To Park or Not To Park

To Park or Not To Park

TO PARK OR NOT TO PARK

by Kenneth Jernigan

As those who have read previous Kernel books know, I have been blind
since birth and grew up on a farm in Tennessee. After attending the state school for the
blind and going to college for undergraduate and graduate degrees, I returned to the
Tennessee School for the Blind for four years as a teacher, hoping not only to teach
something useful to blind youngsters but also (if I could) to serve as a role model and a
stimulus to accomplishment.

Then, from 1953 to 1958 I taught at California’s training center
for blind adults-again, trying to act as a role model and provide stimulation and
encouragement. In fact, my primary task was to help those who came to the Center to
examine blindness and their attitudes about it; to understand that they could still be
competitive, productive members of society; and that they could not have the privileges of
full citizenship without also assuming its responsibilities.

In 1958 I went to Iowa to become director of the State Commission for
the Blind, which administered a training center and other programs. Once more, I found
myself examining with my trainees and students what blindness was really like, not just
what it was thought to be like. How many special privileges should we take-or, for that
matter, even want? What did we owe to society, and what to ourselves? How important was it
to avoid offending well-intentioned sighted people who offered help that we felt we
didn’t need and what long-term effect would our actions have upon us and other blind
people, as well as upon the members of the sighted public? Such discussions led to
difficult soul searching-especially as we related them to our daily behavior. Of course, I
was not just dealing with what my students felt and did but also with my own attitudes and
conduct. Self-deception is one of the easiest and most dangerous mistakes that a person
can make.

As director of the Iowa State Commission for the Blind, I frequently
had business at the State Capitol. Ordinarily there was no trouble finding a parking place
quite close to the building. However, from January until some time in the late spring or
early summer the legislature was in session, and the Capitol was always crowded.
Correspondingly, the Capitol grounds and parking areas were filled with cars, and if one
arrived after 7:30 in the morning, he or she was likely to have to walk several blocks. If
one is not in a hurry and the weather is pleasant (as, for instance, in early May with the
birds singing, the sun shining, and the appropriations settled), such walking may be good
for both body and soul, evoking thoughts of a just providence and a well-ordered world;
but if the time is January and the snow lies deep on the ground (with legislators to meet
and appropriations to justify), the perspective changes.

Now, it so happens that in the Iowa of that day I was a public figure
of considerable note, treated with respect and deference. Therefore, when I traveled by
automobile to the Capitol to transact this or that piece of business, the security guards
were pleased to see me and offer assistance. There was at the very door of the Capitol a
parking place reserved for the handicapped, and I was a blind person. The security guards
insisted that I take the parking place. More than that: They were hurt and offended if I
indicated that I would park elsewhere and walk back in the snow like everybody else.

The problem was not the guards or my colleagues in government or the
general public. All would have been glad to have me use the handicapped parking place. No,
that is an understatement. They would have felt downright good about it.

The problem was not with them. It was with me. I knew that I could walk
as well as anybody else and that (regardless of technicalities or public misconceptions)
the intent which had led to the enactment of the handicapped parking permit law was to
provide easy access to the building for those who had trouble in walking and truly needed
it. Yet, I like comfort and approval as well as the next person. It was not pleasant to
walk through the cold, wet Iowa snow in January, and it was not satisfying to hear the
tone of disappointment and hurt in the voices of the security guards when I declined the
use of the space, regardless of how courteously and appreciatively I did it. And it was
not a matter which could be faced, settled once and for all, and then put behind me. It
happened over and over-because, as I have already said, I had frequent business at the
State Capitol in January, and the snow storms came with discouraging regularity. So my
Federationism and my bodily comfort, my wish to be honest and consistent and my wish to be
polite and thought of as a good fellow-in short, my spiritual aspirations and my bodily
desires-were in continuous conflict.

What do you think I did? In the circumstances what would you have done?
Whoever says that the world is not filled with temptations (for the blind as well as for
the sighted) is either a naive nincompoop or a barefaced liar. Of such is humanity
made-neither angel nor devil but somewhere between, and always becoming.

Back to Top | Table of Contents | Next Page