My husband, David, and I were the first VISTAs in Minnesota to meet and marry on the job. When we became VISTAs, however, we weren’t looking for romance.

David had already been on the job for six months at United Handicapped Federation, a grassroots action group serving the disabled community in the Twin Cities. When I arrived that July morning in 1980, after the director introduced us, he asked David to show me around the office. Right away, I thought there was something special about David. Both of us were shy, and it would take some time before we really got to know each other.

Before our VISTA assignments, David had been an accountant in St. Paul and I was an English teacher in Minneapolis. Each of us had come to a point in our lives and careers that we wanted to try something different. Because we were both disabled, David with MS and I with a hip injury that made walking difficult, we knew our employment options might be somewhat limited. Coincidentally, we were steered toward VISTA—and the same job site—by vocational counselors, who suggested that signing up as VISTAs might be a good opportunity to use our skills in new ways and also serve our country.

It was an exciting time at the United Handicapped Federation, and we loved the work. Although there were (and are) always those who thought people with disabilities ought to stay out of sight, members of the Federation made a point of making noise. They formed several committees to work on the most pressing issues faced within the disabled community. The issues included accessible transportation, building accessibility, employment, health care, and aging. It was up to David, me, and four other VISTA community organizers to work behind the scenes with Federation members.

We assisted them in a variety of ways, ever sensitive to the fact that disabled people, like so many minorities, must not be lumped together into one group. Each is an individual, each with his or her own ideas. Conflicts often arose about the best methods to achieve our goals. Everyone agreed, however, that our first priority was to educate the public. We wanted people to know that the issues of the disabled were immediate and urgent. And these issues could affect anyone at any age, at any instant—a motorcyclist without a helmet suffers brain damage after an accident, a factory worker loses a limb to machinery, a child is paralyzed by a fall from a diving board, a senior citizen is blinded by macular degeneration.

We VISTAs helped Federation members organize public demonstrations at the state capitol in St. Paul. We prepared members for interviews with the media. Not only did we alert the media to cover these events, we also made sure that some of our Federation members, with a little coaching from us, were readily available for interviews and pictures, up close and personal. One newspaper photo showed a wheelchairbound citizen sitting in front of the stairs to a public building in mid-winter. The image spoke volumes. A television news crew truly benefited the cause by interviewing a man with a speech impediment who was turned down for a job despite his fine qualifications. Such publicity began to make a difference.

Meanwhile, as David and I worked hard on the job at the Federation, we began seeing each other outside the office. Unsure whether VISTA staffers at the same job site were supposed to date, we kept our romance under wraps.

In 1981, shortly before our VISTA terms concluded, David and I surprised everyone at the office by announcing that we had just been married. Once the news was out, we learned that we were the first VISTAs in Minnesota to meet and marry on the job. To celebrate this occasion, the state VISTA office held a reception in our honor.

At the same time there was a personnel upheaval at the Federation. As soon as David completed his VISTA commitment, the board at the Federation invited him to take over as director of the organization. He accepted. David supervised the staff, including the other VISTAs, and as soon as my VISTA term ended, I joined the Federation as employment seminars coordinator. We continued in these positions for two more years, always working toward the primary goal of the Federation: equal rights for the disabled.

Satisfied we were leaving the organization in good hands, David and I resigned from the United Handicapped Federation in 1983 to find new challenges. For three years we ran our own small bookstore until our business failed. David went to work at another local bookstore, and I was hired to direct recruitment for a large research project in the Psychology Department at the University of Minnesota.

The years passed and our VISTA experience faded into the past, remembered with fondness but no longer part of our everyday thoughts.

Then in 1998, David died of cancer. At his memorial service, several people spoke of the great service he had rendered to the disabled community over the years, and the memories came flooding back. I thought of how David and I had met as VISTAs at the Federation and worked together for common goals.

David and I never expected our terms as VISTAs to be a piece of cake—and they weren’t. Society often resists change and at times we found ourselves in the midst of turmoil. Any frustrations we felt, however, were far outweighed by our sense of satisfaction when we noted concrete evidence of change. During our VISTA terms, architects and contractors began to seek out Federation members for advice on how to reshape entrances into buildings, widen restroom doors, and remove barriers from public grounds.

Later, as we watched the development and implementation of a vastly improved metropolitan transit system that finally accommodated people with disabilities, we remembered all the Federation members in wheelchairs gathered in front of the state capitol. “We Will Ride!” said their placards. And we were elated when we learned that an employer decided to hire one of our members on the spot—a woman with cerebral palsy—after he heard her eloquent description of the subtle discrimination she had faced when seeking a job.

Although the United Handicapped Federation disbanded in the mid-1990s, there will probably always be a need for advocacy for those in the disabled community whose quality of life is threatened. And 25 years later, I recall with much joy how deeply David and I savored our VISTA experience at the Federation. I wish that every citizen could experience a similar opportunity to serve our country. In some small way, I think David and I made a difference.

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