[Nfb-seniors] senior newsletter

[Judy Sanders]

Below you will find the spring edition of the NFB Senior Division newsletter.  Many of you will receive a cassette version.  If you do not receive one in the next two weeks you can request one offlist by contacting me at

jsanders.nfb at comcast.net

Newsletter

 

National Federation of the Blind Senior Division 

 

Spring 2011

 

Volume twelve Number one

 

President, Judy Sanders

111 Marquette Ave. South apt. 503

Minneapolis, MN 55401

Telephone: 612-375-1625

e-mail: jsanders.nfb at comcast.net

 

Submit inquiries to Ms. Sanders, at the above address.

 

Read by Will Schwatka

 

Editor, Pat Munson

10501 Lagrima de Oro NE apt 139

Albuquerque NM 87111

phone 505-291-3139

e-mail pat.munson at comcast.net

 

Articles for the National Federation of the Blind Senior Division, newsletter should be sent to: Ms. Munson.

 

Table of Contents

 

President's Message

By Judy Sanders

 

Meet Our New NFB Senior Division Vice President

By Ruth Sager

            

On the Road with the Louisiana Center RV for Seniors

by Wendy Ortigo

 

The Fun in Fundraising

by Nancy Burns

 

A Reminder of How Far We've Come
By Frederick Melo

 

North to Alaska

by Jim Babb

 

Art Schreiber Receives Yet Another Award

 

Jan Teaches the Blind to Live Independently

by Edie Grossfield

 

A Diabetic Life of Great & Not So Great Expectations

By Patti Harmon

 
The Sentence That Freed Me
by Pat Barrett

 

Schreiber's Half Marathon Walk
By Art Schreiber


This and That

 

President's Message

 

By Judy Sanders

 

Before we know it many of us will be in Orlando, Florida for the annual convention of the National Federation of the Blind.  All indications are that this will be a record breaking convention in terms of numbers of attendees.  Here's what's on tap especially for senior citizens.

 

On July 3rd the NFB Senior Division will sponsor a seminar to explore solutions that many of us take for granted. For instance, how do I shop for groceries? How do I use my stove safely? Can I be responsible for my own money? You will want to attend this seminar if:

 

Blindness is relatively new for you and you have serious reservations about keeping your own independence.

 

You have always lived with relatives and would like to be more on your own.

 

You are active in your NFB affiliate and you want suggestions on how to deal with newly blind people.

 

It is not necessary to register in advance for this seminar.  Just come on Sunday, July 3, at 1:30 p.m.

 

Then we come to Tuesday, July 5. This is the annual meeting of the NFB Senior Division where we will begin with registration and our "not-so-silent" auction at 1:00 p.m.. How does it work?

 

At registration, you can pay your yearly dues of five dollars and make sure we have your correct address to receive this newsletter. Then you will enter the meeting room where you can begin to examine a display of lovely, delicious and needed items.  There will be people to take your bids and for the next hour you will have to check to see if anyone has outbid you. If so, you can raise your bid.  At the end of the hour we will close the bidding on many items and declare winners.  Some of the items (the ones that we think we can get more money) will carry over to our regular auction and go up for bid during our meeting.  People's generosity in donating items and bidding on them has made this an extremely successful fundraiser for our division.

 

Want to donate an item or know more? You can contact Ramona Walhof at

 

rwnfbi at q.com

 

Her phone number is 208-338-1595.

 

During our business meeting we will explore how we can enhance the image and importance of the white cane.  Why should seniors use it and how can we work in our affiliates to share the thrill of traveling independently?

 

If you have ideas for our agenda you can contact me using the information at the top of this newsletter.  Come join us in Florida where seniors--particularly blind seniors--rule!

 

 

Meet Our New NFB Senior Division Vice President

 

by Ruth Sager

 

Editor's note: At the 2010 meeting of our senior division Ruth Sager was elected to this position. We welcome her to our board, although her work with seniors is ongoing and very successful.

 

I grew up in Wisconsin, and attended the school for the blind. I stayed in the state to attend college where I majored in French and history.

I really wanted to learn to speak French well, so when I learned that my university offered a program in France, I applied and was accepted. 

I enrolled at a university in Normandy. I was the only blind student there, because the blind in France attended the school for the blind which was located in Paris. Because the transportation within Paris is so good, most French blind students go to universities there. Also, a lot of them like living on their own away from the heavy hand of the family. 

After I graduated from university, I was given the chance to go back to Paris and teach English conversation at the school for the blind. I had about 120 students, because Europeans require that students learn a number of foreign languages. 

It was an amazing experience, because not only did I teach French students who are blind, but I had those from Africa and the Middle East. It was very much an international school.

I then went to Belgium. I wanted to go there because my other major was history and I wanted to learn more about Europe after the Second World War. While I studied, I supported myself by giving English lessons. I found I could make more money giving lessons there, than I could in my home country.

Finally, I did have to return to the United States and found a job in Washington D. C. I was a receptionist for a lobby called Grocery Manufacturers of America. But since during this time, I met, and married my husband, and we started a business, I left that job. 

I then stayed home to rear my three children as they came along; now they are adults, and my first grand child was born this past summer. 

Since my husband was a great fan of ham radio, we decided to move to Connecticut. That is where I met the NFB and was nurtured by the then state president, Jacqueline Billy. I learned the federation philosophy from her, And I took on the job of editing the state newsletter. 

