Frank Ryan sat on the chair, nervously clasping and unclasping his hands several times, waiting for his name to be announced. His mind, like a book, began turning the pages of his past when everyone laughed at him.


He often spoke to others about his future. However, his friends, even his parents and his brother, Paul, hoped Frank would someday come to his senses, realizing his dream could never happen.

Frank was born with Cerebral Palsy, which made it difficult for him to walk, speak, and hold things. Kids laughed at him because he walked with both knees curved and dragging his left foot.

Children teased him when he talked. "You sound like Donald Duck," they said. Frank had a speech impediment, making it difficult to pronounce words, especially words beginning with ST. When he said the word store. He pronounced it sore. Children mocked him, shattering his spirits every time.

His brother, Paul, often joked about his disability when Frank's hands shook while holding a cup or glass, and the liquid spilled. "What happen?" His brother teased. "Was there an earthquake?"

Frank chuckled at his brother's jokes. He knew if he didn't even smile, his brother would continue humiliating him. Still, his brother's humor gave Frank a pain that always pierced his heart.

"Don't make fun of your brother," mother said, explaining to Paul his remarks were cruel.

During his youth, Frank hated to be identified as 'different'. He preferred to be like any other boy: play baseball, go camping, and fishing, but his parents were afraid their son would get hurt doing those things.

His father loved Frank, giving his son toys and books, or just about anything the boy wanted. Frank, however, preferred to be interactive with his father, shoot baskets, play catch in the backyard, all the things he did with Paul. Instead, his father always said, "You can't do that." A phrase Frank heard repeatedly and a phase he believed.

Until one day, Frank was in his bedroom, where he spent most of his time. Books his dad gave him cluttered the boy's desk. He loved reading about sports and biographies of prominent people like George Washington, Thomas Edison, and Martin Luther King. One day, he chose a book about a woman named Helen Keller, who was blind and deaf since birth.

Frank marveled at Ms. Keller's resilience to overcome her disabilities, her achievements at earning a college degree, becoming a social worker, and authoring several books.

Her words inspired Frank, especially when she wrote, "One can never consent to creep when one feels an impulse to soar." Those words became the pillar of turning his dream into reality.

"You can't do that!" his father exclaimed upon hearing of his son's ambition. "Stop dreaming of things you cannot do."

His remark occurred one evening during supper, as the family gathered around the kitchen table.

"This is not a silly dream," Frank said adamantly, with a tint of sorrow in his voice. He wanted to inform them about Helen Keller, but his father continued interrupting him.

"You're a young boy. Too early about thinking on what you choose to do when you grow up. Don't worry, after graduating high school, I'll talk to your Uncle John. He will give you a job in his grocery store."

Frank remained quiet. He recognized his family and allies saw his broken body as a vessel manufacturing small accomplishments during his life, to accept the tools God gave him and acknowledged the acceptance of building only a shed, never a castle.

Sad and discouraged, he retired to his room after supper and sat at his desk, contemplating the negative thoughts others had of him. Then, his mind reminisced over the courage of Helen Keller. He began reflecting on his own vision of reality. He believed nothing was beyond his grasp and that's all he had to do but believe in himself.

He realized he would always tread upon a path scarred with discriminations and mockery, but he would certainly walk a passageway of his own desire.

As the years passed, Frank continued the ridicule from his peers, always fighting back his tears. He stayed in his room, reading books about people like Franklin Roosevelt, Steven Hawking, and Albert Einstein, individuals with disabilities. Frank understood their adversities, and the constant harassment they took from others, which he also received.

Like that summer day in the park, Frank and his brother walked where boys were playing baseball. A boy shouted to Frank's brother, who was a good pitcher.

"Hey Paul! Do you want to play with us?"

"Okay," Paul shouted. "My brother wants to play too."

The boys laughed.

"No way," another boy scoffed. "Last time Frank played, he missed the ball every time we threw it at him."

They chortled more.

"Yeah," said the other boy. "He runs around the bases like a drunken sailor."

Frank's nostrils flared as flames of anger heated his body. He took off running, staggering along the ground, his arms flailing in the air as he still heard them laughing.

A pain lodged in his stomach like someone punched him in the gut. He wanted to yell at them, curse them, and tell them of their malice toward others, and the harm they did to people who cannot control their bodies or their disfigurement by a fate not of their own. But the words stuck in his throat. With his knees trembling, Frank ran, and his brother soon followed.

"Ignore those imbeciles," his brother said.

"I hear their remarks every time I go out. I should just stay in my room," Frank whimpered. His heart breaking like glass shattering.

"You can't do that. You can't let those jerks win."

"What bright suggestion do you have?" Frank snickered.

His sibling remained silent momentarily when suddenly his mouth curled into a smile as he clicked his fingers. "Show others you accepted your disability with humor."

"I'm not following you," Frank looked puzzled.

"I remember reading when the blind Stevie Wonder told his audience if he wasn't a singer, he would have been an airplane pilot."

Giving an uncertain glare, Frank lingered over his brother's idea. He tried his brother's solution around family and friends, creating a congenial atmosphere. Because of his poor balance, Frank started joking that when he fell, he would say, "The ant tripped me."

