     THE BRAILLE MONITOR
Vol. 43, No. 7     July, 2000

     Barbara Pierce, Editor


     Published in inkprint, in Braille, and on cassette by

     THE NATIONAL FEDERATION OF THE BLIND

     MARC MAURER, PRESIDENT


     National Office
     1800 Johnson Street
     Baltimore, Maryland  21230
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     Web Page address: http://www.nfb.org



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     THE NATIONAL FEDERATION OF THE BLIND IS NOT AN ORGANIZATION
     SPEAKING FOR THE BLIND--IT IS THE BLIND SPEAKING FOR THEMSELVES





ISSN 0006-8829

Vol. 43, No. 7, July, 2000
     Contents

NFB Sues for ATM Access     

It's a New Day at BESB     
     by Donna Balaski, M.D.

Thanks, But No Thanks     
     by Jim Marks

DSS Offices and the Age-old Lure of Custodialism:
Are We Going Back?     
     by Peggy Elliott

Informed Choice and the Empowerment Circle     
     by James H. Omvig

A Visit to Kenya, East Africa     
     by Ed Cohen

First Down and the Field!     
     by Stephen O. Benson

Another Federationist at Work:
Gail Bryant Honored     

The White Cane     
     by Guy M. Masters

This Is the Way We Wash Our Clothes     
     by Barbara Pierce

Blindness Can't Stop Skydivers     
     by Mike Patty

Of Milk Cartons and Belief     
     by Noel Nightingale

You Can Do It, Too!
Capital Campaigning Is Great Fun     
     by Jim and Sharon Omvig

Capital Campaign Pledge Form

Recipes     

Monitor Miniatures     

     Copyright (c) 2000 National Federation of the Blind

[PHOTO/CAPTION 1a: Guests listen attentively to after-breakfast remarks at a 
Community Partnership gathering in the NFB's dining room.]

On May 11 this year 150 Baltimore business people attended a Community 
Partnership Board breakfast in the fourth-floor dining room at the National 
Center for the Blind. They listened to remarks by tennis star Pam Shriver and 
had a chance to become acquainted with the National Federation of the Blind. 
Following breakfast, the group briefly toured the International Braille and 
Technology Center for the Blind on the Center's second floor.

 [PHOTO/CAPTION 1b: Department of Technology Director Curtis Chong demonstrates 
a refreshable Braille display to a group of Baltimore business people gathered 
around him in the International Braille and Technology Center.]

[Photo/Caption 2: Curtis Chong uses earphones to access one of the Royal Bank of 
Canada's talking ATMs.]
     NFB Sues for ATM Access

     From the Editor: At 1:00 p.m. on Wednesday, May 24, 2000, President Maurer, 
Technology Department Director Curtis Chong, and NFB attorneys  Daniel Goldstein 
and Paul Kay met members of the press at the National Press Club in Washington, 
D.C., to announce that the NFB, its D.C. affiliate, the Disability Rights 
Council of Greater Washington, and several blind individuals were filing suit 
against Chevy Chase Bank, Rite Aid Corp., and Diebold over ATM accessibility. 
The NFB had been discussing and planning such a move for a number of months. 
Last fall Chong opened a checking account at the Royal Bank of Canada and then 
traveled to Toronto to be video-taped independently conducting financial 
business using one of the bank's talking automatic teller machines (ATMs). 
According to Rob Evans, Director of Self Services for NCR, a Diebold competitor 
in the ATM-development and production field, it is not yet possible for every 
kind of ATM transaction to be voiced by audio software, but most can be. Mr. 
Chong, the Director of Technology 
     for the National Federation of the Blind, contradicted Mr. Evans's 
statement, saying that it is most definitely possible to articulate all kinds of 
ATM transactions, especially if the designers of these transactions make plans 
to do so early on. Chevy Chase Bank's 800 ATMs in the Maryland and Virginia 
suburbs of Washington and in tourist attractions and other public places in the 
nation's capital are inaccessible to everyone who cannot read the ATMs' tiny 
computer screens. In addition, despite the availability of truly accessible ATMs 
today, in fulfillment of an agreement with Rite Aid, Diebold has chosen to place 
inaccessible models of its ATMs in Rite Aid drugstores.
     The ADA mandates that instructions and all information for use in ATMs be 
made accessible to and independently usable by blind people. But the law's 
language is far from specific. As a result Diebold argues that its current 
access arrangements are a sufficient accommodation. The NFB maintains that a 
static set of Braille key labels cannot provide access to complex financial 
activity for which sighted users depend upon a video display to conduct their 
ATM business.
     As always in a lawsuit, the press conference was only the first step in a 
long process that will unfold in the coming months, perhaps years. Here is the 
press release the NFB circulated. It is followed by an article that appeared 
late that same afternoon:

     For Immediate Release

NATIONAL FEDERATION OF THE BLIND SUES OVER ATM ACCESSIBILITY
Suits Against Chevy Chase Bank, Rite Aid, and Diebold Charge ADA Violations
WASHINGTON, D.C. (5/24/00)

     In a warning shot to ATM owners and operators nationwide, the National 
Federation of the Blind (NFB), its local affiliate the National Federation of 
the Blind of the District of Columbia, the Disability Rights Council of Greater 
Washington, and several blind individuals filed suit today against Chevy Chase 
Bank, charging that the bank's more than 800 automated teller machines (ATMs) in 
Maryland, Virginia, and the District of Columbia are in violation of the 
Americans with Disabilities Act (ADA).
      In a separate suit the plaintiffs charged Rite Aid Corporation and 
Diebold, one of the leading manufacturers of automated teller machines (ATMs), 
with violating the ADA. 
      The lawsuit against Chevy Chase Bank states that the bank's ATMs--many of 
which are located in major visitor sites such as the Smithsonian (including the 
National Air and Space Museum), the National Zoo, and all three area airports--
are inaccessible to blind people because they use computer screen text prompts 
to guide customers through transactions. These screen text prompts are not 
translated into a medium that is accessible to the blind, such as audio output.
     A recent agreement between Diebold and Rite Aid under which Diebold is 
installing and operating ATMs in Rite Aid stores nationwide also violates the 
provisions of the ADA, according to the plaintiffs, because the ATMs being 
installed use screen text prompts that are inaccessible to the blind.
      "Our nation's capital should set the example for the nation to follow by 
being fully accessible to persons who are blind or otherwise disabled," says NFB 
President Dr. Marc Maurer. "It is distressing to know that the only ATMs 
available in such national treasures as the Smithsonian are inaccessible to the 
blind. It is equally troubling that a company like Diebold, which manufactures 
and sells voice-output ATMs that can be used independently by the blind, has 
chosen instead to install machines in Rite Aid stores that rely solely on screen 
text prompts."
      The two lawsuits, both of which were filed in U.S. District Court for the 
District of Columbia, ask the court to order the defendants "to make the 
necessary technological modifications to their ATMs to allow access by persons 
who are blind or visually impaired," says NFB attorney Daniel Goldstein.
      Because Diebold manufactures voice-output ATMs, but chose not to install 
them in Rite Aid outlets, the suit also seeks punitive damages against Diebold 
under the provisions of the D.C. Human Rights Act. "The bottom line is that the 
technology exists to make these ATMs fully accessible," Maurer said.
     "Unfortunately, the defendants are installing ATMs that are inaccessible to 
the blind, even though the cost for voice-output ATMs is negligible, and 
providing them would not fundamentally alter the nature of ATM services or 
retail drugstore facilities."
      The ADA requires that "instructions and all information for use [in ATMs] 
be made accessible to, and independently usable by, persons with vision 
impairments." While some of the defendants' ATMs have Braille keypads and 
labels, the suit charges that this feature is "an ineffective accommodation 
under the ADA."
     "Not all persons who are blind can read Braille," explains Dr. Maurer.
     "Moreover, Braille keypads and labels are static. They do not provide 
accessible and independently usable, sequential, computer screen instructions to 
guide a blind customer through a bank transaction. As a result blind customers 
basically have little choice but to rely on others to do their banking for 
them."
      According to the NFB, the only effective means to make ATMs accessible to 
the blind is voice-guidance technology, which allows blind persons to hear step-
by-step instructions. Voice-guidance technology is accessed by plugging personal 
headphones into a universal audio jack installed in the ATM or by using a 
telephone handset, also installed in the ATM.
     The NFB has long been actively involved in promoting adaptive technologies 
for the blind so that blind people can live and work independently in today's 
technology-dependent world.
      The organization runs the International Braille and Technology Center for 
the Blind at its headquarters in Baltimore, Maryland. The Center, which houses 
more than $2 million worth of hardware and software designed specifically for 
the blind, is the world's most extensive demonstration and evaluation center for 
computer-related technology serving the needs of blind people.

     That was the press release, and it wasn't long before members of the press 
covering technology and the ATM industry took note. The following story appeared 
in the May 24, 2000, issue of ATMMagazine.com, an Internet publication. 

     ATM accessibility

     The National Federation of the Blind drew a line in the sand for the ATM 
industry today.
     Contending that the industry has not done enough to make its machines 
accessible to the visually impaired, the Federation--along with its District of 
Columbia affiliate, the Disability Rights Council of Greater Washington, and 
several blind individuals--filed two lawsuits charging ATM deployers with 
violating the Americans with Disabilities Act.
     NFB President Marc Maurer said his organization felt compelled to file the 
suits because other, less aggressive efforts have failed. "We have tried 
negotiation and tried urging the regulators, and it hasn't worked. Today we are 
asking the court to make the requirements of the law plain."
     In the first suit the NFB names Chevy Chase Bank, noting that the bank's 
800 ATMs, many of which are located in high-profile sites like the Smithsonian 
and the National Zoo, are inaccessible to blind people because they use computer 
text screen prompts to guide customers through transactions.
     "Our nation's capital should set the example for the nation to follow by 
being fully accessible to patrons who are blind or otherwise disabled," Maurer 
said. "It is distressing to know that the only ATMs available in such national 
treasures as the Smithsonian are inaccessible to the blind."
     In a separate suit the NFB charges Rite Aid Corporation and Diebold, the 
nation's leading manufacturer in 1999, with violating the ADA. Diebold is 
installing and operating ATMs in Rite Aid stores nationwide under an agreement 
signed last year. Again the NFB contends the machines use screen text prompts 
that are inaccessible to the blind.
     Because Diebold manufactures voice-activated ATMs, but did not install them 
in Rite Aid stores, the suit also seeks punitive damages against the 
manufacturer under the provisions of the D.C. Human Rights Act.
     "The bottom line is that the technology exists to make these ATMs fully 
accessible," Maurer said. "Unfortunately, the defendants are installing ATMs 
that are inaccessible to the blind, even though the cost for voice-activated 
ATMs is negligible and providing them would not fundamentally alter the nature 
of ATM services or retail drugstore facilities."
     While Diebold did not comment on the pending litigation, spokesperson 
Joseph Richardson said, "Diebold firmly believes its products meet current 
federal guidelines regarding access for persons with disabilities. Diebold 
actively promotes a wide range of solutions that help consumers access and use 
its products."
     And, he added, "Diebold is committed to work within any and all legal 
requirements to help consumers access its products."
     The lawsuits, both of which were filed in U.S. District Court for the 
District of Columbia, ask the court to order the defendants "to make the 
necessary technological modifications to their ATMs to allow access by persons 
who are blind or visually impaired," said NFB attorney Daniel Goldstein.
     The ADA requires that "instructions and all information for use (in ATMs) 
be made accessible to, and independently usable by, persons with visual 
impairments." While some of the Chevy Chase Bank and Rite Aid ATMs have Braille 
keypads and labels, the suits charge that these features are "an ineffective 
accommodation under the ADA."
     "Not all persons who are blind can read Braille," Maurer said. "Moreover, 
Braille keypads and labels are static. They do not provide accessible and 
independently usable, sequential computer screen instructions to guide a blind 
customer through a bank transaction. As a result blind customers basically have 
little choice but to rely on others to do their banking for them."
     According to the NFB, the most effective way to make ATMs accessible to the 
blind is voice guidance technology, which allows blind ATM users to hear step-
by-step instructions. The user typically activates the voice guidance feature by 
plugging headphones into a universal audio jack installed in the ATM or by using 
a telephone handset installed in the machine.
     In a written statement W. Scott McSween, executive vice president of Chevy 
Chase Bank, said, "Talking ATMs show promise. However, the challenge is that the 
technology is still in development and may not be readily achievable.
     "Chevy Chase Bank will continue to pursue technologies that make banking 
services more convenient and accessible to all consumers and would be pleased to 
work with representatives from the National Federation of the Blind in this 
regard."
     At a press conference announcing the lawsuits, the NFB showed a videotape 
featuring an audio ATM deployed by the Royal Bank of Canada. The bank began 
developing the audio ATM in 1996 and has installed fifteen of them across 
Canada, mostly in Ontario.
     Several U.S. financial institutions, including Wells Fargo, Citibank, and 
Bank of America, have announced plans to install audio ATMs. Citibank has 
deployed five such machines in California. Wells Fargo intends to install twenty 
audio ATMs in California this year, then roll the technology out to 1,500 
California locations over the next three years.
     BofA, the nation's largest ATM owner, has installed four in California and 
is testing about a dozen more there. The bank's plans call for a total of 2,500 
ATMs in Florida and California during the next three years.
     BofA spokesperson Ann DeFabio said the bank may install more machines in 
other states as well. "We strive to meet, if not exceed, the ADA standards 
wherever we do business."
     Maurer hinted that more lawsuits could follow. "This is the beginning," he 
said. "We are not prepared to have these machines and others like them 
established throughout the U.S. in a continuing pattern that prevents an entire 
class of people from having the opportunity to do the same kind of business and 
banking as the rest of society."


[PHOTO/CAPTION 3: Donna Balaski]
     It's a New Day at BESB
     by Donna Balaski, M.D.

