All Blind Children of Texas

As some of you may know, mom is president of a 501C3 nonprofit organization called All Blind Children of Texas (ABCTX).  Mom and Don were 2 of the organizers of this organization in 2004.  In the later years of Don’s life, this organization was Don’s passion and remains Mom’s passion today. 

Each year, Austin has a day of giving and ABCTX is included as one of the charities to support.  The day of giving starts at 6:00 p.m. on the 20^th of March and goes on until 6:00 p.m. on the 21^st of March.  You are invited to visit the www.abctx.org webpage to learn about the work this organization does.  There is a link on that page taking you to the Amplify Austin website where you will immediately be connected to the ABCTX donation opportunity. 

We hope you will visit the abctx.org website to learn about the exciting projects the organization supports.  All of the dollars you donate go directly to services for children with visual impairments across Texas.  ABCTX provides expanded core curriculum for blind children such as summer camps, creative writing programs, and the opportunity to compete in Sports Extravaganza which occurs each year in October in Dallas .  Many parents have never seen their children have the opportunity to actually compete with others.  This gives parents hope for their blind child.

When Don passed, he requested that contributions be sent to ABCTX in lieu of flowers.  With his passing Don made one more generous contribution to blindness. The contributions made were approximately $5,000.00 causing many wonderful opportunities for blind and low vision children to be realized.

We hope that you will find it in your heart to help ABCTX continue to grow. Thank you, Mary Sue and Cindy

Mom took over today...sigh.

I have been reviewing Cindy’s posts to her blog and I think she has done a masterful job of telling stories, from her point of view.  But, as I sit here in my tiny house in beautiful Pinehurst , Texas, I feel that I should give a bit of information concerning my side of the story.

It is definitely true that I had Cindy reading bills and other mail when she was very young.  What a wonderful teaching tool for her!  By the time she went through kindergarten twice, she was reading pretty well.  Yes, she did experience kindergarten twice and I have been very pleased that she hasn’t mentioned that fact yet.  

For years and years, she blamed me for having her go twice, but her teacher said that she wasn’t drawing her stick figures properly.  Her teacher stated that by the end of kindergarten, Cindy should be adding arms and legs to the body.  She simply wasn’t doing that.  But she could read and that is all thanks to me.  As a blind person, who would have thought those drawings were significant.

As my life has progressed, I have learned that if I don’t touch something to know that it is there, things are absolutely not in my world.  Since I had no real need for lights myself, you should not be surprised that lights were not very important to me.  Again, though it sounds a little strange to our sighted friends, Cindy has a skill that could only have come from her extremely thoughtful teacher!  That’s me, again.  

I could help all of you to gain some of my family’s without lights skills. Though, none of our acquaintances have indicated a need for training in the no lights adventure.  However, if any of our readers would like a seminar on no lights, I would be pleased to teach you.

Another area that Cindy has not totally covered is her feeding as a baby and a toddler. She has failed to mention that by the time she was 13 months old, I could hand her a jar of baby food and she could eat straight from the jar without making much of a mess.  I felt really good about her ability to eat like this.  It’s another of those situations of survival of the fittest.  She was tired of having to eat in the kitchen sink, so she learned to eat very well on her own.  Don’t you think that was a valuable lesson for her?  I mean, she learned that if you want something done right, do it yourself.  This teaching method gave her independence and she was able to attempt to teach her students how to do the same thing.  I don’t mean eating from the jar, but gaining independence every day.

Well, I hope that I have given you a bit of insight about what my child rearing reasoning has always been.  All kidding aside, I have been so lucky to have a daughter like Cindy.  For the most part, we have laughed our way through life. Don’t get me wrong!  We have disagreements but ultimately we respect one another.  I have enjoyed every aspect of her growth and I am very much enjoying watching my daughter being a mother.

Side note from Cindy: I'm taking back over tomorrow.  Mom gets too mushy. ;o)

          

All Tied Up

Since I took the weekend off from writing, I thought I would redeem myself today by sharing one of my favorite stories about my mom and her brother Walter Charles.  Please see the humor in this and don’t feel sorry for mom.  She has always laughed about this and so should you.  Then make sure your own children never do it to their friends or siblings.

There are many unique tales that involve these two, because my Uncle Walt was a very interesting character.  He was basically my family's version of Jessie James.  We think he had a good heart, but we weren't always sure. These two youngsters got in trouble frequently, on their own and together.

On this particular day, it was a bright, sunny Saturday morning and uncle Walt and Mom had done their chores.  Mom’s dad believed in Saturday morning chores and he gave both kids things to do.  Mom says that if it was nothing but moving gravel in the driveway from the bottom to the top, they had to do it.  On this particular Saturday, they had done just that, moved the gravel to the top of the driveway rather than leaving it at the bottom.  They also had to do some weeding in the pasture.  

They, finally, completed the chores and it was time to play. Mom had a board swing that was attached to a large tree and she loved to swing really high in it.  She was about nine-years-old when this happened.  Mom’s mother had to go to the grocery store and she decided to leave mom and Uncle Walt home alone.  Uncle Walt was old enough to stay with mom.  So, mom swung and while Walt watched cartoons.

