A KIND OF COURAGE.

This is the true story of a wonderful young man I met at college. Possibly deaf and blind as a result of Usher’s syndrome, he inspired me, made me laugh and came and stayed with me once when I lived in C. and I went to stay with him and his mum in the North of England and had a wonderful time.

The man I shall call Mark attended college with me. He was always blind but his hearing went over time which meant he had intelligible speech so I had no difficulty understanding him. Because he couldn’t hear very well or see at all, it made it very difficult to get around as we rely on our ears and eyes to orientate ourselves. Often Mark would lose his way and I would help him and if I didn’t someone else would, so loved was he by staff and students alike.

Like me he had a love of music though he didn’t hear it with the same degree of accuracy that I can which saddened me but he was up with all the latest chart toppers and pop bands and artists and years later surprised me by being able to tell me that:

“I love you from the bottom of my pencil case”

Came from “Song for whoever” by The Beautiful South. I’d not heard this song before till one day I rang him up raving about. It. Yes I did say rang him because he had amplification on his phone.

Now I’m a lazy article – Hating to move anything but my mouth and my hands but Mark was a different kettle of fish. He entered with gusto and enthusiasm into everything at college including sports day events which I loathed beyond belief. Thank goodness it wasn’t compulsory as it was at school. Near the end of term one year “Wilkie” the sports coach said:

“I have one more medal to give away and I propose awarding it to Mark X for effort”.

Because of Mark’s disabilities he came last in every race and was the last to know that he had been awarded this prize. To a man and woman the whole college cheered. The racket was so loud that even Mark heard it and began clapping too. I, true Cancerian that I am promptly began crying. The tears rolling down my face as I clapped with the best of ‘em! I told you I like moving my hands! In the end Mark was manhandled to the front of the hall as people said:

“Come on Mark you div”!

(Or the seventies equivalent)

“It’s for you”!

Utterly surprised and with his usual modesty he just couldn’t understand why he’d been given it.

Later when I spoke to him I said:

“Where’s your medal then? Let’s have a look”.

“Oh it’s in my pocket”

He said.

“I don’t want to boast”.

Horrified I said:

“Not for long it ain’t mate”,

And promptly fished round in his pockets till I found it. I made sure he wore it.

We corresponded long after he left college and I found out that he got a job proof reading Braille books for the National Library for the Blind and as I say I went to stay with his mum and him.

He was another one who held me together when I lost my husband and got very low. One day after I’d regularly sent him the words to pop songs he could no longer hear and reports of what was going on in the news I heard from “Sense” the national deaf-blind charity in the U.K to the effect that I’d been awarded a Deaf-blind friendly award. I couldn’t understand how I came to get it and when I rang Mark up to tell him (by this time I had to speak very slowly and clearly indeed or he couldn’t hear me or understand me) he said he’d awarded it to me or rather recommended me for it to cheer me up and because of what I’d done by sending him song lyrics and reports of news bulletins’ contents. I was overwhelmed.

People said I ought to have contacted the paper, including “Sense” but I couldn’t. I just couldn’t bring myself to seem to be making capital out of his misfortune. One day he was thrilled because he had the tune of: “Give her the Day” a little known song by a folk singer whose name I may spell incorrectly (Jackie Whitren). I loved it and can still remember every word of it so I sent the words to him.

When he stayed with me I cooked for the two of us but one day there was an accident as he came towards me while I was carrying boiling tea. He bumped into the mug and some of it went on the floor. In order for him to hear what I said it meant I had to stand over him so if he asked me a question while I was in my kitchen I had to leave what I was doing to answer it.

This story of a man who was too modest to wear his medal and not too proud to come last in a race has stayed with me all my life. He is another unsung hero which makes the world a better place. His brother is a Jewish historian whom I have heard on the radio occasionally and all I can say is:

“If you ever read this, knowing your brother has enriched my life and being his brother must surely have done yours”.