traveling up and down the blind highway

Today, take time at 11 am pausing to remember those men and women that served their country in the military. Those that returned home and the many that did not.The history of this day is wrapped up in my families history. At the signing of peace terms the allies and Germany stopped hostilities at the 11 hour, on the 11th day of 1918. On that same morning, My Mother, was born at home to Alfred and Anna Heatly . One of our relatives collected the front pages of the Detroit Times, Free Press and the Detroit News. Those Headlines of the ending of the War to end all wars, hung in our families den along with a pastel drawing of my mother in her early twenties.
Though military conflicts continued to erupt in the world, WWII , Korean war, the Vietnam conflict and the war in Afghanistan . War and fighting in Iran proved the war didn’t end all wars, we continue to pray and hope on the 11th of November that military conflicts will be resolved.
On this day the family would visit the gravesites of love ones that served their country.
In 1954, the Armistice Day to Veteran’s Day to honor all men and women that served in all branches of the military. My mother worked the line at Willow run to make parts for bombers. She traveled to Florida then California following Dad’s enlistment in the Marines. There she worked as a secretary for General Henry Smith in the 4th division, stationed at Fort Pendleton In 1943, when dad was to ship out, a very pregnant Rita traveled back to Northville to await the birth of her first born, Bruce Robert Turnbull.
Bruce returned home to work with his father in the Electric shop, while their family grew to four boys and one girl.
Mom balanced raising a family while keeping the books for the store. After the death of my grandfather Clifford, dad sold the electric shop. My mother found a job at the Northville township offices. Later she worked in the High School counseling office as their secretary.
Our family teased mom about her frugal ways with statements such as,
“If Mom had a nickel, she would squeezing it to stretch to a dime.”
She saved enough of her salary to pay for trips to Brazil, Yugoslavia, England,Spain and Hawaii with the Knights of Columbus. She made many friends that she corresponded with until her death.

Mom died in 2002 at the age of 84 years. I still hear comments from friends and family that she was a super mom, a quiet woman of faith. We share stories about her in our family gatherings.
**. Poem
Quiet Light
her birth ended a war
Her death ending a century.
In between, she married, raised a family.
Quiet in faith , service to others,
Her example still shines.
carolfarn@aol.com copyright 11/11/24

My Mom was a poll worker when I was growing up. She was a secretary for the township and enjoyed working with numbers. My dad co owned a business in our town, “The Northville Electric Shop” with my grandfather. So on election Tuesday, we kids were expected to watch each other.
Early in the morning, mom would be at the polling site by 6:15 to set up the register of voters and to tabulate the voting machines. The machines were on a wall of switches. You would flip each selection one by one. You could check your selections and change one or more of the selections before you finalized your vote. With the opening of the curtain, the switches returned to their original positions and your votes produced a paper ballot.
Often, you would see two pairs of legs behind the curtain. one small and one large.
“Can I pull one Mommy?”
“No Honey, but I will let you open the curtain when we are done.”
Occasionally, the curtain would not close properly. Two poll workers would have to assist the voter, one from each party. My mother came from a long line of Democrats in our largely Republican town. My Dad’s family voted Republican. Dad would tease Mom by saying,
“Our votes cancel each other out.”
Mom insisted that she was an Independent.
“I vote for the best candidate,” she would reply.
“But Rita, most of your choices are Democrats.”
I am sure they discussed the pro and cons of different candidates but they never argued in front of us kids. Voting was secret and was taken seriously.
In the 60’s, mom would be at the polls into the late evening checking, tabulating and counting each vote. We would not see her until the next morning. She was proud to be a part of the election process.
Voting machines have changed. The blind, deaf and physically challenged can vote independently and in private. Ear phones, auditory reading of the ballet and keys to mark the ballot can be done by computer. The children watch as their parent or older sibling vote. One by one, the voters bring their sleeved ballot to be processed by machine. The system ensures a private and secure voting experience.
This year, there are more choices. absentee ballets, early voting and of course, voting on the first Tuesday in November. Wear your I voted sticker proudly. Casting your ballot is your right and privilege.

