I used to be my father's 'Seeing Eye card son' in poker
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- Date: Mon, 29 Oct 2007 22:27:41 -0400
Dubuque Telegraph Herald, IA, USA
Monday, October 29, 2007
I used to be my father's 'Seeing Eye card son' in poker
By CRAIG D. REBER TH staff writer
Vision-impaired not helpless, deserve break
Seeing two law officials walk along Asbury Road while blindfolded and clutching
white canes rekindled memories.
Dubuque Assistant Police Chief Terry Tobin and Dubuque County Sheriff's
Department Capt. Dan Chapman volunteered as part of White Cane Safety Day.
Cathy Sauser, low-vision coordinator for the sponsoring
Tri-State Independent Blind Society, said the event's primary purpose is to
publicize how tough it is for the blind to cross streets -- or travel anywhere,
for that matter -- and what those white canes mean.
To me, Sauser was preaching to the choir. My late father, Darwin, was blind.
You never would have known it, though. Until his death in September, he was
always upbeat -- never down about his blindness. As a teen in the late 1930s,
he lost an eye in a sporting accident. Vision in one eye didn't prevent him
from serving honorably during World War II in the Army Air Corps. (His draft
board originally classified him "4F," but that's another story.)
After the war, he went on to a successful career in retail management. Then, in
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the late 1970s, his other eye failed.
Before his world went totally dark, he had tunnel vision which prevented him
operating a motor vehicle. My mother, Deloris, did the driving in the family.
After I got my driver's license in 1968, I frequently served as my father's
personal driver.
Dad and I drove to Utah for a vacation in the summer of 1984, when he was
totally blind. It was the first time I had ever served as his "eyes" on a long
trip, describing in detail everything. Well, not quite the first time as his
"eyes." My father loved to play poker, and as his sight worsened, I often
served as his "eyes" in the numerous games. No one minded. I was called Dar's
"Seeing Eye card son."
As an adult, I never took my sight for granted. How about enjoying a steak
dinner? Sighted people can cut their steak or baked potato into pieces. Put on
a blindfold and try eating a steak dinner.
After my mother died in December 2003, Dar chose to stay in the apartment they
shared. He managed with very little assistance. Dar once was an avid reader.
When I stopped by, I always knew he was home because I could hear the
indispensable "talking books" that he listened to in his bedroom. Radios were
well-received Christmas and birthday gifts. Dar loved listening to sports,
especially baseball and football. It was his link to the world, besides the
day-to-day conversations with people at the apartment building or his
thrice-weekly trips to Tri-State Dialysis.
Something else sighted people take for granted is buying clothing. I'd be his
clothes coordinator, as well as critic, on what the shirts/slacks colors were
and if they matched.
Does anybody know what time it is? I'd never heard of a talking watch before my
dad wore one. When you're blind, you don't need a traditional clock. But, to be
up in time to catch the morning bus for his trip to dialysis, dad needed a
watch. He would push a button and a voice would announce the time. I always
ensured his watch was programmed to reflect the changes between Standard and
Daylight Saving times.
The vision-impaired aren't helpless. But they live in a different world. And I
know and appreciate the many challenges they face daily. If you're a motorist,
be aware that there are people, pedestrians with white canes, who need you to
be their "eyes." When driving, be patient, apply the make-up in your home and
avoid using the cell phone. Sight-impaired people have enough hassles. They
don't need to worry about distracted motorists.
Shirley Conrad, Dar's close friend who is sight-impaired and legally blind,
told me about the time she was crossing Kennedy Road at Asbury Road. She was
standing on the little island, holding her white cane, when a driver climbed
out of his truck and helped her across. He said, "I didn't want to see you get
killed."
I wish more people shared his sentiments.
Reber, a reporter, has been a Telegraph Herald journalist since 1988. His
e-mail address is creber@xxxxxxxxxxx
http://www.thonline.com/article.cfm?id=178449
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