Where Are All The Nice Guys?

This story is for my dear friend, Jenny.

 “What a lover’s heart knows let no man’s brain dispute”  Aberjhani,

Many, many moons ago, when I found myself back on the singles shelf, a divorced mother sharing a new home with my toddler and two emerging aliens (teenagers) and a food-challenged guide dog, life was so full it was hard to imagine ever needing to be part of a loving relationship ever again…I just stopped looking at the barometer of love which only seemed to forecast stormy new relationships.

Where were all the nice guys? None on my radar…

So I got on with life – making friendships with wonderful women and being taken out on fun and interesting outings with my dad and my young son. The aliens I left behind in the house, forever hopeful they would be tidying up their messes…

Every now and then, purely for my own entertainment, I would glance at the classifieds in the local paper to read the ‘Male seeking Female’ section. Some of the entries were hilarious, others shamefully honest – others boring, but there were a few interesting ones too. Oh, but I wouldn’t go as far as to answer one of these blatant ads… No, no…not me: that was not my style.

Hmm, this guy sounds nice!

And before I really knew what I was doing – I had answered his ad! Several pleasant phone conversations later, it was time to meet, the relationship barometer was looking sunny for a change…

My friend, Sue, ran a café in the main street of Mornington so for me, as a vision-impaired single, that was the perfect place to meet my new beau. Sue would simply use her eyes to judge any dodgy body language radiating from this unsuspecting male…she and I had schemed a plan to talk about the weather in his presence to steer me either closer towards him or further apart, depending on his ‘performance’ in the café!

If she thought he looked like a nice guy – ah, the weather had been particularly lovely that week…but if he showed ANY signs of dodginess or had dishonest eyes, her steer clear message would be delivered unequivocally: “The weather is not that great today, is it, Maribel?”

What did Sue’s barometer read on that day in the café as the guy took his seat on the opposite side of his nervous suitor? – Showers? Sunshine?

Well, actually, I could tell by our conversation he was a nice guy, so sunshine was a possibility but not a probability. There was no spark of attraction, just pleasant conversation and mutual high expectations freed us from any future meetings.    

As Sue wiped down our table, she smiled at me “Not bad weather today, hey?”

I winked at her and we ordered lunch…

And the moral of this story is…..

“We're so dependent on what is before us that we discount our intuition. Yet if one dismisses instinct, how can one understand or believe in a world that exists beyond one's sight?”   Megan Chance

PS. For those who know my dear Harry, this was not the guy in the café that day…our serendipitous meeting is another story!

©  Maribel Steel 2012

If I Could See For Just One Day....

Naturally, when this post appeared in my inbox from the blog ‘Vision Through Words’, I had to take a closer look at the article by Jeff Flodin. The title provoked deep thoughts, so deep that my thoughts could not think of anything…at first…

In fact, I would need a week, not one day: because I would want to fly to Paris and visit the Louvre Museum and that would take a day just to get there, another day to stand in the

monstrous queue before the giant glass pyramid to get in (as I would not have my magic white cane to get in for free this time!).

My eyes would want to devour all the famous painters’ works I have heard so much about: Cézanne, Monet, Van Gough, Matisse, Picasso and the outrageous works of Señor Dali,

just to name a few. I would visit other museums to view fashion through the ages…to see fine porcelain…to admire lush tapestries…

I would like to ride on the FRONT of the tandem bike through the Loire Valley, and visit an underground cave…to see glow worms and stalagmites. I would sit in a field of wildflowers and gaze at daisies in the grass. 

Then I would want to visit a zoo – and look at all the weird and wonderful creatures of the world. I’d like to take a joy flight over the Amazon – view waterfalls and brethtaking views. I’d walk the rocky steps unaided to the bottom of Wineglass Bay in Tasmania and take a cruise around Milford Sound in New Zealand’s South Island.

I’d sit in the middle row of a circus performance and the back row of a mime movie watching Marcel Marceau – or a Mr Bean film.

I’d read an Asterix book and I’d be a photographer for one day – to see at close range the faces of my family and friends (and see if they really are as handsome as they tell me they are). I’d even check out their shoes and tattoos!

I’d sit beside my grand-daughter in her Grade 1 classroom and help colour in pictures and watch the sun set and wait for the naughty possums to come into view.

But I’m cheating a little here – all this is well into my second week of wishes…

I wholeheartedly share Jeff’s sentiments at the end of his story: I love my life as it is, with all its frustrations and difficulties – because I can experience all the above things through the vision of my imagination and with a grateful heart! And because I am so supported by my fabulous family and kind friends who sometimes forget I can’t see….

**

Jeff writes…Here’s what I would do if I could see again.

For one glorious summer day, I’d be a bleacher bum. And play Frisbee at Oak Street Beach.  And get impressed by Impressionists hanging around the Art Institute.  I might paint my bedroom purple.

And ride a sleek red bicycle.  And watch my big, black dog romp in the cool blue surf.

I’d venture into the unfamiliar: down to scuba dive, up in a glider.  I’d find peace in the familiar: gaze upon the face of my beloved, catch the light in her laughing eyes and see the strength I hear in her voice. 

