I have no illusions about how much a dog understands and thinks though of course we can’t really get inside a dog’s head or world to prove we are right but most people connected with dogs are of the opinion that a dog lives in the present, understands very limited language and even that which they do understand is confined largely to tone of voice rather than long and complicated sentences. Still, because of my desire to imbue Rosa with human qualities like knowing how I think and understanding my troubles to the extent a human would, I sometimes imagine she might, just might really connect with me and be the exception rather than the rule. Why wouldn’t I think that? I love her, she is my guide, constant companion and friend.
In my rational moments when I am being unsentimental and sensible, I know Rosa’s world is straightforward, uncomplicated and that she is happiest when kept to a routine. I know that we are different and that Rosa lives in the present while we either live in the past or obsess about the future. She does not find her world baffling, frightening or overwhelming but there is a significant and deserving group of people who do find our world baffling and, if left to themselves, would be obliged to remain in their own, were it not for the skilled help of others.
Autism is a fascinating and mysterious condition in which I have long been interested and about which I have read a lot and am still learning. Put at its simplest, it causes deficits in three areas which are language development; imaginative play and knowledge that others’ intentions and minds are different from ones own. The word “autism” comes from the Greek word “autos” meaning self and it is with the self that autistic people are normally preoccupied. They are not selfish as is the man who pushes past you in the bus queue or the person who indulges in greed while the poor starve and has no conscience about it but they are instead locked within their own repetitive behaviour and trapped within themselves just as a blind person would be trapped in the house without proper mobility training or friends to take them out and of course white canes or guide dogs.
Just as someone once had the bright idea of training a dog to free blind people from the involuntary prison which blindness can create, so a parent of an autistic boy had the idea of buying a retriever in order to give his son a chance to escape the prison of autism and the transformation was miraculous. The story was told in the deeply moving book: “A Friend like Henry” by Nuala Gardner, which I have recently read on a talking book sent to me by RNIB. Dale is not cured of his autism since there is no cure for what is a life- long developmental disorder which is on a continuum of severity which ranges from high functioning Asperger’s Syndrome sufferers to severely autistic indifiduals at the other end of the spectrum. Just as with blindness and blind people, one size does not fit all but again just as with blind people, help can and must come mainly from skilled
professionals but can also come from volunteers who have a desire to give back to as well as take from society which predates Cameron’s juxtaposed idea of the “big society” which doubtless he coined in order to kid us into thinking that politicians care after the woman with the handbag told us there is no such thing as society.
Of course I said: “Ah! Isn’t that wonderful”! When I read certain parts of the book and I cried when I read the part where Dale told his parents that he loved them after his dad communicated with him by inventing a voice for his dog. I sent the book back, sat down, cried some more because on some deep level of understanding I connected with this autistic child. I know what it’s like to be lonely and baffled by my surroundings.
Like Dale, I rocked and flapped my hands as a child and like some autistic people I sniffed people’s hands in order to identify them. I screamed when my nan tried putting new clothes on me during the day because one dressed in the morning and undressed at night and that was that. I was described as a late developer at school and was picked on by teachers and though visually impaired people may disagree with me I consider that one is in a blind island state as eyes are the umbilical cords that connect us to the world.
Autistic people are “islands” in a sea of confusion and whereas I can’t make eye contact with people, they avoid it. It’s little wonder then that I empathise with them especially as I am forthright and sometimes brutally honest as is someone with Asperger’s Syndrome but of course there’s perhaps less excuse for me as I have been able to learn the necessary social skills to prevent my brutal honesty.
I felt impelled therefore, to see if I could help them by offering to take Rosa to Papillon House school, in Surrey, for autistic children. Since I was turned down when I volunteered for hospital radio on health and safety grounds and have also been rejected twice by the Samaritans I expected the same response from the school I contacted. I couldn’t have been more surprised and delighted when they eagerly agreed that we could go and last Monday, January 9th, Rosa and I went there and of course as one would expect she was adored by the staff as we went from class to class where I demonstrated how to stroke Rosa who lay down like a little lamb, showing none of her usual exuberance. Dare I even begin to think that she actually knew these children need calm and gentleness so they won’t get agitated? I actually believe she did, just as she knows the same with regard to the autistic adults I know who have visited my flat.
