Did I Go Overboard?

I didn't mean to. I was trying to use my waiting time in a productive manner. Reading, after all, is usually quite acceptable. Even in public. But did I do too much? Please, you decide.

I went to Portland this week to present information about Lutheran Blind Mission. Not only does LBM have the world's largest religious lending library of Braille/large print/recorded books, but they also have an Outreach Center in Portland. I was asked to talk about both of these opportunities, and to invite people to invite people to the monthly meals and conversations at the Outreach Center.

My contact person (PK) was on the phone when I arrived, so I introduced myself to a receptionist and took a seat in the lobby. I spent a few minutes reviewing data in my Wonderful Notebook of Information. (It never hurts to have the facts straight before you open your mouth, right?) The gal was still on the phone, but I had plenty of reading material with me.

Out came my Braille magazine. I got in the habit of carrying Braille stuff in my car when my kids were still in school. While I waited for the final bell to ring, I could practice my Braille skills. The only other time I practice is in bed at night, and after about ten minutes all the dots turn to mush. If I want to retain any skill at all, I have to remember to practice. Those synapses get lazy and forget how to fire if they aren't exercised regularly.

As I concentrated on feeling the dots, I stopped paying attention to what was happening around me. Except... I heard part of one whispered conversation as one receptionist told the other that I was there for PK's vision loss support group. Silence. I could feel eyes on me, but I kept reading.

Before I knew it, PK had come out of her office and disappeared to another part of the building. No one introduced us. I think it was assumed that I was a simply a client who would be attending the group. After all, only blind people read Braille by touch! It's likely that neither of the receptionists knew that PK had arranged for a guest speaker at this meeting. It's not that I felt disrespected, but it did seem like assumptions were made once I ceased to make eye contact and began feeling the Braille.

Assumptions. Ouch. I am guilty of making them. It was frustrating to realize that I became the object of assumptions, although I was able to act to change my identity very quickly. All I had to do was close my magazine and stride over to the desk. But there are lots of folks who cannot work so effectively to shake free.

This was an interesting experience of mistaken identity. But I have one nagging question: Did I somehow go too far, so that I insinuated actual participation in the blind community?

Dinner in the Dark, Day Without Sight

In the last two weeks, I've had two experiences with simulated blindness. First was a Dinner in the Dark, an event hosted by a church that's getting ready to open a Blind Mission outreach center in Portland. The second opportunity came when a home school family visited my library during their "special needs week" and happened to check out a Braille item.

See? There I am, in the background, in the spaghetti-colored blouse. (Rufus would have had a heyday cleaning up the floor!) The purpose of a Dinner in the Dark is to show sighted people how inept we can be without sight. It's effective, lemme tell you. Dishing noodles was no fun, but I finally realized that no one could see me so I might as well use my fingers to help.

Actually, eating wasn't the biggest challenge I felt. Rather, it was the disorientation of conversation. All of a sudden, a man's voice right above my shoulder said, "I'm going to take your plate to put the sauce on for you." Oh! Chatting with my neighbor was okay, but I made sure to point my head in her direction so maybe she'd know I was talking to her and not Mr. Deep Voice.

Thinking back, I guess it felt like I was in a bubble. I knew there were lots of people in the room, but I didn't have a sense of where they were. The sighted helpers' footsteps were silent, allowing them to appear and disappear without warning. (Also, the blindfold was over my ears, muffling the sound just a little.) It was kind of spooky. If I'd had more time, I would have been more careful of what I said and when, not knowing if there were other ears listening.

I've had one other dining in the dark experience. Several years ago, during my second conference with Lutheran Blind Mission, I put on a blindfold to go to dinner. Someone loaned me a white cane, and another person guided me through the food line. Again, eating was okay, but conversation was difficult. I could concentrate on my dinner or I could really listen to what was happening. Navigating with the cane was fine, because I knew the hallway well. When a blind friend offered to guide me back to the conference room, I relaxed and let him lead the way. I even trusted him not to walk me into a doorpost!


Back to the present. The mom and three elementary-age kids said no, they didn't have any Braille besides the library book, and no one to help them with it. Thanks to my friend's quick thinking, we came up with a plan for them to come to the library when I got off work on Thursday. I subscribe to a monthly magazine in Braille, and have lots of old copies sitting around the house. I brought one for each of them to use.