While I was working on the newsletter, Jerry Whittle, a teacher at the Louisiana Center for the Blind, held a writers' workshop.  I was lucky enough to attend. While there, I met all the center staff and was very impressed with the work they were doing.

A number of months later, the center director called me and asked if I would be interested in a job there. I was and I took a job as a cane travel instructor. I did that job for a year and then moved to teaching independent living which I did for six years. 

While I was teaching in Louisiana, my husband was getting an advanced degree at the university there. Then both of us were offered jobs in Baltimore, so we moved yet again. 

I took a job with my present employer, and my husband was employed locally. My husband's parents were near, and since they were getting older, my husband and I wanted to be near so we could keep an eye on them. 

Now I have been at Blind Services for 15 years, and about 11 years ago, I started the program for seniors.

Now we have 2, two-day a week programs structured after the NFB center model. We have: cane travel; Braille; independent living; computer; and adjustment to blindness; the latter mentioned class is part of all the instruction. Without philosophy that a blind person can do whatever the goal is, the classes would be almost meaningless.  

Yearly we host a retreat for 4 days. This is a chance for seniors losing vision to learn some of the skills and hopefully lose some of their fear of blindness. We also do one-day seminars such as we did at the NFB convention in Dallas. 

Presently I serve as president of the senior division for NFB in Maryland. We have a meeting and a lunch at the state convention. 

As we all know in NFB, our work goes on and on. As long as there are seniors losing vision, there will be a great need for our work in this area, and who is better qualified than NFB members. .

 

 

On the Road with the Louisiana Center RV for Seniors

 

by Wendy Ortigo

 

Editor's note: The following was presented at the 2010 NFBSD meeting.

 

At the Center, we have three programs for our seniors who are 55 and older. The first program is called the TLC program, Techniques for Living Competently. About 90 percent of the seniors who have attended this program are newly blind. We have educated many doctors in our state, so they refer seniors losing vision to us. 

We meet with these seniors and teach them the skills of blindness so they can continue their lives. We actually go into seniors' homes. They learn how to cook as a blind person. They clean their home, and learn new ways to sew, garden, and entertain. 

Since we have many rural areas in our state, we try to gather several seniors so we can serve more older persons at once. We find that seniors in a group learn well from one another. 

The second program we started 5 years ago and call it the Senior Retreat. We have about 8 seniors come to the LA Center and live there for a week. They stay in apartments so they learn to manage running a home. When they first arrive, they go to all the classes where blind students are learning blindness skills; from watching these students they quickly realize that they do not have to give up what they thought only sighted people could do. 

They observe students preparing a meal for 40; students reading and writing Braille; using a computer; and using saws and so on in the woodworking shop. As they realize they can do all these things, we have them prepare meals, pull weeds in the garden and walk around with a white cane. We also encourage them to tell us what they would like to learn. 

We bring in musicians and other forms of entertainment and show ladies how to apply makeup. We tailor the program to the needs of the students.

Now we are very excited about our new project. The funding has just come in, so it is time to move. This program is called the MATES. 

We are going to take the LA Center on the road. 

The center has a 37 foot RV; it has been transformed into a classroom. It has a kitchen and a classroom containing everything we think a newly blind senior could need. We will take the RV to rural areas of Louisiana and park for about three days. With this blindness education they will learn that they can continue living in their home. 

The RV will have a wheelchair lift so it will be accessible for everyone. People are living longer so they will most likely have more challenges. With this program we hope to make life easier for many.

 

 

The Fun in Fundraising

 

By Nancy Burns

 

Editor's note: The following is from the newsletter of the NFB of New Mexico. We all need to raise funds to forward our work. Why not try this!

 

Don is as comfortable flipping hamburgers on the barbecue as I am peeling ten pounds of potatoes for potato salad.  This was in preparation for the West Mesa fundraiser.  The patio tables were arranged and set up for 25 chapter members. This was all in preparation for another innovative fundraiser.  

 

The first such event was hosted by Doug and Hermelinda Miller and the second one was hosted by Caroline and Diego Benavidez along with Alexandria Reyes-O'Donoghue.  Each of these fundraisers brought over $100.  The procedure has been as follows:  the host purchases, plans and prepares a meal.  Chapter members come and have a wonderful meal and contribute to the chapter for the meal.  There is no set price.  

 

The most recent, held on August 18th, was hosted by Don and Nancy Burns and assisted by Jim and Mary Babb.  Hamburgers, hotdogs, and side dishes were provided by Don and Nancy.  As Mary served up her chocolate cake and the popular pineapple/cherry party cake, members dipped generously into their wallets.  By the end of the meal, $275 had been raised for the West Mesa Chapter's treasury.  

 

Good food, fellowship, and a desire to support the NFB were the order of the day.  What a great way to share an enjoyable afternoon and to keep the fun in fundraising!

 

 

A Reminder of How Far We've Come


Editor's Note:  We easily think that things have always been as they are now and that they will stay that way.  The following article appeared in the St. Paul Pioneer Press on May 21, 2010, and is about a blind man who had a much more limited time than most of us have today.  Many of us grew up at the time he did and were able to choose a different path in life, but he wasn't able to do that.  We often looked down on what he did, but we also worked to make better opportunities for blind people.  His ultimate goal was to be as independent as he could be in his circumstances, and we must respect him for that.  However, we must also remember that blind people no longer have to do as he did, and we must respect ourselves for that.



