TRIP TO THE IRS

Once I wrote a poem in which I said: “the devil appears to me wearing a coat designed by Hershey’s.” That poem is out of date because he now appears to me wearing a coat with the IRS emblem. The one thing that can exasperate me to tears the quickest seems to be a lot of papers that are unreadable to me. With all the OCR apps that are out there, I haven’t found one yet that services my needs, even the newest later and greater ones. Of course there are twenty-five hundred dollar ones that probably work? Well that’s out of the question, especially since now, due to papers I cannot read, I owe the government even more than that. It’s awkward enough to realize I sat across from a young man who totally messed up a tax return for me, but here we go, my trip to the IRS. I order my cab the day before the trip because that’s how our city transportation program works. The cab pulls up and Vivi and I get in. We ride for about ten minutes and as we get out the driver tells me to just walk straight for a while. Vivi finds the door. Inside it feels like an empty hallway. It probably feels that way because that’s exactly what it is. I hear a voice coming around the corner and it smiles at me as it asks me if I need help. Vivi follows the nice gentleman to the door of the IRS Service. It’s as quiet as midnight in here. I see nothing but a blaring overhead fluorescence. Another nice gentleman puts a slip of paper in my hand. “Is this a number?” I say. “Yes, he answers as he sends someone to get me a chair. “What number is it?” I say as I hear squeaky wheels rolling across the carpet. “501” he says. “Is there no chair empty?” I ask. He doesn’t answer but I feel the chair arrive as it bumps against the backs of my knees and I do a little shag step to keep from losing my balance. I sit down with an undignified flop. My feet don’t touch the floor. I feel conspicuous knowing I’m somehow sitting alone, outside a group of people. Vivi’s head turns this way and that as she takes her place on the floor beside the squeaky wheels. Immediately I begin fumbling for the controls on the bottom of the chair. It must look like my parachute didn’t open as my body drops at least four inches and my breath doesn’t. Nobody gasps or even laughs but hey, my feet now touch the floor. Still, I find that somebody could drive a small truck between the bottom and the back of the chair. I lean back and the back of the chair does too. I am searching for more controls; they are all stuck. A young man is standing somewhere in the front of the room I presume, telling us the wait is going to be twice as long today because some people are out. I’m looking for my ear phones so I can read a book if I can stand to sit in this awkward position. I wonder if someone would go to my house and get my head set, but realize that’s not an option. I’m contemplating leaving as Vivi suddenly stands up and starts pulling me forward as though she sees another dog or something. I take four tentative steps, reach down and touch Vivi’s pretty head which is now laying on a padded chair seat I should have been taken to. I sit down and try to be quiet. My phone vibrates but I have no ear buds. A bell rings sounding like a door bell. Silence. Soon another doorbell sounding ring. After several rings I go to the place I came in. Someone is standing there. “What do those bells mean?” I ask. “Every time one rings it shows a number up front,” someone explains. I’m wondering how I will know when mine shows 501. I continue my walk toward the door. “Oh let me help you,” the bell lady says. “NO thank you,” I say, smiling as I tell her Vivi knows the way out. She follows us out anyway. Next time I go to the IRS I hope I remember to pack a head set, a sun visor, a pillow, an inflatable chair, and patience.

FRIENDS

 

When I started this blog my goal was, and still is to  help bridge the gap of understanding between the world of the blind and the sighted. The best way to do this most times is with humor. Even so now and then there comes a little bump in the road that just doesn’t seem funny. Just now I am standing in the middle of that little bump “looking” for balance. Sometimes it becomes too easy for someone like me to assume that a friend just plain LOVES being with me, strolling the streets in the city and roaming the malls until absolutely everything on a to/do list is finished. Such complacency to the reality is always a shock when I find out I can truly run someone ragged and make them totally crazy. So what does one do when a friend says “I can’t go out tomorrow?”  First of all, you totally get the fact that you are not the center of this person’s universe and that they have other more pressing obligations pending. You truly understand as you kick yourself in the bottom with your foot … if you can still do that. But then the person says: “but I will still do anything you need done if I can just do it for you.” That’s the bump I’m tripping over. Suddenly I realize how much more quickly a person can get things done without a blind person and a dog slowing them down. Today I have decided to try one more time to make new rules to make it easier for my friends as well as myself.

