Category: Blindness

The Country of the Sighted

“In the country of the blind, the one-eyed man is king.”
H. G. Wells

The following Email exchange occurred six years ago on the NFB-Talk discussion listserve. Said exchange resulted in the list administrator placing me on “moderated” status. This made me so angry that I unsubscribed from the list in a huff. Later, I reconsidered joining after I had cooled off, but realized that I didn’t miss the list that much, so I didn’t bother.

I will paste the correspondence below, then unpack it for you all. This shouldn’t be necessary, but given the ultra-reactionary times in which we live, I guess it’s necessary.

Here is the exchange:

December 17, 2011

Hi there,

Here’s a question that I guess could also be somewhat philosophical in that it will make us think about how we deal with and interact with sighted people.

As blind folks, do you think we have a responsibility to not only make our homes comfortable and accessible for us and the folks with whom we live, but also to sighted folks?

I’ve heard comments in the past that basically say that since it’s a blind person’s home, then the only thing that should be of concern is that things are comfortable and accessible for the blind person.

I’ve been thinking a lot about this over a long period of time. I have some friends that come over, and one in particular who stays in my guest room when he’s in town, and when all of that happens, I’m the only blind person around. All of a sudden, I begin to think about lights and the amount of light in a room. I begin thinking of making sure that appliances that are labeled in Braille are done using clear tape so that they can also use them.
I even began thinking of the layout of my living room and how one of my friends finally said that it was uncomfortable to do things like watch TV or watch movies, because of how my furniture and TV are placed. People have to face sideways to be able to watch TV. And, my TV is so old that it doesn’t support or have HD capabilities.

I began wondering about the importance of a blind person having an aesthetically or visually appealing house, not only for himself but also for the sighted friends and family that come to visit. Are we being selfish by not considering these things, or should sighted company learn to live with how we have things and deal with them?

I’m beginning to think that if I care about my friends and family, then I should do something to make them feel comfortable in a place where they spend quite a bit of time. But then, where does one draw the line?

Anyway, hope you don’t mind the question. Just curious what other blind folks (especially those who are totally blind) think.

Thanks,

Juan

My response:

Juan:

Next time your friends come over and bitch about the lack of light, say something like this:

“You know what,” (insert name) “…You know what? Every freakin’ day, I get up and move around in a sighted world. I work on a finite schedule with the aid of public transit because I can’t drive. If the bus or train is late…so am I. If inclement weather strikes, I don’t get in my car and turn on the windshield wipers. I freeze my nuts off in the rain or snow until I can get on a bus.

When I go shopping, I pray to God that I can land a shopper’s assistant who is, at the very least, literate. If they speak English, it makes my day. If they speak English fluently…Jesus, I’ve been known to weep with joy. If I shop on line, I’ll be lucky if capcha, internet graphics and flash don’t give me a migraine that could floor Robin Williams on a coke binge!

Sorry if I seem a little grumpy. I just came from a job for which I’m vastly over-qualified. I have a freakin’ master’s degree in mathematics, or genetics, or whatever, but every institution/company at which I apply is run by sighted pricks who have figured out a way not to hire me. God bless the ADA and the well-intentioned, ignorant bastards who sleep better at night for having passed it. And God bless social security, who is still haunting my ass four years later because I forgot to report the
income I made running a cash register so that I could put bread on the table in between college semesters.

It makes a guy wonder if Walter White didn’t have a point. Screw it! Can blind people be meth cookers? You ever see Breaking Bad? You know…it’s that super good crime show on AMC that doesn’t air with description because Hollywood is too God damn cheap to give us description with all of their content, even though they can well afford to do so with minimal effort.

You want friggin’ light bulbs? Drive to the store and grab a few boxes. I’d take you myself, but I haven’t won the Power Ball yet and can’t afford a self-driving car. But let me give you directions. Siri! Work! C’mon, damn it! What’s the nearest Wal-Mart?

Flashlight? Who are you kidding? What friggin’ flashlight? Just use my cigar lighter to light your way to the door. Pick me up a new can of butane on the way back. Yes, I smoke cigars. No, I’m not amazing. Dealing with your ignorant ass makes me wanna smoke one right now. No, I don’t need help lighting it. Get your damn hands off me before Mr. Fist meets Mr. Sack!

It’s your world and you’re the king. Every day, I get up and I don’t just live. I thrive, brother. Grow the hell up!”

Then, out loud you can say:

“Umm, sure thing, man. Sorry for my insensitivity to your situation. Can you drive me to the nearest Safeway to grab a few bulbs? And hey…can we swing through for a Big Mac on the way home?”

Now Juan, I’ve been assuming that the people in question are men. If they are women, just say:

“Lights? Honey, for what we’re gonna be doin’, we don’t need no freakin’ lights.”

