[NFBMD] Next TLC Chapter Meeting on Monday, August 15 (Virtual)

Fri Aug 12 13:53:08 UTC 2022

Dear TLC Chapter Members and Friends,

Our next TLC chapter meeting is just a few days away. We will be meeting
virtually this month. Please join us on Monday, August 15, at 7:00 PM via
Zoom (Zoom details are at the end of this message). We will be talking about
what is going on at NFB at the chapter, affiliate, and national levels.
Millie Rivera will be giving us "A Hint from a Member."

A thank you to all who assisted with our chapter raffle during and after
convention. Chris Danielsen was the lucky winner of the Apple AirPod/AirTag
package and our treasury is getting a much needed boost.

This month we will be discussing Aloma Bouma's Kernel Book Story: "Blind
Lady Coming Down!" published in To Reach for the Stars. The text follows
below my signature. 

To dial into the meeting, call 301-715-8592. Once the call connects and you
are prompted, you will then need to enter the meeting ID, which is: 874 9717
3782. You will then need to enter the passcode 968851. The link is: 

https://us02web.zoom.us/j/87497173782?pwd=NC92ZWtrZ2dJQzdvUmhNODJUM0lqZz09

You can also simply tap the following number on your smart phone: 

+13017158592,, 87497173782#,,,,*968851#

We look forward to talking with you all via Zoom on Monday.

Cordially,

Ellen Ringlein, Secretary

National Federation of the Blind TLC Chapter

Blind Lady Coming Down!

by Aloma Bouma

Aloma Bouma grew up in Nebraska and now lives in Baltimore, Maryland, where
she has been a leader in the National Federation of the Blind for many
years. Her blindness has never prevented her from pursuing her love of
travel. Here she tells of her experiences while visiting the British
Parliament:

One of the minor regrets in my life is that I did not choose to study and
work in the fields of anthropology and archeology. Too long after college
and too late to develop a successful career in either of these fields, I
discovered my love for them. This failure has deprived me of travel in the
areas of the world most closely associated with human development-travel I
would have thoroughly enjoyed and still hope to do some day. This does not
mean, however, that I have not traveled. I love traveling and make special
efforts to fit visits to other countries into my life whenever I can.

During one visit to London I found myself with some free time for
sightseeing. Everyone who visits London looks forward to hitting the usual
tourist sites: the changing of the guard at Buckingham Palace, a visit to
St. Paul's Cathedral or Westminster Abbey, a ride on the top of a
double-decker bus, a trip to Windsor Castle or Hampton Court, a ferry ride
down the Thames, or a stroll along Oxford Street for some power shopping.
Having done all those things on previous trips, I decided to check out
Trafalgar Square and visit the Houses of Parliament and Big Ben. 

As a member of the National Federation of the Blind, I have spent some time
visiting my Senators and Representatives and the U.S. Capitol. Additionally,
I have observed Congress in action both on C-SPAN broadcasts and from the
congressional observation seating for visitors, and I have seen bits and
pieces of American broadcasts from England's Parliament. None of this,
however, prepared me for what I found at the Houses of Parliament. 

As I entered the large and impressive building with Big Ben sounding from
its tower above, I was immediately struck by a sense of history, power, and
solemnity. The area was hushed, with very few employees or visitors around.
I approached a visitor information desk and asked about visiting hours and
opportunities to observe the Houses in session. 

I learned that I was welcome to observe the House of Lords from balcony
seating. Someone would be happy to show me the way immediately. Needless to
say, I was thrilled. Very soon someone accompanied me through the corridors
toward the entrance to the Lords' visitor's area. The atmosphere remained
quiet, and, even though my sense of anticipation was building, I continued
to be awed by the dignity that surrounded me. 

After passing through the maze of ropes and enduring security screenings
intensive by any standards, I was shown where to enter the balcony. Just
before I slipped quietly in, I was ever so properly and politely reminded to
remain silent and to demonstrate respect for the work that was being
conducted. I spent about an hour watching with fascination and respect, even
though I cannot now tell you what the discussion was about. 

The Members behaved exactly as I had expected them to: very dignified, quiet
and soft-spoken, respectful to one another, and moving through their
business with courteous precision. I felt my overwhelming good fortune as I
recognized not only that I, an American visitor, could share this moment but
also that as a blind person I had had the ability and confidence to travel
alone to London, seek out historic sites, and participate in the things
countless other tourists do every day. 

After a time I decided to inquire about visiting the House of Commons. At
this point things first began to change. As I walked back through security
upon leaving the House of Lords, I asked if someone could direct me to the
House of Commons visitor seating. I was told that someone would be happy to
show me, and off we went. However, my experience at the Commons was quite
different from the routine at the Lords visitor entrance. 

As we approached, I noticed no visitors, ropes, security screening, or large
entrance area. I was conducted through a relatively small door leading to a
winding staircase. When I inquired where we were going, I was told this was
the entrance to the Commons viewing area. 

Something was clearly wrong, but with no previous experience of the area, I
wasn't sure precisely what. I asked again if this was the usual way for
visitors to reach the observation area for the House, and I was once again
assured that this was the proper path. But we were ascending a narrow
stairway obviously not meant for the public. I asked to be shown the public
entrance, explaining that I had not wanted special treatment or
opportunities different from those provided to other members of the general
public. 

I found myself facing a real dilemma. The philosophy I had learned from the
National Federation of the Blind has taught me to believe both in myself as
a blind person and in the importance of participating in society the way my
sighted friends do. However, here I was, in a foreign country, unfamiliar
with many of the customs, and especially unfamiliar with parliamentary staff
attitudes about blindness. How could I make my point without offending them
and appearing to become a rude, impolite, ungrateful American tourist? 

Not sure I was making the right choice, I decided not to make a scene by
arguing. I chose to comply with the requirements but to make a point of
discussing the matter with someone before I left the building. Perhaps I
could provide a little public education and make it easier for future blind
visitors. I was shown into the balcony through a door leading to an aisle
behind the back row of seats. Along that back wall, under a speaker, a man
placed a wooden chair. 

Leaving the House of Commons, however, turned out to be just as frustrating
as arriving had been. I bid the gentleman good day and stepped toward the
winding stairs. Before I could descend, though, the ushers stopped me.
Wouldn't I please take the elevator down so that I wouldn't hurt myself?
Apparently in their view going up the stairs is not as dangerous for the
blind as going down. 

No, I said, I would be fine on the stairs. I simply said no thank you, and
took off alone down the long staircase. When I reached the halfway point, I
heard one of the men bellowing from the top of the stairs. "Blind lady
coming down!" he yelled to his colleagues at the bottom. I didn't know
whether to laugh or cry.

For a long time I reflected on my experiences in Parliament-the contrast
between my House of Lords visit, which went so smoothly, and the one to the
Commons, which went so differently. 

Mostly, when I think about it now, I am grateful for the National Federation
of the Blind and for what I have learned of the strong self-confidence and
ability that ground us. We have each other to turn to when we do not know
all of the answers or find ourselves facing situations in which no answer
seems the perfect choice. I wouldn't trade my experience in Parliament for
anything. It strengthened my need to hold to personal convictions under
unfavorable circumstances, and it taught me that sometimes diplomacy and
cultural differences must be balanced against individual philosophy and
principles.

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