My new rules:

~Do not ask a person to go shopping, to lunch, to the post office, to stop by the church, to the bank, the drug store, the vet, and the grocery store all in one day. … and then read my mail.

 ~Learn to pay my bills on-line instead of having someone helping me with checks.

Remember to label hand creams, face creams, shampoos, conditioners, cleaning products, and medications so as not to keep asking someone to read the labels over and over.     

Now, some of the amazing things my friends do:

~Take me shopping, to lunch, to the post office, the church, the drug store, the bank, the vet, and the grocery store.

~Read mail and help write checks.

~Drive a hundred miles to visit with my Mom and sometimes one hundred and fifty miles to see my friend in Charlotte.

~Call me and try to persuade me to do lunch; doesn’t take much persuasion.

~Call and ask me to a movie.

~Call and invite Vivi over for a play date with their dog.

~Invite Vivi and me to go for a walk,

~Invite me to spend a weekend,

~ Save plastic bags for me so I can look after Vivi’s doggy needs.

~Ask if they can pick me up for a party.

~Bring me tomatoes from the Farmer’s market or their gardens without being asked,

~Help me with a web site that is not user friendly, if they can,

Go driving in the rain to another grocer just because I didn’t like the cheese in WallMart,

~Give me a hug when I don’t deserve one,

And just recently, rush from the train station to my house in five o’clock Raleigh traffic to retrieve my dog’s harness and get back to the station before the train leaves.

 

Most of all, these are not people who feel sorry for me; they are truly my friends. So, I hope for all you readers, blind and sighted, that you: 

~Have people like these special ones in your life,

That you don’t become sensitive when they just don’t have time,

~That you don’t take them for granted nor overuse their generosity,

~That when you think you have nothing to give in return you give them appreciation, understanding, a listening ear, spiritual support,

~That you thank God for them,

~And you tell them often they are loved, and mean it.

 

Did somebody say something about a bump?

 

 

FRIENDS

 

When I started this blog my goal was, and still is to  help bridge the gap of understanding between the world of the blind and the sighted. The best way to do this most times is with humor. Even so now and then there comes a little bump in the road that just doesn’t seem funny. Just now I am standing in the middle of that little bump “looking” for balance. Sometimes it becomes too easy for someone like me to assume that a friend just plain LOVES being with me, strolling the streets in the city and roaming the malls until absolutely everything on a to/do list is finished. Such complacency to the reality is always a shock when I find out I can truly run someone ragged and make them totally crazy. So what does one do when a friend says “I can’t go out tomorrow?”  First of all, you totally get the fact that you are not the center of this person’s universe and that they have other more pressing obligations pending. You truly understand as you kick yourself in the bottom with your foot … if you can still do that. But then the person says: “but I will still do anything you need done if I can just do it for you.” That’s the bump I’m tripping over. Suddenly I realize how much more quickly a person can get things done without a blind person and a dog slowing them down. Today I have decided to try one more time to make new rules to make it easier for my friends as well as myself.

My new rules:

~Do not ask a person to go shopping, to lunch, to the post office, to stop by the church, to the bank, the drug store, the vet, and the grocery store all in one day. … and then read my mail.

 ~Learn to pay my bills on-line instead of having someone helping me with checks.

Remember to label hand creams, face creams, shampoos, conditioners, cleaning products, and medications so as not to keep asking someone to read the labels over and over.     

Now, some of the amazing things my friends do:

~Take me shopping, to lunch, to the post office, the church, the drug store, the bank, the vet, and the grocery store.

~Read mail and help write checks.

~Drive a hundred miles to visit with my Mom and sometimes one hundred and fifty miles to see my friend in Charlotte.

~Call me and try to persuade me to do lunch; doesn’t take much persuasion.

~Call and ask me to a movie.

~Call and invite Vivi over for a play date with their dog.

~Invite Vivi and me to go for a walk,

~Invite me to spend a weekend,

~ Save plastic bags for me so I can look after Vivi’s doggy needs.

~Ask if they can pick me up for a party.

