Braille Monitor                                             December 2014

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An Apology to Our Readers and an Author

From the Editor: In the May 2011 issue we published an article entitled "Over There" and listed its author as Robert Kingett. The author was actually CathyAnne Murtha, a person known to many as the owner and operator of the Access Technology Institute and the website <>. CathyAnne says she wrote this article while in college.

In a conversation with Robert Kingett, he admitted that the article he submitted was not his but indeed was written by Ms. Murtha. We regret the incorrect attribution of this piece and are glad to credit CathyAnne Murtha with this fine composition. Here is the article she wrote, which, unlike the plagiarized version, acknowledges the fine work of her guide dog Shadow.

Over There

by CathyAnne Murtha

As my guide dog and I stood in line at the checkout of the River City Market at CSUS, I asked the cashier what I considered a simple question: “Where are the napkins, please?”

Her response was hurried, but sincere, “Over there.”

Emerging from the light rail for the first time, I managed to catch the attention of a passer-by, “Please sir, can you tell me where I might catch bus 63?”

A kind voice offered a pleasant response before disappearing into the cacophony of the early afternoon, “You can catch it…over there.”

So many things reside over there—napkins, bus stops, pencils, pens, clothing racks, department stores, and even my shoes! A never-ending supply of important and indispensable items and locales all reside in this place that is shrouded in mystery and intrigue.

I stand in perplexed silence after learning that something is “over there.” It’s a place I have never been and have no hope of finding on my own. My guide dog is skilled at finding chairs, stairs, elevators, escalators, helping me cross streets, and can even find me the Diet Pepsi display at Food Town; however, when I tell her to find “over there” her little bottom hits the floor and a small whimper tells me that she is as confused as I. We will not be going “over there” today. “Over there” has caused me a bit of vexation, a lot of confusion, and, on occasion, made my heart race.

I have discovered that “over there” can be a dangerous place. One day, while crossing a street, I heard a driver’s irritated voice shout out a warning of a truck bearing down on me from over there. Shadow artfully dodged the oncoming vehicle and pulled me to the safety of the curb; our hearts were both racing as we took a few moments to compose ourselves. Close encounters with “over there” can be frightening experiences.

Although many blind people have wondered about the exact location of “over there,” few have dared to venture forth in an exploration of the mysterious place.

One day, while standing in line at the supermarket, I asked the clerk where I might find the aspirin. With a cheery smile in her voice, she informed me that the aspirin was located “over there.” With a weary sigh, I decided that I would take the extra step that would unravel the mystery, which had vexed my compatriots since the beginning of time. Taking a deep breath, and attempting to look nonchalant, I smiled at the clerk, “Where,” I asked, “is over there?” I imagined the girl’s shocked expression. I felt her sharing condescending and concerned looks with her fellows in the store. The silence grew palpable as they mulled the possibility of allowing a blind person access to the forbidden land.

She had no choice; she would have to tell me how to find “over there!” I had won! Exhilaration swept through me as I waited in breathless anticipation. A victorious smile crept to my lips, my hand tightened on the handle of Shadow’s harness; we would soon be going “over there!” The clerk’s voice reeked with resignation as the decision was made, “That way,” she said.

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