- Obviously I started at Hope House when I was 12.

(audience laughing) People with intellectual and developmental disabilities predominantly live with their families or in congregate and segregated arrangements such as institutions, facilities, nursing homes and group homes.

In 1984, Hope House Foundation made a major decision.

We decided we were not gonna segregate people anymore based on a pretend label.

It'd be like me saying to you guys, everybody wearing eyeglasses, raise your hands.

Y'all are gonna live together.

You got the same disability.

Really, we'll get the Lions Club involved too.

(audience laughing) Big print newspapers.

But what I learned about home was through this process of closing all of those group homes and people with disabilities, finding their own home with their own key and their own life.

One story I wanna tell you about is about Marilyn and Earl.

They lived in separate group homes, but they had a love affair for over two decades.

Now, they didn't see each other very much.

I mean, sometimes we were short staffed and you know, transportation was an issue, but their love never wavered.

So when we started closing those group homes, they finally were able to say, we wanna get married.

Well, that's when we discovered in Virginia, I mean, I don't know if you guys know this, but isn't always progressive, and like, go figure.

So the registrar was saying, well, they weren't competent to say I do to each other.

Well, they were competent enough to love each other for two decades.

So we definitely fought that one and won.

And I walked Marilyn down the aisle.

So when they got their home together, they invited me over and I walked in and the first thing I noticed, I felt a bit awkward, was every seat in the living room and their couch had large photos of their wedding day just leaning against the cushions.

And I could see there was pictures on the wall too.

So I said to Marilyn, where should I sit?

She said, there's plenty of places to sit right here.

I go, but you got pictures everywhere.

She goes, well, just pick it up.

Put it in your lap.

Okay.

So I did.

I sat there with a picture of them getting married in my lap, and I thought, oh, we're gonna have to work on this with them, you know?

And then I started thinking about it.

They decorated their house in a way, as Earl explained, that people wouldn't look at the pictures unless they had to pick 'em up.

And that represented to them the most important thing about their home.

Something they had waited for for over two decades.

Their love, which brings me to Yetta.

Yetta was institutionalized ever since she was eight years old, many, many decades.

And she did not speak or hear, she was labeled medically fragile because at times she would not eat or drink, and then you would try to get her to the doctor.

But she had never been in a car.

So she was very, very afraid of transportation.

The primary person that was supporting Yetta was a woman in her late 50s named Barbara.

And she came and talked to me about it, and she goes, I'm having difficulties with this.

I go, what, what, what?

She goes, I don't know who her people are.

I go, well, Barbara, look at the file because you'll see all her family are dead.

She has not had a visitor in this large scale institution for over 20 years.

There are no people.

She goes, hm, I don't think I can be much use Lynn.

I go, well, you're gonna need to try Barbara.

You're gonna need to try.

And so she did.

She went to the local Jewish Community Center here in Norfolk, and she started meeting people.

And then she made best friends with the kosher butcher.

And then she met another woman who taught her about kosher cooking and some of the rituals.

Because see, Yetta grew up in a very conservative Orthodox Jewish household.

But in the institution, that wasn't ever even spoken about.

Well, over the next 18 months, Yetta gained over 15 pounds.

She was never hospitalized.

And I went over there one afternoon, I didn't know it at the time, but it was Rosh Hashanah.

And I've gotta tell you this scene I walked into, I walk into the living room and there's Barbara.

She's got a yamaka on top of a fro sitting about here.

She's lighting the candles and singing at the top of her lungs.

(singing in foreign language) With a gospel tinge, I might add.

Remember Yetta doesn't hear.

And she goes through the whole ritual.

See, what Barbara taught me was when you really listen, when you really listen, you understand that knowing somebody's people is really important.

It makes us who we are.

That great tapestry, all of those parts come together.

But the most important thing that Barbara taught me was about home is where your culture, where your ancestry, where your rituals, your prayers, your songs, all of those things are yours.

And they belong right there in your home.

The last story I'll tell you about in terms of home has to do with Inez.

This was the last group home we were closing.

And of course, we labeled people even in our group homes.

This was our elderly group home.

So these were the folks that were over 70 that, you know, we saved for last.

Because, you know, could they live in their own home?

You know, what would the issues be?

So Inez moves into her place right here in a local neighborhood, the staff people stocked her refrigerator, her cabinets, everything.

And yet she still wanted to go to the grocery store.

She wanted to get a few extra things.

So that afternoon, 'cause I was a little concerned about Inez at that time.

I mean, she was over 75.

And moving into your home for the first time when you've been institutionalized and segregated and congregated and labeled most of your life, I just wanted to see how she was.

And as soon as I walked in, I was hit with it.

The smell of collards and fatback.

Now, if you know anything about that, you know it permeates every corner of your home with just a hint of fried chicken.

And I was stunned.

I was stunned for the moment because it flooded me with memories of my nana and granddaddy's house where I lived until I was eight years old.

The exact smell, the exact feeling of that anticipation for a dinner that was familiar, my nana calling out, run out to the yard, Lynn, go pick some mint for the ice tea.

It was astounding.

And I lost myself for a moment.

And when I looked back up at Inez at the kitchen, stirring her collards, she looking at me, I go, I just came by to, oh, see how you are.

And with the biggest smile, she said, Lynn, I'm so happy.

And see, I was too then too.

And it all came back.

See, what I think home is, is putting your stuff where you want it, for whatever reason, you want it there.

I think home is living your culture, your history, having any ritual you want.

And I think home is not only the simple things like a mess of greens on the stove, but doing it at your own leisure on the day you want, and at the time you want.

See, what I think home is, is choice.

And too often, people with intellectual disabilities are denied that choice, not anymore.

Thank you very much.

(audience applauding)