[stylist] Writers' division - Fall 2013, Issue of "Slate & Style"

[Robert Leslie Newman]

Attached and pasted in below is the Fall 2013 issue of "Slate & Style)

 

 

SlateNFB_whozidt

              &

            Style

 

 

Publication of the National Federation of the Blind Writers' Division

 

Fall 2013

 

Vol. 31, No. 4

 




 




Slate & Style

 

Fall 2013

 

 

Senior Editor:               Bridgit Kuenning-Pollpeter,
<mailto:bpollpeter at hotmail.com> bpollpeter at hotmail.com

Assistant Editor:           Chris Kuell,  <mailto:ckuell at comcast.net>
ckuell at comcast.net

Assistant Editor:           Katherine Watson,  <mailto:watsonkm05 at gmail.com>
watsonkm05 at gmail.com

Contributing Editor:      Robert Kingett,  <mailto:kingettr at gmail.com>
kingettr at gmail.com

Layout Editor:               Ross Pollpeter,
<mailto:rpollpeter at hotmail.com> rpollpeter at hotmail.com

President:                     Robert Leslie Newman,
<mailto:bpollpeter at hotmail.com> newmanrl at cox.net

 

 

Slate & Style is a quarterly publication of the National Federation of the
Blind Writers' Division. Submission guidelines are printed at the end of
this publication. The editor and division president have the right to cut
and revise submissions. The senior editor and Division president has final
authority regarding publication for any submission.

 

Slate & Style is a magazine showcasing literary writing as well as articles
providing information and helpful advice about various writing formats.
While a publication of the National Federation of the Blind, submissions
don't have to be specific to blindness or the NFB.

Thank you to Victor Hemphill for embossing and distributing our Braille
copies.


Slate & Style

 

Fall 2013

 

TABLE of Contents

 

>From the Desk of the Editor by Bridgit Kuenning-Pollpeter <>  1

>From the Keyboard of the President by Robert Leslie Newman <> . 2

Aquatic Adventures by Danielle Sykora <> . 7

Embers by Myrna Badgerow <> .. 10

Using a Newsletter as a Marketing Tool by Rachel Carver <>  11

Of Pink Elephants and Trees with Lopsided Breasts: How I Reclaimed My
Adventurous Side by Chris Parsons <> . 13

The Martian Child, by David Gerrard by Shawn Jacobson. 20

A Brother by Linda E. Vaillancourt <>  22

I am from by Rupa Elizabeth Sprecher <>  23

Slate & Style Submission Guidelines. 25

2014 NFB Writers <> ' Writing Contest 27

NFB Writers <> ' Division Critique Service. 28

Slate & Style Seeking Submissions for Holiday Issue. 29

NFB WRITERS <> ' DIVISION MEMBERSHIP.. 30

Where the Blind Work <> . 31

 

 




 


>From the Desk of the Editor
by Bridgit Kuenning-Pollpeter


 

A new year has arrived, and if you're anything like me, you are excited to
see what new opportunities may present themselves throughout the year.
Despite negative past experiences and the inevitable cynicism following its
wake, the New Year is a time for hope, a time to refresh, restart and keep
trying.

 

After receiving several rejections for an essay, a publication finally
accepted it. I was informed of this exciting news back in December. 13th
Floor, a twice-annual anthology produced by the University of Nebraska
Omaha, released its spring issue January 13, and it contained my creative
nonfiction essay, Give a Cheer for all the Broken.

 

Like many of you, I was beginning to lose hope and faith in my ability to
write. It had been some time since my last publication, and as most writers
know this can make you second-guess your skills.

 

We've all been here, biting our nails, not sleeping, pulling our hair out,
wondering why we can't get an acceptance letter. Revising and editing,
rearranging, trying to stitch a particular piece together to fit a
particular publication. It can be nerve-racking and depressing.

 

Yet we must not be defeated. In this line of work, we will encounter
rejection, we will wrestle with writers block, but adopting a defeatist
attitude never helps us reach our best.

 

In the NFB, we speak endlessly about being positive, seeking answers, not
giving up and defying negative attitudes and perceptions to reach our full
potential. Well, these ideals can be translated to any aspect of life. As
writers, we should embody these concepts. It's not always easy, but positive
thinking goes a long way to assist in reaching goals.

 

So, as 2014 continues to unwind, look for the opportunities. Dust off those
manuscripts and work on new pieces. Focus on what you want to accomplish as
a writer, figure out what you need to achieve it. Study the type of writing
you hope to emulate and try to discover an original voice, a style that you
can own. And be positive. The key is always being positive.

 

Sincerely,

Bridgit Kuenning-Pollpeter




 


>From the Keyboard of the President
by Robert Leslie Newman


 

Welcome to our fall issue of Slate & Style. I just came in from outdoors,
the weather is beautiful. The air is cool, and I only need a light jacket.
The forecast calls for light breezes, blue skies and a temp topping -out
around sixty-six. And you know what, here is a quirk of mine: numbers
usually serve as a memory spark, but more on that later.

 

First, a few Division updates: 

 

1.   Slate & Style (S&S):

 

Allow me to again recognize and thank the staff of S & S. They have been
thinking, planning and working to initiate new and creative user-friendly
features to our Division's publications. I say publications because have you
read our very first NFB Writers' annual writing contest anthology? 2013
Writing Contest Winners is available as a free download on our Division's
website, URL below.

 

Also, in terms of availability of Division publications, we are again making
past issues of S&S available for reading and download from our Division's
website.

 

Finishing this section," I want to point out my favorite new feature
available with electronic copies of the magazine. It is the use of imbedded
live-links in the electronic text which will instantly take you to specific
sections within the mag itself. So hey S&S staff, keep up the good work!

 

2.   Division Website News:

 

As reported within the summer issue of this mag, our Division's website is
in transition. Firstly, we do have a new URL, and that address is:
<http://writers.nfb.org/> http://writers.nfb.org.

 

Note, and maybe you know this, but it's no longer required to use www in a
web address.

 

Our site is housed upon The NFB's server, nfbnet.org, and there's no cost
for the Division. Furthermore, it is piggy-backed on to the servers address
in such a way, that we do not need to purchase a domain name, which is
another savings for the Division.

 

Our second major website news is that we are again looking for a volunteer
webmaster. Presently, I am doing the work, and though I can build a decent
site, I know there are more sophisticated software developers and more
knowledgeable webmasters out there. So if there is an interested,
experienced web designer, write me at  <mailto:newmanrl at cox.net>
newmanrl at cox.net. Send a resume, if you have one, and draft a brief website
strategy you may use for the Division site.