After my grandmother had been gone for about an hour, one of Uncle Walt’s buddies came by to ask if he could go fishing.  Walt told him that he couldn’t go right then because he was staying with Mary Sue.  The boys then tried to think of a way to fish and keep mom safe.  Mom could hear the conversation and she was a bit worried about what they might do with her, as she should have been.

The idea finally came to the boys and they began to put it in motion.  Walt went to the barn and got some rope.  I'm betting you can see where this is going and it isn't good, for anyone involved. 

The boys told mom that they were going fishing but they wanted to keep her safe until their mom got home.  Uncle Walt and his friend then took cute little Mary Sue and tied her to the tree.  They didn’t tie her real tight, fortunately.  In fact, she could walk around a little bit. She could also sit down by the tree.  They obviously cared, but the fish were calling. 

Walt told Mary Sue to let their mother know that he had gone fishing with his buddy.  Mary Sue cheerfully said she would do just that and off the boys went to fish.  I don't think any of them had any idea how mad my grandmother could get, but when she came home to find her little 9 year old blind daughter tied to a tree, while her brother went fishing.....well, lets just say Walter Charles was in a heap of trouble.  Mom made out OK though. I think she even got some ice cream out of the whole ordeal.  

Cooking Part 2

Ahhh, more culinary tales. My favorite! Today, I thought I would share my mother's love of meatloaf.  Mom has been on an infinite search for the perfect meatloaf my entire life.  I have no idea why either.  I never really crave meatloaf or have thought to myself, "Gee, I wish mom would get in the kitchen and scrunch together some meat and eggs and spices with her hands and then bake it for me."  Nope, I have never ever never thought that.  But alas, moms will do as they please and mine is no different.

Mom has tried numerous recipes, some call for bread crumbs, some call for crackers, some say to use Italian seasoning, while others recommend Lipton soup mix.  She has tried them all.  The occasion that mom really out did herself was not long after we left ole BT.

We had been living in our new apartment for a few months and I had started school in Crowley ISD.  Things were going pretty well, for the most part.  On this particular day mom had stayed home from work.  I can't remember why but I do remember coming home from school and finding mom in the kitchen with a blender, a pound of ground beef, and a jar of spaghetti sauce.  To this day, mom will deny this ever happened, but I'm telling you, IT DID!!

Can you guess what she was planning to do with those three items?  If you guessed, throw them all in a blender, you would be right. I'm not sure if you have ever seen what happens to a blended tomato, but it doesn't stay red, it turns a sort of orange color.  Now, think of what an entire jar of spaghetti sauce would turn into with some pink meat....well, friends, it becomes a bright fluorescent orange color.  I swear it could have stopped a truck in the black of night.

As I'm watching mom create this blended spectacle of a dinner, I ask her "Mom, why are you doing that to the meat?" She replied, "I just thought this might work better than using my hands." Folks, if you ever get this response from someone, stop them from proceeding any further, and you begin to mash that meat up with your own hands. I beg you, do it yourself!!

Meatloaf should never be poured into a pan.  It was the most god awful looking creation I had ever seen.  I had to help mom empty this goo from the blender because she isn't the best at pouring things.  It splashed into the little loaf pan and I just couldn't imagine putting that orange mush into my mouth.  I told mom that I thought I was going to eat some cereal for dinner instead, and she said "That's fine, more for me!" Yep, mom, it's all you sweetie.

After, the "loaf" baked, you would have thought it would lose some of it's luminescent glow and maybe turn a little more golden, but alas it was still brighter than a Sunkist soda.  I kept to my word and didn't touch it and mom kept hers and enjoyed the "loaf". She said it tasted great, I somehow doubt that, but my mom would probably never let me know if it was terrible, just because she hates to be wrong.  Especially, when it is her own cooking.

Have a great Friday night friends! Please celebrate it without meat that you molded into a pan! ;o)

Burnt Toast

After we got everything running along pretty well, Mom decided to remarry.  I’m not going to spend a lot of time on this other than to say it was a terrible time in both our lives.  We thought it would last forever, but thankfully, it only lasted about 5 years. 

Burnt Toast came into our lives like a whirl wind.  This man was truly a silver tongued fox, especially, when it came to getting mom to go into his hair brained schemes.  He tried to convince her that the three of us could live in a 26 ft. travel trailer.  Fortunately, she did not go for that one. Then, he talked her into getting a HAM radio license.  Mom's call sign was N5JAQ, November 5 Juliet Alpha Quebec.  I remember this because every time she used the radio, it would interfere with my TV and scramble the reception.  I would hear her instead. He convinced her to move onto the same property with his ex-wife and their children.  I always felt horrible for her.  Can you imagine having to drive by your ex-husband and his new wife every single day? He really was a terrible person. 

He was so slick and sly in his methods.  Our move from Austin occured before we even knew what was happening. Each day mom would come home to find furniture missing.  One day it was the dining room furniture.  Another day, it was the couch.  Still another day all of the living room furniture was gone.  Eventually, we were eating on plastic Lean Cuisine plates at a card table with director chairs.  It was horrible. Mom was surprised by this, but it didn’t stop and she didn't know how to make it stop.

