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embody our essential purpose. Willie Britt's story is one of those.

Willie Britt's now-famous "Sandals" poster hangs over my desk at home. It depicts row after row of brightly colored but otherwise identical sandals, with one askew. I think it conveys a powerful message about individuality. So, I thought I knew the Willie Britt story. Last month, however, I learned that William Britt - who had spent his first 34 years in the Willowbrook State School, an institution for the mentally retarded - had just graduated from Westchester Community College in New York at the age of 53. I was overwhelmed. I knew that when he had first left Willowbrook in 1974 for the Margaret Chapman School in Hawthorne, N.Y., the prospects for meaningful rehabilitation seemed poor. His counselors reported that he was angry, withdrawn and given to long periods of solitude. Fortunately, shortly after entering the Chapman School, Willie discovered his love for painting. That love soon became consuming, and Willie found his "canvases" everywhere - on the backs of discarded cardboard boxes and on crumpled pieces of construction paper. His talent blossomed.

It didn't take long for the school's director, Eileen Bisordi, to enroll Willie in the state's Very Special Arts program, enabling him to receive formal instruction in art. The talent which had gone unrecognized all his life now found its full expression. Soon his paintings, often of New York landmarks like the State Capitol and the Statue of Liberty, painted from postcards or photographs, were exhibited at the state's Very Special Arts festivals. Then, as part of a community outreach program initiated by the organization, Mrs. Bisordi enrolled Willie in Westchester Community College's fine arts program. For several years, Willie took art courses leading to the diploma he received last month. I am sure that few graduates anywhere this year were more deserving, tenacious or courageous than William Britt in achieving their goal.

In fact, when I think of the challenges I have faced in my own life, Willie is often the standard by which I take my measure. For Willie, the arts make a difference. I will always cherish the memory of whatever small part I may have played in making that transition possible. That's what makes my work with Very Special Arts so worthwhile. 

Willie's story is remarkable but not unusual. In this country, there are millions of children and adults with disabilities for whom the arts have special meaning. They may not have such exceptional talents, but they benefit from participation in the arts, which can foster independence and self-esteem. This is so important for those who must rely on others to do everyday things people take for granted. The creative process itself plays a role, since it involves making choices and taking control of a situation, a process which generalizes to other aspects of life. I think that's one reason why the arts so often offer successful alternative approaches to learning where traditional methods have failed. 

That's why I think Very Special Arts, one of many efforts that reach out to disabled persons, is such an important organization. Fifteen years ago, when it was founded by my aunt, Jean Kennedy Smith, as an affiliate of the education programs of the John F. Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts, people like Willie Britt were routinely excluded from the mainstream of society. There were few opportunities in the education system or in most communities for those people with disabilities to enjoy the arts or develop their talents.

This year's festivals and programs in dance, music, drama and the visual arts will involve more than one million individuals from 16,000 communities in every state. People with mental and physical challenges will have the opportunity to enjoy the arts and to discover talents they never thought they had. That's important because we all have disabilities and abilities. Although the public is more aware today of the physically and mentally challenged and their needs, much more needs to be accomplished. 

Starting this Wednesday at the Kennedy Center in Washington, D.C, we will sponsor a five-day International Very Special Arts Festival for participants from all over the world. It's going to be exciting. We're expecting more than 1000 individuals with disabilities, both students and professionals, from all 50 states and 50 foreign countries. We will be integrating artists with disabilities into performances by professional artists, so that we can learn from each other.

This gathering demonstrates the power of the arts to take us beyond ethnic, racial, socioeconomic and religious differences. It's also one of the few events that will unite representatives from all different disability groups in a common purpose. The festival will truly be a celebration of the humanity and culture that binds us all together.

Many of the artists at the festival have already made extraordinary accomplishments. We're planning to showcase their achievements in performances, art exhibits, dramatic productions and master classes that will take place all over Washington - at the White House, Ford's Theatre, the Kennedy Center and the Capitol. I'm sure that those who are unfamiliar with what people with disabilities have accomplished in the arts will be astonished by what they see. 

Michael Naranjo, for example, is a sculptor of extraordinary ability and accomplishment. When a grenade exploded near Michael in Vietnam in 1968, it ended his eye-sight but not his vision. He returned home to the Santa Clara Pueblo in New mexico, determined to make sculpting his life's work. At first, he got little encouragement, and his rehabilitation counselors urged him to pursue a vocation where he could more easily earn a living. At the time, employment statistics for disabled veterans were grim. However, Michael persevered, and today his sculptures sell internationally for up to $30,000. Having Michael at the festival should send a message of hope to aspiring artists everywhere who have disabilities.

Of course, not all of the artists coming to the festival have attained the recognition that Michael has. Many are young adults with a great deal of talent and a promising future, like Denise Shipler of Burt, Iowa, a gifted 19-year-old singer. Denise was born with phocomelia, which means that several of her limbs were only partially formed. Like other young people with a disability, she often experienced the cruelty of other children who ridiculed and shunned her.

Denise feels that it was music which saved her from despair during those difficult times and gave her a new basis for relating to her classmates. She has won ovations for her performances at the Iowa State Fair, and when she sings at our international festival, people from all around the world will join in celebrating her accomplishments.

Often, one of the most important factors in a person's adjustment to a disability, especially if it comes later in life, is the love and encouragement received from family and friends. I've spoken with several people who became paralyzed as adults from spinal-cord injuries, and all reported experiencing a very dark period of despair when the only thing that kept them going was the support and
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People will be given the chance to discover talents they never thought they had

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Jean Kennedy Smith gives poet a certificate of merit.

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Michael Naranjo (above) was blinded in Vietnam but became a successful sculptor. Denise Shipler (left), born with limb deformity, is a gifted young singer.

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Very Special Arts is represented by marchers with University of Wisconsin band.

PARADE MAGAZINE • JUNE 11, 1989 • PAGE 5