 

Until we do get a new webmaster, I will continue to add content, but I may
not get too elaborate with it.

 

3.   2014 Writing Contest:

 

Division members are busy advertising our 2014 writing contest. The opening
date for submissions began January first, and the closing date is April
first. Elsewhere in these pages, you will find more about the writing
contest, including how to submit.

 

Now I bring you back to the thought-provoker rambling around inside my head.
Earlier I informed you that numbers often spark memories for me, and the
number sixty-six brought the following to mind for me back on that autumn
day I spoke of in the beginning of this article:

 

Sixty-six flashed a memory of the 1960s television series, Route 66. It was
one of my favorites. Not sure you know of it, but two guys and their
Chevrolet Corvette had adventures traveling up highway US 66, which then was
a major route from the east to west coasts. And to be more specific, what
appeared in my mind's eye was a scene from one episode, which might be my
earliest introduction to encountering blindness.

 

To set this up: One of the two friends has recently become blind. I don't
recall all the specifics, but I believe it is the result of a bar-room fight
where he received a blow to the head. The scene is of his friend driving up
to a training center where his buddy is receiving blindness rehabilitation.
The dramatic focus is of the expression in his face when he spots his friend
walking with a small group of other trainees, hands sliding along
guide-ropes connecting one building to another.

 

Why this memory, which then begs the question, why this particular episode?
Blindness! Hollywood and the film industry are, if anything, exploiters of
sensationalism, and blindness is drama! Drama and blindness, I didn't see
that connection coming, but drama, yeah, blindness serves it up, doesn't it?
And so, here is the connection with my thought-provoking closing of this
Keyboard article, thinking on the drama of blindness.

 

The thought-provoking challenge I leave with you is titled, Braille Literacy
Crisis at the Ball Park. 

 

Recently I was out at the mall shopping, when a young guy came up to me and
asked, "Are you the man who spoke at the start of that Storm Chasers game?
You told us about literacy, and what was happening to blind students."

 

This was a great thing to hear. The comment brought that day at the ballpark
all back to me, and if this guy still remembered, it must have affected
others too.

 

Nebraska had its first BELL program in July of 2012. It was a very memorable
event. I am compelled to share what I told to a nearly full baseball stadium
while participating in a community days event.

 

An afternoon at the ball park was an activity we arranged for our students.
Our Bell program was recognized as one of that day's community supporters
for the Storm Chasers, a double A team for the Kansas City Royals. One of
our students threw the first pitch, and Barbara Loos represented us on
radio, talking from the announcer's booth. From the field, I addressed the
crowd gathered.

 

In figuring out how I could personalize my remarks, I did some research and
learned that day was for youth athletic teams, and the majority present were
school aged boys and girls. I knew my time to address the crowd would be
short, and I wanted to impact them, have them walk away from the park
remembering my comments about the reality of blindness for kids.

Standing on the field, holding a microphone, employing some drama for my
presentation, here is what I shared with the crowd: 

 

Did you know there is a literacy crisis today in our schools for blind
students? There is, and we are doing something about it.

 

I am one of the teachers for our BELL program. BELL is an acronym for-
Braille Enrichment for Literacy & Learning. This program is sponsored by the
National Federation of the Blind, the country's largest consumer group of
the Blind; we are the blind speaking for ourselves. 

 

Our BELL students are blind, though a few have some useable vision, but the
reality is that print really isn't the most efficient method for reading and
writing. BELL was developed because most of these students aren't getting
encouragement or training in Braille in their schools. We in the NFB know
Braille is a viable path to literacy and works better for blind students.
BELL is a sort of summer school that can boost the skills of those who have
begun learning Braille, and encouraging others to learn it.

 

I know all you guys here today are still on summer break. But hey, when
classes start, think about if this were to happen to you: The first day back
at school, and you're told to line up in groups of one-hundred. You're
informed there will be a major change in how your literacy needs will be
handled. Each group will be sub-divided in the following manner:

 

For the first ten, your reading materials, books and computer screens will
not change. Regular size print works well and is sufficient for you, so that
is what you will continue to get.

 

The second sub-group, the next sixty-five, will also get print. However,
your reading material is going to be different. Some of you will get print,
where the font is super big, books so large you can only carry a couple of
them around in your backpack. And on your electronic devices, the font will
be so large, you will only be able to see one or two words at a time.

 

Then some of you will have print super small. Yeah you can read it, but you
will have to strain and work at it. And the rest of this sub-group will have
to strain to use books and monitors where the font is either really faint in
contrast, or blurry, or both. 

 

Then the last 25, all your reading and writing will be done audibly. No
hardcopy books, no screens to look at, all will be done with your hearing,
using synthesized speech. 

 

To put this in perspective for you, in the second and third sub-groups, your
ability to study is now going to be severely changed. Where studying took
one hour, now it will be two or three or four hours. And for those of you
with the funky print, if it is a lot of reading, and you are straining to
see it, your eyes are going to feel like they're going through a melt-down,
and your head is going to explode.

 

Then for you guys who are only hearing the words, audio is adequate for some
things, however you will miss features like seeing how words are spelled,
and figuring out punctuation and formatting will drive you nuts.

Think of how inefficient reading methods will impact your literacy, your
performance in school. Hello, join the club, this is what most blind
students experience on a daily basis. And if this was really to happen to
you, expect that a lot of you are going to get fed-up and quit school.

 

Finally, think about your future. If reading is hard for you, how will this
affect the type of job you can get?




 


Aquatic Adventures
by Danielle Sykora


 

Stretching to the horizon, the entire expanse of clear blue water sparkled
in the streaming sunlight. Shining brightly, the sun slowly warmed the
surface of the sand and waves. Shielded from the penetrating rays, the
underlying layers of sand and water retained their slightly cooler
temperature.

 

Crashing to the shore, the waves produced ample sea foam which lay upon the
sand like a protective blanket. Retreating back into the ocean, the waves
swept the sand free of shells, seaweed, and other debris, only to return it
with the next rush of water. Fish flopped on the bare sand as the receding
water momentarily left them stranded on dry land, leaving them with no
lifeline, no chance of survival as the water swished mere inches away. The
rift between them remained impossibly small yet insurmountable. 

 

As the tide came in, the water lapped at the sand, slowly creeping up the
beach, gaining a few inches at a time. The elaborately designed sand castle,
once safely out of reach of the water, was effortlessly annihilated by the
incoming tide.