I am no saintly blind person doing good works and don’t want you to think so. I need to get out of the flat and do something useful. I need to be valued and to contribute to the society from which I am obliged to take and I have found out something that I did not know with regard to autistic people. Like everyone else they long for love. They long for friends and for acceptance and are entitled to reach their full potential and to be given every opportunity to do so and just as you walk pups that you hope will be guides that’ll help us through our troubled waters, so I was pleased to volunteer Rosa to become a “bitch over troubled waters” that threaten to engulf anyone who doesn’t get the help they need, regardless of whether they have disabilities.
A little boy, aged seven, made me smile for the first time since the dismal and exclusive Christmas season during which many without families become social outcasts and lepers and casualties of this highly selfish and vile time of year. Asked why I need a dog, he said: “To help June walk”. When asked why I need a dog to help me walk, he replied: “Because she is old”! That was this autistic boy’s gift to me, a smile which kept me going all day. Having survived another vile Christmas, is it any wonder I know how they feel and want to help them? I can’t wait to go back and be with them again and thanks to Rosa who now has a hobby as well as a job as a guide dog, I can.
(the end)
(Copyright June Bowden, 12th January, 2012).
Saturday, March 3, 2012
BY THE RIVER FOR PAPILLON.
February, 29th only comes round once every four years as we know and this is a leap day I won’t forget nor want to because it’s the day I took the PM challenge laid down by Eddie Mair on Radio4’s PM programme.
You know the background to my involvement with Papillon House School for autistic children by now and how they need £38,000 for playground equipment for what one mum describes as “rainbow” children – Very clever and positive as autism is on a spectrum of severity and a rainbow has a spectrum of colours in it if I have that right. I know there are seven colours that I have never seen so forgive me if my description is not accurate.
The tandem ride I did today was thrilling, exhilarating and liberating. At first I thought I may fall off because it wobbled a bit especially when stationary but once we got going it was really great and I did the whole five (not four as it turned out) miles and I was so happy, sitting up there cycling away to my heart’s content.
The BBC sent a car to get me and I nearly had a funny five minutes when the driver said he didn’t know Rosa was coming, then told me we were going to the stock yard at Hampton Court when I thought we were going to Bushy Park! However all turned out well after a check with his HQ and Rosa was a good girl, lying quietly in the footwell of the car. We met two people from the blind society, one who lent the tandem and the other who showed me what to do regarding riding it. That was the hairy scary bit! I thought: “I love autistic children but oh! Shouldn’t I have stayed at home, offering to play tracks on a cd for people for fifty pence a go? It’d have been much safer”! Once Paddy O’Connell got on and we got going though it was steady and trouble free and the others in the film crew and the producer had a job to keep up with us. As I use an exercise bike regularly, I think I was the only one, apart from Paddy, who wasn’t out of breath! The wind in my hair, the feeling of motion without the worry of banging into anything or whether I’ll be mown down by a silly motorist who isn’t looking where he’s going or being ploughed into by some buggy-wielding woman yapping on a mobile about inconsequential tosh or having my toes trampled on by some arrogant bloke who thinks he owns the pavement and the road was indescribably good and only another blind person would truly understand my joy at this all-too-rare experience of mobility and freedom which even Rosa can’t give me since we are a team. Of course Paddy and I were a team but he is human and could tell me things that Rosa can’t and instead of being in Busy
Epsom, we were in a quiet park where I could only hear birds and us chatting and the tandem’s wheels going round.
Rosa had a lovely long walk with a lady who provided the tandem, courtesy of a blind association in, I think, Kingston. I’m not sure if the poser was filmed but if not, it must be a first for the old girl not to have starred in the show and to have taken a back “basket”!
One of the pupils at Papillon House was there, together with his mum and brother who provided me with a laugh when his mum asked him to shake hands with me and tell me how old he was. Instead he said:
“How old are you”? Well age is only a number so I proudly told him I am fifty-seven!
Sadly, nobody said, on cue:
“You don’t look it”!
However I could forgive them anything, even if one of them had said:
“You look eighty-seven instead”!
Everyone from the BBC was out of breath, cycling to keep up with us and I cycled five miles for these gorgeous children for whom I would do absolutely anything without the slightest hesitation. They have so much to teach us about what is possible and how all of us bring our own brand of uniqueness to the table of life. I have such admiration for their parents, such respect for the teaching staff at Papillon whose positive attitude encourages and supports the parents in times of stress and difficulty and although I have only been there once, the school has a loving and welcoming atmosphere and they let me in without all this worry about what I disrespectfully refer to as “elves and safety pins”! Most of all though I adore the children – All children and I admire these “rainbow” children more than I can say. I know from experience what a dull day means as mine has no colours in
it and, challenging though these children are, what a dull world it would be without them in it to show us what they can achieve given the right support at the appropriate time.
