ROAR

Accessible Travel: When Inclusion Means More Than Getting Through the Door.

For many wheelchair users, travel isn’t as simple as booking a vacation.

We have to think about door widths, bathrooms, transfers, transportation, accessibility at our destination, medical equipment, and whether we’ll actually be able to participate once we get there.

That’s why our recent experience aboard the Carnival Vista stood out.

The Vista was recently renovated and retrofitted, and there were a number of features that made the ship considerably more wheelchair-friendly for someone like me—a full-time power wheelchair user and C7 quadriplegic.

♿ ACCESSIBILITY THAT PROMOTES INDEPENDENCE.

Our stateroom was a fully accessible wheelchair suite with the space and accommodations necessary for me to maneuver independently.

One of my favorite features was the push-button watertight bulkhead door leading to the balcony. I could open it independently and access a large balcony without having to rely on someone else to operate the door.

Throughout the ship, accessible public restrooms included electric doors and accessible locking mechanisms, allowing guests to enter, secure the door, and exit with considerably less physical effort. With nothing but a hand swipe you could lock and unlock the doors with ease.

Carnival also offers equipment that can be arranged in advance to help meet individual disability needs. During our trip, we had a Hoyer lift delivered to our room before we arrived. Pool lifts are also available on select ships to assist guests getting into and out of the water.

These things may seem small to someone who doesn’t need them.

To someone with a significant mobility disability, they’re the difference between

“Can I do this?” and “I can do this myself.”

ACCESSIBILITY SHOULDN’T END WHEN THE SHIP DOCKS.

Our itinerary included Aruba, Bonaire, and Celebration Key.

Bonaire was a highlight.

Instead of simply getting off the ship and hoping we’d find something accessible, we booked an independent, fully accessible excursion.

The company picked us up in accessible transportation and spent the entire day showing us around the island.

And this wasn’t simply a drive around Bonaire.

They took us to experience things that were unique to the island and built the day around making sure we could participate.

That is what accessible travel should be.

Not simply “You can come.”

But:

“You can participate.”

That’s an important distinction.

ACCESSIBLE DOESN’T MEAN BORING.

The Carnival Vista is loaded with amenities and entertainment.

There’s SkyRide, WaterWorks, the IMAX Theatre, Havana, multiple dining options, specialty restaurants, bars, lounges, and plenty of spaces to simply relax and enjoy the ship.

We spent quite a bit of time at the Havana Bar, and when the Caribbean heat became too much, we headed to the IMAX and watched F1.

For a wheelchair user, some attractions still have limitations. For example, the SkyRide and SkyCourse aren’t designed to accommodate wheelchairs or mobility scooters.

And that’s okay.

Accessibility doesn’t mean every activity will be accessible to every person.

It means we should be able to know what is accessible, what isn’t, and what alternatives exist—before we arrive.

Carnival also provides accommodations addressing a wide range of disabilities, including mobility, visual, hearing, and cognitive needs. Accessible staterooms, elevator access, accessible seating, Braille and tactile signage, hearing-assistance equipment, closed captioning, service-animal accommodations, and other supports can all play an important role in making travel more inclusive.

WHY THIS MATTERS-

We talk a lot about rediscovering the things we thought we lost.

Sometimes that’s hunting.

Sometimes it’s fishing.

Sometimes it’s getting back into the woods.

And sometimes it’s simply traveling with your family and experiencing a place you’ve never been.

Accessibility isn’t just about ramps.

It’s about opportunity.

It’s about independence.

It’s about participation.

It’s about being able to make memories with your family instead of sitting on the sidelines because the environment wasn’t designed with you in mind.

After more than three decades of looking at the world from a wheelchair, I’ve learned that accessible travel isn’t about finding a perfect destination.

There probably isn’t one.

It’s about finding destinations, businesses, transportation providers, tour operators, and organizations willing to say:

“Let’s figure out how we can make this work.”

That’s inclusion.

That’s advocacy.

And that’s what we’re trying to promote through advocacy.

Because disability may change how we experience the world.

It shouldn’t determine whether we’re allowed to experience it.

This is but a snippet and a snapshot of my life as a quadriplegic, but life still rolls full circle, it’s all about finding new ways to .