Gordon Emo, 76: A familiar face is no longer there in St. Paul skyways

Blind man saw security in picking humble job selling pencils

By Frederick Melo St. Paul Press


Gordon Emo never walked on the moon or threw a famous touchdown pass.  He won't be remembered for feats of philanthropy or scientific achievement, and his name isn't inscribed on any memorials.



But to countless passersby on St. Paul streets and skyways, Emo was known as the blind man on the collapsible stool who sold pencils from a cigar box for 40 years.  He died Monday at Regions Hospital in St. Paul after a long struggle with lung cancer.  He was 76.



"I said I didn't want to do that kind of work - it's a disgrace to the blind," Emo told the Pioneer Press in 1990, recalling the day a friend suggested pencil sales to him.  "But it's either doing this or sitting home alone.  I won't say selling pencils is a good job, but it is secure for a blind person, and I'm free from counselors and other people who tell you a fairy tale, a bunch of dreams that never come true."



Often dressed in a snowmobile suit to get through the tough Minnesota winters, Emo began selling pencils outside the old Bailey's Bar and Grill on Wabasha Street in 1969.  In the late 1980s, he moved his sales to the skyway, where he took up residence near the U.S. Bank building.



Emo kept a couple hundred pencils in an old Dutch Masters cigar box mended with tape, selling them for 10 cents apiece or three for a quarter.  He never made much money, but his self-styled occupation introduced him to a wider world.  He was also well known at Mickey's Diner, where he often ate breakfast.



He grew up on a farm near Jamestown, N.D., and graduated from the North Dakota School for the Blind, where he studied biology and Latin.  As a youth, he could recite portions of the Iliad and Macbeth.



He never attended college but learned how to type at a Twin Cities workshop for the blind, where he also put together telephone parts and practiced using a Dictaphone.  After two years, he dropped out to look for what he described as "a real job."



"I thought if I could get a job, my folks would be proud of me," he said.  "I thought I had qualifications.  I had my suit on."



Instead, he found a series of closed doors.  He was engaged for a time until his fiancée died of an illness.  His three brothers, sister and extended family became his close companions.



"He had a great sense of humor," said Emo's niece, Elizabeth Kommer, 43, of Maple Grove.  "Even though his health was going down, he seemed to be always bubbly, happy.  He would call me up and ask me to come over.  His big treat was going to the Dairy Queen.  It was a joy for me to take him."



Emo, who was born blind, grew up at a time when resources and legal protections for the blind were more limited, said Joyce Scanlan, a board member and past president of the National Federation of the Blind of Minnesota.



As children, Scanlan was a few years ahead of Emo at the North Dakota School for the Blind, then located in Bathgate, N.D.  She had him as a student in 1959 when she returned to the school to teach.



Some advocates for the blind saw Emo's pencil selling as an insult, a throwback to the days when the disabled had to beg on street corners.  But Scanlan, who was born partially blind, doesn't agree.



"He was doomed from the start, almost, because he was totally blind," she said.  "Times have changed, we hope ... but a totally blind person was at the bottom of the totem pole in a residential school.  I think he really did have some intelligence, but the way he was treated and the way he was regarded in the student body and by the staff of the school, he didn't ever develop the drive or the skills to deal with the attitudes towards him."



"I was at the other end of that scale from Gordon, but I understand it better now," she continued.  "I'm totally blind now."



Following his wishes, Emo will be buried Saturday next to his parents in a family plot at Calvary Cemetery in Jamestown, N.D., said his brother, Patrick Emo of Minneapolis.  A visitation is scheduled today at the Lisko Funeral Chapel in Jamestown.



"He was my brother, and I took him around," said Patrick Emo, choking back tears during a telephone call from his Super 8 motel room in Jamestown.  "He was a real good fellow.  He was a real good talker - that's what I liked about Gordon."



 

North to Alaska

 

by Jim Babb

 

Editor's note: Jim is the editor of the NFB of New Mexico newsletter. He, like many of us, has found cruising a great vacation. 

 

Or should I say that cruising is great fun these days! Decades ago when Mary and I took our first cruise, it was fun also but you had a much greater chance of getting seasick. That was because the cruise ships were much smaller and had more primitive stabilizers that weren't computer controlled.

 

Also these days you can take a cruise to almost anywhere, as long as the water is deep enough; that includes Alaska, the Antarctic, Polynesian Islands and more. It's also relatively inexpensive when you, or your travel agent, looks for great deals. Many great cruise destinations can be had for less than $100. per person per day and that's what we got on our recent cruise from Seattle, Washington to stops in Alaska and Canada. 

 

Cruising in the old days was for the most part for newlyweds and the nearly dead! Cruising now is for singles and couples and children of all ages; there were numerous children and babies on this cruise.

 

What amazed me was that there wasn't any other white cane aboard the Zaandam. In fact there were no guide dogs aboard, and no white canes or guide dogs observed in Juno, Sitka or Ketchikan Alaska.  Although the long straight white cane is my favorite, I chose to take my telescoping cane because I knew that I would need to stow my cane a lot. 

 

The scenery was spectacular. We saw many types of whales, bears, and more. The previously mentioned Alaskan towns along with Victoria, British Columbia were both rustic and beautiful. The people in these towns along with those on the cruise ship were wonderful and fun to interact with. The food on the Zaandam was as good as it gets! I had some type of seafood for just about every meal including breakfast. If I was so inclined, I could have had steak for every meal. 

 

Our cabin was great; we had a large window that looked out to sea, or port if we were docked. One has to get used to some things such as that six inch step up into the bathroom and why do they mount the toilet at an angle to the back wall! 