Sexist and boorish, but oh so true.

Love,

RyanO

That was the little chat that caused Dave, the NFB list admin, to write me and accuse me of exhibiting, “Bigotry toward the sighted.” Once again, let me state that it makes me sad to have to explain myself, but here goes.

Any clear-thinking individual would not interpret my previous message as being bigoted toward the sighted in any way. It was a mixture of sarcasm and satire. It is factual. Every day, we as blind people get up and operate within a sighted world. Although social morays seem to be changing, we must still adhere to the pragmatic view that the world defers to those who can see. This is not a question of philosophy; it is fact.

It is really a matter of numbers. The number of sighted people so drastically outweighs the number of blind people that it would not make any kind of sense not to set up the constructs of the world to favor the sighted.

That said, I find it darkly ironic that anyone would worry about the feelings of the sighted when they still reign victorious in every arena that matters. It is a reality that I accept, but please permit me to feel a burst of anger about it from time to time. This doesn’t mean that I am angry about my blindness, or in denial, or maladjusted. It simply means that, when I go outside my apartment and walk to the bus stop and have to travel in the street because there are no sidewalks to be found anywhere in my neighborhood, I might get a bit cranky, particularly when the first big snow of the season hits.

Am I a bad host? I try not to be. When my sighted pals Kevin or Christina come over, I make sure to accommodate them. If a lightbulb is burned out, I will replace it. I don’t own a TV, but if I did, I’d make sure to place it in such a position that my sighted guests would be comfortable while watching it. If I dated or married a sighted or partially sighted woman, and she wanted to hang pictures on the walls, or decorate our home in a fashion which she found visually pleasing, I would be all for it.

Incidentally, the last time my friend Christina visited, she helped me mark my microwave and my laundry machines, which are both touch panel. My thermostat is a bit more tricky as it is a push-button device with a visual display. I usually just call the good folks at Be My Eyes if I want to change the temperature, while I save up to buy a talking unit.

The philosophical money shot of Juan’s message (his real name is Jim, by the way), is this:

“Are we being selfish by not considering these things, or should sighted company learn to live with how we have things and deal with them?

I have never been a homeowner, but I have lived in my share of apartments. However, my parents owned the home in which I grew up. I have friends and family who own homes. Their domiciles are places that reflect their personalities. My pal Steve adorned the walls of his apartments with all manner of sports memorabilia. My father is an avid hunter, so it’s natural that he would have a few animal heads stuffed and mounted on his wall. Should my parents then go to great lengths to take down all evidence of Dad’s carnivorous tendencies if an ardent animal lover visits them at their house? No. Should my folks think about not entertaining said guest in the area where the animal heads are visible? That would go under the heading of good manners, in my opinion.

So yes, I think we should reasonably accommodate our sighted friends and family as a matter of courtesy and consideration. But don’t call me a bigot because I find a lot of dark irony in Juan’s questions. We used to call him Jaime, by the way.

As I said, this message was written six years ago. Certain things are dated in it. I referenced Robin Williams, who is no longer with us. Breaking Bad was still on the air. To this day, I’ve never found a described version that I can pirate from the Blind Mice Mall. Come on, Brits! Get with it! Also, it was written before Uber and Lyft became mainstream.

Yes… Uber and Lyft. Ride-sharing services have made it easier for us as blind people in many respects. Meanwhile, I went to order a Christmas gift for a friend the other night, but was not able to do so because the website was inaccessible. The owners of the company wrote me and said, “We appreciate your feedback. We hope to make changes to our site sometime next year and will do our best to incorporate the needs of our visually impaired customer base.”

Glad to hear it, guys. So should I just hold off till next Christmas? They don’t have a telephone option, but if they did, they would probably charge me an additional fee for ordering a product with a live representative. I’m reminded of the Springsteen song, “One step forward, two steps back.”

Now, if you want to accuse me of sexism or misogyny based on the “Honey, we won’t need no freakin’ lights,” comment, you could probably make a compelling case. That was written long before the #MeToo movement gained traction. However, I will take solace in the knowledge that I would never actually treat a woman in such a manner. I will humbly admit that I added that comment in an attempt to push buttons. It sure worked.

I will close with the words of Boyd Crowder from the TV series, Justified. After all, if we can open with Wells, we should close with Elmore Leonard, in the vain hope of trying to leaven this blog with a little culture, right?

“Whole world’s a tree, Raylan. I’m just a squirrel tryin’ to get a nut.”

Ghosts

There has been a great deal of talk over the past six days about Nazis and racism, punctuated by the violence in Charlottesville. Given the presidency of Donald Trump, this was a flair-up that was bound to happen sooner or later.