     From the Editor: In the April, 2000, issue we reprinted large portions of a 
report by the Connecticut Attorney General on the activities of the by then past 
director of the state agency serving the blind, the Board of Education and 
Services for the Blind (BESB). The Attorney General is a Democrat, and the 
Governor and his BESB appointees are Republicans, so politics clearly entered 
into the equation. But it was also clear that inappropriate conduct had been 
taking place and that efforts were now being made to correct the problems.
     The Governor appointed one of his savvier lieutenants, Lawrence Alibozek, 
as the new agency director charged with making peace with consumers and putting 
the BESB house in order. Early indications are that Alibozek is doing exactly 
that.
     In late March he hired Federationist Dr. Donna Balaski as the Director of 
Community Affairs and Public Relations. It is still early days in the new 
administration, but Donna reports remarkable changes in the attitudes and 
atmosphere at BESB. Here is her preliminary report on what is happening these 
days in the Connecticut agency:
**********
     Over the last four months the Board of Education and Services for the Blind 
(BESB) ended one chapter in its 107-year history and has begun a new one. 
Governor Rowland named Lawrence Alibozek the new Executive Director on January 
1, 2000. The 140 days since his appointment have led to a substantial number of 
improvements; this has been my observation from both outside and inside the 
Agency.
     Larry Alibozek, BESB's Executive Director, created an open-door policy. 
This invitation was extended not only to the staff but to the community as well. 
I met with him in late February. Our conversation revolved mostly around my 
experiences as a client of the agency, some of which were good and some of which 
were not so good. We discussed some of the philosophical concepts that I learned 
from the NFB's Joanne Wilson while I was a student at the Louisiana Center for 
the Blind. Mr. Alibozek was interested in this philosophy, which states that 
with proper attitudes, skills training, and opportunities blindness can be 
reduced to a physical nuisance. I believed that I had the proper skills and 
attitude, and Mr. Alibozek gave me the opportunity to aid in restructuring the 
agency.
     Not only is there now an atmosphere of openness and understanding at BESB, 
but significant, positive action has begun to occur. One of the most noticeable 
transformations has been in the disposition of the staff. One staff member 
recently commented, "I love coming into work now. "Another staff member said, "I 
just wanted to put the past where it belongs, in the past, and move on." A new 
management team has been assembled at BESB and has already helped the staff move 
toward creating a positive future at the agency. As a result a new enthusiasm 
abounds, and from this attitude have come many great ideas and energized 
strategic planning for the future.
     The Adult Services Department has created new solutions to old problems, 
which will better serve adults who do not plan to return to work. Some of the 
programs have merged; for example, the Business Enterprises Program is now 
consolidated into the Vocational Rehabilitation Program. A new Public Relations 
Department has been created, and there is an increased effort in community 
outreach and community education. Many more organizational and operational 
improvements are occurring.
     I became the director of community affairs and public relations on the last 
day of March. Since arriving at BESB, I have found the challenges much larger 
than I anticipated, but not insurmountable. Mr. Alibozek's function at BESB is 
to guide and restructure the main functions of the agency while each manager is 
responsible and empowered to provide the appropriate pieces of the foundation. 
Many of the changes that must occur are internal and may not be apparent to the 
outside observer. Small changes can have dramatic effects. Change is in the air, 
and we are moving forward.
     Many positive moves toward creating partnerships with other community-based 
groups have occurred. These include the Lions Club, Fidelco Guide Dog 
Foundation, and the Oak Hill School/Connecticut Institute for the Blind. In 
addition the Attorney General's Office, with the support of BESB, has worked 
diligently with the NFB to create accessible Web sites for people who use 
screen-reading software. (See the June, 2000, issue of the Braille Monitor.) The 
future holds nothing but promise.
     In the brief time I have spent at BESB I have found that all programs and 
services possess a complex integration, not only within the agency, but also 
with the community, and other agencies too. Change cannot happen overnight but 
is continuing and will continue to take place. Under the guidance of a good 
leader, a great staff, and members of the community BESB will transform 
attitudes about blindness in Connecticut.
     As I say, it's a new day at BESB.


[PHOTO/CAPTION 4: Jim Marks]
     Thanks, But No Thanks
     by Jim Marks

     From the Editor: Jim Marks has been an officer in the Montana affiliate of 
the National Federation of the Blind since 1992 and has served as his chapter's 
Secretary since 1995. Since 1988 he has been the director of disability services 
for students at the University of Montana-Missoula, and he served two terms as 
chairman of the Special Interest Group on Blindness of the Association on Higher 
Education and Disability (AHEAD). For a number of years he has been a columnist 
on disability issues for mainstream publications. In short, Jim Marks knows the 
disability scene in higher education. As we approach the tenth anniversary of 
the passage of the Americans with Disabilities Act, it is interesting to 
consider what impact the ADA has had on students and the institutions that work 
with them and sometimes against them in the educational process. This is what 
Jim has to say:

     During the debate before the passage of the Americans with Disabilities Act 
(ADA), the National Federation of the Blind took a position that surprised many. 
The NFB said it would oppose the passage of the Americans with Disabilities Act 
if the bill failed to include a clause which gave protected citizens the right 
to refuse an accommodation.
     At first I wondered what the Federation was up to. Reject an accommodation? 
Why? But now that the law is ten years older and I'm ten years wiser, the reason 
for the NFB position stands immutably clear. If we didn't have the right to 
refuse an accommodation, those with good and bad intentions would rob the blind 
of our self-determination.
     I ought to know. I am the director of a disability service at a public 
university. The things that take place in higher education exemplify why the NFB 
was right on in protecting the fundamental human right of saying, "Thanks, but 
no thanks."
     Today's blind student faces a learning experience which differs 
significantly from that of ten or more years ago. Now disability service offices 
carry out many of the services formerly provided by commissions for the blind 
and vocational rehabilitation agencies. Although many colleges have had such 
offices since the mid-70's, many more have proliferated since the ADA took 
effect. We are an infant industry that is growing by leaps and bounds.
     In 1988 I served about 120 students with an annual budget of $13,000 per 
year, a figure which included my half-time salary. Now my office serves over 600 
students with a budget of $340,000 per year. Where it used to be just me working 
part time, now there are ten staff, forty student workers, and some eighty 
volunteers. And my school isn't alone in this kind of growth. According to the 
American Council on Education the number of students with disabilities in higher 
education has grown to about 9 percent of any student body. From my observations 
of other offices it is common for about 2 to 6 percent of a student body to 
enroll with the disability service office.
     Done properly, a disability service stays out of the student's way. Done 
poorly, the office either kills the student with kindness or with outrageous, 
power-robbing controls. Believe you me, as a Federationist working deep in the 
trenches of higher education, it pays for blind students to be wary of the 
people who hold jobs like mine.
     The bulk of my colleagues don't know much about blindness. Most offices 
gear themselves to serve students with other kinds of disabilities. Blind 
students make up tiny portions of the students enrolled. Therefore blind 
students must be prepared to educate their disability services coordinators 
about blindness. There are no knights in shining armor. Blind students must look 
to themselves as their best resource in dealing with college.
     Over-accommodation trips up more blind students than any other flaw in the 
disability services. Simply put, over-accommodation means doing for the student 
what he or she is perfectly capable of doing for him- or herself. For instance, 
some blind students must unfortunately use human note takers in course lectures. 
For some students with other kinds of disabilities note taking levels the 
playing field. But blind students can and do take notes for themselves. The 
disability service, out of ignorance, applies note takers as a one-size-fits-all 
solution to a problem that doesn't need to exist for the blind. When the able 
student accepts the over-accommodation, he or she pays a price. Career success 
depends on one's ability to manage information. Employers say, "Don't know how 
to take notes for yourself? Sorry. We're looking for competent employees who can 
contribute to our organization."
     Another example of over-accommodation involves the sandwiching of the 
disability service between the student and the instructor. Blind students must 
connect with their professors. If the disability service office intervenes in 
this relationship, it is over-accommodating.
     Many know about the letters of verification that disability service offices 
write for students and faculty. The letters verify that the student has a 
disability and a right to accommodation. Sometimes the disability service office 
gives the letters to the student to give to instructors. Sometimes the office 
sends them directly to the instructors. In most cases the letter of verification 
is an option, one that blind students really don't need. The blind student 
should be able to articulate a personal request for accommodation. But some 
schools compel students to use these letters. Here's how it works. The 
disability service office tells the faculty that they should demand a letter 
from the disability services before any academic adjustments are granted. In 
this way, the rhetoric goes, the institution is protected best. Control rests 
with the disability service office, its importance skyrockets, and the empire 
expands. Meanwhile the student holds on to the letter as though it is the only 
passport to access. Schools have now created dependencies where none existed 
before. Thanks to the "Thank you, but no thank you" clause, the cycle of 
custodialism may be broken by the blind student with spunk.
     Another battle--one that surprises many--must be waged over readers. The 
ADA requires communication within a program to be just as effective for the 
blind as for others. Oftentimes alternative formats such as Braille, tape 
cassettes, large print, and computer texts are used to assure communication. But 
some schools go so far as to say these alternatives are all that's required. 
Consequently they restrict the use of readers by blind students.
     A Midwest university ADA dispute resolution officer recently contacted me 
for technical assistance regarding a blind student's complaint against a 
restrictive policy on the use of readers. The policy placed all the controls in 
the hands of the disability service, not the blind student. The office 
recruited, hired, and monitored the readers. The policy even required that 
reading occur on the campus. Incredibly, the policy went so far as to prohibit 
the reader from reading anything twice. Fail to comply, the policy stated, and 
the service will be terminated, leaving only alternative formats as an option. 
The final kicker in this story was that the money for the reader program came 
from the rehabilitation agency rather than the university. It wasn't even their 
money; yet the controls choked self-determination by the student.
     Once I attended a conference of people who hold jobs like mine. There I 
participated in a workshop entitled something like this: "Custodians or Traffic 
Cops: Defining the Role of Disability Service Officers in Higher Education." The 
workshop organizers wanted to deliver an unsuspecting audience of do-gooders and 
control freaks a lesson in how to do it right. One presenter said something that 
stuck with me. He said the best disability services assure a process by which 
students achieve self-determination. This means the services are optional and 
put the student in the position of control. Sound familiar? It should, because 
self-determination rests at the core of Federation philosophy and practice.
     Disability service offices are probably here to stay, but how the offices 
conduct themselves has yet to be written in stone. The Federation's message of 
taking personal responsibility shapes best practices in disability services in 
higher education. We must remain vigilant about the seductions of over-
accommodation and the dangers of custodialism. Remember that saying "Thanks, but 
no thanks" is healthy. I, for one, am glad the NFB had the imagination to see 
what was coming and the good sense to protect our ability to do something about 
it.


[PHOTO/CAPTION 5: Peggy Elliott]
     DSS Offices and the Age-Old Lure of Custodialism:
     Are We Going Back?
     by Peggy Elliott

     From the Editor: Now that college students are younger than my children, I 
find myself and my educational experience being dismissed by my young friends. 
They are tactful and polite, but I can all but hear the thoughts going through 
their minds: "You developed Braille-writing speed taking college class notes 
with a slate and stylus? We depend on laptop computers and electronic note 
takers." "You had to retype a clean copy of papers to turn in? Thank God for the 
computer and spell check!" "You found, trained, and paid your own readers? What 
was life like without disabled students services?"
     I remember asking my mother if she had ever traveled in a covered wagon. 
Now I know how she felt. But contrary to the assessment of many of today's 
students, the fundamentals have not changed very much. Personal skills and 
competencies are still the foundation of success. Computers have added a few 
competencies to those a successful student must have, but aside from the great 
value of accurate typing in the old days, I can think of no skill that I 
developed doing things for myself in college that is not still of critical 
importance to academic and employment success today.
     Yet the movement on campuses since the rise of disabled student services 
and passage of the Americans with Disabilities Act has almost entirely been away 
from independent student management of disability-related matters. The lure of 
custodialism has always been strong; for today's students it is proving well-
nigh irresistible, confused as it has now become with the suggestion that it is 
nothing more or less than disability rights.
     This danger is not recent. Six years ago NFB Second Vice President Peggy 
Elliott wrote a letter to a college official in the state of Iowa warning of the 
threat and suggesting the way universities should be dealing with it. That 
letter has sat in my computer all this time waiting for me to find an 
opportunity to print it. With the appearance of Jim Marks's article, "Thanks, 
But No Thanks," that opportunity has now come. I asked Peggy to write a 
companion piece to his from the perspective of a savvy blind adult outside the 
halls of ivy. Here it is, beginning with her letter to the college official:

Grinnell, Iowa
June 28, 1994

Dear Dean:
     When we talked the other day, you mentioned that there is quite a bit of 
discussion about universities' having trouble providing books for blind 
students. Having been a blind undergraduate and a blind law student, I am quite 
familiar with the book situation. Here are my thoughts. I would appreciate any 
response you might have.
     Under Section 504 of the Rehabilitation Act and now under the Americans 
with Disabilities Act many believe that universities are required to provide 
books in alternative media for blind students. You mentioned a recent court case 
on the subject. I take a different position: the law should be interpreted in 
the way most conducive to helping blind students, and that is not university 
provision of books.
     The law as interpreted may or may not make such a requirement. Universities 
on behalf of their blind students have a strong interest in the law's being 
interpreted so that universities do not have this responsibility. This is not to 
be cheap or mean; it is to provide the blind student with a full learning 
environment.
     Even if it is not now, the law should be interpreted in such a way that its 
ends and the university's are served. The end of the law is to create 
opportunity; the end of the university is to educate. There is a way to do both.
     Here are some considerations I use in reaching my conclusion:
     1. The university's job is to educate. This means education, not only in 
specific disciplines, but in one's general preparedness for living. If the 
university misses this second mission, it fails the student even if it graduates 
a perfect specimen in the chosen discipline. 
     For blind and sighted students alike this means learning how to handle the 
responsibilities of adulthood. Everyone at a university is taking on new 
challenges, learning new directions. For the blind student this must necessarily 
include learning how to handle blindness-specific issues. One of these is 
learning how to handle the demands of acquiring information when most 
information is presented in ink print.
     Look at the issue this way. The blind student who can rely on others to 
locate his or her books, handouts, and tests in an alternative medium in college 
will get a rude shock when offering his or her services to a potential employer. 
No matter what the law seems to say, every employer has the right to watch its 
bottom line and to hire the most efficient workers it can get. The blind student 
who can rely on a college service to get a book cannot rely on an employer to 
get a report in an alternative medium. What does the former blind student and 
now the blind employee do when information is available only in print and must 
be digested, analyzed, and used in his or her job by Monday? Can the former 
blind student explain to the employer that someone else has to arrange to 
transcribe or record it? No. At that rate the blind employee will soon be a 
former employee.
     Providing services in the university setting should always take into 
account the student's need for education. In the case of getting books, 
material, any form of information, the blind student should be treated like 
other students--expected to gather and use the information for himself or 
herself. Disabled student service offices do their best work for blind students 
when they give students the freedom and the incentive to learn information-
gathering for themselves before a paycheck is riding on having the skill. 
Without the knowledge of how to gather and use information under all 
circumstances, the blind person is likely to spend a lot of years being a 
potential employee instead of an employee.
     2. Why do blind students not know this? All of them came through high 
school as blind students or have recently lost their sight. Neither group 
currently has the skills. Those who grew up as blind students know only that 
someone else always got their books for them. That's convenient; it worked in 
high school. So who's going to do it in college? The answer from the university 
should be: You are. We'll help you learn. We won't do it for you.
     3. On a job the blind person must be able to compete. He or she must have 
the skill to get and use information and the confidence that, no matter the 
situation, he or she can handle it. This confidence comes only from having 
successfully done just that in college. The skill involves working out your own 
mix of taping material ahead of time, finding already-taped or Brailled 
material, Brailling it yourself, and using readers.
     This last item is vital for blind students to learn. The world is not 
predictable. All of us who work get unexpected things on our desks or assigned 
to us. You have to be situated to respond to whatever comes. No employer wants 
someone who can only do the expected, the predictable, the pre-planned. 
Employers hire brains and initiative and creativity; at least employers of 
college graduates purport to do so. Colleges that provide all necessary 
information to blind students squelch this ability in the student--not meaning 
to, intending to follow the law, believing they are helping the blind student. 
Not true.
     Negotiating test rules with professors engenders self- confidence and 
flexibility--the professor doesn't always want to do what you want. Fending for 
yourself in the case of sudden handouts in print develops creativity and use of 
initiative. Adding an unannounced book or switching editions does the same. Let 
the blind student learn how to do these things. Help him or her; don't do it for 
the person.
     4. As I am sure is obvious by now, I think that disabled student service 
offices have a role in assisting blind students very different from the role 
many play. Their role should be to facilitate the blind student's learning how 
to do things for himself or herself, not doing them for the blind student. This 
concept is fully developed by Marci Page, an employee in a disabled student 
service office. [See the January, 1993, issue of the Braille Monitor.] I have 
attached a copy of her article with this letter.
     5. I know that these are not the usual ways of looking at this problem. 
Service providers faced with what appear to be crises or impending crises are 
oriented to solve the immediate problem as fast as they can. Interpretations 
(what I think are misinterpretations) of laws press in the same direction, all 
unwise. I think it is time to add the dimension of time to this analysis, 
deliberately to look beyond the immediate problem to the consequences of the 
apparent solution, and to be guided by this longer measurement. Aristotle would 
agree.
     Let me know what you think. As a blind student myself and as the friend of 
many blind students now working through these issues, I am vitally interested in 
how people react to these thoughts and vitally interested in finding ways of 
making them the prevailing wisdom. We in the blind community have worked out 
these ideas for ourselves; now we'd like to reach a meeting of the minds with 
others.
     One of the unintended consequences of this immediate problem-solving 
orientation is that colleges mentally classify the blind as subject to different 
rules. If you get your books through the school and if the school has not gotten 
the books, then the student cannot be held responsible for being behind in 
class. Nonsense. The student is a student and is there to learn. While learning 
the subject, the blind student is also learning how to learn, how to manage 
information. He or she should be held to the same standard of promptitude and 
completeness as other students and should be glad of it. Likewise, when a blind 
student can blame others for not producing so-called necessary help, the message 
is sent to the blind student's colleagues that the blind are subject to a 
different and softer standard. Bad for employment in the future--college 
colleagues are future employers; the blind student, too, comes to expect a 
softer standard and cannot fend in the real world when it hits.
     Reactions? Do you feel the urge to say I am unrealistic? Am I one of those 
exceptions who can handle the rough and tumble where most blind students can't? 
I have answers for these and other reactions. I would welcome a dialogue.