 

An interesting note, near the end of our cruise, I decided to turn on the room TV to catch up on the World Cup Soccer games. The channel was on CNN International which is similar but different than our U.S. CNN in that they focus mostly on other than U.S. NEWS AND SPORTS. What did I See at that very moment? There was Mark Riccobono from NFB and Dr. Hong from Virginia Tech. talking about the car that blind folks might drive in the future! This was July 5 or 6 and of course it happened at the Dallas NFB convention.

 

On this ship the cabins were easy to find, they were marked with raised letters and Braille. The menus were not in Braille but the server always read the offerings to everyone at each meal. When we were not participating in activities on the ship, we took the opportunity to kick back and read books. Mary brought hardcover books from the library and I read several books on my Victor Stream.  Cruising is blind friendly, the destination choices are endless and the prices are great too, so give it a try.

 

 

Art Schreiber Receives Yet Another Award

 

Editor's note: For our new readers, Art is the second vice president of the NFB Senior Division. This article is from the NFB newsletter in New Mexico.

 

This past weekend the New Mexico Broadcasters Association held its Excellence in Broadcasting Awards Gala and recognized two leaders in broadcasting in the state of New Mexico.

 

The purpose of the NMBA Broadcasters Hall of Fame is to recognize and memorialize the achievements of state broadcasters and to promote the art of broadcasting. This encompasses recognizing and honoring those persons who have made notable contributions to the broadcasting industry in the state of New Mexico. This year, the NMBA inducted Gene Mortensen and Art Schreiber.

 

Art Schreiber began his career in broadcasting as a young news announcer in Ohio. Art Schreiber's career was launched by covering the announcement of NASA's first moon mission, the assassination of President Kennedy, and the race riots of the early '60's. In 1964, Schreiber spent the summer crossing the Midwest with the British invasion, submitting valuable daily reports about the Fab Four.

 

"After a concert, we'd go back to the hotel," Art recalled. "I'd barely make it back to the room, and the phone would ring. It was George or Ringo calling me over for a rousing game of Monopoly in their room. They were crazy for that game, and we'd play till 2 in the morning."

 

Art Schreiber moved to Albuquerque in 1981 as General Manager of the Hubbard Broadcasting stations KOB-AM and FM. Combating increasing vision problems and enduring ten eye surgeries Schreiber still brought in power-programming, such as The Larry King Show to the AM station, and KOB-FM became one of Arbitron's "Drivetime Dominators," rating 20th in the nation. Through it all, Art has maintained his commitment to his community and his vocation, always bringing a new level of professionalism to each job he tackled.

 

Both Gene Mortensen and Art Schreiber were present during the presentation of their induction into the New Mexico Broadcasters Association Hall of Fame on Saturday, June 12, 2010. 

 

 

Jan Teaches the Blind to Live Independently

 

by Edie Grossfield

 

Editor's note: The following article is from the Rochester Post-Bulletin of August 23, 2010. Jan is president of the Rochester chapter and a member of the NFB of Minnesota board of directors. She is also an excellent worker at our NFB Senior Division annual meeting.

 

As a rehabilitation teacher for the blind, Jan Bailey teaches people who have lost their sight how to live independently. That includes everything from how to read and write using Braille to how to cook breakfast without seeing.

 

The Rochester resident was a rehabilitation counselor for the Minnesota State Services for the Blind for 31 years, retiring in December 2009 to start her own business. Recently, Gov. Tim Pawlenty reappointed Bailey to the State Rehabilitation Council for the Blind, which provides information and makes recommendations to the State Services for the Blind. This will be her fifth and final year on the council.

 

What were the primary issues you encountered working for the state agency?

 

I had probably anywhere from 50 to 70 customers in southeastern Minnesota, and they either wanted to retain their jobs, a few of them, and then most of them had lost their jobs because of loss of vision, or partial loss of vision.

 

How did you help your clients?

 

What counselors do is help them figure out "what am I going to do next?" I helped them adjust to blindness training. I helped them get adaptive equipment. Maybe they need a little vision services, or they may need some counseling to help them adjust to their vision loss.

 

Is it sometimes difficult to work with people who are struggling with having lost their sight?

 

It can be. A lot of a counselor's job is selling a person on the idea that just because you lost your sight, or a lot of your sight, doesn't mean that you have to sit home and do nothing. And sometimes that's a hard sell. Because people are upset, and they're used to seeing, and they're used to doing things visually. It takes them a while to realize that you can do most of the same things you always did, but you have to do them in a different way.

 

Have you always been blind, or did it happen later in life?

 

Shortly after birth, I was in an incubator and given too much oxygen and it caused me to have what they now call retinopathy of prematurity. At first they didn't know, but a few months later, my mother noticed I wasn't looking around and took me to the doctor and they told her. This happened to about 50,000 babies before a doctor discovered you have to measure oxygen; you can't just give somebody a big dose.

 

And your own blindness made you want to help other blind people?

 

Yes. I've always been blind, and I'm used to it. But I do know from my own circumstances that I had good opportunities to get good training, and that made a difference in my life. So, that's why I wanted to go into this field, because I wanted to help other people have those same opportunities.

 

What is important for the general public to understand about blind people?

 

Mostly that we're normal people and that we don't have better hearing and we don't have any ESP or any of that kind of stuff. You know, a lot of people kind of think some things like that. But we are a wide cross section of society, so we're just like all the other people, but we don't happen to see.

