My birth month is upon me and I’m looking back over sixty-eight years. Life experiences and reading leave me focusing on the journey from loneliness to community.

Dorothy Day’s autobiography The Long Loneliness and an excellent biography of Rosemary Kennedy bring to mind many experiences of being “other”. This week I found myself trying to express feeling second class to a group I’m part of that is putting on a gathering for blind kids without listening to input from blind adults. I tried to be gentle and positive about the fact they are doing something, but time will tell if they hear both the praise and the request to do it differently.

My book club by phone from the state library for the blind discussed Rosemary the Hidden Kennedy Daughter by Kate Clifford Larson. Although Rosemary’s disabilities were cognitive rather than visual, several of us who grew up blind identified with her desperate but often unsuccessful attempts to fit in in her family and world. For a small example, at the recent County Democratic dinner, I won a picture book. As a sixty-eight year-old, I can smile and think “Who will I pass this book on to?” when I won a totally pictorial book about recent women’s movement demonstrations I still felt a tinge of I wish I’d won the lime-scented goat’s milk soap, but the book is mine to do good with. And I do know the perfect single mom, low-wage earner who is involved in government in her non-existent free time who will find community looking at the book.

When I went to vote, using the “handicapped” voting machine, three members of the community fiddled with it until they got it working. Then as they stood around waiting for me to finish, one of them loudly kept asking their colleagues “Now what if a normal person wants to use the machine?” By the third time she used the word “normal” to mean sighted, I’d had enough. I blurted out: “don’t worry, there aren’t any normal people in this ward.” Her colleagues laughed and she said: “Oh, you could hear me.” I remained silent, finished voting and gleefully told the friend I’d ridden to voting with as soon as we got out the door. I had a community to share that story with.

I am blessed with community in people who celebrate my birthday with me at restaurants of my choosing and give gifts of time to take me to the vet for Luna’s spring tune-up and to a flute concert I sponsored at a nursing home where some friends now live.

When my brother asked what I wanted for my birthday, I asked for a box of goodies from the grocery store where my nephew just started working. I asked for new things I wouldn’t necessarily know about in the areas of snacks, tea and coffee and ethnic meal kits. I can hardly wait to see what arrives!

 

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