Sincerely yours,
Peggy Pinder Elliott

     I wrote the foregoing letter in 1994. Sadly I received no reaction from the 
dean who requested it and none from the colleagues to whom he said he was going 
to distribute it. I concluded at the time that my thoughts were so far removed 
from those of the dean and other recipients that they simply had nothing to say.
     In the intervening six years my opinions on the subject of DSS offices have 
only deepened. Here are a few thoughts in addition to those already mentioned:
     1. I perceive more and more reliance by blind people on the Americans with 
Disabilities Act as the cure for blindness. I don't mean that the ADA literally 
gives us sight. But its provisions are seen by all too many blind people as the 
appropriate trade-off for sight. It's never said this way; it's only thought. 
But the thought is poisonous to our independence. The thought is: Someone else 
is responsible, must take the actions I as a blind person cannot, and is 
available for blame when things don't go right.
     For blind students in college today this poisonous thought has its roots in 
today's misapplication of the full-inclusion approach to the education of blind 
children--familiarly known as mainstreaming. While not opposing full inclusion 
itself, I observe that its products--and most of the handful of students 
educated by other systems as well--all too often arrive at the doors of 
colleges, technical schools, or rehabilitation agencies without life-coping 
skills. Someone else has always gotten books, arranged classes, overridden 
inconvenient obstacles, and produced tests and handouts for them. In elementary 
and middle school this makes sense. But high school students should be moving 
toward handling these tasks for themselves to the same degree that their sighted 
peers do and even more so. Blind people will always access information 
differently, and we need to learn early and skillfully to acquire and process it 
for ourselves. Today this move is uncommon.
     The reason seems to be largely a management issue. It's easier to do things 
for a student than to take the time to teach him or her to do it. Teachers and 
administrators aren't around when the student hits college with no coping 
skills. But the DSS office is.
     Under the pressure of the perceived provisions of ADA, of human kindness, 
and of managing a situation to solution, colleges often replicate the system 
students are accustomed to. Provide, manage, accommodate, graduate. Again the 
college officials aren't around when the blind person seeks employment--if the 
blind person seeks employment, that is.
     2. Colleges using this approach in serving blind students are graduating 
men and women without coping skills. Everyone feels that success has been 
achieved when the diploma is awarded. Everyone, that is, except the blind 
person, who in a deep secret part of the soul knows that something is missing. 
Unfortunately, what is missing is life-coping skills, and many blind graduates 
never quite grapple with the employment market, feeling somehow unprepared.
     I'd hate to tell you how many times I have counseled blind graduates, full 
of professional and technical knowledge, who ultimately confess poor travel 
skills, poor literacy skills, poor information-gathering skills, and so on. The 
college graduate is baffled and puzzled by this lack of coping skills and unsure 
what to do about it. The answer, of course, is blindness training which includes 
life-coping skills as a necessary part of the training. But the college graduate 
is often reluctant to admit to himself or herself that there are still areas 
needing work. After all, sighted graduates are stepping into jobs, getting 
paychecks, buying homes, and getting on with their lives. The blind person 
doesn't feel ready and isn't sure why.
     Before ADA and the DSS office most of us who got through college had a 
system of coping skills by the end of the triumph or ordeal of graduation. It 
wasn't always easy. But college was an effective training ground.
     I would of course never maintain that we blind students back then got or 
that blind students today get the appropriate kind of support from vocational 
rehabilitation that this federal-state partnership program should provide. My 
point is that, without DSS and with minimal services from V.R., we blind 
students back then were forced to find methods for coping that began with 
reliance on ourselves. We used the basic principle I tried to explain to the 
dean: educational institutions are there to educate, and rehab is there to 
provide blindness-specific tools and support. Mixing the two makes no sense. I 
hear people today say things like "My rehab counselor says I have to get all my 
services from the college under ADA" and "That student would have done fine if 
his DSS office had only provided him the proper support." This is just another 
version of the same poisonous thinking that can rob a blind person of the chance 
for true self-sufficiency. It's also a shameful proof of the point 
Federationists have made for years that vocational rehabilitation is not doing 
its job.
     Why on earth anyone would think that an institution of higher learning 
should be in the job of rehabilitation, I don't know. But that's what is 
happening. Blind students today are told that they should get computers and 
readers and books in alternative media from their institutions, which in effect 
turns the college into a rehab agency. As we all know, nature abhors a vacuum, 
and rehab has certainly left a vast amount of vacuum to abhor in its alleged 
provision of services to blind students. Think of it: Congress passes ADA as a 
civil rights law to end discrimination against the disabled, and the next thing 
we know the ADA has been transformed into a mandate that colleges must provide 
readers! In reviewing this twisted logic, keep in mind that, if rehab had been 
doing its job all these years, there would be no need for colleges to 
contemplate providing sighted guides to take blind students to class or human 
note-takers to fill the literacy gap.
     Back to the main point: the job of educational institutions is to educate. 
We as blind students should interact with our colleges in the same way that 
other students do--registering for classes by ourselves, working out details of 
classroom performance ourselves, completing assignments or flunking for 
ourselves, and solving the myriad of tasks all sighted students are expected to 
perform on the way to graduation, just as they do. On the way we learn those 
same coping skills that sighted students learn. Don't forget for a minute that 
sighted students are doing the same thing. They fail to get instructions right, 
fail to get to the library to get the reserved material assimilated, don't know 
where a classroom is before they first go to look for it, take notes for 
themselves or do not as they decide, learn to perform all the tasks or to take 
the consequences. It's part of the educational process. Blind students should be 
doing the same thing; and, to the extent that we need different tools like 
computers or readers, we should be getting them from the rehab people, not the 
education people.
     So rehab doesn't work? You can't get enough reader time or the computer you 
need from rehab? Then beat on rehab! Find other students to do it with you. 
Recruit graduates (otherwise known as adult blind people) to serve on your team. 
Make rehab justify every refusal, every failure to function, every excuse and 
temporization. After all, rehab is the government. They work for whom? For us! 
Let us not permit their failure to be transformed into such a smothering safety 
net for the blind that none of us can ever truly succeed.
     On the subject of teamwork Dr. Jernigan once said: "Even animals in the 
jungle have sense enough to hunt in packs. The blind ought to be at least as 
intelligent." Instead we have permitted rehab's failures and the 
misinterpretation of the ADA to yield the current system: Each blind student 
functions alone without a team of fellow blind supporters and gets rehab from 
educational institutions that results in no coping skills upon graduation. I 
might add that learning how to hunt in packs and succeed is a life-coping skill 
in and of itself.
     The circumstances in which blind students find themselves, however, are 
different in one important respect from those facing other disabled students. 
People who use wheelchairs must have institutional commitment to get rid of 
stairs. No amount of rehabilitation will achieve that goal. People with many 
other disabilities face circumstances similar to those of people using 
wheelchairs. Blindness is the only disability I know for which the real or 
perceived barriers are wholly in the minds of blind people ourselves and the 
minds of the educators with whom we deal. And we are the only disability group 
for whom proper rehabilitation is a sufficient answer.
     But because we are disabled, we get swept into the DSS movement. 
Educational institutions have been told to handle the disabled appropriately, 
and in many cases the handling must be institutional. We're the only ones that 
don't fit the model. But this fact is overlooked by institutions and ignored by 
all too many blind students glad for an extra hand, a ready-made way to get 
things done that seems easier than doing it oneself. The thing such students 
forget is that, when someone puts a floor beneath you, preventing you at all 
costs from failure, that same person prevents you from succeeding. In order to 
have the possibility of success, we must also have the possibility of failure. 
All too many of us see the ADA as our promise from Congress that someone else 
will do the hard stuff, as our guarantee against failure. It all too often is. 
At the same time it guarantees against success.
     Here is the last little bit of poison from the ADA: the concept that all 
disabled people are alike, can be handled alike, can be fit into the same box 
and helped through college. While other disabled people need specific, tangible 
institutional help, that help is guaranteed to withhold the very skills and the 
very possibility of failure from blind people that we most need.
     3. Which leads me to the final point. When I talk to students today, I 
often feel a disconnection. Blind students today listen politely, murmur about 
the importance of independence, and change the topic as soon as possible. It's 
clear that many blind students privately think I don't know what's happening on 
today's campuses, don't understand today's world as seen by them. They're going 
to classes, doing fine, using DSS offices for a wide variety of services, and 
feel great about the subject. Why disturb a good thing? They're okay.
     I just keep trying, as I am doing here, to explain that I do very much 
understand what is going on on today's campuses. It's what's always gone on 
everywhere a blind person shows up. The ADA has only made it more systematic and 
changed its name from custodialism to what is perceived as a right. Right under 
the law or not, custodialism is still custodialism, and failure to learn coping 
skills is still failure to learn coping skills.
I've said it before, and I'll say it again here: Whenever a blind person is 
tempted to say the words "Americans with Disabilities Act," that blind person 
should pause, take a deep breath, do a little mind-emptying exercise, and then 
focus on the real question which is "How am I myself--this very person and no 
one else--going to get this job done?" Any temptation to duck, wangle, or permit 
others to do our coping for us should be firmly resisted.
     This is good Federation practice, teaching others that we can be successful 
in the little as well as the great things. But, most important of all, it is 
just plain selfish in the sense that all of us need to teach ourselves that we 
can do things. This teaching of ourselves translates into self-confidence, and 
that self-confidence translates into first-class citizenship and into jobs.
     When a DSS office does it for us, it translates into failure to learn 
coping skills. So say it nicely, say it with kindness, say it with firmness, but 
say it! "I'll do it myself." And make it stick. Make it stick with the DSS 
office, and make it stick with yourself. When you do, we're all winners. We win 
when we discover self-reliance, when we build our own dignity, when we learn to 
handle tasks for ourselves without even thinking much about it. In other words, 
we win when we find out who we are and reject the trappings of custodialism, 
however they are dressed up and disguised. In a very real, very practical sense 
that is exactly what Dr. Jernigan meant when he said: "We know who we are, and 
we will never go back."


[PHOTO/CAPTION 6: Jim Omvig]
     Informed Choice and the Empowerment Circle
     by James H. Omvig

     From the Editor: Through the years Jim Omvig has written many articles for 
the Braille Monitor grounded in his years of experience in rehabilitation. They 
express common-sense notions about what works and what doesn't in rehabilitating 
blind people. He was born and raised in Iowa, where he became one of Dr. 
Jernigan's early students at the Adult Orientation and Training Center of the 
Iowa Commission for the Blind. He became an attorney and has done important work 
to help blind and disabled people across the country. Among other things he has 
directed adult training centers serving blind people in Iowa and Alaska. Today 
he is retired and lives in Arizona, where he is a leader of the NFB of Arizona. 
In the following article Jim explains what is and is not meant by the 
rehabilitation term "informed choice." This is what he says:

     To choose or not to choose or, more accurately, what to choose? That is the 
question--the question for the new vocational rehabilitation (VR) customer. In 
recent years far too many blind customers of the VR system have been 
shortchanged because they have chosen unwisely; they have not known how or what 
to choose. It can be said that they have made uninformed choices. As a result, 
without ever even knowing it, they have sold themselves short.
     Vocational rehabilitation for people with disabilities became a national 
effort in America in 1920, but this first program did not include the blind at 
all. Apparently people assumed the blind had no rehabilitation potential and 
thus could not become employable. The original law, the Smith-Fess Act, 
established the National Civilian Vocational Rehabilitation Act (P.L. 66-236).
     By 1943, as blinded veterans were coming home from the Second World War, 
the blind were finally included in VR programs and presumed to have at least 
some kind of employment potential. The 1943 law which brought the blind into VR 
programs was the Barden-LaFollette Act (P.L. 78-113). In the eighty years since 
VR was inaugurated in the United States, and in the fifty-seven years since the 
blind were included in VR programs, many new concepts have come along, and 
doubtless many have gone. Also it goes without saying that at times nothing 
short of mass confusion has been the order of the day.
     However, no concept in the VR process has ever been more confused, 
misunderstood, twisted, and misused than that of informed choice. Since the 
concept has been so misconstrued and misapplied, large numbers of blind VR 
customers actually have been hurt rather than helped by what was intended to be 
a positive plan of grand design.
     The concept of informed choice was first introduced to the United States 
Congress and to those involved in the field of work with the blind by the 
National Federation of the Blind in 1990. At that time a few orientation and 
adjustment centers around the country were consistently providing high quality, 
proper training--they knew the secret of full empowerment for the blind and 
taught it regularly. The fact was, however, that most training centers didn't 
have a clue about what proper training really is, let alone provide it.
     The NFB thought that a blind customer--no matter where he or she happened 
to live--should have the right to choose to go at VR expense to an orientation 
and adjustment center which offered proper training and full empowerment, so the 
proposal went to Congress. No action was taken in 1990, but the seed was 
planted. The blind of the NFB worked hard, and by the time Congress passed the 
1992 VR Amendments, the first choice provision was put into the Act (The 
Vocational Rehabilitation Act of 1973, as Amended). In the 1998 Rehabilitation 
Act amendments the informed choice provision was strengthened and stated much 
more strongly.
     The concept caught on, was used, and became confused. Then it began to be 
misused. Now the concept of consumer choice is as clear as mud. What then is 
informed choice? It simply means that the customer is to be treated with dignity 
and respect--as an equal partner--with the service provider. Unlike the old days 
when the VR counselor made decisions and then told the passive customer what to 
do, the customer now has the right to participate fully in the planning and 
decision-making.
     In addition to selecting the employment objective and the broad range of 
needed services, the customer also generally has the right to choose the 
training program--pre-vocational or vocational--in which he or she would like to 
participate. The customer does not, however, have the right to tell a program 
how it should run its business. In other words, the customer cannot compel a VR 
vendor to change the nature of its services. If the customer does not like some 
aspect of a given training program, he or she should choose a program which 
offers what is wanted.
     To clarify the point, let's look at a couple of simple analogies. I decided 
to become an attorney, so I chose to go to law school and to attend Loyola 
University of Chicago. The university, of course, chose what it would teach me 
and how it would do it. I could have chosen to go to some other law school, but 
each in turn would have chosen what and how to teach me and how I would be 
expected to dress, behave, and participate and what I would study.
     Or, to illustrate absurdity by being absurd, try this one on for size: How 
would you react if your youngster were to come home from school some day and 
say, "Hey, Dad, we have this new thing in school. It's called `Choice.' I get to 
decide whether or not to take English or Spelling or History or Math or Science. 
It's really cool. Hey, Dad, I choose recess!"
     Obviously there are certain presumptions in this world. Whether we are 
going to law school or grade school or high school or night school or an 
adjustment center for the blind, it is presumed that those who run the schools 
and training centers know more about what is needed and how to achieve the 
objective than those who attend the programs. If they don't, then the roles 
should be reversed, and the administrators had better become the students.
     "So," you ask, "what in the world does all of this nonsense have to do with 
blind VR customers and informed choice?" Everything! In the confusion and 
frustration which now exist, customers attending training centers for the blind 
incorrectly believe that they have the right not only to make the choice to 
attend a particular program but also to make choices as to whether or not they 
will take all core classes, stay all day, use and carry white canes, take and 
use Braille, use sleepshades during training, etc. Worse still, most 
rehabilitation counselors, rehabilitation teachers, and training-center 
personnel have also bought into the erroneous notion that this is what the NFB 
proposed and Congress meant when it offered VR customers a choice. This, of 
course, is absurd.
     There is an even more dubious aspect to this entire mess. The customers 
have obviously learned this mistaken view about choice from someone since they 
would have had no reason to have the slightest bit of knowledge about the 
subject. No doubt they never heard of the phrase, "informed choice," until they 
began working with their VR agencies. I believe that the customers have learned 
and are learning this erroneous view from the professionals in the field--the 
very rehab counselors, rehab teachers, and training-center personnel whose sole 
reason for being should be to help blind people adjust properly to their 
blindness.
     Chaos has been the result. But, even more than that, when service and 
training personnel not only gave up their right but also failed in their 
responsibility to set the curriculum needed to provide proper training--to 
empower their customers--those customers have become the losers. They have been 
short-changed by the very programs which were created to provide meaningful 
help. Since such customers have had little or no adequate guidance, far too many 
have chosen unwisely and thus have failed to get the training they really 
needed.
     To spell it out bluntly, the customer who is new to the blindness system 
has no foundation upon which to make an informed choice about anything dealing 
with proper training or adjustment to blindness. He or she has nothing by which 
to measure, no knowledge upon which to exercise judgment, no perspective. A 
person who has never been exposed to the blindness system wouldn't even 
understand the terminology.
     Just consider: The new student or customer doesn't know about the wide 
range of possibilities which exist for the blind who have had meaningful 
training. That customer doesn't know a properly trained blind person can live a 
normal, happy, productive life. He or she must be taught and often persuaded by 
someone who does know. The new customer doesn't know, for example, why it is 
critically important in the adjustment-to-blindness process to learn to use the 
word "blind," rather than actively to continue to engage in denial. He or she 
must be persuaded by someone who truly knows and understands the importance of 
the customer's acceptance of and adjustment to blindness.
     Similarly, the newly blinded adult doesn't know that prevocational training 
in a residential orientation and adjustment center is always preferable (if it 
is available) to training in a daytime-only program. This new customer does not 
know why it is important to use the long white cane rather than a short one; why 
sleepshades are necessary for the partially blind person during training; or why 
Braille and other alternative techniques are so important. Someone who really 
knows and cares must guide the blind person to recognize the truth of these and 
a myriad of other facts.
     All of the foregoing is simply the way that it is in the real world, and no 
amount of hoping or wishing that it isn't so can change it. To complicate the 
issue even further, all of this persuasion and teaching must usually be 
accomplished in spite of the fear and stubborn reluctance of the blind customer 
involved. For the simple truth is that, because of the prevailing negative 
attitudes about blindness, the typical new adult VR customer believes that he or 
she can really do nothing of significance as a blind person and that, therefore, 
the offered state services are totally useless and irrelevant if not impossible 
to achieve. He or she will have been taught since infancy that blindness means 
inferiority, and this attitude will usually not change until the quality service 
provider intervenes and helps to change it.
     Dr. Fredric K. Schroeder, Commissioner of the federal Rehabilitation 
Services Administration, told a marvelous story about choice at a training 
seminar for Arizona rehabilitation professionals. "When I went to work in 
Washington," he said, "I was asked by a personnel official if I would like to 
choose a federal health insurance plan. I said that I would like that. The 
personnel specialist and I went into a room and began picking up packets of 
information about my various options."
     Commissioner Schroeder continued, "We took a large stack of books and 
pamphlets back to my office, and I began to sort them. Then I said, `This is 
ridiculous. I'm not going to read all of this stuff!'
     "I went to a colleague--an employee who had worked for RSA for several 
years--and asked him if he had federal health insurance. He said that he did, 
and he told me which policy he had. I asked him if he liked it, and he said, `I 
do like it,' so I said, 'Me too,' and I signed up for what he had.
     "I then asked my secretary to take a copy of each piece of paper having to 
do with all of the federal health plans and to weigh the whole stack. She did. 
It weighed thirteen pounds. This was great. I had thirteen pounds of choice 
about my health-care plan. Of course, until I asked for information from a 
trusted colleague, I had no rational basis whatsoever for making a sound 
decision."
     This story should make the point. As with RSA Commissioner Schroeder, the 
customer who is new to the blindness system has no rational basis whatever for 
choosing the right adjustment program to attend. The employees of the quality 
service provider--those with the empowerment motive--must teach and lead and 
demonstrate and persuade in order to help elevate the new VR customer's 
expectations and to sell him or her on the proper training which can reasonably 
be expected to result in empowerment.
     Two questions arise on the topic of how best honestly to equip the customer 
to make an informed choice--the kind of choice which will lead to true 
empowerment for the blind. First, what is the real role in the real world of the 
professional as it relates to informed choice and the correct adjustment center 
to attend? Should that professional remain neutral and, like a robot, simply 
hand the customer thirteen pounds of paper, or should the professional learn 
what it takes to empower a blind person and then do his or her very best to 
influence positively the choice the customer makes?
     At the Arizona rehabilitation seminar referred to above, RSA Commissioner 
Schroeder answered this question directly and unequivocally. "A rehabilitation 
professional," he said, "absolutely has an appropriate role to play in the 
choice process by giving the very best information he or she can possibly 
provide. . . . The professional ought not to remain silent on the issue of the 
type of services which will empower the customer. . . . The professional ought 
truly to help the individual to make an informed choice. . . . Informed choice 
does not mean that a professional must simply sit passively when a customer 
comes in and says, `This is what I want,' and think, `That's a terrible idea, 
but under choice I'm not allowed to say anything. . . .' That is nonsense. That 
is not at all what choice is about. That type of behavior will simply get you 
about thirteen pounds of meaningless paper."
     The second question has to do with the role, if any, which the organized 
blind movement should rightfully play in the process of choice. Should the NFB 
have any role? Yes. In addition to doing his or her very best to direct the new 
customer toward training which will lead to empowerment, the blindness 
professional who understands and is truly committed to full empowerment will 
also routinely refer that new customer to the local chapter of the National 
Federation of the Blind. The new customer needs successful blind role models, 
and he or she also needs a support group. Further, that new customer needs the 
inspiration and encouragement which flow naturally from being a part of the 
collective community of successful blind people.
     Let me be very clear about the point I am making here. Some VR agencies 
bring in a speaker every month or two to talk to new customers for a half hour 
or so about his or her organization of the blind. This is not what I am talking 
about.
     The entire point of this article is that we have come to the place in 
history where the seventy-percent unemployment rate among the blind is 
absolutely unacceptable. If we are interested in successful outcomes, we must 
deal with the world as it is, not with fiction. We must recognize and accept the 
reality that the mere fact that a person has become blind did not bring with it 
great insight into blindness. Therefore choice in a vacuum is pointless. The 
very best way for that new customer to have a real chance to exercise choice 
meaningfully is to associate with people who have themselves been through the 
process and who can therefore give perspective and meaningful opinions, informed 
opinions.
     The views of these veteran VR customers will be based upon the experiences-
-both the good and the bad--which they and their friends have had. The new 
customer can then judge for him- or herself whether those experiences are 
relevant--whether those experiences relate or at least partially relate to the 
goals and ambitions he or she has.
     A friend here in Tucson tells a great story on this point. He became blind 
overnight in Illinois, and he needed help since he knew nothing about blindness. 
He quickly applied for VR services, and within two days a VR counselor (a blind 
person) came to my friend's home to see him.
     Among other things the counselor said, "It is critical that you meet and 
associate yourself with other blind people. Here is information about both the 
American Council of the Blind and the National Federation of the Blind. Check 
them out, and join something so you can learn from other blind people."
     My friend ultimately visited and then joined the NFB. He says that, while 
VR gave him some home teaching and other services, it was through the NFB that 
his road to empowerment began in earnest.
     To close the loop on what I'll call the empowerment circle, the next step 
is for that new customer to become actively involved in the NFB. His or her 
personal empowerment will truly be completed by getting involved and helping to 
make life better for all blind people. Soon this new individual will be the 
veteran inspiring and encouraging and giving hope to yet another, newer member. 
This new role for the customer will, in and of itself, be empowering, since one 
can gain much by giving back. The unbiased rehabilitation professional with no 
axes to grind will encourage such activity.
     The Director of the Louisiana Center for the Blind, Joanne Wilson, reports 
dramatic VR outcomes when the empowerment loop has been closed through active 
participation in the NFB. An informal study (a formal one will be conducted 
later) reveals that 97 percent of her students are successful when they become 
actively involved in the NFB after completing training.
     The secret of how best to empower the blind has long been known. The truth 
about blindness is known, the techniques for instilling that truth in the new 
customer are known, and the question of how to deal appropriately with the 
negative public attitudes about blindness is known. All of this has been tried, 
tested, and proven over and over again. What remains is for large numbers of 
professionals in the field of work with the blind who operate from the 
empowerment motive to learn about and become committed to full empowerment for 
their blind customers. Only then will they be able to pass on accurate 
information so that rank-and-file customers can make truly informed choices 
about their lives.
     Those who have mistakenly believed that the concept of informed choice 
gives the customer the right to pick and choose only certain parts of a 
particular program obviously focus only upon the word "choice." As we have seen 
in this article, however, the word, "informed," is of at least equal 
significance. A choice without information and perspective--an uninformed 
choice--is utterly meaningless. Even worse, it may be devastating to the success 
and well-being of the customer.
*****************************************************************


     Pooled Income Gifts

     In this plan money donated to the National Federation of the Blind by a 
number of individuals is invested by the NFB. Each donor and the NFB sign an 
agreement that income from the funds will be paid to the donor quarterly or 
annually. Each donor receives a tax deduction for the gift; the NFB receives a 
useful donation; and the donor receives income of a specified amount for the 
rest of his or her life. For more information about the NFB pooled income fund, 
contact the National Federation of the Blind, Special Gifts, 1800 Johnson 
Street, Baltimore, Maryland 21230-4998, phone (410) 659-9314, fax (410) 685-
5653.
*****************************************************************





[PHOTO/CAPTION 7: Ed Cohen stands with a Kenyan woman behind the table 
displaying the equipment he brought to Kenya with him.]
     A Visit to Kenya, East Africa
     by Ed Cohen

     From the Editor: Ed Cohen is a member of the Indianapolis Chapter of the 
NFB of Indiana. The following story of his trip to Kenya and his activities on 
behalf of blind people there appeared in the Winter, 2000, issue of the Hoosier 
Federationist, the publication of the NFB of Indiana. Here it is:

     Little did I realize when our daughter Angela announced her desire to be a 
Peace Corps volunteer in sub-Saharan Africa how much impact it would have on me 
and, indeed, on Africa. Less than a month after she graduated from the 
University of Kentucky with a degree in Forestry, she left for her two-year 
assignment in Kenya, East Africa.
     During her first year there my wife Karen and I decided to visit her. After 
all, how often do you have a chance to visit one of your children and go to 
Africa at the same time?
     Angela lives in a little wooden house outside Bomet, a small town in 
western Kenya not far from the Masaii Mara National Game Preserve. She lives 
much like her neighbors, who have no electricity, telephone, or running water. 
Her bathroom is a mere twenty steps from her side door. Yes, it is in a lovely 
location, but our only communication with her is by the post--what we call the 
mail. It takes about two weeks for a letter to arrive. E-mail and phone calls 
are a welcome treat but a rare luxury. 
     As we discussed our possible plans, I asked Angela if she ever saw blind 
people in her area. She said that she had not but would do some investigating. 
While asking around, she learned that the Kenyan Union of the Blind had a 
chapter in her area. When she spoke to them, they said that they would be 
pleased to meet a blind person from America. This had the possibility of turning 
into a great opportunity.
     I contacted our state president, Ron Brown, and discussed the idea of 
taking canes and Braille materials with me on the trip. We also agreed that we 
should make sure that we left behind the idea of making canes using local 
materials. He was all for it, so we began to put ideas together. 
     At our next monthly meeting members of the Indianapolis chapter 
enthusiastically supported the idea and offered to pitch in with various 
donations of canes, slates and styluses, and Braille-teaching books. The state 
affiliate donated a dozen NFB folding canes and twenty extra tips. Rounding out 
the package were spare bungee cord, Kernel books, the book on Dr. Jernigan's 
life, and a muffin tin with six tennis balls. The last item was a great Braille 
teaching aid I had seen at a NOPBC [National Organization of Parents of Blind 
Children] meeting at our last state convention.
     We knew that the Kenyans would need training in the use of their new canes. 
Though I use a long white cane, I am not an O&M [orientation and mobility] 
instructor. However, our Indianapolis chapter is fortunate to have Ron Brown and 
Mike Neese as members. They are recent graduates of the Louisiana Tech master's 
degree program in Orientation and Mobility in cooperation with the Louisiana 
Center for the Blind. With their help I felt prepared to impart the basics the 
Kenyans would need to know to get them started.
     The day before Halloween we bid farewell to the USA and began our 
adventure. After nine hours of flying, we landed in Amsterdam. Here we spent two 
wonderful days exploring the city on foot and by canal boat. The long stopover 
helped us adjust to the many time zone changes and gave us a splendid peek at a 
European city, our first taste, but hopefully not our last. 
     After another eight-hour flight we arrived in Nairobi, Kenya. At last we 
were with Angela, whom we had not seen in one-and-a-half years. The first week 
we went on a safari, which is Swahili for "trip." With the skillful aid of a 
Kenyan driver/guide we had the pleasure of traveling to four different game 
parks. Throughout our safari we were amazed and delighted with Kenya and its 
wildlife. Being close to and seeing such creatures as elephants, lions, and 
buffalo in their natural setting was a thrill of a lifetime.
     At the end of the safari we moved into the second week and phase of our 
trip. We rented a small jeep, and Angela drove us to her home. Living in 
America, we don't realize how different our life is from that of the rest of the 
world. Good roads, directional signs, and reasonable drivers are not something 
Kenya is over-burdened with. We also learned it is possible to be comfortable 
without all the modern conveniences that we all take for granted. For example, 
we learned how little water you actually need to brush your teeth or even to 
wash your body when you have to boil all the water first.
     The morning came when we were to meet with the local blind group. Even 
though I had a plan and am comfortable speaking in front of groups and Angela 
had prepared us for various possibilities, I did have some butterflies.
     We drove into Bomet and down the dirt road that led to collections of one-
story, concrete-block municipal buildings. We pulled up to one where a number of 
people were milling around. We three carried our packs, bags, and boxes into the 
long room and began to organize and spread everything out.
     Soon we met Ruth, who provides various services to the handicapped in this 
area. We learned that, for the purpose of receiving services, the blind were 
combined with all others with any sort of disability.
     We were also introduced to Wilson Kipkururi. Wilson is the chairman of the 
Bomet Chapter of the Kenyan Union of the Blind. We learned that his area 
includes a number of other towns and local chapters. He informed us that 
officers of several of those chapters were present and would later get a chance 
to speak.
     As the time to begin approached, the horseshoe-shaped table was filled with 
over a dozen men and women. The men were all in suits or sport coats while the 
women were in brightly colored dresses. The one obviously missing item was their 
long white canes. At last the program began.
     This part of Kenya is populated by members of the Kipsigi tribe. They of 
course speak Kipsigi, which I do not. Therefore, a translator was an integral 
part of the program for the next three hours. After Karen, Angela, and I were 
introduced, I was given the floor. I began by explaining that I brought 
greetings from the President of the National Federation of the Blind of Indiana. 
Indiana, I mentioned, was a state near the center of the United States. I then 
read a letter I had brought from our state president. It was well received, 
which I took as a good omen for the rest of the program.
     After this the pace picked up a bit. About nine of the twelve people 
present were blind--about half totally. The others were here on behalf of a 
blind person. They had heard that canes were going to be distributed at the 
program and seemed excited at the prospect. We had purchased canes in three 
different lengths, so we had to match them as best we could with those who were 
to receive them. With much explanation and assistance, we passed out the canes. 
Try to imagine a dozen blind people standing in a row and opening their folding 
canes for the very first time. The look of joy on their faces was a wonderful 
sight, not to mention the gasps and laughter as the canes came tumbling open on 
their own.
     The second part of the program was devoted to presenting the basics of 
using their long white canes. With help from all of those present who were not 
receiving a cane, and much one-on-one assistance, we managed a couple of turns 
around the room. The group of onlookers staring in from the open front door let 
me know that a dozen blind people moving in a circle, using their newly acquired 
long-white-cane skills, was a rare sight in these parts. Yet the broad grins on 
some of the faces of those using their canes told me it was an important and 
special moment.
     Once everyone returned to their seats, we moved on to the third and final 
portion of my part of the program--the making of canes. During our planning we 
had recognized that I could not bring enough canes or even tips to meet their 
needs. The Kenyans should and would have to make more canes using local 
materials. A cane designed and built by Kenyans specifically for their unique 
conditions would be a key to their continuing to make progress.
All this is not to say that no one in attendance that day already had a cane. A 
couple of locally made canes were present. One was a stick, curved at the top 
into a "U" that came up to the short man's belt. They found my term for it, the 
"navel-stick" very funny once the translator got finished with it. I can't help 
wondering what he actually called it. The other cane was carried by a tall man. 
It came up to his ear and was as big around as my wrist. I commented that it was 
more a weapon than a cane. After the translation of my comment it seemed, based 
upon the nods and laughter, that many agreed with my assessment.
     I urged people to examine the metal tips and screws that I had brought as 
repair parts or as a starting point. If makers used locally available bamboo and 
other woody materials, canes that were light, strong, inexpensive, and 
attractive could be fashioned to the exact needs of the user. Pointing out the 
possibility that blind people elsewhere in Kenya might want canes that they 
could produce and sell caused a ripple of interest that I hope may blossom.
     The program closed with Wilson's speaking and asking many people present to 
speak as well. Speaker after speaker expressed deep gratitude for our donation 
of resources and time. I learned that there are approximately 200,000 blind 
Kenyans. Rehabilitation and training services are few and far between. I also 
learned that our dozen canes alone represented a significant monetary donation 
when calculated in Kenyan shillings, the local currency.
     The most heartening comments were made by Wilson. All Federationists would 
be pleased to hear that in this small town in western Kenya the blind believe 
that with proper training and opportunity they can lead self-reliant, productive 
lives.
     I walked out of that building with the profound feeling that many lives had 
been touched that day. Far more than the transfer of some canes and training had 
taken place. The outpouring of gratitude and well wishes to the NFB could be 
felt in the air. We had touched each other through our common desire for the 
advancement of opportunities for the blind.
     For ten more days we continued to soak in the sights, sounds, and smells of 
Kenya. Yet throughout that time my mind kept turning back to the men and women I 
had met in that small concrete-block building that day. Our visit with Angela 
continued for another week and a half; the last week was spent on the coast near 
Mombasa. It gave us a chance to relax and think.
     I am now back home in Indianapolis, and the demands of work and family 
again arise to occupy my mind and time. Yet I think about and wonder what is 
happening to the blind Kenyans I met. What sort of life will they have? Was our 
meeting worth the effort? Would our donations result in any positive changes in 
their lives? 
     During Angela's remaining time in Kenya she will monitor the group and 
report back on what impact we had. Even after she leaves, the address on the 
letter from Ron that we left will be a link to us. I sincerely hope that from 
this small event greater things can occur. Only time will tell. I feel a link 
was established between our two worlds. They now know that there are people on 
the other side of the planet who care for them and wish them success. 
     On those long white canes we placed small stickers stating that they came 
from the NFB of Indiana. We can all share in the knowledge that a small part of 
the NFB was planted in the small Kenyan town of Bomet that day.


