Interview with a Blind Man

Have you ever wondered what it’s like to be blind?

Do you know anyone with limited sight?

What would you do if you lost your vision?

Blind Men Don’t Need Help . . . do they?

Stop and think about these questions for a minute. Being able to see is something most of us take for granted, isn’t it?

A Touching Video

I recently watched a video that brought tears to my eyes.

I’m going to describe it to you, but I’d prefer if you just watched it because I’m not actually describing it for you, but for Max, one of my blind readers, and the guy who inspired me to write this.

He’s also the guy who is featured in today’s inspirational story, Interview with a Blind Man. (I’d embed the video here if I could, but I can’t because it is not a YouTube video.)

It’s less than two minutes long, and I hope you watch it, to see if it touches you the same way it touched me. It’s also important to today’s post, because it’s about a blind man.

You can find the video RIGHT HERE.

What this video is about

This video shows a blind man sitting on the street in front of a building on a piece of cardboard with a tin can and a sign that reads, “I’m blind. Please help.”

A few people who pass by throw a few coins on the ground for him. A young woman wearing sunglasses passes him, stops, and turns around. She approaches the man, takes his sign, flips it over, and writes something on it, and leaves. He feels her shoes when she stops. Viewers can clearly see this.

After she walks away, everyone who passes this man starts throwing their coins – many coins – on the ground for him. The woman later returns and the guy asks her what she did. She said that she wrote the same thing on his sign, but in different words.

What she wrote was this: “It’s a beautiful day and I CAN’T see it.”

How This Video Affected Me

Once, I had to do an experiment for a course I took in aging. I had to blindfold myself and try to live as a blind person. It was a lot harder than I imagined it to be, even though I knew the layout of my apartment like the back of my hand and could navigate in the dark very well. The only thing that I found easy was going to the bathroom. Everything else was really hard, and I can still remember what a learning experience that was!

I was moved (not quite to tears, but nearly, as my eyes moistened and my heart swelled) when I was done watching the aforementioned video, for a couple of reasons. The first is obvious; I am a sighted person, and I’m grateful for this. The second is that it made me think of one of my new blogging friends, Maxwell Ivey, who will never be able to see what I see because he is blind, too.

I thought this video would be a great way to introduce you all to Max. A while back, I promised him I’d feature him on my blog one day. Today, I’m keeping that promise.

Max is an amazing person. In my eyes, anyways. And no, there was no pun intended there.

Let me tell you about the way I met him.

How I Met Max

I met Max when I guest posted on Ashley’s blog, Mad Lemmings, offering advice on how to help readers edit their blog posts. Max left me a comment and knocked my socks off when he told me that he is a blind blogger. Geez. I thought I had blogging troubles! Humph. Not compared to Max, I don’t!

I can SEE, and Max can’t.

This sure puts things into perspective, doesn’t it?

At first, I’ll admit I was a bit uncomfortable at having to reply to a blind person in the comment section. I was also a bit taken aback at his bluntness.

However, I was intrigued.

I’ve seen a couple of blind people in the city where I live, but I’ve never befriended or even spoken to any of them. Mostly, I’ve seen them use public transportation. Some had white canes and some had seeing-eye dogs that sported a sign that said “Working dog – please don’t touch!”

So when I encountered Max, I thought to myself, “Now here’s an opportunity I should not waste.”

And waste it, I didn’t.

My Communications with Max

I took the time to start emailing Max and get to know him. I was surprised at the many different things I learned, too. I wanted to tell Max’s story. I wanted the world to know about him.

I was thrilled when Max granted me permission to write about being blind. I was equally pleased when he agreed to an interview. It turns out that Max is a very nice guy.

Some of you may know Max already. He belongs to several groups and is active on various social media platforms. In fact, he hangs out online quite a bit, especially on his website, The Midway Marketplace, a place where he helps others buy, sell, and trade new and used quality amusement rides, games, food trailers, inflatables, etc. He and his family have been in the amusement park business for years.

And yes, he does all of this despite the fact that he has no sight!

This is flabbergasting to me. Honestly, it is. I couldn’t imagine running a business while being unable to see!

Now, I know that there are a lot of resources available to the blind, but I’ve always wondered about a few things – like how blind people know what to wear without mismatching their clothes, how they cook and shop for themselves, and what they do for fun, to name a few.

