THE BRAILLE MONITOR Vol. 43, No. 7 July, 2000 Barbara Pierce, Editor Published in inkprint, in Braille, and on cassette by THE NATIONAL FEDERATION OF THE BLIND MARC MAURER, PRESIDENT National Office 1800 Johnson Street Baltimore, Maryland 21230 NFB Net BBS: http://www.nfbnet.org Web Page address: http://www.nfb.org Letters to the President, address changes, subscription requests, orders for NFB literature, articles for the Monitor, and letters to the Editor should be sent to the National Office. Monitor subscriptions cost the Federation about twenty-five dollars per year. Members are invited, and non-members are requested, to cover the subscription cost. Donations should be made payable to National Federation of the Blind and sent to: National Federation of the Blind 1800 Johnson Street Baltimore, Maryland 21230 THE NATIONAL FEDERATION OF THE BLIND IS NOT AN ORGANIZATION SPEAKING FOR THE BLIND--IT IS THE BLIND SPEAKING FOR THEMSELVES ISSN 0006-8829 Vol. 43, No. 7, July, 2000 Contents NFB Sues for ATM Access It's a New Day at BESB by Donna Balaski, M.D. Thanks, But No Thanks by Jim Marks DSS Offices and the Age-old Lure of Custodialism: Are We Going Back? by Peggy Elliott Informed Choice and the Empowerment Circle by James H. Omvig A Visit to Kenya, East Africa by Ed Cohen First Down and the Field! by Stephen O. Benson Another Federationist at Work: Gail Bryant Honored The White Cane by Guy M. Masters This Is the Way We Wash Our Clothes by Barbara Pierce Blindness Can't Stop Skydivers by Mike Patty Of Milk Cartons and Belief by Noel Nightingale You Can Do It, Too! Capital Campaigning Is Great Fun by Jim and Sharon Omvig Capital Campaign Pledge Form Recipes Monitor Miniatures Copyright (c) 2000 National Federation of the Blind [PHOTO/CAPTION 1a: Guests listen attentively to after-breakfast remarks at a Community Partnership gathering in the NFB's dining room.] On May 11 this year 150 Baltimore business people attended a Community Partnership Board breakfast in the fourth-floor dining room at the National Center for the Blind. They listened to remarks by tennis star Pam Shriver and had a chance to become acquainted with the National Federation of the Blind. Following breakfast, the group briefly toured the International Braille and Technology Center for the Blind on the Center's second floor. [PHOTO/CAPTION 1b: Department of Technology Director Curtis Chong demonstrates a refreshable Braille display to a group of Baltimore business people gathered around him in the International Braille and Technology Center.] [Photo/Caption 2: Curtis Chong uses earphones to access one of the Royal Bank of Canada's talking ATMs.] NFB Sues for ATM Access From the Editor: At 1:00 p.m. on Wednesday, May 24, 2000, President Maurer, Technology Department Director Curtis Chong, and NFB attorneys Daniel Goldstein and Paul Kay met members of the press at the National Press Club in Washington, D.C., to announce that the NFB, its D.C. affiliate, the Disability Rights Council of Greater Washington, and several blind individuals were filing suit against Chevy Chase Bank, Rite Aid Corp., and Diebold over ATM accessibility. The NFB had been discussing and planning such a move for a number of months. Last fall Chong opened a checking account at the Royal Bank of Canada and then traveled to Toronto to be video-taped independently conducting financial business using one of the bank's talking automatic teller machines (ATMs). According to Rob Evans, Director of Self Services for NCR, a Diebold competitor in the ATM-development and production field, it is not yet possible for every kind of ATM transaction to be voiced by audio software, but most can be. Mr. Chong, the Director of Technology for the National Federation of the Blind, contradicted Mr. Evans's statement, saying that it is most definitely possible to articulate all kinds of ATM transactions, especially if the designers of these transactions make plans to do so early on. Chevy Chase Bank's 800 ATMs in the Maryland and Virginia suburbs of Washington and in tourist attractions and other public places in the nation's capital are inaccessible to everyone who cannot read the ATMs' tiny computer screens. In addition, despite the availability of truly accessible ATMs today, in fulfillment of an agreement with Rite Aid, Diebold has chosen to place inaccessible models of its ATMs in Rite Aid drugstores. The ADA mandates that instructions and all information for use in ATMs be made accessible to and independently usable by blind people. But the law's language is far from specific. As a result Diebold argues that its current access arrangements are a sufficient accommodation. The NFB maintains that a static set of Braille key labels cannot provide access to complex financial activity for which sighted users depend upon a video display to conduct their ATM business. As always in a lawsuit, the press conference was only the first step in a long process that will unfold in the coming months, perhaps years. Here is the press release the NFB circulated. It is followed by an article that appeared late that same afternoon: For Immediate Release NATIONAL FEDERATION OF THE BLIND SUES OVER ATM ACCESSIBILITY Suits Against Chevy Chase Bank, Rite Aid, and Diebold Charge ADA Violations WASHINGTON, D.C. (5/24/00) In a warning shot to ATM owners and operators nationwide, the National Federation of the Blind (NFB), its local affiliate the National Federation of the Blind of the District of Columbia, the Disability Rights Council of Greater Washington, and several blind individuals filed suit today against Chevy Chase Bank, charging that the bank's more than 800 automated teller machines (ATMs) in Maryland, Virginia, and the District of Columbia are in violation of the Americans with Disabilities Act (ADA). In a separate suit the plaintiffs charged Rite Aid Corporation and Diebold, one of the leading manufacturers of automated teller machines (ATMs), with violating the ADA. The lawsuit against Chevy Chase Bank states that the bank's ATMs--many of which are located in major visitor sites such as the Smithsonian (including the National Air and Space Museum), the National Zoo, and all three area airports-- are inaccessible to blind people because they use computer screen text prompts to guide customers through transactions. These screen text prompts are not translated into a medium that is accessible to the blind, such as audio output. A recent agreement between Diebold and Rite Aid under which Diebold is installing and operating ATMs in Rite Aid stores nationwide also violates the provisions of the ADA, according to the plaintiffs, because the ATMs being installed use screen text prompts that are inaccessible to the blind. "Our nation's capital should set the example for the nation to follow by being fully accessible to persons who are blind or otherwise disabled," says NFB President Dr. Marc Maurer. "It is distressing to know that the only ATMs available in such national treasures as the Smithsonian are inaccessible to the blind. It is equally troubling that a company like Diebold, which manufactures and sells voice-output ATMs that can be used independently by the blind, has chosen instead to install machines in Rite Aid stores that rely solely on screen text prompts." The two lawsuits, both of which were filed in U.S. District Court for the District of Columbia, ask the court to order the defendants "to make the necessary technological modifications to their ATMs to allow access by persons who are blind or visually impaired," says NFB attorney Daniel Goldstein. Because Diebold manufactures voice-output ATMs, but chose not to install them in Rite Aid outlets, the suit also seeks punitive damages against Diebold under the provisions of the D.C. Human Rights Act. "The bottom line is that the technology exists to make these ATMs fully accessible," Maurer said. "Unfortunately, the defendants are installing ATMs that are inaccessible to the blind, even though the cost for voice-output ATMs is negligible, and providing them would not fundamentally alter the nature of ATM services or retail drugstore facilities." The ADA requires that "instructions and all information for use [in ATMs] be made accessible to, and independently usable by, persons with vision impairments." While some of the defendants' ATMs have Braille keypads and labels, the suit charges that this feature is "an ineffective accommodation under the ADA." "Not all persons who are blind can read Braille," explains Dr. Maurer. "Moreover, Braille keypads and labels are static. They do not provide accessible and independently usable, sequential, computer screen instructions to guide a blind customer through a bank transaction. As a result blind customers basically have little choice but to rely on others to do their banking for them." According to the NFB, the only effective means to make ATMs accessible to the blind is voice-guidance technology, which allows blind persons to hear step- by-step instructions. Voice-guidance technology is accessed by plugging personal headphones into a universal audio jack installed in the ATM or by using a telephone handset, also installed in the ATM. The NFB has long been actively involved in promoting adaptive technologies for the blind so that blind people can live and work independently in today's technology-dependent world. The organization runs the International Braille and Technology Center for the Blind at its headquarters in Baltimore, Maryland. The Center, which houses more than $2 million worth of hardware and software designed specifically for the blind, is the world's most extensive demonstration and evaluation center for computer-related technology serving the needs of blind people. That was the press release, and it wasn't long before members of the press covering technology and the ATM industry took note. The following story appeared in the May 24, 2000, issue of ATMMagazine.com, an Internet publication. ATM accessibility The National Federation of the Blind drew a line in the sand for the ATM industry today. Contending that the industry has not done enough to make its machines accessible to the visually impaired, the Federation--along with its District of Columbia affiliate, the Disability Rights Council of Greater Washington, and several blind individuals--filed two lawsuits charging ATM deployers with violating the Americans with Disabilities Act. NFB President Marc Maurer said his organization felt compelled to file the suits because other, less aggressive efforts have failed. "We have tried negotiation and tried urging the regulators, and it hasn't worked. Today we are asking the court to make the requirements of the law plain." In the first suit the NFB names Chevy Chase Bank, noting that the bank's 800 ATMs, many of which are located in high-profile sites like the Smithsonian and the National Zoo, are inaccessible to blind people because they use computer text screen prompts to guide customers through transactions. "Our nation's capital should set the example for the nation to follow by being fully accessible to patrons who are blind or otherwise disabled," Maurer said. "It is distressing to know that the only ATMs available in such national treasures as the Smithsonian are inaccessible to the blind." In a separate suit the NFB charges Rite Aid Corporation and Diebold, the nation's leading manufacturer in 1999, with violating the ADA. Diebold is installing and operating ATMs in Rite Aid stores nationwide under an agreement signed last year. Again the NFB contends the machines use screen text prompts that are inaccessible to the blind. Because Diebold manufactures voice-activated ATMs, but did not install them in Rite Aid stores, the suit also seeks punitive damages against the manufacturer under the provisions of the D.C. Human Rights Act. "The bottom line is that the technology exists to make these ATMs fully accessible," Maurer said. "Unfortunately, the defendants are installing ATMs that are inaccessible to the blind, even though the cost for voice-activated ATMs is negligible and providing them would not fundamentally alter the nature of ATM services or retail drugstore facilities." While Diebold did not comment on the pending litigation, spokesperson Joseph Richardson said, "Diebold firmly believes its products meet current federal guidelines regarding access for persons with disabilities. Diebold actively promotes a wide range of solutions that help consumers access and use its products." And, he added, "Diebold is committed to work within any and all legal requirements to help consumers access its products." The lawsuits, both of which were filed in U.S. District Court for the District of Columbia, ask the court to order the defendants "to make the necessary technological modifications to their ATMs to allow access by persons who are blind or visually impaired," said NFB attorney Daniel Goldstein. The ADA requires that "instructions and all information for use (in ATMs) be made accessible to, and independently usable by, persons with visual impairments." While some of the Chevy Chase Bank and Rite Aid ATMs have Braille keypads and labels, the suits charge that these features are "an ineffective accommodation under the ADA." "Not all persons who are blind can read Braille," Maurer said. "Moreover, Braille keypads and labels are static. They do not provide accessible and independently usable, sequential computer screen instructions to guide a blind customer through a bank transaction. As a result blind customers basically have little choice but to rely on others to do their banking for them." According to the NFB, the most effective way to make ATMs accessible to the blind is voice guidance technology, which allows blind ATM users to hear step- by-step instructions. The user typically activates the voice guidance feature by plugging headphones into a universal audio jack installed in the ATM or by using a telephone handset installed in the machine. In a written statement W. Scott McSween, executive vice president of Chevy Chase Bank, said, "Talking ATMs show promise. However, the challenge is that the technology is still in development and may not be readily achievable. "Chevy Chase Bank will continue to pursue technologies that make banking services more convenient and accessible to all consumers and would be pleased to work with representatives from the National Federation of the Blind in this regard." At a press conference announcing the lawsuits, the NFB showed a videotape featuring an audio ATM deployed by the Royal Bank of Canada. The bank began developing the audio ATM in 1996 and has installed fifteen of them across Canada, mostly in Ontario. Several U.S. financial institutions, including Wells Fargo, Citibank, and Bank of America, have announced plans to install audio ATMs. Citibank has deployed five such machines in California. Wells Fargo intends to install twenty audio ATMs in California this year, then roll the technology out to 1,500 California locations over the next three years. BofA, the nation's largest ATM owner, has installed four in California and is testing about a dozen more there. The bank's plans call for a total of 2,500 ATMs in Florida and California during the next three years. BofA spokesperson Ann DeFabio said the bank may install more machines in other states as well. "We strive to meet, if not exceed, the ADA standards wherever we do business." Maurer hinted that more lawsuits could follow. "This is the beginning," he said. "We are not prepared to have these machines and others like them established throughout the U.S. in a continuing pattern that prevents an entire class of people from having the opportunity to do the same kind of business and banking as the rest of society." [PHOTO/CAPTION 3: Donna Balaski] It's a New Day at BESB by Donna Balaski, M.D. From the Editor: In the April, 2000, issue we reprinted large portions of a report by the Connecticut Attorney General on the activities of the by then past director of the state agency serving the blind, the Board of Education and Services for the Blind (BESB). The Attorney General is a Democrat, and the Governor and his BESB appointees are Republicans, so politics clearly entered into the equation. But it was also clear that inappropriate conduct had been taking place and that efforts were now being made to correct the problems. The Governor appointed one of his savvier lieutenants, Lawrence Alibozek, as the new agency director charged with making peace with consumers and putting the BESB house in order. Early indications are that Alibozek is doing exactly that. In late March he hired Federationist Dr. Donna Balaski as the Director of Community Affairs and Public Relations. It is still early days in the new administration, but Donna reports remarkable changes in the attitudes and atmosphere at BESB. Here is her preliminary report on what is happening these days in the Connecticut agency: ********** Over the last four months the Board of Education and Services for the Blind (BESB) ended one chapter in its 107-year history and has begun a new one. Governor Rowland named Lawrence Alibozek the new Executive Director on January 1, 2000. The 140 days since his appointment have led to a substantial number of improvements; this has been my observation from both outside and inside the Agency. Larry Alibozek, BESB's Executive Director, created an open-door policy. This invitation was extended not only to the staff but to the community as well. I met with him in late February. Our conversation revolved mostly around my experiences as a client of the agency, some of which were good and some of which were not so good. We discussed some of the philosophical concepts that I learned from the NFB's Joanne Wilson while I was a student at the Louisiana Center for the Blind. Mr. Alibozek was interested in this philosophy, which states that with proper attitudes, skills training, and opportunities blindness can be reduced to a physical nuisance. I believed that I had the proper skills and attitude, and Mr. Alibozek gave me the opportunity to aid in restructuring the agency. Not only is there now an atmosphere of openness and understanding at BESB, but significant, positive action has begun to occur. One of the most noticeable transformations has been in the disposition of the staff. One staff member recently commented, "I love coming into work now. "Another staff member said, "I just wanted to put the past where it belongs, in the past, and move on." A new management team has been assembled at BESB and has already helped the staff move toward creating a positive future at the agency. As a result a new enthusiasm abounds, and from this attitude have come many great ideas and energized strategic planning for the future. The Adult Services Department has created new solutions to old problems, which