 

The cool sea breeze blew through the palm trees; the only factor which
alleviated the intense heat of the middle of the afternoon. Waving gently,
the leaves seemed to move of their own accord, the force which moved them
invisible. Shells of all shapes and sizes littered the grainy sand, some
smooth and rounded, others rigid with intricate details. Residing in the air
were the pungent scents of salt water, sunscreen, stringy seaweed, and slimy
fish, all combining to form the unmistakable smell of the ocean. 

 

Short expanses of bare sand were interspersed with resilient palm trees
which provided well-needed shade. Running across the scorching sand, I
sought the sheltering palm trees. Coconut scented sunscreen protected my
skin from the burning sun; however, my feet were left exposed to the
extremely hot sand.

 

When I finally reached the safety of the ocean, I thought I was out of reach
of the perilous heat of the sand; however, there were new horrors awaiting
me. Scattered over the sandy seafloor were numerous shells, rocks, and bits
of coral, some with smooth, worn surfaces, others decorated in a layer of
algae.

 

Curious to see whether the shells were inhabited, I plucked several from the
seabed to explore. Most of the shells had been abandoned; however, many
others were occupied by various miniscule sea creatures which were unknown
to me at the time.

 

Schools of colorful tropical fish swam smoothly around my feet in the
shallow water. Their sleek bodies decorated with stripes or mottled with
multicolored patches, they were equipped with instantaneous camouflage at
the slightest sign of danger. Traveling through the surprisingly warm
liquid, they remained just out of reach, maintaining their devious paths. At
any sign of movement, they rapidly vanished, skillfully evading capture. 

 

Inhabiting every water molecule were millions of microscopic creatures:
plankton, which provide food for so many; diatoms, with their glass encased
bodies; bacteria, both beneficial and sinister; viruses, prowling the water
in search of a host.

 

Venturing farther into the sea, I noticed the number of rocks and shells
steadily decreasing with each step. Constantly shifting and settling, the
uneven sand was forever being reconstructed by the current.

 

Freely floating strands of seaweed precariously wrapped themselves around
me, these treacherous multicellular protists being utterly unavoidable. 

 

Just like the seaweed, my long, wet, curly hair was pulled on by the current
and scattered by the waves. Soaked with the sticky salty liquid, the strands
quickly tangled together. At this point, I was really regretting not putting
my hair up in a ponytail.

 

The movement of the water as it rose and fell was a crucial indicator of the
size of the waves, and the time they would arrive; for example, a sudden
decrease in water level meant a wave was imminent. Also, the amount the
water dropped was proportionate to the height of the wave. I listened
carefully to the sound the water created, attempting to avoid the waves,
desperately trying to determine their size and speed.

 

Each excursion beneath the waves carried me even deeper into an unfamiliar
world, unknown and unappreciated, teeming with life and mysteries just
waiting to be discovered. Hidden within its murky depths are unimaginable
secrets which I became forever dedicated to unveil.

 

Aquatic Adventures won first place in the high school category for NFB
Writers' 2013 writing contest.

 

Danielle Sykora is a junior in high school. She is involved in 4H, the FFA,
choir, and she throws shot-put and discus on the track and field team.

 

Sykora's favorite subjects include science (particularly biology), math, and
writing. In the future, she plans to become a marine biologist. She also
enjoys spending time with animals, especially her pet dog and rabbit. 

 

Sykora enjoys short stories as well as descriptive writing. She chose to
write a short story, focusing on an extremely limited period of time,
attempting to explain it in vivid detail. Her story was inspired by her
fascination with the marine environment as well as her love of science.
Using her experiences obtained through summer trips to beaches along with
marine biology lessons, she set out to write this short story.




 


Embers
by Myrna Badgerow



Days have settled themselves within the comfort
Of passing time and flames of youth have died,
Leaving only embers and ash to light
The paths of coming winters, the moments
Not lived, the memories unmade.
Each lies quietly upon low burning fires,
Mourning not loss of time and its past seasons,
But waiting to catch and thrive, becoming new flame,
To live in my next lifetime, where embers
Of youth lie within arms of unborn days.

 

Embers won second place in the adult poetry category for NFB Writers' 2013
writing contest.

 

Myrna Badgerow is a native of Louisiana's bayou country and has been writing
for 13 years. She is widowed, the mother of three grown children, and the
grandmother of seven. She has published several collections of poetry and
one collection of short stories. Her work has appeared in several online
venues and also in several small press literary magazines. She has been
credited as a co-writer for a track on a CD by a band out of New York City.
At present, she is honored to serve as a board member for the NFB's Writers'
Division.

 

Embers was written a few years ago, and it has not seen many revisions in
that time. It was inspired by a conversation with a long-time friend who was
facing the truth that her time here with us would be short. I scribbled a
few words from that conversation and wrote the poem around them, trying to
balance living and the inevitability of her death, and the journey of each.
The words I'd scribbled down were 'embers and ash', 'unborn days', and
'mourn not loss'. It has now become what I wish for in my next life-time as
I remember the courage and compassion of this woman. It is one of my
personal favorites, and its message resonates through every fiber of my
being.




 


Using a Newsletter as a Marketing Tool
by Rachel Carver


 

Promoting a company or organization to the public is a process. It requires
various individuals to form relationships with reporters, members of the
community, and potential donors. Multiple tools can be used to assist a
company or an organization in getting messages out to an audience. One very
useful promotional method is a newsletter.

 

A newsletter can be put together bimonthly, quarterly or in whatever
frequency that works for a company or organization. It should be produced in
multiple formats, because the goal of a newsletter is to reach as many
individuals as possible. This can be achieved by creating the publication
both in print and in a digital format. The length of a newsletter depends on
what kind of content it contains and how often it is published. Once a
length is selected, it should be consistent each time.

 

When it comes to content, there are many factors to consider. A newsletter
is usually a publication that provides its followers with up-to-date
information about a company or organization. Newsletter editors should have
a firm understanding of what is happening in their place of business. They
should also communicate with management and other staff members to gain an
understanding of what is important for the public to know. The newsletter
should be easy to read and be visually appealing.

 

The newsletter can be designed in many ways. There are templates in
Microsoft Office the editor can use as a starting point. A person with
graphic design experience may also choose to use QuarkXPress or Adobe
InDesign, which are two programs that can be used to make anything from
postcards to brochures. The advantage of using these programs is that any
size or layout can be selected, depending on the desired look of the
publication. It is important for a company or organization to choose a
design method that can be used each time to keep the look and feel of the
newsletter consistent.