. . . . . . . . . . . . . Mike Hudson. Jay Youngblood. D.j. Haynes. ROAR. Paralyzed Veterans of America. Americans with Disabilities - the Largest Minority. Christopher & Dana Reeve Foundation. American Association of People with Disabilities. Shepherd Center. United Spinal Association. Coy Varnum. Carnival Cruise Lines Chat, Tips, Reviews and Fun. Carnival Cruise Line News, Tips & Chat. CARNIVAL MARDI GRAS CRUISERS - OFFICIAL GROUP. Carnival Cruise Line. Carnival Mardi Gras - Port Canaveral. Military Cruise Deals / My Cruise Club. Cruise Fever. Greg Traynor

Just Keep Pushing: Finding Your New Mission.

No activity is a small activity if it allows you to feel independent, productive, included, and involved.

Life after a spinal cord injury or traumatic event may change your trajectory—but it doesn’t mean life has to stop.

Sometimes, you simply have to find a different way to do the things you used to do.

Pushing a garbage can with your feet and wheelchair.

Using a Swiffer to clean the floors.

Finding an adaptive way to enjoy bowling.

Using an auger and a little teamwork to get the job done.

Adding an extendable pole to a Swiffer duster to reach those places that are just out of reach.

Using a quad-friendly gripper operated through wrist movement.

Blowing leaves and debris out of the garage and driveway.

These may seem like small things to someone else.

But when you’ve had your independence changed by injury, being able to contribute matters.

Being productive matters.

Being involved matters.

And sometimes accomplishing something that others take for granted can be a huge victory.

That’s why we have to push past perceived limitations.

Not every challenge requires us to accept, “I can’t do that.”

Sometimes the better question is:

“How can I do that differently?”

That mindset can lead us to adaptive equipment, creative problem-solving, teamwork, education, advocacy, recreation, employment, and entirely new opportunities.

Maybe the path you were on before your injury isn’t the path you’re on today.

That’s okay.

A spinal cord injury may change your direction, but it can also reveal a new mission.

Keep learning.

Keep growing.

Seek higher education.

Stay active.

Stay involved.

Find ways to contribute.

Advocate for positive change.

Look for the tools that create independence.

Surround yourself with people who encourage possibility instead of limitation.

Your life isn’t defined by what your injury took away.

It’s also defined by what you continue to build.

I believe there’s always another way forward.

Change course.

Find new purpose.

Discover new possibilities.

And whatever you do…
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This is just my opinion and an empathetic view from my seat.

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American Association of People with Disabilities. Americans with Disabilities - the Largest.
Challenged Athletes Foundation. Mike Hudson. Paralyzed Veterans of America. D.j. Haynes. Jay Youngblood. Jeremy Kerr

Key Cards, Push Buttons & Independence: What Makes a Cruise Truly Accessible?

When we talk about wheelchair-accessible cruising, we often focus on the obvious things: accessible cabins, roll-in showers, elevators, ramps, and accessible shore excursions.

Those things matter.

But as a C7 quadriplegic and full-time power wheelchair user, I’ve learned that sometimes the things that make the biggest difference in my independence are the little things.

On one of our cruises aboard
Carnival Cruise Line’s Mardi Gras, one of those things really stood out to me:

A key-card entry door.

Being able to independently approach my cabin, use my key card, and have the door open automatically is more than a convenience. It means I don’t have to struggle with a heavy door while maneuvering my chair. The same goes for push-button doors and automated doors throughout the ship.

The Mardi Gras had a number of features that made navigating the ship much easier for me:

♿ Electric cabin doors
♿ Electric doors into accessible public restrooms
♿ Automated locks and door openers
♿ Electric access to the balcony
♿ Roll-in shower
♿ Roll-under sink
♿ Push-button lighting
♿ Accessible thermostat controls
♿ Emergency call buttons
♿ Bed positioned at approximately wheelchair-transfer height
♿ Accessible seating and reserved wheelchair spaces in dining areas
♿ Accessible viewing areas for entertainment
♿ Pool accessibility, including a lift at one pool
♿ Large accessible restrooms throughout the ship

These aren’t simply “nice amenities.”

They create inclusionary independence.

And independence is something I look for everywhere I travel.

As a quadriplegic wheelchair user, I find myself asking questions that many people never have to consider:

Can I open the door myself?

Can I reach the lock?

Can I maneuver into the bathroom?

Can I actually use the sink?

Can I get into the shower?

Can I reach the thermostat?

Can I get to the balcony?