will better serve adults who do not plan to return to work. Some of the programs have merged; for example, the Business Enterprises Program is now consolidated into the Vocational Rehabilitation Program. A new Public Relations Department has been created, and there is an increased effort in community outreach and community education. Many more organizational and operational improvements are occurring. I became the director of community affairs and public relations on the last day of March. Since arriving at BESB, I have found the challenges much larger than I anticipated, but not insurmountable. Mr. Alibozek's function at BESB is to guide and restructure the main functions of the agency while each manager is responsible and empowered to provide the appropriate pieces of the foundation. Many of the changes that must occur are internal and may not be apparent to the outside observer. Small changes can have dramatic effects. Change is in the air, and we are moving forward. Many positive moves toward creating partnerships with other community-based groups have occurred. These include the Lions Club, Fidelco Guide Dog Foundation, and the Oak Hill School/Connecticut Institute for the Blind. In addition the Attorney General's Office, with the support of BESB, has worked diligently with the NFB to create accessible Web sites for people who use screen-reading software. (See the June, 2000, issue of the Braille Monitor.) The future holds nothing but promise. In the brief time I have spent at BESB I have found that all programs and services possess a complex integration, not only within the agency, but also with the community, and other agencies too. Change cannot happen overnight but is continuing and will continue to take place. Under the guidance of a good leader, a great staff, and members of the community BESB will transform attitudes about blindness in Connecticut. As I say, it's a new day at BESB. [PHOTO/CAPTION 4: Jim Marks] Thanks, But No Thanks by Jim Marks From the Editor: Jim Marks has been an officer in the Montana affiliate of the National Federation of the Blind since 1992 and has served as his chapter's Secretary since 1995. Since 1988 he has been the director of disability services for students at the University of Montana-Missoula, and he served two terms as chairman of the Special Interest Group on Blindness of the Association on Higher Education and Disability (AHEAD). For a number of years he has been a columnist on disability issues for mainstream publications. In short, Jim Marks knows the disability scene in higher education. As we approach the tenth anniversary of the passage of the Americans with Disabilities Act, it is interesting to consider what impact the ADA has had on students and the institutions that work with them and sometimes against them in the educational process. This is what Jim has to say: During the debate before the passage of the Americans with Disabilities Act (ADA), the National Federation of the Blind took a position that surprised many. The NFB said it would oppose the passage of the Americans with Disabilities Act if the bill failed to include a clause which gave protected citizens the right to refuse an accommodation. At first I wondered what the Federation was up to. Reject an accommodation? Why? But now that the law is ten years older and I'm ten years wiser, the reason for the NFB position stands immutably clear. If we didn't have the right to refuse an accommodation, those with good and bad intentions would rob the blind of our self-determination. I ought to know. I am the director of a disability service at a public university. The things that take place in higher education exemplify why the NFB was right on in protecting the fundamental human right of saying, "Thanks, but no thanks." Today's blind student faces a learning experience which differs significantly from that of ten or more years ago. Now disability service offices carry out many of the services formerly provided by commissions for the blind and vocational rehabilitation agencies. Although many colleges have had such offices since the mid-70's, many more have proliferated since the ADA took effect. We are an infant industry that is growing by leaps and bounds. In 1988 I served about 120 students with an annual budget of $13,000 per year, a figure which included my half-time salary. Now my office serves over 600 students with a budget of $340,000 per year. Where it used to be just me working part time, now there are ten staff, forty student workers, and some eighty volunteers. And my school isn't alone in this kind of growth. According to the American Council on Education the number of students with disabilities in higher education has grown to about 9 percent of any student body. From my observations of other offices it is common for about 2 to 6 percent of a student body to enroll with the disability service office. Done properly, a disability service stays out of the student's way. Done poorly, the office either kills the student with kindness or with outrageous, power-robbing controls. Believe you me, as a Federationist working deep in the trenches of higher education, it pays for blind students to be wary of the people who hold jobs like mine. The bulk of my colleagues don't know much about blindness. Most offices gear themselves to serve students with other kinds of disabilities. Blind students make up tiny portions of the students enrolled. Therefore blind students must be prepared to educate their disability services coordinators about blindness. There are no knights in shining armor. Blind students must look to themselves as their best resource in dealing with college. Over-accommodation trips up more blind students than any other flaw in the disability services. Simply put, over-accommodation means doing for the student what he or she is perfectly capable of doing for him- or herself. For instance, some blind students must unfortunately use human note takers in course lectures. For some students with other kinds of disabilities note taking levels the playing field. But blind students can and do take notes for themselves. The disability service, out of ignorance, applies note takers as a one-size-fits-all solution to a problem that doesn't need to exist for the blind. When the able student accepts the over-accommodation, he or she pays a price. Career success depends on one's ability to manage information. Employers say, "Don't know how to take notes for yourself? Sorry. We're looking for competent employees who can contribute to our organization." Another example of over-accommodation involves the sandwiching of the disability service between the student and the instructor. Blind students must connect with their professors. If the disability service office intervenes in this relationship, it is over-accommodating. Many know about the letters of verification that disability service offices write for students and faculty. The letters verify that the student has a disability and a right to accommodation. Sometimes the disability service office gives the letters to the student to give to instructors. Sometimes the office sends them directly to the instructors. In most cases the letter of verification is an option, one that blind students really don't need. The blind student should be able to articulate a personal request for accommodation. But some schools compel students to use these letters. Here's how it works. The disability service office tells the faculty that they should demand a letter from the disability services before any academic adjustments are granted. In this way, the rhetoric goes, the institution is protected best. Control rests with the disability service office, its importance skyrockets, and the empire expands. Meanwhile the student holds on to the letter as though it is the only passport to access. Schools have now created dependencies where none existed before. Thanks to the "Thank you, but no thank you" clause, the cycle of custodialism may be broken by the blind student with spunk. Another battle--one that surprises many--must be waged over readers. The ADA requires communication within a program to be just as effective for the blind as for others. Oftentimes alternative formats such as Braille, tape cassettes, large print, and computer texts are used to assure communication. But some schools go so far as to say these alternatives are all that's required. Consequently they restrict the use of readers by blind students. A Midwest university ADA dispute resolution officer recently contacted me for technical assistance regarding a blind student's complaint against a restrictive policy on the use of readers. The policy placed all the controls in the hands of the disability service, not the blind student. The office recruited, hired, and monitored the readers. The policy even required that reading occur on the campus. Incredibly, the policy went so far as to prohibit the reader from reading anything twice. Fail to comply, the policy stated, and the service will be terminated, leaving only alternative formats as an option. The final kicker in this story was that the money for the reader program came from the rehabilitation agency rather than the university. It wasn't even their money; yet the controls choked self-determination by the student. Once I attended a conference of people who hold jobs like mine. There I participated in a workshop entitled something like this: "Custodians or Traffic Cops: Defining the Role of Disability Service Officers in Higher Education." The workshop organizers wanted to deliver an unsuspecting audience of do-gooders and control freaks a lesson in how to do it right. One presenter said something that stuck with me. He said the best disability services assure a process by which students achieve self-determination. This means the services are optional and put the student in the position of control. Sound familiar? It should, because self-determination rests at the core of Federation philosophy and practice. Disability service offices are probably here to stay, but how the offices conduct themselves has yet to be written in stone. The Federation's message of taking personal responsibility shapes best practices in disability services in higher education. We must remain vigilant about the seductions of over- accommodation and the dangers of custodialism. Remember that saying "Thanks, but no thanks" is healthy. I, for one, am glad the NFB had the imagination to see what was coming and the good sense to protect our ability to do something about it. [PHOTO/CAPTION 5: Peggy Elliott] DSS Offices and the Age-Old Lure of Custodialism: Are We Going Back? by Peggy Elliott From the Editor: Now that college students are younger than my children, I find myself and my educational experience being dismissed by my young friends. They are tactful and polite, but I can all but hear the thoughts going through their minds: "You developed Braille-writing speed taking college class notes with a slate and stylus? We depend on laptop computers and electronic note takers." "You had to retype a clean copy of papers to turn in? Thank God for the computer and spell check!" "You found, trained, and paid your own readers? What was life like without disabled students services?" I remember asking my mother if she had ever traveled in a covered wagon. Now I know how she felt. But contrary to the assessment of many of today's students, the fundamentals have not changed very much. Personal skills and competencies are still the foundation of success. Computers have added a few competencies to those a successful student must have, but aside from the great value of accurate typing in the old days, I can think of no skill that I developed doing things for myself in college that is not still of critical importance to academic and employment success today. Yet the movement on campuses since the rise of disabled student services and passage of the Americans with Disabilities Act has almost entirely been away from independent student management of disability-related matters. The lure of custodialism has always been strong; for today's students it is proving well- nigh irresistible, confused as it has now become with the suggestion that it is nothing more or less than disability rights. This danger is not recent. Six years ago NFB Second Vice President Peggy Elliott wrote a letter to a college official in the state of Iowa warning of the threat and suggesting the way universities should be dealing with it. That letter has sat in my computer all this time waiting for me to find an opportunity to print it. With the appearance of Jim Marks's article, "Thanks, But No Thanks," that opportunity has now come. I asked Peggy to write a companion piece to his from the perspective of a savvy blind adult outside the halls of ivy. Here it is, beginning with her letter to the college official: Grinnell, Iowa June 28, 1994 Dear Dean: When we talked the other day, you mentioned that there is quite a bit of discussion about universities' having trouble providing books for blind students. Having been a blind undergraduate and a blind law student, I am quite familiar with the book situation. Here are my thoughts. I would appreciate any response you might have. Under Section 504 of the Rehabilitation Act and now under the Americans with Disabilities Act many believe that universities are required to provide books in alternative media for blind students. You mentioned a recent court case on the subject. I take a different position: the law should be interpreted in the way most conducive to helping blind students, and that is not university provision of books. The law as interpreted may or may not make such a requirement. Universities on behalf of their blind students have a strong interest in the law's being interpreted so that universities do not have this responsibility. This is not to be cheap or mean; it is to provide the blind student with a full learning environment. Even if it is not now, the law should be interpreted in such a way that its ends and the university's are served. The end of the law is to create opportunity; the end of the university is to educate. There is a way to do both. Here are some considerations I use in reaching my conclusion: 1. The university's job is to educate. This means education, not only in specific disciplines, but in one's general preparedness for living. If the university misses this second mission, it fails the student even if it graduates a perfect specimen in the chosen discipline. For blind and sighted students alike this means learning how to handle the responsibilities of adulthood. Everyone at a university is taking on new challenges, learning new directions. For the blind student this must necessarily include learning how to handle blindness-specific issues. One of these is learning how to handle the demands of acquiring information when most information is presented in ink print. Look at the issue this way. The blind student who can rely on others to locate his or her books, handouts, and tests in an alternative medium in college will get a rude shock when offering his or her services to a potential employer. No matter what the law seems to say, every employer has the right to watch its bottom line and to hire the most efficient workers it can get. The blind student who can rely on a college service to get a book cannot rely on an employer to get a report in an alternative medium. What does the former blind student and now the blind employee do when information is available only in print and must be digested, analyzed, and used in his or her job by Monday? Can the former blind student explain to the employer that someone else has to arrange to transcribe or record it? No. At that rate the blind employee will soon be a former employee. Providing services in the university setting should always take into account the student's need for education. In the case of getting books, material, any form of information, the blind student should be treated like other students--expected to gather and use the information for himself or herself. Disabled student service offices do their best work for blind students when they give students the freedom and the incentive to learn information- gathering for themselves before a paycheck is riding on having the skill. Without the knowledge of how to gather and use information under all circumstances, the blind person is likely to spend a lot of years being a potential employee instead of an employee. 2. Why do blind students not know this? All of them came through high school as blind students or have recently lost their sight. Neither group currently has the skills. Those who grew up as blind students know only that someone else always got their books for them. That's convenient; it worked in high school. So who's going to do it in college? The answer from the university should be: You are. We'll help you learn. We won't do it for you. 3. On a job the blind person must be able to compete. He or she must have the skill to get and use information and the confidence that, no matter the situation, he or she can handle it. This confidence comes only from having successfully done just that in college. The skill involves working out your own mix of taping material ahead of time, finding already-taped or Brailled material, Brailling it yourself, and using readers. This last item is vital for blind students to learn. The world is not predictable. All of us who work get unexpected things on our desks or assigned to us. You have to be situated to respond to whatever comes. No employer wants someone who can only do the expected, the predictable, the pre-planned. Employers hire brains and initiative and creativity; at least employers of college graduates purport to do so. Colleges that provide all necessary information to blind students squelch this ability in the student--not meaning to, intending to follow the law, believing they are helping the blind student. Not true. Negotiating test rules with professors engenders self- confidence and flexibility--the professor doesn't always want to do what you want. Fending for yourself in the case of sudden handouts in print develops creativity and use of initiative. Adding an unannounced book or switching editions does the same. Let the blind student learn how to do these things. Help him or her; don't do it for the person. 4. As I am sure is obvious by now, I think that disabled student service offices have a role in assisting blind students very different from the role many play. Their role should be to facilitate the blind student's learning how to do things for himself or herself, not doing them for the blind student. This concept is fully developed by Marci Page, an employee in a disabled student service office. [See the January, 1993, issue of the Braille Monitor.] I have attached a copy of her article with this letter. 