 

When it comes to distribution, it is important to consider the audience of
the company or organization. A print version of the newsletter can be mailed
to various locations. However, in today's electronic world, many individuals
will be more likely to read something in an electronic format. Constant
Contact is an effective online tool that can be used to design and send out
an e-Newsletter. Templates can be customized, and an email can be sent to
multiple people with one click. A newsletter can also be handed out during
tours or at exhibit booths.

 

It is important to remember that more than one tool is needed to promote a
place of business. Social media, building relationships with the media, and
locating potential donors are all needed in a successful awareness campaign.
Awareness does not happen overnight; it is a process that takes time and
dedication. Using all of these tools, a company or organization can become
very well-known in the community.

 

Rachel Carver lives in Omaha, Nebraska with her husband, and they are
expecting their first child.

 

Carver works in the public relations department for OutLook Nebraska. Among
her many duties, creating, editing and distributing the company newsletter
is one.




 


Of Pink Elephants and Trees with Lopsided Breasts: How I Reclaimed My
Adventurous Side
by Chris Parsons


 

On Easter Sunday of 2013, my younger sister Sarah, my mom, and I travel to a
far-away place with flowing waterfalls, pink elephants, moon craters, and
perhaps most notable for its strangeness, a tree with very lopsided breasts.
.

 

Well, okay, at only an hour from our house, it's not really that far away,
and the waterfalls are the only thing on that list that you will find there
in their true form. Still, this place is just as magical for the things that
are exactly what they appear to be as it is for the things that require a
little imagination, or in the case of the well-endowed tree, perhaps a bit
of a dirty mind.

 

Elephant Rocks State Park is located in rural Missouri and is famous for its
huge granite formations. When my brother Jake, Sarah, and I were younger,
Mom used to take us to "Elephant Rock" all the time, but today is the first
time we've been back in years.

 

Actually, this is the first time in years that we've done anything like
this. My family used to go hiking nearly every weekend. We would set off
early Saturday morning and spend the day "parking," exploring any parks we
found, usually getting lost, but inevitably finding some interesting new
place that we'd go back to for years. Elephant Rock was one of our earliest
adventures. My first-grade teacher told Mom about it, and naturally, Mom
couldn't resist checking it out.

 

Today, after eating our picnic lunch in the partial shade of a rock at least
five times taller than I am, we head for the Braille trail, a paved hiking
path that winds through the woods and around some of the large granite
formations. Every so often, there is a patch of carpet signaling the
presence of a rope along the right-hand side of the trail, at the end of
which is usually a sign in both print and Braille describing a feature of
the trail, generally one of the rock formations.

 

The trail is narrow, just wide enough in most places for two people to walk
side by side. As we walk, I keep to the far right edge of the path,
constantly checking with my cane for any sudden sharp turns. My reaction
time is fast, but these abrupt turns, some of which are nearly switchbacks,
have caught me off guard before.

 

It is quickly apparent that Sarah-who has always been the least outdoorsy of
the family--just wants to get home already. On the other hand, being back in
this place is filling me with memories of eagerly scrambling up rocks as a
child, and I know that I have to climb. So as soon as I get the chance, I
do. We turn another sharp corner in the trail and come upon a rock that's a
little below chest height. I jump up easily, the shaded granite a bit cold
against my fingers, then sit there waiting for Sarah to join me.
Unsurprisingly, she doesn't, and Mom takes the picture with me sitting on
the rock with my feet dangling and Sarah standing next to me with her feet
firmly on the ground.

 

Sometime later, as we are coming down from a scenic overlook, Mom reminds me
of the times when Jake used to climb up a large rock face to get to the
overlook instead of taking the paved trail. Eventually, the whole family
followed, hoisting our bodies over huge boulders, stepping over small
crevices, and crawling up steep grades. I look to my left now and see the
shadow of that rock, and I have the sudden urge to retrace our footsteps
from years ago. I don't plan to go all the way to the top this time, but I
turn off the path and head up the slope toward the rock. I step carefully
over the uneven ground, through the underbrush and small rocks, using both
cane and foot to check for crevices or larger rocks.

 

I walk for a bit, just to the point where the hill transitions into the
steep rock face leading up to the overlook, but not wanting to leave Sarah
and Mom standing there for too long, I reluctantly turn around and-even more
carefully this time-pick my way down to the path. I arrive just in time to
hear the family that had started the trail shortly behind us moving on.

 

"They stopped to watch me, didn't they?" I whisper.

 

"Yes," Mom replies. "That's why I was hoping you wouldn't go much higher." I
know what she means. It's not that she doesn't think I should be up there.
Quite the opposite, actually. It's that she doesn't like that Sarah and I
sometimes become a "side show," with eyes on us all the time. I don't mind
so much. Sometimes--most of the time, really--I like it for the opportunity
to educate and break down stereotypes, but sometimes I just like to make
people a little nervous.

 

The next part of the trail gives me plenty of opportunity to do the latter.
Around the corner, another paved trail angles off to the left and up the
side of a hill. My family has always called the area at the top of this path
"the moon" because of the craters that dot the surface.

 

We ascend the narrow wooden steps and step out onto the moon, a large rock
that Mom says is probably the width of a small house. Several large boulders
hover near one edge, giving the appearance of huge pink elephants. These are
the rock formations that give Elephant Rock its name.

 

We walk out past the shadow of the elephant rocks, dodging a few small
craters. "I want to walk out to the end," Mom says. I am a bit nervous now.
It has been a long time since I've done this, and I think I was much more
fearless then.

 

Maneuvering around the craters is slow and nerve-wracking. This part of
Missouri has gotten a lot of rain lately, so the large craters, which we can
normally just step down into, are filled with cold, dark water, and no one
wants to get their shoes and socks soaked. So the aim becomes to thread our
way between the craters, always keeping in mind the steep decline to the
left and the drop-off to the right. Something about the trees to the left
makes that side seem much less intimidating to me than the open space out to
the right, so I unconsciously angle my body that way as we walk.

 

"There's a pond on your left and a drop-off on your right," Mom gives the
occasional report of the terrain from behind me, where she and Sarah are
walking side by side. I remain quiet, concentrating hard on my footing
around the largest crater I have seen yet. A moment later, as the tip of my
cane abruptly finds the edge of the crater and I pitch forward a bit, she
asks, "You good?"

