Written by Gazette staff writer Barbara Walters.

LOVE CONQUERS A MULTITUDE OF HURDLES

Joe and Lori Schmitt eloped so they’d never have to be apart again.

They took a county van to the courthouse, then wheeled over to Howard’s Liquor Store, just down the block from Washington Square co-op apartments where Joe lived, and bought themselves a bottle of champagne.

That was all five years ago, but sometimes Joe still can’t believe it.

"I hated commitment. I’m selfish. I was a drinker," he says.

What changed him at the ripe of age of 25?

"Love" he answers, looking at Lori the way rare couples still do, years after falling in love. You notice that look when you see them downtown, where they are regulars on sunny days, wheeling down the sidewalk, chatting. There’s a regal angle to the way Lori sits in her wheelchair, although she is virtually frozen in that position because of a rare congenital disease and disastrous childhood back surgery that locked her joints in place.

So she applies her makeup, artfully, with brushes and tubes secured to the ends of long dowels. Joe does her hair, rinsing in a tint of blond and combing it to her shoulders "like a California girl," she teases him. He dresses her, but she picks out her clothes.

A stylish headband matching her outfit is her trademark.

The way he looks at her is his.

"She’s smart," he says, which is no idle boast. Graduating with a 3.8 grade-point average from public school in Saginaw area, Lori earned an associate’s degree in accounting, using a voice-activated tape recorder to take notes, and now has a small business doing medical billing.

She types 40 words a minute with her mouth. She draws the same way - flowers with a Van Gogh-like vitality, faces with deep-set eyes.

Lori and Joe met at a friend’s wedding in Sturgis. "Party boy," she heard him called.

That night as they wheeled down a street in Sturgis with no sidewalks, a drunken driver careened into her wheelchair and she was dragged 50 feet, still in the chair. Joe had wept in helpless fear and rage. She’d been flippant. "Hey! It’s just a broken toe," she said.

"She has no fear of death," he says. "Because of all "I’ve been though," she finishes his sentence.

They’ve been together ever since. For Joe, it was the end of his drinking. Born with spina bifida, he’d gone through the Otsego Public Schools and then job training programs. But often a 20-ounce bottle of malt liquor seemed the only solace.

"It can be a lonely life," he says. "Drink and watch TV."

Lori changed all that. Joe is a certified word processor and does most of the secretarial work for the co-op. Lori heads several of the co-op committees in their building.

Once a year for a couple of days they splurge and stay at the Radisson Plaza Hotel at Kalamazoo Center, saving up all year. They gorge on downtown festivals, glorying in being able to stay out past 6 p.m. when public transportation ends. That and their reluctance to wheel at night ends their night life the rest of the year.

Their fears come from the very network they depend on to keep them alive, including medical suppliers who charge 10 time the rate for simple items such as wheelchair tires they can get at the local bike store.

"This year has been really scary for us," Joe says.

Still, they prefer to be positive about their life. Joe, for instance, is a member of the International Society of Poets, which printed his poem about his wife:

"If only we both could have more time," the poem begins, "Each second taken is like a thief’s crime."

Funny, how party boys can really be poets, deep inside, if you look beyond the surface.

This poem was written by Joseph Haans Schmitt to his mother, Sharon Bailey- Schmitt.

You’ve been someone I could turn to

When I needed someone there

You’ve always been someone caring

A quality that is rare

You’ve been someone I could laugh with

And share some fun with too

You’ve been someone I could count on

When times were rough you seen me through

You’ve always been special to me

You gave joy to many of my days

You made my life a happy one

In many different ways