Based in Sydney, Australia, Foundry is a blog by Rebecca Thao. Her posts explore modern architecture through photos and quotes by influential architects, engineers, and artists.

Humans of The Swarthmorean: Dorothy Briscoe

Humans of The Swarthmorean: Dorothy Briscoe

Editor’s note:

On March 16, The Swarthmorean published the first of a series of articles about how Covid-19 is affecting people who are living with disability in our community. The piece was part of a grant-funded project, “Witnessing the Impact of Covid-19 in Disabled People’s Lives: A Web Archive and Community Newspaper Series.” One aspect of the grant is that researchers take oral histories from people who are the subjects of the articles, and journalists work (in part) from approved transcripts of those interviews.

When Dorothy Briscoe read the article that described her experience, she told her support person from Values into Action — a Delaware County organization that provides services and support to people with disabilities — that the piece had gotten some things wrong. First, she said, her experience doing piecework at the Elwyn OTC workshop for the disabled was not as positive as the article suggested. Second, it had not been staff from Values Into Action who had disappointed her by not shopping for the things she asked for, but rather staff from a different agency she had previously employed. Finally, rather than moving in with her sister, Darlene, at the beginning of the pandemic, Dorothy and Darlene had already been living together for several years when Covid struck. In fact, Dorothy moved in with her sister (who is also disabled, and not as independent as Dorothy) to help to take care of her after their mother died.

To help set the record straight, here is Dorothy Briscoe telling some of her story in her own words.

We are grateful to Dorinda Young and Lori Pinkney of Values into Action for helping facilitate our conversation, which has been lightly edited for length and clarity.


Dorothy Briscoe (left) lives with her twin sister, Darlene Briscoe. Photo courtesy of Dorothy Briscoe

Dorothy Briscoe (left) lives with her twin sister, Darlene Briscoe. Photo courtesy of Dorothy Briscoe

When did you move in with your sister?

When my mom passed 10 years ago, I had to take over living with my sister. I had to take my mom’s spot.

How did you feel when the workshop closed because of the pandemic?

I’m glad the workshop closed. Sometimes, when it was open, I liked to go there because there were people, I could be with people there. Socializing with people. But I don’t like to get up early and go there. I ain’t rushing back there. I don’t want to sit there all day, 8:30 to 3:30 and wear a mask — oh, no.

What did you do at the workshop?

A little bit of this, a little bit of that. For example, sometimes we’d get different jobs. Sometimes we were doing candles. I put the label on the front of the candle, and then I pass it to another co-worker, and then the other person turns the candle upside down and puts the label on the bottom. We teamed up with each other. Then we’d do another job after that. Then the other person would put the candle in the box. Sometimes we got different jobs. When there ain’t no work, we’d have to sit there all day [and not get paid]. 

You could be at home. You sit there all day and you got to bring like a puzzle book and keep yourself busy. Sometimes people be falling asleep at the table.

How do you feel about the Covid-19 pandemic?

I’m waiting till it’s over with, then I can move [out of this apartment]. I want a two-bedroom house. Because in an apartment, you can hear people making noise downstairs. In a house, you don’t have to hear nobody upstairs or nobody downstairs. With my own bathroom. And I’d like an open porch. You can go sit outside and be newsy. 

Can you talk about a place that you belong?

Physical therapy. They ask how you’ve been, how are you feeling. I only speak to certain people, I know their name — like Joy. I give her a hard way to go. Me and her, we got close. Sometimes she’d forget the routine we got. We go on the treadmill first. She’ll be messing it up.

I went there Tuesday, and she put this thing on my leg — this ice thing. And I said, “Ooh, it feels so good!”

Tomorrow’s the last day. I’m taking her some iced coffee. I don’t know if she does sugar. I know she likes iced coffee. I’m going to tell her I’m going to miss her.

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