We talked about their one-day taste of blindness, and it was interesting to hear their perspectives on this experiment. These kids are confident, self-assured folks, and they approached each day of their "special needs week" with a can-do attitude. One day was spent being mute, another day in wheelchairs, yet another day on crutches or wheelchair, and then came the eye patches and sunglasses. Oh... a funny aside. One of my coworkers offered the family a tour of the library. It didn't dawn on me until much later that the librarian couldn't see their eye bandages because the sunglasses covered them! I'm sure she was not the only person that day who thought they really were blind!

One of the girls realized that she had never seen the room we were using. "I wish I could take my patches off just for a minute so I could see where we are!" That reminded me of when I lost my sense of smell. I said much the same thing, many times, wishing for just one more chance to get a whiff of my sons' heads or a new recipe or a wild rose. In my case, memory will have to serve.

There wasn't time for a full-blown Braille lesson (as if I could teach one anyway), but I had them search in their magazines for a full cell of six dots. That represents the word "for" and is, obviously, pretty common. A page of Braille is about equal to a third of a page of print, and that gave them a better understanding of why their magazines are so bulky. I read a sentence or two for them, using touch only, and did not wow them with my speed.

We discussed some statistics about the blindness community -- 70% unemployment, 18% Braille literacy rate, 60% unmarried, 95% unchurched. Isolation is very common. Towards the end of our time, one of the kids sank into a very deep state of (ahem) contemplation. His breathing slowed enough that one of his sisters noticed and asked him if he was sleeping. "No," he mumbled, sitting up straighter. "Just thinking a thought that needed thinking," or something like that. Hahahaha! The hidden danger of wearing eye patches!

Good opportunities for learning, for thinking outside of our own boxes, for trying new things.

Another Picnic, Another Adventure

Almost a year ago, I wrote about an interesting experience that happened at a picnic. That was then, this is now. New year, new thrills.

This year, I was thrilled to be allowed to borrow my church's big van to help transport friends up to the park. That was exciting, because at least eight of us (and one wheelchair) would be able to ride together instead of several of them taking separate public transport vans. This would give us time to talk and make each other laugh. In addition to this, I was also asked to help transport city bus riders to and from a bus stop at the bottom of the hill. Great! I've got a whole van full of seats!

Here's a photo of me driving the van. (I took this while alone, so no riders were in any way endangered by this photograph.)

I picked up six friends here in the suburbs, and we drove without incident to the park. Shortly after arriving and disembarking, I went with another lady to see exactly where the coming and going bus stops were located. Fine and dandy.

The neighborhood near this park is old, expensive without being pretentious, and beautiful. As I waited for incoming Metro buses, I enjoyed the streetside gardens.

A large group of picnickers got off the next bus, and I happily drove them up the hill. One more bunch came on the bus after that, and included was a man who didn't know exactly what the ACB does, but he heard there would be fellow blind and visually impaired people here so he came to check it out. As we went up the hill, I talked a little about the ACB and about Lutheran Blind Mission so he'd get a taste of what each group is about.

Once at the picnic to stay, I ate too much (same as last year), watched a game of tug-of-war (didn't participate this time), and escorted a few folks to the antiquated comfort stations. Yep, it's that park. While waiting outside, I enjoyed the flowers and the sunshine:


All in all, it was a lovely day. But what, you may ask, was the adventure? What was the one fly in the ointment, the ants at the picnic, the rain on your parade? The van, my friends, the van. Although my church uses this van to take children and teens and the occasional adult to various activities, I don't think it usually takes only adults anywhere. The step to get up into it is quite high, and the seats are very close together and run just a few inches short of the side door. Getting into and moving inside of this vehicle should not be attempted by the faint of heart. Not only that, but anyone with a mobility issue is going to have a heck of a time of it.

Sigh.

It seemed like such a good idea.

In spite of that, I had a lot of fun, and I hope my friends did, too.

Memory Stones, Indeed!

Erin, you nailed it. The item I purchased in bulk at the dollar store was a bag of semi-polished rocks. They're small, they come in different shapes and colors, they're pretty, and it's unlikely that anyone would already have one in his/her pocket.