How do you go about asking a complete stranger these things?

Obviously, you can’t. But if you have a bit of guts and add a touch of ingenuity, it seems like you can do almost anything using technology these days. 😉

I broached the subject of having Max tell his story on my blog and was extremely happy when he said I could ask him anything I wanted!

Through emails, Max revealed a lot. I didn’t interview him per se, but I did ask a ton of questions, which he answered. I then asked him if I could write up my questions and answers in a mock interview, and he said yes. I also shared the post with him prior to publishing it for all the world to see.

I just hope I do him justice and tell his story to his satisfaction!

another picture of blind man, Max Ivey

My Interview with Max

ME: Have you always been blind? Read More

Christmas Was Celebrated on My Grandpa’s 100th Birthday This Year and I’ve Got Many Pictures to Prove it!

THIS IS A ‘TRUE TALES TUESDAYS’ POSTPhoto0407

My grandfather, Samuel L. Stewart.

My grandfather, Samuel L. Stewart.

My late Grandpa, Samuel Lawrence Stewart, wanted to live to be 100 but fell short by a mere two years, eighteen days. Yesterday would have been his 100th birthday. You can see a better picture of him via his obituary, which also reveals a bit more of his life. 

My grandpa was a twin. On the night that my grandpa was born, his mom, my great-grandma, gave birth to two babies, a girl and a boy. Laura, his twin, was born healthy. The doctor told my great-grandma that my grandpa wouldn’t live through the night because he was sick. Ha. He sure proved that doctor wrong! He outlived everyone in his family!

This is a picture of my Grandpa and Grandma Stewart after Grandma Helen moved into Pinewood Court, an old folks home.

This is a picture of my Grandpa and Grandma Stewart after Grandma Helen moved into Pinewood Court, an old folks home.

My Grandma Helen

My Grandma Helen, with my son in the background.

My Grandma Helen

My Grandma Helen

My Grandpa, relaxing in his home.

My Grandpa, relaxing in his home, dog-sitting!

My grandparents, on my sister's wedding day.

My grandparents, on my sister’s wedding day.

The family, together at my Grandpa's house, one Christmas years ago...

The family, together at my Grandpa’s house, one Christmas years ago…

The family, in the back yard of Uncle Mark's house.

The family, in the back yard of Uncle Mark’s house, years ago…

To accommodate everyone and their Christmas schedules, my family decided to celebrate Christmas by having on my Grandpa’s 100th birthday this year.

Let me tell you, we had a blast! We ate, drank, laughed, played, reminisced, and were just plain merry!

It was especially great for me this year because my son and I were re-united. 😉 I have never been happier!

I took tons of photos, too, and want to share my special day with all of you. 🙂 Enjoy! Read More

A Letter To My Son

This image is of a letter to my son.

I have a son. I can’t always talk to him, so I write him letters. I’ve been doing so since he was a baby.

He’s an adult now.

Whether you have a son or daughter, my advice to you is to be honest and bare your soul. Write your child a letter if you are unable to talk. Writing is therapeutic!

My Last Letter to My Son

My TRUE TALE for today is a bit unique, because it involves me writing a letter to my son, whom I re-connected with in 2013 after being estranged from him for about three years.

We are currently – and still – strengthening our relationship (YAY!) and I obtained his permission to publish this on my blog.

FYI, he’s now 31. (I update this post from time to time…) 😉

I have written my son many letters and poems over the years, and I wrote this letter after reading I Will Never Forget, a memoir by Elaine C. Pereira. Elaine not only guest posted on this blog on a Featured Friday, but let me interview her, too.

She touched me deeply with her book.

In fact, this memoir inspired me in ways that I can’t even begin to explain. It was that moving. (In fact, at the end of this post, I share my review of this book with you.)

So now, I am putting together a book of letters to my son!

My Son Has Given ME Life

As most of you already know, I would not be here on this computer today, were it not for my son. If you haven’t already, you can read about this whole experience here:
Part One: My True Story About How I Nearly Died (this is the story that became part of a memoir anthology)

For now, here’s my most recent letter to my son.

I’m really looking forward to your comments, too.

A Letter To My Son

Dear Julian,

I may not have been a perfect mom, but I tried to be.

I may not have disciplined you enough, or maybe I disciplined you too much. I don’t really know. I know at times, I drove you nuts!

