Elsewhere, I've described "roast pig" from the essay by Charles Lamb (x-y): doing things the complicated round-about-way the first time, before learning the "short-cuts". I used this term to describe the obfuscations students are taught as "mathematics".

And I mentioned my extension of this term, "roast pork barrel", encompassing the term "pork barrel" applied to bills in the House of Representatives and in the Senate and in state Legislatures around the country to waste money on projects that benefit constituents little or not at all but bring money to contractors and manufacturers and other hirers of political lobbyists.

I've years of experience in watching one of these roast pork barrels: facilities for the disabled.

My dear wife, Esther, was afflicted by polio in infancy, leaving a paralyzed left leg. When I first met her, she walked with a cane. After our marriage, she worked while I took a B.S. in Physics at Columbia University. And we both worked while I took a Masters in Mathematics at New York University. She's born two children and helped to raise them. In Puerto Rico, where I taught University math and physics, she taught English, Spanish, French, and Latin. Later, I helped her accomplish her Master's Degree in Comparative Literature at the University of Maine at Orono, when I was with their Mathematics Department.

But Esther has broken her paralyzed leg ten times and the "good" leg three times and had two mastetomies. But kept going.

During her last 17 years, before retirement, Esther worked for the Washington Park Department, where she was often asked to test "facilities for the disabled" in the Parks and in related facilities. One of these was "The Eisenhower Center", built in front of The National Theater. While it was being built, Esther was taken over by Park authorities to check out the "wheelchair ramp" built there. An engineer stood at the bottom and told her to come down. Esther told him that the ramp was too steep. But he insisted it was not and that she try it. While descending, Esther lost control, went hurtling down and knocked the engineer into waste basket. She said, "I'm glad you were there -- or I'd have ended up in the waste basket myself." The engineer brushed himself off and sidled away, muttering, "Who the hell brought her here?"

This incident was typical of what Esther discovered over and over. The engineers ignored specifications made from testing wheelchair-bound persons. Sometimes an able-bodied engineer would sit in a wheelchair and try to emulate a disabled person. If he couldn't reach something, he stood up.

Engineers built ramps, walks, thresholds, restrooms, wall telephone supports, elevator controls, their way. Got "black marks" from the users and then built these things over again. Sometimes again and again. Roast Pork Barrel. As one of the Networks says, "It's your money!" From taxes. Or from higher prices passed on to cover such waste. Don't blame the costs on the disabled. Blame it on the engineers and the contractors.

Incidentally, I hate the word "handicapped" and try never to use it. For, in its origin, it means a beggar handy with a cap to beg for alms.

And here's another true story to show how long this has been going on. Do you know who started the movement to provide curb cuts and ramps for wheelchairs? Vietnam veterans!!! When we came into this region in 1972, we often read stories in the paper about one particular Vietnam vet who lost his legs. He had powerful arms and carried a sledge hammer fastened to the side of his wheel chair. When he came to a place where there was no curb cut, he swung his sledge hammer and made one. Naturally, he would end up in court. But he was also "armed" with a copy of the Law saying that curbs cuts were supposed to be made. "Oh", said one judge, "then you helped out the Government by making one. Case dismissed. Officer, don't bring that man into my court room again!"

This is still going on, along with other excuses for wasting our money.

Here is something I wrote, years ago, trying to invoke some of the frustration which Esther and fellow disablees must feel -- not only with their physical plight -- but with humans-as-obstacles. Also written out of my own resentment at those who would change "God become man" to "The Imperial Christ", beyond the reach of us ordinary folk.

				(Tune: "Agincourt Hymn")
				Christ in a wheelchair,
				Human bound.
				No faking beggar
				Or numen found
				In cornice column
				Or vaulting spire,
				But, hapless, wrought
				In frustration's fire!

RETURN TO "ROAST PIG"