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Walking With a Blind Cane
Living with vision impairment involves constant learning and adaptation, and my recent experiences have truly highlighted this journey. Participating in orientation and mobility training with a specialist from Columbia was not just an educational endeavor, but a life-affirming one. The specialist displayed a remarkable combination of professional expertise and compassionate support that has empowered me in ways I hadn’t imagined possible.
Navigating the world without full sight is fraught with potential hazards. While the technical jargon is vast, the fundamental goal remains straightforward: avoid accidents, whether with vehicles, bicycles, or obstacles on the path. Mastery of the blind cane is crucial in this respect. The various tips that adorn the cane—a marvel of simple design—are surprisingly communicative, furnishing tactile feedback about the ground underfoot and the obstacles flanking the path.
A mundane commute can be a gauntlet for those with visual impairments. My daily journey involves a half-mile trek along a sidewalk that is not always in the best of repair. Here, the cane serves as an invaluable ally, probing the terrain for perils and helping me maintain a straight course. Transitioning from sidewalk to road signifies an escalation in risk, and it is here that a careful pace and keen hearing become my guardians against the dangers that quiet electric cars, like a Tesla, might present.
The complicated intersections are a particular concern. One such crossing I regularly navigate requires traversing four lanes of traffic, set at an unusual angle, lacking the guidance of audible pedestrian signals. Here, the life-saving virtues of patience and acute listening are never more apparent. The near-silent approach of electric vehicles heightens the peril, making it essential to rely upon one’s auditory senses to a degree that those with vision might find hard to fathom.
The message I wish to impart to drivers is one of vigilance and empathy. Keep watch for those of us with canes; these are not mere accessories but vital tools signaling the presence of a visually impaired or blind person navigating the byways and thoroughfares you share. I brandish my cane not just for personal navigation and safety but also as a clear signal to you, the driver, alerting you to my presence and my needs. This cane is for depth perception when negotiating rough terrain and a visible beacon to declare my visual limitations to the surrounding traffic.
Our roads, our paths, they are shared spaces. As participants in this communal realm, we bear a collective responsibility to ensure safety for all members, especially those who confront these spaces without the benefit of sight. The kindness drivers display in being mindful of visually impaired pedestrians like myself makes an indelible difference; it makes these journeys less daunting and the world a little more accessible, one thoughtful act at a time.
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Runnin’
I’ve been out for my second run of the day. Hang on, let me catch my breath…
The crystalline ice and snow was still glistening this morning, as I set out on a sunrise run. I love to run and walk. I can’t run as far as I used to be able to, but I still enjoy the challenge of gasping for air. I do my greatest thinking and problem solving, when I’m walking.
I realised something that a friend told me the other day was dead on accurate. You can’t make everyone happy. I went to college the first time for several reasons, but mainly because I was sick of being labelled the dumb hill billy. I finished that and was then the high tech lanky redneck. I still wasn’t good enough, so I went back to college and studied Criminal Justice.
I graduated the top of my class. I worked out a LOT. I worked in the field for several years and excelled at every challenge I was given. Then, I was labelled a dumb flat foot even though I knew more about the law and history than some of my professors and had an above average tested IQ. I still wasn’t good enough.
I spent time with the rich and powerful, and I was back to being a hill-billy. I begrudgingly played that role, but there comes a point when you have to be comfortable within yourself. I’ve been running for years, running from myself. I’m not rich, but I am better than the rich in many ways. My grandfather always said to be righteous in my indignation.
I am still learning. Life is full of lessons. People will try to put you in a box. Don’t let them. Be yourself. You can’t make everyone happy. I still try to impress every freaking day, but that is just part of who I am. 🙂
Be yourself. People that can’t appreciate that don’t deserve to be around you.