 

 

A Diabetic Life of Great & Not So Great Expectations

By Patti Harmon

Editor's note: Patti has written a number of times for us. This piece has already been published elsewhere. We are always pleased to see our members in print.

Patricia Ullmann Harmon is a special contributor to Diabetes News Hound. She was first diagnosed with Type 1 diabetes in the 1950s and has successfully overcome some of the disease's toughest complications, including blindness. Patty was kind enough to share her story of the ups and downs of a life lived with diabetes at a time when medicine and society were much different:

"It was the best of times; it was the worst of times."  It was 1955. I had come out of a three-day coma, unaware of the serious health issues I had. The hospital room surprised me. My grandmother's tears shocked me. Grapefruit juice was my beverage of choice. I was ten years old and unworried.

Even the diagnosis of juvenile diabetes did not frighten me. When the doctor suggested my mother administer insulin shots, I refused. I practiced on oranges and did it myself from then on. Fear was the method used to teach me about this disease. Old people in wheelchairs appeared in photographs. Doctors, nurses and parents became stern and pessimistic if I ignored the rules. 

In my teens, it became one more source of controversy between my mother and me.  Before Friday night dances, she wrapped a bottle of Cott sugar-free orange soda in foil  (Diet Coke didn't exist back then).  I buried the glass bottle before I entered the dances.  It was the game of 'hide and secret' and I was mastering it.  My mother wanted everyone to know I had diabetes - I wanted to tell no one. 

With my college degree in English from Notre Dame in Baltimore, I fantasized about a writing career in New York City.  I had grown up in New Jersey, just across the Hudson, adoring the view of the river and the skyscrapers. I did require money for my rent and meals, so I started teaching - just for a little while to make some money. I visited the city on the bus to continue my fantasy.

Diabetes did not concern me much. I was a miracle-believer-until it happened to me.  When I was twenty-five, doctors sent me to Colorado Springs for experimental laser beam treatments. Oh, I adored the looks of the Wild West state and her blue skies above the sturdy mountains. I still believed in miracles and the goal of restored vision. There were no miracles.  It was the worst of times.

Courage came from some little corner of me. I knew I needed to leave my parents' home; I needed work for a reason to live; I longed for independence. 

For months, mother and I opened the door of the house on Maiden Lane to counselor Estelle Schaefer from the New Jersey Commission for the Blind. Braille and mobility instructors followed, delivering a hope for possibilities. The Commission decided the master's degree was the goal I needed to achieve. I was already a teacher; this goal seemed natural. Colorado opened its arms to me. 

>From New Jersey, I moved to the University of Northern Colorado. It was a miracle. Rehabilitation blossomed.  There were social possibilities. Confidence resurfaced. Cane travel and Braille improved.  It was the best of times.

However, discouragement and disappointment occurred when I went searching for a job.  With one hundred letters out to schools, rehab centers and commissions, I believed nothing was happening. Then, a phone call altered life forever. The state school for the blind in Alamogordo, New Mexico, was looking for an elementary level teacher. A friend helped me locate Alamogordo on the map. I hopped a Greyhound bus from Colorado Springs and rode all night. The superintendent quizzed me about my diabetes, but hired me anyway. The desert warmed me for more than 30 years. It probably was the white sands, the daily sunshine, the turquoise jewelry, the green and red chili and the New Mexico School for the Visually Handicapped.

Rehabilitation felt comfortable in my cozy apartment on New York Avenue. I walked to work; I prepared meals; I went country dancing. Diabetes was never a favorite topic, but I didn't hide it as often. Times were good.

During the 1950s, television portrayed perfect families with perfect children with patient parents. Nobody spoke of chronic diseases or the treatments.  If they had a young person in a wheelchair, he or she resolved all issues within the confines of a 30 minute program. No young people went for therapy. If they did, they never discussed it or admitted it - it was considered an embarrassment. 

In my home, I grew to believe marriage was unlikely for me. Motherhood, with juvenile diabetes, was impossible. Until I married, I believed this to be true.

Perhaps I married him because nobody else had asked. Perhaps I said yes because it was better than being alone. Maybe I liked a little dependence. Someone was telling me I was pretty. He was reading and cooking. My parents liked him, but I don't believe they expected me to marry anybody.

In August of 1973, we walked down the sidewalk of the campus where we worked.  Even though I could not see myself as a bride, I felt beautiful. I thought everything was perfect.  Diabetes was not on my mind.  It was the best of times.

Babies were not on my mind either. until I was pregnant. Doctors had warned me about pregnancy. No doctor had recommended a form of birth control. All they said was 'do not let it happen. You are a long-term diabetic with complications, including blindness.  No babies!' It was the worst of times, it was the best of times. 

Pregnancy! I miscarried in February 1976.  As expected, the doctor chastised me, holding a printed list of twenty-six reasons why I should not have a baby - one for each letter of the alphabet. I was sad for a long time, losing hope. 

My husband promised me a child, and I believed him.  Like I sometimes do today, I screamed out for normalcy. My sisters and my friends had babies. By fall, I was pregnant again. Four doctors in the clinic reminded me of the warnings. Miscarriage, my health and the baby's health were discussed. However, I had to believe in the possibilities of success. I had to be positive.

