2012 Christmas Letter

One of the basic rules of theatre is to keep the audience slightly off balance – vary the presentation. Shakespeare alternates comic and tragic scenes and some even argue that commercials on television can play the same role. Not so sure about that – but certainly when I was teaching one of my basic approaches was to keep switching topics and approaches so the young men would never get complacent. So in approaching this end of the year Christmas “What HAS Sheehan been doing?” letter, I thought a varied approach might be interesting.

So while generally chronological, there are some times when I will focus on one activity, one event, one project, which may encompass a longer chronological period. Like the motorcycle accident and the subsequent results (“Motorcycle accident? WHAT Motorcycle accident?!?!?”) See? There might even be some surprises. (Of course, the careful reader might also notice that perhaps God is following the same philosophy with respect to MY life – the Three Person of the Trinity saying to one another, “Let’s keep Sheehan off balance.”) And some of the major moments have longer and more detailed stories earlier in the blog.

Starting in January but continuing through May, I did a lot of talks on behalf of the Xavier Society for the Blind at Rotary Clubs, the Optimist Club, Kiwanis Clubs, Knights of Columbus meetings, high schools – anywhere there was a group who wanted a speaker. I talk about being blind, the basic of some of the training that is available, what the Xavier Society does and anything else that was relevant. It was always fun when I would pull up in a car, get out, take my long white cane out of the back seat and head off down the block. Or walking up to a car with my cane, put the cane in the back seat and driving off. More than once I saw people with very puzzled looks.

But also more than once I had someone come up to me to tell me that they had a cousin, a sister, a friend, someone they knew who was blind or going blind or with limited vision and didn’t know where to turn. We’ve only been around since 1900, and we’ve done a mailing to every single parish in the United States and I regularly hear “Gee, I never knew you existed!” (My comment to myself at those moments is not recorded.) 

January was the month when Tony Amato died, founded and director of the Amato Opera. I went out to his funeral, and ended up delivering the homily. I had the pleasure of attending a concert at Carnegie Hall at which Jessica Bachicha0 sang, a gorgeous singer (and a gorgeous young woman) I had met through the NFB. Oh yes, she’s blind – but doesn’t really have anything to do with her gorgeous singing. And as I was looking through the calendar for last year, I realized – starting in January – that I had a LOT of friends singing and acting and appearing in stuff.

 

February I kept on doing talks to groups, the Notre Dame of NY held our annual Universal Notre Dame Night at the Union Leaguer Club, Catholic War Veterans had their chapter convention and a dinner (my memory is that I have sung a song or two), and the President’s Dinner at the New York Athletic Club which is always a major event. But without contest, the highlight of the month was going to Rome for the installation of new Cardinals, and I knew two of them – Tim Dolan of New York, and Ed O’Brien of Baltimore and then Rome, who was head of the Military Archdiocese when I was a chaplain at Kwajalein, so technically he was my boss. Earlier in this blog there is a longer telling of that trip, which was very moving.

 

Jean French and May Moss
at a Thanksgiving celebration

March  – Usually March has St. Patrick’s Day as the major focus, and since I’ve been back, that includes marching in the parade. This year I did it twice. I marched with the Catholic War Veterans, and since the parade focused on honoring vets, we were near the front. As we neared the end of the march, I peeled off, went back down to 44^th Street, changed my jacket and hat, and march the route again with the Notre Dame Club of NY. Rob French was perhaps my best friend in my life, and he died when I was in Nigeria. His mother was a great friend, and spent the last several years living with her other son in California. She died, and there was a memorial service for her down in Princeton. The Board of the Xavier Society for the Blind had been talking about making some major changes, and in March we had several meetings with some people at  Fordham who helped guide us with personnel details. 

Les Lieber celebrates 100 years

I also sometimes have been singing with the Jazz at Noon group, and the leader and founder of that group, Les Lieber, celebrated his  birthday party in March. His 100^th birthday and at the 3-hour party, Les played for most of the afternoon. And the adjutant  of our American Legion post and a good friend, Joel Viders, died and I was asked to do the funeral. Joel was Jewish, his wife is Catholic, so at the funeral parlor I did a service that was mostly Jewish, in Hebrew and English, and at the cemetery I did a more Catholic service. And finally, I spent several days in Atlanta,  visiting another old friend. I hadn’t been back to Atlanta since I worked there doing dinner theatre, and it was a great trip. I even got to sing with a church choir in rehearsal.

April of 2012 included Easter celebrations at St. Malachy’s, the Actors Chapel, and a meeting in Baltimore at the National Federation of the Blind in Baltimore. I also got to go to a ball game when I was in Baltimore. The Orioles lost but it was a good game. I got to see Death of A Salesman with a godson who is building a life in theatre as a dramaturg (He’s currently studying in Ireland). The national commander of the American Legion was at a special dinner at the NY Athletic Club – he had spent half a day at the XSB before he took the office so he knows me. Blue Hill Troupe did a production of Utopia Limited, a production that many G&S fans have never seen. I was asked to step in at the last minute and organize the ushers and run the house, which I did, I sang and invoked at the anniversary dinner for the Women’s National Republic Club and got to see a dress rehearsal of an opera at the Met. Last year I gave the invocation at the Kelly Cares Foundation dinner at the Waldorf, with Lou Holtz, Ara Parseghian, Regis Philbin and of course, Coach Kelly. They asked me again this year but I had already accepted an invitation from the Navy League for the same evening. Fortunately the two events were both at the Waldorf, so I checked the schedule, prayed for Kelly Cares and then headed up to the Starlight Room for event #2. At the NY Athletic we had an event hosting both of the new cardinals, which I had a small hand in helping put together, and I spent some time during the month alerting some people of what we were planning at the XSB.

May – May was truly a month of lights and shadows. The great shadow was telling people their jobs were going to cease to exist. Six of them had 134 years of service together. We also made public the decision to sell the building and decided on a real estate agent. A friend took me to see ONCE as a birthday gift, and there were celebrations at Princeton Day School, the Friendly Sons of St. Patrick, and the Christopher Awards ceremony, where I sang for a bit and got to kiss the woman who gave Elvis his first on screen kiss. (She is now a nun!)

Yes,  this is the woman who gave Elvis
his first on-screen kiss

 I went back to Rome,  to give a paper at a Vatican Conference in Rome about the blind. I also had the opportunity to present a two-volume leather-covered braille edition of the Gospels to the Holy Father.  

I was invited to preside at a wedding in Newport Rhode Island over Memorial Day weekend, and it was a truly wonderful event, with delightful people, a gorgeous hotel (complete with a porch where one could smoke a cigar and a rehearsal dinner cruise and a small chapel for the wedding itself.)

June – Several friends died in June, and I got to take a tour of a cruise ship with a group of blind people, looking at the ship and how a blind person gets about. I continued to help out at St. Malachy’s, the Actors’ Chapel, and I went down to Baltimore for a meeting at the National Federation of the Blind (and got to sneak in a game at the ball park). 

