undeniable calamity and loss, is yet ready to lend a steadying hand,
encourage the uncertain feet to their old, free movements, lead the
troubled thoughts into other channels, and find new methods of doing old
things. Thus encouraged, the blind adult will soon resume his normal
attitude, realize that much good work may yet be done, and that others
have blazed a trail which he may follow, if he will. But if his family
and friends feel that, because eyesight is lost, all is lost, and tell
him that, because of his affliction he can do nothing, he will do
nothing. But if they tell him he has a handicap, and that they will help
him to work it off, all his fighting blood will come to the rescue, and
he will say, with Emerson, "the king is the man who can." I give this
sentence to all my pupils, and their spirit leaps to the call, and,
holding to my hand for the first few, uncertain steps, trusting in my
assurance that very soon they will find their way along this new path,
the bent shoulders straighten, the bowed head is lifted, the darkness is
dispelled by the light of purpose, soul sight replaces physical sight,
and the pupil is ready to face life again, undaunted and unafraid. What
a wonderful privilege, what a rare opportunity for service, to the
teacher alive to the possibilities of her unique position! "When the
song goes out of your life, you can not start another while it is
ringing in your ears; but let a bit of a silence fall, and then, maybe,
a psalm will come, by and by." To live by a song is all very beautiful
and wonderful, but to live by a psalm is braver and worthier. And, in
the case of the blind adult, the readjustment period may be called the
interim between the song and the psalm.
During these trying months, the blind adult should not be left alone, to
fight his way "out of darkness, through blood, into light." He should
have immediate and competent care at the hands of one who is familiar
with his needs, and familiar, too, with the possibilities of his altered
condition. An occupation, however light, is an absolute necessity.
Enforced idleness is an added affliction, and one not easily borne. The
government realizes this fact, and its program for the blinded soldier
includes many forms of handcraft, to be taught in the hospitals. Netting
is taught, and the soldiers are encouraged to whittle. I was glad to see
this latter occupation included in the "first aid" program, as I have
recommended it for many years. When a man whittles, he whistles, maybe
not just at first, but some day, almost before he realizes it, he finds
himself whistling, and he is then well on the road toward a sane
acceptance of the new conditions. I have found whittling to be as
soothing to masculine nerves as knitting or crocheting to feminine ones.
The ability to use the hands in some light work, removes the feeling of
helplessness and enables the adult to keep his mind on his fingers; and
this effort at concentration is often the means of preserving reason,
and reviving in the soul the desire to take up the struggle of life
again.
At this stage, the adult should be induced to learn to read raised type,
and to write letters to his friends. There are several writing devices
by means of which a blind person can once more use pencil or pen, and
the ability to do this marks another milestone in his progress.
When the adult is able to read and write once more, perhaps to use the
typewriter, he feels encouraged, and begins to ask what other blind men
are doing, and to wonder what avenues of usefulness still remain open to
him. Whenever practicable, I induce the men to resume their former
occupations, or suggest other lines of work suited to their altered
condition. One young man who was an electrical engineer before his
blindness, now wires houses in Los Angeles, his work always passing the
inspector, despite the opposition of sighted competitors. He has his own
shop, and there he assembles chandeliers, repairs motors, and charges
storage batteries. It takes him longer to do the work than formerly, but
its character is the same, and his heart sings with the joy of the task,
and he is working off his handicap, in the hope that others may follow
where he leads. In May he cleared one hundred and fifty dollars, above
all expenses. Another young man supports two small children raising
poultry, designing his own roosts, coops and troughs. Another man is
making good selling janitor and sanitary supplies to hotels and
apartment houses. Two of the men are doing well in a house to house
canvass for brushes of various kinds. Several men are in the real estate
business, and one has bought a home and is supporting his aged father.
Another does expert work with the typewriter and dictaphone.
I encourage the women to knit, crochet, sew and cook by proving to them
that this is possible without eyesight, and I feel certain that, through
such efforts, many a domestic tragedy has been averted. I induce the
older men, or those who can not take up any line of business, to work in
the garden, chop wood, cut lawns, go to the near-by stores, and make
themselves a necessary factor in the household. The possibilities of our
work, and the real good accomplished, can not be told in words, but its
effects may be seen in many homes where men and women, strengthened and
encouraged, are once more assuming their rightful places in the
household, sharing the work and the responsibility, just as in the days
before blindness came upon them.
