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Letters to the Editor

KMA Unbar the Door

I am a disabled artist who had polio when I was small. For years I have worked at the Oak Ridge National Laboratory. Until recently, I dragged my body around with a crutch and braces. I have applied for disability because my muscles are beginning to wear out, causing me to develop arthritis along with other problems, such as recovering from a detached retina, but this is not my concern for I deal with this by myself.

I have for the last 20 years gone to the Dulin Art Gallery, and now I travel the 50 miles to the Knoxville Museum of Art to support the showing of major art exhibits. In the last couple years, I have started using an electric wheelchair, but as I get out and go by myself I keep running into instances of handicapped inaccessibility. The Art Museum has an elevator for me to ride to different floors, but I have to ring a bell to enter the museum. I usually fling the door open and try to wedge the wheelchair in the door before it closes.

Through the years as a disabled individual many black friends have explained to me how they hated the "whites-only" water fountains and "Blacks enter at the rear" signs. As a disabled white person, I see this as a better form of discrimination; it crosses all races.

I have suggested to personnel that the door needs to be replaced with automatic doors, and I get the old "they do not have enough money to do this."

Well, I would gladly give an extra dollar, eight rather than seven, to enjoy better access to a museum that has shown several major exhibits to the area—Rodin, Red Grooms, Escher, and now Andy Warhol. I even saw the Rodin Exhibit three times because of its superior quality.

I have every belief that with all the new-found money coming from the top 53 percent of the Bush believers in the Knoxville area that surely one of the UT benefactors' money could be used for automatic doors. Personally, I wouldn't care if they were orange.

Lee Roy Gilliam
Oak Ridge

Eulogy to a Free Spirit

Our community [has] lost a colorful symbol of cheer, love, kindness, and enjoyment of life. Deardra Hingle died quietly in her sleep [June 4] at Hillcrest Nursing Institute.

ALS (Lou Gehrig's disease) took from us a dancer, sculptor, and engaged citizen. Most horrible of all, ALS took a free spirit who encouraged everyone she knew to live fully.

You may have seen Deardra in her colorful garb (no such thing as ordinary clothes) riding her bicycle through the city for years until the muggers could outrun her. Then she got a motor scooter that outran them. Finally ALS outran her.

But ALS merely slowed her down until very recently. She still danced, applauded those who made beauty, and enjoyed the life of our community. On Sunday she went to the Tennessee Valley Unitarian Universalist Church for a sacred dance circle. She enjoyed it, appreciated the dancers, and returned to Hillcrest for the last time still free, still loving life, still lighting our community.

Thank you, Deardra Hingle, for the years in which you enriched us with your example, the beauty of your life.

Grayfred B. Gray
Knoxville

Fragility City

A friend and I were sitting at a table discussing Knoxville's downtown renovation project. Suddenly a tiny idea emerged and bounced across the table between us. As we moved the idea back and forth across the table, we noticed the idea was growing each time it was moved from one to the other.

Another friend joined us and the idea was passed between the three of us, still growing larger and much heavier with each passing. Other people began to join the group. As more people joined, the faster the idea grew. The idea was passed up and down the long table getting larger and slower each time.

The idea stopped moving and stopped growing. It just sat there in the center of the table—a huge heavy blob unrecognizable to any of us—just sitting there not moving, staring at us. Suddenly the table collapsed. The massive idea fell to the floor and shattered, becoming only dust.

For a moment we just stared at each other in disbelief. Then we all went about our day.

Vernon Lee Gillian
Knoxville