Someone I followed on Facebook made a comment that I’m paraphrasing here. “My grandfather fought in World War II, so I take this Nazi stuff very personally.”

I sympathize with this view. Both of my grandfathers, plus three uncles, fought in World War II, so I take it personally as well. I also take personally the fact that some members of the left are comparing the Antifa thugs to men like my grandfathers and uncles.

While the focus has largely been on President Trump, my thoughts are on Iceland. This past Monday, CBS News ran a story, discussing the fact that 100 percent of women in that country abort their babies if they are found to have Down syndrome. This is a phenomenon that is growing in Europe and beginning here in the United States as well. In my view, the tone of the report was positive.

I contrast this report with an Email I received from the Colorado Cross Disability Coalition a couple of months ago when healthcare reform was all the rage and it looked as if much-needed Medicaid reform would be a real possibility. The Email urged everyone to call and write their congressional representatives so that we might, “Avoid a second eugenics movement.”

Really? This from many of the same people who felt it necessary to occupy Cory Gardner’s office for days, until they were arrested for trespassing? All due respect, I can do without the hyperbole or the political theatrics. Moreover, if you want to see what real eugenics looks like, take a look at Iceland. Today, Down Syndrome. Tomorrow, when ultrasound technology becomes more advanced, why couldn’t it be babies who might be blind, deaf, crippled, or who’s brains might not develop properly?

You know who else loved the idea of designer babies? I’ll give you a hint. He was really big in Germany in the 1930’s and he damn near conquered Europe in the early 1940’s. So, all of you disabled people tossing around words like “Nazi,” and “Eugenics,” might want to do some research. Then, go take a hard look in the mirror and re-examine your own values system. Do you favor abortion under the pro-choice, pro-woman banner? If so, what’s your limiting principle? Many of you who call yourselves Christians or humanitarians, and who are tempted to just read this and move on, might ask yourselves some hard questions.

One more thing. Both of my grandfathers and all three uncles made it home from the battlefields of WW2, but not all of them were whole. Uncle Don had a severe case of battle fatigue; it would be called PTSD today. He could not speak coherently or fully take care of himself. He lived with my grandparents until he passed away. I was a kid when I knew him and, in my young mind, he rattled around in their basement like a strange, mumbling specter. Many countries might look at him today and decide that it would be more merciful to alleviate his suffering through euthanasia, rather than to expend the resources to provide him long-term care, despite his service to his country.

God bless you, Uncle Don. I hope it all makes sense to you now, because it sure doesn’t to me.

From dictionary.com:

Eugenics

Definition: The science of improving a human population by controlled breeding to increase the occurrence of desirable heritable characteristics. Developed largely by Francis Galton as a method of improving the human race, it fell into disfavor only after the perversion of its doctrines by the Nazis.

Whitewash

I was discussing the notion of white privilege with several coworkers yesterday.

One of them, who hails from Ecuador, is convinced that she faces a tide of constant discrimination in the U.S. because she is a Latina with dark skin. I chafed at the notion that white privilege is a universal concept, when another coworker jumped in.

“Yes, white privilege does exist. Societies tend to discriminate based on the lightness of one’s skin. Other cultures and countries even do it.”

I agree with this. I do think that a preference for lightness of skin is an unfortunate flaw of the species, but it’s not indigenous to white society.

I continued the discussion with yet another coworker this morning, balking at the notion of universal white privilege.

“Ryan!” he said. “You have white privilege. Accept it.”

I countered that, when people see me, they don’t see my white skin. The first thing they see is my white cane. He seemed less than convinced.

This presumption (that I encounter on my job daily) reminds me of a conversation I had with another blind woman several years ago. She grew up in the Boston ghetto (her term, not mine.) She was a white girl of Irish ancestry who was a minority amongst blacks and Hispanics. She faced a double whammy because she was also disabled.

When she was attending college, a professor told her class to write an essay explaining how white privilege had impacted their lives. She Emailed her prof and challenged her thinking, claiming that she had not benefitted from white privilege because she’d been a double minority in her neighborhood and school.

The professor’s reply was classic condescending leftist. “Sorry, Milissa. Even though you’re disabled, you still benefit from privilege.”

This lady had no inkling of Milissa’s background, yet she presumed to categorize and dismiss her out of hand.

I’m using Milissa’s name because I don’t think she’d care, by the way.

But what of this notion of privilege. My Ecuadorian coworker is probably the wealthiest person on staff where I work. She loves to wallow in her status as a victim, but she and her family live in a damn fine home. I’ve been there. What if said coworker walked into a Wendy’s restaurant, dressed in her typical upper middle class fashion, and stood in line next to a white homeless man? Would he benefit from white privilege in his treatment by the restaurant staff then?