Paddy told me we passed the river Thames, or that he could see it as we went by and as the river of life flows, my legs went round and round as I cycled, it occurred to me that these children should not be left to drown in a sea of confusion and difficulty but should be helped to the shores of understanding where some may bask on the banks of their brilliance and I am proud to have played my part in helping their lives to improve. Just as I rode on that tandem today, we can all work in tandem – Able bodied and disabled – To enrich this world and make it a better place. All of us only have a little time to make a big difference and, if I ever get the chance, I’d do it all over again, having allowed everyone sufficient time to save up of course before I dare ask for sponsorship again.
(the end)
(copyright June Bowden 29th February, 2012).
You know the background to my involvement with Papillon House School for autistic children by now and how they need £38,000 for playground equipment for what one mum describes as “rainbow” children – Very clever and positive as autism is on a spectrum of severity and a rainbow has a spectrum of colours in it if I have that right. I know there are seven colours that I have never seen so forgive me if my description is not accurate.
The tandem ride I did today was thrilling, exhilarating and liberating. At first I thought I may fall off because it wobbled a bit especially when stationary but once we got going it was really great and I did the whole five (not four as it turned out) miles and I was so happy, sitting up there cycling away to my heart’s content.
The BBC sent a car to get me and I nearly had a funny five minutes when the driver said he didn’t know Rosa was coming, then told me we were going to the stock yard at Hampton Court when I thought we were going to Bushy Park! However all turned out well after a check with his HQ and Rosa was a good girl, lying quietly in the footwell of the car. We met two people from the blind society, one who lent the tandem and the other who showed me what to do regarding riding it. That was the hairy scary bit! I thought: “I love autistic children but oh! Shouldn’t I have stayed at home, offering to play tracks on a cd for people for fifty pence a go? It’d have been much safer”! Once Paddy O’Connell got on and we got going though it was steady and trouble free and the others in the film crew and the producer had a job to keep up with us. As I use an exercise bike regularly, I think I was the only one, apart from Paddy, who wasn’t out of breath! The wind in my hair, the feeling of motion without the worry of banging into anything or whether I’ll be mown down by a silly motorist who isn’t looking where he’s going or being ploughed into by some buggy-wielding woman yapping on a mobile about inconsequential tosh or having my toes trampled on by some arrogant bloke who thinks he owns the pavement and the road was indescribably good and only another blind person would truly understand my joy at this all-too-rare experience of mobility and freedom which even Rosa can’t give me since we are a team. Of course Paddy and I were a team but he is human and could tell me things that Rosa can’t and instead of being in Busy
Epsom, we were in a quiet park where I could only hear birds and us chatting and the tandem’s wheels going round.
Rosa had a lovely long walk with a lady who provided the tandem, courtesy of a blind association in, I think, Kingston. I’m not sure if the poser was filmed but if not, it must be a first for the old girl not to have starred in the show and to have taken a back “basket”!
One of the pupils at Papillon House was there, together with his mum and brother who provided me with a laugh when his mum asked him to shake hands with me and tell me how old he was. Instead he said:
“How old are you”? Well age is only a number so I proudly told him I am fifty-seven!
Sadly, nobody said, on cue:
“You don’t look it”!
However I could forgive them anything, even if one of them had said:
“You look eighty-seven instead”!
Everyone from the BBC was out of breath, cycling to keep up with us and I cycled five miles for these gorgeous children for whom I would do absolutely anything without the slightest hesitation. They have so much to teach us about what is possible and how all of us bring our own brand of uniqueness to the table of life. I have such admiration for their parents, such respect for the teaching staff at Papillon whose positive attitude encourages and supports the parents in times of stress and difficulty and although I have only been there once, the school has a loving and welcoming atmosphere and they let me in without all this worry about what I disrespectfully refer to as “elves and safety pins”! Most of all though I adore the children – All children and I admire these “rainbow” children more than I can say. I know from experience what a dull day means as mine has no colours in
it and, challenging though these children are, what a dull world it would be without them in it to show us what they can achieve given the right support at the appropriate time.
