jeudi, mai 17, 2007
just listen to the music of the traffic in the city
Every time I see a blind person in a city by themselves, I think about how brave they have to be to persist in participating in a world where, you know, eyesight comes in pretty handy. I've seen this one man at my transit stop, waiting at a corner to cross the street as the buses whip by in near-constant succession. The Hurdman stop near our building is sort of a hub and major transfer point for a lot of bus routes, so during rush hour it can be an overwhelming place if you don't know what you're doing. This man is basically reliant on the kindness of strangers: it is the duty of bus drivers to announce their route number to him, and he must call out to people approaching for assistance in crossing the busy road in front of him.
Like many cities, the buses in Ottawa can get pretty damn crowded. This morning was another situation where people were jamming themselves in up by the driver, including a blind man with his guide dog. He was cool with standing, but it seemed wrong somehow. As he stood there, though, I was intrigued by his appearance. This was a good-looking man, with a nicely trimmed beard and hair perfectly styled. I assumed he had a good woman at home providing feedback, but then again, maybe he's mastered the grooming-sans-seeing aspect of his life. He looked confident, standing there on the bus, minding his own business and his face giving away no anxiety at being in such a tight situation with his canine companion.
I remember seeing another blind man in Calgary, the "aggressive caner". He would walk down the street at lunch, using his cane very assertively, giving a full sweep of the sidewalk in front of him - you didn't want to get in his way! I have to wonder how many blind people end up with sprained ankles and other random injuries from their necessary proceeding-with-blind-faith.
I would be a terrible blind person. I like to plan for every contingency, prepare for every mis-step, rely only on myself to accomplish tasks; I simply could not just throw myself into an unfamiliar situation, not knowing if the bus driver would remember to tell me which bus he's driving, or if somebody would feel generous enough to help me cross the street. Absolute independence is a kind of self-insulation when you think about it: if I don't really need you, you can't let me down.
I'm taking a spring/summer class called "the history of political thought". It's pretty much a philosophy class. Expect more deep thoughts such as this... | ¶ 11:56 p.m.
Like many cities, the buses in Ottawa can get pretty damn crowded. This morning was another situation where people were jamming themselves in up by the driver, including a blind man with his guide dog. He was cool with standing, but it seemed wrong somehow. As he stood there, though, I was intrigued by his appearance. This was a good-looking man, with a nicely trimmed beard and hair perfectly styled. I assumed he had a good woman at home providing feedback, but then again, maybe he's mastered the grooming-sans-seeing aspect of his life. He looked confident, standing there on the bus, minding his own business and his face giving away no anxiety at being in such a tight situation with his canine companion.
I remember seeing another blind man in Calgary, the "aggressive caner". He would walk down the street at lunch, using his cane very assertively, giving a full sweep of the sidewalk in front of him - you didn't want to get in his way! I have to wonder how many blind people end up with sprained ankles and other random injuries from their necessary proceeding-with-blind-faith.
I would be a terrible blind person. I like to plan for every contingency, prepare for every mis-step, rely only on myself to accomplish tasks; I simply could not just throw myself into an unfamiliar situation, not knowing if the bus driver would remember to tell me which bus he's driving, or if somebody would feel generous enough to help me cross the street. Absolute independence is a kind of self-insulation when you think about it: if I don't really need you, you can't let me down.
I'm taking a spring/summer class called "the history of political thought". It's pretty much a philosophy class. Expect more deep thoughts such as this... | ¶ 11:56 p.m.
