The Braille Monitor January, 2001 Edition
A Whole New World: The NFB
National Convention
by
Carrie Gilmer
From
the Editor: Experienced Federationists are always telling new people that
they should get to the National Convention if at all possible. Dr. Jernigan
wrote that advice to me in 1974 just after I had had my first contact with
NFB literature and was eager to establish a new chapter in my area. I had
a sneaking suspicion that he was right, but I had three small children, including
a young infant, and I didn't seriously consider getting myself to that summer's
convention in Chicago. I now regret that I missed that convention, but when
I showed up the next year, I immediately understood what he had been trying
to tell me.
Sometimes the most effective voices in
making such recommendations are those who have just experienced their first
convention. Carrie Gilmer is the mother of a blind son. The two of them
attended the 2000 convention, and life will never be quite the same again. She
recounted her experiences in the Summer, 2000, issue of the Minnesota
Bulletin, the publication of the NFB of Minnesota. If you have never been
to an NFB convention, read what she has to say and see if it persuades you to
join us in 2001.
About four years ago I received a
phone call from my youngest child's eye doctor. "Your son is legally
blind," he said. "We think Jordan has a retinal disease, and there is
nothing I can do." In shock I asked some what‑do‑you‑mean
questions which he hurriedly answered. He told me he would inform State
Services for the Blind and then more or less wished us luck. I hung up the
phone realizing our lives had just changed forever. What did I know about
blindness besides Helen Keller, bead stringing, and Ray Charles? Not much. I
proceeded to cry nonstop for about three weeks.
We had just moved, and after my long
cry I went back to the task of unpacking. In one box I found a little book my
grandmother had given me. It was written by blind people. I read it and soaked
it up. I read about blind lawyers, scientists, parents, teachers--people living
normal, happy, fulfilled lives. It gave me hope that our new road in life could
be as bright as the old one had looked. I told myself I should learn more about
this organization. But I got busy with the here‑and‑now.
Jordan was six months away from
kindergarten--the perfect age to learn multiple languages, so we decided he
should learn Braille alongside print from the beginning. The school agreed.
Soon we had a visit from our SSB [State Services for the Blind] counselor, Curt
Johnson. He stressed Braille also. Our doctor had recommended low‑vision
devices, and Curt helped us out with that as well as giving us good advice on
how to talk about blindness with Jordan.
For nearly three years we went forward,
thinking we knew what we were doing and had Jordan's needs covered. But little
leaks in the boat started occurring. We had Braille teachers with different
philosophies, P.E. teachers who said he did as well as his sighted peers one
week and then sidelined him for safety reasons the next. He didn't run, and he
hated balls. Legally blind? Try and explain legal to a seven‑year‑old.
Then one day Jordan and I were lying on the
living room floor. "Are blind people happy?" he blurted out. I
realized that we had a long way to go and that we had better start getting
there quickly. I recalled the little books I had read and contacted the NFB of
Minnesota. Judy Sanders quickly contacted me. She was kind and helpful and even
offered to come to Jordan's school the next week. She stressed the importance
of role modeling for Jordan. She also told me that I could learn information in
one week at the NFB National Convention that might otherwise take me years to
accumulate.
Jordan and I decided to go. Upon
checking into the hotel we noticed right away that we were surrounded by
hundreds of blind people. There were so many that the perspective changed from
noticing who was blind to noticing who wasn't. That experience lasted all week
and was one of the greatest for Jordan. All at once he saw hundreds of people‑‑all
colors, ages, shapes, and sizes‑‑traveling, eating, reading,
dancing, writing, walking, laughing. And all of them blind to one degree or
another. He learned‑‑low‑vision, partial, impaired, legally‑‑it's
okay just to say blind, no explanation necessary.
Jordan used a cane on a scavenger hunt
while blindfolded and then kept the cane as a gift. He was told the cane was
his third eye on the ground. It would look down so that he could look up. He
could stand up straight and walk proudly‑‑not fearfully.
"Cool!" he said. He found out for himself that blindness doesn't have
to be the biggest deal in his life.
I learned all this too plus parenting
tips, facts and myths about blindness, what a slate and stylus are, the importance
of normal expectations, and the need to quit guiding his eyes with my hands.
I learned how to make the most of the vision he has now in conjunction with
blind techniques when vision fails or is unreliable. We both made lifelong
friends. Judy Sanders was right; it would have taken years to accumulate what
we received in one week in Atlanta. Biggest convention tip: bring an extra
suitcase for all the freebies from the sales vendors! For us, since that convention,
it really is a whole new world.