[stylist] Kuell article in Braille Monitor

[Bridgit Pollpeter]

Stylist,

Our own Chris Kuell has an article in the current issue of The Braille
Monitor. Congrats, Chris.

              Change Our Lives-Why I Go to National Convention
                               by Chris Kuell

      From the Editor: This example of how attending the NFB national
convention has changed the lives of many of us is reprinted from the
Fall/Winter 2012 issue of the Federationist in Connecticut, a
publication of the National Federation of the Blind of Connecticut which
is edited by Chris Kuell. He is the president of the Danbury chapter of
the National Federation of the Blind of Connecticut.
      Most of us who faithfully attend NFB annual conventions have
stories about the impact our first convention had on us. This is what
Chris says about attending his first national convention:

      In the summer of 1998 my wife and I entrusted the care of our kids
to my brother and his wife, said a few prayers, and headed to Dallas for
our first NFB national convention. My gut was full of anxiety, both
because it was our first time leaving the kids for more than a few hours
and because of the unknown that the convention was to me then. I really
had no idea what to expect, except that a blind friend named Betty
Woodward had encouraged us to go. She told us it would change our lives.
Since my entire life had been overturned in the previous year after I
lost my vision, I figured any further change could only be positive.
      We caught a shuttle van from the airport to the hotel. A guy on
the seat next to me asked if I was going to the NFB convention, and I
said, yes, how about him? He told me he was going to his fifth
convention. His name was Ed, and he was from Detroit. I asked whom he
was traveling with and got my first shock of the week. "Nobody" he said.
      "Nobody?" I asked, trying to wrap my head around this concept. I
had received a white cane from our state agency for the blind and even
knew my way to my kids' school and the local Rite-Aid, but the concept
of traveling to another state alone was beyond my comprehension. How
could you find the door? How could you find the front desk to check
in--or your room, for that matter? My brain nearly burst with questions.
      I held my wife's elbow tightly as we checked in at the front desk,
surrounded by blind people. Several asked my wife for directions, which
she gave. We had to walk down a long hallway to another building to get
to our room. As we walked, I heard little feet and kids laughing as they
sprinted by. "You won't believe it," my wife said. "That was three blind
kids, racing with their canes down the corridor."
      Blind kids, running? Once again my mind was filled with one
question: how? We spent the afternoon listening to talks. I popped into
a meeting of blind diabetics and another full of blind scientists and
engineers. Before dinner we went to the pool for a swim. There I met
Dan, a blind computer teacher who answered some of my many questions
about JAWS. We spoke with two women who had driven down from upstate New
York with a van full of kids. I talked with a blind single mom who was
raising a daughter the same age as my son. She worked as an accountant
at a company in Virginia.
      My wife wanted to clean up before dinner, and she turned the TV on
for me before showering. I listened as a man with a strong voice and a
slight Tennessee drawl spoke about a blind man who was sitting at home
waiting for someone to help him. He said the guy called and called his
state agency for the blind, but they rarely called him back, and, when
they did, they rarely did anything for him. They reminded him of all the
things he couldn't do. The man felt worthless, he felt afraid, and he
lost all hope for the future. As I listened, tears began to stream down
my cheeks. The man on the television said he was talking about a guy
named Bill, but I didn't think that was the case. He was talking about
me.
      After dinner we went to the bar, where I learned another
truth-blind people like to drink. I talked with a guy named Mike from
Canada and a man named Felix from San Diego, who had lost his sight, had
it restored through surgery, and then lost it again. I heard stories of
frustration, stories of adventures, and stories that made me laugh so
hard my belly hurt. I felt more relaxed than I had since the day the
doctor had removed the bandages from my eyes and I couldn't see
anything.
      After a week we left Dallas, and both my wife and I had changed.
She didn't want me clutching her elbow anymore, and she wanted me to try
doing more things by myself. Rather than my questioning how other blind
people did things, I thought to myself-if they can do it, I can do it as
well.
      In 1999 we brought the kids with us to the convention in Atlanta,
and in 2000 I attended the national convention by myself. I've been to
conventions in Philadelphia, Louisville, and back to Atlanta again. With
each convention I meet new people, make more friends, and come home
reenergized to make a difference in the world.