In order to bring the work within reach of those to whom it is not
possible to give oral instruction, we have a correspondence course for
pupils in this and neighboring states. In this way, we are reaching
people from Humboldt to San Diego county in this state, and the list
includes persons from Arizona, Washington, Nevada and Oregon. This
course is well known to every county librarian in the state, and even
custodians of very small branches send us the names of blind persons in
their vicinity. Among the correspondence pupils is a man who was
superintendent of a power plant before losing his eyesight, and he still
holds the position, despite his handicap. He tests meters in three power
houses daily, walking a distance of three miles in order to reach them
all. I taught him to read and write two systems, to use a writing board,
and he has now mastered the typewriter. He is a brave man silently
fighting his way along the dark trail, and I am privileged in being
permitted to guide his unaccustomed feet over the rocks and crevices I
have long since learned to avoid. Another of the pupils is in the
insurance business, and is also one of the Four Minute men in his
country's service. I could give you many more instances of the splendid
courage of these men and women who, though deprived of the most
important of the special senses in adult life, are cheerfully doing
their best, wasting no time in straining after the fruit just over
"Fate's barbed wire fence."
Our work carries us into hospitals and almshouses, and, through the
co-operation of charitable organizations, we find the poor and, in
addition to teaching them to read, we endeavor to better their
condition, and the charities are always glad to second our efforts. The
teacher in Los Angeles goes regularly to the County Hospital and County
Farm, and up here I teach in the San Francisco Hospital, Relief Home,
and in the San Leandro Infirmary, and it is a great joy to minister to
these lonely, friendless souls. In the Relief Home I have a splendid
class, and I go there once each week, and read to all the men in the
ward, blind and seeing, before giving the lessons. Two of the men are
knitting, one is making squares for the Belgian baby blankets, and the
other a muffler for the Navy League. When I asked for volunteer
knitters, one old colored man said, "Madam, my hands are not steady
enough to knit, but I can hold the yarn for some man to wind."
I am also teaching in the State Industrial Home for Adult Blind in
Oakland, and I look upon the afternoon spent there as the redletter day
of the week. I go from there each Tuesday with a fresh supply of courage
and inspiration. The men collect funny stories to tell me, and the women
show their appreciation in countless, little ways. The State Library is
proud of its borrowers in this institution, and not long ago had some
pictures taken, showing the men reading[1] and the women knitting. It is
an inspiring sight to see the men waiting for their lessons. They come
in from the shop, where they have been sorting broom corn, sewing or
tying brooms--young men and old--all eager to avail themselves of the
services of the teacher, anxious to learn everything possible that will
help to broaden their outlook on life--fine, brave fellows, all of them.
Many have become blind within recent years, victims of industrial
accidents in factories, quarries or mines. The thought of the blinded
soldier has roused these men to renewed effort, in the hope that their
success as broom makers may encourage other blind men who must learn a
trade after the war. And their broom shop is a wonderful place to visit,
with seventy blind men, and a blind foreman to inspire and encourage the
workers. The business of the institution is principally wholesale,
although some of the blind men have worked up a good retail trade in
Oakland. The sales of the institution average $6,500 per month, and with
increased capital, more material and a larger plant, it could handle
three times its present business. The board of directors will ask the
legislature to increase the appropriation, to enlarge the plant, and to
provide an industrial teacher to go into the homes of the blind, teach
them weaving, basketry, chair caning and knitting, the Home to market
the products, deducting the cost of material from the amount paid to the
workers. This industrial teacher is greatly needed, and it is hoped the
legislature will make it possible for the Home to enlarge its sphere of
usefulness and provide employment for many who are not inmates, but who
need to contribute to their own support.
[Footnote 1: See illustration, p. 4.]
The men of the Home are not alone in their desire to help in the hour of
their country's need. More than a dozen women are knitting for the men
in the trenches. They are an Auxiliary of the Navy League, and their
work is the finest of any turned in by the thousands of knitters in the
bay region. They knit socks and sweaters, helmets and mufflers. One of
the women made five pairs of socks in one week, with never a dropped
stitch anywhere. This same woman made three sweaters in ten days, all
perfect garments. The wife of the superintendent is the teacher, and two
of the blind women help the others by picking up dropped stitches,
straightening puckers, and suggesting easier methods to the
inexperienced workers. Those who can not knit, snip rags for the
ambulance pillows, hem Red Cross handkerchiefs, and sew on hospital
quilts. In addition to this, a blind invalid in San Francisco rips up
work poorly done by seeing knitters, and the members of our wonderful
auxiliary make perfect garments from the used wool. This stimulates them
to do their very best, for they know they are proving to the public that
the fingers of the blind worker are deft and sure, and that, given the
opportunity, they can knit as well, and often better, than their more
fortunate sisters. They feel, too, that they are doing their best to
promote the comfort of the soldiers, doing it evenings, after working in
the shop all day, where they cane chairs and make toy and whisk brooms.
