November 27 - Who Are You?

I’m pretty good at remembering names, but I’m hopeless at matching names to faces.  The reason for this is simple.  I just can’t see the faces.  If only people would identify themselves before starting a conversation!  That way I would be saved the embarrassment of needing to ask - Who are you?

It’s not all doom and gloom.  Sometimes I can identify people because of a unique characteristic.  For instance, in winter Nettie wears a tall, fuzzy black hat and I can spot her before she speaks.  Norma has a shock of white hair, and Ulla has a strong Dutch accent. I can recognize her voice before she says her name.

Things are always easier when I meet people where I expect to see them.  I know and recognize by friends on the walking trail.  I know and recognize my friends when we meet for Monday morning coffee.  It is when I meet people not in their usual context that it is more difficult.

Last week, Lyle and I were walking from the car park into the shopping centre.  We met a woman coming towards us with her loaded shopping cart.  She greeted us enthusiastically but I had no idea who she was.  She must have seen my blank expression, because right away she said, “It’s Elsa from the church.”

Both of these clues were helpful.  I know three Elsas but only one from the church.  Indeed, if we had been meeting at the church I think I would have recognized my friend.  In the shopping mall I needed the additional identity check.

So, the moral of this little story is - if you know someone who has limited or no sight, please identify yourself at the beginning of a conversation.  Even if you are a friend it is helpful to do this.  It saves the person with low or no vision having to ask the question - Who are you?

November 15 - An Ocean Cruise

Back in October, Lyle and I set out on an ocean cruise.  We sailed from Seattle, Washington, to Sydney, Australia.  This wasn’t our first cruise experience, but at 23 days it certainly was our longest.

When we expressed to friends our intention to book this trans-Pacific crossing, we were frequently asked two questions:

 

    1)  Did we think that 23 days with about half of them at sea, be too long? 

 

    2) Did I think that a long ocean voyage would be a worthwhile experience for someone who is blind     or partially sighted? 

 

My answer to both questions is the same. It all depends on your expectations.

For us, this particular cruise was all that we anticipated and hoped for. We were both tired after my two recent surgeries.  Life on board the ship meant that I hadn’t needed to cook a meal, wash a dish, make a bed, or do any housework.  It was a great way to rest and recuperate.

The evening entertainment was great.  We heard three different comedians, a variety of singers with different styles, a saxophonist, and an absolutely fantastic classical pianist.  It was also a good mix of daytime activities and programs - dance lessons, wine tasting, lessons on origami folding and other arts and crafts, cooking demonstrations, trivia competitions, and the list goes on.  There seemed to be something for everyone whether they were sighted or not.  There were also two swimming pools, a fitness center, an outdoor walking track, and a pickle ball court. We didn’t participate in everything, but chose the ones most interesting to us. 

Then of course, there were the ports of call.  The prettiest of these had to be Easu, part of the Loyalty Islands in New Caledonia.  At Easu, the ship anchored in the bay and passengers were tendered in lifeboats across to the pier on the shore.  There are two pictures with this post.  The first was taken from our balcony looking across to the dock, a small beach to the left.  The second was taken from the shore looking back to our Holland America ship.

 

 

Looking from the balcony at a small boat and beach

At the harbour looking at the ship

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

November 6 - What Does a Blind Person Look Like

So, did you think about the question of my last post and did you come up with the subject of travel?  Lyle and I love to travel, so in a way you are right.  For us, it’s not just the different places we like to see and visit, but for us travel means new experiences and interesting conversations.  This post is about one of those travel conversations.

Two weeks ago, Lyle and I were on a flight from Edmonton to Vancouver.  We had pre-boarded and our carry on and my white cane were in the overhead luggage bin.  I was tired and I closed my eyes as other passengers boarded.  Suddenly I felt the presence of someone hovering close by.  I opened my eyes to see a flight attendant crouched in the aisle beside me.

”Mrs. Boman?” she queried, and I nodded my head.  She continued, “I thought it might be you.  I knew there was a blind passenger on board, but then I wasn’t sure.  You were in the right seat, but I thought it couldn’t be you.  You look so … so … so normal.”

I refrained from asking the young woman what she thought a blind person should look like.  Do you have an image in your mind of a “typical” blind person?

A few days after this incident we were at a comedy show where the performer asked the audience if we had heard the latest conspiracy theory about Stevie Wonder.  It was rumoured, he said, that although Stevie Wonder looked blind, perhaps he could actually see.

Now I know that Stevie Wonder has ROP (Retinopathy of Prematurity).  This condition occurs when an oxygen-rich atmosphere in the hospital incubator damages the optic nerve, causing blindness.  This was a common hospital practice for preemies in the 1950’s, but is not so anymore. Stevie Wonder is totally blind.

How ironic then to think that although Stevie Wonder might look blind, rumours circulate that he might be able to see.  On the other hand, I don’t look blind but often other people don’t realize how little I actually do see.

Image - an interesting word with interesting connotations.  What do you picture in your mind’s eye when you think of someone who is blind or partially sighted?

November 1 – A Special Club

Today I want to write about a very special group of people. Lyle is a member of this club. Often the members of this group are unnoticed – even seemingly invisible. Yet, people like myself would struggle without them. They are our care givers – the people who support us on a daily basis. They perform this service with unselfish generosity. I want to thank the members of this group. I especially want to thank Lyle. My life over the past years would have been very different without his support. As the song goes, he is indeed the wind beneath my wings.

While some organizations have formal groups to support people who support others, many care givers work in the background. When I look around my own circle of friends, I see many caring people who give so much of themselves. If you too know of a special person who is caring and supporting someone else, I hope that you would be able to take the time to recognize that effort. I try to say thank you whenever I can. For instance, right now I would like to recognize my son-in-law who has faithfully managed the posting of this blog ever since I began it in 2011. Thank you, Andrew!

There is a picture with this post. Perhaps it will give you a hint as to what I will write about next. In the picture, Lyle and I are standing at our front door. We have our backpacks and there is a big red suitcase on the ground in front of us. I am holding a white support cane. Are these enough clues for you to guess the subject of my next post?

Lyle and Sue in front of their door