Post Commander Sean Powers
at the flag retirement 

The Biker Priest

I took part in the annual flag retirement ceremony with the American Legion, and since I was hoping to ride with the Legion Riders to the national convention, I thought I would be wise and prudent and smart and take a couple of lessons to sharpen up old motorcycle skills. So I signed up for a series of lessons, and on the first day, while practicing U-turns, I got going a little fast which means I was a little wide and I hit the curb. Off the bike and onto my shoulder, where, as a later MRI pointed out, I tore ligaments and tendons. I spent the rest of the day at the emergency room, discovering whole new dimensions of pain and the wonders of morphine. Surgery was scheduled for later in July, and on June 28 I was off to Dallas for the national convention of the National Federation of the Blind. I was wearing a sling, which meant I got preferential treatment in seating but special attention at airport security.

The convention is one of the highlights of each year, three thousand blind people of all ages coming together to share their experiences and their wisdom and have great fun. It’s a marvelous experience and I look forward to it every year. There was a wonderful opening ceremony put together by the National Association of Blind Veterans,  and I was invited to address the whole convention.

July – I left Dallas and headed up to Louisville for the national convention of the American Council of the Blind. It too is a national organization, but has a different character, a different personality. I celebrated Mass for the Catholics, sang in the Talent Show and was the head spotter for the auction. I got to tour the American Printing House for the Blind, and met a whole bunch of fascinating people. When I returned I had my surgery, and spent the next six weeks sleeping in a chair, wearing a sling and learning how much I use my right hand. One of our great Jesuits and a good friend died, and I had an interview on WOR radio.

August – Because of the surgery I had to miss the national convention for the Catholic War Veterans, but I was able to go to Cape Cod for the memorial service for the daughter of one of my oldest and dearest friends. I was invited to sing in the American premiere of a Donizetti opera (an opportunity I would have had to decline if I had not had the accident) and rehearsals started. A few more friends died and I started physical therapy, three times a week most weeks, 90 minutes a shot.

 

September – I seem to be talking about death more than usual, and a friend who was a poet and who ran poetry workshops made it to 96 and her memorial service was a gathering of friends and poets. I held a Blue Sky Day with the Xavier Society staff,  where we got to explore possibilities and ways to proceed into the future.

October – October was filled with rehearsals for the opera, Olivo, and then there was this storm. We had the first weekend of performances, and just got the last matinee in before the transport systems closed. We were closed for a week, weathering the storm, and trying to figure out what comes next. We lost our phone and internet connections, and as of this writing in January we still don’t have them back. At the residence, on 83^rd Street,  there were no signs of the size of the storms – if it weren’t for the television and Facebook we probably wouldn’t have known anything was going on.

November – Recovering from Sandy, the Veterans Day parade, (no motorcycle this year) and I got to concelebrate a funeral on Staten Island for a vet who died during the storm. The Catholic War Veterans have a promise that no vet will lack for a proper burial and we have arrangements with funeral parlors and cemeteries who have promised to donate their services and this was another in that series. I was invited to the Inner City Scholarship Lunch, celebrating a wonderful program that helps inner city students. The ACB State convention was cancelled because of the storm but the NFB state convention went off and I attended that. Two friends from England came over for a football game – yup, flew over, went to the stadium, we met for a lovely dinner and they flew back the next day. A friend who is a producer got me a ticket for Dead Accounts, and since things were getting dull, I had a tooth pulled. We had a very good meeting with Princeton Theological Seminary that may chart a whole new direction for the Xavier Society for the Blind, I gave the invocation for the Naval War College Foundation, one of the former crew from the Enterprise died, and the Notre Dame Club sponsored the Hesburgh lecture.

December – We started December with a party at the Xavier Society to celebrate our volunteers. We had Mass on the second floor and a buffet lunch and open house for four hours. 

 

  

I celebrated Mass at St. Patrick’s Cathedral on the feast of St. Lucy, patron of the blind, complete with a young lady with a headdress of candles, as is the tradition in many Scandinavian countries. 

I sang at a post Baptism party and managed to survive the Christmas season. Although I haven’t said Mass at St. Malachy’s since the accident, I did get to celebrate at the Actor’s Home in Englewood the last Sunday before Christmas. Some friends from California were in town and we had a traditional lunch at a Cajun restaurant, and I saw out the New Year at the New York Athletic Club, watching from a balcony on the 17^th floor the crowds down 7^th Avenue and the fireworks in Central Park. A friend gave me a television set as a Christmas present, and so I suddenly have a working tv in my room – which is kind of neat on the one hand, and really depressing, as I am reminded how few shows there are worth watching.

As the year ends I am still going to physical therapy three times a week, working out and being stretched and doing lots of exercises in between and while “better” is not always “good,” I am definitely getting better. The building sale is moving forward and we hope to have a closing on or before March 5^th. We have exciting plans for the Xavier Society for the Blind in the next several years, and if I could only win the Lottery….

HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!! 

More Pictures with the Pope

Since I put the original article on the trip to Rome in this site, I put the second round of pictures on the Xavier Society for the Blind blog site. There are perhaps 18 of them - for those interested.

Father John Meets the Pope

In May of 2012, I went to Rome. I had been invited to give a paper at a Vatican conference, and since they were paying for the trip, it seemed a good chance to try and present the Gospels in Braille to the Holy Father. The following is a scattered visiting of that trip.

Rome notes – in no particular order and definitely NOT strictly chronological.

Romans are like Africans – when they speak in public, it is VERY loud.

There is a roof top terrace at the residence, and the view down to St. Peter’s is gorgeous. Actually, the view in 360 degrees is pretty good, and I will go and take pictures. It is also where people go and smoke and once I find matches, part of this afternoon will be spent upstairs.

That's the view from the roof
looking toward St. Peter's

Of course everyone speaks Italian, and there is a lot of French. I have heard very little English, and since I have spoken French in passing to several people, no one seems to associate me with English. Each place at breakfast (for visitors, ie not a full-time resident) has a stand with your number on it. That way they can tell who has or has not eaten. It also means you don’t get to sit with and meet other people. Breakfast is buffet and varied – several juices from a machine, wonderful rolls, cold cuts and cheeses and fruit, cereal, yogurt, jams, coffee and tea – probably some other things I missed, but more than adequate. Foreigners have a much better sense of breakfast than Americans. Well – ok, I really like bacon and eggs and sausage and pancakes – but really good rolls and meats aren’t bad either.

The shower is wonderful and hot and good pressure. The door leaks. The heavy shade cannot be opened – maybe because it is too low, but the catch that would raise it and keep it open is missing, so it is hard to get air into the room. The clothes closet is quite tall, and the rack for hanging clothes is quite out of reach. But there is a pole with a hook on the end, so one can reach up and bring clothes down or hang them back up. The lights require your room card to be stuck in a slot by the door. That way you’ can’t go out and leave your lights on.