 

"Yeah, just give me a minute," I reply, concentrating too hard to notice
much of what I'm saying. I am being particularly cautious, but then again,
this is not a sidewalk near my university or even the paved trail a few
hundred feet below. I have stepped in a few of the smaller craters already,
and the water in them has further slickened tennis shoes that already don't
get much grip. At one point, as I stop to wait for Sarah and Mom, I can
almost feel myself tilting off balance a bit. My mind is playing tricks on
me, making me feel as though I am balancing precariously on a narrow ledge.
I try not looking to the right, thinking that will help. It does.

 

Despite the nerves, I really do want to be up here. I want to get to the
end. About two minutes later, we do, reaching the point where the rock
begins to fall away in a steep slope on three sides, and we turn around, now
facing a spectacular view of the sun bathing elephant rocks in the distance.

 

Once we return from the edge of the moon, Mom and Sarah take a rest on one
of the smaller elephant rocks, but I want to go exploring. Placing the tip
of my cane on the other side of a small crevice full of water, I test the
distance with one foot, bring it back, then lever myself across with my
other foot. I am now sandwiched between two of the massive elephant rocks.
Mom wants a picture, so I turn around and position myself between the rocks,
stretching my hands out and pretending to push against them.

 

"Great picture," Mom says, smiling, but before she can say anything else,
the urge to climb grabs me again, and I am turning and bracing myself on the
vertical rock wall behind me and pulling myself onto a low ledge sticking
out of the boulder in front of me. Once up there, I stand, bracing myself
against the boulder with one hand to steady myself. The ledge is narrow;
there is only enough room for my feet to rest one behind the other. Later, I
will comment that the picture Mom took looks even scarier because you can't
see the ground, so there's no way to tell how high I am. I smile for a
moment with the exhilaration of it all, and then I slide-fall to the ground
rather ungracefully, landing on my feet but only just. I decide at that
moment that getting down is way harder. I will become more sure of this as
the day goes on.

 

Not two minutes later, though, I am on all fours scrabbling up another
elephant rock. I hesitate for a second about ten feet up, deciding between
going a bit higher or turning around and calling for Mom to snap a picture.
"Go higher!" she calls from below, and I need no more encouragement. I reach
the top and sit cross-legged, staring out over the moon and the landscape
beyond, as if I'm on top of the world.

 

The coolness of that moment doesn't last long, though, as I soon realize
that getting down is going to be a bit of a challenge. Thinking all the
while that there's no way this was this steep on the way up, I try to crawl
backwards down the rock, but my tennis shoes have no grip, and my feet just
kind of slide up and down the rock face. Eventually, I bring nearly my whole
body against the rock face and take a chance, letting myself slide a bit,
with Mom calling out some basic directions from below. I drop the last few
feet and land a bit wobbly, convinced all the more that getting down is way
harder, especially if you had to jump to get up there in the first place.
But I am smiling like crazy, and want to find another rock to climb, right
now.

 

As we descend off the moon, I tell Mom that I had the feeling I was being
watched again during that last climb.

 

"You were. Well, it was more me." She tells me that there was a man scowling
at her the whole time, as if to say, "How could you let that poor blind girl
do that?" She admits that's partly why she told me to "climb higher," and I
laugh. I don't always like having all the eyes on me either, but there's
definitely some fun in using something like this to break down stereotypes.
At the same time, it's not all about that. I wouldn't have climbed that rock
just to make a point. I had wanted to climb it in the first place.

 

"Look at the knot on this tree," Mom's words break me from my thoughts. I
reach out and up and find a knot about the size of a baseball. "Not that
one," Mom says. "Higher."

 

So here I am, feeling up this tree, and suddenly, I have to keep myself from
laughing hysterically. "I have an image in my head . But I sort of don't
want to tell you."

 

"What is it?"

 

"It kind of looks like it has, um, lopsided ."

 

"Breasts?"

 

I break down laughing. "Yes. So it's not just me?"

 

"No."

 

Near the end of the trail, we reach the maze, a narrower section that winds
through a field of smaller boulders. As I walk, I notice that I have
unconsciously closed my eyes, so I decide to navigate this way all the way
through. I slide my cane along the narrow path, carefully checking which
surface is path and which surface is rock, something that is not always so
easy to tell on this stretch of the trail. At one point, the trail literally
seems to dead end, with low rocks flanking it on three sides. After a
moment, I find a small passage between two rocks to my left, no wider than
my two feet, and I continue on.

 

Sarah, who often relies on her vision even when she shouldn't, has much more
trouble, and Mom drops back to help her. As I exit the maze, I notice a
sloping rock to my left. I lay my cane at the foot and climb up, perch
cross-legged at the top, and call jokingly back down the trail, "Someone is
being slow!"

 

All too soon, we reach the end of the Braille trail and have to leave
Elephant Rock behind. We're all worn out, and that should be enough
adventure for one day-and certainly for Sarah it is, but while we're here,
Mom and I want to check out one more place.

 

Johnson's Shut-Ins is a park located on the East Fork of the Black River, at
a point where the river narrows and the water forms into rapids as it spills
over and around large boulders. In 2005, a dam broke on a nearby mountain,
causing flooding that wiped out part of the park. We have not been here
since, and Mom and I want to see if the beautiful place where we used to
swim amid the falls is even still here.

 

As we turn into the park, Mom gasps, and I ask her what's wrong. She says
that all the trees in this area are gone. The land is just . barren, except
for the giant boulders that litter it. She says it looks like a graveyard. I
can only catch glimpses of the boulders out the window as we drive, but
somehow I think I know what she means. It just feels empty. Being here,
where something like that happened, gives me chills in the warm March
afternoon and dampens my hopes that the beautiful shut-ins survived.

 

Bullfrogs sing to us as we follow a paved trail down to the river, and
before long, I can hear the unmistakable thundering of rapids. We walk a few
minutes more, and then .

 

Somehow, they have survived.

 

A picturesque vista opens in front of us, and the roar of the rapids rises
up to meet us. Boulders of all sizes and shapes fill the shallow river, and
white water foams around them in pools and waterfalls against the backdrop
of a sheer granite wall.

 

I am scared at first to go out on the rocks, where I know I will have
trouble hearing anything but the white water. This shows me just how long it
has been since my family has done something like this. I never used to be
afraid of an adventure. After a moment of indecision, though, I follow Mom
down the steps and then out onto the rocks. I hold my cane in one hand and
brace myself on a rock with another as I try to find a foothold that won't
shift. After making it over a few more rocks, I set my cane down so I can
use both hands to navigate and steady myself, and eventually, I am perched
atop a rock just large enough for me to sit on. To my right is an
indeterminate drop down to rushing water and jagged rocks below, but I don't
feel nervous anymore.

