My dinner with Juiceman

Juiceman is my friend, Liz, whose last name is actually Huesemann. I ran into her at an event once and we both had a beer in our hands. I told her I would call her Juiceman from then on and it stuck.

Juiceman is a bleeding heart, just like I am. She runs a nonprofit that cares for people with developmental disabilities, and she refers to them as "my people." These are the people most of us would rather not see. They make us uncomfortable because we don't want to face the possibility that one of them could be our own child. When Liz and I were kids, most people put their developmentally disabled kids in institutions. They didn't have a right to an education or even to go to a restaurant and be served.

But to Juiceman, they're "my people."

I've covered disability issues most of my career, and I've spent a lot of time with people who have disabilities, and I have learned that everyone has value and deserves love and respect.

After 26 years in the newspaper business, I try to avoid covering most graduations. But I love the Progressive Education Program graduations.

They're full of surprises, and often a bit of comedy. The chorus sings, even though its members don't know the words. Juiceman and I both love to hear it because there's a drone as the words they don't know go by, and then there will be a phrase they know and they just belt it out with everything they have.

The graduation speaker is likely to freeze, even though he or she has carefully rehearsed the speech. Seeing people in the auditorium throws them off.

A graduate may decide he or she is done with the ceremony and just get up to leave.

I love people who see the joy in these lives. I taught my boys to appreciate whatever every person has to offer, even if it's only a smile.

There's value to every life, whether the person is disabled, sick, poor or homeless. We all have something to give. We ignore that value at the risk of our very soul as a society.