Eventually, we moved to Fort Worth, Everman to be specific, to live in a single wide manufactured home (that’s a trailer you know).  We lived there for about a year and then we moved out to a little town called Poolville.  Mom always told everyone that Poolville was not the end of the world but you sure could see the dropping off place from our back door.  I loved the school I went to and the friends I made.  I honestly, do not think I would have survived that terrible time if it weren't for my friends and their families.  I don't know if they ever really knew how bad my home life was but they allowed me to stay at their homes almost every weekend. 

Poolville was a very small school.  There were about 150 kids from kinder through 12th grade. It was a good school though, full of good people.  I was there from 3rd grade through 6th.  I was a very shy and insecure kid at that time. BT was the kind of man who believed children should be seen and not heard. This type of small setting was perfect for me and my state of mind at the time.  To think of leaving my small country school and going to a huge city school terrified me.  It was only a matter of time before we left and that was a good thing. Fortunately, mom allowed me to stay through 6th grade.  We had to that leave that world.  Neither of us could have emotionally survived if we had stayed much longer. I'm so fortunate that most of the friends I made during that time are still in my life, thanks to Facebook. (Hi Anna, Charlie, Misty and Cathy)

School let out May 27th and we moved into Ft. Worth on May 28th. Mom and BT found an apartment for us in southwest Ft. Worth, not far from Hulen Mall.  We needed a place where we could have easy access to public transportation or friends that could help us from time to time.  This fit all the needed criteria.  It was weird on moving day, because BT helped us move in, then left with his parents after all of our things were loaded into our new home.

On that first night, we ordered pizza, cuddled in mom's big bed and relished what was ahead.  Mom was in control again.  We were together.  We were happy, at last.  We were taking our lives back. 

The one good thing that BT gave us was his family. It still amazes me how such a horrible person could come from such great people and have such great children.  We are still blessed to have his daughter and her family still a large part of our lives.  For that, I'm truly grateful.

Many people used to ask if I'm bitter or angry about that time in our lives.  I can honestly say, no.  It made me who I am.  I am a better person because of him not despite him.  My mother and I have a bond even greater than we had before him, we needed each other and we still do. He didn't win.  We did.

Mail Call

Today, I wanted to touch on something many folks forget about, and that is mail.  People who are blind get bills, and letters, and junk mail just like everyone else.  Have you ever wondered how they pay their bills or read their mail?  That's what we are are going to discuss today. 

I'll first tell you how mom and I do it now.  It's much different than how we did it, waaaaaaaay back in the 70's and 80's and even the 90's.  As most of you know, mom lives in our garage that we had converted into an apartment.  I can help her go through mail much easier than when she had an apartment far away from me.  Going through mail is really a torturous thing for us.  Many of our arguments have occurred over the mail basket and bills.  I hate it.  With a passion.  Mom hates it just as much as me, probably because of me. 

The process goes like this: I open the bills and tell her what is owed to each creditor and then the ball is in mom's court.  Mom has a computer with a screen reading program on it, which allows her to navigate most places on the internet quite easily.  She can get into her bank account and pay any bills that we have set up in her online account.  

There are times when the computer, the site, the connection, or the whole damn set up is not working and we switch to plan B or plan C.  Plan B, is mom using her iphone and her banking app to pay her bills.  Plan C, is to call Cindy to have me log in to pay bills.  It just depends on how frustrated mom has gotten.  Plan C is almost always her last resort.  Just because she doesn't like to put me out, we honestly don't argue over bills nearly as much as we used to, but you just can't tell what the day will bring in regards to emotions with women.  Friends, it can get ugly. 

Let me go back now and tell you how it worked in the 70's.  We will then move up by decades as the technology has advanced.  

I actually learned to read by spelling out letters in the mail to mom.  It was an evening ritual.  I would open the envelopes. It was kinda fun back then.  I would then read aloud each letter one at a time to mom. It sounded something like this, "S o u t h w e s t e r n space b e l l."  Mom would figure out what I had spelled and then say the word to me so I would recognize it and possibly remember it.  You can imagine that this took a very long time.  She had the patience of Job.  I think she was thrilled beyond words when a sighted person would come to visit so she didn't have to spend an entire evening with me spelling each word aloud letter by letter.  The good news is that I got better with time.  

When writing checks, mom usually had a sighted person help her until I was old enough to write them for her.  Mom has always signed her name on her checks.  I told her that after Don died, she can not marry ever again because I am not teaching her how to sign another last name.  (I have taught her how to sign three last names, I have a right to be firm here.)

This was the process we followed until 1982.  During that time, mom married husband number 3.  I know, I know where was husband number 1, that's for another time.  We will just call this person Burned Toast, because that's kinda how I think of him.  Once ole BT came into our lives things changed and not necessarily for the better.  BT took over everything in our lives.  I can't tell you much of the saga of bill writing during that time, because I was not involved in it.