I am sure we need not go to the hospitals of France in search of blind
heroes--we have them right here in our midst, and are proud of them. The
State Library permits me to devote all the time necessary to keep the
women supplied with wool, and return the garments to the Navy League.
The library regards this as a part of its campaign of enlightenment, and
it is confident untold good will result, both to the public and to the
blind. In addition to their work, both men and women read a great deal,
and dozens of books are mailed to and from the Home each day.
And so the State Library is doing its share toward the re-education of
the blind adult, has been doing it for the past thirteen years. It
provides the best books available in the various types. It has over
eight thousand books in circulation, and its list of borrowers numbers
more than one thousand. The keynote of this department is Service, and
each borrower is made to feel that his success is of vital importance to
the Library, and when a new reader is added to the list, a note is
usually sent, welcoming him to the family circle. For we are all like
one large family circle--with common aims, common interests and a common
goal--namely, to spread far and wide the gospel of home teaching, to do
our best in order to help others similarly placed, and to prove
ourselves worthy of the help so generously given by the State Library.
Another potent factor in the work of re-education is the Matilda Ziegler
Magazine, a periodical in raised type published since 1907, through the
generosity of Mrs. Matilda Ziegler, head of the Royal Baking Powder
Company of New York. This magazine is printed in New York City, and sent
to the homes of more than twelve thousand persons in the United States
and Canada. It is like any other magazine, with current events, timely
articles, short stories, poetry, a woman's page, and a page of humor. In
addition to this, every month there is an article telling of the success
of some blind person, the account written by the man or woman in the
form of a letter to the editor. And the manager, Mr. Walter G. Holmes,
is a man with a heart of gold; he has his finger on the pulse of the
blind of the country, and he believes in them, loves them, and brings
out the best that is in them. Every number contains a map of some of the
warring countries, and so the readers are kept in touch with all the
vital issues of the day. Many a man is induced to learn to read raised
type just to read this magazine. And so Mrs. Ziegler's philanthropy can
not be too highly commended, and her name and that of Mr. Holmes are
enshrined in the hearts of the blind. Her service to them is
incalculable.
The government is making extensive preparation for the re-education of
our blinded soldiers, both in the hospitals of France and the hospital
school at Baltimore. The grounds and some of the buildings of this
school were given to the government by Mrs. T. Harrison Garrett of
Baltimore, and no expense is being spared in providing every care and
facility for the training and comfort of the blind soldiers who are to
be rehabilitated and returned, not to the battlefields of France, but to
the battle ground of life. The government plans to begin the
re-education in the base hospitals, to continue it at the ports of
embarkation, and complete it in the hospital school at Baltimore. The
training in this school is to be patterned after that of St. Dunstan's
in London, where the work of re-education, under the direction of Sir
Arthur Pearson, himself a blind man, is meeting with the greatest
success. The Red Cross Institute for the Blind is on the same grounds as
the Hospital School, and is supplementing the work of the government in
a most able manner. Typewriting, dictaphone, switchboard operating,
telegraphy, osteopathy, massage, and salesmanship are to be taught to
those who are fitted for these branches; and trades and occupations,
including piano tuning, winding coils for armatures used in electric
motors, joinery, mat and mattress making, broom and basket making, rug
weaving, and shoe cobbling are to be taught to those who are not fitted
for the professions. The government will send over to France at least
one blind teacher for each base hospital, for his inspirational value to
the men during the first trying months of the readjustment period. Blind
teachers will be employed in this country, too, and the government is
already looking about for those best qualified for such positions. All
blind soldiers will be given an opportunity to learn to read and write
the raised system, and provision is being made for an enlarged
circulation of books, and for newer publications to be embossed in the
universal Braille system. In this work, the volunteers who learn to
write Braille can materially assist, by copying short stories, timely
articles, and nonsense verse to be distributed among the blind of their
communities, and for the pleasure of the returned soldiers.