 

"Should I stand up?" I call over the roar.

 

"If you want."

 

I do, and immediately I feel that irrational off balance sensation again,
only this time, I really am standing on about a foot of rock, right next to
a waterfall. I steady myself and turn to the camera.

 

Later, as I'm sitting cross-legged on that same rock, with Mom sitting next
to me and the sound of rushing water in my ears, I am no longer afraid. I
just feel an overwhelming sense of awe that such a place even exists. Part
of me just wants to sit on that rock forever and get lost in the sound of
the water rushing over the rocks, and part of me wishes I had better shoes
on so I could climb down the waterfall and go exploring.

 

That evening after dinner, we are gathered around my computer looking at the
pictures Mom took. In one, Sarah and I are in the foreground with our arms
around each other. In the background, I can see a tiny person at the very
top of the second-tallest of the elephant rocks, and all I can think is that
next time we go there, I am going to figure out how he did that, and then do
it myself. I guess sometimes it takes some pink elephants, a walk on the
moon, and a tree with lopsided breasts to remind me that my adventurous side
is in fact still there.

 

Of Pink Elephants and Trees with Lopsided Breasts: How I Reclaimed My
Adventurous Side won second place in the nonfiction category for the 2013
NFB Writers' writing contest.

 

Chris Parsons lives near St. Louis with her mom, her younger sister, a dog,
and two cats. She graduated from Webster University in 2010 with a degree in
English/creative writing and went on to work in the university's Online
Writing Center as a writing coach for the next three years. Now she is in
the process of applying to attend one of the NFB's training centers for
intensive blindness skills training.

 

Chris writes mostly plays and creative nonfiction now, but she also tries
her hand at fiction and poetry from time to time. She also enjoys reading,
listening to music, traveling, spending time with friends and family, and
going to musicals and concerts.

"I've never been very structured in my writing process. My inspiration often
comes from personal experiences or emotions," says Parsons.

 

As a result, writing often becomes an outlet for what she struggles to
express any other way, and what she ends up writing is often not what she
set out to write. Around the time she wrote this piece, Parsons was at a
point in her life when her head was so full of thoughts that she didn't know
if she could form any one of them into something concrete. She had already
written two partial drafts, but neither came easily, and she felt like she
was trying too hard. Then she went on the trip to Elephant Rock, and being
out in nature and away from her thoughts, gave Parsons much-needed
perspective, along with the perfect setting about which to write.




 


The Martian Child, by David Gerrard
by Shawn Jacobson


 

In 'The Martian Child', David Gerrard novelizes his experience adopting a
trouble child. The child, Dennis, is hyper active, has a history of abuse,
acts out, and (most disconcerting of all) believes that he is a Martian.

 

But the Martian part doesn't frighten the protagonist, the adoptive dad.
After all, dad is a science fiction writer, and as long as Dennis doesn't
bring home giant slugs from outer space, dad is cool with Dennis being a
Martian as long as he needs to be. After all, as soon as dad saw the picture
of this little kid, he was in love.

 

Thus begins what, for the first half of the book, seems an idyllic adventure
in which the author adopts Dennis. Dad loves Dennis, Dennis loves dad, and
everything works beautifully. Seemingly minor problems are glossed over.

 

Then trouble comes and the narration turns dark. The Northridge earthquake
wrecks the house. The dog dies. Dennis is falsely accused of sexual assault.
Dennis steals, breaks things, and acts out in public. The adoption is pushed
to the brink. To save the family, the father must dig deep for the answer to
why he wanted to adopt in the first place. Father and son must renounce
their Martian heritage. Thus, this is a story of acknowledging, settling
for, and being human.

 

I came to this book because I am an adoptive father who dabbles in writing
science fiction. I wanted to see the author's unique view of the process.
Though the author's fears of inadequacy mirrored my own, David's domestic
adoption of an older child differed from the international adoptions of
infants with which I am familiar.

 

One reviewer criticized the author for writing his adoption story as a novel
rather than as memoir. However, telling the story in fictionalized form fits
the theme of this book that the stories we tell ourselves to explain the
world and our place in it make us human. Pre-linguistic children are thus
alien until they join our society of story tellers. In this light, Dennis'
story of his Martian heritage may indicate that he came to language late in
life. The author's previous works of science fiction get lengthy
descriptions and are significant in the lead-up to the climactic scene.

 

Other descriptions--things, people, weather--are spare and not memorable.
The exceptions, the description of Dennis from his picture, description of
the house after the earthquake, the description of the weather on the
climactic evening of the story, stand out by comparison and really stick
with the reader.

This book is available through the Talking Book program (DB 67150). Neil
Berman, like most commercial audio-book narrators, uses different voices for
the various characters. I found the lisping, kiddy voice used for Dennis
more annoying than cute. But for those interested in reading about a
challenging adoption, uniting a troubled boy with a non-traditional home,
the book is worth putting up with the annoyance.




 


A Brother
by Linda E. Vaillancourt


 

What is it that makes a brother?

It's that feeling you have on the see-saw

When you're sitting at the top of the world, looking down,

And suddenly realize the one on the other end is really whom you're looking
up to.

 

It's that sun faded shirt he wore

Which has been lent off his back over and over to you

And oh so many more.

 

Or the footprints left behind in the sand on the beach

As you ran ahead just out of his reach.

 

It's that gentle breeze through your hair

You can't see it yet you know that it's there.

 

It's the warmth cast upon your shoulder of the sun's ray

Enveloping you with that sense of security he has given you each and every
day.

 

Or when nothing can compare

As to that feeling you have that he will always truly care,

Regardless of whatever it is you choose to share.

 

It's whenever your eyes allow the trickle of a tear, you just loosen the
grip of all that you fear

As that smile on his face becomes so clear.

 

For you must see

Whether he is near,

Or no longer here,

That a Brother is that special someone you will forever hold so dear.

 

Written by a lil' sista'

 

A Brother was awarded an honorable mention in the adult poetry category in
the 2013 NFB Writers' writing contest.




 


I am from
by Rupa Elizabeth Sprecher


 

I am from the stereo in my living room 

from lacey dresses and a bed 

I am from the big brick Cape Cod house

music being played in my bedroom

I am from the lilac bush

whose long gone limbs I remember

as if they were my own.