Let's skip forward to 1989, mom and I were on our own again and the process continued much like it was in the 70's.  Technology had come a long way but still not as advanced as we are now. PC's were just becoming affordable for home use, but they were not really blind person friendly yet. During this time, mom and I had many verbal encounters regarding mail.  I was teenager.  Could you expect anything less?  I'd rather watch 90210 or The Cosby show instead of sitting with mom and doing bills for what seemed like hours.  Looking back, I could have been nicer, but then where would I challenge mom?  She needed me to test her from time to time. ;o)

Once mom had married Don in 1994 things were really looking up in the technology world, but they still had a ways to go.  That year I went off to college, so mom and Don needed more help in this arena while I was away.  That's when you really learn how expensive it is to be disabled.  They had to pay someone that they trusted to help them do bills.  We were always lucky that, for the most part, there were good people there to help.  Sadly, not all individuals are very trustworthy when it comes to checkbooks that don't belong to them.  Some folks don't really have a problem stealing from people who are disabled.  Sad but true.

Once, the 2000's hit, scanners became an affordable and an amazing piece of independence for mom.  She was finally able to read her mail by scanning it into her computer.  She still needed someone to help with check writing but at least she gained some control over her own finances that way.  Think about it, do you really want people knowing what you owe, what you have in your checking account and the amount of money you make?  Some things should be private and personal.  

Hope you can now take a moment and be thankful for the small things in your world that belong to only you and your family.  Because it is precious and empowering to have privacy and control over your own finances. 

Until tomorrow. ;o)

Cooking part 1

Cooking is probably one of my favorite things to do.  I have always been around people who loved to cook and were good at it.  My mom being at the top of the list.  Yes, mom loves to cook and is actually a very good cook.  She loves looking up recipes in her favorite cookbook called, Cooking Without Looking, and on the Internet.

Her kitchen is really no different than yours.  No special appliances, really.  We have marked the stove and microwave so that she knows where each setting is located.  We have also labeled her spices and canned foods with braille or a small dot that is used with a special pen that can record what the item is, and then tell her so that we don't end up with cinnamon in our tacos instead of cumin.  But really, with most spices, she knows what it is either by the smell or the shape of the jar.  Also, the weight of the spices vary. For instance, pepper is always lighter than salt. 

The one item that can be a little scary with mom is a knife.  She has cut herself numerous times.  I'm pretty sure that there have been several meals that I've unknowingly eaten mom's blood.  I know that is gross, but most likely true.  Fortunately, it hasn't killed any of us yet.  You learn to laugh, get a band aid and move on. 

Of course, there have been some very unique meals.  Let's revisit some of those special dishes, shall we? Back when mom and dad were still early in their marriage they had been on a road trip and stopped at Stuckey's.  While there, mom bought a shake mix.  Basically, you put the powder into a blender with milk and ice. Walla!  You have a shake.  

When they returned home, mom wanted to try out her new mix. She pulled out the blender and put in all the ingredients and began to blend.  Mom then poured it into a glass and took the now liquefied, powdered, masterpiece to dad.  He immediately took a drink and was impressed with mom's blending skills.  She then left him to enjoy the sumptuous drink, while she cleaned up the kitchen.  

During that time, she heard dad making these spitting sounds.  You know how people do when they are spitting out sunflower seeds?  She couldn't help but wonder what dad was spitting out from her delectable shake, so she said, "Ray, what are you doing?"  And dad retorted, "I'm spitting out this paper." "What paper? I didn't put paper in the shake," said mom.  Dad then replied, "Well, if it's red, white and blue and has writing on it, it's paper." Turns out, there were recipes in the top of the jar that mom didn't notice and they unknowingly became part of a recipe themselves.  It didn't stop dad from enjoying the shake. It just took a little longer to swallow.

Another, of my favorite stories is when mom decided to fry up some okra one evening for dinner.  Mom had a small little fryer, so she just had to empty the bag okra in the basket and then drop the basket in the oil.  Mom, got busy preparing the other items for the meal, so she asked dad to come and check the okra for her.  He pulled up the basket and looked intently into the fine, fried veggies and couldn't help but think that something was very wrong.  "Mary Sue, are you sure this is okra?" he asked with true confusion. "Yes, why?" said mom, getting a little defensive.  (She gets kinda defensive about her vittles sometimes.) "Well, it looks like you're frying pecans," dad said.  Sure enough, mom had fried up about a dozen pecans.  They ended up snacking on a couple then put them back in the freezer after having a good laugh.  

There are many more culinary delights that will be coming in later posts.  These are not the only cooking tales I have in my arsenal, there are many, many more to come. ;o)

Turn out the lights, the party's over.

Our house in Austin, was a small 3 bedroom, 2 bath home with a garage that had been converted into a play room.  It was the perfect home for mom and me.  We loved our little house.  It was a beautiful avocado green and so were all of our appliances.  The 70's were truly a special time for vegetable colors.  Our home had all we needed; a fireplace, a nice kitchen, and a big backyard.  The only thing your house had that ours probably didn't have were functioning lights.

We did everything in the dark. We ate in the dark, took baths in the dark, cooked in the dark, went to the bathroom in the dark, played in the dark, etc.  We were fine, until our friends and neighbors came over and discovered that we had no functioning lights.  For some strange reason, they didn't think I should do as much in the dark as I did.

Even the people at my daycare had a problem with it, because every time I went to the bathroom, I actually made an effort to turn off lights, rather than turn them on.  I even tried turning off our classroom lights each day I went into class.  My teachers at school decided to implement a plan to reward me each time I went to the bathroom with the lights on.  OK, I might be a little "special" too.