Hell no!

If you want to talk about class privilege, I’ll listen. It’s another unfortunate flaw in the human condition that exists in every society and culture. But spare me the idea that every person with white skin gets a leg up in life.

Enjoy Your Meal

Folks, I want to thank all of the anonymous, well-intentioned people who have paid for my meals at restaurants over the years. I know you were just trying to “pay it forward.”

But it’s not necessary.

There are many people in this world who could use a free meal. College kids who are working on a degree. Post grads who are struggling to pay back their student loans. Service men and women who want to save that extra bit of cash for their families. Cops, teachers, nurses and others who keep our community vibrant. Single parents who put food in the mouths of their kids before feeding themselves. The list goes on and on.

Just because I’m blind doesn’t mean that I need your charity. I work for a living and have been doing so for almost three years now. If you could see a photo of me, you’d be well aware that I ain’t starvin’.

Many blind people like myself are gainfully employed and should be the ones who are paying it forward. Some are trying to find work and have not succeeded. Others choose not to work. Yet, how strange that most blind people I know seem to be able to afford those shiny toys that they don’t really need, regardless of their income levels.

Nah, folks. If you want to buy a meal for a stranger, do it for someone who truly needs and deserves it. But, if you really have a compulsory need to spend money on me, send me a box of cigars.

“Splat!”

Friends, there are many things that annoy me as a blind person, but the true Bain of my existence are those well-intentioned people who can’t take no for an answer.

Take this morning, for example. Every day, I make my way from my cozy apartment to Denver Union Station, where I lay over for about 20 minutes before catching a bus to Boulder. I know the station like the back of my hand. I know where I’m going and where I don’t want to go.

This morning, I was killing time inside the station when I heard a loud “bang!” behind me. To my ear, it sounded like the escalator breaking.

Curiosity compelled me to walk over to the “up” escalator to investigate to see whether or not it was operational. As I approached it, some guy starts talking to me in a loud voice.

“Hey man! You’re trying to go down the up escalator! Hey man! You wanna go downstairs?”

“I’m fine, pal. Thank you,” I said.

That should’ve been the end of it, but alas, it was not.

“Hey, the down escalator is over there. You wanna go to your right,” he said as I placed my hand on the railing of the “up” escalator and determined that, yes, it was still working.

“I’m fine, buddy. Thank you,” I said again.

Satisfied that the escalator was working properly, I turned to walk over to stand by the wall, which is my customary place whenever the weather is too cold to allow me to stand outside the station.

“Hey man. The down escalator is to your left. Turn left.”

“BE GONE, MEDDLING INSECT!!!” I bellowed. Then, out loud, I said, “I said I’m fine, pal.”

“I was just tryin’ to help. Jesus!” he muttered as he went downstairs.

You guys know that scene in The Departed when Martin Shean falls off of the roof of a hundred-story building and splatters in a Boston alley? The sound effect is exquisite. I’d like to think that it’s what that fellow would’ve sounded like if I’d grabbed him by the neck and hurled him over the side of the escalator, thereby sending him plummeting to his messy doom in the subterranean bus terminal. Alas, we will never know.

A few minutes later, I was walking to my bus gate when I passed the same fellow.

“You’re doing fine, man. Just keep goin’ straight. Keep goin’. Keep goin’.”

I read once in a C. J. Box novel that, when you rip a man’s ear off, it sounds like the bones of a chicken wing snapping. Alas, we will never know.

To all of my sighted readers, I implore you! It’s fine to offer assistance to a blind person, but if they tell you they are doing fine, just leave it at that. You’ll still get your positive karma for doing your good turn daily.

For all of my blind readers, don’t believe the lies. Violence solves everything.

When I Figure Out the Ballot, Will I be Too Old to Care?

Last Saturday, we were honored to have a guest speaker at our NFB Denver chapter meeting. She was a rep from the League of Women Voters. She seemed like a kindly, gentle soul who was very genuine. She reminded me a lot of my friend Deb, sans the squash soup.

She was there to outline the many different proposed amendments, propositions and other items that will appear in our local ballot in three weeks. This is a tradition that has occurred for many years between the local NFB and the League of Women Voters.

She began her speech by saying, “I was here once before and I made a boo-boo. I used the word, see.”

Immediately, a dozen members tried to console her, But our assurances did not seem to assuage her fears. Several times throughout her presentation, she tripped over the word, “see,” pausing self-consciously to say, “Oops! I did it again.”

I figured that someone with more gravitas would buttonhole her after the meeting and have a friendly, enlightening chat with her.

As it happened, I was leaving and she held the door for me. I thanked her for sacrificing her Saturday, told her I enjoyed her presentation very much and then I asked her, “Has anyone talked to you about the word, see, yet?”

