Obstacles are often the stumbling blocks that become stepping stones to success.

Show me a guy with a disability, and more often than not, I'll see an industrious man with ambition hoping for a chance to prove himself. Lately I've taken particular notice of the handicapped. Not the amputee on the streets of Boston sticking his cap out for a contribution, but those with physical barriers who have not lost sight of their hurdles.

You'll see them delivering mail to different departments, doing office tasks, or whatever it takes, considering their capabilities, to be accepted by society. I find them in our local hospitals and fast food chains integrated into the employment world. During a walk through Career Resources, I saw about 60 of these special folks doing special jobs for special companies. To those executives who've taken it upon themselves to hire the handicapped, Bravo! They are getting their dollar's worth, but more importantly, they are building someone's self-esteem and making them feel they are a valuable part of the community.

I applaud someone like Mark Kalashian, who was raised and schooled in Haverhill and now lives outside of Boston where he works as a receptionist at the Disability Law Center. The 36-year-old handles upwards of a hundred telephone calls a day from individuals seeking answers to such issues as special education, employment, housing, Social Security and psychiatric care.

He was born blind, but made the National Honor Society at Haverhill High and graduated 20th in a class of 373. He was a member of the equestrian and Spanish clubs. Kalashian secured three honor degrees at the University of Massachusetts and hosted his own oldies radio show at Amherst. And his disability certainly presented no barriers to his work at the job he's enjoyed over the past eight years.

The Carroll Center of the Blind recently honored Kalashian with its Carroll Society Award, which recognizes outstanding achievement in the workplace by someone who's blind or visually impaired. Watch him negotiate the Boston transit system: Officials thought so highly of him, they appointed Kalashian to an Access Advisory Committee to find better solutions for handicapped commuters. Talk to him about his life and he'll be the first to tell you it's fulfilling and gratifying. His masters degree in Spanish allows him to be bilingual and serve a population that needs him.

"Sometimes I find myself moving in different directions," he said. "When I'm not on the telephone, I'm collating a project at my desk. I interact with callers and assist people with disabilities, like myself, to bring some good to their lives."

One autistic man I interviewed was similar to the character Dustin Hoffman played in "Rain Man." I found him by accident at a bowling alley knocking down strikes and spares. He was a talking machine when it came to citing sports information. His parents abandoned him and he was being raised by his grandparents.

When I first broke into journalism 40 years ago, my sidekick at The Haverhill Gazette was Chuck Snow, an efficient obit writer, and writer for other beats.

Chuck, too, was visually impaired. He had been working at the journal for several years, since fresh out of Marquette University where he was on the wrestling team. At the newspaper, the sight of him beside his Braille machine was truly amazing. He'd pound those keys, run his fingers along the tape, and type out an obituary notice with impeccable accuracy.

His mind was an encyclopedia of knowledge. Ask him for a telephone number and he'd spit it out. He was active in barbershop singing societies, was a musicologist, and was one of the best newspapermen you'd ever meet.

He wound up leaving the paper, worked for the Massachusetts Association of the Blind, got married, raised a family, and lived a solid life. People like Mark Kalashian and Chuck Snow have taught me something: Never called a disabled person handicapped.