&&&

***. poem
Ballot
busy. workers checking IDs
all voters wait in line
long lines are a tradition
learning from elders, children watch
one ballot people mark their choices
time will show the results
carolaspot@aol.com
November 4th 2024 copyrighted

Fellow poet and artist, Lynda Lambert, advises me to drop seeds of our art and poetry exchange into each interaction. I followed her advise while I was attending the APH Insights Art Show earlier this month. I did not expect such quick growth.
I planned to donate my art to a local Michigan organization that encouraged blind artists of all ages. What I didn’t expect was to talk to a Michigan group that was starting a art program for blind children and their families.
” I love your owl family tableau.” one teacher gushed.
Another teacher sighed,”But your piece is not for sale.”
A third teacher pointed out,”She is a local Michigan artist.”
I was nudged by God sharply,
“What are you waiting for? You wanted to find a good home for your art that would encourage others to create.”
I smiled, “I was looking for an organization to donate this to, Would you like it?”
Excitedly, they raced to get their director Brenda Mahoney ,Director of Michigan outreach , art for the blind. We talked and the group from camp Tuhsmeheta was excited to get the art piece for their newly opening nature center.
Last week, Ms. Mahoney called to apologized for not taking the art home with her. The art show closed on Friday and Brenda didn’t have time to pick it up.
“Could you come to the ribbon cutting ceremony and meet the staff?”
I looked at John, he nodded a yes.
“We will be there.”
The camp was thirty minutes away in Greenville. We arrived at three and took a tour of the nature center and classroom. There were many animal pelts and parts to examine tactilely. Brenda talked about expanding their art into workshops to encourage blind artists. I gave an interview and was asked if I would be interested in giving workshops on producing art from items found in nature. I was thrilled to be asked and I am interested in promoting art. I talked about the year long art and poetry exchange with my friend Lynda. Ms. Mahoney wanted to be kept informed of the progress and completion of the project.
You never know the path that the Lord will lead you to. As my brother notes ,
Carol, “The Lord is in charge, go with the flow.”

**. poem
The Call
I had no clue
what I would do
no plan
placed in God’s hands
taking the offering
me in tow, He ran
carolaspot@aol.com copyrighted 10/28/24

This week, I will turn 70. Taking a cue from several friends and family, I started six months ago to say I was seventy. In biblical scripture, the number 70 is seen as perfection or completion. The seventh birthday is considered a milestone in many cultures. It is a time to reflect on life’s. achievements and to look forward to new areas of growth.
Though my body is slowing as are my thoughts, I find I am growing spiritually. There is time to medicate and reflect on empathy for others in my virtual circle of friends.
Being still and listening to spiritual direction from my creator and others put in my daily interactions keeps me involved in the world.
Writing e-mails, phoning friends and being present in virtual and in person meetings is my way to contribute to other’s days.
Recently, John and I were grocery shopping. We walk with a cart and holding hands. We are a slow wide obstruction. John notes that many people pull their carts and children aside to allow us to pass by. A few may hurry ahead to get in line first. I remember we are retired and don’t have a time constraint. When the time for the peace greeting is given in church. I always hug my husband then extend my hand to others that I can’t see. If no one takes my hand, the peace returns to me. Many people approach us with my extended offered hand. to us to receive peace.
Finally, today is National Babble Day. During the celebration of the Mass, vocalizations, cries and babbles of the babies joyous sounds mingle with adult prayers to be an offering of the congregation to rise to the heavens. Next time you hear a baby’s cry, or a toddler’s questions, talking in a loud volume, smile and recall we all have hurdles to learn to communicate.
***. Poem
Babble
babbling brook mixed with bird songs
sidewalk murmurings pass by.
nature’s coos and warbles
But the sweetest sounds are
Babies joyful cries.
carolaspot@aol.com copyrighted 10/21/2024

Ruth dearly wanted to meet and touch one of the many guide dogs at the American Printing House Conference. I went through the list of rules when seeing a guide dog. Talk to the owner, not the dog. Don’t pet or interact with the dog. As long as the harness is worn, the dog is on duty. Ask the owner if if you can be introduce to his or her dog. Well, God was listening to her. At our table for the awards ceremony, a young woman sat next to Ruth with her Golden Retriever.
” Are these seats taken?” she asked.
Ruth quickly replied, “No, please join us.”
As she sat down, her dog lay under the table leaning against Ruth’s leg. When the young woman was called to accept her award, she turned to Ruth saying,
“Can you hold my dog’s leash while I go on stage?”
“I would love to!”
Her dog wasn’t happy that his Mistress was leaving him behind. He kept wiggling from under to follow his owner, even with only his eyes. He calmed down when she soon returned to her.
There were several people signing to deaf/blind individuals. Ruth watched as they placed the signing hands on the forearm to the wrist to show location to show conversations. There were several interpreters to communicate with staff and attendees. Some states pay for this service for deaf/ blind individuals.
Friday, eight of the artists signed up to visit a glass blowing studio to experience making art with molten glass. We went down to the work floor one at a time. Donning safety goggles and gloves we were ready to manipulate the hot ball of glass. The glass ball was the size of a large fist. The glass was put on in several layers before ready. The end of the tube glowed orange with the molten glass. With heavy stainless steel tongs, we were directed to pinch then pull, twist and push to mix the colors that had been added to the glass. I had selected the colors of red, pink and white.I imagined a Christmas hard candy as I worked. The piece was heated in the furnace between manipulations. It was like working taffy. It got harder to work as it cooled. Finally the instructor was satisfied. Ruth and I left the work floor and away from the heat of the furnaces and the constant roar of the cooling fans.
After lunch, we took a stroll to the Welcome center. I remember it was a good place to shop for souvenirs. What I didn’t expect was a free bourbon sampling. I declined but Ruth sampled two different bourbons.
Walking back to the hotel, we decided to go the gym before our cruise and dinner on the Belle of Louisville steam powered paddle boat. We didn’t know what to expect so we dressed casually.
A bus took the group to the docks a half hour away. Climbing twenty steps I felt the smooth wood of many hands that had used railings. The ceilings were high and gilded with gold . Tables were set up on the middle deck. A buffet dinner of vegetables, salad, rolls and butter were offered with beef tips on rice and fried chicken. Dessert was a frosted yellow cake or apple pie.
After the meal, we wandered to the upper deck to watch the setting sun. The paddles reversed and performed a slow turn to return to take us back to our busses
Early on Saturday, we ordered a lift to return to the airport. We leave with many memories of this first mother/daughter excursion.
&&&**. poem
Painting the town
Arm in arm, we strolled the town
Wined, dined, met new friends.
impressed by art, the saga began.
We toast to each other
sailing on the paddle boat.
Taking a vow, to do this again.
carolaspot@aol.com copyright 10/14/24