Paddy told me we passed the river Thames, or that he could see it as we went by and as the river of life flows, my legs went round and round as I cycled, it occurred to me that these children should not be left to drown in a sea of confusion and difficulty but should be helped to the shores of understanding where some may bask on the banks of their brilliance and I am proud to have played my part in helping their lives to improve. Just as I rode on that tandem today, we can all work in tandem – Able bodied and disabled – To enrich this world and make it a better place. All of us only have a little time to make a big difference and, if I ever get the chance, I’d do it all over again, having allowed everyone sufficient time to save up of course before I dare ask for sponsorship again.
(the end)
(copyright June Bowden 29th February, 2012).
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
LIBERTY LAB
Only someone who has had a guide dog can possibly understand how penned in and imprisoned you feel when you’re between dogs or can no longer have them.
When my lovely old Esme retired I was living in an unsuitable area – Not for dogs but for me. My heels were sore because of flat feet which caused me to have plantar fasciitis which has now gone and I had to wait to move to Surrey before I could even think of having another dog. I moved two years ago this coming May and had to go back to the slow and laborious white cane. My arm ached and my back ached but most of all my heart ached.
When I lost Esme I lost my eyes. I lost a companion and I lost a loyal friend. I pottered about and only went out when I had to. I didn’t want to go out because it’s so hard with a cane and I felt so blind, groping about in the street, bumping into objects and it seemed to take so long to get anywhere.
Then I had the call that I longed for. A GDMI rang me to tell me that there was a dog for me. I was so anxious to go that the three days’ notice I had didn’t faze me though I was a bit stunned. I trained last October with my fourth dog, Rosa. It hasn’t been without its difficulties. As usual the training was very tiring and I do have a back problem.
When I came home I had news of a bigger flat which would better meet both Rosa’s and my needs and I wasn’t given much time to move. As anyone will tell you, guide dog training is exhausting enough but a move on top while undergoing home training after the initial residential stint is very tiring indeed. I left my keys in the fridge, forgot to turn off the cooker ring once and could hardly take in anything my instructor told me. Then I had an accident to my right foot and tore all the ligaments in it so just as poor Rosa was getting used to me and her new home, she had to go again. While she “played away” but not with another dog as she has been spayed, I hobbled around my new flat, still going to the bathroom instead of the kitchen as the flat is like a mirror image of my other one but a little different again as it has a separate bedroom.
In my despairing and tired state, I told my instructor, Emma, that I didn’t want her and would make do with the sighted PA I have. Then, after a visit from my friend and her guide dog which came to me for fuss, I tearfully rang Emma and told her I couldn’t live without Rosa and that I’d not change my mind again and please may I have her back.
On 6th January, having spent Christmas without my dog, Rosa came home and I worked hard to make up for what I missed as a result of hurting my foot.
Now the home training is almost at an end and I have just one more route to qualify on. Today, as on Saturday and a few times beforehand, I went out to get shopping again on my own and yet not on my own. This lovely, gentle two-year-old Labrador, golden and glorious, faithful and dependable, took me unerringly to every shop I needed to go to today. She walked me through the shopping mall I use in Surrey and I know that without her I wouldn’t even bother going to Marks and Spencer.
When I think of how near I was to losing her because I was so desperately tired and in agony with my foot I shudder. I thought I didn’t have enough heart left to share with or give to another guide dog after my lovely old Esme retired but I find it’s true what people say, namely that the more love you give the more you can give. These dogs ask for so little. All they want is a warm bed, regular meals, a bit of fuss and lots of kindness and in return they restore the independence so prized by and valued by us and so taken for granted by those who see.
When I come home, to relieve the tension for us both after the stress of going out in traffic filled streets, I have what I call “waggley fuss”. All this means is that I play with the dog, tickle her and make her wag her tail while saying to her “Wigoty-wag! You’re a good girl aren’t you”, at which point she dashes round the room like a horse at the Epsom Derby and returns with her poor and batter “Flopsy”, a toy made for her by her kind boarder Barbara who looked after her while I moved and when I hurt my foot. I thought today just how much “Wigoty-wag” sounds like “Liberty Lab”. That just about sums it up – Liberty Lab because Rosa has given me back my liberty and freedom just as Emma has for it was Emma who trained us and who has worked hard with me to see me qualify with this lovely dog. A silent army of people, unsung and yet so valuable, from puppy walkers Tessa and Trevor, to Barbara who looked after Rosa to Emma and those others involved in her training, crept up to my door and unlocked the prison bars of blindness so that I may be free – Free again to go out into a world that I have never been able to see. Every penny you put into a box, hour you give to help in whatever way you can and all the time you give to Guide Dogs will do as much and more for someone else who will one day do as I have done and benefit from their very own liberty Lab. It makes going out in the cold and wet, getting covered in mud and waiting for her to “get busy” on a cold winter’s morning so worthwhile. You may be able to stay in with a cane but a guide dog, while giving you no choice but to go out, means that finally and with ease and confidence, you can go out instead.
