A sunny, seductively warm southern California day. The summer I was 21. Staying at my parents' house, attending summer school at Cal State, poised to enter my senior year in college. a magical summer, as they say, watching with fascination as the train of my life rapidly picked up speed and headed, who knows where? If you can not relate, think back on the summer in which you were 21.
Instead of basking in the sun outside, I prepared to meet my guest, and an important interview. I had applied to the California Council of the blind for a small scholarship, and if the visit went well, I would get a little help with private college tuition.
The Council rep soon arrived: Mr. Bob Acosta, his German Shepherd, and his driver. We passed a very pleasant hour, Bob inquiring about my college and career goals, vision loss story, how I was faring as a lone blind young woman on campus. And did I know anything about the work of the California Council? He was engaged, very professional, treating me like the competent adult I hoped I was. Or would soon be.
Bob encouraged me in my plans to apply to graduate school in social work, including obtaining the field and volunteer experience that year, which would increase the chances of being accepted into grad school. Again, in a professional manner, he furnished some answers to questions I burned to ask him, but was unsure as to whether I should:
Was he blind or partially sighted? What kind of work did he do? Did he in fact have a regular job? How did he manage his life as a fully independent visually impaired adult? At that point in time, I had not been offered, or exposed to training in the skills of blindness, other than the mobility training I had to fight for even to get.
Bob was married, with a young son, lived in his own condo, worked at that juncture for several years, as a high school history teacher. Teaching sighted kids! Wow! He didn't work in a blindness-related job! He hired some help to make things easier: part time readers, and drivers for occasions such as meeting me for this interview. And on top of all that, he was active in the council. Bob related some of the ways in which membership and participation in the California Council of the Blind had made a huge, positive difference in his life, and in the lives of many blind friends. Space doesn't permit me to enumerate the benefits Bob described, but I eagerly soaked up every word. There was no pressure to join, but Bob invited me to attend the next statewide convention, upcoming across town, and meet other successful blind adults from all walks of life, which I did, and was there handed my scholarship.
Sounds like a pretty sweet, but tame story, right? Probably the real story was what was silently going on in my junior head as we talked that day, And what our conversation eventually led to. I saw, likely for the first time, that it was okay to be totally blind, and that there was a real opportunity for me to develop into a full-fledged, independent, capable working adult. And more than that, it was perfectly respectable to be totally blind, in that good old "sighted world" that constantly reminded me that everyone else possessed something that I did not, and never would have.
We don't have time for my back story here: born prematurely, resulting in Retinopathy of Prematurity, limited low vision until age 14, unexpectedly losing all of my sight as a high school freshman. The only blind kid in my regular school since seventh grade, I was always trying to blend in, fit in. My parents were good, hard working people who did many things to help my sighted brother and me. Yet from my youngest years until that day I talked with Bob Acosta, the subtle messages I got regarding my blindness were negative. I was a nice person, but it really wasn't acceptable not seeing well, let alone at all. As the only person with vision loss in all of my circles, I had to keep up a brave front, work extra hard for everything, try so hard to be like my teenage peers. And I often felt that I failed at so much of that. I don't mean to sound whiny, but I couldn't help worrying about what lay ahead, as the only blind adult in my world.
I believe it is obvious as to why meeting a person like Bob that day was so very encouraging. And to hear that there were numerous others, people of all kinds and interests, who functioned well as blind adults, and especially how they came together frequently, organized, advocated for themselves in arenas such as equal employment, access to housing and civic opportunities, used alternate reading and writing formats, practiced countless other ways to compensate for lack of eyesight in family life, social activities, and recreation, as well as on the job.
That single visit was the start of my journey to an optimistic outlook on the potential for a meaningful, productive future. I was further motivated to get the best education and skills training I could, and be open to engaging well with blind and sighted people, and becoming the best me I could become!