The trip over was gentle. I got to the airport very early. United sells seats with extra room, including exit row - $89 for the center seat of a 3 grouping, and $109 for all others. That’s all you get – a little extra room. And the satisfaction of knowing that you have helped increase the revenues of United Airlines. Because of the tightness of my schedule, I packed so that I could carry on my other bag, and to save the hassle I simply bought a small toothpaste when I went through security. Which, at Newark, continues to be a pain in the hoohoo. They were using the full body scanner, which requires everything out of your pockets, including pocket handkerchief and plastic comb. Some poor guy ahead of me didn’t speak English too well, so he took everything out of his pocket and held it in his hand, including money and several other things that need to go through the scanner. The TSA guys were just plain mean – rude and sarcastic and intimidating. Bet HE was glad to be leaving America. If he was. A violinist, the accent sounded Israeli but I couldn’t be sure. I thought briefly about intervening and then decided against it.

The seats on the plane were adequate and one of the best screen entertainment centers I’ve seen in a long time. It was on when you boarded, and you could play games and listen to music and watch videos throughout boarding and even during take off. When there was a cabin announcement, everything was suspended. One man several rows ahead of me started playing solitaire and except for occasional excursions into the trip feature (where you can see where the plane is on the route) he played solitaire for the whole trip. The attendant who did the English announcements throughout the flight would pause – and when she paused she would release the mike – which meant your video would start up for a second and then stop. Since she would pause eight or ten times for a routine announcement, you could lose a chunk of your video without being able to rewind and figure out what you had missed. I know – my grandmother used to say not to get annoyed because if they were any smarter, they wouldn’t have the jobs they’ve got.

Food was – well, airline food and fairly well down on the list of airline foods. Service was haphazard and not very good and the attendants were testy and not very pleasant. I haven’t flown United in a while, and now I remember why. Since someone else was paying for the trip, I can’t get too excited. But I will certainly NOT go out of my way to fly United.

We were 30+ minutes late in landing, and I was grateful I did not have to wait for a bag. The car was waiting, the traffic into the city was dreadful. On the way in I shaved and tried to call Ken –and discovered that, in spite of my making a special trip to AT&T to be sure my phone would work in Rome – it doesn’t. No text, no phone – nada. We went to the residence, where I dropped my bags, got the ticket from Ken Gavin and then went to  the piazza to try and find Marco. I had thought the audience would be inside, so I had said to meet me at the entrance. He wasn’t there – I walked around trying to spot him and  what should have been a simple coordination turned into one of those nightmare moments. Although it is not always the case, often enough things have a way of working up, and I found myself working my way up to the front of the piazza. 

The audience area is at the top of the steps leading up to St. Peter’s, with a covered area where the Holy Father sits. I kept showing my ticket and kept getting moved up until I was at the formally dressed usher level. There was one row of chairs along the side of the covered area where the Holy Father sits, and I was shown to my seat. Three of the top men for the blind conference were next to me. So there I was with my black suit, my blue bag (to carry the gospels but which actually only was large enough to handle one of the two volumes) and a smile on my face.

I was seated by 10:20, the audience started at 10:30 and went until almost 1. In the sun. Bright sun. Got the beginnings of a good tan on my face. Everything else was covered up by the black suit. Interesting to be that close and watch what was going on, but truth be told, the general audience is a fairly dull affair and this was no exception. There is a short reading – and the reading is repeated in about six languages. Then from each language group, someone comes and introduces groups from their area that are visiting – and each group shouts, so the Holy Father will know where they are, some have prepared a song - and then, in the language of that group, the Holy Father offers a reflection on the reading, and sometimes greets specific groups that have been mentioned. It is the same reflection – since I can understand four of the languages used, I know that – so it’s not exactly riveting stuff. We all stand and sing the Pater Noster, and the Holy Father gives his blessing (which, they takes pains to announce, also applies to any items you have brought to be blessed) and then they bring up those to be presented to the Holy Father.

You have perhaps 30 seconds in front of the Pope. If you’re a woman you might get hugged. There are a bunch of photographers snapping like mad, most of whom have given you their cards and contact info prior to the session. One who had posted pictures on line, took perhaps 20 of me. If you have something to present to the Holy Father he may or may not take a longer look at it, but it is quickly enough taken and  put wherever they put gifts. Especially if it is something heavy – say like two volumes of braille – it goes by very quickly.

This is one of the two volumes we had made especially
to present to the Holy Father.

And you’re done. On the way off the platform, a nice young priest gives you a rosary with the papal seal on the cover of the case, and you’re done. I walked back to the residence and checked in, got my card and the code for the wifi and went to find my room. 816. Went to the elevator and discovered it only went to 7. Thought there might be another elevator. There is. Only goes to 6. Back to the desk – ah, my room is on the first floor. (It’s so obvious, why didn’t I see that?) Back to the room. Apply the magnetic card, hear the click, nothing happens.  Back to the front desk. Seems you have to hit the door fast the second you hear the click. And I mean karate chop fast. Yup, that does it.

The room is small – a desk and chair, a small table, a bed and nightstand, a standing cupboard for clothes and a small chair for reading. One window, which opens to an alley and parking area, and the building next door is, I think, part of a school. Lots of activity, lots of noise and talking and people going outside to smoke.

Despite a visit to the AT&T store to be sure I would be able to receive and make calls and text messages, my phone does not find a signal, even though the set up indicates an Italian carrier. So I was not able to contact anyone when I was on my way in, even trying to call via the US – nope, nothing happening. So it’s a useful alarm clock and an interesting paperweight. I know, I had said that before – but it loused me up once, and it will again, and I will definitely make an unhappy visit to AT&T when I return.

I unpacked, drank a lot of water and decided to lie down on the bed for a little. When I got up, I discovered I had missed the lunch hour at the dining room, so I changed clothes and went out to walk for a couple of hours. I had a sandwich and a beer from a street vendor and eventually wound my way back to the residence. Did some work, read and aimed for an early bed. Got an email and a friend has offered to take me to dinner at the Yacht Club on Friday, which sounds like fun. I found where the meeting is going to take place, I found a cheaper way to get to the airport on Sunday morning – and I may check my bag going back, just to make life easier. There is nothing to steal in it, and there is no charge for the bag, so why not.

Rome is a very small city. I had breakfast and did some work. I had a hard shade in my room – usually there is a strap with which you can pull the sucker up and down, but there was just a blank spot where it should be so I propped it open with a hanger. Gets a little air in anyway. The maid came in and saw it, and with my basic Italian I explained. She came back a couple of minutes later with a handyman, who removed the hanger, lowered the window and then pushed the little button on the side wall which raises and lowers the blind. Sigh. Another strike against American intelligence.