 

I'm from black hair and eating dinner together

from mom, dad, and little sister

I'm from sleeping late and not wanting to wake up.

 

I'm from "Do your homework." and "Be responsible."

and You Belong with Me

I'm from India and America

curry and hamburgers 

from meeting my new sister

a picture of me in my dress with the cape on the back

that is in the living room by the window.

 

I am From won first place in the middle school poetry category for the 2013
NFB Writers' writing contest.

 

Rupa Elizabeth Sprecher is twelve-years-old. She was born in Bangalore,
India and went to school at Jyothi Seva School/Home for the Blind. She was
raised by The Sisters of Charity along with eighty-four other boys and
girls, ranging in age from birth through twenty-one.

 

"I was an orphan who longed for a family," Sprecher says.

 

One day, Sister Sara took her to her bedroom to tell her some news. A couple
from America wanted to adopt her because they wanted a little girl - just
like Sprecher wanted a Mom and Dad. She was seven at the time. It seemed
like a very long time to wait until her parents arrived to pick her up.

 

She asked the Sisters often when her parents would be coming. Finally, the
Sisters told her the day before that Sprecher's new Mom and Dad would be
coming the next day.

 

"I was so excited, I couldn't sleep. I begged the Sisters to take me to the
airport with them even though it was midnight," says Sprecher.

 

She arrived in America on Columbus Day, 2008.

 

Five years have quickly come and gone, and now Sprecher plays the piano,
swims, is on the track team at school and attends religion education
classes. She competed in her first triathlon last summer and is getting
ready for her first 5K run in November. 

  

Sprecher wrote this poem because it brings back memories from long ago.

 

"It makes me think of the differences between my two lives - the one in
India and the one here," Sprecher says.

 

She feels a sense of relief being in America because she has a chance to
reach her potential and to live a happy, fulfilling life, which she will
choose herself.




 


Slate & Style Submission Guidelines


 

Slate & Style is a quarterly publication of the Writers' division of the
National Federation of the Blind (NFB Writers). It is dedicated to writing
including literary pieces along with resources and information about various
writing styles. A majority of Slate & Style's contributors are visually
impaired, but we welcome submissions from any contributor, professional or
amateur. We also accept submissions touching on any subject matter.

 

Slate & Style accepts short fiction, short creative nonfiction, poetry,
articles discussing and providing tips for various writing styles including
literary, technical, editing, public relations and academic, literary
criticism and resource information.

 

Subject matter is not limited though it will be up to the editor's
discretion to publish.

 

Slate & Style accepts material from adults and children. We prefer email
submissions. Please no hand-written or Braille submissions.

 

An annual subscription costs $15. The cost for an individual issue is $5.
Members of the Writer's Division receive issues free of charge. An annual
membership costs $10. Visit our website to pay via PayPal at:
<http://www.nfb-writers-division.net/> http://www.nfb-writers-division.net,
or contact us at newmanrl at cox.net for other payment options.

 

We accept submissions from January first through September first. Please
give Slate & Style six weeks to hear back from us. All submissions are
considered for publication but not all pieces will be published. We may keep
submissions to be used for later publication. The editor may respond with
comments and suggestions, giving contributors an opportunity to resubmit.
Please be patient and wait the full six weeks before contacting us about a
submission.

 

Submissions are welcome at all times, however, please read through the
guidelines carefully. Submissions that don't follow these guidelines will
not be considered for Slate & Style. 

 

Submission guidelines are as follows:

.        Length requirements are: articles, 1500 words or less, fiction and
memoir/personal essay, 4000 words or less, poetry, 39 lines or less.

.        Please send nonfiction, both articles and essays, and short fiction
submissions one selection at a time. You can submit up to three poems at a
time. Include bio and contact information for each submission sent.

.        Include a title page along with your submission with author name,
title of piece and contact info-phone, email and address. Please include
this as an attachment and not in the body of an email.

.        Please include a brief bio of yourself-no more than 150 words. Do
not send an entire history, just include key items you feel are important
for readers to know.

.        Book reviews should have a more academic approach. Don't just state
you liked it or not, and don't simply summarize a book. We are seeking
literary criticism. Address tone, format, style, character and plot
development and the over-all writing. The length for book reviews is 700
words. Bios do not need to accompany book reviews.

.        All email submissions must be attachments and sent to
bpollpeter at hotmail.com. Do not paste entries into the body of an email.
Entries simply pasted into an email will not be considered.

.        In the subject line of your email, write: Slate & Style submission,
name, title and genre. EX: Slate & Style, Bridgit Kuenning-Pollpeter, title
of submission, genre.

.        Use Microsoft Word or create an RTF document for all submissions.
No other formats are accepted, and therefore will not be considered. Please
do not send hand-written or Braille submissions.

.        Proofread and check your grammar and formatting before submitting.
Submissions with too many errors will either be returned with corrections to
be made if you wish to resubmit, or it will not be considered at all.

 

Slate & Style will consider all submissions for publication. However, please
be careful with graphic sexual and violent content as well as language and
anti-religious, anti-gender, anti-racial and anti-homosexual orientation
content. Characterization and plot often require this type of material, but
it must serve a purpose. Gratuitous material with no purpose or meant only
for derogatory reasons, will not be considered, however, material will be
published according to the discretion of the editor.

 

Please direct questions and comments to Bridgit Kuenning-Pollpeter at
<mailto:bpollpeter at hotmail.com> bpollpeter at hotmail.com,.




 


2014 NFB Writers' Writing Contest


 

The annual youth and adult writing contests sponsored by NFB Writers' opens
January first, and closes April first. 

 

Adult categories, poetry, fiction, non-fiction and Children's Literature
written by adults, are open to all entrants eighteen years and over. 

 

The Youth Writing Contest, poetry and fiction, promotes Braille literacy and
excellence in creative writing. Entries will be judged on creativity and
quality of Braille. The contest is divided into three groups, determined by
grade level - elementary, middle, and high school.

 

Prizes for contest winners range up to $100 for adult categories and up to
$30 for youth. 

 

All contest winners will be announced the first week in July, during NFB
Writers' business meeting during the NFB national convention, held in
Orlando, Florida. In addition, shortly after convention, a list of winners
will appear on the Writers' Division's Website, http://writers.nfb.org 

First, second, and third place winners in each category will be considered
for publication in the Writers' Division magazine, Slate & Style.