5. I know that these are not the usual ways of looking at this problem. Service providers faced with what appear to be crises or impending crises are oriented to solve the immediate problem as fast as they can. Interpretations (what I think are misinterpretations) of laws press in the same direction, all unwise. I think it is time to add the dimension of time to this analysis, deliberately to look beyond the immediate problem to the consequences of the apparent solution, and to be guided by this longer measurement. Aristotle would agree. Let me know what you think. As a blind student myself and as the friend of many blind students now working through these issues, I am vitally interested in how people react to these thoughts and vitally interested in finding ways of making them the prevailing wisdom. We in the blind community have worked out these ideas for ourselves; now we'd like to reach a meeting of the minds with others. One of the unintended consequences of this immediate problem-solving orientation is that colleges mentally classify the blind as subject to different rules. If you get your books through the school and if the school has not gotten the books, then the student cannot be held responsible for being behind in class. Nonsense. The student is a student and is there to learn. While learning the subject, the blind student is also learning how to learn, how to manage information. He or she should be held to the same standard of promptitude and completeness as other students and should be glad of it. Likewise, when a blind student can blame others for not producing so-called necessary help, the message is sent to the blind student's colleagues that the blind are subject to a different and softer standard. Bad for employment in the future--college colleagues are future employers; the blind student, too, comes to expect a softer standard and cannot fend in the real world when it hits. Reactions? Do you feel the urge to say I am unrealistic? Am I one of those exceptions who can handle the rough and tumble where most blind students can't? I have answers for these and other reactions. I would welcome a dialogue. Sincerely yours, Peggy Pinder Elliott I wrote the foregoing letter in 1994. Sadly I received no reaction from the dean who requested it and none from the colleagues to whom he said he was going to distribute it. I concluded at the time that my thoughts were so far removed from those of the dean and other recipients that they simply had nothing to say. In the intervening six years my opinions on the subject of DSS offices have only deepened. Here are a few thoughts in addition to those already mentioned: 1. I perceive more and more reliance by blind people on the Americans with Disabilities Act as the cure for blindness. I don't mean that the ADA literally gives us sight. But its provisions are seen by all too many blind people as the appropriate trade-off for sight. It's never said this way; it's only thought. But the thought is poisonous to our independence. The thought is: Someone else is responsible, must take the actions I as a blind person cannot, and is available for blame when things don't go right. For blind students in college today this poisonous thought has its roots in today's misapplication of the full-inclusion approach to the education of blind children--familiarly known as mainstreaming. While not opposing full inclusion itself, I observe that its products--and most of the handful of students educated by other systems as well--all too often arrive at the doors of colleges, technical schools, or rehabilitation agencies without life-coping skills. Someone else has always gotten books, arranged classes, overridden inconvenient obstacles, and produced tests and handouts for them. In elementary and middle school this makes sense. But high school students should be moving toward handling these tasks for themselves to the same degree that their sighted peers do and even more so. Blind people will always access information differently, and we need to learn early and skillfully to acquire and process it for ourselves. Today this move is uncommon. The reason seems to be largely a management issue. It's easier to do things for a student than to take the time to teach him or her to do it. Teachers and administrators aren't around when the student hits college with no coping skills. But the DSS office is. Under the pressure of the perceived provisions of ADA, of human kindness, and of managing a situation to solution, colleges often replicate the system students are accustomed to. Provide, manage, accommodate, graduate. Again the college officials aren't around when the blind person seeks employment--if the blind person seeks employment, that is. 2. Colleges using this approach in serving blind students are graduating men and women without coping skills. Everyone feels that success has been achieved when the diploma is awarded. Everyone, that is, except the blind person, who in a deep secret part of the soul knows that something is missing. Unfortunately, what is missing is life-coping skills, and many blind graduates never quite grapple with the employment market, feeling somehow unprepared. I'd hate to tell you how many times I have counseled blind graduates, full of professional and technical knowledge, who ultimately confess poor travel skills, poor literacy skills, poor information-gathering skills, and so on. The college graduate is baffled and puzzled by this lack of coping skills and unsure what to do about it. The answer, of course, is blindness training which includes life-coping skills as a necessary part of the training. But the college graduate is often reluctant to admit to himself or herself that there are still areas needing work. After all, sighted graduates are stepping into jobs, getting paychecks, buying homes, and getting on with their lives. The blind person doesn't feel ready and isn't sure why. Before ADA and the DSS office most of us who got through college had a system of coping skills by the end of the triumph or ordeal of graduation. It wasn't always easy. But college was an effective training ground. I would of course never maintain that we blind students back then got or that blind students today get the appropriate kind of support from vocational rehabilitation that this federal-state partnership program should provide. My point is that, without DSS and with minimal services from V.R., we blind students back then were forced to find methods for coping that began with reliance on ourselves. We used the basic principle I tried to explain to the dean: educational institutions are there to educate, and rehab is there to provide blindness-specific tools and support. Mixing the two makes no sense. I hear people today say things like "My rehab counselor says I have to get all my services from the college under ADA" and "That student would have done fine if his DSS office had only provided him the proper support." This is just another version of the same poisonous thinking that can rob a blind person of the chance for true self-sufficiency. It's also a shameful proof of the point Federationists have made for years that vocational rehabilitation is not doing its job. Why on earth anyone would think that an institution of higher learning should be in the job of rehabilitation, I don't know. But that's what is happening. Blind students today are told that they should get computers and readers and books in alternative media from their institutions, which in effect turns the college into a rehab agency. As we all know, nature abhors a vacuum, and rehab has certainly left a vast amount of vacuum to abhor in its alleged provision of services to blind students. Think of it: Congress passes ADA as a civil rights law to end discrimination against the disabled, and the next thing we know the ADA has been transformed into a mandate that colleges must provide readers! In reviewing this twisted logic, keep in mind that, if rehab had been doing its job all these years, there would be no need for colleges to contemplate providing sighted guides to take blind students to class or human note-takers to fill the literacy gap. Back to the main point: the job of educational institutions is to educate. We as blind students should interact with our colleges in the same way that other students do--registering for classes by ourselves, working out details of classroom performance ourselves, completing assignments or flunking for ourselves, and solving the myriad of tasks all sighted students are expected to perform on the way to graduation, just as they do. On the way we learn those same coping skills that sighted students learn. Don't forget for a minute that sighted students are doing the same thing. They fail to get instructions right, fail to get to the library to get the reserved material assimilated, don't know where a classroom is before they first go to look for it, take notes for themselves or do not as they decide, learn to perform all the tasks or to take the consequences. It's part of the educational process. Blind students should be doing the same thing; and, to the extent that we need different tools like computers or readers, we should be getting them from the rehab people, not the education people. So rehab doesn't work? You can't get enough reader time or the computer you need from rehab? Then beat on rehab! Find other students to do it with you. Recruit graduates (otherwise known as adult blind people) to serve on your team. Make rehab justify every refusal, every failure to function, every excuse and temporization. After all, rehab is the government. They work for whom? For us! Let us not permit their failure to be transformed into such a smothering safety net for the blind that none of us can ever truly succeed. On the subject of teamwork Dr. Jernigan once said: "Even animals in the jungle have sense enough to hunt in packs. The blind ought to be at least as intelligent." Instead we have permitted rehab's failures and the misinterpretation of the ADA to yield the current system: Each blind student functions alone without a team of fellow blind supporters and gets rehab from educational institutions that results in no coping skills upon graduation. I might add that learning how to hunt in packs and succeed is a life-coping skill in and of itself. The circumstances in which blind students find themselves, however, are different in one important respect from those facing other disabled students. People who use wheelchairs must have institutional commitment to get rid of stairs. No amount of rehabilitation will achieve that goal. People with many other disabilities face circumstances similar to those of people using wheelchairs. Blindness is the only disability I know for which the real or perceived barriers are wholly in the minds of blind people ourselves and the minds of the educators with whom we deal. And we are the only disability group for whom proper rehabilitation is a sufficient answer. But because we are disabled, we get swept into the DSS movement. Educational institutions have been told to handle the disabled appropriately, and in many cases the handling must be institutional. We're the only ones that don't fit the model. But this fact is overlooked by institutions and ignored by all too many blind students glad for an extra hand, a ready-made way to get things done that seems easier than doing it oneself. The thing such students forget is that, when someone puts a floor beneath you, preventing you at all costs from failure, that same person prevents you from succeeding. In order to have the possibility of success, we must also have the possibility of failure. All too many of us see the ADA as our promise from Congress that someone else will do the hard stuff, as our guarantee against failure. It all too often is. At the same time it guarantees against success. Here is the last little bit of poison from the ADA: the concept that all disabled people are alike, can be handled alike, can be fit into the same box and helped through college. While other disabled people need specific, tangible institutional help, that help is guaranteed to withhold the very skills and the very possibility of failure from blind people that we most need. 3. Which leads me to the final point. When I talk to students today, I often feel a disconnection. Blind students today listen politely, murmur about the importance of independence, and change the topic as soon as possible. It's clear that many blind students privately think I don't know what's happening on today's campuses, don't understand today's world as seen by them. They're going to classes, doing fine, using DSS offices for a wide variety of services, and feel great about the subject. Why disturb a good thing? They're okay. I just keep trying, as I am doing here, to explain that I do very much understand what is going on on today's campuses. It's what's always gone on everywhere a blind person shows up. The ADA has only made it more systematic and changed its name from custodialism to what is perceived as a right. Right under the law or not, custodialism is still custodialism, and failure to learn coping skills is still failure to learn coping skills. I've said it before, and I'll say it again here: Whenever a blind person is tempted to say the words "Americans with Disabilities Act," that blind person should pause, take a deep breath, do a little mind-emptying exercise, and then focus on the real question which is "How am I myself--this very person and no one else--going to get this job done?" Any temptation to duck, wangle, or permit others to do our coping for us should be firmly resisted. This is good Federation practice, teaching others that we can be successful in the little as well as the great things. But, most important of all, it is just plain selfish in the sense that all of us need to teach ourselves that we can do things. This teaching of ourselves translates into self-confidence, and that self-confidence translates into first-class citizenship and into jobs. When a DSS office does it for us, it translates into failure to learn coping skills. So say it nicely, say it with kindness, say it with firmness, but say it! "I'll do it myself." And make it stick. Make it stick with the DSS office, and make it stick with yourself. When you do, we're all winners. We win when we discover self-reliance, when we build our own dignity, when we learn to handle tasks for ourselves without even thinking much about it. In other words, we win when we find out who we are and reject the trappings of custodialism, however they are dressed up and disguised. In a very real, very practical sense that is exactly what Dr. Jernigan meant when he said: "We know who we are, and we will never go back." [PHOTO/CAPTION 6: Jim Omvig] Informed Choice and the Empowerment Circle by James H. Omvig From the Editor: Through the years Jim Omvig has written many articles for the Braille Monitor grounded in his years of experience in rehabilitation. They express common-sense notions about what works and what doesn't in rehabilitating blind people. He was born and raised in Iowa, where he became one of Dr. Jernigan's early students at the Adult Orientation and Training Center of the Iowa Commission for the Blind. He became an attorney and has done important work to help blind and disabled people across the country. Among other things he has directed adult training centers serving blind people in Iowa and Alaska. Today he is retired and lives in Arizona, where he is a leader of the NFB of Arizona. In the following article Jim explains what is and is not meant by the rehabilitation term "informed choice." This is what he says: To choose or not to choose or, more accurately, what to choose? That is the question--the question for the new vocational rehabilitation (VR) customer. In recent years far too many blind customers of the VR system have been shortchanged because they have chosen unwisely; they have not known how or what to choose. It can be said that they have made uninformed choices. As a result, without ever even knowing it, they have sold themselves short. Vocational rehabilitation for people with disabilities became a national effort in America in 1920, but this first program did not include the blind at all. Apparently people assumed the blind had no rehabilitation potential and thus could not become employable. The original law, the Smith-Fess Act, established the National Civilian Vocational Rehabilitation Act (P.L. 66-236). By 1943, as blinded veterans were coming home from the Second World War, the blind were finally included in VR programs and presumed to have at least some kind of employment potential. The 1943 law which brought the blind into VR programs was the Barden-LaFollette Act (P.L. 78-113). In the eighty years since VR was inaugurated in the United States, and in the fifty-seven years since the blind were included in VR programs, many new concepts have come along, and doubtless many have gone. Also it goes without saying that at times nothing short of mass confusion has been the order of the day. However, no concept in the VR process has ever been more confused, misunderstood, twisted, and misused than that of informed choice. Since the concept has been so misconstrued and misapplied, large numbers of blind VR customers actually have been hurt rather than helped by what was intended to be a positive plan of grand design. The concept of informed choice was first introduced to the United States Congress and to those involved in the field of work with the blind by the National Federation of the Blind in 1990. At that time a few orientation and adjustment centers around the country were consistently providing high quality, proper training--they knew the secret of full empowerment for the blind and taught it regularly. The fact was, however, that most training centers didn't have a clue about what proper training really is, let alone provide it. The NFB thought that a blind customer--no matter where he or she happened to live--should have the right to choose to go at VR expense to an orientation and adjustment center which offered proper training and full empowerment, so the proposal went to Congress. No action was taken in 1990, but the seed was planted. The blind of the NFB worked hard, and by the time Congress passed the 1992 VR Amendments, the first choice provision was put into the Act (The Vocational Rehabilitation Act of 1973, as Amended). In the 1998 Rehabilitation Act amendments the informed choice provision was strengthened and stated much more strongly. The concept caught on, was used, and became confused. Then it began to be misused. Now the concept of consumer choice is as clear as mud. What then is informed choice? It simply means that