Can I get a good view at the show?

Can I get into the pool?

Can I move through the space without constantly depending on someone else?

Those questions can determine whether a vacation feels like an adventure—or an exercise in logistics.

And then there’s the entertainment…

Cruising has come a long way.

On the Mardi Gras, we enjoyed shows, musicals, comedians, piano bars and sing-alongs, military appreciation events, steel drums by the pool, towel folding, and outdoor activities such as ping pong, mini golf and basketball.

And, of course, there’s plenty of food.

Nachos and pizza at 2 a.m.? Absolutely!!

Steak and lobster at “anytime dining”?

Irish coffee before brunch?

A “sensible salad” covered in bacon, cheese and dressing?

Three courses at dinner followed by Tums and a trip to the soft-serve machine?

I’m on vacation. Calories don’t count.

But seriously, being able to participate in entertainment is just as important as being able to get into the cabin.

As someone who uses a power chair, large crowds and tight spaces can present challenges. We found that the event staff, Cruise Director Kyndall Fire, and the entertainers did a fantastic job helping us find accessible places to enjoy the shows.

We learned a few things along the way:

Arrive early.
Ask the crew about the best vantage point.
Be flexible with timing.
And most importantly—have fun. It’s a vacation!

What do YOU look for?

We’ve cruised with both Carnival and Royal Caribbean, and we’ve shared our experiences because personal stories can be incredibly valuable when someone with a disability is trying to decide where to spend their vacation dollars.

For me, accessibility isn’t just about whether a ship technically meets a standard.

It’s about whether the design allows me to do things for myself.

A key card.

A push button.

An automatic door.

A reachable thermostat.

A properly designed bathroom.

A pool lift.

A place to sit and watch the show.

Those little pieces of technology and thoughtful design can add up to something pretty big:

Independence.

So we’d love to hear from our fellow wheelchair users:

What amenities or adaptive features do YOU look for when choosing a cruise ship?

What feature made your trip easier?

What feature gave you back a little independence?

And what do you wish cruise lines would add?

Let’s share the information and help the next person have a better experience.

From one wheeler to another—keep exploring, keep advocating, and .


Mike Hudson. Paralyzed Veterans of America. ROAR. D.j. Haynes. Jeremy Kerr. Christopher & Dana Reeve Foundation. Americans with Disabilities - the Largest Minority. American Association of People with Disabilities. Shepherd Center. DAV. Curb Free with Cory Lee. Carnival Cruise Line Entertainment. CARNIVAL MARDI GRAS CRUISERS - OFFICIAL GROUP. Carnival Cruise Lines Chat, Tips, Reviews and Fun. Carnival VIFP Club Members. Carnival Cruise Line News, Tips & Chat.

Does It Ever Seem Like Every Car in the Parking Lot Has an Accessibility Placard?

Have you ever pulled into a crowded parking lot and thought:

“Does every car here have a placard?”

Maybe it seems that way because more people legitimately qualify for accessible parking than we realize.

Not every disability is visible.

We should defend the right of people with disabilities to have the access they need, but there is another side of this conversation that we cannot ignore:

Placard misuse.

A disability parking placard is not a family parking pass.

It is not something to borrow from Mom or Dad because you’re running into the store.

It doesn’t remain valid simply because the person it was issued to has passed away.

Plus having a legitimate placard does not mean every person driving that vehicle has the right to use it.

A placard is issued to a person with a qualifying disability.

In general, that person must be the driver or passenger for the parking privilege to be legitimately used.

Yet misuse can take many forms:

• Using someone else’s placard when the person it belongs to isn’t in the vehicle.

• Continuing to use a placard belonging to a deceased relative.

• Using an expired, altered, forged, or fraudulent placard.

• Lending a legitimate placard to an able-bodied family member or friend.

• Using a placard primarily to obtain free or preferential parking.

Here’s why this matters.

Accessible parking isn’t a convenience.

For someone who uses a wheelchair, the space isn’t simply about being closer to the door.

The access aisle beside the vehicle may be the space required to deploy a wheelchair
ramp or lift.

A few additional parking spaces away can mean the difference between being able to safely enter a building and not being able to get out of the vehicle at all.

For some people, accessible parking means independence.

It means getting to work.

Getting groceries.

Going to a doctor’s appointment.

Taking a child to school.

Going to church.

Going to a ballgame.

