I met James when I was twelve or thirteen years old. He was considerably older than I was when we met. You see, James was my best friend’s father, and that’s how I met him.
James was twenty two years old when he got to come home from ‘Nam. You would think that would have been a happy experience for him, but it was not. You see, while in the service, he had begun experiencing dizzy spells and weakness. He was taken out of the combat zone and placed in an office job, but the spells kept coming at a faster rate. Finally, the doctors determined that James had diabetes, and he was given an honorable discharge to go home to his wife and son. James started slowly experiencing the loss of his sight, and was soon forced to quit his job right before Sue, the middle daughter, was born. James’ wife, Ann, went to work when Sue was around a year old in a nursing home kitchen on the evening shift and worked eight to ten hour shifts in order to make ends meet while James stayed at home with John and Sue during the evenings.
By the time I came into the picture, James’ diabetes had advanced and he was completely blind and insulin dependant. Not only was he watching after two pre-pubescent children, they had also had another daughter who was much younger. He had taken care of all three kids their whole lives, and had never seen two of them at all. For the most part, the kids were always happy (save for the usual pre-teen drama), and they lived in a loving environment; the kids watched out for dad and dad watched out for the kids. James welcomed me into the fold like I was one of his own, and cared for me like he did his own kids.
James taught me many things during the precious time I spent with him. You see, James was a bright man who was always coming up with “inventions” in his head. He would lay awake in bed at night, drawing figures in the air above his head with his finger of “blueprints” for things that he saw in his mind’s eye. Many a morning, James and I would wake up before the rest of the kids and have a cup of coffee and then go out to the shop to build his latest device. (His devices were usually always contraptions that would help him out around the house, since he could not see.) James would tell me the measurements and the angles, and I would mark, cut, and assemble. I learned valuable things from James, indeed. Not the least of which was a strong work ethic, and the ability to follow instructions. Mine and James’ contraptions always worked, and I am happy that I did what I could to help him.
James also taught me how to play the guitar. James was a huge Beatles fan, and the only person I knew that could play their songs. I lent him one of my guitars, and he (having not played in awhile, he had to relearn the songs) taught me a great number of the Beatles songs. I never asked him for the guitar back.
During the summers, James and I would spend hours talking and joking about things. Finally, one day when I was around eighteen years old, I told James that I would always consider him my “second dad”, and James cried tears of joy and hugged me tight. James was not an overly affectionate man.
James died when I was twenty two years old. I cried like I had lost a parent. He not only taught me many things, he also inspired me to never be afraid of my limitations because he certainly was not put off by his.
It pains me to think that so many people in our society feel that a blind person is somehow less capable of doing things than anyone else is. Have we really not come any further than that? I would never assume that every situation with a blind person would be like James’, nor would I assume that they would be as gifted and caring as he was, but you will never know unless they are given a chance to prove themselves.
Just to deny anyone an opportunity to prove themselves based solely on a “disability” is sad, and so very far below people in what is supposed to be an “advanced” society.
That is all I have to say on it, other than there is not a day that goes by that I do not miss James terribly.
Peace, wayf
