Born in Chicago, Illinois, Dr. James R. Harding, II has been a resident of Florida since 1991. Currently single with no children, JR aspires to enjoy the American dream of family life here in Tallahassee. Moving to Tallahassee to pursue a doctorate in education in the spring of 1994, he fell in love with the canopied roads, seasonal arts, and community values of the people of Tallahassee.

JR has been very blessed: he beat the odds by surviving not just one catastrophic spinal cord injury, but two (1983 and 1998). His neck was first broken in 1983 while trying to walk away from a school yard fight. Despite spending three-fourths of his senior year in the hospital, JR graduated on time with his class and went directly on to college at Wright State University in Dayton, Ohio.

After successfully adapting to the psychological and physical challenges of life as a quadriplegic, JR moved to Pensacola and successfully pursued a Master's degree at the University of West Florida, while simultaneously teaching in the public school system. Following the advice of his professors, he moved to Tallahassee and enrolled in Florida State University.

Once again, JR maintained a busy regimen of community involvement along with his intensive studies. He was active in the classroom as a substitute teacher at Florida High School. During this time, he also worked in the state Educational Budget Unit under Governor Chiles' administration.

On the verge of completing his doctorate in the summer of 1998, and after completing an unprecedented second term as a Student Regent for the state, JR had the traumatic experience of going through a car windshield at seventy-five miles per hour.The consequences of this auto accident included two broken legs, a broken shoulder, and a broken neck for the second time. Again, he demonstrated the same tenacity as he had fifteen years earlier. After only three months, JR returned to his studies at Florida State University to complete his doctorate in the spring of 1999. The recovery journey was greatly assisted by his fellow students, the FSU faculty, and the Tallahassee community. It was their cards, flowers, emails, and visits that helped fuel his recovery.

While this ordeal would slow most people down, JR is once again driving, water skiing, scuba diving, and working full-time for the Department of Education in the Division of Vocational Rehabilitation. Although he is living with quadriplegia, he is strong, healthy and actively involved in our community and the city of Tallahassee.

Family and friends agree that JR manages his time well to devote sufficient time and energy to each of his activities. He not only works a forty-hour week, but he also makes time for volunteer work. In his spare time, he is involved with community advocacy issues/leadership activities that include Leadership Tallahassee Class 19, FSU Alumni Association, Tallahassee Chamber of Commerce, Tallahassee Transportation Planning Advisory Committee, North Florida Spinal Cord Association and he is a member of his neighborhood association.

Because of his acute understanding of disabling issues, JR frequently helps fellow citizens with disabilities by empowering them to overcome their own unique challenges. He truly believes that an individual with a disability is equal, in every sense of the word, to a non-disabled person. JR has a long history of breaking down barriers and demonstrating the “I can do” philosophy.  A motto that JR has applied throughout his life in community service has been: “Always leave a situation better than it was when found.”

Believe

The bodies of men and women engirth me, and I engirth them, They will not let me off nor I them till I go with them and respond to them and love them…. The expression of the body of man or woman balks account.  The male is perfect and that of the female is perfect. –I Sing the Body Electric by Walt Whitman

Through great perseverance and courage, I have finally achieved inner peace.  No longer do I struggle with issues beyond my control, lash out at family or recklessly abuse myself.  Today, I am completing a doctorate in higher education, speaking publicly on disability-related issues, mentoring peers and serving as a member on Florida’s Board of Regents.  I am also evolving psychologically, emotionally, physically, and intellectually.

However, such an enlightened view of my life has not always been my guide.  My journey to the present has been a most difficult struggle, filled with tragedy, suffering, rehabilitation and forgiveness.  While my uncharted journey through life is presently satisfying, happy, and fulfilling, I am soberly reminded of the tragedy that took place on Saturday night, September 25, 1983.

It was my senior year in high school.  It was a time for happiness, opportunities, and challenges blended with social activities, friendships, and fun.  For most people, their senior year is an unforgettable rite of passage.  For me, unforgettable was an understatement.

The evening began with a date with my high school sweetheart.  Our dinner and movie plans went well and we ended the evening with flirtatious smiles and a kiss good night.

