Famous PEOPLE Players

Famous PEOPLE Players founder Diane Dupuy. (Image copyright Famous PEOPLE Players)

Every year, it's the same thing. I start my Christmas shopping early, usually right after the kids make their way back to school. I do this for the same reason most early-bird shoppers are pounding the pavement, or rather the floors, of every mall in a 100-mile radius, right after Labour Day. There's a veritable smorgasbord of the choicest merchandise, coupled with the heady pleasure of shopping without the nail-biting anxiety of being stampeded on the way to the checkout counter.

Over the next few months, I spend countless hours second-guessing my choices, finding fault with almost every item. Miraculously, this year, I managed to avoid all that nonsense, and was amazed that perfectly acceptable gifts fell like manna from the sky. There's only one person standing in the way of my victory dance. My mother. She has told me more than once that the last thing an 80-year-old woman needs is more stuff. So, forsaking the usual trek to the mall, I went online, instead. My mother has a passion for live theatre. Why not give her the gift of a night out on the town? I reasoned.

After pouring over dozens of websites, I finally spotted the perfect gift: The Famous PEOPLE Players Dine and Dream Theatre. I've never had the pleasure of sitting in a darkened theatre to watch a black light puppet show, and neither has my mother, I'm certain. My curiosity piqued, I began to excavate the world of FPP. (One of my first finds was a blog that included a reference to "this video about Famous PEOPLE Players, arguably Canada's most successful puppetry troupe.") My knowledge of FPP was sketchy, at best. Thanks to Special People, a Canadian TV-movie I saw over 20 years ago, I do know that a young social worker (Diane Dupuy) had a Big Dream. Armed with little more than drive and ambition, her mission was to create something that would scream to the world, "Our lives have meaning and we can do anything!"

A unique black light theatre was born, providing the perfect backdrop to "integrate the developmentally challenged into society by toughening and strengthening our people to prepare them for the outside world." Dupuy was on fire to create a non-profit organization which would employ people with physical and mental disabilities. "Those individuals share duties in dining room management, arts administration, and theatrical and visual arts performances."

More than simply providing employment for the developmentally disabled, Dupuy set out to "promote, educate, and train them for the Famous PEOPLE Players dinner theatre and instill in the hearts and minds of everyone that dreams can come true when you believe in yourself." Dupuy was a force to be reckoned with, and although faced with tremendous pressure to give up on her dream, she forged ahead.

She walked the walk, and in her motivational speeches, she encourages all of us to "Dare to Dream, Reach for Excellence, and Believe in Yourself." For Dupuy, these are not just empty words, but a call to take action against indifference, intolerance, and resistance to change.

Famous PEOPLE Players is living proof that there are no limits to our creative reach, our dreams have no boundaries, and anything is possible if you dare to think outside the box.

We all have the potential to work magic in the lives of others, but we need to work as a team. "If you want to make a stand, help others make a stand, and if you want to reach your goal, help others reach their goal. Consider yourself and treat others accordingly." Confucius.

Famous PEOPLE Players would have remained a pipe dream had it not been for Dupuy's belief that the larger community is deprived of immeasurable gifts when the intellectually disabled are excluded from it.

It's based not too far from me, in Toronto, Ontario, and tours around the world. Christmas is right around the corner, as my kids never fail to remind me. For now, I can put my feet up on the coffee table and relax. On Christmas Day, my mother will not be opening yet another dust collector destined for the crawlspace. Instead, she'll be looking forward to a trip downtown, where she and I will sit in a darkened theatre watching a premier black light theatre company light up the room.

Dare to Live a Life of Adventure

I can remember biting my nails down to the stubs when my 15-year-old daughter went on a mountain climbing expedition in British Columbia, scaling frighteningly high peaks with other equally hardy members of Outward Bound. My nails got a little bit shorter when she later battled the Dumoine River on a whitewater canoe trip. And then again when she eschewed skiing in favour of snowboarding. On moguls. At night. I guess I should be grateful bungee jumping "from the skid of a helicopter into the gaping maw of a bubbling active volcano" isn't on her 'Top 30 Things to Do Before You Hit the Big 3-0' list.

Of course, I want my grown children to know one thing: life is meant to be an adventure, not an endurance test, or a game of mere survival. So one part of me is thrilled when they dare to seize the moment, inviting risk, change, and possible failure into their lives. This is every mother's nightmare, and yet every mother's dream for her children.

Over the years, I tried not to discourage my kids' desire to push the envelope, even when my motherly instincts were on high alert, and all I wanted to do was go back in time, back to a time when they were never out of my sight. But children who choose to colour outside the lines often show a greater than average amount of creativity, imagination, and courage. So, more often than not, I lifted my chin, threw back my shoulders, and learned to applaud their walks on the wild side. Besides, ever-so slightly dangerous sports were a perfect outlet for the adventure-seeking streak in them.