Living life independently.

Research has also identified an important incentive behind some placard abuse: in jurisdictions where placards provide free or extended parking at meters, the financial benefit can make these permits particularly attractive to people who don’t legitimately need them.

Researchers including transportation scholar Donald Shoup have examined this problem and proposed reforms designed to preserve access for people with significant mobility limitations while reducing incentives for abuse.

So perhaps the question isn’t:

“Why are there so many people with handicap placards?”

Maybe the better questions are:

Are all of these placards being used by the people to whom they were issued?

Are expired and deceased placards being removed from circulation?

Are fraudulent placards being detected?

Are communities enforcing misuse consistently?

And perhaps most importantly:

Are we protecting accessible parking for the people who genuinely depend on it?

I’m not interested in policing someone’s disability.

I’m not interested in demanding that people “prove” their disability to strangers.

I am interested in protecting access.

Because when someone misuses a disability parking placard, the victim isn’t simply a parking space.

The victim may be the wheelchair user who arrives five minutes later and has nowhere to safely unload.

The person with a rollator who cannot safely navigate a long distance across a parking lot.

The veteran whose mobility has changed.

The parent transporting a child with a disability.

The person whose disability isn’t visible—but whose need for that space is very real.

The blue sign represents access.

Let’s stop treating it like a parking perk.

Respect the placard.

Respect the space.

Respect the person who needs it.

And if you believe accessible parking is becoming harder to find, tell us your story.

Have you ever arrived somewhere and found every accessible space occupied?

Have you witnessed someone using a placard when the person it was issued to wasn’t even in the vehicle?

What do you think should be done about placard misuse?

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. Mike Hudson. Paralyzed Veterans of America. ROAR. Jeremy Kerr. Christopher & Dana Reeve Foundation. American Association of People with Disabilities. Americans with Disabilities - the Largest Minority. Shepherd Center. Coy Varnum. Linda Chong. DAV. Kim Ravenscraft Harrison.

Resilience, Parenthood & Life Beyond the Chair

Recently, Greg and I had the opportunity to sit down with our friend and partner, Jeremy Kerr, for an episode of
The Accessible Hunter Podcast.

Jeremy is an incredible example of resilience. After a T4 spinal cord injury left him paralyzed, he didn’t stop living—he kept pushing forward through wounds, sports injuries, setbacks, parenthood, and all the everyday challenges that come with life after SCI.

We talked about fatherhood from a wheelchair perspective, getting his daughter to gymnastics and other activities, enjoying time together on the farm and an ATV, advocacy, and continuing to find new ways to stay active and engaged.

What stands out most about Jeremy isn’t simply what he has overcome. It’s the way he continues to show up, adapt, laugh, and keep moving forward no matter what comes his way.

I’m incredibly grateful for his friendship, his partnership, and the more than 20 years of lived experience he brings to conversations with countless PT and OT practitioners, through his “community write ups”, and continue drive

Jeremy doesn’t just talk about accessibility—he lives it, teaches it, and helps others see what’s possible.

I’m grateful to call him a friend and partner.

Keep pushing. Keep adapting. Keep living brother!

Keep setting the example and finding new ways to .

ROAR. American Association of People with Disabilities. Americans with Disabilities - the Largest Minority. Shepherd Center. Mike Hudson. . .
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. Paralyzed Veterans of America. D.j. Haynes. Jay Youngblood. DAV.

ABLEISM ISN’T JUST AN ATTITUDE. IT’S A SYSTEM.

It’s always interesting to have an able-bodied individual tell me what the “best” wheelchair is for my lifestyle.

Think about that for a moment.

A person who has never spent their life navigating a wheelchair, transferring in and out of a vehicle, getting through a narrow doorway, rolling across uneven terrain, managing fatigue, reaching for something from a seated position, or figuring out how a chair actually fits into everyday life is sometimes placed in the position of deciding what equipment is “best” for the person who lives in it.

That isn’t necessarily malicious.

But it can be ableism.

And that is an uncomfortable truth:

Ableism does not exist only in the non-disabled community.

It can exist in healthcare.

It can exist in medical education.

It can exist in rehabilitation.

It can exist in academia.

It can exist in employment.

It can exist in government.

It can exist in accessibility standards.

And yes—it can even exist within the disability community itself.

Every one of us can carry assumptions we inherited from a culture that has spent generations defining what “normal” looks like.