It seemed, that one weekend one of our friends got tired of not being to see and made an effort to go buy lights and put them in every spot that needed one.  It was such a sweet gesture.  We then had kitchen lights.  Our bathrooms glowed with illumination.  Our bedrooms sparkled under the 60 watt luminescence.  It really was pretty.  Little did they know that the lights were still only ever used if they were there. At least, they felt better about us and that's all that seemed to matter.  

One thing that really was hard for me to understand, as a child, was that I couldn't do many things with my mom that other kids could do with their parents.  For instance, I couldn't color with her or play most board games.  Fortunately, the card game Uno came out about that time.  I still remembering us sitting at the dinner table with mom's braille writer. I read her every color and number on each card and she labeled them so we could play together.  Do you know how large an Uno deck is?  It took us a few days, but we did it! Mom even taught me how to play Spades and Hearts.  But no Candy Land or Operation or Checkers or Battle Ship, the awesome games of my childhood that I wanted to play so badly.  That was sad for me and since I had no siblings it did get kind of lonely and boring.

That is probably why I became as big of a TV guru as I did as kid.  It was was one of the few things we could do together.  Next, you're probably going to say that mom couldn't watch TV.  WRONG!  I hate it when people say that, yes she does!  Every day, in fact.  She loves QVC and Court TV and mystery shows.  Mom watches just like us, except she doesn't see the faces and pictures but she can understand the storyline.  Shows that have lots of conversation versus action are her favorites.  We would sit on the couch and watch Magnum PI, Bonanza, Dukes of Hazard, and many other oldies but goodies together.  I would describe them and mom would explain parts that didn't make much sense to me.  It was a joint effort.

We were also blessed that my grandmother was able to pick up in places where mom couldn't.  She would put my hair in pony tails and color with me.  She loved to sit and do puzzles. We could sit in silence for hours doing puzzles, one after the other.  Grandma taught me some basics in sewing, and cooking, decorating, and cleaning.  She was truly a kind and unselfish soul. Being with her helped fill in the gaps that mom couldn't provide without making my mom feel guilty or me feel deprived.

Sometimes, I would color pictures at grandma's house and then take them home for mom to see.  She would feel them ask me what colors I used and what I drew.  This was how I believed everyone looked at art.  It was a hard lesson when I learned I was wrong. When I would draw pictures at school and show them to my teachers for their approval, they would just glance and then say how nice my drawing was, this was a total let down.  One day, I had to break the news to mom that my teachers were not looking at my art right.  She then had to explain to me that not everyone could see the way she does.  I guess it really didn't dawn on me how different my mom was until then.  I had just accepted our world as normal, little did I know how truly unique we were.

How did she do it?

After becoming a parent myself, I really have no idea how mom kept up with me.  My minion is into everything and can destroy small villages if given the opportunity.  So, to think of my little ole blind momma dealing with a crawler, then a toddler and a crazy, run for their life walker, I was in awe. How did she do it?

Some of you might be wondering where was my dad in all of this?  And that is a good question.  To be truthfully honest, dad was probably laying on the bed watching TV or reading a Guns and Ammo magazine. When you envision a couch potato, my dad could be the poster child.  Please, don't misunderstand me, my dad is a good man, but just not very present in much of my life or his own for that matter. Much of whatever was done with me or to me was accomplished through the efforts of mom.

Back then, mom had amazing hearing and sometimes I swore she had eyes in the back of her head, because she always knew what I was doing, dammit! But probably the reason she knew is because she put bells on my shoes.  That's how she always found me when I started crawling and much to her dismay, I began walking at 10 months old.  Poor woman!  Though, the bells were not fool proof and at times I was stealthy.

One day, mom was sitting on the floor talking on the phone, which my mother still does almost constantly to this day.  I was sitting beside her, being an angel, as always.  At some point, things got very quite and she reached over to see if I was still there, but I had disappeared.  Mom started crawling on the floor reaching out for me and calling my name, but I never answered.  She then crawled into the kitchen searching and my bedroom, but still no Cindy.  In the midst of the search, mom had to go to the bathroom.  When she sat down on the toilet, she heard a little giggle and there she found me behind the bathroom door.  You will learn in later stories how valuable doors are to our little family.  I continue to have fun with them and her to this day.

Another of the extraordinarily precious things I learned to do was to shred my diaper.  The first incident happened when I was about 7 months old.  One Sunday morning, I seemed to be sleeping a bit later than usual.  Mom came in to check on me and found that I had pooped and didn't want that filth on me anymore.  So, I took off the diaper and decided to paint a beautiful mosaic on my bedroom wall and my crib. Of course, when mom found this she vomited in the crib and all the way to the bathroom. Mom was able to pull herself together enough to clean me up. And thankfully, dad pulled himself off the bed long enough to clean the crib and my mosaic.  I think they really bonded that day, all over my my poop.  Good times, good times.

Babies!

When mom became pregnant with me, she was over the moon with joy.  Little did she know how wonderful I really was going to become in the years ahead. He he he! Sadly, not others felt that a blind person having a baby was a good decision.  Again, ugly stereotypes and ignorance exist in the strangest of places. One day shortly after learning about her pregnancy mom was in the employee bathroom and one of her co-workers asked if she was going to abort me. My mom was of course very offended by this question, as I'm sure most of us would have been if we were in her shoes.  She felt entirely capable of caring for me and though it was difficult at times, she did it, and did a pretty amazing job if I do say so myself. 

