was trying to figure out which group to consider me a part of--athletes or partners. Arriving new to the situation, I didn't know there were such groups, so I guess my answers for her were something less than helpful.

Though I look back on it now with great amusement, the truth under it all is that in this group, there were few of the markings I had come to associate with recognized disabilities. I had worked for several decades, because of the institution-based "treatment" model of the years before the 80's, with people whose lives and bodies had actually been disfigured by society's attempts to "help" them.

This group was different. Every conceivable size and type of body, in every imaginable level of conditioning, a few strikingly handsome and a few funny looking for sure--but no more funny looking than I was, a grey-bearded guy thinking he could pitch softball.

Friends I made in those seasons of unified softball in the EXPAND program continue to be a part of my life, these many years later. I see them working in King Soopers, I go to church with them, I ride the bus with them, and though many of them have by now forgotten how we met, I will never forget. I treasure them as members of our community, and frequently wish a whole lot of other folks who live in our city would contribute half as much as my athlete friends from EXPAND do.

Next time Boulder Creek Festival rolls around, you might want to consider doing your small part to support this jewel of a program. Buy a rubber duck.