Browsing, not really shopping, but I picked up a book I had been looking for, dropped it off and went out to see about photos from the audience, and do some walking. Partly seeing favorite spots, and partly just for exercise. I planned on spending most of the day out, enjoying what has been and continues to be truly glorious weather. As I was walking along the Vatican walls, I looked up and walking towards me was a young Jesuit from Nigeria I don’t think I had seen since I left. He didn’t see me, so I stood right in front of him to get his attention. Rome is a very small city. We chatted for a bit, and he invited me to join the community for lunch, so I said yes. He is living in the Curia – the headquarters – he is the secretary to the African Assistant, a very high position, and I had lived there several times years ago. I still knew some people, and it was great fun. Italians tend to eat the larger meal at midday, so it was a good feed – and I will skip supper, to balance things out.

Before going to the Curia, however, I had one errand to finish and that was to visit the Vatican photography office and take a look at the pictures they had taken the day before. I had looked at another photography site on line and seen their offerings, but before ordering I wanted to see what the “official” photographer had done.

In the office there is a central display area with hundreds of pictures from the general audience. I looked through those, and then identified myself and found there was a book with 7 8x10 shots all ready for me. At 4 euro a shot. One has three sizes of printed picture to choose from (at, correspondingly, 4, 3 and 2 euro per shot or at 8 euro a picture, you can have them on a cd disk. I went through all the pictures and of me there were probably 60 to 80. Looking at budget, I made a list – one of the 8x10, and a series of smaller ones (which I can scan when they arrive) and one on a cd so I could have it right away. I went to present my list and pay, and the woman was, well, shocked that I had not picked any of the already printed 8x10’s for my 8x10. I had, in fact, picked several for the smaller prints, but it was obviously a major moment that there were 7 printed pictures and I wasn’t going to take any of them. She talked about it to another women working there, and while I did not understand the rapid Italian, I had obviously upset the boat.

So I offered to take the 7 pictures at 2 euro rather than 4, which startled her, but after more consultation (everything seems to involve consultation) she said yes, so I learned that the skills you learn in Nigeria will serve you well everywhere. At lunch at the Curia, they were duly amused that I had successfully bargained with the Vatican. Or at any rate,

with the Vatican photo office.

The green area is where I was able to
smoke my cigar

When I left the Curia I walked for a little, did some desk work, and then went up to the roof to smoke a very good cigar someone had given me, and do some reading. No one else was there, so I swiped a lighter from one of the chapels (and returned it on the way back to my room). The views are gorgeous. There was a wonderful breeze blowing all the time I was there – one of many nice aspects of having a rooftop place to read and smoke. At one point I thought I might be having a recurrence of an old eye problem – one eye seemed to be going black. Then I realized my adjusting to the light glasses were adjusting – but only one lens was getting light, so it was darkening and the other wasn’t. Whew!

Next morning up early, and strolled over to St. Peter’s. They have great security – wanding and xray and screening – and if you show up in clerics, you pretty much get waved through. Lots of people at St. Peter’s at 7 AM. The Archbishop in charge of the event was the celebrant, a Bishop from Tanzania whom I had met walking over was a vested concelebrant, and there were perhaps ten concelebrants – and if any of them spoke English I never discovered it. Thank heavens I speak French! Came back to the residence for a late and fast breakfast and then over for the meeting.

There are (I learned) some 300 attending, from 45 countries and 5 continents. I STILL am not sure how I got invited to this. Simultaneous translation in English, Italian, French and Spanish. (I think they assume that Germans speak English.) There is a room off to one side where they have coffee for the coffee breaks and light (ie small) sandwiches for lunch. Don’t come hungry. At the coffee break there was one woman pouring the coffee and adding milk as you wanted and making tea – for 300 people! I had bottled water.

The sessions today were heavily focused on science – treating blindness, curing blindness, preventing blindness. Some interesting moments, but God forgive me, I did get some other work done along the way. During the lunch break I got the password for the wifi, so the day was not a total loss.

In the opening remarks, the Chairman stressed the importance of the human person, which was an encouraging way to start. Some of the later references to “the blind” made me cringe a little. I understand the approach to the spirituality of suffering – but to assume that a blind man is “suffering” because he is blind is a tad off-putting. Now, in the global context, 90% of the blind and people with low vision in the world are in 3^rd world countries. (I guess we’re supposed to call them “developing countries” now – but they’re in the south and they are poor. And in many cases they ARE suffering.) We were flooded with data and statistics – 35 countries are listed as being low income, and they represent 18% of all countries, and 12% of the global population. That means average annual income of $1,005 or less. The blind and visually impaired population in the US increased from 2004 to 2010. In America there are 3.5 .million blind, and 25,600,000 with low vision. 160 million blind/vi in the world. 5 million blind children live in poverty.

We saw slides of eye diseases in progress, heard about the works of Lions and other groups, river blindness is 99% finished, and cataracts are being successfully treated in poor rural areas.

In Mantua there is a museum with one hall of exhibits dedicated to the blind, and two paintings with blind sensory overlays were on exhibit (see pictures), so the sighted can see the picture but the blind can touch it and get a sense of it. 

On the left, the picture as a sighted person would see it. Below, you can see the 3-dimensional version created so the blind can touch and get a sense of the total composition.














There are blind people present – the agenda is in braille, and the chair for one of the sessions was a blind man. But I only saw one or two canes – all the other blind present had guides who led them around, including the musicians who played a concert at the end of the day.

The vice-president of an Italian blind group
made several interventions from the floor. 

The woman translating into English is very good – the man misses a lot, since I am listening to the Italian in one ear and the English in the other and I don’t always know WHAT he is missing, but I do know that he editing and condensing and letting some things pass. At the end of the first day, all the speakers had been in English or in Italian, even when their native language was something else. There is a congregation of blind nuns in Italy that was established in 1913. Apparently one of them is going to speak tomorrow.

At the end of the day a blind priest played piano, he and a blind violinist did a Mozart sonata, and then another blind pianist, a young man, and a sax/clarinet player took on some jazz standards. Not bad. I stayed for three of those numbers and then split, since I wanted to do some work and I had a dinner date with a friend who has a theatre company here in Rome, and her husband. They were going to take me to the Yacht Club.

So I showered and put on a coat and tie and was out front by around 8:45 for a 9 PM Pick up. The RAI (the Italian radio and television network) had big trucks in front of our building and all around the corner – no idea what is/was going on, but it involved a lot of technical people and equipment) I waited – and a car pulled up. I opened the back door – and found two very surprised young ladies. Seems they were picking up a friend who had been waiting across the street. I explained, and they drove off. Seemed a little nervous.