The convention was excellent. The highlight for me (aside from doling out rocks and talking with lots of people) is the business meeting on Saturday. The democratic process is alive and well in the American Council of the Blind, and it's cool to experience it. I'm blessed with an abstract-random learning style, so it amazes me that there are folks who know Robert's Rules of Order inside and out. I was relieved to hear that, at the national conventions, ACB hires a parliamentarian consultant to keep things in order.

At the business meeting, the really cool thing is the voting method. Accessible ballots at their finest! Each member is given a few slips of paper and a nail. When a vote is to be taken, the names of candidates are announced in alphabetical order. A vote for the first candidate is noted by punching a single hole through a piece of paper. The second name would require two holes, and so on. All you have to do is use the nail to make visible, tactile holes in your ballot. Sighted guests (not voting members) are designated to collect and count the votes and report to the president. Even though this is a beautifully simple process, there were still a number of invalid ballots. Hanging chads are okay, however!

In the photo above, I displayed my notebook (anti-dozing aid), reading glasses, a few of my rocks, and the voting materials. Mementos of a weekend well spent.

In another post, I'll tell you about the perils of making plans for other people, and how close we were to having a stampede and riot to get off the bus.

A Penny for Your Thoughts?

Woo hoo! Road trip! I'm going to a convention this weekend, and have set a g**l to talk with every person in attendance. (I'm allergic to g**ls, so can't spell out the word. If you put an o and an a in the middle, you'll get it.) Although I'm a people person, I'm also an introvert and am naturally on the shy side. Because of that, I had to figure out a strong motivation to make sure I meet and greet as many of these 150 people as possible.

So... I went to the Dollar Store yesterday, planning to look around until I found something inexpensive I can give to each person during our conversation. It has to be cheap (there will be about 150 folks) and small and memorable. It took a few minutes, a couple of failures, but I came up with a wonderful plan.

I bought two bags, each containing at least 100 items, each of them a little different than the others. Can you guess what I got? They cost $1 per bag, they're small but not tiny, and no one else will be handing out anything like this. Come on, can you guess what I'm taking? Post your answer in the comments, and I'll let you know how it went (and what the goodies are) when I get home.

Day of Caring 2009

Every year, my employer offers an opportunity for us to get out into the community and do a one-day service project. Also every year, a friend who works for a state agency invites me to join her for a day of outdoor recreation. Finally, finally, because both of these worlds converged, I had to say yes.

The Department of Services for the Blind, specifically the Orientation and Training Center in Seattle, provides a variety of learning experiences for people who are blind and visually impaired. Their curriculum includes outdoor "challenge" activities such as hiking, biking, skiing, boating, rock climbing, and riding the city bus. (Oops -- strike that last item. It belongs in another section of the course.)

I've been around a lot of people who are blind and visually impaired. It has been my great privilege to participate as a student at three week-long conferences of the Lutheran Blind Mission. While each of those weeks involved a small group of 25 folks, I was the only sighted student. Those times were fantastic immersion experiences. Since then, I've attended two conventions of the Washington Council of the Blind, with somewhere over 250 attendees. People have told me I'm an excellent sighted guide, and that I come across as a very trustworthy sighted person. For all these things, I am grateful.

Although I was introduced at the Day of Caring activity as a member of the WCB and someone knowledgeable about the blindness community, I was reticent to appear as an expert. I wanted to watch and learn, and also help. What I was most curious about was how this group of sighted volunteers would be trained as guides, how confident they'd feel about guiding, and how the interactions would progress.

I'm very pleased to say that everything went swimmingly! The volunteers plunged into their assignments, the students from the OTC teamed up with their guides, and the activities began. The guides weren't overly hesitant, and it probably helped that there were clear expectations and a schedule for the day. I heard from the OTC students and staff how much they enjoyed everything and how pleasantly surprised some of them were because they had fun. I didn't get to talk with my library colleagues, but I suspect they would have said much the same thing. And it was fun.

One student freely stated that she had had no intention of getting on any kind of bicycle contraption that day. But, when the time came, she wasn't exactly given a choice, and she climbed aboard. Her guide was very steady and quiet, she said, until she finally gave up and let herself relax a bit. At that point, her partner began to give bits of commentary on what he was seeing. The longer they rode, the more she enjoyed it! In fact, when lunch was delayed, she was the first to ask to take one more ride before eating.