(the end)
When my lovely old Esme retired I was living in an unsuitable area – Not for dogs but for me. My heels were sore because of flat feet which caused me to have plantar fasciitis which has now gone and I had to wait to move to Surrey before I could even think of having another dog. I moved two years ago this coming May and had to go back to the slow and laborious white cane. My arm ached and my back ached but most of all my heart ached.
When I lost Esme I lost my eyes. I lost a companion and I lost a loyal friend. I pottered about and only went out when I had to. I didn’t want to go out because it’s so hard with a cane and I felt so blind, groping about in the street, bumping into objects and it seemed to take so long to get anywhere.
Then I had the call that I longed for. A GDMI rang me to tell me that there was a dog for me. I was so anxious to go that the three days’ notice I had didn’t faze me though I was a bit stunned. I trained last October with my fourth dog, Rosa. It hasn’t been without its difficulties. As usual the training was very tiring and I do have a back problem.
When I came home I had news of a bigger flat which would better meet both Rosa’s and my needs and I wasn’t given much time to move. As anyone will tell you, guide dog training is exhausting enough but a move on top while undergoing home training after the initial residential stint is very tiring indeed. I left my keys in the fridge, forgot to turn off the cooker ring once and could hardly take in anything my instructor told me. Then I had an accident to my right foot and tore all the ligaments in it so just as poor Rosa was getting used to me and her new home, she had to go again. While she “played away” but not with another dog as she has been spayed, I hobbled around my new flat, still going to the bathroom instead of the kitchen as the flat is like a mirror image of my other one but a little different again as it has a separate bedroom.
In my despairing and tired state, I told my instructor, Emma, that I didn’t want her and would make do with the sighted PA I have. Then, after a visit from my friend and her guide dog which came to me for fuss, I tearfully rang Emma and told her I couldn’t live without Rosa and that I’d not change my mind again and please may I have her back.
On 6th January, having spent Christmas without my dog, Rosa came home and I worked hard to make up for what I missed as a result of hurting my foot.
Now the home training is almost at an end and I have just one more route to qualify on. Today, as on Saturday and a few times beforehand, I went out to get shopping again on my own and yet not on my own. This lovely, gentle two-year-old Labrador, golden and glorious, faithful and dependable, took me unerringly to every shop I needed to go to today. She walked me through the shopping mall I use in Surrey and I know that without her I wouldn’t even bother going to Marks and Spencer.
When I think of how near I was to losing her because I was so desperately tired and in agony with my foot I shudder. I thought I didn’t have enough heart left to share with or give to another guide dog after my lovely old Esme retired but I find it’s true what people say, namely that the more love you give the more you can give. These dogs ask for so little. All they want is a warm bed, regular meals, a bit of fuss and lots of kindness and in return they restore the independence so prized by and valued by us and so taken for granted by those who see.
When I come home, to relieve the tension for us both after the stress of going out in traffic filled streets, I have what I call “waggley fuss”. All this means is that I play with the dog, tickle her and make her wag her tail while saying to her “Wigoty-wag! You’re a good girl aren’t you”, at which point she dashes round the room like a horse at the Epsom Derby and returns with her poor and batter “Flopsy”, a toy made for her by her kind boarder Barbara who looked after her while I moved and when I hurt my foot. I thought today just how much “Wigoty-wag” sounds like “Liberty Lab”. That just about sums it up – Liberty Lab because Rosa has given me back my liberty and freedom just as Emma has for it was Emma who trained us and who has worked hard with me to see me qualify with this lovely dog. A silent army of people, unsung and yet so valuable, from puppy walkers Tessa and Trevor, to Barbara who looked after Rosa to Emma and those others involved in her training, crept up to my door and unlocked the prison bars of blindness so that I may be free – Free again to go out into a world that I have never been able to see. Every penny you put into a box, hour you give to help in whatever way you can and all the time you give to Guide Dogs will do as much and more for someone else who will one day do as I have done and benefit from their very own liberty Lab. It makes going out in the cold and wet, getting covered in mud and waiting for her to “get busy” on a cold winter’s morning so worthwhile. You may be able to stay in with a cane but a guide dog, while giving you no choice but to go out, means that finally and with ease and confidence, you can go out instead.