~Bring me tomatoes from the Farmer’s market or their gardens without being asked,

~Help me with a web site that is not user friendly, if they can,

Go driving in the rain to another grocer just because I didn’t like the cheese in WallMart,

~Give me a hug when I don’t deserve one,

And just recently, rush from the train station to my house in five o’clock Raleigh traffic to retrieve my dog’s harness and get back to the station before the train leaves.

 

Most of all, these are not people who feel sorry for me; they are truly my friends. So, I hope for all you readers, blind and sighted, that you: 

~Have people like these special ones in your life,

That you don’t become sensitive when they just don’t have time,

~That you don’t take them for granted nor overuse their generosity,

~That when you think you have nothing to give in return you give them appreciation, understanding, a listening ear, spiritual support,

~That you thank God for them,

~And you tell them often they are loved, and mean it.

 

Did somebody say something about a bump?

 

 

SCIENCE FICTION BIRTHDAY DREAM

I decided to wait a day before posting this blog so as not to confuse readers with my real birthday July 11. This was my dream on the night of July 10.

 

My birthday had just passed. A friend (don’t know who) and I were down town Raleigh years ago, new friend, old Raleigh. We went up the elevator in Hudson Belk for a sale but the only things for sale were Christmas items in July. I wanted to buy them and figured only my daughter would not be surprised to see Christmas trees on my mantle in August, but she would be surprised when they were red, white and blue. I told them to deliver the trees and when I got off the elevator found myself eating dinner with a guy I never knew and still don’t. We had the best talk but I apologized to him for my talking too much about the wedding that only happened two months ago. Then I noticed his hair was dark and thick and his eyes were dark too. People are surprised when I tell them I can see in my dreams, not perfectly, but with the vision I had when I could see best. Anyway, this guy was PERFECT! That should have clued me in that it was a dream. Instead I worried terribly because he didn’t seem to realize I am seventy-two. He asked me to have dinner the next night and I was screaming at him as I got pushed out of the dining area that he didn’t know my name. My friend bounced back in the dream. “I met a guy,” I told her. “I know you did but you are seventy-two,” she said as she pushed me into a door for a Bible study. People were DOING crafts and talking about other people. “This isn’t fun,” I said as I suddenly could not see well anymore and begin fumbling around the room for the elevator. The room became the elevator and suddenly threw me out onto the street. “Run!” my friend Margaret yelled at me. “You are late for work!” Give me a ride,” I begged as I climbed into her trunk. My computer was in there. The trunk turned into the attic where I once typed before my son was ever born and there were other women typing in there. “You are fired!” my boss told me. “You can’t fire me I am seventy-two and I don’t work for you anymore.” Then Margaret was leaving to go back home to New Mexico. “You can’t leave,” I said, “you never even got out of your car.”

ALARM!

I almost NEVER remember dreams, so I decided to write this one quickly before I forget. A guy? That is the last thing on my mind, honest! So now the truth is known; my overactive imagination when I am awake is even more active when I’m asleep. Maybe one day I will remember some of the beautiful songs I often hear while sleeping. Goodness, I hope you don’t try to interpret this dream for me; I honestly think it means I am seventy-two.

 

 

 

My View of the Wedding

May 16...

Let me back track to May 15, rehearsal day. After getting acclimated with the site, a beautiful vineyard and a beautiful sunny day, I felt comfortable with my out-of-the-way spot with the keyboard and my music partner for the wedding, Mike Gregory. I had prayed for sunshine, but maybe not THIS much sunshine? Anyway, as practice began Vivi laid like her usual sweet self right beside the keyboard. Suddenly I heard her crunching something that sounded like something very hard to crunch. Still, before I could reach down and grab it out of her mouth, it disappeared and rehearsal continued. All went well until the bride started her little practice walk down the aisle. Suddenly Vivi saw her and bolted like a hound dog going after a coon, wearing harness and leash and totally ignoring our own well-rehearsed command “Vivi come!” and crashing right into the middle of the wedding party. The bride is one of her favorite people.

May 16, 6 AM.  Vivi is doing the fox trot on my bed … then, whatever she swallowed yesterday bounces right onto the blanket.  Could have been worse, could have been me. We’re up now and I’m getting ready to get my hair did with Christi, the mother of the bride.  We laugh and talk about the wedding day. 

