April 30: Juhan Liiv (1864-1913)

[visual description: portrait of poet Juhan Liiv as a young man, he appears to be fair-haired with light eyes; his expression is serious]

When I was only a little boy
A ringing was ringing in my mind.

And when I grew older
The ringing went louder.

Now I am almost buried in it,
My bosom is ruined under it,

My spirit and life are ringing sounds - Too cramped for them are earthly bounds!

--"Ringing" by Juhan Liiv (1910), as translated here

Estonian poet Juhan Liiv was born in this date in 1864, in the village of Alatskivi. He struggled with mental illness as a young man, and had trouble holding a job. His first story, "The Shadow," was published when he was thirty, and remains a classic of Estonian literature. But by the time it was published, he was staying at a clinic in Tartu, and was diagnosed with schizophrenia. A literary editor found his work and a volume of almost 500 poems by Liiv was published in 1909. Some of this poetry reflects Liiv's feelings of doom and fear, and his experiences as a poor and misunderstood man; other pages contain romantic or patriotic verses that found an appreciative audience.

Liiv died from pneumonia in winter 1913, after being thrown off a train (he didn't have a ticket, and unfortunately he didn't take his coat when he was ejected in a remote area). Today, Liiv is considered one of the finest poets in Estonian literature. His grave in his home village has a handsome marker, and the farm where he was raised is now a museum. Some of his writings have been set to music. Alatskivi also offers an annual Juhan Liiv Prize for Poetry.

Disability Blog Carnival #65 is up NOW!

Go check out Twxee's River of Jordan blog for the latest edition of the Disability Blog Carnival, built around the theme of balance--figurative and literal! And maybe you'll get excited to write up something for the May edition? It'll be hosted by Terri at Barriers, Bridges, and Books, with the theme "Story." She elaborates on that:

Story is the stuff of relationship. Story makes information meaningful and 'random' anecdotes connect.

People with disabilities historically have been removed from society's stories--they lived elsewhere, went to different schools, worked different jobs (or didn't), and to a large degree were left out of the history books...

The story society tells itself about disability--that disability is suffering and tragedy--often upstages the stories that people with disabilities live every day and tell whenever they get the opportunity.

Story introduces, bridges and explains...

If you have a story to tell, or something to say about story submit...

Yes, it's that time of year again.... BADD 2010!

Click the logo above for more information, then sign up to participate. BADD is now in its fifth year, which you know qualifies as "longstanding" in blog time.

Disability Blog Carnival reminder

Disability Blog Carnival #65 will be hosted at Twxee's blog, River of Jordan, next week. I'm come to know that there haven't been a lot of submissions so far, so please consider sending Twxee some links this weekend, especially for recent posts on the subject of "Balance" (her chosen theme). Or leave links here in the comments area.

Flickr: Judge Quentin D. Corley (1884-1980)

Judge Quentin D. Corley (LOC)
Originally uploaded by The Library of Congress

Another disability history image thanks to the Flickr Commons project. This one is from the Library of Congress's set from the George Grantham Bain Collection, news photos from 1910-1915. Here we see Judge Quentin D. Corley (as the title suggests), driving a very early model car with steering wheel adaptations for his prosthetic left hand; the right sleeve of his jacket appears to be empty. Corley looks to be a young man wearing a white summer hat.

Quentin Durward Corley was born in 1884 in Mexia, Texas. As a young clerk in 1905, he lost both hands, his right arm, and his right shoulder in a railroad accident near Utica, New York. Corley went into a law career, passing the bar in Dallas County in 1907; in 1908 he became a justice of the peace, and in 1912 he was elected a county judge--the youngest county judge in Texas at the time. He also developed and patented the prosthetic hand he's shown using here--which allowed him to drive, type, button, cut, light a match, and write with a pen better than other available options. He toured the state of Texas alone by car to publicize his campaign for a girls' training school in the state. Corley died in 1980, age 96.

The Dallas Observer's blog wrote up this photo last fall. But they refer to a much earlier newspaper's treatment of the story: in 1918, under the title "Handicaps of Fate Defied by Cripples," the New York Times reported that Corley spoke a meeting at the then-new Red Cross Institute for Crippled and Disabled Men in New York City that year, intended to encourage returning World War I veterans who may have similar physical impairments. Other speakers at the meeting were Michael J. Dowling, a bank president from Olivia, Minnesota (and a triple amputee from severe frostbite in his youth); and Frederick W. Keough, a representative of the National Association of Manufacturers, who discussed the issues of rehabilitation and employment for disabled veterans.

Flickr: Jack and Della Mae Smith in Front of the Beer Joint He Operates in Rhodell, West Virginia, near Beckley 06/1974

Jack and Della Mae Smith in Front of the Beer Joint He Operates in Rhodell, West Virginia, near Beckley 06/1974
Originally uploaded by The U.S. National Archives

The Flickr Commons project continues to include images from the history of disability. In this 1974 color photo from the US National Archives, we see Jack Smith with his wife, seated under an "RC" sign. Jack is in a wheelchair. The couple have their arms across each other's shoulders, and Jack seems to be smiling at something Della Mae is saying.

The US National Archives Flickr stream includes other photos of Jack Smith from 1974: alone, holding the family dog, with one of his young daughters, with three of his daughters, with two of his brothers, heading down the street, and working on a union poster. All the photos were taken by photojournalist Jack Corn as part of the Environmental Protection Agency's Documerica project.

Jack Smith was a new coalminer in West Virginia when he lost both legs in a mine cave-in, years before these photos taken. He remained active in union work, and ran a "beer joint" with Della Mae in Rhodell, West Virginia. In the notes attached to one of the photos in the series, it says "During the Strike for Black Lung Benefits His Wife Wheeled Him in Front of a Train to Stop It."

March 17: Mrs. McGrath

Two years ago, I posted about the song "Paddy's Lamentation" for St. Patrick's Day--it's a US Civil War-era song about an Irish immigrant who joins the Union Army and loses a leg in battle. This year, another Irish ballad about a disabled veteran--and his mother.

"Mrs. McGrath" (aka "Mrs. McGraw") is at least two hundred years old, but like a lot of ballads it gets adapted to the current circumstances as needed. It's sometimes sung as a dialog between Mrs. McGrath and her son Ted, back from war with both legs amputated. Some of the verses:

O captain, dear, where have you been,
Have you been sailing in the Meditereen,
And have you any tidings of my son Ted,
Is the poor boy alive or is he dead?

Well, up comes Ted, without any legs,
And in their place he's got two wooden pegs.
She kissed him a dozen times or two,
Crying, Holy Moses, it isn't you

Now was you drunk, or was you blind,
When you left your two fine legs behind,
Or was it walking upon the sea,
Wore your two fine legs from the knees away?

No, I wasn't drunk, and I wasn't blind
When I left my two fine legs behind,
But a big cannon ball on the fifth of May,
Tore my two fine legs from the knees away.

Oh Teddy, my boy, the widow cried,
Your two fine legs were your mamma's pride,
The stumps of a tree won't do at all,
Why didn't you run from the big cannon ball?

All foreign wars, I do proclaim,
Between Don Juan and the King of Spain,
And I'll make them rue the time
They took two legs from a child of mine.

Here's an upbeat version from Tommy Makem, and another from Pete Seeger. For a more somber contemporary version, here's Bruce Springsteen: