Does Stumbling Disqualify Me from the Presidency?

Mitch Arnold • January 13, 2024

A current political commercial includes a video clip of a politician stumbling while climbing up the stairs to Air Force One. The clip doesn’t mention the stumble, but the clear intended implication is that a president who struggles climbing stairs is unfit for office. Maybe I just don’t understand how important stair-climbing is to the duties of the United States president, but this seems like an insensitive cheap shot from the campaign of someone who purports to be deserving of the office.


Before I step on any toes, I should point out that this post isn’t intended as a political piece. Personally, I don’t care for, and won’t vote for, either of the candidates who appear to be leading the race. My issue is with using a physical handicap as a barometer for competence, and it’s personal.


Though Joe Biden is nearly 30 years older than me, he is much better at climbing stairs than I am. In fact, I don’t know if I could climb the stairs to Air Force One, but I’m sure that if I were president, someone would figure out how to get me on the plane. Sadly, that will almost certainly not happen – not because I don’t want to be president of the United States (I don’t); instead, my handicap would negatively affect my electability. A guy with obvious mobility issues like me wouldn’t have a chance to prove that he was otherwise capable and competent.


Even though a septuagenarian and an octogenarian are leading the race for the nation’s top office, we are a society that equates youth and physical appearance with competence, trust and admiration. We prefer and admire those who seem to “have it all together” over those who have obvious challenges, like the elderly and the handicapped.


Such discrimination is really no one’s fault. We’re all chasing an ideal. We want to appear as young, attractive and successful as possible, because that’s what is constantly modeled in the media and entertainment industry. Because we rarely see the elderly and disabled in key roles, we don’t consider them worthy or capable, but that blinds us to the potential of those we overlook.


Ironically, if we’re lucky, we’re all going to become old, and when we’re old, we’re likely to experience physical challenges. Though the pharmaceutical commercials want us to believe that we’re going to be active and healthy until that day that we topple over into our graves, that’s not reality. It’s much more likely that we’ll face a slow physical regression in our waning years. We’re not going to be any less viable or alive, yet the world around us will start to write us off.


I occasionally experience that, especially when I travel. Riding in my wheelchair with my wife pushing, I see check-in people at the airport, and front desk staff at hotels and restaurants, look right over my head and address my wife, while ignoring me. I get it. Time is often short, and I likely represent an obstacle to smooth check-ins. I’m also pretty sure that most people don’t handle interactions with people like me very well, because they’re unprepared and uncomfortable, and they subconsciously at least, see us as less worthy of their attention.



Don’t be that way. It’s been my experience that some of the most pleasant people you’ll meet are handicapped and/or elderly. Engage with us. Maybe even show a little compassion. We’ll likely reward your effort with a smile and maybe even inject a little optimism into your day. Most of all, don’t view our challenges as an indication of our competence, especially if you want our vote.