Even those of us who are disabled can make assumptions about another person’s disability simply because their experience doesn’t look like ours.

The good news?

What we learn can be unlearned.

THE MEDICAL SYSTEM MATTERS.

For generations, disability has often been approached primarily through a medical lens:

What is wrong with you?

How do we fix it?

How do we make you function more like everyone else?

But disability studies have increasingly challenged that framework by asking a different question:

What barriers have we created around the person?

The impairment may be real.

But so are the inaccessible buildings.

The inaccessible transportation.

The narrow doorways.

The inaccessible trails.

The employment barriers.

The insurance restrictions.

The lack of personal-care support.

The assumptions made by healthcare professionals.

And the decisions made about disabled people without adequately listening to disabled people.

That distinction matters.

Because sometimes the greatest limitation isn’t the wheelchair.

It’s the world built around it.

FROM THE CLASSROOM TO THE CLINIC.

Research on ableism has increasingly examined how disability-based bias affects health, employment, education, and social participation.

Studies have documented ableism as a social determinant of health. Other research has examined discrimination experienced by disabled children and youth, workplace barriers, disclosure challenges, ableism in academia, and the historical relationship between clinical practice and disability.

The common thread?

Ableism isn’t simply one person’s bad attitude. It can become embedded in systems.

And once it becomes embedded in systems, people can participate in it without even realizing they’re doing it.

That’s why disability advocacy has to be more than asking for a parking space or a ramp.

We have to challenge the assumptions underneath the system.

EVEN OUR CHILDHOOD LESSONS ARE EVOLVING.

I’m dating myself, but remember the old Sesame Street song:

🎵 “One of these things is not like the others…” 🎵

It was designed to teach children about classification and differences.

But there’s an important question when we apply that concept to people:

What happens when “different” becomes synonymous with “doesn’t belong”?

Thankfully, our understanding has evolved.

Sesame Workshop’s introduction of Julia, an autistic Muppet, helped move the conversation away from:

“Why doesn’t she act like everyone else?”

toward:
“Julia experiences and interacts with the world differently—and she still belongs.”

That’s a profound shift.

We don’t have to make everyone the same to create belonging.

We don’t have to erase difference.

We don’t have to make disabled people fit the environment.

We can change the environment.

THAT’S WHERE ADVOCACY COMES IN.

We believe accessibility isn’t simply about compliance.

It’s about participation.

It’s about being able to choose where you go.

What you do.

How you work.

How you travel.

How you recreate.

What equipment works for you.

And what your life looks like.

The person using the wheelchair should have a voice in determining what wheelchair works for them.

The person navigating the trail should have a voice in designing the trail.

The person traveling should have a voice in designing accessible travel.

The person living with the disability should have a voice in the policies that affect their life.

Nothing about us without us isn’t just a slogan.

It’s a blueprint for better decisions.

We don’t need pity.

We don’t need people to speak over us.

We don’t need someone to decide what our lives should look like because they believe they know what’s best.

We need people willing to listen.

We need healthcare professionals willing to learn.

We need educators willing to examine what they’re teaching.

We need businesses willing to redesign.

We need policymakers willing to include disabled voices before—not after—the decisions are made.

And we need disabled people willing to challenge one another respectfully, because none of us have experienced every disability.

MOVING FORWARD.

Advocacy isn’t about pretending we’ve figured everything out.

It’s about recognizing where we’ve gotten it wrong—and having the courage to do better.

Because accessibility isn’t the destination.

It’s a continual process of listening, learning, adapting, and changing.

The goal isn’t a world where everyone is the same.

The goal is a world where different doesn’t mean less.

Where a wheelchair isn’t viewed as a limitation to overcome, but as a tool that helps someone live.

Where disability isn’t an afterthought in design.

Where healthcare professionals see the person—not simply the diagnosis.

Where disabled people aren’t merely consulted after the plans are finished.

They’re sitting at the table when the plans and decisions are being made.

That’s the work.

That’s advocacy.

That’s the reason we advocate and support everyone sharing their personal experience and unique voice to ROAR.

And we’re not finished, Far from finished.

We’re just getting started.

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Mike Hudson. ROAR. Greg Traynor. Christopher & Dana Reeve Foundation. American Association of People with Disabilities. Challenged Athletes Foundation. Shepherd Center. Americans with Disabilities - the Largest Minority. Jeremy Kerr. Paralyzed Veterans of America. D.j. Haynes. DAV. Coy Varnum.

