No Loss of Sight For the Blind

As I remember my mother,

I hope you will take a stroll

with me, down Memory Lane.

My mother lost her eyesight,

due to diabetes, when she

was 39. There went her

career at Holloman Air Force

Base, her top secret

clearance, her future.

She was forced to re-think

and re-plan everything. As

Chairman of the Democrat

party for New Mexico, she

was active in politics, work,

our schools, community

and home.

I was 13 when she went lost her sight, and took over the cooking, cleaning, and many sleepless nights as mother got her nights and days mixed up. It was a hard time; we fell into a routine of caring for her, much to her dismay.

For Mom, she was surrounded by fear and change. She soon demanded that all lights be on in rooms. She could not see them, but would ask "Marisue, is the light on?"

"Yes Mom, it's on." I would choke back the tears. She grieved her way; we let it be.

I learned to turn all things seen, into words, so you can blame those years for my becoming such a "gabber." I grew accustomed to softly talking her into stores, down sidewalks, into clinics, and down the street to the neighbors.

"The path is clear, Mom. Five more steps you'll need to turn left."

"Step down, Mom."

"There's a car coming." "There's a person on your left." "The dress is blue with a white collar." "The sandwich is at 6:00 on your plate, your chips are at 3:00."

"The sky is blue with puffy clouds. No, they're not storm clouds Mom, they're "designer" clouds." Never before afraid of anything, she had new fear of rain storms, darkness, being alone. The fears grew everyday, everyday bore new ones.

I read the newspaper each morning and evening out loud, and she continued to type her letters to the editor about government woes on her now old Royal typewriter. One night, I heard the clickety clack of the keys well after midnight. I stumbled into the family room. No lights were on, and that was very unusual. "Mom!" I exclaimed. "Why are you sitting alone in the dark, typing?"

"Hm?" she replied. "Well, honey, I can't help it if you're handicapped and can't see in the dark."

I knew we had made some progress. When I think of my mother, I think of many things. Mainly, I think of a hard life, lived with love.

During her first year or so of blindness, we lived in New Mexico. She was soon reffered to specialists near Los Angeles, California. For the purpose of this story, I'll skip ahead to our move to California. After much grief and attempt to save her sight, Mom slid with a crash into the acceptance stage of grief. And, I do mean "crash." But, more about that later as well.

I have many stories of Mom in the Guide Dog school in San Rafel, Calif. Some told to us by her trainer, some told to us by Mom when she returned, and some told to us at Guide Dogs Backyard BarBQ's we had at our home after she graduated. Why? You ask. =) Why have 20+ students come there with all their Guide Dogs?

What a sight it was! Well, ahem, Mom staged a "dog in" at a local coffee shop after they kicked her out because of coming in with her guide dog.

Oops Their bad. It was state law that they could stay. But, I digress. That is a story, but it's not THIS story.

In 1965 (or 1966, but I believe it was 1965) shortly after Mom had met "acceptance," she changed with the speed of light. Immediately, she took action. For me, life resembled the Twilight Zone. One day we were lost in grief management, and the next day we woke up in a vacuum of energy, with Mom wanting to live her life as a blind person.

She and my dad began their research for help. She did not want to take state aid and finally found Guide Dog School for the Blind in San Rafel, California. They were 100% privately funded and did not charge the blind person for the dog, nor for the training with their Guide Dog.

Highly bred Laboradors (both Black and Chocolate), Golden Retrievers, and then some German Shepard (not presently used) dogs were trained for the first year of their life in a 4H home, by a young child who could teach the dog for that year to sit, stay, come, and fetch. Only those four commands. The school encouraged socialization of the dog and wanted them to grow up happy and healthy.

They closely monitored the home to make sure the animal was loved, well fed, and socialized. When the dog was 1 year old, the school took the dog and entered them into training. Later, at the blind person's graduation from the Guide Dog School, (they train with the dog for about 4 - 6 weeks) the child from 4H would come to the school and make the "presentation" of the dog to the blind person. It was always a heart-wrenching but joyous occasion.

Mom made the decision to enroll and train for her four-legged eyes. (I will tell you all about the school and what she went through another time.)

At the school, she met another student by the name of "Hap." He was a grumpy old soul, and mom thought his nickname "Hap" - short for happy - was probably a satirical one.

Mom was totally blind, but some of the students were legally blind, meaning they saw just enough to confuse them. Those students had to wear black out glasses so that they would let the dog do their work, instead of jerking at shadows and pulling back on the dog.

People handle grief in all kinds of ways, some staying in a certain stage too long. Hap was sarcastic and bitter. His attitude chased others away. They had enough to deal with, without receiving his venom. Well, you could sympathize. However, the school was about bringing you to a level of independence -- yet, "dependence" on the dog. It was not easy to trust a dog to lead you around.

For Hap, he struggled more than some and griped loudly.

Mom, because she was beautiful, vibrant, intelligent, and spirited, was chosen to be the schools public relations person and photo model. It was the Guide Dog's 25th anniversary. So, not only did mom have a lot to learn, she was followed by a photographer.

Did she get a lot of attention walking down China Town in a black, hour-glass silky, hip-fitting sheath, with her shiny black laborador and the photographer snapping shots as she walked? YOU BET she did. One lady stopped her one morning and said briefly "Lady, you've got a lot of pizazz!"

Mom loved the attention; it helped her get through many tough times. I can picture her swingin,' ever so slightly, those curvy but slim hips as she clicked her heels down the sidewalk. Her trainer said Bonny (the guide dog) prissed right along beside her. They had an attitude and heads turned!

Mom struggled to learn to put her make up on (which she wouldn't have been caught dead without) each day. She wore the basics: light powder, light eye shadow, masacara, a touch of blush, and the always present but not really thick red lipstick.

You remember the 60's.

When the students ate in the school's cafeteria, they sat at picnic style tables, with the dogs going under the table at their master's feet. As it "happened" one day, mom was a bit late to dinner and ended up taking the last seat available, right across from Hap. Go figure. No one took that chair very eagerly!!

As was their custom, they always identified themselves as they sat down, and when mom heard Hap say his name, she flinched inwardly.

During dinner, the legally blind students did not have to wear their black out glasses. Hap spent a few minutes studying mom's face, and said "Well, Mrs. Bond. I see you have your make up on tonight. I just wonder if you are as blind as you say you are."

Well, the room took a collective gasp. Their habit was to say uplifting things to each other, never cutting the other down. But, Hap had never grasped that concept.

Mom, pausing for effect, to take advantage of the silence said "Why, Hap, didn't you know? I use a Braille Mirror."

The room broke into loud laughter. For the duration of the training, as the students would come across difficult moments, they would say something like "Ok, I guess we'll just have to get out the Braille Mirror for this one."

Mom was sassy. She always gave people the benefit of the doubt, but if she had to, she could take care of herself.

She was a survivor...and sassed her way through the next 5 years with No Loss of Sight. That will be the title of my stories about my mother that I am working on..."No Loss Of Sight."

Fellow Hubbers, you'll be the first to read them!!

Mom and Bonny were inseparable for the next 5 years and when Mom passed away, Bonny was 'retired' by the school to us for the rest of her life.

The day of mom's funeral, Mom and Bonny's trainer flew in to attend, and then officially presented the dog to us. She lived to be 14.

Though blind for the rest of her life, mom had no loss of sight.

Note: Lessons learned: patience, fortitiude, positive thinking, setting a good example, sacrifice, working for progress, success was measured in inches, and that sometimes you have to get mad.