the customer is to be treated with dignity and respect--as an equal partner--with the service provider. Unlike the old days when the VR counselor made decisions and then told the passive customer what to do, the customer now has the right to participate fully in the planning and decision-making. In addition to selecting the employment objective and the broad range of needed services, the customer also generally has the right to choose the training program--pre-vocational or vocational--in which he or she would like to participate. The customer does not, however, have the right to tell a program how it should run its business. In other words, the customer cannot compel a VR vendor to change the nature of its services. If the customer does not like some aspect of a given training program, he or she should choose a program which offers what is wanted. To clarify the point, let's look at a couple of simple analogies. I decided to become an attorney, so I chose to go to law school and to attend Loyola University of Chicago. The university, of course, chose what it would teach me and how it would do it. I could have chosen to go to some other law school, but each in turn would have chosen what and how to teach me and how I would be expected to dress, behave, and participate and what I would study. Or, to illustrate absurdity by being absurd, try this one on for size: How would you react if your youngster were to come home from school some day and say, "Hey, Dad, we have this new thing in school. It's called `Choice.' I get to decide whether or not to take English or Spelling or History or Math or Science. It's really cool. Hey, Dad, I choose recess!" Obviously there are certain presumptions in this world. Whether we are going to law school or grade school or high school or night school or an adjustment center for the blind, it is presumed that those who run the schools and training centers know more about what is needed and how to achieve the objective than those who attend the programs. If they don't, then the roles should be reversed, and the administrators had better become the students. "So," you ask, "what in the world does all of this nonsense have to do with blind VR customers and informed choice?" Everything! In the confusion and frustration which now exist, customers attending training centers for the blind incorrectly believe that they have the right not only to make the choice to attend a particular program but also to make choices as to whether or not they will take all core classes, stay all day, use and carry white canes, take and use Braille, use sleepshades during training, etc. Worse still, most rehabilitation counselors, rehabilitation teachers, and training-center personnel have also bought into the erroneous notion that this is what the NFB proposed and Congress meant when it offered VR customers a choice. This, of course, is absurd. There is an even more dubious aspect to this entire mess. The customers have obviously learned this mistaken view about choice from someone since they would have had no reason to have the slightest bit of knowledge about the subject. No doubt they never heard of the phrase, "informed choice," until they began working with their VR agencies. I believe that the customers have learned and are learning this erroneous view from the professionals in the field--the very rehab counselors, rehab teachers, and training-center personnel whose sole reason for being should be to help blind people adjust properly to their blindness. Chaos has been the result. But, even more than that, when service and training personnel not only gave up their right but also failed in their responsibility to set the curriculum needed to provide proper training--to empower their customers--those customers have become the losers. They have been short-changed by the very programs which were created to provide meaningful help. Since such customers have had little or no adequate guidance, far too many have chosen unwisely and thus have failed to get the training they really needed. To spell it out bluntly, the customer who is new to the blindness system has no foundation upon which to make an informed choice about anything dealing with proper training or adjustment to blindness. He or she has nothing by which to measure, no knowledge upon which to exercise judgment, no perspective. A person who has never been exposed to the blindness system wouldn't even understand the terminology. Just consider: The new student or customer doesn't know about the wide range of possibilities which exist for the blind who have had meaningful training. That customer doesn't know a properly trained blind person can live a normal, happy, productive life. He or she must be taught and often persuaded by someone who does know. The new customer doesn't know, for example, why it is critically important in the adjustment-to-blindness process to learn to use the word "blind," rather than actively to continue to engage in denial. He or she must be persuaded by someone who truly knows and understands the importance of the customer's acceptance of and adjustment to blindness. Similarly, the newly blinded adult doesn't know that prevocational training in a residential orientation and adjustment center is always preferable (if it is available) to training in a daytime-only program. This new customer does not know why it is important to use the long white cane rather than a short one; why sleepshades are necessary for the partially blind person during training; or why Braille and other alternative techniques are so important. Someone who really knows and cares must guide the blind person to recognize the truth of these and a myriad of other facts. All of the foregoing is simply the way that it is in the real world, and no amount of hoping or wishing that it isn't so can change it. To complicate the issue even further, all of this persuasion and teaching must usually be accomplished in spite of the fear and stubborn reluctance of the blind customer involved. For the simple truth is that, because of the prevailing negative attitudes about blindness, the typical new adult VR customer believes that he or she can really do nothing of significance as a blind person and that, therefore, the offered state services are totally useless and irrelevant if not impossible to achieve. He or she will have been taught since infancy that blindness means inferiority, and this attitude will usually not change until the quality service provider intervenes and helps to change it. Dr. Fredric K. Schroeder, Commissioner of the federal Rehabilitation Services Administration, told a marvelous story about choice at a training seminar for Arizona rehabilitation professionals. "When I went to work in Washington," he said, "I was asked by a personnel official if I would like to choose a federal health insurance plan. I said that I would like that. The personnel specialist and I went into a room and began picking up packets of information about my various options." Commissioner Schroeder continued, "We took a large stack of books and pamphlets back to my office, and I began to sort them. Then I said, `This is ridiculous. I'm not going to read all of this stuff!' "I went to a colleague--an employee who had worked for RSA for several years--and asked him if he had federal health insurance. He said that he did, and he told me which policy he had. I asked him if he liked it, and he said, `I do like it,' so I said, 'Me too,' and I signed up for what he had. "I then asked my secretary to take a copy of each piece of paper having to do with all of the federal health plans and to weigh the whole stack. She did. It weighed thirteen pounds. This was great. I had thirteen pounds of choice about my health-care plan. Of course, until I asked for information from a trusted colleague, I had no rational basis whatsoever for making a sound decision." This story should make the point. As with RSA Commissioner Schroeder, the customer who is new to the blindness system has no rational basis whatever for choosing the right adjustment program to attend. The employees of the quality service provider--those with the empowerment motive--must teach and lead and demonstrate and persuade in order to help elevate the new VR customer's expectations and to sell him or her on the proper training which can reasonably be expected to result in empowerment. Two questions arise on the topic of how best honestly to equip the customer to make an informed choice--the kind of choice which will lead to true empowerment for the blind. First, what is the real role in the real world of the professional as it relates to informed choice and the correct adjustment center to attend? Should that professional remain neutral and, like a robot, simply hand the customer thirteen pounds of paper, or should the professional learn what it takes to empower a blind person and then do his or her very best to influence positively the choice the customer makes? At the Arizona rehabilitation seminar referred to above, RSA Commissioner Schroeder answered this question directly and unequivocally. "A rehabilitation professional," he said, "absolutely has an appropriate role to play in the choice process by giving the very best information he or she can possibly provide. . . . The professional ought not to remain silent on the issue of the type of services which will empower the customer. . . . The professional ought truly to help the individual to make an informed choice. . . . Informed choice does not mean that a professional must simply sit passively when a customer comes in and says, `This is what I want,' and think, `That's a terrible idea, but under choice I'm not allowed to say anything. . . .' That is nonsense. That is not at all what choice is about. That type of behavior will simply get you about thirteen pounds of meaningless paper." The second question has to do with the role, if any, which the organized blind movement should rightfully play in the process of choice. Should the NFB have any role? Yes. In addition to doing his or her very best to direct the new customer toward training which will lead to empowerment, the blindness professional who understands and is truly committed to full empowerment will also routinely refer that new customer to the local chapter of the National Federation of the Blind. The new customer needs successful blind role models, and he or she also needs a support group. Further, that new customer needs the inspiration and encouragement which flow naturally from being a part of the collective community of successful blind people. Let me be very clear about the point I am making here. Some VR agencies bring in a speaker every month or two to talk to new customers for a half hour or so about his or her organization of the blind. This is not what I am talking about. The entire point of this article is that we have come to the place in history where the seventy-percent unemployment rate among the blind is absolutely unacceptable. If we are interested in successful outcomes, we must deal with the world as it is, not with fiction. We must recognize and accept the reality that the mere fact that a person has become blind did not bring with it great insight into blindness. Therefore choice in a vacuum is pointless. The very best way for that new customer to have a real chance to exercise choice meaningfully is to associate with people who have themselves been through the process and who can therefore give perspective and meaningful opinions, informed opinions. The views of these veteran VR customers will be based upon the experiences- -both the good and the bad--which they and their friends have had. The new customer can then judge for him- or herself whether those experiences are relevant--whether those experiences relate or at least partially relate to the goals and ambitions he or she has. A friend here in Tucson tells a great story on this point. He became blind overnight in Illinois, and he needed help since he knew nothing about blindness. He quickly applied for VR services, and within two days a VR counselor (a blind person) came to my friend's home to see him. Among other things the counselor said, "It is critical that you meet and associate yourself with other blind people. Here is information about both the American Council of the Blind and the National Federation of the Blind. Check them out, and join something so you can learn from other blind people." My friend ultimately visited and then joined the NFB. He says that, while VR gave him some home teaching and other services, it was through the NFB that his road to empowerment began in earnest. To close the loop on what I'll call the empowerment circle, the next step is for that new customer to become actively involved in the NFB. His or her personal empowerment will truly be completed by getting involved and helping to make life better for all blind people. Soon this new individual will be the veteran inspiring and encouraging and giving hope to yet another, newer member. This new role for the customer will, in and of itself, be empowering, since one can gain much by giving back. The unbiased rehabilitation professional with no axes to grind will encourage such activity. The Director of the Louisiana Center for the Blind, Joanne Wilson, reports dramatic VR outcomes when the empowerment loop has been closed through active participation in the NFB. An informal study (a formal one will be conducted later) reveals that 97 percent of her students are successful when they become actively involved in the NFB after completing training. The secret of how best to empower the blind has long been known. The truth about blindness is known, the techniques for instilling that truth in the new customer are known, and the question of how to deal appropriately with the negative public attitudes about blindness is known. All of this has been tried, tested, and proven over and over again. What remains is for large numbers of professionals in the field of work with the blind who operate from the empowerment motive to learn about and become committed to full empowerment for their blind customers. Only then will they be able to pass on accurate information so that rank-and-file customers can make truly informed choices about their lives. Those who have mistakenly believed that the concept of informed choice gives the customer the right to pick and choose only certain parts of a particular program obviously focus only upon the word "choice." As we have seen in this article, however, the word, "informed," is of at least equal significance. A choice without information and perspective--an uninformed choice--is utterly meaningless. Even worse, it may be devastating to the success and well-being of the customer. ***************************************************************** Pooled Income Gifts In this plan money donated to the National Federation of the Blind by a number of individuals is invested by the NFB. Each donor and the NFB sign an agreement that income from the funds will be paid to the donor quarterly or annually. Each donor receives a tax deduction for the gift; the NFB receives a useful donation; and the donor receives income of a specified amount for the rest of his or her life. For more information about the NFB pooled income fund, contact the National Federation of the Blind, Special Gifts, 1800 Johnson Street, Baltimore, Maryland 21230-4998, phone (410) 659-9314, fax (410) 685- 5653. ***************************************************************** [PHOTO/CAPTION 7: Ed Cohen stands with a Kenyan woman behind the table displaying the equipment he brought to Kenya with him.] A Visit to Kenya, East Africa by Ed Cohen From the Editor: Ed Cohen is a member of the Indianapolis Chapter of the NFB of Indiana. The following story of his trip to Kenya and his activities on behalf of blind people there appeared in the Winter, 2000, issue of the Hoosier Federationist, the publication of the NFB of Indiana. Here it is: Little did I realize when our daughter Angela announced her desire to be a Peace Corps volunteer in sub-Saharan Africa how much impact it would have on me and, indeed, on Africa. Less than a month after she graduated from the University of Kentucky with a degree in Forestry, she left for her two-year assignment in Kenya, East Africa. During her first year there my wife Karen and I decided to visit her. After all, how often do you have a chance to visit one of your children and go to Africa at the same time? Angela lives in a little wooden house outside Bomet, a small town in western Kenya not far from the Masaii Mara National Game Preserve. She lives much like her neighbors, who have no electricity, telephone, or running water. Her bathroom is a mere twenty steps from her side door. Yes, it is in a lovely location, but our only communication with her is by the post--what we call the mail. It takes about two weeks for a letter to arrive. E-mail and phone calls are a welcome treat but a rare luxury. As we discussed our possible plans, I asked Angela if she ever saw blind people in her area. She said that she had not but would do some investigating. While asking around, she learned that the Kenyan Union of the Blind had a chapter in her area. When she spoke to them, they said that they would be pleased to meet a blind person from America. This had the possibility of turning into a great opportunity. I contacted our state president, Ron Brown, and discussed the idea of taking canes and Braille materials with me on the trip. We also agreed that we should make sure that we left behind the idea of making canes using local materials. He was all for it, so we began to put ideas together. At our next monthly meeting members of the Indianapolis chapter enthusiastically supported the idea and offered to pitch in with various donations of canes, slates and styluses, and Braille-teaching books. The state affiliate donated a dozen NFB folding canes and twenty extra tips. Rounding out the package were spare bungee cord, Kernel books, the book on Dr. Jernigan's life, and a muffin tin with six tennis balls. The last item was a great Braille teaching aid I had seen at a NOPBC [National Organization of Parents of Blind Children] meeting at our last state convention. We knew that the Kenyans would need training in the use of their new canes. Though I use a long white cane, I am not an O&M [orientation and mobility] instructor. However, our Indianapolis chapter is fortunate to have Ron Brown and Mike Neese as members. They are recent graduates of the Louisiana Tech master's degree program in Orientation and Mobility in cooperation with the Louisiana Center for the Blind. With their help I felt prepared to impart the basics the Kenyans would need to know to get them started. The day before Halloween we bid farewell to the USA and