BREAKING BARRIERS ON THE WATER: AN ACCESSIBLE HUNTER PODCAST FEATURE. Hitting The High Seas!

One of the things I love most about co-hosting the Accessible Hunter Podcast is the opportunity to discover and highlight organizations that don’t simply talk about accessibility—they live it!!

Recently, we had the incredible opportunity to sit down with Paul “Bo” Bollinger of Chesapeake Region Accessible Boating (CRAB), and this conversation reminded me why these stories matter so much.
CRAB began in 1991 with a simple but powerful vision.
Founder Don Backe, who was paralyzed in a car accident in 1989, was an avid lifelong sailor.

After his injury, friends encouraged him to return to the water and rediscover the freedom and joy that sailing had always given him.

That personal journey eventually became something much bigger.

Don, his wife, friends, and supporters built an organization around the belief that everyone should have the opportunity to experience the freedom, independence, therapeutic value, and joy of sailing—regardless of disability.

Today, Chesapeake Region Accessible Boating serves more than 1,000 guests every year from its home at Sandy Point State Park in Maryland.

Through volunteers, skippers, crew, and support staff, CRAB provides sailing opportunities and instruction throughout the season, including family sails, group sails, camps, clinics, and regattas.

But what really stood out to me during our conversation with Bo wasn’t simply the number of people CRAB serves.

It was the philosophy behind what they do.
CRAB has worked to make inclusion the standard—not the exception.

Their goal isn’t simply to put someone with a disability on a boat and let them ride along.

They create opportunities for people of different abilities to participate, learn, take control, and experience what it means to be the captain.

That’s a powerful distinction.

Accessibility says:
“You can come aboard.”
Inclusion says:

“You belong here—and here’s the opportunity to take the helm.”

CRAB has also spent years serving wounded warriors, including countless events with wounded service members connected to Walter Reed and the Bethesda community.

As we listened to Bo talk about CRAB’s history, its future, and the people they continue to serve, one thing became very clear:

His passion isn’t simply about sailing.

It’s about people.
It’s about giving back.

It’s about creating opportunities.
It’s about looking at a barrier and asking:
“How can we remove it?”

That is exactly the kind of organization we want to continue highlighting through the Accessible Hunter Podcast.

We are constantly looking for organizations, individuals, businesses, adaptive recreation programs, advocates, and community leaders who are willing to think differently and find new ways to pour into the disability community.

Because accessibility shouldn’t stop at a ramp.

It shouldn’t stop at a parking space.

It shouldn’t stop at a door.

True inclusion asks what happens after the door opens.

CRAB is showing what can happen when the answer is:

“Come on in. Come aboard. Take the helm.”

I am incredibly grateful to Bo for taking the time to share his story, CRAB’s history, and his vision for the future with us.

I look forward to the opportunity to visit CRAB, see their incredible operation firsthand, meet the people who make it possible, and hear more of the stories of the people whose lives have been impacted by this organization.

Please take some time to listen to our conversation with Paul “Bo” Bollinger on the Accessible Hunter Podcast.

Listen for the enthusiasm behind his vision.

Listen for the stories.

Listen for the heart behind the organization.

Then follow Chesapeake Region Accessible Boating (CRAB) and see what they are doing to continue breaking barriers and creating opportunities for people with disabilities, wounded warriors, families, and underserved communities.

We believe that rediscovering outdoor activities and recreation shouldn’t be limited by disability.

Sometimes it takes someone willing to look at an old barrier and say:
“There’s got to be another way.”

Then someone builds the boat.

Someone opens the door.

Someone reaches out.

Someone says, “Take the helm.”
And suddenly, something that once seemed impossible becomes an opportunity.

That’s the kind of story worth sharing.

— Mike Hudson
Accessible Hunter Podcast Co-Host.

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ROAR. Greg Traynor. Paralyzed Veterans of America. Wounded Warrior Project. Tunnel to Towers Foundation. Mike Hudson. Jay Youngblood. Christopher & Dana Reeve Foundation. Challenged Athletes Foundation. Shepherd Center. Kevin Brewington. American Association of People with Disabilities. Americans with Disabilities - the Largest Minority. D.j. Haynes. Curb Free with Cory Lee. DAV.