Sometimes I wonder about Judaism. Some laws are aspirational; others acknowledge the base nature of humanity. For example, “don’t talk unkindly about the deaf” or “don’t put a stone in the way of the blind”.
Nevertheless, a good reminder. But there is a greater imperative: guide someone who is blind if requested, or if you think that the offer of guidance would be well-received.
I went to the gym for exactly one-half hour. (SOB is wearing off on me.) I stopped at the wine shop because I deserved a treat after so much (okay, so little) exertion.
I overheard a conversation between a man and a woman. The man was describing the stores to the woman. He was very formal, as if they hadn’t met before. I looked back and I saw that the woman had a blind person’s walking stick although her eyes didn’t have the tell-tale signs of long-term blindness.
I slowed my gait to listen. The man, Richard, was turning left on 97th Street, and the woman, Debra, was continuing on. On the northwest corner of 97th Street, I introduced myself to them and asked if I could be of assistance.
Debra and I walked along for a block and I described the new stores and the general scene.
Then I asked, “It seems that your blindness is recent. May I ask what happened?”
“Glaucoma. It was gradual. I can see big objects, but I can no longer read. I am what people call ‘legally blind’. But I can’t just sit at home. I have to make the best of it.”
We continue along and I describe the stores and our relative location. Of course, I can’t ever remember what the new store replaced. Because I don’t have to rely on my memory rather than my sight.
And people don’t get out of the way of a blind person. They really need to read the basics of the Hebrew Bible. Mostly because I was ready to rain down vengeance all over them.
She asks, “is the Starbuck’s still here?” “Is the jazz club still here?”
I answered her questions. We talked about family and kids. She is 61 and her mother is still alive and is inconsolable about her daughter’s glaucoma.
At 106th Street, my turn-off, I decide that Broadway and West End converge in way that is difficult to navigate. I decide to take her to the Rite Aid on 110th Street, which is her destination.
“Why this Rite-Aid?” I ask.
“I grew up in this neighborhood and now I have moved back. But the last time I was here was five years ago. I figured that Broadway on a Sunday in the summer was quiet enough that I would try an adventure. To be honest, I was relying on nice people in the neighborhood who might help if I needed it.”
I walked her into Rite-Aid. She blessed me and my family.
But I felt blessed. Blessed that I don’t have her impairment. Blessed that two strangers can walk along amiably for a half-mile and both leave the encounter feeling very positive, even if for different reasons.
