The White Cane

The White Cane

The White Cane
by Guy M. Masters
From the Editor:
What impact do we have on other people? Often we never know. One of the things
blind people who travel independently learn to live with is the fact that
people watch us. We can be minding our own business, doing what needs to be
done, but just the fact that we are doing that can have effects we never know
about.
When Bruce Gardner
was a student, he met a man at a party one night, and the experience made
a difference in the way that man viewed both blind people and sighted. Guy
Masters wrote the following article about the experience and its impact more
than twenty years ago. As far as we can tell, it was not published at the
time, but Bruce Gardner came across a copy of it a few months ago and passed
it along. Here it is:
It was a cold January
day, and the snow was falling lightly. From the large window on the fourth
floor of the library I looked out across a snow-covered campus. Students bundled
up in ski jackets and heavy winter coats hurried carefully on the icy sidewalks
to classes and study areas. A chill ran through me and I shivered suddenly
as the cold penetrated through the window. The crowd of students thinned as
the bell rang for classes to begin. As I scanned the scene, I was entranced
by the peaceful and silent spell cast by winter--it felt good to take a break
from my studies.
Suddenly my attention
was drawn to a lone figure hesitantly making his way down one of the sidewalks.
He was noticeably slower than the other students bustling by him. He was dressed
warmly--his brown corduroy jacket was buttoned full-length, and a knitted
scarf hung loosely about his neck. His blue backpack, bulging from the books
it contained, was placed squarely on his back, leaving his gloved hands free.
In his right hand he firmly held a white cane, which he extended directly
in front of him. As he walked forward he moved the cane in a pattern from
side to side, tapping it gently and searchingly. But then, for some reason,
he stopped. The white probe tapped forward in several directions. Obviously
something was wrong. The snow and ice were making it impossible for the young
man to determine by his usual method where the sidewalk was.
My heart went out to
him as he intensely searched for some familiar sound--a clue to the right
way. Several students passed him on either side, but none seemed aware of
the dilemma he faced. He moved forward slowly, now approaching the middle
of the intersecting point of two large pathways. I was relieved, for he appeared
to be regaining his bearings.
Now more confident, my
friend began to walk forward again, but because of the undiscernible path,
he had drifted off course by just a few steps. He was heading directly off
the pathway. My heart jumped--"Watch out for that pole!" I almost
yelled out in the silence of the library. I wanted to bang on the window,
but he would not have heard me--I was too far away. I pounded my fist on the
window sill. "Somebody down there grab him! Can't you see he needs help?"
I cried out within myself. He was headed straight for the lamp post.
Then the cane hit the
post, and immediately he halted. He moved the cane to the other side and tapped
the lamp post there. He paused and thought briefly. "The cane, of course!"
I thought, and let out a sigh of relief. As if he knew exactly where he was,
he backed up, took three steps to the left, and turned ninety degrees. He
was standing directly in the center of the proper path. I continued to watch.
Fully oriented and self-assured, he proceeded down the sidewalk again. The
cane was swinging rhythmically as if beating time to his steps. He knew exactly
where he was and where he was going. When he was just about out of my view,
he stopped again. Reaching to his scarf, he tightened it more securely about
his neck, then steadily continued on. He disappeared among the other students,
as though nothing unusual had occurred.
For several minutes after
the young man disappeared, I stayed by the window and reflected. I remembered
the first time I had met a blind person, exactly a year ago while attending
a birthday party for a friend. I had been advised beforehand that a blind
fellow had also been invited. During the evening of the party I had difficulty
determining who the individual was. Then I met Bruce, the supposed blind person.
He was teaching a group of us the dance steps to the West Coast Swing, Latin
Hustle, and several other dances. I was particularly impressed by his grooming--his
clothes were meticulously pressed and coordinated. Bruce was tall and very
handsome.
I watched Bruce carefully
as the evening progressed, intrigued by his confidence and composure. When
the party was over, Bruce needed a ride to his home across town, and I immediately
volunteered. I was eager to talk with him alone. As we left, Bruce stepped
into the kitchen and picked up a white cane, which had been placed in a corner
for most of the evening.
We left the apartment,
and I had to quicken my step just to keep pace with Bruce. Once alone, I turned
to him and bluntly asked, "Why do you carry that cane around?" He
turned toward me and said, "Because I'm blind." In unbelief I retorted,
"Come on! How can you do what you were doing in there and still tell
me that?" He smiled at my questions, but he could tell that I was serious.
He explained that most people who are visually handicapped are not 100 percent
without sight. Some can differentiate light and darkness and even discern
forms to varying degrees. "We develop sight by other means and by concentrating
on other senses," he explained. I was fascinated by Bruce. The more we
talked, the more I began to see things from his viewpoint. He radiated confidence,
joy of life, and extreme faith. It was as if, in developing his other senses,
he had also developed the ability to communicate spirit to spirit.
As we proceeded toward
his home, Bruce told me more about himself, his lifestyle, and his ambitions.
I asked another question, "Bruce, what is the biggest problem you face
being blind?" He thought momentarily. "The biggest problems are
the misconceptions that people have about the handicapped. Most don't realize
that a handicapped individual is a normal person. Inside, we're just like
anyone else." The clarity with which he perceived my previous misconceptions
was disarming.
Excitement grew within
me as we talked. I had never really understood handicapped people before.
Lacking understanding, I had always conveniently avoided getting too close--I
felt awkward, not knowing how to cope with circumstances that might arise.
I had never taken the opportunity to get too near. But my perspective was
changing suddenly.
I turned my VW into
the driveway of Bruce's home and rolled to a stop. I turned to Bruce, looked
at him for a moment, and said softly, "This has been an interesting evening
for me, Bruce." I couldn't find better words to express my feelings.
I wanted to hug him. Spontaneously we grasped hands in a firm and communicating
handshake. "We'll see you later," he said.
Bruce opened the car
door, got out, and walked up the driveway toward his home. He reached the
large white front doors, reached for the handle, and opened the door slightly.
Pausing for an instant, he turned and looked toward me. I flashed my high
beam lights, and Bruce waved goodbye. He pushed the door open and disappeared
inside. The large door closed gently behind him.
For a moment I sat in
silence. My heart was full. I blinked forcefully several times to fight back
the tears. I had made a true friend--a courageous brother.
I backed my car out
of the driveway and started toward my home. "How can he be so happy?"
I questioned myself. Bruce had seemed to be more confident and happy than
many other people I knew. But how could this be with his handicap? I searched
for answers to these questions.
If he was so positive
and composed even with his handicap, certainly I had reason to be more so.
But I was learning from him; he was helping me to see with proper perspective.
I kept going over Bruce's words in my mind: "A handicapped individual
is a normal person--we're just like anyone else...."
I was now back at my
book-covered desk in the library, thinking again of the young man I had watched
from the library window. He too had carried a white cane--the cane that Bruce
had taught me was a symbol of courage, of endurance, of independence, and
of faith. Just as I use my eyes to see the physical world around me, my friends
had also learned to perceive the same things by using different means. But
they had helped me see that knowledge, confidence, and understanding do not
come by sight alone; they are the products of persistence, determination,
awareness, sensitivity, and reliance upon the Lord. I had learned that the
most obvious things can often be the most difficult to see.