There is now an unprecedented array of activities for thrill seekers - and for people with disabilities, there are plenty of opportunities for experiencing high-challenge sports. According to AccesSport America, whether it's soccer, or skiing, water sports, such as "windsurfing, kayaking, rowing/sculling, outrigger canoeing, surfing, water-skiing, or kite sailing, or rock/wall climbing, tennis, and cycling, the aim is to create higher function and fitness for children and adults of all disabilities through high-challenge sports. Programs are designed to promote each person's highest physical and athletic potential while cultivating social and emotional well-being. They seek to create a community where differences are diminished, blurred and often erased."

As I watched a news report about a ski program for children with Down syndrome, autism, etc., and read about a man with Asperger's who swam across Lake Ontario, and the three men with autism that scaled Wales' highest mountain, it got me thinking about what it takes to climb a mountain, battle raging rapids, or windsurf across the water at full speed.

Aside from the joy and sense of accomplishment they derive from mastering a new skill, adventure seekers of all abilities experience the high of constantly pushing beyond one's supposed limitations. They are living their lives with gusto, and doing it from the heart. Sure, it's a cliche that life is not a dress rehearsal. This is the main event, etc. But people of all abilities just want to be included in this joyride called life. Life is short. So, as for me, I'm kicking up my heels, strapping on my skiis, and paddling through thrilling rapids. Yeee-ha!

I Have a Voice

One of my favourite things to do is sit on the deck and read a good book. I can't get enough of books, sometimes juggling two or three at a time. A murder mystery is in my car (it's unthinkable to sit in a waiting room without the latest P.D. James tome to distract me from an impending dreaded root canal); my old standby, Pride and Prejudice, graces my end table in the bedroom, and dozens more are scattered throughout various rooms in our house.

Books have always been a comforting presence in my life, as well as a pleasurable way to pass the time. Oh, let's face it, some women experience the 'thrill of the hunt' when shopping for shoes, or bling. I get the same tingles all over my body when I enter a bookstore or a library.

Thankfully, I've been blessed with opportunities to sit down with other book addicts and spend countless hours mulling over the good, the bad, and the just plain ugly in every great opus.

Imagine my excitement, then, when I read that a book club was developed exclusively for the intellectually disabled? According to Newsday, "five years ago, with the help of like-minded advocates and the Port Washington Public Library, (a mother of a Down syndrome man) formed Books for Dessert, a book club - thought to be the only one of its kind on Long Island - for adults with intellectual disabilities."

"People have always assumed that people like Jamie don't really have opinions on anything remotely complex," said his mother, Nancy Comer. "They're just expected to work and be happy."

Another book club was created in Ohio, called the Next Chapter Book Club. It was "founded in 2002 at Ohio State University's Nisonger Center and now has more than 100 chapters across the country (the U.S.)," said program director Tom Fish."

Hmmm, that's all well and good for those who are lucky enough to reside in areas close to these book clubs, but what about those people who live in the boonies, or for that matter, don't happen to live in the United States?

The more I read about this wonderful opportunity, the more I itched to create the same thing, here, in Canada. I reflected on how book clubs allow the participants to create a social network, and as Fish said, "even though people with intellectual disabilities are living with greater frequency in their community, that doesn't mean they're part of the community."

After Googling everything under the sun, I finally struck gold. "Seek and ye shall find," as my mother drilled into us as children. The Down Syndrome Research Foundation (DSRF) recently announced they're bringing the Next Chapter Book Club to Canada, albeit British Columbia. However, after checking out the contact list on the Chapter Book Club site, I found a contact name in Erie County, Ontario. Eureka!

I liked the site. It's warm, friendly, and doesn't talk down to the reader. And I liked the fact that "unlike any other book club, the Next Chapter Book Club provides adolescents and adults with intellectual disabilities the opportunity to read and learn to read, talk about books, and make friends in a fun, community setting. Next Chapter Book Clubs meet weekly in local bookstores and cafes to read and discuss books of their choosing. NCBC members range from those who read well to those who do not read at all."

If your local town or city doesn't have a book club, why not start up your own club? Adapted classics are available at every bookstore, or can be purchased online. As one member said, "I like coming here because I like to read history...and I like this group. I'm alive, and I feel great being here."

It doesn't have to be a book club, of course. How about an art club, or a crafts club? The list is endless. Let's just open the gates of our communities, and invite the intellectually disabled in. Give them a place where their voices can be heard. Because they have a lot to say. We're just not listening.