began our adventure. After nine hours of flying, we landed in Amsterdam. Here we spent two wonderful days exploring the city on foot and by canal boat. The long stopover helped us adjust to the many time zone changes and gave us a splendid peek at a European city, our first taste, but hopefully not our last. After another eight-hour flight we arrived in Nairobi, Kenya. At last we were with Angela, whom we had not seen in one-and-a-half years. The first week we went on a safari, which is Swahili for "trip." With the skillful aid of a Kenyan driver/guide we had the pleasure of traveling to four different game parks. Throughout our safari we were amazed and delighted with Kenya and its wildlife. Being close to and seeing such creatures as elephants, lions, and buffalo in their natural setting was a thrill of a lifetime. At the end of the safari we moved into the second week and phase of our trip. We rented a small jeep, and Angela drove us to her home. Living in America, we don't realize how different our life is from that of the rest of the world. Good roads, directional signs, and reasonable drivers are not something Kenya is over-burdened with. We also learned it is possible to be comfortable without all the modern conveniences that we all take for granted. For example, we learned how little water you actually need to brush your teeth or even to wash your body when you have to boil all the water first. The morning came when we were to meet with the local blind group. Even though I had a plan and am comfortable speaking in front of groups and Angela had prepared us for various possibilities, I did have some butterflies. We drove into Bomet and down the dirt road that led to collections of one- story, concrete-block municipal buildings. We pulled up to one where a number of people were milling around. We three carried our packs, bags, and boxes into the long room and began to organize and spread everything out. Soon we met Ruth, who provides various services to the handicapped in this area. We learned that, for the purpose of receiving services, the blind were combined with all others with any sort of disability. We were also introduced to Wilson Kipkururi. Wilson is the chairman of the Bomet Chapter of the Kenyan Union of the Blind. We learned that his area includes a number of other towns and local chapters. He informed us that officers of several of those chapters were present and would later get a chance to speak. As the time to begin approached, the horseshoe-shaped table was filled with over a dozen men and women. The men were all in suits or sport coats while the women were in brightly colored dresses. The one obviously missing item was their long white canes. At last the program began. This part of Kenya is populated by members of the Kipsigi tribe. They of course speak Kipsigi, which I do not. Therefore, a translator was an integral part of the program for the next three hours. After Karen, Angela, and I were introduced, I was given the floor. I began by explaining that I brought greetings from the President of the National Federation of the Blind of Indiana. Indiana, I mentioned, was a state near the center of the United States. I then read a letter I had brought from our state president. It was well received, which I took as a good omen for the rest of the program. After this the pace picked up a bit. About nine of the twelve people present were blind--about half totally. The others were here on behalf of a blind person. They had heard that canes were going to be distributed at the program and seemed excited at the prospect. We had purchased canes in three different lengths, so we had to match them as best we could with those who were to receive them. With much explanation and assistance, we passed out the canes. Try to imagine a dozen blind people standing in a row and opening their folding canes for the very first time. The look of joy on their faces was a wonderful sight, not to mention the gasps and laughter as the canes came tumbling open on their own. The second part of the program was devoted to presenting the basics of using their long white canes. With help from all of those present who were not receiving a cane, and much one-on-one assistance, we managed a couple of turns around the room. The group of onlookers staring in from the open front door let me know that a dozen blind people moving in a circle, using their newly acquired long-white-cane skills, was a rare sight in these parts. Yet the broad grins on some of the faces of those using their canes told me it was an important and special moment. Once everyone returned to their seats, we moved on to the third and final portion of my part of the program--the making of canes. During our planning we had recognized that I could not bring enough canes or even tips to meet their needs. The Kenyans should and would have to make more canes using local materials. A cane designed and built by Kenyans specifically for their unique conditions would be a key to their continuing to make progress. All this is not to say that no one in attendance that day already had a cane. A couple of locally made canes were present. One was a stick, curved at the top into a "U" that came up to the short man's belt. They found my term for it, the "navel-stick" very funny once the translator got finished with it. I can't help wondering what he actually called it. The other cane was carried by a tall man. It came up to his ear and was as big around as my wrist. I commented that it was more a weapon than a cane. After the translation of my comment it seemed, based upon the nods and laughter, that many agreed with my assessment. I urged people to examine the metal tips and screws that I had brought as repair parts or as a starting point. If makers used locally available bamboo and other woody materials, canes that were light, strong, inexpensive, and attractive could be fashioned to the exact needs of the user. Pointing out the possibility that blind people elsewhere in Kenya might want canes that they could produce and sell caused a ripple of interest that I hope may blossom. The program closed with Wilson's speaking and asking many people present to speak as well. Speaker after speaker expressed deep gratitude for our donation of resources and time. I learned that there are approximately 200,000 blind Kenyans. Rehabilitation and training services are few and far between. I also learned that our dozen canes alone represented a significant monetary donation when calculated in Kenyan shillings, the local currency. The most heartening comments were made by Wilson. All Federationists would be pleased to hear that in this small town in western Kenya the blind believe that with proper training and opportunity they can lead self-reliant, productive lives. I walked out of that building with the profound feeling that many lives had been touched that day. Far more than the transfer of some canes and training had taken place. The outpouring of gratitude and well wishes to the NFB could be felt in the air. We had touched each other through our common desire for the advancement of opportunities for the blind. For ten more days we continued to soak in the sights, sounds, and smells of Kenya. Yet throughout that time my mind kept turning back to the men and women I had met in that small concrete-block building that day. Our visit with Angela continued for another week and a half; the last week was spent on the coast near Mombasa. It gave us a chance to relax and think. I am now back home in Indianapolis, and the demands of work and family again arise to occupy my mind and time. Yet I think about and wonder what is happening to the blind Kenyans I met. What sort of life will they have? Was our meeting worth the effort? Would our donations result in any positive changes in their lives? During Angela's remaining time in Kenya she will monitor the group and report back on what impact we had. Even after she leaves, the address on the letter from Ron that we left will be a link to us. I sincerely hope that from this small event greater things can occur. Only time will tell. I feel a link was established between our two worlds. They now know that there are people on the other side of the planet who care for them and wish them success. On those long white canes we placed small stickers stating that they came from the NFB of Indiana. We can all share in the knowledge that a small part of the NFB was planted in the small Kenyan town of Bomet that day. [PHOTO/CAPTION 8: Steve Benson] First Down and the Field! by Stephen O. Benson From the Editor: Steve Benson led a varied and active childhood. In the following story he recollects the fun he had playing football with both neighborhood friends and fellow students. In the first group he was the only blind kid; in the second the whole group of players were blind. The teams worked out reasonable and fair rules, and everyone had a good time. Today Steve does public relations and public education for the National Library Service program in Illinois. He is also President of the NFB of Illinois and a member of the National Federation of the Blind Board of Directors. This is what he says: Football was a game I learned to play upon my arrival at the blind school, Alexander Graham Bell School in Chicago. All the kids who played were blind or legally blind, with one notable exception. Our version of the game applied National Football League rules to touch football. Blocking was allowed in this version, which, I learned later, was neither accepted nor acceptable practice in the touch football game played in my neighborhood primarily with sighted kids. At Bell School, when the ball was put into play, the ball carrier had to call-- make some audible noise. Failure to call resulted in a penalty. In the neighborhood game that rule was inserted only after I began to play regularly. The playing field at school was a concrete sidewalk laid out in six foot squares. At one end of the playing area was a short flight of stairs leading into the school. The other end of the field was marked by the end of the school auditorium, which stood on one side of the field. The playing field at home varied. Sometimes it was an alley with telephone poles as goal line markers. Sometimes the playing surface was the street with a sewer cover or parked car or lamp post designated as the goal line marker. Occasionally we actually played on a park field or in a DePaul University parking lot--the latter, of course, when university classes were not in session. Whatever field we played on, we seldom had line markers, so mostly there were no first downs. The offensive team had to cover the length of the field in four downs. Occasionally a team would punt on fourth down, but more often than not fourth down was a straight play or a fake punt. The neighborhood games tended to be more wide open. We usually played with three to five men on a side. Since the field of play at Bell School was smaller, punts and kick-offs were thrown, and we played with a large, round inflated rubber ball. The shape of the ball allowed better control, and the bounce was more true. We used a standard football in the neighborhood game because the fields were larger and kicking was allowed. I never mastered the drop kick. I held the ball by one end, pointed down low in front of me, and kicked away. I guess I was about as good and about as consistent as most of my peers, which wasn't very good or consistent. Whether at school or in the neighborhood, I played every position but receiver. I couldn't see the ball to catch it, not even the big rubber ball we used at school. More often than not I played quarterback in the neighborhood. Receivers ran down field and called a code word when they were open to receive a pass. I should point out that we used stop-and-go patterns, slant plays, down- and-out patterns, and a variety of other plays. Each pattern had its own code words: colors, animals, street names, and so on. The field at school was small, and we were all very familiar with all of its quirks and characteristics. The neighborhood fields presented other challenges. If I had the opportunity, I would walk the field before starting play. If there were any unusual obstacles on the playing area, my friends would tell me about them: holes, puddles, mounds, trenches, cars or other vehicles, etc. Being familiar with the topography of the field was useful when I was required to execute a running play or when I played defense and had to chase an opponent. Recently I had dinner with two of my childhood friends, Nick and Tom. Nick remembered one particular play as we reminisced about our childhood games. As quarterback I dropped back to pass. Nick was open and called for the ball, straight down the field. I threw; he looked over his right shoulder; the ball went over his left shoulder, bounced into the street, and was run over by a truck; end of game. It may have been the longest pass I ever threw, and it was punctuated by a loud pop. Now for the notable exception to the practice of all blind kids playing football at Bell School. Teachers decided at some point that it would be a good idea to have an eighth-grade boy participate in our recess and lunchtime games. So an eighth grade boy, Jim, joined our games. Now our football games were physical, and the kids often became pretty aggressive. After the first week of football season Jim bailed out; he said we were too rough. After he withdrew from the activity, no other sighted student was assigned. I guess the faculty and administration concluded that we didn't need a baby sitter, or nobody was willing to take on the challenge of participating in our fun. The modifications to football were our own. The techniques that did not work were abandoned, and we tried new ones. If some technique seemed to give unfair advantage to one team or another or to kids with a little vision, it too was rejected. Nobody sustained serious injury, but bumps and bruises were commonplace. Making our own rules for the competition was as important to us blind kids as doing so is to sighted kids. We understood the value of it all, and we had a lot of fun playing, even into our twenties and early thirties in some cases. Recalling the plays and the funny circumstances surrounding their execution is probably as much fun now as playing was thirty or more years ago. [PHOTO/CAPTION 9: Gail Bryant] Another Federationist at Work: Gail Bryant Honored From the Editor: Every time a blind person ventures out into the world, he or she teaches others something about blindness. Sometimes we wish those lessons had not been taught, and sometimes the lessons are wonderful demonstrations of ability, good sense, and dedication. The following article came from Ed Bryant, the President of the Diabetes Action Network and Editor of the Voice of the Diabetic. In this case he is also the proud husband of a dedicated Federationist who was recently honored. The NFB is mentioned only once, but our philosophy and view of the world shine in every sentence. The piece was written by Qingchun Guo and Holly Surbaugh and appeared in the March 2, 2000, issue of the Columbia Missourian. Teaching the Blind Gail Bryant teaches people to read and write. Her students range from grade-schoolers to senior citizens. They receive one-on-one instruction in school or in their homes. They are also blind or visually impaired. So is Bryant. Bryant recently received the Missouri Small Business Development Center's 1999 Excellence in Business Award for her small enterprise, Columbia Braille Teaching Services. Her first reaction when she heard the news was utter astonishment. "I was shocked, flabbergasted, because I was just out there doing my job," Bryant said, "I don't think of myself as extraordinary. I don't think of my job as extraordinary, and I don't treat my students as extra-special or extraordinary." Others, however, find her accomplishments impressive. "She inspires everyone she meets, both those who assist her and those she assists," said Lil Ferrell, a former SBDC counselor/instructor who helped Bryant start her business. Blind from birth, Bryant's disability has worked to her advantage in connecting with her students. She not only teaches blind and visually impaired people Braille but also trains them in computer software and home management skills. Hers is the only such business in the state to serve both children and adults. Bryant started when the Rehabilitation Services for the Blind, a subdivision of the Jefferson City Department of Social Services, sought individual contractors to teach the blind. "I really didn't think it would grow into a full-fledged business," Bryant said. "As things developed, it sort of mushroomed." With Ferrell's help Bryant jumped through the typical hoops for starting a new business. She came up with a business plan and scouted for potential clients at local schools. She also hired a driver and completed training in using and teaching Window-Eyes, computer software designed for the visually impaired. "Really, she was just like another client starting a business," Ferrell said. Funds from Rehabilitation Services for the Blind helped supply equipment and start-up costs. "Ms. Bryant is an excellent example of a professional business person and a successful instructor," said Jim Brinkman, a counselor at Rehabilitation Services for the Blind. Bryant got her first client in mid-1997. Since those first lessons Bryant has taught visually impaired adults and children to deal with more than one kind of blindness. She often finds herself educating school teachers, staff, and families in the right way to work with blind people. She said the most difficult part of her job is changing the attitudes that the blind cannot have meaningful lives and that they require special treatment. "A lot of my job is teaching confidence," Bryant said. "I have to come in and work with them, and I have to do it so that the child, the parent, and the school can all maintain a certain level of dignity and respect." Bryant still struggles for that same respect herself as a fledgling entrepreneur. "I'm not taken seriously," Bryant said. "In some circles I'm just this nice lady who comes to teach little Johnny Braille." Bryant hopes this award will add to her credibility, but she will not rest on its strength alone. She has also just commissioned a new marketing brochure, and she is considering enrolling in college classes to get Department of Elementary and Secondary Education certification in her field. The former housewife already has a master's of education in rehabilitation counseling. Her advocacy work with the National Federation of the Blind and volunteer service, such as working with battered women at The Shelter, has given her a wealth of experience. And her background in counseling has given her skills