[Nfb-history] Some thoughts on winter from the Blind History Lady

[Peggy Chong]

Let it snow!!!  

 

Winter can be a fun time of year and also informative.  We learn such things
as not to lick a lamp post, don't por boiling water on a frozen lock and how
to fall without breaking a bone or two.

 

In my book Karsten Ohnstad -- I Wanted To Be A Teacher, Just Like My Dad,
you met Karsten who learned that blindness did not need to stop him from
having fun in the snow.  But his lessons came with some trepidation and
fears.  

 

Here is an excerpt from my book of Karsten's last winter at the school for
the blind in Minnesota where his fellow students helped him to realize he
could have a ball in the snow on an un-official outing... 

 

After donning two pairs of pants, layers of socks, and almost everything
else he had to layer his clothes, he joined Mooster and the others for an
evening of fun. It was snowing out and after sunset.  They set out for the
hill near the railroad tracks. This meant they had to cut across the grounds
of the School for the Feeble-minded.  Each made jokes as to the need to keep
moving lest someone find them and mistake them for one of their own.  

 

They found the railroad tracks and began to follow them to and over the
trestle bridge.  On the other side was the hill they were to ski on.  Before
leaving, one of the boys piled several pair of skis on the toboggan that
they pulled behind them on the railroad tracks.  Well, the other boys walked
the track, but Karsten was worried that he would be hit by a passing train.
Even though the others tried to reassure him no trains were coming and that
they would hear the train in plenty of time, Karsten was not so sure. He
walked along the side of the track, using the toe of his shoe along the
outside rail as his guide.  He did not have a cane.

 

They found the spot at the top of the hill they wanted to ski.  Mooster
began to build a fire while the others looked for more kindling and set the
skis out.  Dewing, the only boy with a little vision, put his skis on first.
He positioned himself at the top of the hill and took off into the dark of
the night.  

 

They all listened for any sound from Dewing.  Hearing nothing, Karsten was
concerned.  Hearing nothing was good the others reassured him.  That meant
Dewing had not hit a tree or the fence they knew was at the bottom. Finally,
one yelled down to Dewing to find out how the trail was.  Great he yelled
back.  Using the sounds of the other boys' voices, Dewing climbed back up
the hill and joined them at the fire.  

 

Soon it was Karsten's turn to try, but he declined at first.  Then after the
implication of being a chicken, Karsten put on the skis, let Dewing position
him at the top of the hill and tensely took off.  All the boys heard him
crash in just a few feet.  

 

"Are you OK?," they yelled down.

 

"Yes, I think so," he replied.

 

One ski was still affixed to his boot, but the other ski must have gone all
the way to the bottom of the hill.  He took the one ski off and swung it
around close to the ground to see where it was.  Clunk, the ski hit the
other ski.  A part of him was pleased he had not lost the ski for the
others. The other part of him had secretly hoped it had continued on to the
bottom of the hill not to be found until spring.  

 

Karsten climbed back up to the top and dried himself out at the fire.  It
was his turn again.  This time he was not quite as stiff as the first time.
In his younger, sighted years, he had loved to ski.  Each of his blind
buddies had made it to the bottom and came back in fine shape.  This time he
put on his skis, positioned himself at the top, and pushed off.  For a
moment he seemed to hang there at the top.  Then swish and he was off,
sailing down the hill, the snow flying in his face.  It was wonderful.  He
had the same feelings of ecstasy of skiing down a hill that he had when he
was a young teen back in McIntosh.  All too soon, he was at the bottom.  The
boys yelled down to him when they could no longer hear him speed down the
hill.  Yes, he had made it, and all the way to the fence.

 

Back up the hill he climbed with a feeling of accomplishment.  He would have
never tried skiing as a blind man even if a group of sighted friends had
been leading him.  Now, here he was, enjoying the sport of skiing with a
bunch of blind guys in the dark and having a great time.

 

Next they all decided to climb onto the toboggan and slide down the hill
together.  Each got on behind the other and held on tight.  They shoved off
and were whizzing almost half way down the hill when Karsten heard it.  The
train whistle!  Suddenly, the sled stopped and pitched sideways throwing the
boys in all different directions.  The train whistle blew again.  Each of
the boys got up and dusted themselves off.  They were a bit bumped up but
nothing serious.  

 

One asked, "What did we hit, a tree?"

 

"Nothing," said Mooster.  "Some joker put his leg out."

 

They all grumbled at the abrupt end to their fun on the hill as they climbed
back up to the fire near the railroad tracks to dry off before heading back.
Karsten tried hard not to make any undue sounds as he rubbed his sore leg,
walking up the hill and on the way back to campus.  

 

You can read more about Karsten in my Book at
https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/831366

 

 

 

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