Today I made arrangements for my friend, Teresa,  to drop by before leaving for Angier, NC, in order to assure me the dress looks fine and I have no broccoli or something on my teeth. Then Mike and his lovely Lisa wife pick me up and we’re off. About twenty miles we ride, talking and laughing, then it’s almost time. This time I take Vivi to see Brittany BEFORE the wedding begins so she won’t be surprised. Brittany let’s me feel the dress, touching the bodice, the skirt, the train and veil. My mind tears up but my lips smile. Then I take my comfortable place behind the keyboard. Today I put Vivi’s leash around the leg of the bench I am sitting on. If she bolts today, the bench, the keyboard, the microphone and me will go with her. I hear the covered wagon letting people off who ride from the reception room to the outdoor spot in front of a lake which Brittany has chosen for her wedding. There’s a faint smell of grapes in the air and a slight breeze. 

It’s 5:30 PM and the sun is thinking about setting in a few hours as it blazes a trail around the lake. I hear the sound of horses’ hoofs and the slight rattling of carriage wheels. Even though I see nothing, I know Brittany is in a white carriage being pulled by white horses around part of the perimeter of the lake. The sun is so hot but my arms fill up with little spirit bumps as a picture forms in my mind of exactly what a beautiful scene it makes. Then it’s time for her wedding entrance. “Oh dear God!” and that’s a prayer, not an expletive. The keyboard sound disappears. For about four seconds the venue is quiet as Barry, the D.J. realizes I changed settings  and it killed the sound. Now, sound restored, Brittany walks down the short distance before I want to stop playing. I stop anyway. After her dad sits down Mike and I sing the song I wrote for her wedding day, perfectly until the very last note which gets lost in my heart and won’t come back like the sound of the keyboard did. I did hit it enough to get the word out and say a silent thank you prayer that Mike carried the note to its full count. 

Then, as the service progresses, I am lost in my flashbacks:

Brittany and I sit at Ruby Tuesdays over two years ago. She is planning her wedding, spring, summer, winter, or fall. She is so excited. The waiter comes over and congratulates her, only to learn she isn’t even engaged yet, only dreaming.

Back to earth. The service is over. Brittany and Zac get into the white carriage as eyes are glued on the bride and groom, now husband and wife. I hear the horses hoofs. 

After the wedding party has exited the venue I learn that my former husband, Jim, was sitting on the front row with his own guide dog, Chloe. When the horses came around close to the seats on that side, Chloe bolts just like Vivi did yesterday, only her leash was wrapped around Jim’s wrist at least three times. Jim leaves his chair as if it were a slip&slide and lands, in his new suit, in the dirt. Where are the cameras? He didn’t get hurt, so it’s okay if you want to laugh. He laughs about it now.

I ride the covered wagon with the others back to the reception area. The room is beautiful inside, but the colored lights have a great time turning my light vision into a circus. It’s all good as I enjoy a glass of wine made at the vineyard, enjoy the announcement by the DJ as the bridal party enters, hear a strong and purposeful blessing on the wedding and the future given by my son, Kevin, have a meal fit for a king, listen to toasts made by Taylor, the bride’s sister, and Ken, Zac’s father.

Let the dancing begin! Vivi lies quietly like a little angel under the table. I wait for an old tune, something maybe like the “Twist.” It never happens. 

As the evening continues my heart is overflowing as I watch Brittany, knowing that she had no idea of the joy she would feel this night as she planned her wedding over two years ago in Ruby Tuesdays. Her dream has come true. After the cutting of the cake, the throwing of the bridal bouquet, the "put in a dollar to dance with the bride" session, a shower of bubbles usher her and Zac out the door at 10 PM as they get into the limousine to begin their future together.

The year of practicing wedding music is over. Time to see what happens next in my life, hoping for even more beautiful visions.