[PHOTO/CAPTION 8: Steve Benson]
     First Down and the Field!
     by Stephen O. Benson

     From the Editor: Steve Benson led a varied and active childhood. In the 
following story he recollects the fun he had playing football with both 
neighborhood friends and fellow students. In the first group he was the only 
blind kid; in the second the whole group of players were blind. The teams worked 
out reasonable and fair rules, and everyone had a good time. Today Steve does 
public relations and public education for the National Library Service program 
in Illinois. He is also President of the NFB of Illinois and a member of the 
National Federation of the Blind Board of Directors. This is what he says:

     Football was a game I learned to play upon my arrival  at the blind school, 
Alexander Graham Bell School in Chicago. All the kids who played were blind or 
legally blind, with one notable exception. Our version of the game applied 
National Football League rules to touch football. Blocking was allowed in this 
version, which, I learned later, was neither accepted nor acceptable practice in 
the touch football game played in my neighborhood primarily with sighted kids. 
At Bell School, when the ball was put into play, the ball carrier had to call--
make some audible noise. Failure to call resulted in a penalty. In the 
neighborhood game that rule was inserted only after I began to play regularly. 
     The playing field at school was a concrete sidewalk laid out in six foot 
squares. At one end of the playing area was a short flight of stairs leading 
into the school. The other end of the field was marked by the end of the school 
auditorium, which stood on one side of the field.
     The playing field at home varied. Sometimes it was an alley with telephone 
poles as goal line markers. Sometimes the playing surface was the street with a 
sewer cover or parked car or lamp post designated as the goal line marker. 
Occasionally we actually played on a park field or in a DePaul University 
parking lot--the latter, of course, when university classes were not in session.
     Whatever field we played on, we seldom had line markers, so mostly there 
were no first downs. The offensive team had to cover the length of the field in 
four downs. Occasionally a team would punt on fourth down, but more often than 
not fourth down was a straight play or a fake punt. The neighborhood games 
tended to be more wide open. We usually played with three to five men on a side.
     Since the field of play at Bell School was smaller, punts and kick-offs 
were thrown, and we played with a large, round inflated rubber ball. The shape 
of the ball allowed better control, and the bounce was more true. We used a 
standard football in the neighborhood game because the fields were larger and 
kicking was allowed. I never mastered the drop kick. I held the ball by one end, 
pointed down low in front of me, and kicked away. I guess I was about as good 
and about as consistent as most of my peers, which wasn't very good or 
consistent.
     Whether at school or in the neighborhood, I played every position but 
receiver. I couldn't see the ball to catch it, not even the big rubber ball we 
used at school. More often than not I played quarterback in the neighborhood. 
Receivers ran down field and called a code word when they were open to receive a 
pass. I should point out that we used stop-and-go patterns, slant plays, down-
and-out patterns, and a variety of other plays. Each pattern had its own code 
words: colors, animals, street names, and so on. 
     The field at school was small, and we were all very familiar with all of 
its quirks and characteristics. The neighborhood fields presented other 
challenges. If I had the opportunity, I would walk the field before starting 
play. If there were any unusual obstacles on the playing area, my friends would 
tell me about them: holes, puddles, mounds, trenches, cars or other vehicles, 
etc. Being familiar with the topography of the field was useful when I was 
required to execute a running play or when I played defense and had to chase an 
opponent. 
     Recently I had dinner with two of my childhood friends, Nick and Tom. Nick 
remembered one particular play as we reminisced about our childhood games. As 
quarterback I dropped back to pass. Nick was open and called for the ball, 
straight down the field. I threw; he looked over his right shoulder; the ball 
went over his left shoulder, bounced into the street, and was run over by a 
truck; end of game. It may have been the longest pass I ever threw, and it was 
punctuated by a loud pop.
     Now for the notable exception to the practice of all blind kids playing 
football at Bell School. Teachers decided at some point that it would be a good 
idea to have an eighth-grade boy participate in our recess and lunchtime games. 
So an eighth grade boy, Jim, joined our games. Now our football games were 
physical, and the kids often became pretty aggressive. After the first week of 
football season Jim bailed out; he said we were too rough. After he withdrew 
from the activity, no other sighted student was assigned. I guess the faculty 
and administration concluded that we didn't need a baby sitter, or nobody was 
willing to take on the challenge of participating in our fun.
     The modifications to football were our own. The techniques that did not 
work were abandoned, and we tried new ones. If some technique seemed to give 
unfair advantage to one team or another or to kids with a little vision, it too 
was rejected. Nobody sustained serious injury, but bumps and bruises were 
commonplace. Making our own rules for the competition was as important to us 
blind kids as doing so is to sighted kids. We understood the value of it all, 
and we had a lot of fun playing, even into our twenties and early thirties in 
some cases. Recalling the plays and the funny circumstances surrounding their 
execution is probably as much fun now as playing was thirty or more years ago.


[PHOTO/CAPTION 9: Gail Bryant]
     Another Federationist at Work:
     Gail Bryant Honored

     From the Editor: Every time a blind person ventures out into the world, he 
or she teaches others something about blindness. Sometimes we wish those lessons 
had not been taught, and sometimes the lessons are wonderful demonstrations of 
ability, good sense, and dedication. The following article came from Ed Bryant, 
the President of the Diabetes Action Network and Editor of the Voice of the 
Diabetic. In this case he is also the proud husband of a dedicated Federationist 
who was recently honored. The NFB is mentioned only once, but our philosophy and 
view of the world shine in every sentence. The piece was written by Qingchun Guo 
and Holly Surbaugh and appeared in the March 2, 2000, issue of the Columbia 
Missourian.

     Teaching the Blind

     Gail Bryant teaches people to read and write. Her students range from 
grade-schoolers to senior citizens. They receive one-on-one instruction in 
school or in their homes.
     They are also blind or visually impaired. So is Bryant.
     Bryant recently received the Missouri Small Business Development Center's 
1999 Excellence in Business Award for her small enterprise, Columbia Braille 
Teaching Services. Her first reaction when she heard the news was utter 
astonishment.
     "I was shocked, flabbergasted, because I was just out there doing my job," 
Bryant said, "I don't think of myself as extraordinary. I don't think of my job 
as extraordinary, and I don't treat my students as extra-special or 
extraordinary."
     Others, however, find her accomplishments impressive.
     "She inspires everyone she meets, both those who assist her and those she 
assists," said Lil Ferrell, a former SBDC counselor/instructor who helped Bryant 
start her business.
     Blind from birth, Bryant's disability has worked to her advantage in 
connecting with her students. She not only teaches blind and visually impaired 
people Braille but also trains them in computer software and home management 
skills. Hers is the only such business in the state to serve both children and 
adults.
     Bryant started when the Rehabilitation Services for the Blind, a 
subdivision of the Jefferson City Department of Social Services, sought 
individual contractors to teach the blind.
     "I really didn't think it would grow into a full-fledged business," Bryant 
said. "As things developed, it sort of mushroomed."
     With Ferrell's help Bryant jumped through the typical hoops for starting a 
new business. She came up with a business plan and scouted for potential clients 
at local schools. She also hired a driver and completed training in using and 
teaching Window-Eyes, computer software designed for the visually impaired.
     "Really, she was just like another client starting a business," Ferrell 
said. Funds from Rehabilitation Services for the Blind helped supply equipment 
and start-up costs.
     "Ms. Bryant is an excellent example of a professional business person and a 
successful instructor," said Jim Brinkman, a counselor at Rehabilitation 
Services for the Blind.
     Bryant got her first client in mid-1997. Since those first lessons Bryant 
has taught visually impaired adults and children to deal with more than one kind 
of blindness. She often finds herself educating school teachers, staff, and 
families in the right way to work with blind people. She said the most difficult 
part of her job is changing the attitudes that the blind cannot have meaningful 
lives and that they require special treatment.
     "A lot of my job is teaching confidence," Bryant said. "I have to come in 
and work with them, and I have to do it so that the child, the parent, and the 
school can all maintain a certain level of dignity and respect."
     Bryant still struggles for that same respect herself as a fledgling 
entrepreneur. "I'm not taken seriously," Bryant said. "In some circles I'm just 
this nice lady who comes to teach little Johnny Braille."
     Bryant hopes this award will add to her credibility, but she will not rest 
on its strength alone. She has also just commissioned a new marketing brochure, 
and she is considering enrolling in college classes to get Department of 
Elementary and Secondary Education certification in her field.
     The former housewife already has a master's of education in rehabilitation 
counseling. Her advocacy work with the National Federation of the Blind and 
volunteer service, such as working with battered women at The Shelter, has given 
her a wealth of experience. And her background in counseling has given her 
skills she now uses to get her message across to anyone who would doubt a blind 
person's capability.
     "Anybody who has a child, regardless of their handicap or disability, 
should not be afraid if they want their child to go to a public school," Bryant 
said. "It should never be viewed as a statement of hopelessness or helplessness. 
By the same token, if there is someone who is newly blind as an adult, they 
shouldn't be afraid to ask for help."


[PHOTO/CAPTION 10: Bruce Gardner]
     The White Cane
     by Guy M. Masters

     From the Editor: What impact do we have on other people? Often we never 
know. One of the things blind people who travel independently learn to live with 
is the fact that people watch us. We can be minding our own business, doing what 
needs to be done, but just the fact that we are doing that can have effects we 
never know about.
     When Bruce Gardner was a student, he met a man at a party one night, and 
the experience made a difference in the way that man viewed both blind people 
and sighted. Guy Masters wrote the following article about the experience and 
its impact more than twenty years ago. As far as we can tell, it was not 
published at the time, but Bruce Gardner came across a copy of it a few months 
ago and passed it along. Here it is:

     It was a cold January day, and the snow was falling lightly. From the large 
window on the fourth floor of the library I looked out across a snow-covered 
campus. Students bundled up in ski jackets and heavy winter coats hurried 
carefully on the icy sidewalks to classes and study areas. A chill ran through 
me and I shivered suddenly as the cold penetrated through the window. The crowd 
of students thinned as the bell rang for classes to begin. As I scanned the 
scene, I was entranced by the peaceful and silent spell cast by winter--it felt 
good to take a break from my studies.
     Suddenly my attention was drawn to a lone figure hesitantly making his way 
down one of the sidewalks. He was noticeably slower than the other students 
bustling by him. He was dressed warmly--his brown corduroy jacket was buttoned 
full-length, and a knitted scarf hung loosely about his neck. His blue backpack, 
bulging from the books it contained, was placed squarely on his back, leaving 
his gloved hands free. In his right hand he firmly held a white cane, which he 
extended directly in front of him. As he walked forward he moved the cane in a 
pattern from side to side, tapping it gently and searchingly. But then, for some 
reason, he stopped. The white probe tapped forward in several directions. 
Obviously something was wrong. The snow and ice were making it impossible for 
the young man to determine by his usual method where the sidewalk was.
     My heart went out to him as he intensely searched for some familiar sound--
a clue to the right way. Several students passed him on either side, but none 
seemed aware of the dilemma he faced. He moved forward slowly, now approaching 
the middle of the intersecting point of two large pathways. I was relieved, for 
he appeared to be regaining his bearings.
     Now more confident, my friend began to walk forward again, but because of 
the undiscernible path, he had drifted off course by just a few steps. He was 
heading directly off the pathway. My heart jumped--"Watch out for that pole!" I 
almost yelled out in the silence of the library. I wanted to bang on the window, 
but he would not have heard me--I was too far away. I pounded my fist on the 
window sill. "Somebody down there grab him! Can't you see he needs help?" I 
cried out within myself. He was headed straight for the lamp post.
     Then the cane hit the post, and immediately he halted. He moved the cane to 
the other side and tapped the lamp post there. He paused and thought briefly. 
"The cane, of course!" I thought, and let out a sigh of relief. As if he knew 
exactly where he was, he backed up, took three steps to the left, and turned 
ninety degrees. He was standing directly in the center of the proper path. I 
continued to watch. Fully oriented and self-assured, he proceeded down the 
sidewalk again. The cane was swinging rhythmically as if beating time to his 
steps. He knew exactly where he was and where he was going. When he was just 
about out of my view, he stopped again. Reaching to his scarf, he tightened it 
more securely about his neck, then steadily continued on. He disappeared among 
the other students, as though nothing unusual had occurred.
     For several minutes after the young man disappeared, I stayed by the window 
and reflected. I remembered the first time I had met a blind person, exactly a 
year ago while attending a birthday party for a friend. I had been advised 
beforehand that a blind fellow had also been invited. During the evening of the 
party I had difficulty determining who the individual was. Then I met Bruce, the 
supposed blind person. He was teaching a group of us the dance steps to the West 
Coast Swing, Latin Hustle, and several other dances. I was particularly 
impressed by his grooming--his clothes were meticulously pressed and 
coordinated. Bruce was tall and very handsome.
     I watched Bruce carefully as the evening progressed, intrigued by his 
confidence and composure. When the party was over, Bruce needed a ride to his 
home across town, and I immediately volunteered. I was eager to talk with him 
alone. As we left, Bruce stepped into the kitchen and picked up a white cane, 
which had been placed in a corner for most of the evening.
     We left the apartment, and I had to quicken my step just to keep pace with 
Bruce. Once alone, I turned to him and bluntly asked, "Why do you carry that 
cane around?" He turned toward me and said, "Because I'm blind." In unbelief I 
retorted, "Come on! How can you do what you were doing in there and still tell 
me that?" He smiled at my questions, but he could tell that I was serious. He 
explained that most people who are visually handicapped are not 100 percent 
without sight. Some can differentiate light and darkness and even discern forms 
to varying degrees. "We develop sight by other means and by concentrating on 
other senses," he explained. I was fascinated by Bruce. The more we talked, the 
more I began to see things from his viewpoint. He radiated confidence, joy of 
life, and extreme faith. It was as if, in developing his other senses, he had 
also developed the ability to communicate spirit to spirit.
     As we proceeded toward his home, Bruce told me more about himself, his 
lifestyle, and his ambitions. I asked another question, "Bruce, what is the 
biggest problem you face being blind?" He thought momentarily. "The biggest 
problems are the misconceptions that people have about the handicapped. Most 
don't realize that a handicapped individual is a normal person. Inside, we're 
just like anyone else." The clarity with which he perceived my previous 
misconceptions was disarming.
     Excitement grew within me as we talked. I had never really understood 
handicapped people before. Lacking understanding, I had always conveniently 
avoided getting too close--I felt awkward, not knowing how to cope with 
circumstances that might arise. I had never taken the opportunity to get too 
near. But my perspective was changing suddenly.
     I turned my VW into the driveway of Bruce's home and rolled to a stop. I 
turned to Bruce, looked at him for a moment, and said softly, "This has been an 
interesting evening for me, Bruce." I couldn't find better words to express my 
feelings. I wanted to hug him. Spontaneously we grasped hands in a firm and 
communicating handshake. "We'll see you later," he said.
     Bruce opened the car door, got out, and walked up the driveway toward his 
home. He reached the large white front doors, reached for the handle, and opened 
the door slightly. Pausing for an instant, he turned and looked toward me. I 
flashed my high beam lights, and Bruce waved goodbye. He pushed the door open 
and disappeared inside. The large door closed gently behind him.
     For a moment I sat in silence. My heart was full. I blinked forcefully 
several times to fight back the tears. I had made a true friend--a courageous 
brother.
     I backed my car out of the driveway and started toward my home. "How can he 
be so happy?" I questioned myself. Bruce had seemed to be more confident and 
happy than many other people I knew. But how could this be with his handicap? I 
searched for answers to these questions.
     If he was so positive and composed even with his handicap, certainly I had 
reason to be more so. But I was learning from him; he was helping me to see with 
proper perspective. I kept going over Bruce's words in my mind: "A handicapped 
individual is a normal person--we're just like anyone else...."
     I was now back at my book-covered desk in the library, thinking again of 
the young man I had watched from the library window. He too had carried a white 
cane--the cane that Bruce had taught me was a symbol of courage, of endurance, 
of independence, and of faith. Just as I use my eyes to see the physical world 
around me, my friends had also learned to perceive the same things by using 
different means. But they had helped me see that knowledge, confidence, and 
understanding do not come by sight alone; they are the products of persistence, 
determination, awareness, sensitivity, and reliance upon the Lord. I had learned 
that the most obvious things can often be the most difficult to see.


[PHOTO/CAPTION 11: Barbara Pierce irons a shirt sleeve]
     This is the Way We Wash Our Clothes
     by Barbara Pierce

>From the Editor: The following article appeared in Remember to Feed the 
Kittens, the sixteenth in the NFB's Kernel Book series of paperbacks. It begins 
with Dr. Maurer's introduction:

     As regular Kernel Book readers know, Barbara Pierce is President of the 
National Federation of the Blind of Ohio, the mother of three grown children, 
the wife of a college English professor, an accomplished homemaker, and the 
writer of delightful stories that sparkle with wit and wisdom. Her current 
offering is no exception. Here is what she has to say:
     
     Do you recall the children's song called, I seem to remember, "This is the 
Way We Wash Our Clothes"? In successive verses singers work their way through 
the days of the week demonstrating with motions the way we wash our clothes, 
iron our clothes, mend our clothes, sweep the floor, and bake the bread. 
     With the ironing board and the broom nearly extinct today and the bread 
machine creating most of the fresh bread in modern homes, perhaps children no 
longer take delight in singing this little tune. On the other hand, I had very 
little idea of what a wash board was when I was a child, yet we vigorously mimed 
washing our clothes on a wash board. It never occurred to us to wonder where the 
washing machine had disappeared to in the song.
     I had a bit of vision when I was a small child, but not enough to pick up 
the motions that went with the song by observing the leader or the other 
children. My mother carefully taught me how to move my hands and arms and also 
what those motions represented. I suspect I may have been the only child in my 
group who knew that those pushing gestures in the Thursday verse represented 
kneading the bread.
     But Mother wasn't satisfied simply to teach me to go through the motions of 
taking care of a home; she insisted that I learn how to be an effective member 
of the family. Once I overcame my initial annoyance at being forced to do chores 
around the house, I have always been grateful that she invested the effort to 
teach me to be self-sufficient.
     How does one do the laundry without looking at the job? The secret of 
efficient clothes washing is proper sorting. But how does a blind person 
accurately sort colors and fabrics? The answer is by touch.
     My first laundry task as a small child was to collect my father's dress 
shirts for their trip to the laundry, where the collars could be starched stiff, 
the way Dad liked them. I liked the stiff collars too, because it was easy to 
find them quickly in the dirty clothes hamper. The rest of the laundry got 
sorted on the basement floor. Underwear and sheets could go together. Jeans, 
wash pants, and boys' and men's socks formed the basis of another pile. 
Obviously delicate fabrics made a third stack. 
     With those things out of the way, I was left with all the pieces that might 
be light colored or might be dark. There was nothing to do but learn to identify 
them. I quickly discovered that I already knew the colors of my own clothes. I 
knew what I had worn in recent days and thrown into the wash. For the rest of 
the family I had to memorize the colors by identifying texture, buttons, and 
location of pockets and zippers. In the early days Mother checked to see that I 
had sorted the loads correctly, but eventually we learned to trust my own 
decisions. After all, if I really wasn't sure in which pile a garment belonged, 
I could leave it out for later consultation.
     Naturally I had to learn the hard way to check for crayons in pockets. But 
all of us have discovered to our sorrow what happens when a red crayon melts in 
the dryer all over a load of light-colored clothes. Actually, throughout all the 
years of laundry for my own three children, I had surprisingly few of these 
catastrophes. This is undoubtedly because my fingers pay close attention to 
information like a bit of extra weight or a hard object in a pocket under 
several layers of cloth. 
     Like every other washing machine in the nation, mine has always tended to 
eat socks. I cannot imagine where so many single socks can disappear in a load 
of wash. Before I discovered the solution to this problem, we had a designated 
orphan drawer in our house. All unmated socks that came through the wash went 
into that drawer. In an emergency a desperate child could usually assemble a 
passable pair of socks from the extras.
     Then I decided to take radical action. I couldn't match a dryer full of 
single socks anyway, so I put a bowl of safety pins in the bathroom and told 
everybody to pin socks together before they went into the laundry baskets. I 
promised that, if socks were pinned, they would be returned to the owner folded 
together. If they went through the wash one by one, they would be dumped into 
the orphan drawer. Everyone soon learned that it was simpler to pin the socks 
together than to brave the sock drawer in search of something to wear.
     I said earlier that the ironing board is almost extinct in America. I 
certainly don't iron nearly as much as my mother did or as I did when I was a 
kid. But mine still gets a fair workout, even today. Partly this is because I 
have the luxury of a laundry room on the second floor. It is a converted sun 
porch. 
     When we first moved to our home, built in 1891, I found myself carrying 
laundry from the bathroom at the back of the second floor to the staircase at 
the front of the house and then back to the basement steps at the rear of the 
first floor. Our house is large--thirteen rooms--and our then toddler was 
frightened to be left alone while I went off to feed the washer and dryer. So I 
usually carried not only the dirty clothes but also the squirmy baby whenever I 
made this extended trip. 
     It was great exercise, but I began to have fantasies about having the 
washer and dryer on the second floor. That is where they have been now for 
twenty years, and it is a lovely arrangement. The only drawback is that I am 
tempted to toss a load into the washer late in the evening and into the dryer 
just before tumbling into bed. The result is wrinkles.
     Actually I rather enjoy ironing. I don't burn myself more than 
occasionally. The iron radiates enough heat to tell my left hand exactly where 
it is. With just a bit of practice it is easy to determine by touch whether the 
wrinkles have disappeared. And, if I accidentally press in a crease, a spritz of 
water allows me to press it out again.
     I fill my steam iron with distilled water to prevent stains from mineral 
deposits on the clothes. Using a funnel, I put the water into a clean dish-
washing-liquid bottle. The nozzle lid on my recycled plastic bottle allows me to 
invert it over the iron's water well before opening the nozzle and squeezing out 
enough water to fill the iron. I can hear the well filling, but even if it 
overflows a bit, holding the iron flat for a moment allows it to spit out the 
excess before I put it down on the fabric.
     This is the way blind people wash our clothes and iron our clothes and take 
care of our families. Is it any different from the way other people do the job? 
Not really. The members of the National Federation of the Blind aren't amazing. 
There is nothing magic about learning to adjust to blindness. It takes a bit of 
time and some practice to train your fingers and ears to do the things that 
other people do with sight, but it can be done. We know because we've done it.


[PHOTO/CAPTION 12: Chip Johnson and his jump instructor in free fall at the 
beginning of the jump]
     Blindness Can't Stop Skydivers
     by Mike Patty

     From the Editor: NFB adult training centers make a point of helping their 
students push their limits. Once you have succeeded at white-water rafting, rock 
climbing, carpentry, or single-handedly feeding forty people, you find it hard 
to picture yourself as incompetent and helpless. So, when several students began 
talking last winter to Colorado Center staff about their wish to go skydiving, 
it was hard to think of reasons for not doing it. Julie Deden, Center Director, 
didn't even try. In fact, she agreed to go along. After all, it's healthy now 
and then for everyone to push back the limitations we place on ourselves.
     So Colorado Center students and staff began making arrangements to go 
skydiving for the first time on April 15. Unfortunately, Mother Nature had other 
ideas. A mid-spring snow storm put an end to the outing, and it was rescheduled 
for Sunday, May 21. This time no snow appeared, so off the group went.
     I asked Julie Deden afterward whether she had enjoyed the experience. The 
best she could say was that she was glad she had done it. She had not been 
prepared for the noise during the free-fall portion of the jump. But if Julie 
Deden was less than euphoric about the experience personally, others in the 
group made up for it with their enthusiasm and delight. The press, as well, 
found the notion of twenty-six blind people jumping out of an airplane worthy of 
some attention. Moreover, they got the story right. This was not a nine-days' 
wonder with no connection to good rehabilitation--this was part of an 
extraordinary program that enables blind people to regain their self-confidence 
and return to their lives as fully participating, contributing members of their 
families and communities.
     On Tuesday, May 30, MSNBC conducted a five-minute interview with Julie 
Deden and Buna Dahal, a member of the staff. It provided Julie and Buna an 
excellent opportunity to describe their experience and explain its value in the 
context of an effective rehabilitation program.
     The following is an article that appeared in the May 22, 2000, edition of 
the Rocky Mountain Times. Here it is:

     Twenty-six students and staff members of the Colorado Center for the Blind 
jumped Sunday from an airplane more than two miles above Longmont's Vance Brand 
Airport. They did it for the same reasons sighted people skydive: to test their 
character and for the plain thrill of it.
     Julie Deden, the center's executive director, said Sunday's jump at the 
Mile-Hi Skydiving Center was the first for all twenty-six. "As far as I know, 
it's the first time anywhere so many blind people have skydived on one day," 
Deden said.
     All made tandem jumps with Mile-Hi instructors.
     The idea for a skydiving outing came from David James, a recent graduate of 
the Colorado Center for the Blind. "I used to ride Harleys before I lost my 
sight two years ago," James said. "I can't do that anymore, but I miss the 
adrenaline rush."
     James said losing his sight in his late forties nearly destroyed him. 
"There was a time when I would get up every morning and had to look hard for 
reasons not to put a bullet in my brain," James said. "But the people at the 
center knew what I was going through. I wouldn't have made it except for them. 
My first week at the center I had to hang sheet rock, cut a Christmas tree, and 
make quiche."
     Soon, James said, he regained his sense of hope. "I learned how to do all 
the things required of living," James said. "I figured, if others can do it, so 
can I."
     Eddie Culp, a blind instructor at the center, was the first one out of the 
plane Sunday. "At first there was a tremendous rush, then it felt like I was 
floating in a dream," Culp said. "It was over too soon."
     Culp said it is important for blind people to push their limits and learn 
to overcome self-doubt. "Most of life is about believing in yourself," Culp 
said. "My philosophy is don't let fear put out the fire."
     Laura Connors, who lost her sight sixteen months ago, said she had long 
fantasized about skydiving.
     "It was always in the back of my mind if I had the guts to do it," Connors 
said. "When I had the opportunity, I didn't want to let it pass."
     Connors said it got very scary at the door of the airplane over the drop 
zone. "But I did what you do when you are scared: just take some deep breaths 
and do it," Connors said.