I waited and waited – and of course, since my phone didn’t work (thank you yet again, AT&T) there was no way to contact me. Finally – after about 45 minutes – I went inside to see if there were any messages. (Last time I was here she had had to wait for me, so I didn’t get too worried at first.) Yup – apparently while I was on one side of the RAI truck – on the street side, so I would be easy to spot – my friend had gone into the building looking for me. Sigh. By the time we connected it was too late for me to head out. Early alarm, and Saturday is the day I deliver the paper, which is the reason I came on this trip. So – having skipped lunch since I knew I would be going out, and having missed dinner – I went to bed. Rats.

MISCELLANEOUS ITEMS ALONG THE WAY

The man next door is a world class snorer.

If you are not careful trying to shave the little hairs along your ears, you can bleed really easily.

Rome is a noisier city than New York.

Second Day

I am waking up before the alarm, which is efficient but I could really use the extra sleep. Breakfast was lovely – two helpings of bread and cold cuts and a large bowl of cereal and then on to the location. Settled in. Observation – each session there are fewer people. Another observation – people don’t pay attention to the time they have been given. I worked hard to make sure my submission was within the time limit. The Bishop from Lima who came after me went 23 minutes, with a LONG film. The nun who followed him went 20. Sheesh.

I note – in all humility, of course- that mine was the only presentation that was interrupted by applause. Too bad there were not more people to hear it. Ah well – we do what we can. Got a nice formal TY note and a coin in a blue velvet box as a TY gift. I should have had coins made for the Xavier departing staff. Might still be a notion – if I can work up a design and call my friend who did the lapel pin, might be a good TY gift to have on hand, and something to send even after they have left.

I have had few opportunities to pass out brochures and I did not find a present for a friend who has a 70^th birthday coming up either – I found a lovely little mosaic that would have been perfect, until I discovered it was Euro 6,300. Tell me I don’t have good taste. I did get two homilies written during the morning session. Tried reading Italian braille and had NO idea of what was going on. Found a couple of numbers, but that was about it.

The folks in yesterday’s sessions were pretty good about keeping to time. We ran late but that’s because we started late, and the break and lunch sessions ran overtime. Today – at the end of the meeting there were recommendations for the bishops conferences and I was tempted to suggest that more emphasis be placed on teaching arithmetic, because apparently a lot of people associated with  church have trouble telling time. Or counting. Yeah, I  know I mentioned it above but it kept up, and the chair did not do anything about it. One of several suggestions I will make when I am safely out of the country. But I did get more work done, including two birthday posters for members of the community who celebrate their natal feasts later this month. One of my house jobs is doing the birthday posters.

The chair did say there is another conference in November, a 3-day version that will end with a private audience with the Holy Father. He also said we were all invited. If that invitation comes with another plane ticket, I think I’ll go. I also found out that many of the speakers had not, as requested, sent in their texts in advance, so the poor translators were struggling not only with the text but with the accents of the speakers, several of whom spoke in languages not their first.

When all the dust settled back to the room, took a nap for an hour, dinner and packed almost everything and bed. The bus is supposed to pick me up at 6 AM (please be ready 15 minutes before your scheduled departure time) so I want to be ready for a quick departure, ie get as much sleep as I can. Dinner was a lovely surprise – a farina soup, which was lukewarm but tasty. On the buffet there was a dish of livers, kidneys and hearts and it was wonderful! Potatoes and peas accompanied that and some nice bread on the table and wine – and then the little nun who was serving brought veal and a green vegetable whose name escapes me – like spinach but bitter. Cheese and an apple for dessert and I was a happy person.

Up early (there’s that waking up before the alarm goes off thing again) and a lovely shower, finished packing, did some online things and it was time to go down and wait for the bus. I had gone up to the roof in the early dawn to take a couple of pictures, and being on the almost empty street as the light eased in and the street came to life was a lovely moment. And two. And three. 

                  From the roof in the early morning hours



















As I was starting to wonder if this was going to be a repeat of the Yacht Club misadventure, the little van came along. The driver spoke quite good English, and stopped crossing via del Concilliacione so the other passengers, a couple from Australia, could take a picture of St. Peter’s with virtually no traffic on the street. They were on their way to Morocco as part of a 5 month wander around the world. Must be nice. The several processes at the airport certainly provide work for the people, although how effective anything is might be questioned. There was a preliminary security check, and then check-in. I had a machine print my boarding pass and decided to carry the bag on rather than checking it in. Then security, which was actually fairly gentle, although they wanted the cell phone out with the notebook. While in the waiting area, polizea came around randomly checking passports, and there was a secondary check on the ramp into the aircraft.

United Airlines. We’re all in the waiting area, and there is the standard announcement that we will be boarding by groups, which is fairly standard procedure, and everyone is ready for that. The usual suspects are standing poised to get on line, blocking others who have lower group numbers and the staff does nothing about that. Group 1 is announced and boards. Then group 2 and 3 and 4 and 5 and 6 – all at once. So of course, it is a stampede. They were running late, and someone decided to just get everyone on. I suspect that made us run later, but it did serve to annoy whole groups at once.

On the plane. Not the same modifications as coming over, so it’s an old entertainment system and the audio drops out of the classical channel, ups the volume by about six points and reverts to the rock station, the video is so grainy and line filled it is unwatchable, and like the video, it drops, so there is no point in even trying to get involved in a movie. 9 hours with no reliable video and a dicey audio system. And of course, the response of the flight attendant is that there is nothing THEY can do, it’s not a problem great enough to warrant cancelling the flight (which no one had suggested). Basically tough luck, suck it up nothing you can do about it. Anybody want some Continental air miles, because it will be a cold day in hell before I step foot on another United flight.

The pasta at lunch was surprisingly good, especially since I was not prepared to enjoy ANYTHING. The young girl across the aisle sneezed and turned her head so she sneezed into the aisle – right in my direction. After the third time, I called her on it, and I’m sure she has me pegged as a nasty old man. I did get some writing done, and on my notebook I discovered a cd someone had sent me of a radio interview with Al Jolson, during which he sang 9 songs and talked a lot about the movie The Jolson Story and something about the songs and stories about when he was working. Fascinating stuff.

We landed and disembarked and spent the next one hour waiting in line to get through Immigration. ONE HOUR!!! I had decided not to check my bag, so I sailed through Customs – well, ten minute sin line, but that hardly counted after Immigration – and on to the bus for New York. Which dropped me at Bryant Park, walked a block and got the Madison Avenue bus and home sweet (isn’t it nice to be back?) home. I unpacked – read mail – had dinner with the community, and stayed awake so I would be back on what passes in my life for a regular schedule – and blessed bed.

Looking back, I am struck at how much I continue to like Rome, an attraction which began with my first visit as a student in 1965. I think I would like the Holy Father, if we ever had a chance to sit and chat over a beer. And I was certainly impressed at the dedication of the many people involved in the conference. It was a very good, albeit tiring, week. I am glad I went – I am glad I am back.