When the men have been a sufficient time in the hospital school, they
are to be returned to their own cities and towns, and the government,
through its agent empowered to find employment for handicapped soldiers,
will endeavor to secure work for them in existing industrial
institutions and plants in the various states. It is also planned to
place capable blind men in shops with the seeing, whenever possible. I
say whenever possible, for it will take time and much effort to persuade
employers to include blind men among their employees. But the day is not
far distant when the public will see the wisdom of providing work for
its handicapped men and women, and condemn those who fail to co-operate
with the government in securing positions for those qualified to fill
them. The government is generous in its appropriation of funds to carry
on this re-education, but it does not include the civilian blind in this
program. The blind adult in civil life must be employed or cared for by
the civilian population, and this brings me to the discussion of the
attitude of the public toward the blind since three-fourths of the blind
of America could be gainfully employed right now, if the public would
only believe in them, would only give them an opportunity to prove their
ability. With his remaining faculties keenly alert, with a courage and
fortitude born of many trials, the blind adult is prepared to face life
squarely, undaunted and unafraid, asking only to take his place on the
firing line, to march shoulder to shoulder with his seeing brother, and
to do a man's work in the world.
THE ATTITUDE OF THE PUBLIC TOWARD THE BLIND.
In discussing this subject I realize I have a most difficult and
delicate task before me--a task which only a blind person can adequately
perform. I approach it with no misgiving, with no unkind feeling, for,
as I have previously stated, I believe the public needs, not so much to
be instructed, as to be reminded, and I believe it will be glad to have
some of its mistaken ideas corrected, and thus bring about a better
understanding between the two classes.
In the first place, I wish to mention some popular fallacies concerning
the blind. Chief among these is the idea that all blind people are so
much happier than sighted people. This belief seems very general, and
comes, I suppose, as a result of the feeling of the average human being
that, if deprived of eyesight, he could never be induced to laugh again.
The blind adult soon realizes that "humor is a shock absorber," and that
"mirth is the soul's best medicine." When my pupils fail to recognize
the efficacy of humor, I establish a rule that they must laugh at least
once during each lesson, and very soon they agree with Charles Lamb that
"a laugh is worth a hundred groans in any market." One of my foreign
pupils said to me when I spoke of his cheerful attitude, "Madam, I laugh
that I may not weep." And this is the key to much of the cheerfulness of
the blind, whose philosophy is not often understood by their sighted
friends. There is nothing really remarkable about making the best of a
trying situation, unless it is the small percentage of persons who do
so. People feel so sorry for the blind that they are often unable to
address them at all, or, when they do speak, convey a whole world of
well-meant but misdirected sympathy in a few ill-chosen words. This
misdirected sympathy is one of the hardest things the blind adult has to
bear, and often when I urge a man to go out among his friends as he did
when he could see, he answers, "I can't do it just yet. I can't bear the
pitying tone. It would make me lose my grip, and I must not let go." And
sometimes I go to his friends and explain the situation, and persuade
them to call on their friend, take him out with them, talk to him of the
ordinary, commonplace happenings, keeping their sympathy well disguised,
or, rather, showing a comprehending sympathy, a sympathy that recognizes
a brave man's effort to accept his fate unwhimperingly.
Another popular belief is that the blind are naturally very religious.
Unfortunately, this belief seems to be shared by those who selected many
of the books to be printed in raised types, since about one-half of the
books selected are of a religious character. The blind are naturally
introspective, and their power of concentration is greater than that of
the average person, but I have not found them to be unusually religious.
I do not think that blindness increases or decreases the religious
tendency.
A third fallacy is that the blind can tell colors by feeling. This is
absolutely impossible. I have heard of men who could tell the difference
of color in horses, but, upon questioning them closely, I found that the
texture of the hair varied in light and dark colored animals. Of course,
there is an odor about some colored dyes, such as black and indigo blue.
Some of the blind are themselves responsible for fostering this belief,
but they do it to test the credulity of the public, and they do not know
the real harm they are doing to the cause.
It is a common belief, too, that all blind people like music, and are
especially gifted in this art. I do not believe that the percentage of
really musical blind people is greater than that of persons who see.
Sometimes a blind man or woman will study music either as a pastime, or
in the hope of making a living, but the lack of eyesight does not
increase or diminish one's musical ability.