I like to think that I’d be grateful for one day of vision.  I don’t want to resent it as a miserly expression of someone’s sense of fairness.  I’d prefer to remain gracious.

I’d set aside time to spy on myself. Watch how I do things and figure out how to do things better.  I’ve never seen me as a blind person.  I’m really curious what it looks like to be me, how I put my problem-solving skills to practice. 

If I saw my blind self from a sighted perspective, how would I look?  Pathetic?  Persistent?  I live in a sighted world.  I’d like to know how other people see me.  Maybe I’d understand both sides better.

I want to think that wishing is not a waste of time, that it does not mean that I am doing a lousy job of accepting life as it is, that I seek only to escape.  I refute the suggestion that to wish for something not likely to occur will only make me sad or bitter or both. 

And when the clock strikes midnight, let me be grateful for what I have.  Let me not resent those who have what I lack.  Let me strive to make better that which I possess.  Let me find peace and bring that peace to others. 

**

Jeff Flodin’s bi-weekly blog:  Jalapenos in the Oatmeal: Digesting Vision Loss

The above story  is posted on The Guild for the Blind’s website:

 www.guildfortheblind.org,

And also on www.visionthroughwords.wordpress.com

**

What would YOU do, dear reader, if you had sight for just one day?

I’d be keen to know. Please post your thoughts…

“We all live with the objective of being happy,

our lives are all different - and yet the same"

Anne Frank

©  Maribel Steel 2012

Ridiculous Sighted Rituals

I can only laugh when I am out and about with my independent self and encounter some of the ridiculous rituals followed by the sighted community that are utterly useless to someone like me. My so called ‘disability’ is highlighted when I mix in sighted circles, trying to fit in like a blind square. This list is by no means complete; it is just the things that have sprung to mind.

**

When in a group meeting or seminar, I am accosted by a thoughtful person pinning a NAME TAG to my lapel to be just like everyone else in the room. I think they like to call this equality. Ok, so you have my name plastered onto my jacket – that’s helpful in case I forget who I am…any Braille labels so I can see and greet too?

A particular amusement is when I take a seat in a cafe and am asked, “So what would you like?” It is often accompanied with a big sigh as the person has just opened the menu and is overwhelmed with the thought of reading out the entire list. To be quite frank, how the heck do I know what is on offer? To make their life easier, I sometimes reply “Raisen toast will do” – again!

Being mistress of our home while everything is being incorporated into a digital world makes one become even more canny and resourceful in order to keep up with all the new technology: Tv, radio, microwave, washing machine…call me old fashioned, but give me big buttons and chunky knobs one can turn clockwise any day. You try operating gadgets with random pokes of tiny hard-to-find buttons while you wear a blindfold and see how masterful you feel?

And the fad for touch screens, now this sounds hopeful? Forget it! iphones, ipods &  ipads - is that an ‘i’ for an ‘eye’? -  don’t get me started!

I love the expression “Oh, just go on line and you’ll find everything there.” Excuse me, what am I? A tightrope walker or something? Well, participating in sighted rituals can be a bit like walking the fine line between sanity and complete madness.

Facebook. Now this is an interesting social phenomenon. Obviously created for an exclusive bunch – those with eyesight! So, I am thinking of creating a new site (pardon the pun) where you can join me as a friend on my blindfold page and leave a message with my Guide Dog.

Everything was going so well, until I realised the train driver on this particular journey had kindly decided to give the audio-gal another rostered day off. How hard can it be to remember to push the button for the station announcement and drive at the same time – whoops, multi-tasking, that’s right, some folk have not mastered this skill. Glad I brought my little round rosary beads today to count the stations …

Not only do sighted people pretend they cannot see each other on a crowded tram, they hide the buzzers. Each tram has a different interior design so I never know where to find the buzzer in order to get off at the right stop. I can ask the driver but it’s the multi-tasking thing again. Zip…um, wasn’t that my stop? Thanks buddy, just let me off at the next one.

Public toilets – would be a relief, if I could find them! But the odds are good = two chances in three - ladies, gents or disabled: eeny, meeny, miney, mo!  If I take long enough to decide, a kind stranger will often come to the rescue to show me the way to the right door – thank you (but they never hang around long enough to help me find the way out!).

In the deli or the Bank, the cry is the same, “Take a ticket, please.” Would love to – if I knew where they were, dear. And you think just holding a ticket gives me confidence to behave like a ‘normal’ person? Fretting fingers fumble – the number mysteriously appears and is placed into my waiting hand. That’s kind – before you go, um, just a minor detail: what number am I holding anyway?

Maestro, please play the final trumpet fan-fair – dum-de-dar…the numero uno most ridiculous sighted ritual (for the blind), trumpets now reaching a deafening crescendo…DUM-DER-DUM-DER-DA-DER-DUMB – is finding oneself having to navigate through a myriad of steel poles, chains, barriers and merchandise boxes  supposedly helpful in herding me to the front of a QUEUE! The most embarrassing place to stray off the guided path is in the open area of the Bank, because you know some smug security guard is watching your comedy capers on their overhead cameras – yep, just wave and smile, I’ll find your silly queue one of these days!

©  Maribel Steel 2012