I fed you and bathed you and clothed you. I bought you toys.

I sang to you, read to you, taught you. You were my boy, my precious, baby boy.

I got up with you to send you to school. I stroked your forehead and hair when you were sick. I knew you were not feeling well, because you let me do these things. You were never very cuddly.

I paid for heat to keep you warm. I stared at you for days, after you were born. I didn’t want to miss anything. I adored you.

I kept you safe. I kept you clean. I soothed you when you cried. I let you stay up late and watch TV.

Do you know that you mean the world to me?

I argued with you as you grew. You formed opinions of your own. I tried teaching you right from wrong, and to treat others with respect.

I hugged you and kissed you at least three times a day, every day. You couldn’t leave for school without a hug and kiss. Remember greeting each other after school, or hugging and kissing me good-night? I wanted to correct the behaviours of my parents, who were, and still are, non-demonstrative. I told you “I love you” constantly, daily, always, because I do. I love you.

I love you!

When you were two, I wrote you a song. I made it up on the spot, while brushing your teeth, to distract you. You were always so active and wiggly. Keeping still for those few minutes required drastic measures! I wrote down the lyrics, and eventually put it to music. I now sing it to your little cousins.

I supported you in most of the decisions you made. I encouraged you to be great. When you were thirteen or fourteen and wanted to come home (drunk?) after fighting with your friends one night during a sleepover way across town, I refused to pay for a cab, even though I told you I’d always be there for you, because I wanted to teach you a lesson about consequences. You learned it, too. Remember? You never let yourself get in a predicament like that again.

When you were on the high school football team, I went to your games. Even though I wrapped myself in a blanket, I still froze and felt the freezing effects of the wind whipping through my bones and at my face as I sat on the bleachers, while you worked up a sweat on the field.

I tried to be the best single mother I could be to you, my only child.

I sacrificed aspects of my life to enhance yours. I did this many times, for many years.

I loved you from the moment I felt you inside my belly, flailing your tiny arms.

When you lost your teeth, I became the Tooth Fairy. I was Santa and the Easter Bunny, too. You never knew, until I told you.

I dressed you up on Halloween, and took you out trick-or-treating, because that’s what good moms do. Do you recall our ritual of checking the candy when we got home, to make sure it was safe? I didn’t want anyone to poison you, or slip a razor or another sharp fragment into your goodies. Remember how we avoided the pedophile’s place? You may recall it as “the bad house.” I did everything in my power to protect you.

Each time we had to move from one apartment to another, I made endless preparations to ensure a seamless transition. I explained things to you, preparing you the best that I could for what was to come. I wanted you to feel secure. As an adult, you said you were.

Yet you pretended not to know me one day when we were walking downtown, shopping, until you wanted something. I understood. I was hurt, but I got that it wasn’t cool to be walking with your mom. I forgave you and admired you for exerting some of your independence. You had a fit when I joked around and pretended not to know you! You say you don’t remember that incident, but I do. Clearly. It was your first rejection of me.

At a young age, I taught you to do laundry. You were in charge of socks. You had fun matching them. As you grew, you graduated to facecloths, underwear, and towels. You were a big help, you know. I was surprised when you refused to let me launder your teenage clothes, and was impressed with the excellent care you took, and still take, with your wardrobe. I’ve never seen anyone iron like you! When you trusted me to sew the holes, I felt needed again. I loved those moments, even though I hate sewing!

Because I have eating and weight issues, and have had them all my life, I never wanted you to gain an extra ounce. Ridicule and self-loathing were not things you were going to experience! The healthy habits you formed early on in life have helped you become the strong, young man you are today.

Do you still prefer yogurt over ice cream? Apples over potato chips? Granola bars over chocolate bars? I think you do. You go to the gym enough! You do it faithfully, too, and I’m so proud. You’ve worked long and hard for your muscles, your abs, your rock-hard body, seemingly made of steel.

Remember our little, plastic, red, first-aid kit? My heart swelled when you told me you brought one to the beach and when you went camping (or was it hiking?) with those two girls. Your foresight and sensibility astonishes me.

Maybe I wasn’t perfect, but I tried hard to be the best single mom I could be. I was still a teenager when I had you. I was only twice your age once. I was 18 and in pain, physically, when you were forced into this world. I was 36 and in pain, mentally. You were 18 then. I remember, too, how crazy I was. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I know I put you through hell.