she now uses to get her message across to anyone who would doubt a blind person's capability. "Anybody who has a child, regardless of their handicap or disability, should not be afraid if they want their child to go to a public school," Bryant said. "It should never be viewed as a statement of hopelessness or helplessness. By the same token, if there is someone who is newly blind as an adult, they shouldn't be afraid to ask for help." [PHOTO/CAPTION 10: Bruce Gardner] The White Cane by Guy M. Masters From the Editor: What impact do we have on other people? Often we never know. One of the things blind people who travel independently learn to live with is the fact that people watch us. We can be minding our own business, doing what needs to be done, but just the fact that we are doing that can have effects we never know about. When Bruce Gardner was a student, he met a man at a party one night, and the experience made a difference in the way that man viewed both blind people and sighted. Guy Masters wrote the following article about the experience and its impact more than twenty years ago. As far as we can tell, it was not published at the time, but Bruce Gardner came across a copy of it a few months ago and passed it along. Here it is: It was a cold January day, and the snow was falling lightly. From the large window on the fourth floor of the library I looked out across a snow-covered campus. Students bundled up in ski jackets and heavy winter coats hurried carefully on the icy sidewalks to classes and study areas. A chill ran through me and I shivered suddenly as the cold penetrated through the window. The crowd of students thinned as the bell rang for classes to begin. As I scanned the scene, I was entranced by the peaceful and silent spell cast by winter--it felt good to take a break from my studies. Suddenly my attention was drawn to a lone figure hesitantly making his way down one of the sidewalks. He was noticeably slower than the other students bustling by him. He was dressed warmly--his brown corduroy jacket was buttoned full-length, and a knitted scarf hung loosely about his neck. His blue backpack, bulging from the books it contained, was placed squarely on his back, leaving his gloved hands free. In his right hand he firmly held a white cane, which he extended directly in front of him. As he walked forward he moved the cane in a pattern from side to side, tapping it gently and searchingly. But then, for some reason, he stopped. The white probe tapped forward in several directions. Obviously something was wrong. The snow and ice were making it impossible for the young man to determine by his usual method where the sidewalk was. My heart went out to him as he intensely searched for some familiar sound-- a clue to the right way. Several students passed him on either side, but none seemed aware of the dilemma he faced. He moved forward slowly, now approaching the middle of the intersecting point of two large pathways. I was relieved, for he appeared to be regaining his bearings. Now more confident, my friend began to walk forward again, but because of the undiscernible path, he had drifted off course by just a few steps. He was heading directly off the pathway. My heart jumped--"Watch out for that pole!" I almost yelled out in the silence of the library. I wanted to bang on the window, but he would not have heard me--I was too far away. I pounded my fist on the window sill. "Somebody down there grab him! Can't you see he needs help?" I cried out within myself. He was headed straight for the lamp post. Then the cane hit the post, and immediately he halted. He moved the cane to the other side and tapped the lamp post there. He paused and thought briefly. "The cane, of course!" I thought, and let out a sigh of relief. As if he knew exactly where he was, he backed up, took three steps to the left, and turned ninety degrees. He was standing directly in the center of the proper path. I continued to watch. Fully oriented and self-assured, he proceeded down the sidewalk again. The cane was swinging rhythmically as if beating time to his steps. He knew exactly where he was and where he was going. When he was just about out of my view, he stopped again. Reaching to his scarf, he tightened it more securely about his neck, then steadily continued on. He disappeared among the other students, as though nothing unusual had occurred. For several minutes after the young man disappeared, I stayed by the window and reflected. I remembered the first time I had met a blind person, exactly a year ago while attending a birthday party for a friend. I had been advised beforehand that a blind fellow had also been invited. During the evening of the party I had difficulty determining who the individual was. Then I met Bruce, the supposed blind person. He was teaching a group of us the dance steps to the West Coast Swing, Latin Hustle, and several other dances. I was particularly impressed by his grooming--his clothes were meticulously pressed and coordinated. Bruce was tall and very handsome. I watched Bruce carefully as the evening progressed, intrigued by his confidence and composure. When the party was over, Bruce needed a ride to his home across town, and I immediately volunteered. I was eager to talk with him alone. As we left, Bruce stepped into the kitchen and picked up a white cane, which had been placed in a corner for most of the evening. We left the apartment, and I had to quicken my step just to keep pace with Bruce. Once alone, I turned to him and bluntly asked, "Why do you carry that cane around?" He turned toward me and said, "Because I'm blind." In unbelief I retorted, "Come on! How can you do what you were doing in there and still tell me that?" He smiled at my questions, but he could tell that I was serious. He explained that most people who are visually handicapped are not 100 percent without sight. Some can differentiate light and darkness and even discern forms to varying degrees. "We develop sight by other means and by concentrating on other senses," he explained. I was fascinated by Bruce. The more we talked, the more I began to see things from his viewpoint. He radiated confidence, joy of life, and extreme faith. It was as if, in developing his other senses, he had also developed the ability to communicate spirit to spirit. As we proceeded toward his home, Bruce told me more about himself, his lifestyle, and his ambitions. I asked another question, "Bruce, what is the biggest problem you face being blind?" He thought momentarily. "The biggest problems are the misconceptions that people have about the handicapped. Most don't realize that a handicapped individual is a normal person. Inside, we're just like anyone else." The clarity with which he perceived my previous misconceptions was disarming. Excitement grew within me as we talked. I had never really understood handicapped people before. Lacking understanding, I had always conveniently avoided getting too close--I felt awkward, not knowing how to cope with circumstances that might arise. I had never taken the opportunity to get too near. But my perspective was changing suddenly. I turned my VW into the driveway of Bruce's home and rolled to a stop. I turned to Bruce, looked at him for a moment, and said softly, "This has been an interesting evening for me, Bruce." I couldn't find better words to express my feelings. I wanted to hug him. Spontaneously we grasped hands in a firm and communicating handshake. "We'll see you later," he said. Bruce opened the car door, got out, and walked up the driveway toward his home. He reached the large white front doors, reached for the handle, and opened the door slightly. Pausing for an instant, he turned and looked toward me. I flashed my high beam lights, and Bruce waved goodbye. He pushed the door open and disappeared inside. The large door closed gently behind him. For a moment I sat in silence. My heart was full. I blinked forcefully several times to fight back the tears. I had made a true friend--a courageous brother. I backed my car out of the driveway and started toward my home. "How can he be so happy?" I questioned myself. Bruce had seemed to be more confident and happy than many other people I knew. But how could this be with his handicap? I searched for answers to these questions. If he was so positive and composed even with his handicap, certainly I had reason to be more so. But I was learning from him; he was helping me to see with proper perspective. I kept going over Bruce's words in my mind: "A handicapped individual is a normal person--we're just like anyone else...." I was now back at my book-covered desk in the library, thinking again of the young man I had watched from the library window. He too had carried a white cane--the cane that Bruce had taught me was a symbol of courage, of endurance, of independence, and of faith. Just as I use my eyes to see the physical world around me, my friends had also learned to perceive the same things by using different means. But they had helped me see that knowledge, confidence, and understanding do not come by sight alone; they are the products of persistence, determination, awareness, sensitivity, and reliance upon the Lord. I had learned that the most obvious things can often be the most difficult to see. [PHOTO/CAPTION 11: Barbara Pierce irons a shirt sleeve] This is the Way We Wash Our Clothes by Barbara Pierce >From the Editor: The following article appeared in Remember to Feed the Kittens, the sixteenth in the NFB's Kernel Book series of paperbacks. It begins with Dr. Maurer's introduction: As regular Kernel Book readers know, Barbara Pierce is President of the National Federation of the Blind of Ohio, the mother of three grown children, the wife of a college English professor, an accomplished homemaker, and the writer of delightful stories that sparkle with wit and wisdom. Her current offering is no exception. Here is what she has to say: Do you recall the children's song called, I seem to remember, "This is the Way We Wash Our Clothes"? In successive verses singers work their way through the days of the week demonstrating with motions the way we wash our clothes, iron our clothes, mend our clothes, sweep the floor, and bake the bread. With the ironing board and the broom nearly extinct today and the bread machine creating most of the fresh bread in modern homes, perhaps children no longer take delight in singing this little tune. On the other hand, I had very little idea of what a wash board was when I was a child, yet we vigorously mimed washing our clothes on a wash board. It never occurred to us to wonder where the washing machine had disappeared to in the song. I had a bit of vision when I was a small child, but not enough to pick up the motions that went with the song by observing the leader or the other children. My mother carefully taught me how to move my hands and arms and also what those motions represented. I suspect I may have been the only child in my group who knew that those pushing gestures in the Thursday verse represented kneading the bread. But Mother wasn't satisfied simply to teach me to go through the motions of taking care of a home; she insisted that I learn how to be an effective member of the family. Once I overcame my initial annoyance at being forced to do chores around the house, I have always been grateful that she invested the effort to teach me to be self-sufficient. How does one do the laundry without looking at the job? The secret of efficient clothes washing is proper sorting. But how does a blind person accurately sort colors and fabrics? The answer is by touch. My first laundry task as a small child was to collect my father's dress shirts for their trip to the laundry, where the collars could be starched stiff, the way Dad liked them. I liked the stiff collars too, because it was easy to find them quickly in the dirty clothes hamper. The rest of the laundry got sorted on the basement floor. Underwear and sheets could go together. Jeans, wash pants, and boys' and men's socks formed the basis of another pile. Obviously delicate fabrics made a third stack. With those things out of the way, I was left with all the pieces that might be light colored or might be dark. There was nothing to do but learn to identify them. I quickly discovered that I already knew the colors of my own clothes. I knew what I had worn in recent days and thrown into the wash. For the rest of the family I had to memorize the colors by identifying texture, buttons, and location of pockets and zippers. In the early days Mother checked to see that I had sorted the loads correctly, but eventually we learned to trust my own decisions. After all, if I really wasn't sure in which pile a garment belonged, I could leave it out for later consultation. Naturally I had to learn the hard way to check for crayons in pockets. But all of us have discovered to our sorrow what happens when a red crayon melts in the dryer all over a load of light-colored clothes. Actually, throughout all the years of laundry for my own three children, I had surprisingly few of these catastrophes. This is undoubtedly because my fingers pay close attention to information like a bit of extra weight or a hard object in a pocket under several layers of cloth. Like every other washing machine in the nation, mine has always tended to eat socks. I cannot imagine where so many single socks can disappear in a load of wash. Before I discovered the solution to this problem, we had a designated orphan drawer in our house. All unmated socks that came through the wash went into that drawer. In an emergency a desperate child could usually assemble a passable pair of socks from the extras. Then I decided to take radical action. I couldn't match a dryer full of single socks anyway, so I put a bowl of safety pins in the bathroom and told everybody to pin socks together before they went into the laundry baskets. I promised that, if socks were pinned, they would be returned to the owner folded together. If they went through the wash one by one, they would be dumped into the orphan drawer. Everyone soon learned that it was simpler to pin the socks together than to brave the sock drawer in search of something to wear. I said earlier that the ironing board is almost extinct in America. I certainly don't iron nearly as much as my mother did or as I did when I was a kid. But mine still gets a fair workout, even today. Partly this is because I have the luxury of a laundry room on the second floor. It is a converted sun porch. When we first moved to our home, built in 1891, I found myself carrying laundry from the bathroom at the back of the second floor to the staircase at the front of the house and then back to the basement steps at the rear of the first floor. Our house is large--thirteen rooms--and our then toddler was frightened to be left alone while I went off to feed the washer and dryer. So I usually carried not only the dirty clothes but also the squirmy baby whenever I made this extended trip. It was great exercise, but I began to have fantasies about having the washer and dryer on the second floor. That is where they have been now for twenty years, and it is a lovely arrangement. The only drawback is that I am tempted to toss a load into the washer late in the evening and into the dryer just before tumbling into bed. The result is wrinkles. Actually I rather enjoy ironing. I don't burn myself more than occasionally. The iron radiates enough heat to tell my left hand exactly where it is. With just a bit of practice it is easy to determine by touch whether the wrinkles have disappeared. And, if I accidentally press in a crease, a spritz of water allows me to press it out again. I fill my steam iron with distilled water to prevent stains from mineral deposits on the clothes. Using a funnel, I put the water into a clean dish- washing-liquid bottle. The nozzle lid on my recycled plastic bottle allows me to invert it over the iron's water well before opening the nozzle and squeezing out enough water to fill the iron. I can hear the well filling, but even if it overflows a bit, holding the iron flat for a moment allows it to spit out the excess before I put it down on the fabric. This is the way blind people wash our clothes and iron our clothes and take care of our families. Is it any different from the way other people do the job? Not really. The members of the National Federation of the Blind aren't amazing. There is nothing magic about learning to adjust to blindness. It takes a bit of time and some practice to train your fingers and ears to do the things that other people do with sight, but it can be done. We know because we've done it. [PHOTO/CAPTION 12: Chip Johnson and his jump instructor in free fall at the beginning of the jump] Blindness Can't Stop Skydivers by Mike Patty From the Editor: NFB adult training centers make a point of helping their students push their limits. Once you have succeeded at white-water rafting, rock climbing, carpentry, or single-handedly feeding forty people, you find it hard to picture yourself as incompetent and helpless. So, when several students began talking last winter to Colorado Center staff about their wish to go skydiving, it was hard to think of reasons for not doing it. Julie Deden, Center Director, didn't even try. In fact, she agreed to go along. After all, it's healthy now and then for everyone to push back the limitations we place on ourselves. So Colorado Center students and staff began making arrangements to go skydiving for the first time on April 15. Unfortunately, Mother Nature had other ideas. A mid-spring snow storm put an end to the outing, and it was rescheduled for Sunday, May 21. This time no snow appeared, so off the group went. I asked Julie Deden afterward whether she had enjoyed the experience. The best she could say was that she was glad she had done it. She had not been prepared for the noise during the free-fall portion of the jump. But if Julie Deden was less than euphoric about the experience personally, others in the group made up for it with their enthusiasm and delight. The press, as well, found the notion of twenty-six blind people jumping out of an airplane worthy of some attention. Moreover, they got the story right. This was not a nine-days' wonder with no connection to good rehabilitation--this was part of an extraordinary program that enables blind people to regain their self-confidence and return to their lives as fully participating, contributing members of their families and communities. On Tuesday, May 30, MSNBC conducted a five-minute interview with Julie Deden and Buna Dahal, a member of the staff. It provided Julie and Buna an excellent opportunity to describe their experience and explain its value in the context of an effective rehabilitation program. The following is an article