There were no home blood glucose tests yet, so my husband helped me do the necessary urine tests. He came to my building at lunchtime.  When the doctors decided a hospital monitoring was a must, he visited each day. When I used the hospital like a hotel, he made me dinners.  He spoke of a faith in the pregnancy when I spoke of fears. For six weeks, I lived in the hospital. I believed, but occasionally I cried. I wanted diabetes to disappear. It was the worst of times.

On April 1, 1977, Jennifer Dawn Harmon entered this world in Albuquerque. I had been sent there two days before, where knowledge and equipment was more sophisticated.  Dawn weighed in at 5 pounds, 2 ounces. She screamed her arrival, and then became silent. In the tiny incubator, she kicked and yanked. She wanted that tube removed. So did I. I wanted to hear her yell. I longed to hold her. The C-section was not difficult on my diabetic body. In less than a week, we were going home to Alamogordo. I went home in the car. Our tiny miracle flew by helicopter.

Sometimes others wonder how I can tolerate the inability to see my beautiful daughter. I know of her beauty, without a peek. I watched her grow up; I shared experiences. The marching band, choir, vacations, proms and graduations made me as proud as any sighted mother. No one needed to know I had Type 1 diabetes and had it since 1955.

The treatment today for diabetics is changing rapidly. Pregnancy is not spoken of in the same way and there are fewer complications. Counseling and medications are open. The games of hide and secret are played less often. I do not scream out loud about it, but I talk more often. I ask myself:  What if I had taken the advice of one or two doctors in the seventies? What if I had not given birth? How lonely would I have been?  This diabetic would have missed the most important person in her life. I took a chance, and it worked.  "It was the best of times."

Fifty years following the diagnosis, it remains tough to be a Type 1 diabetic. Everyone knows what I should be doing, based upon old Aunt Sara or Cousin Margaret. Everyone tells me what to eat and medicines to take. It can still cause me to clam up, for better or worse.

Definite alterations in my behavior have developed. My only child is no longer a child. I cannot play "hide and secret" with Jennifer Dawn any longer. I must reveal all-high and low blood glucose, high blood pressure, genetic issues, my sadness and depression, my sin of envy and resentment I harbor for my former husband. 

My daughter must comprehend my need for psychological counseling. She has been forced to be a fabulous friend and positive role model for me. That's the opposite of what I thought happened in these relationships. She encourages me to present myself to the world. Poetry and programs are given to groups and guilds because she has pushed me forward. 

I am funnier because of her.  She has helped me make my life an open book, starting with the search for her on the living room floor and concluding with the lack of direction she has inherited from me. My cane is not a magic wand, and cannot always lead me where I want to go. However, we are happy in this little corner of the world by the river and the sea. We are together now, living with diabetes. It is the best of times.

 

 

The Sentence That Freed Me
   

By Pat Barrett



Editor's Note:  Pat Barrett is vice president of the NFB of Minnesota Metro Chapter and is a member of the NFB of Minnesota board of directors.



Boise, Idaho, 1973.  It was my sophomore year of high school.  I was walking to school the mile from my house as I did every day.  At that time, though legally blind, I was not using a cane, and had not heard of the National Federation of the Blind.



My mother was not crazy about me walking to school.  During junior high, I had been bused across town with kids of other disabilities.  I could not participate in extracurricular activities, as I wanted.  But my brother, Tony, urged me to go to our neighborhood school, Boise High, to do just that.



Tony and I are close.  Since we were young, we would wrestle together, and watch the same TV shows like "Get Smart" and "The Naked City".  I had a big crush on Barbara Feldon who played Agent 99.  And, we thought it would be fun to grow up and run away to the naked city, where we assumed no one there wore any clothes.  Even though I was blind, Tony would include me in ski trips with his friends where I would snow tube in the bowl while they skied.  We would go out for pizza.  Our favorites were pepperoni with green peppers (or green moms, as we called them), and anchovy.  I didn't mind that the anchovies would get stuck in my braces.



On that cloudy and gray spring day, I went to cross the street.  It was a four-way stop.  I looked to the left, but did not look to the right.  I was halfway across, when I could notice with my limited vision a blue shadow coming from the right.



Pow!  I was on the ground.  The car could not have been going more than ten miles an hour.  The driver, whose name was Roberta, stopped her car, got out, and apologized several times for hitting me.  I assured her I was OK, and continued on to school.  She followed me in her car, and again stopped to ask me as I was going into school if I was sure I was all right.  I said again that I was.



Nevertheless, she reported the accident to the office.  They reported it to my mother.  Three weeks later, Mom and I reported to traffic court.



This was the first time I had been to court.  The judge looked to be twenty feet above me on his bench, appearing stern and serious.



"Mr. Barrett," the judge asked in a deep, intimidating voice.  "What kind of car were you driving?"



My mother cleared her throat nervously.



"Your Honor," she explained.  "Patrick doesn't drive.  He is legally blind."



The judge was taken aback, and was silent for what seemed several minutes.



He then said, "Well, Mr. Barrett, you need to be using a white cane!"



That spring, the itinerant teacher with the Idaho State School for the Deaf and Blind began my cane travel training a couple of times a week for an hour after school.  Though the cane was short and aluminum, and would sometimes fold up in the middle of the street, I found it gave me a new freedom and confidence.  I did not have to look down at the ground all the time.  That was bad for my posture.  The cane could tell me if I was running into something like a table or even a cord on the floor. 



Doing my paper route, (which my brother had given me in ninth grade), walking to the store several blocks away to pick up the newest Carly Simon album, or still going out with my brother was easier.  One time I remember cruising down Main Street in his blue VW bug, sun roof open, and us singing to "Jesus Christ:  Superstar" on the 8-track tape player at the top of our lungs.