As they grew older, Paul spent more time with his brother. He felt contrite towards Frank, being alone in life, having people humiliate him by the way he walked and talked. Paul helped dissolve his brother's loneliness by random acts of kindness. He especially shared time with his brother, which Frank treasured most of all. They shot baskets in the backyard and played catch in the park.

One day they went to play baseball and to the others boys' astonishment, Frank caught every ball that came his way.

During a summer afternoon, Frank said to his brother, "Teach me to ride a two-wheeler."

"But dad- "

"I don't care what dad said," Frank interrupted. "I'm twelve. Dad taught you at six." He raised his brows.

"I know. But- "

"But nothing." He stopped Paul, assuming his brother blamed his disability.

"I just want a chance." Frank said, putting his lips together into a thin smile.

Paul was reluctant to oblige his brother, even though his heart felt otherwise. He also knew his parents would go berserk when they found out. His head would appear on the chopping block. "What happens if you fall?" Paul asked.

"I'll get up." Frank grinned, shrugging his shoulders.

They laughed.

Paul saw the delightful glow on his brother's face. He also imagined the devilish glares from his parents upon hearing the news. Aware of his parent's resistance, Paul spared his brother's agony and reached out to fulfill his brother's desire.

That day, they began their journey. Paul unscrewed the training wheels from the bike as the adrenalin flowed through Frank's body, anticipating a day of fun with an endless amount of challenge.

"Okay Frank, climb aboard," Paul said, as butterflies swarmed his stomach, concerned that Frank could get hurt.

Frank rested his feet on the rubber pedals as he sat on the seat while grasping the handlebars.

Meanwhile, Paul held the handlebars and the rear of the seat as Frank started his first lesson.

"Start pedaling," Paul said.

Beads of perspiration rolled across Frank's forehead as he steered the front wheel in a straight line, but the bike continued swaying side to side like the pendulum of a grandfather clock.

Paul jogged along the side of the bike. With his hands secured to the bike, making sure his brother enjoyed his first lesson with no injury.

As the days continued, the adrenalin filled Frank's limbs as he got more and more control of the bike, until one day he said. "Leave go."

"Are you sure?" Paul asked, sighing a deep breath, hesitant about granting his brother's request.

Frank nodded as his courage enlightened to accomplish his goal.

As Paul began taking his hands off the bike, a ball of anxiety lumped deep in his gut, fearing if his judgment of letting go was premature. "Are you sure?"

Frank nodded a second time. He pressed his lips tightly together and with sweaty palms; he clenched his hands around the handlebars, as his feet stepped down on the pedals.

Paul took his hands off the handlebars and the edge of the seat as Frank began his first solo, lasting only a few feet before he tumbled to the ground.

"Are you okay?" Paul ran to him, feeling the hard pounding in his heat and dreading Frank had fractured some bones.

"Yeah." He winced, attempting to get up. Paul placed his hands under Frank's shoulders, then lifted him to his feet.

"We should call it quits for today, Paul said.

Frank shook his head, brushed the dirt off his trousers, and got back on his bike.

He continued his journey, and after a few more days, Frank achieved his goal. But it wasn't a smooth ride. He fell off his bike several times, but continued to climb back on again and again. He even laughed, telling Paul, "I've been up and down so many times, I feel like a Yo-Yo."

When the day arrived of his bicycle skill, Frank and Paul rode through the neighborhood. Mouths fell open from the children, watching Frank as he passed by them with his shoulders back and his head held high, engaging in delight of his accomplishment that others assumed was unlikely.

However, his moments of jubilation soon plummeted like a bolder off a cliff and the gleam in his eyes vanished as his parents' cheeks burned with anger upon hearing the news.

"You could have broken your neck," barked his father.

"Bike riding is too dangerous for you," mother commented, shaking her head.

The transition evaporated from an array of bliss to a veil of gloom as Frank concluded no matter of his achievements, others observed him only of his disability, especially his parents, who during the debacle over his bike riding never congratulated him for achieving his goal.

Negativism did not imprison him as the months and years moved ahead. Frank adhered to the negativity of others, but nothing stopped him from pursuing his aspirations.

At sixteen, with the summer days upon him, Frank wanted a job. He saw many HELP WANTED signs in the store windows. Most of the proprietors shook their heads while others told him they call him back but never did.

Even his Uncle John, who owned a grocery store, told Frank, "The boxes are heavy for you to carry, and your balance isn't good. You might fall off the ladder when you are stocking groceries. Maybe when you get stronger."

On his way home, and after several rejections, including Uncle John's, Frank went to purchase a few magazines at a local newsstand, hoping the periodicals would cheer him up. Upon buying the Batman comic book and Mad Magazine, Frank noticed a HELP WANTED sign attached to the front of the newsstand.

"I want to apply for that job," Frank said to the man inside the wooden newsstand.

"Come back tomorrow morning at ten and talk to the owner," said the man, puffing on his pipe.

