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.

But, Could It Be Better?

By Mitch Arnold • July 26, 2026
When facing challenging situations, my go-to response is often “it could be worse.” It’s raining: it could be worse. We could be scooping this stuff. It’s hot outside: it could be worse. At least we have air conditioning. The “it could be worse” response is a simple and common way of putting things into perspective, summoning at least a modicum of gratitude and showing the absurdity of petty complaining. Unfortunately, it can also blind us to the potential of “it could be better.” I say it aloud frequently when I am with people, but I also mutter “it could be worse,” to myself when I am alone and struggling with my mobility. That simple phrase has brought me peace and acceptance, as I have experienced progressive physical challenges throughout most of my entire adult life. While things could definitely be worse, and I’m right to summon gratitude when negativity creeps in, I was recently reminded that sometimes things could be better, and if that’s possible, I should do everything I can to make them better. For more than 40 years, I have lifted weights five to six times per week, and that has allowed me to maintain a fairly active lifestyle, but lifting alone isn’t cutting it anymore. Despite frequent exercise, I have struggled to get around more than usual for the past year or so, and that has made my world even smaller. Despite this, I persisted with a positive attitude and told myself, “it could be worse.” Not until the discomfort and limitations began to prevent me from doing things I should be doing, like meeting friends for breakfast, did I consider the possibility that things could be better. Making sure that I realized this was my wife Lynda who had been on me to try physical therapy, since my primary physician wrote a prescription for it a year and a half ago. I resisted because, though I am positive about almost everything else, I was pessimistic about what modern medicine could do for me. I had done physical therapy as a child, and have undergone several medical procedures that did little to improve my condition and seemed to provide only frustration. How was this going to be different? But it was. After only two sessions and a daily regimen of stretching and purposeful movement over the past four weeks, plus the strength training, I have already improved my mobility. Stairs are easier and walking, less painful and troublesome. That has greatly helped my energy level, focus and confidence. Even when I fell and sprained my ankle a couple of days ago, the recovery was easier. While things could definitely be better, they could also be much worse, as they were for me a month or so ago. Had I not relented and at least considered the possibility that things could be better, I would have continued being unnecessarily limited. Are you unnecessarily limited? If you are going through a difficult period in your life – maybe your job or a relationship isn’t as fulfilling as it once was – consider the possibility that things could be better. Always lean into gratitude for what you have, but don’t let resignation obscure options for improvement.

Don’t Skimp on Experience

By Mitch Arnold • May 25, 2026
Recently, as occasionally happens when I watch the golfers on the course behind my home, I caught myself thinking about what it would be like to be out there again. Only this time, I also thought about the cost of golf, and began calculating how much I’ve saved by not golfing over the past 20-some years. Of course, I would rather golf than have the money I saved by not golfing, but due to a physical disability that increasingly limits my life, that isn’t an option. Thus, instead of fretting about something I can’t change, I comforted myself with math and tested my mastery of the positive explanatory style . With green fees, cart and the obligatory cold beverages, I estimated that each round would have cost me around $75. If I got out twice per month over five months of relatively nice Nebraska weather, I would golf approximately ten rounds per year, for a cost of $750. Multiply that by 20 years, and I’ve saved $15,000 or the cost of a pretty nice motorcycle. I used to ride motorcycles too, but haven’t been able to do that in more than 30 years. If I were still riding motorcycles, I figure that I would have probably had at least two during that time. Factoring in taxes, insurance and maintenance, I estimate that I’ve saved nearly $50,000 by not riding motorcycles for the past three decades. I also haven’t used a comb or paid for a haircut in nearly 30 years. However, unlike golf and motorcycles, that has nothing to do with my disability and everything to do with my genetics. Still, by avoiding monthly haircuts at $20 a pop, I’ve been able to save over $7000. I share this exercise with you not to try to talk you out of spending money on the things that bring you happiness, quite the opposite actually. You should absolutely do the things you love while you still can. In almost all cases, the money you spend on experiences is an investment in your life, and you owe it to yourself to get the most out of life that you can. Most of us, at some point in our lives, will lose the ability to do the things that once brought us happiness, and all that we will have left will be the memories. When that happens, we should cherish the memories of all that we have experienced, and look for other outlets to enhance our lives. Travel now fills the gaps once occupied by golf and motorcycles. With the help of my wife and some incredibly supportive friends, I’ve been able to visit some remarkable places like Charleston and Nashville, and enjoy unforgettable experiences, like a Green Bay Packers football game and the NCAA Final Four. Admittedly, travel gets a little more difficult each year, but that only increases my urgency to do more of it and enhances my gratitude of what I can still do, because I know that, some day, if I live long enough, I’ll be calculating the money I’m saving by not travelling. Television writer and producer Taylor Sheridan agrees, as you can see in this clip from the Paramount+ series, The Madison. https://www.youtube.com/shorts/tydIBHknM_s Don’t wait until everything is in order to invest in experiences. Accept the golf invitation. Buy the motorcycle. Take the trip. Prioritize making memories while you still can, because some day, those memories are going to be more valuable than whatever you have in the bank.