The Cane and I

The Cane and I

The Braille Monitor

January,

2004

(back)

(next) (contents)

The Cane and I

by

Judy Sanders

Judy

Sanders

From the Editor: Judy

Sanders is a longtime leader of the National Federation of the Blind. She now

lives in Minneapolis. The following article appeared in the summer 2003 issue

of the Minnesota Bulletin, the publication of the NFB of Minnesota. Her story

is similar to those of many of us who grew up before parents knew to get canes

into the hands of their young blind children. Luckily, mastering the long cane

is not like Braille literacy, much more easily done when started early. True,

children who begin using the cane as toddlers may well learn its value easily

and naturally, but with determination and the inspiration of good role models,

anyone can learn to use the long white cane at any point in his or her pedestrian

life. Here is Judy's story:

It all began when I was

ten. It should have started a lot earlier, but that's easy to say now. When

my parents discovered that their baby twins were blind, they were devastated.

What kind of future could they envision for their children? To find out, they

began looking for blind adults from whom they could learn. They found two sources:

a sheltered workshop that gave blind adults very limited employment opportunities,

and a blind bowling league. They volunteered to drive people to the bowling

alley. Unfortunately, they did not learn much from these contacts about what

the future could hold.

My

parents were practical people; they realized the importance of allowing us to

explore our environment. The first thing to go was the playpen. We were encouraged

to move around the floor and see what we could find. I am told that I never

crawled; I scooted everywhere.

Later

they began investigating our choices for a good education. In the 1950's most

blind children were educated at schools for the blind. We were given a good

foundation in reading and writing Braille and in other academics; however, no

attention was given to teaching us how to travel from place to place safely

and independently--that is, until I was ten.

We

learned about inside safety. Trailing the walls and holding our hands in front

of our faces for protection from overhead objects was the first lesson. We all

felt ridiculous hiding our faces, so we never used this technique except during

lessons, when we had no choice. To this day I have never met a blind person

who travels this way.

My

first cane was a short, crook-handled aluminum cane. It was heavy, and I never

relaxed while using it. For one thing, I used it only during lessons; no one

made me use it at other times, and I was not motivated to do it on my own. In

fact, I felt very self-conscious when traveling with this cane. I knew people

were staring at me. I knew that some blind people made a living by begging on

the streets, and I had heard that they carried tin cups with a picture of a

white cane on them. I did not want to be one of those people.

Though

adults assured me that it was not necessary for me to use my cane when traveling

with sighted people, I was also told I was amazing for what I could accomplish

with the cane. My instructor was invited to speak to various civic groups, and

I remember being asked to demonstrate the cane. I walked from my chair to the

edge of the stage and the audience gasped because I stopped just in time to

keep from falling into their laps.

Throughout

high school and college I used a folding cane and carried a purse big enough

to hide it. My college friends would meet me and take me from place to place.

I now know that my social life would have been much more satisfying if I had

asserted my independence. I would then have been equal to my peers.

Upon

graduating from college, I was introduced to the National Federation of the

Blind. People were talking about going to a national convention in Houston,

Texas, and I considered joining them. I weighed the pros and cons of this journey.

Pro:

I wanted a teaching career, and I knew I would have the chance to meet other

blind educators. Con: I would not know where to go upon arrival. Pro: I knew

several people who were going, and I could stick with them--at least I would

not be alone when getting lost.

The

pro list won the day, and I had the time of my life. I cannot say that I magically

transformed myself into an avid cane user, but I began thinking. I noticed how

little effort it took for blind people to get around the huge hotel. They even

left the hotel to explore the city. Why wasn't I doing these things?

In

the next few years I came to know all that the Federation had to offer. My Federation

friends have given me far more than I can ever give back. With respect to the

cane, I have come to value my freedom to come and go as I please. I can take

pride in saying to my sighted friends and colleagues that I will meet them somewhere.

I now travel thousands of miles each year alone and don't think twice about

it.

Times

have changed. Not only do we have an organization for parents of blind children,

but because of the National Federation of the Blind we now have adjustment-to-blindness

training centers operated by blind people to teach the use of the cane and make

the students proud. Blind people are equal partners in today's society, and

the cane is one reason why.

I now travel with a lightweight,

fiberglass cane and it stands straight and tall. I no longer need a purse in

which to hide my cane, and I can smile at the people who stare at me.

(back)

(next) (contents)