When I almost lost my leg and had to undergo major surgery to save it, our roles were reversed and you took good care of me. Did I ever tell you how grateful I was? Let me remind you, I still am.

When you were six and came home with a “D is for Daddy” father’s day card, you questioned me. After our conversation, I questioned you, asking you what you would rather have: a daddy who always yelled and hurt us or a mommy who loved you with all her heart. “I just want you, Mom,” was your response. I’ll never forget that, as long as live. I just want you, son, too. I just want you.

I love, and always will love, you. You’ll be my baby forever, even though you are a grown man now. I hope I will always recognize your face and your voice. A book I read recently about one woman’s struggles with dementia has prompted me to write and share this. It touched me in explicable ways. The book? “I Will Never Forget.”

I want you to know my feelings and thoughts while I can still communicate them. I never want you to wonder how I felt, or have unanswered questions. You are my single-most biggest achievement. I kept us both alive despite a huge lack of money to do so. I may have gambled, done drugs, and a few other things you hate me for, but I did try to be a good mother to you, and for you, as well as a friend. I’m not perfect, but I love you. Please, always remember that.

Don’t forget me, son, when I am gone. Maybe through my writing, I’ll live on.

Now, it’s your turn to be a good son.

Love always,

Your unsettled Mom.

A Funny Follow-up

Funny story – I now spend most of my Tuesdays with my son.  On one particular Tuesday evening, he showed me a sweater he bought. He had ripped the tag/label out, because it was causing him to itch.
I’m sure you can guess what happened… he was left with two gaping holes as a result.
The shocker, however, is what he said to me. Instead of simply asking me to sew them, he asked me, “Mom, can you teach me how to sew?”
So I did. I demonstrated how to sew and fixed one of the holes. He ended up sewing the other.
I was so proud of him! 🙂
I thought about the part I wrote in the letter to him, about sewing, and how it made me feel needed. I felt a sense of pride, though, after we were done, because I had empowered him with knowledge so that he could solve his own sewing problems in the future.
That I still felt needed was weird, and new, for me; I thought he didn’t need me anymore. As it turns out, he still needs me, but in different ways. It’s great to feel needed and wanted, especially after all of the rough patches we have been through.
The best part is that we’re now in a healthy relationship.
Finally.
And I hope it never changes… (unless it gets even better!)

My Inspiration to Write Letters to Julian Came from A Book

I want to let you know that I’m currently putting together a book of letters to my son, called Letters to Julian. I hope to release it in 2018 (OR SOONER!).
I decided to put this book together after reading I Will Never Forget.
This book had a huge impact on me.
I don’t want to be forgotten. EVER.
I also don’t want to forget, either.

I Will Never Forget

I also want to share my review of I Will Never Forget, which I’ve already posted to Goodreads and Amazon for readers to discover:

I Will Never Forget is Elaine Pereira’s beautiful yet heart-wrenching tribute to her mother. Never before have I read a memoir, and I was impressed with the light manner in which this story was written. Infused with humour, the author makes the most out of a difficult situation, making her book enjoyable to read despite the heartbreaking tale she tells. Keep a box of tissues handy – you’ll need them! I teared up many times while reading the author’s touching words, and was bawling when I read the final one. The poem written by the author, found at the end of the book, warmed my heart. It was lovely!

Through the author, the reader gets to know her family, and is able to identify with them as memories are related and glimpses into the author’s personal struggles are revealed. The style in which this book is written provides pieces of the puzzle that many sufferers of dementia face, and the reader can both commiserate with and find compassion for Elaine, the author, a feisty, spunky woman who truly did all she could for her wonderful mother while she was alive. I’m sure Betty (Elaine’s mom) looking down from heaven on her only daughter with great pride and a smile on her face. I would be, if I were her!

I highly recommend this book. I Will Never Forget will touch you in ways you cannot imagine or fathom. You will definitely not regret reading it. Besides, shedding a few (or more) tears is always good for the soul.

Your Turn:

What is troubling you? Are you trying to change things with your son… or daughter?

Leave me a comment and let me know.

And if you want to read Letters to Julian, GET ON THE LIST NOW TO BE NOTIFIED OF ITS RELEASE!