And that’s all I have to say about that. 

MAINE RAMBLINGS - A Weekend Visiting the Past

MAINE RAMBLINGS

It was a much more emotional weekend than I had anticipated. I went up for the weekend because one of my god daughters was celebrating her marriage. Not a wedding – that had happened a year ago, with only about six people in attendance, on a sailboat. This was the celebration of that event one year later, to which around 130 people were invited. Because it “wasn’t a wedding,” only about 80 of the best and the brightest showed up.

Steps toward feeling older when you don’t have children of your own to measure your life against – when your god children get married. (As I write this, I am on a plane with a screaming child – and I don’t mean a child who is crying but one whose every utterance is loudly proclaimed and whose parents seem unable or unwilling to modulate his volume. I don’t quite have the courage to tell them that if they think this is cute, or Acceptable, they are wrong. I’d buy the kid a beer if I could be sure he’d drink it.)

As I was saying (and that kid’s screaming cuts through the noise cancelling headphones with music playing) before I was distracted, thinking about growing older – events like this do it. The young lady in question is the daughter of my oldest friend in the world. Not that he is much older than I, but he has been a close friend of mine longer than anyone else. I don’t know where I rank in his universe of friendships, but in mine, he is right up there in the top two. (Now to be perfectly fair, two others who would be up there have already died, leaving the field a little thinner.) He has sort of drifted out of my life in recent years and one reason for the trip, besides celebrating the wedding and meeting the groom (technically the party was the day before the one year anniversary, so I think we still could say “groom.” I’m not exactly sure that the etiquette is on that point.) was the chance to connect with my friend.

I also got to see the rest of the family. Another of his daughters from his first marriage is also my god daughter, I performed the wedding ceremony when his oldest daughter got married, and the bride’s three brothers (all four from his second marriage) are extraordinary young men. One is married and the other two will be serious catches when they plunge. My friend has married for a third time, and brought his current wife with him to the celebration. I didn’t really get a chance to talk with her so I have no opinion. I adore his first two wives.

In my life, my friend and his families have all been very important to me in various ways and at various times, and from what they say, I guess have been important to them as well. Seeing them all so grown up and happy (not without problems, hey, we all have  - it problems and sorrows and areas of our lives that are less than we might wish) and extraordinary people who are continuing to grow and grow well – it was a very special time, Friday night and Saturday and then again on Sunday, as many of us gathered to help strike the party decorations and clean the lodge and return it to rustic normalcy.

That was one stimulus to emotion and looking back and feeling extraordinarily lucky about the people who have come into my life.

On Saturday morning, I drove from Searsport (I’m not going to help you, you’re just going to have to look at a map) to Bar Harbor Maine. My best friend in all the world, who died around 11 years ago, his family had a summer house in Bar Harbor. A BIG house, with MANY bedrooms. I didn’t go as a child – not sure why – but later I was a frequent visitor, and when his parents divorced, his mother kept the garage (something like a four car garage) and built a lovely apartment above it and a nice one room apartment on the ground floor, which I frequently occupied. His mother and I became good friends in our own right, and I would pop up and visit whether he was around or not. I loved those visits and the people I met. A tradition arose that on the last morning of my time in Maine, my farewell breakfast would be cold lobster, English muffin with lots of melted butter, champagne, and often enough, if my timing was right, blueberries. THAT, in mine humble opinion, is breakfast.

I hadn’t been to Bar Harbor in many years. My friend died when I was in Nigeria, and his mother has moved to be with her other son in California. She is in her late 80’s – sound mind, a body that does not cooperate as she would wish, and often enough she is annoyed with God that she is still her. I wanted to be able to tell her that I had visited Bar Harbor and tell her what it is like- it will upset her, I know, but a little emotion is good for people of any age. Keeps the blood flowing. So I drove from Searsport (found it yet?) and paid my visit.

Bar Harbor is even more a tourist attraction and there are many more motels and hotels and places for visitors to stay than I remember. The old quaint stores have been “upgraded” and the signs are all “faux” old style – a la Hamptons at its worst. Crowded, it’s not bad and not depressing even, but it isn’t what it was. I didn’t expect that it would be, but as I browsed the streets, I missed what I had known. Same thing happened in Princeton – the very popular town that everyone knows now is not what I grew up with, and there is no way it could be, or even should be. But I miss it.

On the way back, I passed Blue Hill, Maine. Now I belong to a group called the Blue Hill Troupe. I first encountered them when I was singing with the Light Opera of Manhattan in the early 70’s, and one night someone said the house had been virtually bought out by the Blue Hill Troupe. (It was not a large theatre – a moderate girl scout troop could have filled the house. Still, a sell out is a sell out.) When doing Gilbert and Sullivan, one is used to members of the audience mouthing words of songs as you sing. This night, the whole audience mouthed every word – dialogue and songs. It was an evening to remember.

The Blue Hill Troupe was founded in 1927 in – wait for it – Blue Hill, Maine, and very quickly moved its base of operations to New York. Today they do two shows a year – a more contemporary musical in the Fall and a Gilbert and Sullivan in the Spring. Each year they adopt one charity, and all the money they raise during the year (from the shows and program ads and dances and whatever they can think of and pull off) goes to this charity. There are some VERY good singers in this group and some REALLY good tech people, so the production standards are always very high. I’ve only been a member for a couple of years, and I don’t do much with them, but it’s a good group.

So instead of passing Blue Hill, I turned down the road, went to the town, parked and walked out on a dock and quietly sang “Hail Poetry” (from the Pirates of Penzance, for those of you who are not as up on you G&S as you should be) which is the anthem of the Blue Hill Troupe. No one will care, but it was one of those things one does. At least this one.

Since the theme for this wandering started out as why this was an unexpectedly emotional weekend, I will not spend a lot of time swelling on the setting up of the party or the party or the taking down of the party. The Bar Harbor visit produced its own emotions and recollections, and the grey rainy day that was Sunday served only to enhance the mood – whatever mood I was in at any given moment.

But my trip down the lane of old memories was not over. I had looked at a map (I have learned over the years that my mother was right when she complained about my lack of geographical knowledge and so I am not ashamed to resort to maps on a regular basis) and discovered that Belfast and Camden (where my god daughter lives and where the party was – and if you have not found Searsport, I have just given you two nice hints) are not far from Weld, Maine. Now Weld is a tiny little speck on the map, found by first finding Rumford and then circling around. Or perhaps finding Lake Webb and circling around.

But Weld is where Camp Kawanhee was, a summer camp for boys where I spent three extraordinary years. I hadn’t thought about the spot for years, and I didn’t even know if it was still in existence. So – Google, of course, what else. And sonofagun, it is still running. In fact, last year they celebrated their 90^th year and had a big alumni reunion. The pictures of the place look a lot like the place I remember – and I found myself waxing unusually nostalgic. So, since my flight to Orlando was not until 5:55 in the afternoon, off I went in the grey and rain and drove 2 ½ hours to Weld. As I drew closer, the rain stopped and the sun came out (thank you, God) and I revisited scenes of my youth.