that appeared in the May 22, 2000, edition of the Rocky Mountain Times. Here it is: Twenty-six students and staff members of the Colorado Center for the Blind jumped Sunday from an airplane more than two miles above Longmont's Vance Brand Airport. They did it for the same reasons sighted people skydive: to test their character and for the plain thrill of it. Julie Deden, the center's executive director, said Sunday's jump at the Mile-Hi Skydiving Center was the first for all twenty-six. "As far as I know, it's the first time anywhere so many blind people have skydived on one day," Deden said. All made tandem jumps with Mile-Hi instructors. The idea for a skydiving outing came from David James, a recent graduate of the Colorado Center for the Blind. "I used to ride Harleys before I lost my sight two years ago," James said. "I can't do that anymore, but I miss the adrenaline rush." James said losing his sight in his late forties nearly destroyed him. "There was a time when I would get up every morning and had to look hard for reasons not to put a bullet in my brain," James said. "But the people at the center knew what I was going through. I wouldn't have made it except for them. My first week at the center I had to hang sheet rock, cut a Christmas tree, and make quiche." Soon, James said, he regained his sense of hope. "I learned how to do all the things required of living," James said. "I figured, if others can do it, so can I." Eddie Culp, a blind instructor at the center, was the first one out of the plane Sunday. "At first there was a tremendous rush, then it felt like I was floating in a dream," Culp said. "It was over too soon." Culp said it is important for blind people to push their limits and learn to overcome self-doubt. "Most of life is about believing in yourself," Culp said. "My philosophy is don't let fear put out the fire." Laura Connors, who lost her sight sixteen months ago, said she had long fantasized about skydiving. "It was always in the back of my mind if I had the guts to do it," Connors said. "When I had the opportunity, I didn't want to let it pass." Connors said it got very scary at the door of the airplane over the drop zone. "But I did what you do when you are scared: just take some deep breaths and do it," Connors said. [PHOTO/CAPTION 13: Noel Nightingale] Of Milk Cartons and Belief by Noel Nightingale From the Editor: Since she wrote this story, which first appeared in Reflecting the Flame, Noel Nightingale has been elected to the NFB Board of Directors and become a mother. Last November she and her husband Jim became the parents of baby Lela. Beginning with Dr. Maurer's introduction, here is Noel Nightingale's contribution to the seventeenth Kernel Book: Noel Nightingale is President of the National Federation of the Blind of Washington. A competent young lawyer, she carries her share of the workload in the environmental law firm where she is employed. Her blindness has come gradually over a period of a number of years. In her story "Of Milk Cartons and Belief," she tells of her battle with the office milk cartons and what that battle taught her about her own blindness. Here is what she has to say: For several years I casually wondered how I would know which end of the milk carton to open when my failing vision finally prevented me from seeing the arrow on the carton indicating which end to open. Less casually, I often think about how I can make people with whom I work at ease with me and my blindness and, more basically, what I can do to make sure that I fit in. In the office where I work, we have a lunchroom. We have all sorts of amenities, from twenty-five-cent soda pop to free bottled fruit juices to gourmet coffee. In the lunchroom refrigerator are cartons of milk for use with coffee. The milk is shared communally among coworkers. Frequently, after I have poured my first cup of coffee in the morning, I reach into the refrigerator for some milk and find that there are no open cartons. During the first year or two of work I could vaguely see the arrow pointing to the end of the carton to open. As my sight rapidly degenerated, I often reminded myself that I needed to ask one of my blind friends how I would know which end of the carton to open when I could no longer see the arrow. It seems silly, but I did not want perpetually to open the wrong end of the carton, having then to turn the carton around and open the right end. Everyone in the office who also used milk in their coffee would undoubtedly know that it was the blind woman who could not manage to open the correct end of the milk carton. Silly or not, exceedingly self-conscious or not, I wanted to be able to open the right end of the carton on the first try. I had intended to ask one or two blind friends what their techniques were for opening milk cartons. The question had not, however, risen to the level of a priority by the time I actually needed to know the answer. One day I walked into the lunchroom and found that I could no longer tell which end of the carton had the arrow on it. I took a stab at opening the carton, and as I had feared, I opened the wrong end. For the next week or so it seemed as if I opened the wrong end more often than not. When I went back for that second cup of coffee, I would reach into the refrigerator and find the carton with both ends open. I heard it screaming, "That blind woman opened me!" Over time I experimented to determine whether one end of the carton was easier to open than the other. It is. Once I started paying attention to the feel of the carton as I tested each end for ease of opening, I found that it is actually quite easy to tell which end is the one that wants to open. It is no longer even a low-level issue percolating in the back of my mind. I have spoken with several older blind people who lost their sight late in life and who believe that they cannot operate a touch-button telephone because they are blind. They believe that they must be able to see the numbers to know which buttons to push. This is simply not true. I cannot see the numbers but use a telephone many, many times a day. Most blind people I know use the telephone as quickly and frequently as people who can see. There is no trick to dialing a telephone without being able to see the numbers. It is merely a matter of remembering where the number one key is and knowing how the keypad is organized. And it is not just blind people who memorize this information; sighted people instinctively, if not consciously, know this information as well. Why do these people who were blinded late in life believe that they cannot perform this daily task of living? Probably because they have dialed a telephone by using their sight most of their lives and cannot imagine that they can do it another way. Why did I believe that I could find a way to open milk cartons correctly? Through my membership in the National Federation of the Blind I have learned that I, as a blind person, can perform those small tasks of daily life as well as sighted people. I just need to approach those tasks differently from the way I did when I was sighted. Sometimes I need to use my imagination, try several methods, or ask my blind friends what their techniques are. I have also learned, through the National Federation of the Blind, that I can accomplish the larger tasks of life. I work; I am married; I own a home with my husband; and I am actively involved in my community. My activities have increased, not decreased, as I have lost more sight. Since I began opening milk cartons using my alternative technique, I have had several blind people point out to me that milk cartons come with indentations at the end of the carton that indicate which end should be opened. I had not noticed that before. There is usually more than one way to accomplish a task. The trick is believing that, one way or another, we can do it. I recently found a couple of cartons in the lunchroom refrigerator which had had both ends opened. No other blind people work with me, so it could only have been the handiwork of one of my sighted coworkers. I clearly did not need to feel so self-conscious about whether I opened the milk carton correctly. The real issue raised by my battle with milk cartons was my anxiety that, if I opened both ends, I would be seen as different from the rest of my coworkers. Of course, opening both ends of a milk carton would be the least of our differences. Most of the time I do things very differently from my coworkers because I use a long white cane, Braille, and special computer equipment. On the surface it appears that I have little in common with my sighted colleagues. The National Federation of the Blind has taught me that my blindness does not make me inferior to my sighted colleagues. It just means that I need to do things differently from the way they do. When I use the tools that blind people have developed, I am capable of working at the same level as my sighted peers. I still strive daily, though, to do everything I can subtly to show my colleagues that we have more in common than not. They may not think consciously about how to open a milk carton or dial a telephone, but then neither do I most of the time. [PHOTO/CAPTION 14: Jim and Sharon Omvig] You Can Do It, Too! Capital Campaigning Is Great Fun by Jim and Sharon Omvig From the Editor: Jim and Sharon Omvig were friends and colleagues of Dr. Jernigan for many years. Now they are dedicated capital campaign volunteers. Here they reflect on what they have learned about campaigning during the past several months. This is what they say: I am what I have often referred to as "one of the lucky ones." Having been born in the right place at the right time, I had the privilege of being one of Dr. Kenneth Jernigan's early students--in 1961. From that time until his death, we were more than teacher and student: we were colleagues in a movement. Sharon, too, became a committed member of the cause, but by a different entry path from mine. She went to work for Dr. Jernigan in 1964. Through the years one of the great joys in our lives was simply being in his presence and observing and marveling at his dreaming, planning, designing, and building. It is fair to say that, if he really wanted something to happen, it did. He made it happen! Although we now live some distance from Baltimore, throughout the last year and a half of his life, we saw Dr. Jernigan as often as we could. Even in that time of sadness seeing him yet again dreaming and planning and designing brought the same old feelings of joy and wonder. We will never forget the delight he got from showing us each and every detail of the model of the new National Center facility. Who can say whether this time he knew that he would not personally be able to complete the project by overseeing the actual construction himself but that, for this final dream, he would rely upon us to finish it. What we do know for an absolute certainty is that he did intend one way or another to complete the project. I wish that the Omvigs could say proudly that immediately after the 1999 Atlanta convention we rolled up our sleeves, took up the challenge, and went to work on the campaign; but I can't. Because of pending surgery and several prior commitments, we did not get started in the fall of 1999. Family illness and two deaths took us to Iowa for the winter, so we got started there. It's surprising. Once you make a commitment to yourself and begin seriously to work for the campaign, an amazing transformation occurs. All at once what seemed difficult and terribly time-consuming becomes challenging and inspiring--it becomes fun. For purposes of this article we would like to talk about three aspects of our work. First, (that is, after you are armed with accurate information about the new building), where do you get the names of people to approach? We have found that the best way to develop lots of possibilities is through some brainstorming. I can't tell you how many conversations I have had with Ramona Walhof. Every time we talk I think of new possibilities: "Oh, Mrs. Walhof, did I ever tell you I grew up with a boy from Roland, Iowa, who went on to become an All American basketball player. He does TV now, and he owns an oil business." Conversations like this with Mrs. Walhof, Dr. Maurer, Mrs. Jernigan, Mr. Connelly, or local chapter members lengthens the Omvigs' list every time. It is astonishing to realize the great number of people you know or at least people with whom you have significant ties when you really think about it. The second issue we would like to touch upon has to do with dear family members or very close personal friends. Should we approach them about giving? We wrestled briefly with this question ourselves, and we decided of course we do! We love them, and they love us. They already know that the NFB is central to our lives--it literally changed my (Jim's) life--and, because of this knowledge, they have great regard for the work of the NFB. Rather than being insulted by our asking, they would be more likely to be insulted if we did not ask. So naturally we have approached lots of family members and friends, and we'll approach many more. Some will want to give and are able to do it, and others will want to give but can't, at least right now. What is important is that we ask. The third thing we want to touch upon briefly is that dreaded outcome, disappointment. How do you handle that? Do you simply throw in the towel and quit when someone whom you counted on turns you down? Of course you do not quit. You simply move on. Lest you think that disappointing outcomes will happen only to you, not to the Omvigs, let me set the record straight. That very thing happened to us in Des Moines. Longtime friends said, "No." While it was disappointing, we heeded our own advice and moved on. We contacted other friends and went to visit with them, and we were successful in getting four people to make generous pledges. It just may be that, upon reflection in the future, the friends who turned us down will reconsider their decision and join with us in this exciting effort. We certainly hope so. These, then, are a few thoughts we want to share with you. We are committed, enthusiastic, and determined; and we do not intend to let Dr. Jernigan down. We hope you'll all join with us to turn his final dream, the National Research and Training Institute, into a spectacular reality. Have you made your campaign pledge yet? We need everyone's help. The construction cost of our projected National Research and Training Institute for the Blind is eighteen million dollars. Please take this opportunity to complete your pledge form. Without you our job will be just that much harder. The Campaign to Change What It Means to Be Blind Capital Campaign Pledge Intention Name:_______________________________________ Home Address:_______________________________ City, State, and Zip:_______________________ Home Phone: ________________________________ Work Phone:_________________________________ E-mail address:_____________________________ Employer:___________________________________ Work Address:_______________________________ City, State, Zip:___________________________ To support the priorities of the Campaign, I (we) pledge the sum of $___________. My (our) pledge will be payable in installments of $ __________ over the next ____ years (we encourage pledges paid over five years), beginning _____________, on the following schedule (check one): __ annually, __ semi- annually, __ quarterly, __ monthly I (we) have enclosed a down payment of $ ________________ ___ Gift of stock: _____________________ shares of _____________ ___ My employer will match my gift. Please list (my) our names in all campaign reports and on the Campaign Wall of Honor in the appropriate Giving Circle as follows: __ I (We) wish to remain anonymous. Signed: ________________________________ Date: __________________ Recipes This month's recipes were submitted by the NFB of Arizona. [PHOTO/CAPTION 15: Norma Robertson] Green Chili Con Carne by Norma Robertson Norma Robertson is the President of the NFB of Phoenix and a Member of the Board of Directors of the NFB of Arizona. Ingredients: 2 pounds diced stew meat 1 medium onion, finely diced flour for dredging salt and garlic to taste 1 can Ortega diced green chilies (not smallest size can; next size larger) 1 8-ounce can tomato sauce Method: Dice meat. Roll pieces of meat in flour. Season to taste with garlic and salt. Brown meat and add finely chopped onion and chilies. Continue to brown. Add tomato sauce and two cans of water (equal to about 2 cups of liquid). Bring to a rolling boil. Reduce heat to simmer and cover tightly for about forty-five minutes. Spanish Rice by Norma Robertson Ingredients: 1 cup long grain white rice 1 medium onion, chopped 1 medium bell pepper, chopped 1 8-ounce can tomato sauce Method: Brown rice in a small amount of shortening until it is nice and brown. Add onion and bell pepper and continue to stir a little. Then add can of tomato sauce and three cans of water. Season with salt, pepper, and garlic. Bring to a very fast boil. Let rice boil for about a minute. Reduce to a simmer and cover for twenty minutes. NOTE: Once you add the tomato sauce and water to rice and blend with other ingredients, do not stir again. Stirring will make the rice sticky and gummy. [PHOTO/CAPTION 16: Judy Tunell] Oven Cheese Fondue by Judy Tunell Judy Tunell is First Vice President of the NFB of Arizona and Second Vice President of the NFB of Phoenix. Ingredients: 10 slices sourdough bread 1 teaspoon salt 6 eggs 3 cups shredded cheddar cheese 3 cups milk 2 teaspoons parsley, finely chopped 1 teaspoon dry mustard 3 teaspoons onion, finely chopped, optional 2 cups cleaned, cooked shrimp (optional) Method: Heat oven to 325 degrees. Remove crusts from bread. Cut bread in cubes. Beat together eggs, milk, and seasonings. Stir in bread cubes, cheese, and onions. Pour mixture into ungreased 11-1/2-by-7-1/2-by-1-1/2-inch baking dish. Bake uncovered 1 hour until center is set. Makes eight servings. I frequently serve this as a brunch item with fresh fruit. It is also a good supper main dish item with tossed green salad, mixed vegetables, and fruit. Sometimes my family requests salsa on the side. The salsa adds a good, zesty taste. Turkey Cheese Enchilada Casserole by Judy Tunell 1/2 stick butter or margarine 3 cups cooked turkey or chicken 1 medium onion, chopped 1 dozen corn tortillas 1 can diced green chilies, cut into 1-inch strips 1 jar Old El Paso or other taco sauce 1 pound jack cheese shredded 1 pound cheddar cheese, shredded 1 can cream of mushroom soup 1 can cream of chicken soup 1 can consomme chicken broth Method: Melt butter in saucepan and add onion. Cook until tender. Add green chilies, taco sauce, soup, and turkey or chicken. Place layer of tortillas