“No,” she said, sounding genuinely confused.

Batter up!

I proceeded to explain to her that most blind people don’t have a problem with words like, “See,” “Look,” or “Sight.” I told her that the word, “See,” doesn’t merely mean to view something with one’s eyes. It also connotes a general perception or understanding of a concept or point. “I see what you’re saying,” or “Look at the facts.”

I further explained that most blind people would notice her awkward attempts to steer around the terms more than they would take note of her use of them as part of a smooth presentation.
I told her that none of us were offended in the least by her use of such words and I wanted to make sure she did not leave thinking she had ruffled any feathers. She seemed to see my point.

Then she said, “Look at the sky. It’s so blue today. Oh gosh! I’m sorry! I did it again!”

*sigh*

Oh well. She has decades of misconceptions to overcome.

So for all of our sighted friends, please don’t police your speech around blind people. Most of us don’t give a damn and the ones who do are the ones who have the real problem.

Stick to the important issues, like banning Halloween costumes from college campuses because they signify cultural appropriation. Next year, I’m gonna go as a sighted person and see if anyone gets offended.

Burned Out

The following is excerpted from my Facebook page. It is self-explanatory, so I will do very little editorializing throughout, save to occasionally expound on the credentials of a certain poster. I will include my original remarks, then selected comments that were left in response to what I said. I will save further editorial remarks until the end.

Original Remarks:

There are some things that blind people just can’t do. I hate to say it and I know it will anger many of my NFB friends, but it does no good when we ignore the hard facts.
One of the things we can’t do is adequately grill meat.
I was working the CCB summer program two years ago and I asked a coworker who was known for his boastful nature if he would show me how to grill burgers.
“Sho thang! Sho thang!” he retorted in his usual pompous, loquacious manner. “I’m the only guy who can show you how to do it without vision.” I hasten to add here that said coworker was a high partial, which means that he had a fair amount of useable vision.
So the appointed time came when he and I stood over the propane grill with a plate of raw burger patties. He showed me how to turn on the gas, light the burners and arrange the burgers on the grill.
He kept going on and on about using the sound of the sizzling meat to know when it was time to flip the burgers. Then he suddenly grabbed the spatula out of my hand saying, “H’oh! Whoa! Ya got a fire under one a dose! Le’me get it.”
I pause in my narrative to add that my esteemed coworker was not wearing sleep shades.
Anyway, he handed me the spatula back and showed me how to flip the rest of the burgers and remove them from the grill when cooked. But what would’ve happened if he had been blind and had not seen the grease fire? I guess the smell of charred meat would’ve eventually clued us into the fact that there was a serious problem.
I do have a friend who is almost totally blind and he does grill, but he doesn’t have any control over the temperature of the meat. It’s a crap shoot as to whether or not you’re going to get your burger rare, medium or well-charred.
Look, I don’t enjoy saying this. There is a long tradition of grilling in my family. My dad is an expert in grilling steaks, burgers, hot dogs, chicken breasts, salmon and many other kinds of meat over charcoal, propane and wood pellets. I want to follow in that tradition, but as Dirty Harry always said, “A man’s got to know his limitations.”
Now that I’m depressed, I guess I’ll go to Burger King and get a flame-broiled Whopper. It’s better than nothing. *sniffle*

Note: The following comments were just some that were left in response and, in my view, represent a fair cross-section of the discussion. I am leaving only their first names out of regard for their anonymity.

From Katy:

So true. *sad puppy sniffles*

From Lauren:

The grill and all the noises it makes stresses me out too much. I feel you.

From Karly:

I am blind and a home management instructor teaching the structured discovery model. I grill, and teach my students how to grill all the time. Yes, I was very intimidated to use the grill at first, but I have learned it really is trial and error and figuring it out with patience and practice. I finlally was able to purchase my first grill earlier this summer and literally have not used my stove since. I use a meat thermometer at times, I also use my spatula and tongs to tell when the meat is done, as well as timing, which is very very important. You can also do what I like to call the tap method, (I dunno if that is a technical term) LOL, but if you tap your finger on the meat, or whatever you are grilling you can tell the texture of the food you are cooking to tell doneness as well. I have caught burgers on fire, and realized it by smell and sound, but I turned the grill off and the flames did subside. If you heat the grill on high before placing your food on it, cleaning the grill first, then turning it down to the required tempature to cook your food, you will not have as many flare-ups because you have already burned off any left over grease. I was taken -a-back by this post, because with proper instruction and lots of practice, I find grilling to be a very enjoyable and delicious way to cook. I have cooked many different types of food, (burgers, steak, tuna, pork chops, corn, portobella mushrooms, onions, squash, eggplant… I could go on and on. I hope that those who are apprehensive about grilling, will find this post helpful.