Surviving a Collision with a Garbage Truck

By Mitch Arnold • June 29, 2025
I got hit by a garbage truck the other day, but was able to recover quickly, because it wasn’t the first time it happened, and it won’t be the last. It’s an unfortunate reality that everyone will occasionally run into a garbage truck through no fault of their own. (see ‘The Law of the Garbage Truck” below) One day I hopped in a taxi and we took off for the airport. We were driving in the right lane when suddenly a black car jumped out of a parking space right in front of us. My taxi driver slammed on his brakes, skidded, and missed the other car by just inches! The driver of the other car whipped his head around and started yelling at us. My taxi driver just smiled and waved at the guy. And I mean, he was really friendly. So I asked, ‘Why did you just do that? This guy almost ruined your car and sent us to the hospital!’ This is when my taxi driver taught me what I now call, ‘The Law of the Garbage Truck.’ He explained that many people are like garbage trucks. They run around full of garbage, full of frustration, full of anger, and full of disappointment. As their garbage piles up, they need a place to dump it! Sometimes they’ll dump it on you. Don’t take it personally. Just smile, wave, wish them well, and move on. Don’t take their garbage and spread it to other people at work, at home, or on the streets. The bottom line is that successful people do not let garbage trucks take over their day. The garbage truck in my latest collision was a prospect who I had never talked to, before picking up the phone and calling him about a position I was helping a client fill. Within seconds of introducing myself, his aggressive tone began to dominate. He demanded that I tell him who my client was and how much they were going to pay. I assured him that I would answer those questions once we determined that his background was a good fit and that he was interested in learning more. Finally, I offered to arrange a call at his convenience, when we could discuss the opportunity further. We never got to that point. After sending him some information on the opportunity, he repeated his earlier demands, this time through text messaging. In our exchange, I was able to determine that his background wasn’t a fit, so I thanked him for his time and asked if he could confidentially refer anyone. He responded by calling me a “god-awful recruiter.” I know that I’m a pretty good recruiter, and was fairly certain that he was a miserable person (garbage truck), but I held off on sharing those opinions with him. Instead, I just backed away, recalling “The Law of the Garbage Truck.” I wasn’t going to spend any more mental energy on him than I already had, and I surely wasn’t going to dump his garbage on someone else. Furthermore, I knew that my faith in humanity would soon be restored when I visited the gym over the lunch hour for my daily workout. Knowing that there are already too many garbage trucks wandering around out there, I try to be just the opposite, and the gym gives me a place to put that effort into practice. Because I appreciate friendly, positive people, I try to be one myself. I attempt to learn the names of the people I routinely see, like the front desk people, custodian and regular members, and I try to make connections with those who are receptive. And, I try to do that all with a smile, regardless of how I feel, even if I’m still stinging from a garbage truck collision. Per usual, the gym atmosphere didn’t disappoint. I exchanged pleasantries with people who expect me to be there at the same time almost every day, and enjoyed conversations that completely erased the garbage truck from my memory. Getting older has taught me that kindness pays dividends, and that even when it can’t save you from garbage truck collisions, it can certainly make them easier to recover from. Take the time to create a refuge of kindness that you can rely on when something like a garbage truck threatens to ruin your day. It’s worth the effort.

Acceptance vs. Resistance

By Mitch Arnold • May 28, 2025
I bought my first and only motorcycle in 1993. It probably wasn’t a good idea then, and it’s a much worse idea now, but that didn’t stop me from recently considering doing it again. I was only 23 years old and still in my invincible era, when I strapped on my helmet and rode off on my own two wheels for the first time. Understandably, a few naysayers shook their heads and voiced their opinions about me endangering a body that was already fraught with challenges; however, like I did often back then, I ignored their concerns, and was able to ride with no problems. To me, the motorcycle represented freedom. I loved being able to enjoy the open road. I even rode it on a thousand-plus mile round-trip journey to Sturgis for the annual motorcycle rally. Getting kind of smug, I began to envision myself as a life-long biker, but two years later, life intervened. I was moving half-way across the country and getting married, so the motorcycle had to go. In fact, I sold it to pay for an engagement ring, promising myself that I would buy another one when I was established and had the finances to do so. Things didn’t work out the way that I had planned. Fatherhood and home ownership ate up my finances and time, and a second motorcycle kept getting pushed down the line of priorities. Meanwhile, despite my best efforts, my body aged more quickly than I had hoped it would. For most of my life, my resistance to my physical limitations has enabled me to get the most out of imperfect body. Tell me that I couldn’t do something, and you could bet that I was going to try, if only to prove to myself that I could. That resistance allowed me to overcome significant challenges and to succeed when success didn’t seem likely. Lately though, as my limitations have grown and my sense of self-preservation has become stronger, I’ve been trending toward acceptance. Both acceptance and resistance are natural responses to change, and change happens to all of us, especially as we age. While resistance can challenge the status quo, sparking innovation and resilience, acceptance often opens the door to growth, fostering a sense of peace and adaptability. That’s where I’m at now, at least most of the time. Still, when my uncle told me that he was selling his motorcycle, those thoughts of acceptance were elbowed aside by thoughts of resistance. I began to rationalize motorcycle ownership and to imagine myself in the seat again, handlebars in my grip. I could now afford the bike of my dreams, and even had a spot in the garage to park it. I didn’t plan to ride it to Sturgis again, but I thought it would be fun to ride it to the gym and on quiet Sunday mornings, like I used to do. When I researched parking a motorcycle in a handicapped space, I should have realized the insanity of the idea, but resistance tamped down logic. My wife, to her credit, let me play those scenarios out in my head and gave me room to dream, knowing that logic would eventually prevail. And, it did. One slip-up on a bike, and I would suddenly and dramatically limit what I could do with the rest of my life. Accepting that reality was important, and I’m happy that I was able to do it. Being able to accept who I am – all of it, even the limitations – has given me peace and perspective. It’s not always easy to accept limitations and new realities, but it’s crucial if we want to live a life without regret, and I’m finally there.
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