I took my white cane with me on choir trips to southeast Idaho and southwest Oregon.  I wrestled my junior and senior year.  I went out for track in my senior year.



At one out-of-town track meet, I still remember the cinder track feel under my feet, I laid my cane on the grass by where I started.  I took the inner path, and started running the half-mile flat out.  I knew others were passing me, but I was still determined to do my best in one of the last meets of the season.  I finished in 2 minutes, 48 seconds - a record for me.  My team and my coach were proud. 



Before graduation, I earned a handsome college scholarship for my newspaper carrier service for The Idaho Statesman, holding a 3.6 grade average and my lettering in sports.  That summer, I attended the Idaho Commission for the Blind, where I had the liberating opportunity to attend my first National Federation of the Blind convention in Chicago.  Hundreds of people were going out to eat, getting to meetings, and talking about their jobs and raising families with confidence being blind-all with either a long, white cane or dog guide.  Small kids were running about with white canes.  I knew then that blindness did not need to be a wall I had to get around, but that it was simply a part of me, not a problem.



In 1988 and 1989, I had the opportunity to work in St. Louis and teach blind people how to use and travel independently with the long, white cane.  I felt good about passing along what skills I had learned from the skills I had acquired over the years.  In 1993, I attended a more comprehensive training program at Blindness:  Learning in New Dimensions (BLIND), Inc.  There for nine months I learned to go across town and cross streets using the long, white cane, read braille, use the computer, and cook and barbecue.



Today, I go wherever I want with the cane.  My adult daughter and I go on occasional daddy-daughter dates.  I sometimes take my wife, who is also blind, out dancing.  But if I were to meet that judge again, I would vigorously shake his hand, and buy him the most scrumptious steak dinner in town for giving me the sentence that freed me!



 

Schreiber's Half Marathon Walk

By Art Schreiber

Have you ever committed to doing something in the future and then wondered why you ever agreed to do it?  I was talking with my friend, Linda Blanchard and her husband, Bomi Parakh.  They mentioned the Duke City Marathon and we agreed it would be fun to try the half marathon walk.  Much later I had, as one of my guests on my radio program, Dr. Barbara McAneny, President and CEO of the NM Cancer Center.  Barbara mentioned her sponsorship of the Duke City Marathon and, with no thought, I said, "I'm going to do the half marathon walk."  When the program was finished I began to think about what I had committed to and wondered why?  So, I began training.  I try to work out in the gym at least six days per week.  I alternate on a recumbent bike and a treadmill plus weight training.  I began increasing time on the treadmill and a week prior to the walk I was doing 4 miles in 62 minutes.  That's not enough to prepare for a 13 and one half mile walk.  I called my friend, Rick Walsh, and asked him if he would walk with me.  He agreed. 
 
The Sunday of the big event Rick picked me up and we headed for Civic Plaza. The half marathon walk began at 8 a.m.  The gun went off and we were off. Within a few blocks we were trailing the other walkers.  I remembered the route since it was where I used to run, before I tore up my knees, and when I lived near the famous bike path along Tingley and northward to the Nature Center.  Only this walk went much farther than I used to run.  It went 13 1/2 miles!  I lost all track of time.  My ankles began to ache, as did my knees, and half way I had a terrible cramp in my left calf.  I was too proud to complain and too stubborn to quit.  We continued and now the half marathon runners and marathon runners were heading home while I was praying to turn around!  The turnaround finally came and the cramp in my leg eased while my ankles and knees didn't seem to hurt as much.  
 
Finally, the finish line was close.  I told my partner, Rick, to go ahead of me because I wanted to finish last.  And I did.  The results on the internet showed 209 walkers finished and Art Schreiber was 209th.  However, I was first in my age group because I was the only one in my age group!  There was a 73 year old who had finished and we were the only ones over 69.  My time was 5 hours and 57 seconds.  Next year my goal is to get under five hours!

Many spectators along the route applauded Rick and me.  I think they felt sorry for us because we were so far behind.  When they applauded I would ask, "Is it still Sunday?"

 
This and That

 

Christine Hall, President of the New Mexico affiliate reports that they held a Possibilities Fair in Farmington, New Mexico.  There were 65 people registered for the event, some of whom were very new to blindness and vision loss.  Archie Silago and Art Schreiber both gave motivational keynote speeches during the luncheon, and from some of the comments, I could tell that people were touched by the remarks giving them hope to move on with their lives with their new disability.  There were also two breakout sessions facilitated by Don and Nancy Burns which were beneficial as well.  Thanks to everyone who contributed to making the Possibilities Fair a success and a special thanks to members of the San Juan Chapter.  I recently spoke to Tami McCray, President of the San Juan Chapter, who said many of the people who attended the Possibilities Fair have begun attending chapter meetings.  One of our goals in hosting this event was to help this chapter with its membership growth, and it appears that we succeeded.



 

Editor's note: The following was supposed to be in the Braille Monitor with the NFBSD recipes, but it was e-mailed to the wrong person, so here it is, enjoy!

MUSHROOM MAGIC
 
Mushrooms create magic because they create smiles, even on the face of the cook.  Strangers to the blind frequently ask:  how do you cook?  I answer:  easily!  The truth is that I rarely measure, or I cook many items, which do not demand precise measurements.  "Throw in a little more here and a little more there.  As a senior, I smile at my cooking success using the "no measure" technique!
 