(the end)
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
SIMON SAID.
About fourteen years ago, when I was using an old Brailler, I had what silly people may call “Perkins” pals (penpals to you and me and anyone else who wants to treat blind people as normal and hate phrases which set us apart like touch tours and clock face descriptions of food).
In those heady days before the invention of a technology I can barely get to grips with, I established a friendship with Simon, a young man who now lives in Scunthorpe, north Lincolnshire. Through a friend of mine I have now re-established contact with Simon and this has thrilled both of us for many reasons.
Since age three months I have been blind but Simon, as well as being blind is deaf. Since my days at school and college I have known a few people who suffer this double sensory loss and, knowing how I rely on my hearing to compensate for my lack of sight, I wonder how I would cope were I in their shoes. The eyes and ears are the umbilical cords connecting us to the rest of the world. Without either your eyes or ears you are in an island state – Your body becoming a prison instead of a vehicle for mobility and social communication.
Many people have decided, from their positions of ignorance and stupidity that it is worse to either be blind or deaf. What I say is that it is worse to be both for then you suffer the problems of both and, just as the mixing of two colours make a third, so do the mixing of two disabilities make a third one, distinct from either of the other two.
Simon told me he had been in hospital – A scary and unnerving experience for anyone. My first thought was:
“How did the nurses communicate with you”? Or
“Did they even communicate with you”?
Hardly anyone knows the manual and the plight of the deaf-blind is never discussed on radio or TV. Where is Simon’s privacy when he needs typetalk to make a phone call?
My last thought as I drifted off to sleep last night was:
“How can I make Simon’s life better”?
The answer isn’t by tut-tutting and saying it’s a shame. The answer isn’t to cry into my pillow thousands of sentimental tears of pity. Today, Simon himself provided the answer and suggested I write this article, telling my story or should I say our story – The story of how we re-established contact, thereby publicising the problems of those doubly handicapped in this way. Words are my business since I am a writer with a blog who has won a short story competition. I love language and words, music and poetry and I cannot imagine life without them so I agreed to do what Simon said. He, from his position of darkness and silence has spoken loudly and clearly to me:
“Help me tell it like it is”.
That was an offer I just could not refuse. His courage, fortitude and sense of humour, displayed from a position of unrelenting adversity, gives me courage and inspiration of my own so let’s all do what Simon says – Namely make the world of those without hearing and sight a more bearable and deaf-blind friendly place.
(The end).
In those heady days before the invention of a technology I can barely get to grips with, I established a friendship with Simon, a young man who now lives in Scunthorpe, north Lincolnshire. Through a friend of mine I have now re-established contact with Simon and this has thrilled both of us for many reasons.
Since age three months I have been blind but Simon, as well as being blind is deaf. Since my days at school and college I have known a few people who suffer this double sensory loss and, knowing how I rely on my hearing to compensate for my lack of sight, I wonder how I would cope were I in their shoes. The eyes and ears are the umbilical cords connecting us to the rest of the world. Without either your eyes or ears you are in an island state – Your body becoming a prison instead of a vehicle for mobility and social communication.
Many people have decided, from their positions of ignorance and stupidity that it is worse to either be blind or deaf. What I say is that it is worse to be both for then you suffer the problems of both and, just as the mixing of two colours make a third, so do the mixing of two disabilities make a third one, distinct from either of the other two.
Simon told me he had been in hospital – A scary and unnerving experience for anyone. My first thought was:
“How did the nurses communicate with you”? Or
“Did they even communicate with you”?
Hardly anyone knows the manual and the plight of the deaf-blind is never discussed on radio or TV. Where is Simon’s privacy when he needs typetalk to make a phone call?
My last thought as I drifted off to sleep last night was:
“How can I make Simon’s life better”?