As I walked home, my mind was still on my girlfriend and the evening we had shared.  I was too busy dreaming to notice the two grudge-harboring teammates whose jealousy has overcome them, who were waiting for me.  Under other normal circumstances I might have fully engaged them, but that night was different.  In order to salvage my wonderful evening and begin my senior year without incident, I walked away from the potential school yard fight.  Unfortunately, this response was not what my attackers had planned.  Before I knew it, I was caught and body-slammed onto the hard ground.  My athletic reflexes would normally have sprung into action, but this time they didn't.  The impact had crushed my neck and severed my spinal cord.  I was paralyzed.  Unable to move, I lay helpless on the cold, hard dirt of the Indiana countryside.

A few days later, I was consciously aware of my physical powerlessness.  Thinking my condition to be a temporary one, I thought constantly about my future.  But before I could begin what I thought was the journey to recovery, I had to undergo the repair of my vertebrae.  This surgery would be the first of many.  Only days later, my stomach would perforate, requiring surgery.  Forty-eight hours later, my lungs collapsed and a tube was inserted down my throat to drain the fluid from my chest.  These complicating medical developments forced me to remain in the ICU for five weeks.  Each day, I wondered what I had done to deserve this nightmare.

Because I was so ill, my parents could only visit me for a few minutes each day.  Depressed, scared, and alone, I was unable to talk or feel and craved only to see the city, campus, and friends I had so recently taken for granted.  One night, as I lay helpless, a Catholic priest came to my room.  Instead of comfort this minister of peace brought to me a heart-stopping fear I will never forget.  After reviewing my chart, he calmly began delivering the final Catholic sacrament – Last Rites.  The look of dread in my eyes prompted him to suspect the imminence of my death and to speak faster.  Completely horrified and scared that medical science considered me on the verge of death, I realized my fate was in the hands of God.  Without knowing his effect, the well-meaning priest was slowly peeling away the only the only thing I had left… hope.  No longer was I struggling to walk once again; I was struggling to survive.

God was listening; my prayers were answered.  Slowly but surely, I began to heal – physically and emotionally.  By the end of the seventh week, I was healthy enough to be transferred to a rehabilitation unit.  Unable to feel from the neck down, I could barely move my arms.  I had no finger dexterity.  This horrifying physical disposition prohibited me from showering, eating, pushing my wheelchair or any other activity.  I was, in fact, hopelessly dependent on medical assistance – a state mockingly juxtaposed with my recent athletic condition.  My reduced physical prowess delivered a severe psychological shock.  Instead of relying on my about-average physical strength and skills, I was going to have to find a new source of courage.  Up to this point, almost everything in life had come essentially without challenge.   I now had to reach for an inner strength I had never before needed.

As I entered the physical rehabilitation stage, I approached the situation with the same zeal I had for sports.  Play to win!  I would strive to see how far I could go, not wonder how far I could have gone.

After three and a half months of rehab, I had made great strides.  I learned how to push my wheelchair, feed myself, brush my teeth, write my name, and drink without a straw.  These simple tasks were monumental events for me, similar to the emotional rush of scoring the winning touchdown or sinking the winning basket.

Life would never be as it was.  Paralysis affects more than just the individual.  Because I never doubted my family’s love and support, they caught the anger and frustrations that weighed on top of every challenge.  I had developed too much independence to accept the support and assistance that was forthcoming.  For me it was necessary to journey alone.

Learning how to care for myself was the easy part.  Learning how to reintegrate into society would prove much more difficult.  Where was I going to find good, caring, and responsible people to assist me?  Where was I going to get the money to pay these care givers?  Could I still go to college and follow my dreams?  Would girls still find me attractive?  Would they want to be intimate with me?  Could I find a place to live outside the medical community?  And finally, would society treat me like a leper?

At the time, there were no books or support groups to gain guidance from.  I was left to my ingenuity, creativity, and courage to reintegrate into society.  By the time I entered graduate school, seven years after my injury, I had finally begun to reconcile these issues.  I chose to be involved in larger issues and expanded my horizons.  One of the more satisfying activities was founding an organization for students with special needs.  In this way, I was able to bring a disabled perspective to the campus and help my disabled peers, demonstrating the abilities of the disabled and overcoming the stereotypes.