Frank thanked the man and walked away. He didn't believe him the owner would be there the next day. It was an excuse. Frank knew the man was lying, hoping he would fulfill the position before Frank's return the following day. It happened before. Frank knew the man would tell the owner about his spastic hand when he gave the man his money and his speech impediment when he asked him about the job.

The next morning, he returned to the newsstand. Frank saw the elderly man sitting on a stool with the stem of his corncob pipe hanging from the corner of his mouth while gray smoke billowed over his snow white hair. A tall man stood next him with broad shoulders and wore dark glasses.

"This is Bob Sanders," the old man said, introducing Frank to the owner, who was wearing dark glasses.

"Hello, sir. I'm Frank Ryan." He extended his arm to shake the owner's hand.

Mr. Sanders also extended his arm, but his hand was a small distance from Ryan's. The old man gestured with his eyes for Frank to clasp Mr. Sanders' hand, making the boy realize the owner was a blind man.

Frank began talking to the owner when a customer placed a coin on the counter to buy a newspaper. After the customer went away, Frank saw the owner's fingers slide across the counter. He missed touching the coin the first time, then finally reached it. His long fingers felt the size of the coin as the old man informed Mr. Sanders that he held a quarter, which the owner inserted the coin into the correct slot of his metallic four-barrel money changer attached to the belt around his waist.

The young lad continued talking, hoping to get the job. But a wall of silence suddenly emerged between them, which tightened the muscles in the boy's stomach.

"Could you start tomorrow?" Mr. Sanders asked.

"Y-Yes," Frank said. His pulse pounded with excitement as he gave a smile that could light up Madison Square Garden.

However, his moment of happiness dissolved like snow melting under the sun. A cold sweat shrouded his body, as his nerves stiffened, afraid his condition had been unknown to Mr. Sanders. Fearful it would end his employment once revealed. He lingered at exposing his secret, but in his heart, truth prevailed.

"I have Cerebral Palsy," he said, lowering his chin, fearful of the rejection of hiring him.

"Can you make change for the customers?" Mr. Sanders asked.

"Ah, yeah, of course," Frank replied, astonished by the owner's response.

"That's all I require." the owner said. "My only concern of an employee is his or her ability to do the job and nothing else."

The boy's lips curved into a big smile as he shook the hands of both gentlemen and walked away.

A sense of self-respect empowered Frank that the past few days, people took from him, only observing his disability, neglecting the one thing he wanted, an opportunity. He had found someone who had shared an affliction, realizing the barriers of prejudices and bulling of a disabled person. He had found someone who went beyond Frank's physical features, focusing on his capabilities rather than his disabilities.

The following day, Frank started his job, lasting for two years, before going to college. People stared at him, others asked if he had a stroke. Frank even encountered some customers wondering if whatever he had was catching. Mr. Sanders told Frank, "Every one may be stupid once in a while."

Besides biased comments Frank endured during his employment, he also learned about his boss.

Mr. Sanders was blind since birth. He went to college and received a BA Degree in Business Administration. After several years working at the Institution for the Blind, struggling with people never giving him opportunities to advance in the business world, he saved his money and began purchasing newsstands in various neighborhoods and now owns thirty-five.

Idolizing his first employer, Frank continued through life, always thinking of Mr. Sanders and the obstacles he conquered. It helped Frank to overcome the harassment and the bias opinions he would tolerate at every phase of his life.

One encounter came when Frank was in his third year at college. It happened in his English class.

"Listen up class," said a student. "I need some volunteers to represent our class in the college's bicycle race next Saturday. The proceeds go towards our new gym and the class who wins gets a trophy and one hundred dollars gift cards."

Students raised their hands, including Frank. However, the person choosing the volunteers craned his neck, avoiding Frank's flailing arm. Later, Frank learned the student told others he didn't want a cripple on the team.

His rejection opened another avenue. Frank saw a display for funding money for a local children's hospital. An idea clicked in his head.

On the day his class raced through town, Frank rode his bike around the community, collecting money for the children's hospital.

A few weeks later, while his class received a trophy for third place, Frank and his parents sat at an awards dinner sponsored by the hospital's board of directors. They gave Frank a gold medal attached to ribbons of red, white, and blue for raising one thousand dollars.

As the President of the hospital placed the award around Frank's neck, the young man remembered the words of Helen Keller, "When one door closes, another will open." He adhered to that message for life in his flawed body, realizing he would meet many more locked doors during his lifetime.

Suddenly, Frank heard his name that awakened him from the past. He stood and took a glimpse of the audience. His eyes focused on his mother, holding a tissue and wiping the tears streaming down her cheeks.

Frank started walking across the stage towards the dean, and from the corner of his eye, he saw his brother smiling and giving him a thumbs up.

He proceeded to the center of the stage, where a distinguished gentleman, dressed in a black cap and grown, gave Frank Ryan a rolled certificate trimmed with gold ribbons.

As he received a thunderous applause, he thought of his father, who succumbed from a heart attack when Frank graduated from high school. Still, Frank remembered his father's words. 'No, you can't.' Although that day, Frank smiled as he received his medical degree, and whispering to his father, "Yes, I can."