The answer isn’t by tut-tutting and saying it’s a shame. The answer isn’t to cry into my pillow thousands of sentimental tears of pity. Today, Simon himself provided the answer and suggested I write this article, telling my story or should I say our story – The story of how we re-established contact, thereby publicising the problems of those doubly handicapped in this way. Words are my business since I am a writer with a blog who has won a short story competition. I love language and words, music and poetry and I cannot imagine life without them so I agreed to do what Simon said. He, from his position of darkness and silence has spoken loudly and clearly to me:
“Help me tell it like it is”.
That was an offer I just could not refuse. His courage, fortitude and sense of humour, displayed from a position of unrelenting adversity, gives me courage and inspiration of my own so let’s all do what Simon says – Namely make the world of those without hearing and sight a more bearable and deaf-blind friendly place.
(The end).
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
JOURNEY TO THE LYNNE DISTRICT.
The train bound for the Lynne District is the 1406 from Loggerheads, calling at Upper and Lower Mandible; Stapes and Malleus. Those wishing to travel to the beautiful Islets of Langerhans must take the digestive express, leaving at 0800 AM, calling at Epiglottis; Upper Respiratory Tract; High Dudgeon; passing tnear the Lumbar Region to Upper and Lower Backache; Femur; Tibia and Fibula. Those bound for the phelanges must travel via Clavicle, through the carpal tunnel.
The mid-day train from Braintree also departs from Loggerheads but goes straight through to Meta-tarsals with only a short stop at Rear End.
Those departing for Cilia and Alveoli must go via Sternum and Upper Respiratory Tract.
All trains, including the through train toMeta-tarsals eventually must terminate In Extremis. Passengers are requested to make sure that they do not block up corridors or leave luggage unattended. Have a good trip. Thank you.
The mid-day train from Braintree also departs from Loggerheads but goes straight through to Meta-tarsals with only a short stop at Rear End.
Those departing for Cilia and Alveoli must go via Sternum and Upper Respiratory Tract.
All trains, including the through train toMeta-tarsals eventually must terminate In Extremis. Passengers are requested to make sure that they do not block up corridors or leave luggage unattended. Have a good trip. Thank you.
Monday, March 8, 2010
AS THE TWIG IS BENT.
My gran had many wise proverbs which she used to quote to me, one of which being: “As the twig is bent so the tree shall grow”. This was what she used to say to me when she needed to discipline me for something or when a public scandal or horrific story, such as that concerning Venables and Thompson and little James Bulger was in the news.
While there can be no doubt that what these children did was horrific, there can also be no doubt in my mind that their parents should bear an equal if not greater responsibility for their crime. Yes it is undeniable that ten-year-old children know the difference between right and wrong but only if they have been socialised. I know the difference between pepper and sault when they are in identical pots, and sugar and salt but only because I’ve been told the names, introduced to the sweetness of sugar and the saltiness of salt. The point I make is that these children’s consciences were not honed or even allowed to form.
I remember from my own childhood how one of my siblings (the older one) was not encouraged to be loving and considerate to me. To be loving and considerate; caring and kind to the blind sibling was considered sissy and not particularly macho. As a result the sibling concerned thought it great fun to laugh at me; to tell me my eyes are ugly; to ridicule me as my mother did and to this day has nothing to do with me. What is puzzling though is that my other sibling, younger and more sensitive than the older surviving one, was caring; looked out for me and was protective and kind and I have fond memories of him though we grew apart; he took to drink and is now dead as a result.
What all this tells me is that each of us has a greater or lesser capacity for good and evil within us. My dead brother defied his upbringing to the extent that for much of his childhood he did not adhere to the practise of ridiculing and shunning the disabled one whereas our older sibling did despite having a supposed increased maturity and what should have been an ability to know better. Had we all come from a less dysfunctional family, doubtless we would have all been close and now the final surviving two of us would have been able to take solace in each other’s company and shared past and support one-another into our future.
Had Venables and Thompson, who have carried their own genetic make-up and nature with them, for good or for ill, from childhood into adulthood, been given the stability they needed then it may be that they wouldn’t now need false identities and a poor little boy wouldn’t be dead, leaving behind forever grieving parents.
All those who are quite rightly angry and outraged that these people are now free to possibly do the same again or commit other crimes of equal magnitude should surely, as I am, be outraged that the adults who gave birth to them are not themselves being made to undergo rehabilitation and are not also being subject to intense scrutiny. If they have had other children what has become of them? Have social workers been involved in keeping an eye on their other children and if not why not? How much have they been asked to financially contribute to their offspring’s upkeep and rehabilitation? Most pertinent of all though is, in my view at any rate, why is everyone not equally disgusted and appalled at what their parents have done in terms of damaging these people so much as to make them capable of doing what they did to little James?