There are signs that say please sign in at the office, so I did, and met the camp director, who chatted with me for a while (I suspect both visiting and assuring himself that I was not a kidnapper or worse) and we talked about the camp. One of the innovations is a museum, in which I found a book about camp history that HAD A PICTURE OF ME! Talk about validation! I told him some stories and bits he hadn’t known, and then I was free to just wander the camp. I was stopped twice by counselors or staff – very politely and very friendly, but also making sure I had not just strolled in, which impressed me. I saw no one with an earbud plugged into a head. I saw no iPod or Pad or gaming device of any kind, just lots of boy running and playing and interacting and exuding high energy and if they weren’t having a lot of fun, they are developing an extraordinary crop of young actors up there.

New lodges have been added. The new lodges when I was there are now old. The dining hall burned down and was rebuilt. They have a rock climbing wall and they reach scuba, neither of which existed in “my day.”  But many of the activities and the trips and the spirit of the place is the same. Memories of names and events and people kept bubbling up, and while the place was in some ways different, unlike Princeton or Bar Harbor, I don’t miss it. Kawanhee makes me wish I had a son to send (unlike the child who is in his second hour of annoying everyone within earshot. And whose screams cut through the noise cancelling headphones playing music like a hot knife through soft butter. Sleeping is NOT an option on this trip. By the way, for future reference – Allegiant Air provides nothing for free. Including the seat. If you want a reserved seat, you pay for it. If not, you get assigned a seat after everyone with reserved seats is seated. You can also buy priority seating – and they serve nothing for free. Everything is for sale, including bottled water. I have not been to the toilets to see if there is a coin slot on the door, or what the charge is for toilet paper. I’m scared to go. So to speak.)

And then I drove another 2 ½ hours back to the airport, to turn in the rental car and start the trek to Orlando. Which I do NOT expect to be an emotional experience, especially since I was there only a coupe of weeks ago.

I don’t mean it morbidly, but I find myself saying goodbye to places. Last time I was in Rome, last time I was in London, I consciously went out of my way to visit some of my favorite places, with a sense that I might not ever see them again. Certainly that was in my mind this weekend as well. Now I am NOT suffering from a terminal disease that I have been keeping secret, I actually feel very good – I’ve been going to the gym regularly and walking more and trying to watch what I eat (I’ll have you know I passed up a chocolate cupcake with mint frosting this weekend. OK – I passed it up on the second day, having had one the day before. But I knew what I was passing up, which ought to get me even more credit, no?) I’m trying. So this feeling of goodbye is not related to anything (except perhaps a highly developed sense of melodrama).

I apologize if this is not my usual chipper, laugh-dotted reflection, but it wasn’t that kind of a weekend. Not sad – but rich. With the exception of the screaming child on the airplane. If a child cannot behave in public, don’t take him out until he can. And if the parents can’t teach him, just shoot them all.

Whoo – got THAT off my chest! And I don’t want to hear any more complaining about not writing in my blog more often. I’m gonna try. That’s all I can promise.

One last thing. If I had several lives to live, I would definitely live at least one of them in Maine. I truly love that place – both for the memories, but as much for the people who are there, and for what it is. The lobsters don’t hurt either. ($4.19 a pound!)

A CONDENSED REFLECTION ON 2 WEEKS IN LOUISIANA

From January 16 to January 31, I was in Ruston, Louisiana, at the Louisiana Center for the Blind. I was a guest student, taking courses in Home Management, Cane Travel, shop, Braille, and computers, all wearing sleep shades. I wore the shades a minimum of nine hours a day and there were some days the darkness went as long as 13 hours.

On this blog there is a daily journal of what I did during the two weeks. But for those with less time, or less interest (and I completely understand – what is fascinating to one is not necessarily compelling for another) this is a shorter version, focusing more on what I learned and spending less time on the process by which I learned it. Most of the pictures are in the other blog item, but you can skim through that if you want to see the pictures.

The hardest question for me to answer is, “Why did you do this?” When I first learned of the existence of the several centers around the U.S. that do this kind of work, and that I would be welcome as a guest, I felt it was something I needed to do, both professionally, as Chairman of the Xavier Society for the Blind, but also personally, to share at least in a very little some experience of what our clients (and some of my friends) do as a blind person. Now that I have done it, I am still reflecting and processing the experience, so this little essay may or may not adequately answer the question for you. Heck, it may not answer it for me yet either.

Note – “blind” covers a range of visual conditions, from being able to see nothing to being able to see light and shadows to being able to make out more distinct images in a very small area of what should be a range of vision. In fact, many of the students at the LCB have some sight, but all wear shades when undergoing training and attending classes.

Another note – shades. I mean sleep shades, large black covering for the eyes, originally developed by the military. They are lined with foam, so they rest away from the eyes – you can open your eyes when in the shades – but completely blocking out light, so you can sleep. They are very useful for training purposes, and blind organizations and individuals use them a lot. They have the added advantage of emphasizing that the person coming toward you is not using their eyes. Unbelievably (to me, at least) there are many people who do not realize that a long white cane means someone is blind. They are fairly comfortable, but my eyebrows itched and it was difficult to scratch anything around the eye. You want the shades tight enough to keep out the light, but not so tight that they compress your sinuses or crunch your ears. I know, sounds funny but when you’re wearing these things nine hours or more at a pop, this gets to be relatively serious.

I flew down and was met at the airport, waited with the driver for two others to come in on another flight (a new student and the director of the LCB) and we drove to Ruston, about 40 minutes away. Stopped for pizza, and I was taken to my apartment. No roommate, so I unpacked, ate some pizza (and saved the rest for breakfast) and slept. The next day I took the school bus in, was given my shades and cane, my stylus and slate (for writing Braille – more on those later) and my class schedule. I was walked to my first class, Home Management and the adventure was off.

Since this is not a day to day account, I’m going to talk about each of the areas of training. Home Management is cooking, but also includes budgeting, cleaning, polishing shoes and tying a necktie, vacuuming but also learning how to take a vacuum apart and put on a new belt. There is a schedule of foods everyone needs to cook, including home made noodles, pastries, using a blender, a crock pot – it’s a long list. Each student must prepare a lunch for 8 (by invitation only) and lunch for 40, which everyone enjoys. Each of those exercises has a budget which influences your menu planning.

Ms. Merilynn runs one of the Home Management kitchens

You have to learn the kitchen, how to use the different appliances, how food items are kept and stored (salt is in the peanut butter jar, and the honey bear holds virgin olive oil – I never did learn where they keep the honey). Mistakes happen – one young man used whole wheat flour instead of confectioners sugar for his frosting for a red velvet cake. He only used one cup out of four – he had poured three before he ran out – and the resulting frosting wasn’t bad. But it was also not according to the recipe.