on bottom of 2-inch-deep casserole dish. Spread alternate layers of soup mixture, tortillas, and cheese. Repeat three layers twice more, making sure top layer is cheese. Bake at 350 degrees for thirty minutes to one hour, or until cheese is melted. Serves eight to ten. Tequila Cake by Judy Tunell Ingredients: 1 box yellow cake mix 4 eggs 1 3-1/2-ounce package pistachio, French vanilla, or plain vanilla instant pudding 1/2 cup plain sour cream 1/2 cup tequila 1/2 cup corn oil 1/4 cup orange liqueur glaze (optional) Method: Beat all ingredients except glaze for four minutes at medium speed in an electric mixer. Pour batter into a well greased and floured Bundt cake pan. Bake at 350 degrees for fifty-five minutes. Cool slightly on rack before removing from pan. If desired, while cake is still quite warm, spread glaze (1 cup confectioners sugar and 1 tablespoon orange liqueur) on cake. Serves twelve or more. Hot Cocoa Mix by Gerry Piatt Gerry Piatt is the Treasurer of the Tucson Chapter. Ingredients: 4 cups non-dairy creamer 1-1/2 teaspoon salt 2 cups cocoa 1-1/2 cup sugar or 32-ounce package sweetener 2 cups non-fat dry milk Method: Mix all ingredients thoroughly and carefully since the mixture is very powdery. Makes nine-and-a-half cups. Place in covered container. Use three heaping teaspoons to one cup very hot water. Dissolves best in water that has almost come to a boil. Adjust ingredients to suit taste. I like more cocoa and less sugar. [PHOTO/CAPTION 17: Toby LongFace] Peanut Butter Oatmeal Delights: Dog Treats by Toby LongFace Toby LongFace is President of the Tucson Chapter of the NFB of Arizona and a member of the affiliate's Board of Directors. Ingredients: 1 tablespoon honey 1 tablespoon baking powder 1 cup oatmeal 1 tablespoon molasses 2 tablespoons peanut butter 1 egg 1 cup corn meal peanuts (optional) Method: Mix all ingredients and add enough water to make dough moist and roll into a ball. Roll dough to a thickness of 1/2 inch. Cut with valentine cookie cutter. Bake at 300 degrees for forty-five minutes. Leave in oven till oven cools completely. Makes 115 small, heart-shaped delights. Good enough for people too. [PHOTO/CAPTION 18: Lee Kerr] Oyster Stew by Lee R. Kerr Lee Kerr is a member of the Board of Directors of the Tucson Chapter. Ingredients: 3 quarts milk 1 stick butter salt and pepper to taste 2 cans oyster parts Method: Place milk in large pot on stove and bring to a simmer. Add butter, salt, and pepper to taste. When butter is melted, add oysters and allow to simmer ten or fifteen minutes. Serve with oyster crackers. Quick Chili by Lee R. Kerr Ingredients: 1 bag Schilling chili mix 2 pounds ground beef 1 small can tomato sauce Method: Brown ground beef in large skillet. Drain grease. Add tomato sauce and chili mix. Add water. Allow to simmer until water has been reduced and mixture is at desired consistency. If You Can't Come to the Potluck Send the Casserole Anyway by Sharon Omvig Sharon Omvig is a longtime active Federationist in her own right. She is also the wife of NFB leader Jim Omvig. Ingredients: 1 cup cooked rice 1 7-ounce can diced green chilies 3 medium zucchini, sliced 1 large tomato, sliced 1 pound jack cheese, shredded 2 cups sour cream 1 teaspoon oregano 1 teaspoon garlic salt 2 tablespoons chopped green pepper 2 tablespoons chopped green onion 1 tablespoon parsley Method: Thinly slice and parboil zucchini. In a well-buttered large casserole dish, place cooked rice. Cover with chilies and half the cheese. Next layer zucchini and tomato. Mix sour cream with spices, green pepper, and onion, and pour over vegetables. Layer remaining cheese on top and sprinkle with parsley. Bake at 350 degrees for forty minutes. Serves eight unless everyone wants seconds. Monitor Miniatures APH and Talking Book Narrators Clash during Contract Negotiations: In recent weeks a long-standing dispute between the American Printing House for the Blind and its corps of professional readers has come into the open. The readers, who in 1998 affiliated with AFTRA (the American Federation of Television and Radio Artists of the AFL-CIO), have sought to negotiate for a new contract. According to the readers, the federal government issued three unfair labor practice complaints against APH during the collective bargaining process. Now APH has apparently refused altogether to deal with the union representative, arguing that Kentucky is a right-to-work state, so the Printing House is not required to recognize the union. The readers say that APH actually jeopardized its contract with the National Library Service and its entire recording program by threatening a lockout during negotiations. The readers request that those supportive of their position write to Dr. Tuck Tinsley to express their support for the readers and their eagerness for APH to negotiate in good faith with the union to achieve fair wages, even for part-time readers, and reasonable benefits. The contact information is Dr. Tuck Tinsley, President, American Printing House for the Blind, 1839 Frankfort Avenue, Louisville, Kentucky 40206-0085, Phone: (502) 895- 2405, Fax: (502) 899-2334. Elected: The NFB of Tennessee conducted its annual convention March 10 through 12. The following officers were elected: Michael Seay, President; Sandy Booher, First Vice President; Joel Tinning, Second Vice President; Lev Williams, Treasurer; Lynda Crisp, Secretary; and Reggie Lindsey, June Mangum, Melba Harding, and Clarence Manning, Jr., Board Members. New Chapter: Mark Riccobono, President of the NFB of Wisconsin, reports that on April 8, 2000, the twenty-fifth anniversary of the organizing of the Wisconsin affiliate, the Chippewa Valley Chapter of the NFB of Wisconsin was founded. The elected leaders of this new and energetic chapter are Lisa Hansen, President; Brad Hodges, Vice President; Brenda Cox, Secretary; and Joe Regnier, Treasurer. Congratulations to this new chapter. [PHOTO/CAPTION 19: Allison and Charlie Joyce] [PHOTO/CAPTION 20: Lynn and Michael Baillif dancing together at their wedding reception] Wedding Bells: On May 27, 2000, Allison Scheuermann, Assistant to the President of the National Federation of the Blind, and Charles Joyce were married in Baltimore. A week later Lynn Mattioli, Past President of the Baltimore Chapter, and Michael Baillif, a tax attorney with Ernst and Young in Washington, D.C., were also married in Baltimore. Those who attended the ceremonies report that both were lovely services and great parties. We congratulate both couples and wish them all joy. Position Available: We have been asked to carry the following announcement: A prominent non-profit social service agency based in the southwestern Ohio area seeks an experienced professional to direct and manage the agency. The mission of the agency is to promote independence and foster the highest quality of life for people with visual impairments, including those with multiple disabilities. The agency provides comprehensive rehabilitation services including training and support for independent living, orientation and mobility instruction, vocational training, job placement, counseling, recreation, and youth services. The position of President reports to the Board of Trustees and is responsible for the day-to-day operations of the agency and its staff. Qualifications require significant senior-level (CEO) management experience in a complex, not-for-profit social service agency; significant board-of- trustee-interaction experiences; advanced degree; and knowledge of the post- acute-through-independent-living rehabilitation continuum. Fund- raising/corporate sponsorship experience is a plus. Send resume and salary history to Nick Rogish, Rogish Associates, 615 Copeland Mill Road, Suite 1F, Westerville, Ohio 43081, phone (614) 899-2525, fax (614) 899-2524, e-mail . [PHOTO/CAPTION 21: Jacob Freid] In Memoriam: Long-time Executive Director of the Jewish Braille Institute and close friend of Dr. Jacobus tenBroek, Dr. Jacob Freid died on May 1, 2000. The obituary published in the New York Times edition of May 2, 2000, reads as follows: The Jewish Braille Institute of America records with sorrow the passing of our Executive Director Emeritus, whose professional leadership guided the Institute for more than a quarter of a century until his retirement in 1979. In the ensuing years he remained as the deeply respected editor of the Jewish Braille Review and JBI Voice, the Institute's magazines for the blind and visually impaired world-wide. His love of Israel, dedication to blind people everywhere, and intellectual stature will long be remembered and cherished. May his memory serve as a blessing. Elected: April 10, 2000, was the date of the Chicago chapter's annual election. Those serving as officers for the coming year are Steve Hastalis, President; Debbie Stein, First Vice President; Brian Johnson, Second Vice President; Kelly Doty, Secretary; and Kate Mayer, Treasurer. The Board Members are Tom Elkins, Pam Gillmore, Pam Provost, and Anthony Thomas. Audio Guide on Student Aid Available: We have been asked to carry the following announcement: The 2000-2001 Student Aid Guide, available from the United States Department of Education, is available on cassette and on compact disc. Intended for visually impaired students and their parents, the audio guide uses a simulated telephone conversation between a counselor and a student to provide information on post-secondary student financial aid. Students and organizations may request free copies of the audio guide (either cassette or compact disc) by calling (800) 433-3243. [PHOTO/CAPTION 22: Chris Boone] Appointed: We recently learned that Chris Boone, a long-time Federationist who has been living and working in Pennsylvania for several years, has been named Director of the Pennsylvania Bureau of Blindness and Visual Services, the state's agency for the blind. She began the job Monday, June 19. We wish Chris good luck in her new assignment. Correction: Chris Weaver points out that we misspelled the name of a very helpful member of his team in the article, "New Computer Programs to Assist Blind Mathematicians." It was Kelly Burma who made significant contributions to development of the mathematics programs developed at the University of New Mexico. The Braille Monitor regrets the error. Future Reflections Now Available by E-Mail: Barbara Cheadle, Editor of the quarterly magazine of the National Organization of Parents of Blind Children, reports this important information. Here is how to subscribe: send an e-mail message to . The message should contain one line of text. Here is an example using Cheadle's first and last names--you of course use your own name to subscribe. "subscribe future reflections barbara cheadle." You will receive a confirmation message and the most current issue, which right now is volume 19, number 1, but may be number 2 by the time this issue of the Braille Monitor goes to press. E-mail Without a Computer: The National Federation of the Blind has entered into a relationship with a company called CrossMedia Networks Corporation. It has a service through which you can send and receive e-mail using a standard touch-tone telephone. You control the system with your voice and without a computer. You can also control the speed and pitch of the voice used to read your e-mail and sort and manage it in many ways. This service, called MyInBox, can be your primary e-mail account; or a copy of the e-mail you send and receive through another Internet Service Provider can be sent to MyInBox so that you can read and respond to your e-mail when a computer is not available. The cost of the service is $7.95 per month. Use is unlimited if you call the service using an access number in the 703 area code. You can access the service through a toll-free number for thirty minutes at no additional charge. There is a one-time set-up fee of $5. CrossMedia will donate a portion of your monthly subscription fee to the Federation. To sign up for this service, you will need to provide the following information: *Your current e-mail address if you have one. *Name, address, and phone number. *A seven-digit account code and a four-digit pass code that you will use to access your e-mail. We recommend your current phone number or other easy-to- remember phone number for your account code. *Promotion code (NFB) and a credit card (Visa, MasterCard, or American Express). If you have a current e-mail address, you will also need to provide it and the password you use when accessing your e-mail so that a copy of messages can be received into MyInBox voice e-mail service. This information will remain confidential. For more information or to sign up for this service, please call CrossMedia Customer Service at (877) 726-7877. Customer Service will assist you to sign up for MyInBox. If you mention the promotion code "NFB" to the Customer Service representative, the first thirty days of service will be free. CrossMedia gives you an address book to hold the e-mail addresses of people with whom you wish to communicate. Ordinarily a person would make changes to this address book through the Internet. If, however, you don't have access to the Internet, you can have CrossMedia's Customer Service representatives make the changes for you--at $2 per call. To hear a demonstration of CrossMedia's MyInBox service, you can call (877) 246-3366. Western Pennsylvania School for the Blind Reunion: We have been asked to carry the following announcement: The Alumni Association of the Western Pennsylvania School for Blind Children will be holding its biennial convention the weekend of August 4, 5, and 6 on the school campus. The cost for the entire weekend, including dues, will be $56; for those who wish to attend only the banquet, the cost is $26. Come and have a terrific time getting re-acquainted with old friends. The deadline for registration is July 15. To learn more or to make your reservations for the 2000 convention, contact Louise Flannigan, President, WPSBC Alumni Association, 1348 Beverly Road, Port Vue, Pennsylvania 15133, or call 412-672-7405 Elected: The Central Delaware Chapter of the NFB of Delaware elected new officers at its March 18 meeting. They are Debbie Briddell, President; Addie C. Pack, Vice President; and Doris Blake, Secretary/Treasurer. Hoping to Buy: We have been asked to carry the following announcement: If you have an Optacon that you are willing to sell, please contact Konnie Ellis at 605-393-9512, or e-mail . Organizational Products for Sale: We have been asked to carry the following announcement: HandiWorks, a company specializing in organizational products, announces the availability of its catalog, which includes cane holders of different styles, dog guide sleeves, signs for dog guide users who do not want their dogs petted while in harness, and organizational fanny packs and wallets. To request a catalog, call (800) 331-6123 or (818) 704-7511, or write to Tee Johnson, Representative, HandiWorks, 17216 Saticoy Street, No. 418, Van Nuys, California 91406. [PHOTO/CAPTION 23: Donovan Cooper] In Memoriam: We are deeply sorry to report the death of Donovan Cooper on Saturday, June 3, 2000. Donovan was at his Los Angeles area home with his wife Trudy when he suffered a heart attack. Donovan served as an officer and member of the Board of Directors of the NFB of California and was also a leader in the Diabetes Action Network, where he served terms as President at both the state and national levels. Donovan delivered a moving speech at the 1990 National Convention in which he described his job and credited Dr. Jernigan, the NFB, and the blindness training he received in Iowa for turning his life around. Donovan Cooper was a wise and generous leader of the NFB, and he will be deeply missed. We all join in expressing our sympathy to Trudy and the other members of Donovan's family. Read Your Bank Statements and Bills Yourself: We have been asked to carry the following announcement: Do you want to manage your financial affairs privately? Tell your bank and utility, credit card, and investment companies about Accessible Braille Services (ABS), a division of Metrolina Association for the Blind (MAB). Using advanced technology, ABS accepts transmitted data and printed bills and statements from companies so blind and visually impaired customers can read their monthly financial mail in Braille or large print. Most companies do not charge customers for this service. MAB is a private, non-profit United Way agency in Charlotte, North Carolina, that has delivered local rehabilitation services to people who are blind and visually impaired since 1934. The agency's ABS division also produces Braille and large-print textbooks for schools throughout the United States and in several foreign countries. Companies can learn more about ABS at MAB's Web site, or by calling (704) 887-5101. Attention Braille Proofreaders: We have been asked to carry the following announcement: Braille International, located in Stuart, Florida, requires a Braille proofreader; full-time, full benefits, relocation costs negotiable. Braille reading fluency essential, NLS certification desirable, but training on the job available. Salary dependent upon experience and qualifications, minimum starting salary (uncertified) $7.50 an hour. Replies to Braille International, Inc., 3290 SE Slater Street, Stuart, Florida 34997, phone: (800) 336-3142, fax: (561) 286- 8909. Bible Available: We have been asked to carry the following announcement: Shrinkwrap Computer Products announces the availability of the Road Runner Talking Bible Edition. The Talking Bible is a completely self-contained device about the size of an audio cassette. It contains the complete indexed text of the Bible. Using synthetic speech, you can navigate through the Bible by Testament, book, chapter, verse, and line. Buttons are provided for each of these functions. The Talking Bible will run for many weeks on two AA batteries. You listen to it through any Walkman-style headphones or with an external speaker. The Talking Bible does not require the use of a computer. The Talking Bible comes in four versions: King James, American Standard, New American Standard, and New International Version. The package includes the Bible handheld unit, an initial set of batteries, and taped instructions. You can hear a demonstration of the Talking Bible in Real Audio at . The Road Runner Talking Bible costs $199 plus shipping and is available prepaid from ShrinkWrap Computer Products, 11706 Saddle Crescent Circle, Oakton, Virginia 22124-2342, phone: (800) 377-0774. Send e-mail to . NFB PLEDGE I pledge to participate actively in the effort of the National Federation of the Blind to achieve equality, opportunity, and security for the blind; to support the policies and programs of the Federation; and to abide by its constitution. ??