[PHOTO/CAPTION 13: Noel Nightingale]
     Of Milk Cartons and Belief
     by Noel Nightingale

     From the Editor: Since she wrote this story, which first appeared in 
Reflecting the Flame, Noel Nightingale has been elected to the NFB Board of 
Directors and become a mother. Last November she and her husband Jim became the 
parents of baby Lela. Beginning with Dr. Maurer's introduction, here is Noel 
Nightingale's contribution to the seventeenth Kernel Book:

     Noel Nightingale is President of the National Federation of the Blind of 
Washington. A competent young lawyer, she carries her share of the workload in 
the environmental law firm where she is employed. Her blindness has come 
gradually over a period of a number of years.
     In her story "Of Milk Cartons and Belief," she tells of her battle with the 
office milk cartons and what that battle taught her about her own blindness. 
Here is what she has to say:

     For several years I casually wondered how I would know which end of the 
milk carton to open when my failing vision finally prevented me from seeing the 
arrow on the carton indicating which end to open. Less casually, I often think 
about how I can make people with whom I work at ease with me and my blindness 
and, more basically, what I can do to make sure that I fit in.
     In the office where I work, we have a lunchroom. We have all sorts of 
amenities, from twenty-five-cent soda pop to free bottled fruit juices to 
gourmet coffee. In the lunchroom refrigerator are cartons of milk for use with 
coffee. The milk is shared communally among coworkers.
     Frequently, after I have poured my first cup of coffee in the morning, I 
reach into the refrigerator for some milk and find that there are no open 
cartons. During the first year or two of work I could vaguely see the arrow 
pointing to the end of the carton to open. As my sight rapidly degenerated, I 
often reminded myself that I needed to ask one of my blind friends how I would 
know which end of the carton to open when I could no longer see the arrow.
     It seems silly, but I did not want perpetually to open the wrong end of the 
carton, having then to turn the carton around and open the right end. Everyone 
in the office who also used milk in their coffee would undoubtedly know that it 
was the blind woman who could not manage to open the correct end of the milk 
carton. Silly or not, exceedingly self-conscious or not, I wanted to be able to 
open the right end of the carton on the first try.
     I had intended to ask one or two blind friends what their techniques were 
for opening milk cartons. The question had not, however, risen to the level of a 
priority by the time I actually needed to know the answer. One day I walked into 
the lunchroom and found that I could no longer tell which end of the carton had 
the arrow on it.
     I took a stab at opening the carton, and as I had feared, I opened the 
wrong end. For the next week or so it seemed as if I opened the wrong end more 
often than not. When I went back for that second cup of coffee, I would reach 
into the refrigerator and find the carton with both ends open. I heard it 
screaming, "That blind woman opened me!"
     Over time I experimented to determine whether one end of the carton was 
easier to open than the other. It is. Once I started paying attention to the 
feel of the carton as I tested each end for ease of opening, I found that it is 
actually quite easy to tell which end is the one that wants to open. It is no 
longer even a low-level issue percolating in the back of my mind.
     I have spoken with several older blind people who lost their sight late in 
life and who believe that they cannot operate a touch-button telephone because 
they are blind. They believe that they must be able to see the numbers to know 
which buttons to push. This is simply not true. I cannot see the numbers but use 
a telephone many, many times a day. Most blind people I know use the telephone 
as quickly and frequently as people who can see. 
     There is no trick to dialing a telephone without being able to see the 
numbers. It is merely a matter of remembering where the number one key is and 
knowing how the keypad is organized. And it is not just blind people who 
memorize this information; sighted people instinctively, if not consciously, 
know this information as well.
     Why do these people who were blinded late in life believe that they cannot 
perform this daily task of living? Probably because they have dialed a telephone 
by using their sight most of their lives and cannot imagine that they can do it 
another way. 
     Why did I believe that I could find a way to open milk cartons correctly? 
Through my membership in the National Federation of the Blind I have learned 
that I, as a blind person, can perform those small tasks of daily life as well 
as sighted people. I just need to approach those tasks differently from the way 
I did when I was sighted.
     Sometimes I need to use my imagination, try several methods, or ask my 
blind friends what their techniques are. I have also learned, through the 
National Federation of the Blind, that I can accomplish the larger tasks of 
life. I work; I am married; I own a home with my husband; and I am actively 
involved in my community. My activities have increased, not decreased, as I have 
lost more sight.
     Since I began opening milk cartons using my alternative technique, I have 
had several blind people point out to me that milk cartons come with 
indentations at the end of the carton that indicate which end should be opened. 
I had not noticed that before. There is usually more than one way to accomplish 
a task. The trick is believing that, one way or another, we can do it.
     I recently found a couple of cartons in the lunchroom refrigerator which 
had had both ends opened. No other blind people work with me, so it could only 
have been the handiwork of one of my sighted coworkers. I clearly did not need 
to feel so self-conscious about whether I opened the milk carton correctly.
     The real issue raised by my battle with milk cartons was my anxiety that, 
if I opened both ends, I would be seen as different from the rest of my 
coworkers. Of course, opening both ends of a milk carton would be the least of 
our differences. Most of the time I do things very differently from my coworkers 
because I use a long white cane, Braille, and special computer equipment. On the 
surface it appears that I have little in common with my sighted colleagues.
     The National Federation of the Blind has taught me that my blindness does 
not make me inferior to my sighted colleagues. It just means that I need to do 
things differently from the way they do. When I use the tools that blind people 
have developed, I am capable of working at the same level as my sighted peers.
     I still strive daily, though, to do everything I can subtly to show my 
colleagues that we have more in common than not. They may not think consciously 
about how to open a milk carton or dial a telephone, but then neither do I most 
of the time.


[PHOTO/CAPTION 14: Jim and Sharon Omvig]
     You Can Do It, Too!
     Capital Campaigning Is Great Fun
     by Jim and Sharon Omvig

     From the Editor: Jim and Sharon Omvig were friends and colleagues of Dr. 
Jernigan for many years. Now they are dedicated capital campaign volunteers. 
Here they reflect on what they have learned about campaigning during the past 
several months. This is what they say:

     I am what I have often referred to as "one of the lucky ones." Having been 
born in the right place at the right time, I had the privilege of being one of 
Dr. Kenneth Jernigan's early students--in 1961. From that time until his death, 
we were more than teacher and student: we were colleagues in a movement.
     Sharon, too, became a committed member of the cause, but by a different 
entry path from mine. She went to work for Dr. Jernigan in 1964.
     Through the years one of the great joys in our lives was simply being in 
his presence and observing and marveling at his dreaming, planning, designing, 
and building. It is fair to say that, if he really wanted something to happen, 
it did. He made it happen!
     Although we now live some distance from Baltimore, throughout the last year 
and a half of his life, we saw Dr. Jernigan as often as we could. Even in that 
time of sadness seeing him yet again dreaming and planning and designing brought 
the same old feelings of joy and wonder. We will never forget the delight he got 
from showing us each and every detail of the model of the new National Center 
facility.
     Who can say whether this time he knew that he would not personally be able 
to complete the project by overseeing the actual construction himself but that, 
for this final dream, he would rely upon us to finish it. What we do know for an 
absolute certainty is that he did intend one way or another to complete the 
project.
     I wish that the Omvigs could say proudly that immediately after the 1999 
Atlanta convention we rolled up our sleeves, took up the challenge, and went to 
work on the campaign; but I can't. Because of pending surgery and several prior 
commitments, we did not get started in the fall of 1999.
     Family illness and two deaths took us to Iowa for the winter, so we got 
started there. It's surprising. Once you make a commitment to yourself and begin 
seriously to work for the campaign, an amazing transformation occurs. All at 
once what seemed difficult and terribly time-consuming becomes challenging and 
inspiring--it becomes fun.
     For purposes of this article we would like to talk about three aspects of 
our work. First, (that is, after you are armed with accurate information about 
the new building), where do you get the names of people to approach? We have 
found that the best way to develop lots of possibilities is through some 
brainstorming. I can't tell you how many conversations I have had with Ramona 
Walhof. Every time we talk I think of new possibilities: "Oh, Mrs. Walhof, did I 
ever tell you I grew up with a boy from Roland, Iowa, who went on to become an 
All American basketball player. He does TV now, and he owns an oil business."
     Conversations like this with Mrs. Walhof, Dr. Maurer, Mrs. Jernigan, Mr. 
Connelly, or local chapter members lengthens the Omvigs' list every time. It is 
astonishing to realize the great number of people you know or at least people 
with whom you have significant ties when you really think about it.
     The second issue we would like to touch upon has to do with dear family 
members or very close personal friends. Should we approach them about giving? We 
wrestled briefly with this question ourselves, and we decided of course we do! 
We love them, and they love us. They already know that the NFB is central to our 
lives--it literally changed my (Jim's) life--and, because of this knowledge, 
they have great regard for the work of the NFB. Rather than being insulted by 
our asking, they would be more likely to be insulted if we did not ask.
     So naturally we have approached lots of family members and friends, and 
we'll approach many more. Some will want to give and are able to do it, and 
others will want to give but can't, at least right now. What is important is 
that we ask.
     The third thing we want to touch upon briefly is that dreaded outcome, 
disappointment. How do you handle that? Do you simply throw in the towel and 
quit when someone whom you counted on turns you down? Of course you do not quit. 
You simply move on. Lest you think that disappointing outcomes will happen only 
to you, not to the Omvigs, let me set the record straight. That very thing 
happened to us in Des Moines. Longtime friends said, "No."
     While it was disappointing, we heeded our own advice and moved on. We 
contacted other friends and went to visit with them, and we were successful in 
getting four people to make generous pledges. It just may be that, upon 
reflection in the future, the friends who turned us down will reconsider their 
decision and join with us in this exciting effort. We certainly hope so.
     These, then, are a few thoughts we want to share with you. We are 
committed, enthusiastic, and determined; and we do not intend to let Dr. 
Jernigan down. We hope you'll all join with us to turn his final dream, the 
National Research and Training Institute, into a spectacular reality.



     Have you made your campaign pledge yet? We need everyone's help. The 
construction cost of our projected National Research and Training Institute for 
the Blind is eighteen million dollars. Please take this opportunity to complete 
your pledge form. Without you our job will be just that much harder.

     The Campaign to Change What It Means to Be Blind
     Capital Campaign Pledge Intention

Name:_______________________________________
Home Address:_______________________________
City, State, and Zip:_______________________
Home Phone: ________________________________
Work Phone:_________________________________
E-mail address:_____________________________
Employer:___________________________________
Work Address:_______________________________
City, State, Zip:___________________________

     To support the priorities of the Campaign, I (we) pledge the sum of 
$___________.

     My (our) pledge will be payable in installments of $ __________ over the 
next ____ years (we encourage pledges paid over five years), beginning 
_____________, on the following schedule (check one): __ annually, __ semi-
annually, __ quarterly, __ monthly
     I (we) have enclosed a down payment of $ ________________
___ Gift of stock: _____________________ shares of _____________
___ My employer will match my gift.
     Please list (my) our names in all campaign reports and on the Campaign Wall 
of Honor in the appropriate Giving Circle as follows:
__ I (We) wish to remain anonymous.
Signed: ________________________________ Date: __________________



     Recipes

     This month's recipes were submitted by the NFB of Arizona.

[PHOTO/CAPTION 15: Norma Robertson]
     Green Chili Con Carne
     by Norma Robertson

     Norma Robertson is the President of the NFB of Phoenix and a Member of the 
Board of Directors of the NFB of Arizona.

Ingredients:
2 pounds diced stew meat
1 medium onion, finely diced
flour for dredging
salt and garlic to taste
1 can Ortega diced green chilies
     (not smallest size can; next size larger)
1 8-ounce can tomato sauce

     Method: Dice meat. Roll pieces of meat in flour. Season to taste with 
garlic and salt. Brown meat and add finely chopped onion and chilies. Continue 
to brown. Add tomato sauce and two cans of water (equal to about 2 cups of 
liquid). Bring to a rolling boil. Reduce heat to simmer and cover tightly for 
about forty-five minutes.


     Spanish Rice
     by Norma Robertson

Ingredients:
1 cup long grain white rice
1 medium onion, chopped
1 medium bell pepper, chopped
1 8-ounce can tomato sauce

     Method: Brown rice in a small amount of shortening until it is nice and 
brown. Add onion and bell pepper and continue to stir a little. Then add can of 
tomato sauce and three cans of water. Season with salt, pepper, and garlic. 
Bring to a very fast boil. Let rice boil for about a minute. Reduce to a simmer 
and cover for twenty minutes. NOTE: Once you add the tomato sauce and water to 
rice and blend with other ingredients, do not stir again. Stirring will make the 
rice sticky and gummy.


[PHOTO/CAPTION 16: Judy Tunell]
     Oven Cheese Fondue
     by Judy Tunell

     Judy Tunell is First Vice President of the NFB of Arizona and Second Vice 
President of the NFB of Phoenix.

Ingredients:
10 slices sourdough bread
1 teaspoon salt
6 eggs
3 cups shredded cheddar cheese
3 cups milk
2 teaspoons parsley, finely chopped
1 teaspoon dry mustard
3 teaspoons onion, finely chopped, optional
2 cups cleaned, cooked shrimp (optional)

     Method: Heat oven to 325 degrees. Remove crusts from bread. Cut bread in 
cubes. Beat together eggs, milk, and seasonings. Stir in bread cubes, cheese, 
and onions. Pour mixture into ungreased 11-1/2-by-7-1/2-by-1-1/2-inch baking 
dish. Bake uncovered 1 hour until center is set. Makes eight servings. I 
frequently serve this as a brunch item with fresh fruit. It is also a good 
supper main dish item with tossed green salad, mixed vegetables, and fruit. 
Sometimes my family requests salsa on the side. The salsa adds a good, zesty 
taste.


     Turkey Cheese Enchilada Casserole
     by Judy Tunell

1/2 stick butter or margarine
3 cups cooked turkey or chicken
1 medium onion, chopped
1 dozen corn tortillas
1 can diced green chilies, cut into 1-inch strips
1 jar Old El Paso or other taco sauce
1 pound jack cheese shredded
1 pound cheddar cheese, shredded
1 can cream of mushroom soup
1 can cream of chicken soup
1 can consomme chicken broth

     Method: Melt butter in saucepan and add onion. Cook until tender. Add green 
chilies, taco sauce, soup, and turkey or chicken. Place layer of tortillas on 
bottom of 2-inch-deep casserole dish. Spread alternate layers of soup mixture, 
tortillas, and cheese. Repeat three layers twice more, making sure top layer is 
cheese. Bake at 350 degrees for thirty minutes to one hour, or until cheese is 
melted. Serves eight to ten.


     Tequila Cake
     by Judy Tunell

Ingredients:
1 box yellow cake mix
4 eggs
1 3-1/2-ounce package pistachio, French vanilla, or plain vanilla instant 
pudding
1/2 cup plain sour cream
1/2 cup tequila
1/2 cup corn oil
1/4 cup orange liqueur
glaze (optional)

     Method: Beat all ingredients except glaze for four minutes at medium speed 
in an electric mixer. Pour batter into a well greased and floured Bundt cake 
pan. Bake at 350 degrees for fifty-five minutes. Cool slightly on rack before 
removing from pan. If desired, while cake is still quite warm, spread glaze (1 
cup confectioners sugar and 1 tablespoon orange liqueur) on cake. Serves twelve 
or more.


     Hot Cocoa Mix
     by Gerry Piatt

     Gerry Piatt is the Treasurer of the Tucson Chapter.

Ingredients:
4 cups non-dairy creamer
1-1/2 teaspoon salt
2 cups cocoa
1-1/2 cup sugar or 32-ounce package sweetener
2 cups non-fat dry milk

     Method: Mix all ingredients thoroughly and carefully since the mixture is 
very powdery. Makes nine-and-a-half cups. Place in covered container. Use three 
heaping teaspoons to one cup very hot water. Dissolves best in water that has 
almost come to a boil. Adjust ingredients to suit taste. I like more cocoa and 
less sugar.


[PHOTO/CAPTION 17: Toby LongFace]
     Peanut Butter Oatmeal Delights: Dog Treats
     by Toby LongFace

     Toby LongFace is President of the Tucson Chapter of the NFB of Arizona and 
a member of the affiliate's Board of Directors.