As I continue to craft fiction, my goal is to peel back layers of misconceptions regarding people who are visually impaired. It would be wonderful to write a novel that would promote understanding and discussion between the sighted and blind communities. There's a lot that the sighted folks just don't see, so to speak.

And with that, I'll get back to work editing my novel-in-progress. Thanks for reading.

"I Trust Her."

The plan today was to go to a picnic, socialize, play a game, eat too much, and go home. All of those things happened, but there were a few additional details.

The picnic is an annual get-together of three local groups of people who are blind and visually impaired. I'm not good at guessing numbers, but I'd say there were close to a hundred folks in attendance. I'm a member of one of the chapters, and was looking forward to getting better acquainted with a few more people today. I had also invited a guest.

Shortly after our arrival, one of my acquaintances asked if I could help her run an errand. She had arranged for some song sheets to be printed in large print and Braille, and they were ready for her to pick up... at the downtown Seattle Public Library. "Well, okay," I said. "But you'll have to tell me how to get there."

This gal -- I'll call her Hostess -- works in Seattle and is very familiar with the bus routes and streets of the city. I rarely go into Seattle except to visit two or three specific places. The traffic (and my tremendous ignorance) makes me nervous, as I assume that everyone else knows exactly where they're going and I'm only in their way. But as I said, Hostess knows her way around, and she promised to tell me where to go. Since Guest didn't know anyone else at the picnic, she came with us.

When we left the picnic area, it made me a wee bit concerned when she said to head south instead of north. But, I knew we had to get over a hill and to the freeway, so I followed Hostess's instructions and soon saw the freeway. Traffic got bad, but we inched our way downtown. Once, we made a wrong turn and had to backtrack, but then were right on target.

"There's a passenger drop-off just up here by the door," Hostess told me. "If you leave your flashers on, you can wait here."

"Sounds good," I replied. "If I have to move, I'll circle the block and come back here to meet you."

Simple, right? She got me where we needed to be, and all that Guest and I had to do was wait.

And wait.

And... wait.

Honestly, I didn't look at my watch once, but I think we waited more than an hour. Seriously. No one came to tow my car or give me a ticket, so I kept my emergency flashers on and waited. This is the interesting part of the story.

Since we had been led to believe that this was a simple errand, Guest and I both assumed that Hostess would be gone about ten minutes. When we'd been there for half an hour, Guest began to wonder aloud what was wrong. Now, I don't know Guest well enough to know if she was serious, but she asked me if I thought Hostess had had a medical emergency. I thought that was kind of far-fetched, but it could happen. Since I hadn't heard any sirens, I assured Guest that our friend was probably fine. Then Guest worried that Hostess had gotten lost or gone out another door or had gotten distracted and forgot we were waiting for her. Guest even suggested that we should go look for her to see what was the matter. She was serious, and that's when I finally got perturbed.

"Guest, none of those things have happened. I trust Hostess, and she would not forget us or get distracted. She knows this city and this library much better than I do, so she's not lost. If we park the car somewhere to go look for her, I don't know where to begin looking. Maybe the person who was giving her the papers is busy, or maybe the papers got moved and they're trying to find them. But I trust Hostess, and she'll be back."

People think I'm patient. Maybe I am, but mostly it's just that I don't take ownership of problems that aren't my own. Sure, we were missing the picnic, but there was a good reason for it. Maybe those song sheets were important, maybe not, but that wasn't my decision. As we waited and waited in the car, I pondered the little building blocks that had led me to trust Hostess and make this trip:

* Hostess is very bright and asks insightful questions. She thinks about the big picture and is able to analyze information quickly.
* Hostess had a hand in planning this picnic. She would not do anything to distract from the social networking purposes of the gathering.
* Hostess is fully capable of getting wherever she needs to go, and has obviously been to this library before. If she needed any assistance, she would ask.

Therefore, since there was nothing I could do to help or speed things up, my job was to wait. Calmly.

Sure enough, when Hostess came out of the building with Librarian in tow, she was full of apologies for the time it had taken. They'd had multiple printer problems (bad codes, ran out of toner, etc.) and they'd been scrambling to try to get the job done despite all those obstacles. Being patient and calm was the best course of action, and that's all I was responsible to do, except for driving the car.

