15 Minutes of fame

The team arrived at 9 a.m. on August 11, 2010. Not being a morning person, it had occurred to me the night before that I couldn’t be awake, clean, clothed, made up, with my house in order and bed made by 9.It would be easier for me to do all that at 3 a.m. and stay up all night, sitting on the sofa. Then I would be sure to be vertical. I abandoned that ludicrous idea, slept fitfully, and managed to greet all 4of them as they tromped into my apartment right on time.

As they set up tripods, lights, lowered the blinds, and organized themselves, I went to fortify my aching body with green juice. The crew looked at what I was drinking, which looks like pond slime, with curiosity. I offered them each some of the juice by pouring ½ inch in a cup for a taste. Once sampled, 3 of the 4 came back for more and I poured ½ cup for each, feeling mighty proud of converting a new group. The recipe is romaine lettuce, kale, cucumber, celery, carrots, apple – all ground up in a high speed blender. When it is all juice, it is drained through a filter bag to remove the pulp. What remains is this delicious, nutritious, refreshing juice. It looks awful but is so good to taste and even better for the body.

We started the videoing. I was hooked up with a speaker taped to my body and it stayed in place with a battery pack on my back for the next 7 hours as this crew taped me, my thoughts, and my life. I felt thrilled, honored, excited, having the time of my life.

How I came to be in this delightful and humbling situation is a story that starts in 2005 with a revolting development. Aspiring for the American dream, I was living in Miami, happily working in four occupations simultaneously. I had owned an accounting firm for 25 years, worked as the executive director of a number of alumni clubs, was a life coach with clients who struggled with attention deficit disorder, and also owned a computer firm that specialized in untangling computer-accounting messes. Along with an active social life, I was rarely at rest, but was busy and happy.
In one day, I was blinded with a rare condition called acute aeschemic optic neuropathy. That is, I was legally blind in both eyes. The world was now blurry and filled with gray shapes. That was the end of driving and all my carefully developed businesses. I saw my financial future crumbling, and my independence gone. Now I was catapulted into reluctant retirement. From the exhilarating, fun-filled life, I was now in a trough, sitting on my sofa, crying. My friends came to visit and held my hand, but were at a loss to help me. We cried together. My sons and daughter-in-love flew in, helped as much as they could, but eventually went home to their own families and lives.

Weeks passed. One day a friend suggested calling the Miami Lighthouse for the Blind. I did and hope rebounded. A few days later a mini-bus picked me up and I began to learn how to live as an independent blind person. I was enrolled in classes for personal care as in how to dress, cook, sew; a class in mobility, learning how to get around with a white cane; computer class; technology class to learn how to use blind accessible equipment. It was tough going, but I persevered as if my life depended on succeeding. It did.

One day I asked one of my computer teachers, who was blind as most of the staff were blind, “When will I ever be happy again?” “Two years”, he said. Such a long time, I thought. He was right. One day, years later, laughing with my friends, I looked back, remembering what he said.

With white cane in hand I started a new life. My children asked me to move to one of the cities where they lived, ostensibly to keep an eye on me. The choice of Seattle was easy. With the help of everyone I could draft into the project, I packed, tossed, and donated my life. I gave away over a thousand books to the library. I kept 6 books Three months later I flew to my new home, a retirement center , thinking I needed cocooning. In a short order boredom set in and I looked for new challenges. I applied to Guide Dogs for the Blind, was accepted, spent 30 difficult days in guide dog boot camp and emerged with my best friend and the love of my life, DaVida. Now we were ready to conquer the world. The next years were a flurry of furry activity. We joined Rotary, Toastmasters, got reinvolved in Mensa, became involved with local civic groups, and moved into my own apartment. Shortly I was elected group leader of Mensa with 1200 members with lots of activities to enjoy. My adventures with my guide dog became so much fun that I am writing a book of my experiences. In the last few years we have been to Canada 5 times, sometimes with our friend June Brasgalla, to Florida several times to visit June, and other places around the U.S. I speak to groups about my experiences and DaVida charms everyone. Life is so much fun.

Last year Wells Fargo announced an essay contest about people who had reinvented themselves in the second half of their lives. June wrote an essay about me. A year later we were contacted that her essay about me had won and I was being honored as one of the Second Half Champions. Shortly the video team arrived to hear my story about how I overcame my depression and defeat and found a way to live joyfully.

Not everyone chooses to get on with life. I know a number of blind and partially blind persons who, after years of blindness, are still on the sofa, crying, waiting for someone to bring a sandwich. This is the critical choice we make and why the video crew was filling my living room.

In Victor Frankl’s book “ Man’s Search for Meaning”, he writes of how those interred in a concentration camp still had life choices to make. Some shared their meager food with each other. Others stole food from others. We always have choices about how our life will go. I read this book every few years so I can remember to be grateful and to make the most of my life.

Some day I will be face down in my oatmeal. Then all the choices will be over. For now, and until that day, I will get up every day and go out the door to have some fun, help others, enjoy the day, and spread love. Hold off on that oatmeal…