Is She Blind?

My phone number happens to be the former number of our local chapter of the CNIB, the Canadian Institute of the Blind.  I think they have finally taken it down, but for at least two years I was getting calls several times every week for the CNIB.  It was, to put it gently, annoying, but I tried not to let it get to me, knowing what a worthy NGO this organization is.

I have never had direct involvement with the CNIB.  Recently, while out for a walk in this ass-biting cold weather we are, er, enjoying, I think it would have been Saturday or two days ago, two bright faced young men flagged me down to talk to me about the CNIB.  Now usually when I am confronted by sidewalk canvassers, I cross over to the other side of the street, walk the other way, slink by while doggedly looking the other way, or shamefully admit that being on a low income I am unable to help.  This has been a survival mechanism given that Because I'm A Girl (because I'm broke), Amnesty International, Greenpeace, and other noble NGO's that I support and endorse farm out their low paid young sidewalk canvassers who have to endure all kinds of weather, and looks and remarks and other less than pleasant outdoor conditions to promote these worthy causes while supporting their sorry asses.  But I don't have the money.  And I'll be damned if I'm going to allow any of those dear struggling university students to gain access to my bank account as a monthly donor.  I won't even let my church do that. (sorry Harold!)

So, this young twenty-something with a clipboard stopped me on the sidewalk and I gave my stock answer of "low-income" and he asked if he could talk to me anyway so I consented.  He was representing the CNIB.  I think he would be of Korean parentage.  Very friendly he was and when I mentioned that my number was the same as the one on the CNIB webpage he said that this then was meant to be but I expressed skepticism.  I told him about my blind friend, a woman I was hanging out with in the seventies and eighties.  She had been through a lot, especially given all the ignorance and brutality being expressed towards persons with disabilities during the fifties, sixties and seventies when she was a kid growing up and a young woman.  She was also a gifted pianist, had a heart of gold towards others, love cats and had a wicked sense of humour.  My mother met her once, she and a friend of hers were visiting me in my basement apartment and Mom joined us for coffee.  Mom, being unaware of people with disabilities assumed that my friend's friend would be her paid companion.  I felt a bit embarrassed and slightly superior when it became clear that Mommy-Dearest would never have guessed that a blind woman could actually have a life and unpaid friends who actually liked her and weren't there just because they felt sorry for her.

Back to the (possibly) Korean-Canadian young canvasser.  I did tell him two anecdotes about my friend.  One was about how we were waiting for the bus together.  I was just seeing her to the bus stop since she was independent and confident about getting around on public transit.  An older, presumably Italian, man saw me let her get on the bus without getting on with her.  He was furious.  Himself having grown up in an era and culture that had absolutely no clue about empowerment he was sure that I was neglecting her, putting her in danger, and began to yell at me all sorts of abusive epithets in broken English and (I think) Italian.  When I tried to explain to him that she knows the bus system and wants to do it on her own he put up his fists and tried to punch me.  I backed away, knowing how futile it was trying to be rational with an idiot.  I think I would have been, perhaps twenty-seven then?

Here is the second incident that I related to the young canvasser.  My friend and I were on the bus together, since we were going to the same place.  A dear little old lady, likely dead now, turned to us with the sweetest little old lady smile, directed towards me and she asked me in her high-pitched sweet little old lady voice, "Is she blind?"  I didn't know what to say so I simply mumbled, "I think she's the one you should be asking."  My friend spoke up and replied, "Yeah, but I'm not deaf." 

The poor dear, as my blind friend used to call 'em.