Founder’s Note
Michele Smither
I vividly remember that day in July 1990 when the Americans with Disabilities Act (ADA) was signed into law. Becca was 15, and I was already thinking ahead, wondering how to best support her as she approached that pivotal age of 18. Guiding any child into adulthood is full of decisions, but in my experience, it’s far more challenging when your child has a disability.
The passing of the ADA brought hope and opportunity. For those of us who knew life both before and after, it felt like a breath of fresh air—hope for our children’s futures and for the generations coming after them. And hope is always a good thing.
I believe the greatest gift of the ADA has been awareness. Before I became part of this community, I was completely oblivious to the daily barriers people with disabilities face—struggles I never had to think twice about in my own life.
When I became aware, I was dumbfounded—and even a little ashamed of my ignorance. Like so many others, I had simply gone about my young life, unaware of these challenges. Coming to terms with that ignorance forced me to do some real self-reflection and broadened my narrow view of the world. I often asked myself, “Why didn’t I know anything about this?” But once you do know, you can’t pretend you don’t. Even now, when I come across inaccessible spaces, I make it a point to speak up.
The ADA has brought many important changes: accessible parks and buildings, ramps and automatic doors, braille on signs and reading materials, TTY phone communication, service dogs welcomed in public places, and handicapped parking that makes daily life a bit easier for those who need it.
But laws alone can’t change hearts and attitudes. True progress requires a softened heart, an open spirit, and a willing mind. When people resent making spaces accessible—because of the time, cost, or effort involved—they fail to see the vital importance of this legislation.
A better mindset comes when we’re grateful—not resentful—for the direction accessibility provides, recognizing that any one of us might need these accommodations someday. Gratitude for our own current independence should inspire compassion, not arrogance.
Having walked this path for five decades, I’ve seen incredible progress. Education for people with disabilities is now required by law, and the ADA has paved the way for countless improvements. For this, I am deeply grateful.
Still, I sometimes feel frustrated by how casually many people accept the benefits of the ADA. It’s easy to forget the hard-fought battles of those who came before us. Too often, people take these changes for granted. But trust me—it hasn’t always been this way. We all have a responsibility to continue improving the path that’s already been forged. Don’t wait until accessibility directly affects you to care. Appreciate the hard work that made the ADA possible and commit to enhancing it, not just enjoying its benefits.
There’s still more to be done. At Dutton Farm, we see barriers every day, but we remain focused and determined to keep building on the progress of the warriors who came before us.
Accessibility is necessary and good, but true change also requires a shift of the heart—a celebration and embrace of people with disabilities. We’re not finished yet.
Michele