Brockville was a different story. Parking was much easier, the
streets were wider and the first thing I heard on the main intersection of town
was the audible signal on the traffic lights. We happened to arrive here on a
Saturday, the day of the downtown Farmers Market and also the same day as the
poker boat run from the Brockville Harbour. I didn’t really need to see the
boats as they came in because the woman standing behind me described them all
in detail. A cacophony of other sounds also assaulted my ears – the thumping of
the motors of some of the larger boats, the whine of the turbine engines of the
racing boats, the rippling of the waves and their subsequent splash against the
cement of the waterfront promenade. There were people everywhere and even the
faint whiff of kerosene in the air drifting up from the turbine engines. I wore
my vest and carried my cane but I don’t think that I attracted much attention when
the focus of everyone, myself included, was on the array of spectacular boats
as one by one they motored into the harbour.
Still, this is the middle of today’s story and I must go back to the
beginning. At ten thirty, I was waiting by the bench in front of City Hall
while Lyle was checking out the Farmers Market. Along came another woman who
was about to sit on the bench. I called out a warning to her that the bench was
still wet from the previous night’s rain.
She straightened up and said, “Oh, thanks for letting me know. I’m
legally blind and wouldn’t have seen this until it was too late!”
With this immediate and unexpected connection, I stood up and
introduced myself. Debbie and her husband Ross live in Brockville and had just
come down for the Farmer’s Market. They knew nothing about my walks, but we had
lots to talk about. Debbie also uses an audible screen reading program on her
computer, although not the same one as I use.
We also discovered that we knew the same CNIB staff person from
Kingston. I know that in yesterday’s post I didn’t mention this person, but I
will do so now. Ann was my contact in Kingston and I was surprised and pleased
when she recognised the name of my eye condition, PXE. It is an unusual condition and for most
people, the name means nothing at all. When Ann said that she knew what it was
and also that another Kingston client had the same eye condition, I felt a kind
of relief. The only way I can explain it is that it is like traveling in a
foreign country where all around you are strange tongues and languages, and
suddenly you hear a snatch of your own language. Instantly you know that you
aren’t alone.
Now for the end of the Brockville story. As Lyle and I were leaving,
Debbie asked how long we would be staying in town. I responded that we would be
staying until the next day when we hoped to find an Anglican church to attend
in the morning. This time it was Debbie’s turn to be surprised. She gave us the
name and address of the same Anglican church she would be attending and we plan
to meet there tomorrow. As Debbie said,
“Some things are just meant to be.”
Following is a picture looking up the main plaza of town towards the
Law Courts. There is a lot of history in
this city.
What wonderful experiences you are having. I never thought about all the sounds you describe at the race I know that I would not have heard or smelled the sights.
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