In moments like this, advocacy is not about policies or procedures. It is about presence.

At lunch in a beautiful assisted living facility, four women were delighted. Five men were not. The difference wasn’t the food—it was history.

I grew up watching my mother fall—physically and emotionally—after surviving polio. One afternoon at a dental school parking lot, my lunch money became our way home and taught me something I’ve never forgotten about love, dignity, and resilience.

“I wish I’d gone to Hawaii.”

She said it like she needed to justify the mistake. Like being blind somehow made her responsible for wearing someone else’s clothes.”\