History, Humanity, and a Bracelet Sale in the Elevator

Some days you head downtown for a little entertainment and come home with much more than you expected. This was one of those days.

Mikelle, Torie, and I ventured into downtown Denver to attend FDR’s Very Happy Hour, an immersive theater production at the Denver Performing Arts Complex. We were looking forward to an afternoon of history, theater, and perhaps a little food for thought. We got all of that, plus unexpected connections, beautiful art, a bracelet sale, and, naturally, coffee.

The production brings Franklin Delano Roosevelt back to life in a most unusual way. Rather than sitting quietly in a theater watching history unfold, audience members are invited into the conversation. It offers humor, audience participation, and a chance to consider the life and leadership of a president whose disability was both a significant part of his personal experience and largely hidden from public view.

FDR was a complicated man. He led our country through the Great Depression and World War II, helped establish programs that continue to influence American life, and made decisions that deserve serious criticism. His experience with polio and his use of a wheelchair added another dimension to his leadership, even as he worked to keep much of that disability out of the public eye.

As someone who has spent much of my life working alongside people with disabilities, I found that contradiction particularly interesting. Here was a man whose disability may have deepened his understanding of human vulnerability, yet who lived in a time when openly acknowledging disability was considered a political liability.

How much has changed? And how much hasn’t?

We still live in a world where people with disabilities are too often judged by what others assume they cannot do rather than by the experiences, talents, and perspectives they bring to the table.

I appreciated this production’s willingness to explore complicated truths. Leadership is rarely tidy. History certainly isn’t. We can recognize someone’s accomplishments while acknowledging their mistakes, and we can learn from both.

And sometimes, the most interesting learning happens between generations.

Complicated Honesty Across Generations

One of my favorite parts of the afternoon was watching Torie, a member of Gen Z and part of Mikelle’s support team, become completely engaged in the history unfolding before us.

Torie was particularly taken with what I would call the production’s complicated honesty. Here was Franklin Roosevelt, a president who helped guide America through the Great Depression and World War II, whose leadership brought hope and stability to millions of Americans. Yet his story also includes decisions that caused tremendous harm.

One of those was Executive Order 9066, signed in 1942, which led to the forced removal and incarceration of approximately 120,000 people of Japanese ancestry, including American citizens. Families lost homes, businesses, freedom, and years of their lives.

The production explored this painful chapter of Roosevelt’s presidency and the regret associated with that decision. It reminded us that even leaders whose accomplishments have shaped our country can make devastating mistakes.

What struck me was Torie’s openness to the whole story. The honesty about both great decisions and controversial ones.

I sometimes wonder whether we give younger generations enough credit for wrestling with complicated ideas. Torie wasn’t looking for a neatly packaged history lesson with heroes on one side and villains on the other. They wanted to understand how someone could do so much good and still make a decision that violated the rights of so many people.

And isn’t that exactly why we need history?

Not to excuse the past or erase its accomplishments, but to understand it well enough to make better decisions in the future.

Three generations, sharing an afternoon at the theater, discovering that history still has plenty to teach us. That alone was worth the trip downtown.

A Little Culture Along the Way

Before we even settled into the theater experience, the Denver Performing Arts Complex offered another unexpected treat. A wonderful display of Día de Muertos figures filled the space with color, creativity, and cultural richness.

The intricate figures and vibrant colors were captivating. Día de Muertos, or Day of the Dead, is a Mexican tradition that honors loved ones who have died and celebrates their memories through art, family gatherings, and remembrance.

It was especially lovely to encounter this celebration of life, memory, and connection on our way to a production about history and humanity.

We took some terrific photos, and I hope they capture even a fraction of the beauty we experienced.

It reminded me that community life offers opportunities to encounter cultures, traditions, and ideas beyond our everyday routines. Sometimes all we have to do is show up.

And Then There Were the Bracelets

Of course, no Shining Beautiful adventure would be complete without Mikelle finding a chance to share her creativity.

After the performance, she gave two of her handmade bracelets to the actors. I love these moments because her bracelets are more than colorful accessories. They are little pieces of Mikelle’s personality, creativity, and entrepreneurial spirit, traveling out into the world and making connections.

And apparently, Mikelle wasn’t finished conducting business for the day.

While riding in the elevator, she sold another bracelet to a fellow patron!

Now, that is what I call community-based entrepreneurship.

No elaborate marketing campaign. No scheduled sales event. Just a woman, her artwork, a conversation, and someone who appreciated what she had created.

For years, we have talked about employment, community inclusion, and the importance of people with disabilities having opportunities to contribute economically and socially. Sometimes those conversations get buried beneath service definitions, funding formulas, and government regulations.

And sometimes the whole concept comes to life in an elevator.

Mikelle wasn’t participating in a specially designed disability activity. She was out enjoying the arts, connecting with people, giving gifts, and making a sale.

She was simply living her life.

Community Is Something We Create Together

One message I carried away from FDR’s Very Happy Hour was the importance of bringing people together, even when our experiences and perspectives differ.

That message feels particularly relevant today.

We are navigating a time when resources for people with disabilities are increasingly uncertain. Families worry about budget cuts, services are under scrutiny, and the future can feel unsettling.

But I keep returning to something I have believed for decades: community is not a program. It is a collection of relationships, opportunities, shared experiences, and people who recognize one another’s value.

Government services can provide essential support that makes participation possible. We cannot pretend otherwise. But the life those services help support happens in places like theaters, galleries, coffee shops, neighborhood businesses, and yes, even elevators.

That is where belonging becomes real.

And I think about Torie, too. As a young member of Mikelle’s support team, they are part of a generation that will inherit both the accomplishments and the unfinished work of those who came before them.

Our afternoon reminded me that community building isn’t only about connecting people with places. It is also about connecting generations, sharing experiences, and making room for conversations that challenge our thinking.

There is something hopeful about that.

Coffee, Laughter, and a Life Well Lived

We ended our adventure the way so many of our best days end, with coffee and lots of laughter.

We talked about the production, admired our photos, and celebrated Mikelle’s unexpected business success. It was a wonderful reminder that some of life’s richest experiences don’t require extraordinary plans. They require curiosity, access, a little flexibility, and the willingness to venture beyond our usual routines.

I left thinking about FDR, his complicated legacy, and the importance of leadership that recognizes every person’s dignity and potential.

I also left appreciating Torie’s willingness to engage with history not as a collection of dates and famous names, but as a living conversation about decisions, consequences, and the responsibility we share for what happens next.

But perhaps the day’s simplest lesson belonged to Mikelle.

She went downtown to enjoy a play. She experienced history, appreciated another culture, connected with artists, shared her own artwork, made a sale, and enjoyed coffee with people she loves.

Nothing extraordinary, perhaps, to someone looking in from the outside.

But to me, it was another beautiful example of what we have been working toward all these years.

A good life. A connected life. A life filled with opportunities to contribute, participate, and belong.

And if you can sell a bracelet in the elevator along the way, so much the better.

Keep shining beautifully.