 

For additional contest details and submission guidelines, go to our website,
<http://writers.nfb.org> http://writers.nfb.org




 


NFB Writers' Division Critique Service


 

Have you just written your masterpiece? Finished that article you've been
working on? Completed a compelling memoir? Would you like a seasoned writer
to give you an evaluation of your material? 

 

The NFB Writers' Division has established a critique service. For $10, you
will receive a written evaluation for any of the following: 

.        Short story, max 3000 words

.        First chapter, or first 20 pages, of a novel

.        up to 3 poems, 36 lines or less per poem

.        Children's story, max 3000 words

.        First chapter of a Memoir, or first 20 pages

.        Nonfiction article, 20 pages max

 

The critique will contain feedback on the following: 

.        Format

.        Mechanics

.        Overall quality

 

If interested, submit work as an email attachment using MS Word. Double
space and email to: 

Robert Leslie Newman, president

NFB Writers' Division

 <mailto:newmanrl at cox.net> newmanrl at cox.net

 

Material may be submitted at any time. Critiques will be emailed back within
30 days from receipt of reviewer. We have a small pool of editors available,
so submissions may need to sit before an editor is free to review.

 

*NFB Writers website is currently under-going work and is therefore
unavailable. Please opt to send a check for now, or contact Robert Leslie
Newman, president, NFB Writers.

 

The $10 fee can be paid via check or online. For checks, make out to: NFB
Writers' Division, and send to:

Robert Leslie Newman

504 S 57th St.

Omaha, NE 68106

 

For PayPal, visit the Writers' Division website at:
<http://www.writers.nfb.org> http://www.writers.nfb.org.




 


Slate & Style Seeking Submissions for Holiday Issue


 

Last year, Slate & Style published the first-ever holiday issue. We offered
a short volume, but it was a hit. So, looking forward to 2014's holiday
season, we will now begin accepting submissions. And by holiday season, we
mean holidays falling between November and January.

 

We will accept short fiction, poetry, memoir/personal essays and articles
discussing various holidays and interesting information and histories. All
submissions must be emailed by October first. Refer to Slate & Style's
submission guidelines for length.

 

Material can be previously published or brand-spanking new. If submitting
previously published material, please note and provide publication name and
year.

 

Submissions do not have to be about Christmas. They can relate to any aspect
of the holiday season between November and January, and it can involve any
religious activity, tradition and/or custom celebrated or practiced around
the holiday season. And you don't have to directly write about a holiday,
but simply have your submission take place during the holiday season.

 

No subject matter, genre or style is off limits. We will consider all
submissions. Try to not be over-sentimental though. Edgy and gritty are
perfectly acceptable. Sentimentality is not against guidelines, but neither
is darker, edgier material. Be realistic and honest in your approach.
Remember, It's a Wonderful Life wasn't all sunshine and rainbows and puppy
dogs, and A Christmas Story relied on wit and sarcasm.

 

Last year's issue included a fiction story about a mother coping with the
death of her son, a memoir about a little girl addressing her dysfunctional
parents, a poem celebrating the New Year and a fiction piece taking place
after a zombie apocalypse.

 

Submissions must be emailed by November first. Please submit by following
regular Slate & Style guidelines, which are in each issue of the magazine
and on the Division website. Email me at  <mailto:bpollpeter at hotmail.com>
bpollpeter at hotmail.com with questions.

 




 


NFB WRITERS' DIVISION MEMBERSHIP


 

If reading Slate & Style for the first time, and you're not a member of this
division, please consider joining. The division's strength comes from
diversity among the membership. 

 

There are two methods in which to pay for a membership, which cost $10 per
year:

.        Access our PayPal button from the Writers' Division's Website
<http://www.nfb-writers-division.org> http://www.nfb-writers-division.org.

.        Contact Robert Leslie Newman, president, NFB Writers', and notify
him of your interest in joining the Division. Send email to
newmanrl at cox.net.

 

Dues help finance division activities, including the publication of Slate &
Style, and our division's annual writing contest.




 


Where the Blind Work


 

The Jernigan Institute, Employment Committee and the Writers' Division have
partnered on a project to assist blind people seeking employment, and we
need your help. We are building a database to act as a resource detailing
job descriptions and how people who are blind can compete within these
fields.

 

Where the Blind work is a great informational resource assisting youth
planning for future employment and for adults seeking to change jobs and/or
careers. We will accept a description of your current job, or past
employment, and your welcome to fill out descriptions for both.

 

The database is divided into twelve generalized categories. They are:

.        Administrative and Office Careers

.        Business/Entrepreneurial Careers

.        Computer Specialists

.        Customer Service

.        Education

.        Financial

.        Government

.        Human Services

.        Law Enforcement and Legal Careers

.        Media, Marketing, and Public Relations

.        Medical

.        Vocational Jobs

 

Your description needs to be less than 1,000 words and must follow the below
five-question format. When completed, please email them to,
<mailto:newmanrl at cox.net> newmanrl at cox.net.

 

* indicates a required field (This is the template in which to follow and
not an actual document to fill out)

 

1. Personal information:

*Name

*Industry in which you work (example: financial services)

*Job title

Employer

Street address (work or home)

City, State, Zip Code

Phone number (work, home, or cell)

E-mail (work or home)

 

*2. Please explain to us what any worker would do on this job. Specialized
blindness alternatives will appear in the next question.

 

*3. What adaptive technology and tools do you use on the job? Please provide
what type of visual impairment you have. What are the limitations with your
type of blindness? List all and any blindness-related tools and methods you
use on the job, describing how and why you use them.

 

*4. Please let us know of any required training, education, degrees and
certificates and experience, needed for this job. 

 

*5. Please share information about people, resources, tools and training you
feel assisted to make you successful in your chosen field.

 

Note: To aid in filling out your job description, read several earlier posts
at the Where the Blind Work page:  <https://nfb.org/wtbw-main>
https://nfb.org/wtbw-main.

 

 

 

Robert Leslie Newman

Personal Website-

 <http://www.thoughtprovoker.info/> http://www.thoughtprovoker.info

NFB Writers' Division, President

Division Website-

http://writers.nfb.org

Chair, NFB Communications Committee

Nebraska Senior Division, vice President

 

 

-------------- next part --------------
A non-text attachment was scrubbed...
Name: image001.png
Type: image/png
Size: 6931 bytes
Desc: not available
URL: <http://nfbnet.org/pipermail/stylist_nfbnet.org/attachments/20140222/beb234d8/attachment.png>