I did bacon and eggs my first morning, biscuits, brownies, a beef stew, fried pickles. I learned how to sew a button (remember all of this is blind, and I now can thread a needle more easily with my eyes closed than ever I did with them open) and tie a Windsor knot (on those rare occasions when I do wear a tie, it’s a simple 4-in-hand knot). I learned how to hand write a check, use a signature form and write on a blank page. Some students who were blind from birth never learned to write and so have to be taught the shapes of the letters by touch.

Cleaning is also part of the process, and includes dusting, bathroom cleaning, laundry and each apartment is regularly inspected and hints given about taking care of the place better. Each student lives in an apartment – some singly, some with a roommate – and students take care of their own space, their own laundry, their own shopping and cooking. The goal is confident independence, and everything is geared toward that.

Probably the most “dramatic” of the classes is shop, because for many it is so removed from anything they have done, and because a tremendous amount of responsibility is placed on the student. There is only one “specialized” tool, and that is the click ruler. Every other tool in the shop, whether hand tool or power tool, is unmodified, and is exactly the same as you would find in any woodworking shop. Safety guards are not removed, as they often are in other places, and safety with tools is a constant lesson. Whenever a major power tool is to be used, the student prepares and when ready to cut, calls out and is approved by one of the instructors, who either visually or manually checks the safety.

Part of the program teaches students to deal with basic plumbing and electrical problems

The student is given a series of arithmetic questions, and then is taught to use the click ruler. When that has been mastered, the student has to score a piece of wood to create a checkerboard pattern, mark the intersections, and then drill a hole at each intersection. Since a blind carpenter cannot see a drawn line, the scratch-all becomes his (or her) pencil. Another series of exercises introduces the student to other tools and in the course of two assigned projects, the student will have learned to confidently use every tool in the shop.

At that point the second instructor steps in and walks them through selecting and designing their final project. It can be a mantel clock, a grandfather clock, a chest of drawers, a chair – the student picks the project, designs it and when the design is complete, then builds it. The process takes anywhere from 3 to 5 months. The students pays 80% of a $200 price and the full cost of anything above $200. That gives the student a sense of ownership and responsibility. If a piece is cut long, it can be recut to fit and only a little wood is wasted. If the wood is cut short, it is wasted (and charged) unless it can be used somewhere else in the project. Students take great pride in their projects and they work hard at it. They learn precision, responsibility, and the work they turn out is very professional.

Cane travel is a foundational course because that’s how the blind move. In the first week or two, depending on a student’s experience and skill, he or she is cleared to travel, and no longer is allowed to take the bus back and forth to the Center. They have to walk, and learn to deal with carrying loads, with bad weather, with walking at different times of the day. Basic techniques are taught and re-enforced and students are given routes to walk. Other exercises include a drop (where the student and usually a teacher both wearing shades are dropped by car at an unknown location, and forced to find their way back to the center). Checkerboard is another exercise, where a group of students go out as a group, and at each corner a different person chooses the direction. At a set time, the teacher selects one to start the way home and at each corner, the teacher picks another student to be the guide.

If the traffic is on my left, then I am NOT lost. 

As I went through the courses, I heard some of the same themes being repeated. Don’t overthink this was one of them. True in shop, true in cane travel, true in the kitchen, true when trying to read a line of Braille. Keep up the pace – true in the Braille room, true when walking with a cane. Keep your focus – in the kitchen, in the shop, when outside walking. Because these are lessons for life, not just for cane travel or cooking. These are things we all need to do, to know, to practice in our lives, and true whether blind or sighted.

One dimension I had not considered is the prevalence of diabetes as an illness among the blind. I don’t know how widespread that is, but certainly in the kitchen, great care is taken to include recipes with Splenda, and teaching students how to use Splenda in cooking. There are regular sessions with a nutritionist for those who need it. And students look out for one another – one wanting to try a piece of cake that a friend had made was refused “because there is too much sugar in it for you.”

When I was given my stylus and slate, I wondered, since I have had only a little practice reading Braille with my eyes, and none using my fingers and I wondered how much I could learn in only two weeks. I found I learned the alphabet quickly, and started with writing rather than reading. Using a stylus, you write backwards, since you are punching holes into a page which are read from the other side. But I quickly got the hang of it, and found I could churn out a fair amount of correct Braille in a fairly short period of time. How I was only using the alphabet. There are also contractions, and as you get more experienced, there are more contractions, which make it possible to read Braille at over 500 words a minute. That is a very fast Braille reader but not terribly unusual. For instance, a letter standing alone represents a word. “b” = “but.” C- can. D – do and so on. “And” is all six dots raised. There are many contractions and combinations and level two Braille is the ability to read a much more sophisticated combination. There is also a level three but it is used almost exclusively for personal note-taking and many fluent Braille readers don’t use level three Braille. (Brl = Braille; bl – blind; cld = could)

The machine on the desk is my Braille writer

I also learned to use the Braille writer, a Perkins like the ones we have back at the XSB. That too came fairly quickly, and in my last class I filled two pages of material. Reading was more difficult – not that I did not know the letters but my fingers found them hard to distinguish. You read with both hands at once, emphasizing the left on the left side of the page and the right on the right. I am right-handed, and so my left hand is actually better at reading than the right. The teacher constantly says not to “scrub,” ie move your fingers up and down to try and sense the pattern but rather to move straight across the line, keeping up the pace, repeating as necessary. It comes very slowly, but it is coming.

The computer class for me turned more into a survey of what’s available. I discovered that I do need to look at the keyboard if only every now and then, to help keep oriented. I can type really fast and really accurately but every now I then I need to check. Not being able to check does me in. I did pass the basic levels of typing to start working on the actual programs, but not the first time. Nor the second. Enough said.

Everything on the computer is sound re-enforced, from having a program echo your letters or your words, reading the material on a screen, whether something you have written or something you get from another source, like the Internet. No matter how fast the little voice reads – and it can read so fast I can’t understand it, although they say I would with practice – it is still slower than my reading it with my eyes. Another lesson – patience. There are times you stand or sit and wait. In the kitchen I was always running late, everything took more time. Walking takes more time. Reading and writing take more time.

Most of the faculty are also blind.

But it was a fascinating survey, playing with the programs I had been hearing about. The technology is changing almost daily, and blind users are become more and more proficient at using it to increase their access to the internet, to jobs and to take part in all the activities of the world.

My biggest post-event reflection is that it’s not extraordinary. Blind people are being helped to realize that they can do almost anything a sighted person can, and they use doing everyday activities as the platform to re-enforce that. They develop basic skills for everyday living – it’s a program many sighted people should undergo – and they “graduate” with both skills and a personal confidence founded on skill and experience.