From Alicia:

While this may seem unrelated on the surface, bear with me. This comment thread reminds me of something that happened at CCB. I came to the Center knowing very well that a blind person could do things like rock climb, white-water raft, sky dive, and all manner of other thrill-seeking activities. I also knew I could learn the daily living skills the Center taught. It was mostly that I’d never had the opportunity to learn, but I knew once the opportunity was there, I could do it. However, when a pair of blind friends said to me, “Let’s go play air hockey,” I looked at them like they were nuts, and said, “No way can a blind person play air hockey.” they showed me differently. It was just kind of interesting that I knew a blind person could do all this other big stuff the sighted world doesn’t think we can, but I never thought we could play air hockey. Now there’s this thread. I’ve known we could do all manner of things, but like Ryan, didn’t think something like grilling burgers was one of them. It’s just curious how sometimes we know we’re capable in the big areas, but don’t think we are in the smaller ones. And then we start sharing tips and tricks, and sometimes figure out we are after all.

From Jeff, who is also an instructor:

Ryan, I do understand that it can be very challenging, but each of us has to resist the impulse to give in to the initial frustration, or the erge to believe that our personal experience is the only possible outcome for anyone that is blind. I have successfully grilled many times over the years, and once in a while, things have not gone as well as I would have liked, but these have become the exception, rather than the rule. in fact it was one of the saddest days of my life when our grill gave up the goast, and we were reduced to using a Forman grill. I am planning to buy a new one, that will run on house gas this time, so I don’t have to mess with those bottles that always manage to run out of fuel at the worst possible time. My first suggestion is to purchase a grill basket. This is perhaps one of the greatest inventions in human history, well there are a few better ones I suppose, but it is up there. This allows you to perfectly place the meat and keep it in place. It also allows you to flip the meat without the slightest difficulty. Now each grill cooks a little different, but as mentioned above, there are only a few things you need to have control over, and timing is the most important one. Once you have the knowledge of how long your grill takes to cook to the degree of doneness you want, you have become the master of your domain! So, hang in there my friend, each of us deserves to have the joy of grilling a burger or steak over a fire, and savering that smoky flavor with our friends.

From Briana:

Honestly Ryan, even sighted, I go based on the springiness of the meat. Rare is a squishy spring all the way to well done which has very little to no spring at all. I can usually tell how cooked it is by how my fork pierces the meat. You always want a clean grill and if you know how your grill cooks (the hottest and coolest parts of the grill ) you can rotate meats as needed. Keep practicing, and ask questions, I have faith you will do well.

From Dave, another sighted person:

Why I was always happy to man the grill at the annual cookout each year!!

From Martin, yet another instructor:

The 3 t’s of cooking for blind people
Time
Temperature
Touch
And taste if needed.

From Ryan O:

Martin, have you done it? How the hell do you touch a burger while it’s grilling without burning your fingers?

From Martin:

Oh, there will be scorched fingertips from time to time, but you have to ask yourself… Is this burger worth it? The answer is inevitably yes!

From Grace:

No, totally not worth it. Plenty of cook outs to go to put on by sighted friends where I can have a burger without the burns.

From Ryan O:

I remember a friend used a burger basket and it was very effective. I’ve never even seen a meat thermometer. Is it accessible?

From Martin:

Yes, Carina actually has one that talks.

In closing, let me say that I fell into a trap that I have avoided for years. About 15 years ago, I chose to discard my electric razor and start shaving with a safety razor. I was nervous about cuts and nicks, but now, I would never go back to the electric model.

About 10 years ago, I took up smoking cigars as a full time vice. Some sighted and blind friends expressed skepticism that I would be able to light the cigar without burning holes in my clothing or setting my apartment on fire. A decade later and I can boast of a few holes in clothing, but no fires.

My new goal is to grill myself and a friend or two a burger before the summer is over. I will let you know how it turns out.

We never stop learning.

Roll On, God’s Will

I’ve tried to hold my tongue on this because I haven’t read the book or seen the movie, but the plot is spoiled out there, so let me address some of the hysteria surrounding “Me Before You,” from the disabled community.

For those of you who are guilty of being, “Ablest,” and may not recognize the reference, here’s a friendly nudge. “Me Before You,” was a romance novel written by Jojo Moyes, which has now been adapted into a movie. The story takes place in merry old England and follows an active rich guy (Will) who is paralyzed in a motorcycle accident. A young girl (Louisa) who is a bit of a dim bulb takes a job as his caretaker. Long story short…Will encourages Louisa to become more educated and learn more about the world. She tries to convince him that he can still live a full life, even though he’s confined to a wheelchair. After six months, he admits that he’s had a better life than he has ever known, but flies off to Switzerland, where a doctor helps him drift off into the big sleep. But he leaves Louisa a nice nest egg so she can continue her education.