When you have a child who is bad at maths or English, he has to work harder and you have to work harder to make him as good at it as he can be. When my older sibling showed an unkindness greater than the sum of their kindness, harder work needed to go in to minimise and frown upon that unkindness and teach that it was unacceptable. Had that happened to Venables and Thompson at the age they needed it – When the twigs they were started to grow the wrong way, maybe the trees they grew into wouldn’t now be so poisonous. I fear that now at least one of them is far too damaged to ever live outside in ordinary society but I hang onto the hope that Robert’s kinder self, if he has one, proves to be like my brother’s was and he becomes able to overcome his damaged past. What I know for certain is that if these children had been parented properly, James would now be the adult he was born to be and Denise and Ralph, his loving parents wouldn’t be forever mourning his loss as they are now forced to. While our sympathies and thoughts should always be with them, our anger and revulsion should maybe begin with Thompson and Venables but shouldn’t end there but instead should end with the apologies for parents that these children were saddled with.
(The end).
While there can be no doubt that what these children did was horrific, there can also be no doubt in my mind that their parents should bear an equal if not greater responsibility for their crime. Yes it is undeniable that ten-year-old children know the difference between right and wrong but only if they have been socialised. I know the difference between pepper and sault when they are in identical pots, and sugar and salt but only because I’ve been told the names, introduced to the sweetness of sugar and the saltiness of salt. The point I make is that these children’s consciences were not honed or even allowed to form.
I remember from my own childhood how one of my siblings (the older one) was not encouraged to be loving and considerate to me. To be loving and considerate; caring and kind to the blind sibling was considered sissy and not particularly macho. As a result the sibling concerned thought it great fun to laugh at me; to tell me my eyes are ugly; to ridicule me as my mother did and to this day has nothing to do with me. What is puzzling though is that my other sibling, younger and more sensitive than the older surviving one, was caring; looked out for me and was protective and kind and I have fond memories of him though we grew apart; he took to drink and is now dead as a result.
What all this tells me is that each of us has a greater or lesser capacity for good and evil within us. My dead brother defied his upbringing to the extent that for much of his childhood he did not adhere to the practise of ridiculing and shunning the disabled one whereas our older sibling did despite having a supposed increased maturity and what should have been an ability to know better. Had we all come from a less dysfunctional family, doubtless we would have all been close and now the final surviving two of us would have been able to take solace in each other’s company and shared past and support one-another into our future.
Had Venables and Thompson, who have carried their own genetic make-up and nature with them, for good or for ill, from childhood into adulthood, been given the stability they needed then it may be that they wouldn’t now need false identities and a poor little boy wouldn’t be dead, leaving behind forever grieving parents.
All those who are quite rightly angry and outraged that these people are now free to possibly do the same again or commit other crimes of equal magnitude should surely, as I am, be outraged that the adults who gave birth to them are not themselves being made to undergo rehabilitation and are not also being subject to intense scrutiny. If they have had other children what has become of them? Have social workers been involved in keeping an eye on their other children and if not why not? How much have they been asked to financially contribute to their offspring’s upkeep and rehabilitation? Most pertinent of all though is, in my view at any rate, why is everyone not equally disgusted and appalled at what their parents have done in terms of damaging these people so much as to make them capable of doing what they did to little James?
When you have a child who is bad at maths or English, he has to work harder and you have to work harder to make him as good at it as he can be. When my older sibling showed an unkindness greater than the sum of their kindness, harder work needed to go in to minimise and frown upon that unkindness and teach that it was unacceptable. Had that happened to Venables and Thompson at the age they needed it – When the twigs they were started to grow the wrong way, maybe the trees they grew into wouldn’t now be so poisonous. I fear that now at least one of them is far too damaged to ever live outside in ordinary society but I hang onto the hope that Robert’s kinder self, if he has one, proves to be like my brother’s was and he becomes able to overcome his damaged past. What I know for certain is that if these children had been parented properly, James would now be the adult he was born to be and Denise and Ralph, his loving parents wouldn’t be forever mourning his loss as they are now forced to. While our sympathies and thoughts should always be with them, our anger and revulsion should maybe begin with Thompson and Venables but shouldn’t end there but instead should end with the apologies for parents that these children were saddled with.
(The end).
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