Many of us parents have a large support system when we come home from the hospital with our babies, but sadly, my mom did not.  My mother's parents had both already passed away before I was born but my dad's mom, Clara was able to be there for mom in the beginning. Grandma helped mom learn to sterilize bottles, work around the umbilical cord (because let's face it, it's kinda gross), and dress me.  Mom's coordination is not very good and learning to do the snaps and have them line up was quite a challenge.  Mom fortunately, already knew how to change a diaper due to some of her baby sitting experience as a teenager, but I still don't know how she didn't puke on me every time I pooped.  I can guarantee you that she gagged, every time. 

Many people wonder how she bathed me and I think that is probably a fear of many parents.  Mom is no different, but all you need to do is think outside of the box a little.  Between mom and grandma a plan was devised.  There were baby baths back then, and it allowed my head to be elevated enough to where I didn't slide and the water wasn't close to my head.  As I got bigger, it was just easier for mom to bath me in the sink. So, she would put a towel in the the bottom to keep me from sliding around then plop me in.  It was a sad day for mom when I discovered the sprayer.  I'm sure you can imagine what happened on your own. 

Many people from mom's office wanted to come and visit.  I'm sure much of it was out of pure curiosity   of a blind mother caring for a new baby rather than just wanting to see a newborn.  They came in droves, 3 or 4 to a group.  They held me and played with me and cooed at me, but the real fun was if I peed or pooped so they could watch mom change my diaper.  They would follow her to the back of the house and just gawk as they watched the process. Mom and I believe that them being able to see her at home, with her child, instilled a new level of respect in her abilities.  Maybe she wasn't so different after all.

Mom also had many blind friends and they came to visit as well.  Believe it or not, mom is not the only wonderful blind mom out there, there are many of them and I'm blessed enough to have some them as a part of my extended family to this day. Mom always let her friends hold me, believe it or not many people don't want a person with blindness to hold their children, because they automatically think the worst.  She always wanted them to have a chance to feel what sweetness that only new babies can instill in the hearts of her friends and to give them the trust that she felt they deserved. 

Some people wonder about my clothes and how mom picked them out.  Probably not much different that what you might look for in your own clothes.  She always wanted things that felt nice and pretty tactually.  She liked me to be in girlie clothes with smocking and ruffles, things you will not see me ever were now. My grandmother, who was probably the second most wonderful woman to ever walk this earth in my eyes, made many of my clothes and she made them so that they were easy for my mom to find what matched and to put on without too much fuss. 

Now, what I'm going to tell you next is what nightmares are made of.  I'm afraid that some of you may never look at me and mom the same way after I tell you this next story.  This tale is not one I will discuss with you in public, if we meet on a street, don't bring this up. Keep it to yourself and laugh if you must, but again I ask you, don't talk to me about it.  It was a cold winter day and my mom had two friends visiting.  One of them could see and the other was totally blind.  They had been discussing my bathroom habits, as all of us parents do.  Evidently, a consensus was reached that I was constipated. A plan of action was put into motion.  Our sighted friend, Mary, suggested that mom give me a suppository and mom agreed that this just might do the trick.  So, Mary held my little legs in the air while mom unwrapped the suppository and began to search for the right orifice.  Mom felt the crevices and somehow chose the wrong one.  Mary, was talking to, mom's other friend, Ann at the time and didn't see where mom slipped the glycerin bullet but when I began to cry, she knew something did not go as planned.  Every since then, it has been said that I lost my virginity to a glycerin suppository. I am thankful to have this story behind us.

Mornings

When I was 4, mom and dad decided to divorce.  I can honestly say that I really don't even remember my dad being at home much as a child. So, the divorce really was not a big deal to me.  Dad went to live with his mother in north Austin, and we stayed at our home on the south side of Austin.  The day he left, I do remember mom closing the door behind him and having a a noisy but short cry.  I went and grabbed her hand and said, "Momma, it'll be OK.  I'm still here.  Let's dance." And we did.  I found my favorite Kenny Rogers album and put it on the record player and we danced.  I was a real sweetie, wasn't I? 

We settled into our new life quite well, I thought.  Mom had good stable job at Social Security as a Service Representative and each day we would get up to start our day together.  

The mornings of my early childhood were torturous. My mother has always been a morning person. A singing song, never needs a cup of coffee, wake up loving life, kinda morning person.  It was horrible! Because I am not.  I don't like to talk for at least an hour and I don't really want to be touched in any form or fashion.  I'm cranky dammit, let me be.  As a 4 year old though, there just wasn't much I could do about it. So, mom would get up, take her shower and then come and get me ready for school, singing songs from the Sound of Music or a song about this damned broken doll that was being mended for Christmas day. It was horrible, but the woman loved to get my feathers in a ruffle, not much different than today.  

We would then amble into the bathroom where she would continue her singing and wash my face with a washcloth that I believe she kept in the fridge overnight. She would continue her ministrations by giving me what is commonly referred to as a whore's bath, I was bathed head to toe with that frigid cloth.  Every single morning.  She did this even if I had a bath the night before, it didn't matter, that woman was going to make sure all of my crevices were stench free.  Seriously, I'm scarred from it.