WEDDING REHEARSAL

2:30 PM May 15,

When I was young we used to play the game of “Farmer in the dell.”  Anyone remember? Let’s see, the farmer takes a wife, the wife takes a child, the child takes a nurse, the nurse takes a dog, the dog takes a cat, the cat takes the rat and the rat takes the cheese? And the cheese is the one that stands alone.  Hi-ho the Dario, I’m the cheese. No one to watch me standing in front of a mirror and saying:  “That dress really looks nice,” “That color looks good on you;” “that makes you look so young,” or any of those nonsensical things that most times people are just being nice anyway. Is this a pity party? You betcha. Let’s see now:  It’s rehearsal day and evening dinner. You are hungry but you don’t eat because it will mess with your voice when you sing.  You don’t dare drink or you will have to go to the bathroom you don’t know where is in a strange place, and your ride must be late or I wouldn’t be writing this blog. You guessed it, I must be the grandmother of the bride. Well, I prayed and asked God to keep me humble, but maybe not THIS humble.     

2:35 May 15,

Ride is here, knocking at the door and talking as he enters saying:  “That dress really looks nice,” “That color looks good on you;” “that makes you look young.” I believe him.

5:25 PM:  We start rehearsal. I play the violin like nobody is listening, and hope they aren’t.

5:40 PM:  Bride starts her practice walk down the aisle. I am playing the keyboard. Suddenly my guidedog, Vivi, sees Brittany, who he adores and bolts all the way across the yard right into the middle of the wedding party!      

Stay tuned; May 16, is on the way.

 

 

Excerpts from book

Sorry to anyone who actually has missed my writing a blog for the last several months; well, I have missed doing it anyway. Life has been so busy, but I have blogs stored inside my brain waiting for the next opportunity to put them into words. In the meantime, here are a few very scant excerpts from my book which will hopefully create some curiosity, perhaps enough to see a few more books leave the shelves of Quail Ridge Books in Raleigh, Park Road Books in Charlotte, Lulu.com, Amazon, iBooks, Barnesandnoble.com. For those who would like an audio copy of “Changing Places,”  please message me on Facebook or post your name on the blog so I can get in touch with you.

At school we lived in dormitories like boarding schools. These are just a few little anecdotes from teenage life in Cooke Cottage, which today would be categorized as middle school housing . These can be found in the pages of my book “Changing Places”.

Then there was the evening that Carolyn, Sherry, Laverne and I decided to have a potato chip race. We all bought a 25 cent bag of chips. In the 1950s a bag of chips for a quarter was probably as big as a giant bag of chips are today. We were each going to eat an entire bag of chips and if anyone got sick we would all three call them a chicken for the entire weekend. I was certain I could eat the entire bag and then some, and proceeded to do just that. It was just before supper and Carolyn was in the bathroom throwing up. I ran into the bathroom, danced around and made chicken noises as she threw up.     

“Myra, stop it,” Sherry said. “We really can’t make fun of her when she really is sick.” 

I stopped making the chicken noises, but somewhere in my mind I felt gratified that even Carolyn could throw up just like everybody else.  

…

I was running after a man who had stolen my eye, and I was carrying his arm in my hands. We had traded my eye for his arm. I was shouting to him that he had taken the wrong eye and now I could not see. As I chased him I ran into an iron bench which immediately caused me to scream.

…

One Sunday in December Miss Davis had taken me to hear “The Messiah” at Duke University Chapel. When I came back Ms. Eubanks and several girls were listening to the top ten tunes in Ms. Eubanks’ room. Now Ms. Eubanks began to sing in a shrill high falsetto voice, imitating opera and doing a little pirouette around the room. 

“Did you like that highbrow stuff?” She asked.

“I didn’t think I would,” I answered, “but the truth is it was the most beautiful thing I have ever heard.” 

“My goodness, you are finally growing up,” she said as she squeezed my shoulder and kissed the top of my head.   

…

Two blind mice; two blind mice;

No ButterFingers, NO ButterFingers!

We can’t get to the Knickel Knack Store,

But if we could  unlock the door

We wouldn’t have to starve anymore,

ButterFingers, ButterFingers!

…

I saw the car, big and gray and fast! At first I screamed because I wanted the car to stop and because I knew it wouldn’t, and then I screamed because I was high in the air, higher than the car, heading down to the pavement. Janice was on my other side, but she didn’t scream, and she couldn’t even see what was happening.

Evidently I screamed loud enough to disrupt the church service and lots of onlookers came out to see the two little blind girls lying in the street as the ambulance pulled up.