First, this is not an anti-disability movie. It is a pro-right to die movie, just as “Million Dollar Baby,” was. Where was the outrage over that? Could it be that Clint Eastwood just makes euthanasia look much more sexy? For all of you disabled leftists out there who support individual choice in the right to die arena, congratulations. You got what you wanted. How do you like it?

Sidebar: Get ready for the time (it isn’t too far away) when the abortion of disabled fetuses becomes much more common. Same concept… Other end of the spectrum. But it’s about personal choice so it’s all good, right?

Second, many so-called disabled activists are outraged because Hollywood depicts other minorities in a favorable light, while still looking down on the disabled. People, are you really surprised that we are at the bottom of the pecking order? The game of identity politics burst onto the scene in the 1960s. It was elevated to an art form in the 1990s. Why do you suppose the disabled haven’t gotten very far in the entertainment arena? Think hard. This is not a rhetorical question.

Third, many disabled bloggers (who often traffic in sanctimony) trumpet The notion that Jojo Moyes had no business writing this novel in the first place. One blogger says, “This wasn’t her story to tell.” This is a spurious argument that smacks of more than a little arrogant condescension. Larry McMurtry wasn’t alive in the 19th century. Does that mean he should’ve foregone the writing of Lonesome Dove? Dennis Lehane has written several novels dealing with racism. Should we burn his novels and lambaste his credibility because he’s white? Of course not! You can argue that Moyes’ novel was poorly researched or poorly written, but in a free society, you don’t get to decide who should and shouldn’t write what.

Finally, you know what Internet petitions are good for? Nothing! If I was really feeling generous, I could print one out with all 56,000 signatures, wipe my bum with it, crumple it into a filth-smeared wad and leave it in the compost bucket at work as a token for my greenie-weenie coworkers. One petition author whines, “Hollywood! Why do you want me dead?” Another calls this movie, “a disability snuff film.”

Folks, a snuff film is a movie in which someone is actually murdered for the purpose of exploitation. Nobody died in this movie. I know it’s common to employ hyperbole to garner attention, but for god’s sake, at least be accurate!

Ok, I’m done. Rant over. I’ve worked out all my stress, as well as other things while composing this on the toilet. Can somebody grab me that petition from Change.org out of the printing tray? I just ran out of toilet paper.

P.S.: As I stated at the beginning of this entry, I’ve not read the book or seen the movie. I have no intention of doing so. I have a lot of Hardy Boys books to get to before I’ll get around to reading a romance novel. I also don’t know anything about the writing abilities of Jojo Moyes. That said, irony often escapes the masses and subtlety is often drowned out by the megaphone of social media.

That said, some disabilities are involuntary and some are self-imposed. That is very likely the over-arching theme of the novel, if not the movie. Will chooses to allow his disability to rule his life and ultimately, his death, but he gives Luisa the wisdom and the tools to make a different choice for herself. Life is about choices, no?

I originally wrote this rant on Facebook. No one shared it; not even Evaney From Miami. I did get called, “A confrontational dick,” by Kevin; a guy who doesn’t even follow me. Thanks, Kev. Love your passion. You must be a Trump supporter.

Yeah…Trump. There’s a real handicap right there. Who am I to judge Will Traynor? If The Donald wins in November, maybe I’ll fly off to Switzerland for a consultation with Dignitas.

Can You *See* What I’m Saying?

It is not my intention to turn this into another blog by a blind guy. That is to say, I don’t want my disability to become the central focus of my life and, by reflection, these writings. A lot of blind bloggers do that. Their posts, their social media expressions, their lives, are all wrapped up in their daily existence as a blind person. They write about technology, Braille, guide dogs, dating, accessibility, canes, politics…all from the perspective of someone who is disabled.

I don’t want to do that. My blindness represents only one facet of myself. We can debate how significant a facet (sometimes I vacillate on the question), but it’s only one part of a much greater whole.

That being said, I don’t want to ignore the issue altogether. I seriously considered it when I first created this blog. I thought about focusing solely on politics, entertainment and occasionally, my personal feelings, all the while ignoring the fact that I am blind. The omission of the discussion, a discussion that is central in the lives of other blind people, would, in and of itself, be a statement.

My friend Art changed my mind. Art has, to my knowledge, never met a blind person. Art has many questions and there are many things he doesn’t know. Why should I deny him the chance to become enlightened? Moreover, why am I above explaining my situation to another person who is willing to learn? Yes, I sometimes grow weary of being saddled with the role of a reluctant educator. I didn’t ask for it. I don’t want it. But I’ve got it.