After, my ice bath, mom would dress me.  I know I could have gotten dressed by myself, but I loved watching the expressions on her face as she did it.  Her tying my shoes was the best part.  I would lay on the bed and she would put the shoe on my foot and then rest it on her tummy, while she tied the laces.  All the while she would be sticking her little tongue out, just a tad from her lips.  I always wondered if she could tie the laces minus the tongue or if the tongue was really an instrumental part of the whole process. 

After the dressing, we would then go to the living room and sit in mom's great big rocking chair and rock until our ride got there.  Austin has one of the best para transit systems and we had a regular driver each morning.  His name was Johnny, and each day he would stop at a gas station and buy me a honey bun before I was dropped off at day care.  

It was a good life.  But not all mornings were this glorious.  Not long after mom and dad's divorce, a friend gave us a German Shepard named Lady.  Lady was beautiful.  She had tall pointy ears and she was very sweet natured, but Lady did have one major flaw, Lady was probably the dumbest dog I have ever encountered.  I'm a huge animal person, especially, when it comes to dogs, but Lady really was "special." Lady did have gifts, unfortunately, none of them revolved around following directions or being trainable.

One day, we awoke to a spider web that Lady entangled all over my swing set.  She had made it over the bar on top, wrapped it around the see saw, under the slide and around the swing.  We did not own twine before Lady literally pulled it out of her ass. It was a piece of art! Seriously, the dog was gifted with what little brain matter she did have. You could tell she was so proud of herself, and I have to admit, we were pretty proud of her too, in an awe struck, "what the heck have you done?" sort of way.    

But, the day Lady really made her mark, was one very cold Austin winter night. On this particular night, temperatures were going to dip below freezing and we didn't want anything to happen to our special girl, so mom decided she would allow Lady in for the night.  

Now, there is something you need to know about my mom, she has a very easy gag reflex. For instance, if I said, "Oh mother, Lucas has a green booger hanging out of his nose." She would gag and then for some unknown reason to me, she will pull her shirt up over her nose until she knows that I have removed the booger.  It doesn't matter that the booger has no odor.  It's just the idea of a green booger being near.  I know, I know, she's pretty "special" too. 

Well, as you might guess, Lady had free reign of the house over the night and she chose to sleep in mom's room.  Well, around 5 or 6 the next morning I hear my name being called.  It's mom, and she's kind of gagging in between yelling for me.  The conversation went like this...

"Cindy, it's mommy. Are you awake? Gag. I need you to listen to me very carefully. Lady has had a bad, gag, accident in mommy's room.  I need you to go get some paper towels and put them on the poop, gag, gag, so that mommy can clean it up. Do you understand?"  Me being in a sleepy state, didn't ask questions, I just found the poop and did as she asked.  I then helped her navigate her way to the poop without stepping in it and then I went back to my room and climbed into my cozy bed.  All the while, the only sound I hear in the other room is her gagging and coughing and gagging.  

Now, mom will tell you that this was a horrible morning, but I'd like to think of it as sweet revenge for all the singing and ice baths. ;o) 

So you know sign language, right?

Today, I thought I would go over some information regarding blindness.  You always hear about discrimination against the disabled and yes, it's there and it's prevalent, but I also think much of it is just pure ignorance.  My mom and I both believe that teaching people what to do or say around a person who is blind is much more helpful than getting angry and making a fool of yourself and the person at the same time. 

So let's start off with some basics.  These are VERY common questions, that we have been asked all of our knowing days.  

1) Do you know sign language?

Uh, that would be a negative ghost rider.  Most people who are blind read Braille, which is a series of dots.  It is not a language, it is a code, and quite a fun one if you ever care to learn it. If you are sighted and you learn Braille, you would learn it visually, not tactually like a person with blindness. 

2) Your hearing must be fantastic!

Actually, no.  Mom's hearing is just like all of ours, she just uses it differently than we do. In the past few years, she has lost a great deal of hearing and has had to get hearing aides.  It has been a very difficult adjustment for her.  Can you imagine, being blind and losing hearing, your most valuable asset next to your sense of smell? It's been rough for her.  I would also like to add that this has been a very difficult adjustment for me, because the woman refuses to wear the darn hearing aides and she can't hear sh!t! Someone talk to her puleeze! 

3) Do you want to feel my face and see what I look like?

Absolutely not!!!! Seriously folks, do you really want a person feeling all over your face with their grubby hands?  Blind people don't do that, I don't care what the movies tell you! Watch the movie Ray.  Jamie Foxx did an amazing job portraying Ray Charles.  He was right, they feel your arm, can listen to you breathe, listen to your voice, smell you, hear the way you walk; from that information they can gather all the data they need to know about you.  How tall you are, if you're overweight or a twig, if you have bathed recently, if you're dressed up or casual, etc.  They don't need to feel your face to know this stuff.  Then later they will find a sighted person and get the full load of information on you and from that they will create an image of what they believe you look like to them. I, of course, resemble a fairy princess. ;o)

4) Where's your stick? Or Do you have a blind dog? 