Ingredients:
1 tablespoon honey
1 tablespoon baking powder
1 cup oatmeal
1 tablespoon molasses
2 tablespoons peanut butter
1 egg
1 cup corn meal
peanuts (optional)

     Method: Mix all ingredients and add enough water to make dough moist and 
roll into a ball. Roll dough to a thickness of 1/2 inch. Cut with valentine 
cookie cutter. Bake at 300 degrees for forty-five minutes. Leave in oven till 
oven cools completely. Makes 115 small, heart-shaped delights. Good enough for 
people too.


[PHOTO/CAPTION 18: Lee Kerr]
     Oyster Stew
     by Lee R. Kerr

     Lee Kerr is a member of the Board of Directors of the Tucson Chapter.

Ingredients:
3 quarts milk
1 stick butter
salt and pepper to taste
2 cans oyster parts

     Method: Place milk in large pot on stove and bring to a simmer. Add butter, 
salt, and pepper to taste. When butter is melted, add oysters and allow to 
simmer ten or fifteen minutes. Serve with oyster crackers.


     Quick Chili
     by Lee R. Kerr

Ingredients:
1 bag Schilling chili mix
2 pounds ground beef
1 small can tomato sauce

     Method: Brown ground beef in large skillet. Drain grease. Add tomato sauce 
and chili mix. Add water. Allow to simmer until water has been reduced and 
mixture is at desired consistency.


     If You Can't Come to the Potluck
     Send the Casserole Anyway
     by Sharon Omvig

     Sharon Omvig is a longtime active Federationist in her own right. She is 
also the wife of NFB leader Jim Omvig.

Ingredients:
1 cup cooked rice
1 7-ounce can diced green chilies
3 medium zucchini, sliced
1 large tomato, sliced
1 pound jack cheese, shredded
2 cups sour cream
1 teaspoon oregano
1 teaspoon garlic salt
2 tablespoons chopped green pepper
2 tablespoons chopped green onion
1 tablespoon parsley

     Method: Thinly slice and parboil zucchini. In a well-buttered large 
casserole dish, place cooked rice. Cover with chilies and half the cheese. Next 
layer zucchini and tomato. Mix sour cream with spices, green pepper, and onion, 
and pour over vegetables. Layer remaining cheese on top and sprinkle with 
parsley. Bake at 350 degrees for forty minutes. Serves eight unless everyone 
wants seconds.


     Monitor Miniatures

APH and Talking Book Narrators Clash during Contract Negotiations:
     In recent weeks a long-standing dispute between the American Printing House 
for the Blind and its corps of professional readers has come into the open. The 
readers, who in 1998 affiliated with AFTRA (the American Federation of 
Television and Radio Artists of the AFL-CIO), have sought to negotiate for a new 
contract. According to the readers, the federal government issued three unfair 
labor practice complaints against APH during the collective bargaining process. 
Now APH has apparently refused altogether to deal with the union representative, 
arguing that Kentucky is a right-to-work state, so the Printing House is not 
required to recognize the union.
     The readers say that APH actually jeopardized its contract with the 
National Library Service and its entire recording program by threatening a 
lockout during negotiations. The readers request that those supportive of their 
position write to Dr. Tuck Tinsley to express their support for the readers and 
their eagerness for APH to negotiate in good faith with the union to achieve 
fair wages, even for part-time readers, and reasonable benefits. The contact 
information is Dr. Tuck Tinsley, President, American Printing House for the 
Blind, 1839 Frankfort Avenue, Louisville, Kentucky 40206-0085, Phone: (502) 895-
2405, Fax: (502) 899-2334.

Elected:
     The NFB of Tennessee conducted its annual convention March 10 through 12. 
The following officers were elected: Michael Seay, President; Sandy Booher, 
First Vice President; Joel Tinning, Second Vice President; Lev Williams, 
Treasurer; Lynda Crisp, Secretary; and Reggie Lindsey, June Mangum, Melba 
Harding, and Clarence Manning, Jr., Board Members.

New Chapter:
     Mark Riccobono, President of the NFB of Wisconsin, reports that on April 8, 
2000, the twenty-fifth anniversary of the organizing of the Wisconsin affiliate, 
the Chippewa Valley Chapter of the NFB of Wisconsin was founded. The elected 
leaders of this new and energetic chapter are Lisa Hansen, President; Brad 
Hodges, Vice President; Brenda Cox, Secretary; and Joe Regnier, Treasurer. 
Congratulations to this new chapter.

[PHOTO/CAPTION 19: Allison and Charlie Joyce]
[PHOTO/CAPTION 20: Lynn and Michael Baillif dancing together at their wedding 
reception]
Wedding Bells:
     On May 27, 2000, Allison Scheuermann, Assistant to the President of the 
National Federation of the Blind, and Charles Joyce were married in Baltimore. A 
week later Lynn Mattioli, Past President of the Baltimore Chapter, and Michael 
Baillif, a tax attorney with Ernst and Young in Washington, D.C., were also 
married in Baltimore. Those who attended the ceremonies report that both were 
lovely services and great parties. We congratulate both couples and wish them 
all joy.

Position Available:
     We have been asked to carry the following announcement:
     A prominent non-profit social service agency based in the southwestern Ohio 
area seeks an experienced professional to direct and manage the agency. The 
mission of the agency is to promote independence and foster the highest quality 
of life for people with visual impairments, including those with multiple 
disabilities. The agency provides comprehensive rehabilitation services 
including training and support for independent living, orientation and mobility 
instruction, vocational training, job placement, counseling, recreation, and 
youth services. The position of President reports to the Board of Trustees and 
is responsible for the day-to-day operations of the agency and its staff.
     Qualifications require significant senior-level (CEO) management experience 
in a complex, not-for-profit social service agency; significant board-of-
trustee-interaction experiences; advanced degree; and knowledge of the post-
acute-through-independent-living rehabilitation continuum. Fund-
raising/corporate sponsorship experience is a plus.
     Send resume and salary history to Nick Rogish, Rogish Associates, 615 
Copeland Mill Road, Suite 1F, Westerville, Ohio 43081, phone (614) 899-2525, fax 
(614) 899-2524, e-mail <nick@rogish.com>.

[PHOTO/CAPTION 21: Jacob Freid]
In Memoriam:
     Long-time Executive Director of the Jewish Braille Institute and close 
friend of Dr. Jacobus tenBroek, Dr. Jacob Freid died on May 1, 2000. The 
obituary published in the New York Times edition of May 2, 2000, reads as 
follows:
     The Jewish Braille Institute of America records with sorrow the passing of 
our Executive Director Emeritus, whose professional leadership guided the 
Institute for more than a quarter of a century until his retirement in 1979. In 
the ensuing years he remained as the deeply respected editor of the Jewish 
Braille Review and JBI Voice, the Institute's magazines for the blind and 
visually impaired world-wide. His love of Israel, dedication to blind people 
everywhere, and intellectual stature will long be remembered and cherished. May 
his memory serve as a blessing.

Elected:
     April 10, 2000, was the date of the Chicago chapter's annual election. 
Those serving as officers for the coming year are Steve Hastalis, President; 
Debbie Stein, First Vice President; Brian Johnson, Second Vice President; Kelly 
Doty, Secretary; and Kate Mayer, Treasurer. The Board Members are Tom Elkins, 
Pam Gillmore, Pam Provost, and Anthony Thomas.

Audio Guide on Student Aid Available:
     We have been asked to carry the following announcement:
     The 2000-2001 Student Aid Guide, available from the United States 
Department of Education, is available on cassette and on compact disc.
     Intended for visually impaired students and their parents, the audio guide 
uses a simulated telephone conversation between a counselor and a student to 
provide information on post-secondary student financial aid. Students and 
organizations may request free copies of the audio guide (either cassette or 
compact disc) by calling (800) 433-3243.

[PHOTO/CAPTION 22: Chris Boone]
Appointed:
     We recently learned that Chris Boone, a long-time Federationist who has 
been living and working in Pennsylvania for several years, has been named 
Director of the Pennsylvania Bureau of Blindness and Visual Services, the 
state's agency for the blind. She began the job Monday, June 19. We wish Chris 
good luck in her new assignment.

Correction:
     Chris Weaver points out that we misspelled the name of a very helpful 
member of his team in the article, "New Computer Programs to Assist Blind 
Mathematicians." It was Kelly Burma who made significant contributions to 
development of the mathematics programs developed at the University of New 
Mexico. The Braille Monitor regrets the error.

Future Reflections Now Available by E-Mail:
     Barbara Cheadle, Editor of the quarterly magazine of the National 
Organization of Parents of Blind Children, reports this important information. 
Here is how to subscribe: send an e-mail message to <listserv@nfbcal.org>. The 
message should contain one line of text. Here is an example using Cheadle's 
first and last names--you of course use your own name to subscribe. "subscribe 
future reflections barbara cheadle." You will receive a confirmation message and 
the most current issue, which right now is volume 19, number 1, but may be 
number 2 by the time this issue of the Braille Monitor goes to press.

E-mail Without a Computer:
     The National Federation of the Blind has entered into a relationship with a 
company called CrossMedia Networks Corporation. It has a service through which 
you can send and receive e-mail using a standard touch-tone telephone. You 
control the system with your voice and without a computer. You can also control 
the speed and pitch of the voice used to read your e-mail and sort and manage it 
in many ways.
     This service, called MyInBox, can be your primary e-mail account; or a copy 
of the e-mail you send and receive through another Internet Service Provider can 
be sent to MyInBox so that you can read and respond to your e-mail when a 
computer is not available. The cost of the service is $7.95 per month. Use is 
unlimited if you call the service using an access number in the 703 area code. 
You can access the service through a toll-free number for thirty minutes at no 
additional charge. There is a one-time set-up fee of $5. CrossMedia will donate 
a portion of your monthly subscription fee to the Federation.
     To sign up for this service, you will need to provide the following 
information:
*Your current e-mail address if you have one.
*Name, address, and phone number.
*A seven-digit account code and a four-digit pass code that you will use to 
access your e-mail. We recommend your current phone number or other easy-to-
remember phone number for your account code.
*Promotion code (NFB) and a credit card (Visa, MasterCard, or American Express).     
If you have a current e-mail address, you will also need to provide it and the 
password you use when accessing your e-mail so that a copy of messages can be 
received into MyInBox voice e-mail service. This information will remain 
confidential.
     For more information or to sign up for this service, please call CrossMedia 
Customer Service at (877) 726-7877. Customer Service will assist you to sign up 
for MyInBox. If you mention the promotion code "NFB" to the Customer Service 
representative, the first thirty days of service will be free.
     CrossMedia gives you an address book to hold the e-mail addresses of people 
with whom you wish to communicate. Ordinarily a person would make changes to 
this address book through the Internet. If, however, you don't have access to 
the Internet, you can have CrossMedia's Customer Service representatives make 
the changes for you--at $2 per call.
     To hear a demonstration of CrossMedia's MyInBox service, you can call (877) 
246-3366.

Western Pennsylvania School for the Blind Reunion:
     We have been asked to carry the following announcement:
     The Alumni Association of the Western Pennsylvania School for Blind 
Children will be holding its biennial convention the weekend of August 4, 5, and 
6 on the school campus.
     The cost for the entire weekend, including dues, will be $56; for those who 
wish to attend only the banquet, the cost is $26. Come and have a terrific time 
getting re-acquainted with old friends.
     The deadline for registration is July 15. To learn more or to make your 
reservations for the 2000 convention, contact Louise Flannigan, President, WPSBC 
Alumni Association, 1348 Beverly Road, Port Vue, Pennsylvania 15133, or call 
412-672-7405

Elected:
     The Central Delaware Chapter of the NFB of Delaware elected new officers at 
its March 18 meeting. They are Debbie Briddell, President; Addie C. Pack, Vice 
President; and Doris Blake, Secretary/Treasurer.

Hoping to Buy:
     We have been asked to carry the following announcement:
     If you have an Optacon that you are willing to sell, please contact Konnie 
Ellis at 605-393-9512, or e-mail <Konnie@hills.net>.

Organizational Products for Sale:
     We have been asked to carry the following announcement:
     HandiWorks, a company specializing in organizational products, announces 
the availability of its catalog, which includes cane holders of different 
styles, dog guide sleeves, signs for dog guide users who do not want their dogs 
petted while in harness, and organizational fanny packs and wallets.
     To request a catalog, call (800) 331-6123 or (818) 704-7511, or write to 
Tee Johnson, Representative, HandiWorks, 17216 Saticoy Street, No. 418, Van 
Nuys, California 91406.

[PHOTO/CAPTION 23: Donovan Cooper]
In Memoriam:
     We are deeply sorry to report the death of Donovan Cooper on Saturday, June 
3, 2000. Donovan was at his Los Angeles area home with his wife Trudy when he 
suffered a heart attack. Donovan served as an officer and member of the Board of 
Directors of the NFB of California and was also a leader in the Diabetes Action 
Network, where he served terms as President at both the state and national 
levels. Donovan delivered a moving speech at the 1990 National Convention in 
which he described his job and credited Dr. Jernigan, the NFB, and the blindness 
training he received in Iowa for turning his life around. Donovan Cooper was a 
wise and generous leader of the NFB, and he will be deeply missed. We all join 
in expressing our sympathy to Trudy and the other members of Donovan's family.

Read Your Bank Statements and Bills Yourself:
     We have been asked to carry the following announcement:
     Do you want to manage your financial affairs privately? Tell your bank and 
utility, credit card, and investment companies about Accessible Braille Services 
(ABS), a division of Metrolina Association for the Blind (MAB).
     Using advanced technology, ABS accepts transmitted data and printed bills 
and statements from companies so blind and visually impaired customers can read 
their monthly financial mail in Braille or large print. Most companies do not 
charge customers for this service.
     MAB is a private, non-profit United Way agency in Charlotte, North 
Carolina, that has delivered local rehabilitation services to people who are 
blind and visually impaired since 1934. The agency's ABS division also produces 
Braille and large-print textbooks for schools throughout the United States and 
in several foreign countries.
     Companies can learn more about ABS at MAB's Web site, <www.mab-jlbm.com> or 
by calling (704) 887-5101.

Attention Braille Proofreaders:
     We have been asked to carry the following announcement:
     Braille International, located in Stuart, Florida, requires a Braille 
proofreader; full-time, full benefits, relocation costs negotiable. Braille 
reading fluency essential, NLS certification desirable, but training on the job 
available. Salary dependent upon experience and qualifications, minimum starting 
salary (uncertified) $7.50 an hour. Replies to Braille International, Inc., 3290 
SE Slater Street, Stuart, Florida 34997, phone: (800) 336-3142, fax: (561) 286-
8909.

Bible Available:
     We have been asked to carry the following announcement:
     Shrinkwrap Computer Products announces the availability of the Road Runner 
Talking Bible Edition. The Talking Bible is a completely self-contained device 
about the size of an audio cassette. It contains the complete indexed text of 
the Bible. Using synthetic speech, you can navigate through the Bible by 
Testament, book, chapter, verse, and line. Buttons are provided for each of 
these functions. The Talking Bible will run for many weeks on two AA batteries. 
You listen to it through any Walkman-style headphones or with an external 
speaker. The Talking Bible does not require the use of a computer.
     The Talking Bible comes in four versions: King James, American Standard, 
New American Standard, and New International Version. The package includes the 
Bible handheld unit, an initial set of batteries, and taped instructions. You 
can hear a demonstration of the Talking Bible in Real Audio at 
<http://www.readingmachines.com>. The Road Runner Talking Bible costs $199 plus 
shipping and is available prepaid from ShrinkWrap Computer Products, 11706 
Saddle Crescent Circle, Oakton, Virginia 22124-2342, phone: (800) 377-0774. Send 
e-mail to <Bible@Shrinknet.com>.


     NFB PLEDGE

     I pledge to participate actively in the effort of the National Federation 
of the Blind to achieve equality, opportunity, and security for the blind; to 
support the policies and programs of the Federation; and to abide by its 
constitution.
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