Crossing the Border
By Lee Goldstein
It was 1950, and I had never been in trouble with the police until this year (except for when I was 9 and threw a clump of mud at a shiny black car which turned out to be a plain-clothes cop car). Yet in the next month or two, I would be fleeing from the California Highway Patrol with two ladies who were on the lam with me.
My dad had just read a Life Magazine story about an amazing university in California that was encouraging wheelchair-user enrollments, one of the first universities in the nation to do so. The article explained that there were curb ramps, classes which could be moved downst