So, here is how I make stuffed mushrooms.
 
24 mushrooms, thrown in a plastic bag at the market
1/2 stick of butter
1 chopped onion, large in any color
Garlic (I have discovered jars of garlic pieces.)
Cheese, any kind at all
Bread crumbs, any kind at all
Combination of sauces, Oriental and Mexican
 
Cook garlic, onions, mushroom stems in butter, stirring.  Add breadcrumbs and mix.  Delicately pour in combination of sauces.  (In my refrigerator there are those I forgot I had.  At my daughter's I discover surprise ginger sauces.  Use it all!)  Be gentle with spicy ones.  Sprinkle in handfuls of chopped cheese, permitting it to melt as it is added.  The consistency should be somewhat thick and somewhat thin.
 
Taste.  Ingredients should stick together.  If scrumptious, spoon into mushrooms.  Place them in oven and bake for at least half an hour.

Parmesan may be sprinkled on top.

 

 

Chapter on Aging Meets

 

By Pat Munson

 

This chapter meets annually at the NFB of California convention. This year was no different. We welcomed everyone as our members and friends progressed through the registration process chaired by Jack Munson. 

 

Before the meeting got under way, board member, Mike Couey walked around the room and had everyone introduced so we would know who was in the room, and so we could give everyone a big welcome. The only problem was our missing treasurer, Jim Willows, but more about him later.

 

The meeting got under way with the business meeting. Secretary, Ellen Clegg, read the minutes, we skipped the treasurer's report and moved to old business. Our 50-50 drawing was carried over from last year for we had a dollar or two which had not been collected. New business brought the discussion of the NFB Senior Division newsletter. We want this publication even more widely circulated. We talked about how we can take cassette copies to places where older persons losing vision congregate. Those wanting to be on the mailing list should contact President, Judy Sanders.

This year we elected three board members. They are: Joy Stigile, Eric Clegg, and Mike Couey. Election for officers will be next year. The holdovers are: Pat Munson, president; Jana Littrell, vice president; Ellen Clegg, secretary; and Jim Willows treasurer.

 

One of our members, Pat Weisman told of an event she hosted at a public gathering to show the public about blindness throughout the life of Louis Braille. She said the event was very successful. We thank her for all her work.

 

Our National rep. Fred Schroeder told of his mother's problems dealing with loss of vision in her last years. When dealing with older persons, we must remember that vision loss is usually only one of many health problems these persons face. We must work with them at their pace and help them as best we can.

 

The keynote speaker, Brenda Deloach, spoke to us via modern technology. She lives in Baltimore and told of her journey into blindness. 

 

While she was working, she noticed she was having trouble seeing. She got to a wonderful program for seniors losing vision in Baltimore and learned the skills she needed to go on with her life. 

 

The full text of her talk will appear in an upcoming issue of the NFB Senior Division Newsletter, so make sure you are on the mailing list.

 

Note, the NFB Senior Division meets at the NFB convention. The meetings are fun and informative. If you plan to attend the next NFB convention, be sure to attend the meeting. 

 

Before the meeting adjourned our treasurer appeared. I think he had been napping. We all understand. After his report we voted to donate one-hundred dollars to the NFBC because we must all strive to forward our work. We also voted to hold our famous drawing at next year's convention. Note this year's drawing collected three-hundred and fifty dollars. The drawing was at the banquet. Mary Willows pulled the winning ticket. The winner of one-hundred and seventy five dollars was Mike Couey.

 

Many of our members have been in the Federation for decades and have been the recipients of those open doors to jobs. John and Diana Bates were employed for many years as was Jim Willows and me, Pat Munson. Our vice president, Jana Littrell and secretary, Ellen Clegg are still working. We know the value of the collective action in NFB and will continue to assist others to understand its value. 

 

If you missed the meeting this year, please join us in 2011 and help us do even more to forward our work in NFB.

 

 

Your Duck is Dead

A woman brought a very limp duck into a veterinary surgeon. As she laid her pet on the  table, the vet pulled out his stethoscope and listened to the bird's  chest.

After a moment or two, the vet shook his head and sadly said, "I'm sorry, your duck, Cuddles, has passed away."

The distressed woman wailed, "Are you sure?"

"Yes, I am sure. Your duck is dead," replied the vet..

"How can you be so sure?" she protested. "I mean you haven't done any testing on him or anything. He might just be in a coma or something."

The vet rolled his eyes, turned around and left the room. He returned a few minutes later with a black Labrador Retriever. As the duck's owner looked on in amazement, the dog stood on his hind legs, put his front paws on the examination table and sniffed the duck from top to bottom. He then looked up at the vet with sad eyes and shook his head.

The vet patted the dog on the head and took it out of the room. A few minutes later he returned with a cat. The cat jumped on the table and also delicately sniffed the bird from head to foot. The cat sat back on its haunches,  shook its head, meowed softly and strolled out of the room.

The vet looked at the woman and said, "I'm sorry, but as I said, this is most  definitely, 100% certifiably, a dead duck."

The vet turned to his computer terminal, hit a few keys and produced a bill, which he handed to  the woman..

The duck's owner, still in shock, took the bill.  "$150!" she cried, "$150 just to tell me my duck is dead!"

The vet  shrugged, "I'm sorry. If you had just taken my word for it, the bill would  have been $20, but with the Lab Report and the Cat Scan, it's now  $150." 

If  you're smiling, you must pass it on, give someone else a smile too!