Here’s an example of what I’m talking about.

I was having a conversation with an intern at work yesterday and she claimed that we have an anti sighted bias here in the office. She said this because my boss, the founder of our company, is also blind. She was trying to explain a point about technology to him during a meeting and he didn’t seem to get it. Then I came in and, according to the intern, I explained the very same point to him and he agreed with it. In her mind, this constitutes an anti sighted bias.

Anyone reading this who is blind will scoff aloud. Any sighted person reading this may very well scratch their head and go, “Hmmm. I never thought about it.” And why should they? Blind people are such a statistically insignificant number in society compared to other “minorities,” that we don’t come up on the collective radar of the sighted. We as blind people get so comfortable living in our own skins and our own culture that we forget this very obvious fact. In the grand scheme of things, we are an infinitesimal number.

Let us talk then of biases.

The point my boss was asking about concerned technology. As the operations manager, my workspace is located in the control room; an area populated by computers, Behringer Boxes, speakers, KVM switches, a sound board, routers, a Perkins Braillewriter, breakout boxes, a tabletop microphone, telephones, an ATA Box, my Darth Vader’s head coffee mug, more computers and two cabinets full of dusty equipment circa 1990. We are a radio reading service for the blind who’s founder has a progressive view of the employment of blind people. To that end, our broadcast systems are all geared to be accessible with screen-reading software. Our websites are set up in a visually simplified format so as to be compatible with the same kinds of text-to-speech software. Blind people are well aware of programs such as JAWS, Voice-Over, the KNFB Reader, The Seeing Eye, Zoomtext and other programs that make the printed word accessible.

Every day, we try to discover ways to make our services more available to our audience, thus increasing listenership and bringing in new members. The easier we make it for blind people to listen, the more successful we are in our mission. There is no reason for a sighted intern who, up until she came to work here, probably never got to know a blind person in depth, should be aware of things like Speakup and Double Talk. David, my boss, is well aware of it, because he lives the life of a blind person every day. He is also well aware that I am blind and I therefore have an inherent knowledge of the products and methodology that can best be applied to the situation.

When the intern voiced her concerns to me, I told her that, in the realm of technology, the boss may very well have a bias toward my opinion as a blind person. But this is not born of contempt or dismissal of her merely because she has sight. It’s a matter of being knowledgeable on a particular issue that is gleaned from life experiences.

Though my boss does defer to my blind volunteer coworker and myself for advice on tech, we’re not the only ones. John is another volunteer who works in the tech area, but he is sighted. I don’t consider him to be smarter or dumber than the rest of us. He merely looks at a problem from a different angle. Moreover, the vast majority of the staff here at my workplace are fully sighted. The boss defers to their judgment when it is appropriate. He doesn’t ask for my opinion about grant writing or Spanish outreach any more than he would ask Bethany, our listener coordinator, about repairing a breeched firewall.

My coworker Curtis (nicknamed, The Evil Genius), takes a different view. He says, “Sighted people have been demonstrating a bias toward the blind for hundreds of thousands of years. We ought to have it the other way around.” You can probably surmise that Curtis is blind. He comes from a different generation when discrimination against the blind was more overt and political correctness was as fanciful as a Ray Bradbury novel.

It is sorely tempting to think this way. I’ve heard other minorities express this view. They did it to us, so let’s turn around and stick it to them. By that logic, women would castrate men, blacks would enslave whites, fat people would beat up skinny people and gay people would illegalize every straight marriage in America.

What do we want to accomplish by the ‘payback’s a bitch’ defense? The stark reality is that we live in a sighted world. If we adopted Curtis’s view and instituted an overt bias against sighted people here at work, what would it gain us? The answer is…nothing!!! I could go out tomorrow, find a random sighted person and gouge out his eyes with an ice pick. After he recovered from the physical trauma, he would have a lot more empathy for my situation. Aside from that, all I would achieve at the end of said venture is a jail term and a regular rectal dilation courtesy of my cellmate.

As angry as I get at the random sighted person who thinks it’s acceptable to put his hands on me without my permission; as frustrated as I get at sighted people who talk around me like I’m not there, or who condescend to me as if I’m a child or a pet; as tired as I get of being told that I can’t be accommodated because of a lack of proper equipment, I still believe that an informative dialogue with sighted people is the best means of striving toward equality. I wish more “minorities,” would take this view and relinquish the grievance game for a more good-willed, substantive approach to relations.

If you are able to read between the lines, you’ve probably already figured some things out about the intern. She is…eccentric. But then, I’m a Republican. I’m sure she feels the same way about me. The difference is that I am paid staff and she’s just a lowly intern. John, if you’re reading this, go tell her that for me, would ya?