Maybe I should have titled this post, "Minding My Own Business." That's one of the lessons I've been learning, but I hadn't expected it to be reinforced today.


P.S. Do I need to point out that the person who was guiding me happens to be visually impaired and has never driven a car? And I trust her.

Behind the Curtain

Although this story has been told in other places, it seems like it's time for a transparent update right here on the dogs' blog. Thanks for indulging me as I tell the story again... although, if you choose to slip away quietly, I won't notice.

Several years ago (like, maybe nine years?), I began writing a novel. Although I hadn't planned it, I'd already been toying around with part of what became the story line. One of the main characters happened to be visually impaired, and another character was recovering from an abusive relationship.

As work progressed on that first draft, I heard a preacher on the radio who had a ministry to people who are blind or visually impaired. It so happened that this pastor is also blind, and I immediately thought that would be the kind of professional I could approach to consult with about my fictional character. If anything were to come of my writing, and if the Lord were to bring someone like this across my path, then I'd better take the opportunity to check my work. If.

Several months later, preparing to travel to the Midwest for a convention, the Lord brought that pastor to mind again. My convention was to be in St. Louis, and the headquarters of that ministry was in St. Louis. Imagine that! A few emails brought me into contact with the Lutheran Blind Mission and Pastor Dave Andrus, and a couple more emails set up a meeting while I was in town. There were a number of small miracles, God-ordained details, that brought this about.

The more I heard about the peer-to-peer outreach and support modeled by the outreach centers of Blind Mission, the more impressed I was. Another ministry I'd been involved with used a similar model. One of the benefits I had seen again and again was that brand new leaders were trained in a "safe" environment where it was okay to make mistakes, okay to try new things, okay to find out what didn't work.

As near as I can recall without looking it up, that first contact was in the fall of 2001. Since then, it has been my privilege to learn more about Lutheran Blind Mission as I have participated in an outreach center and participated in three conferences. Those conferences were week-long immersions in blind culture. Amazing experiences. Affirming acceptance.

This weekend, I enjoyed being able to witness Pastor Dave presenting the vision of Blind Mission's outreach to people in my local area. It was good. I'm excited to see what God is preparing to do here.

And in the mean time, I'll keep writing.

Another Note About Today

I wrote this morning about my novel's character hating being recognized as vulnerable, limited, and dependent. Then, I added that these are qualities that no one desires, so this is a universal condition. I'll stand by that, but the brevity of my comments may have seemed to minimize the personal circumstances of some people, and I regret that.

While I don't want to be seen as having limitations, I know I have plenty of personal shortcomings. Like most folks, I try to cover them up so they aren't glaringly obvious all the time.

The difference between an "average" person and a person with physical disability (in this discussion, visual impairment) is that their potential for cover-up is distinctly limited. Orientation and mobility issues, for example, are part of daily life. Every day, all day. Further, these differences between blinkies and sighties are there for all to see. Therein lies the emotional, psychological, spiritual challenge of disability.

In seeking common ground, I don't want to minimize the challenges of facing practical obstacles on a daily, hourly, basis. Sure, I never know when I'm going to (figuratively) stumble and reveal something less than complete independence and strength. But my issues are not the same as those whose limitations are external and therefore more obvious to others, and cannot be hidden but may be overcome.

Thanks for listening. I hope I haven't overstepped my bounds.

Another Link

Double meaning intended. One of the topics I often read about is blindness. Last fall, I saw a book by Stephen Kuusisto, a professor at the University of Iowa. The title grabbed my attention -- Eavesdropping: A Memoir of Blindness and Listening. He is a poet, and to me, poetry is like GrapeNuts. I can only partake of it in small batches, and it takes a long time to chew. But, the batches I read were very interesting, and I mulled over each of them for days before reading the next one.

Mr. Kuusisto also writes a blog, and he recently posted a link to an op-ed piece he wrote for the New York Times regarding the new governor of New York. This reads so well, so easily, that I wanted to share it with others. In my humble opinion, it's an excellent but succinct introduction to the world of blindness. Please give it a read and tell me what impresses you.

http://www.nytimes.com/2008/03/14/opinion/14kuusisto.html?_r=2&ref=todayspaper&oref=slogin&oref=slogin