Let me first begin with the stick question.  This is my personal pet peeve. It is called a cane.  It does two things 1) it is to let you, the sighted person, know that they are blind and 2) it helps them navigate their surroundings. When they are holding a cane they can also hold onto your arm, but that is a choice for them.  Not all people with blindness will accept help from others.  It is a personal decision.  Some individuals are quite scared of walking with a sighted person because not all, or should I say, not many do it correctly and it could cause the person to get hurt. If you are with a blind person, ask them what they would prefer.  My mother personally chooses to walk on my left side.  She holds my upper arm and as I walk that puts her a step behind me.  She then can tell if she needs to step up or down.  Some blind people do count steps but not all.  It's really not a very reliable method.  Stairs, yes, steps, not so much.

Now let's discuss this dog issue.  First, it is not a blind dog.  Come on now!  If the dog was blind too, what good would it do? It is a seeing eye dog or a guide dog.  Not all blind people have them.  It is a personal choice.  There is a lot of care, maintenance and training that a person must go through for a guide dog.  It is a big decision and commitment.  My mom has never had a guide dog, because she always had a desk job and felt it would not be fair for the dog to just sit under the desk all day. Also, the dogs must be trained to go where the person wants them to go, dogs don't just know to take them to the bus stop, or to the bathroom.  They must be taught those things.  

I will stop our lesson in blindness today, but I hope some of this information has been helpful to you. Remember there are no stupid questions....ok, really there are, but that's just between us.

************

Since this blog is meant to share some of our daily activities, which we find mundane at times, but others tend to love, here is my first tale for your enjoyment.....Today, I had to take mom to the doctor to have blood work done.  In this particular facility, the lab is it's own office.  You go fill out the sign in sheet and wait your turn.  I rarely go back with mom to have her labs drawn.  I figure, let someone else take her for a little bit, she loves talking to everyone, so this is a perfect outing for her.  

The lady calls her name I take mom to the nice, seemingly, innocent soul, and mom immediately begins to try and ask her for her left arm.  The woman is a little slow on the uptake, if you catch my drift.  Eventually, she figures out why mom needs her arm.  I just like watching the show sometimes. It can be quite comical if you have seen it enough times.  Anyways, 10 minutes later here comes mom.  I gather her up and as we are waiting on the elevator she says, "They wanted a urine sample.  The lady was going to come get you and I had to stop her and say, 'I don't want her in here for that.' Did she really think I needed you to hold a pee cup for me?" 

Now friends, I love my mother, really, I do, but I am not going to hold a cup between her legs while she pees.  There is a line.  Blind or not, we all have lines we just don't cross.  This being one of them. 

Have a fantastic day!

 

Let's start at the beginning....It all began one cold, wintry December day in Austin, Texas at St. David's Hospital. Actually, I have no clue about the weather, but my little ole blind mother labored for over a day and a half.  She wanted a natural birth, but I would not cooperate and therefore, I was taken via c-section.  My mom and dad had planned to name me Sheryl Diane, after her best friend, but as soon as dad saw me, he said, "Well, Mary Sue, we can name her Sheryl, but she looks like a Cindy to me." So, Cynthia Diane it was.

Let me go back here just for a minute and introduce you to the characters of this play.  My mom, is Mary Sue and she was born in Huntsville, Texas to Walter Thomas and Mary Dee Cauthen. During my grandmother's pregnancy with my mom, my grandmother fell off the back porch.  It is believed that this fall caused my mother's eyes to stop development.  When she was born, no one really paid attention to the fact that she wasn't noticing lights, or changes in scenery or following objects.  My grandfather was the first person to make the doctors aware of what he believed to be quite a serious visual problem. After, many dr. appointments my mother was diagnosed with congenital glaucoma.  Probably, now a days, she would have a totally different diagnosis, but back then little was known about children who were blind from birth.  All, my life my mother has worried that I, too, would have glaucoma, but fortunately, I just have bad eye sight.  No glaucoma.

For our second actor, we have my father, Dennis Ray Melton.  For the sake of my story, let's just call him Dad. He was born to Jack Madison and Clara Smith Melton. Sadly, I never knew my grandfather nor did my dad for very long.  He was killed in a car crash when my father was only four. My grandmother never remarried and worked very hard to support my dad and his older brother Johnny.  Since she was usually working several jobs to pay the bills, my great grandparents were my dad's primary guardians for much of his life. My father was also a vietnam war veteran.  He served two tours and the day before he was to come home on his final tour he was hit by shrapnel.  He lost vision in one eye and had fairly major injuries to his back and leg.

My parents actually met at the Broken Spoke in Austin.  If you don't know what the Broken Spoke is, I suggest you go to Austin and find out.  It is a special place and I'm betting the decor hasn't changed much since my parents met back in the 60's.

Are you following this so far? She's blind and he is legally blind in one eye, oh and he has PTSD. This has nothing but interesting written all over it right?

Just you wait....there will be marriages, divorces, deaths, affairs, drunken bar piano bar singing, cars hitting cows, SWAT team stand offs, college binge drinking (my mother not me), motorcycle  rides from blind folks, and the list could go on.

I will do my best to add a little each day. I'm still trying to figure out this whole blogger, thing.  I'm sure I'll get better with time. Please be patient with me.