My daughter Ruth and I have never taken a vacation just the two of us. When John couldn't travel, I asked Ruth is she would want to go. She was excited so we flew last week to Kentucky to attend and present my art in the American Printing House In Sights Art show.

Aaron, dropped us off at the airport on Wednesday morning. Our flights took us from Grand Rapids, to Atlanta, before arriving in Louisville. When we arrived the APH awards program had started so Ruth and I went down to have some hush puppies with a jalapeno dip and skillet fried corn bread with a drink. The art show didn’t open until the next day at the Marriott in downtown Louisville KY. Our rooms were keyed with a card and the guest rooms and public spaces had raised and braille to mark them. Other amenities were braille menus, and a staff that was eager to help with the many blind attendees.
The breakfasts and dinners were buffet style. The staff were prepared to help with selection and carry food plates to tables. After lunch, we wandered to see the art. Ruth described the art. Many pieces were large but a few miniatures of pictures were well done. The InSights program chair, Meg Overland, called out, “touch any art you want, this a touch friendly exhibit.”
Sculptures, textured paintings, digital and crafts from kindergarten to adults were side by side. All could be explored tactually and with vision. Many of the pieces were marked as sold. I planned on donating my piece so I had no price on my art. Before the time set to meet the artists, we made use of the gym. After wards ,we showered and dressed for the event. I talked for over an hour about the process to make my owl tree . at one point, I was speaking to over. a dozen people. A highlight for Ruth was to watch as a deaf/blind and and a blind individual communicate with an interpreter , as they asked me questions of the art and the process. I met the art teacher that bought my piece of “guide dogs at rest”, from last years show, as an example of touchable art.
I said,
“Can I tell you a secret about that piece?”
“Sure.” he replied.
“I had a stroke before I finished the last dog. I ended up with a two headed dog.”
He asked, “What did you do… make another”?
“No time, I replied,” I cut the one head off and knitted and felted the wound closed
I bet he looks for the one dog to see if he can find it when he returns to Georgia.
Another group was gushing about the piece and sorry they didn’t see a sale tag. I replied,
” I am donating it, would you like it?”
She was the State Director for Special Education in Michigan. She was thrilled and we talked about promoting art for the blind in Michigan.
I talked about my ongoing exchange with poetry and art on a postcard with fellow artist Lynda Lambert. She also had a piece at the show. There was excitement and interest in the possible book that will come from this exchange.

carolaspot@aol.com copyright 10/7/24

My daughter Ruth and I plan to fly to Louisville Early on Wednesday to attend the In Sights Art show as part of APH annual conference. Ruth was excited, pointing out that she and I have never traveled with out John. I have mixed feelings. I was excited, but scared of the unknown and concerned that it would be hard on Ruth. We did a preflight this past weekend by attending a Turnbull family wedding celebration.
Ruth, my son in law Aaron Matthew and myself drove across the state to Northville for the gathering.
After parking , we walked to a restaurant. We found that we were a day late for that place That bar was the place for Friday’s activities. The restaurant Genitti’s was a few doors down the street.
Upon entering, my niece Megan and her husband Amitava were the first to greet us, Followed by my brother Brian, Ann, his wife and the two girls, Eliza and Evie. They wanted to say hi before going to the sitters.
In turn I was hugged by a succession of relatives . After the social hour, the couple reenacted their wedding vows for the guests. Mayor Brian officiated the final vows and blessing of the wedding.
We found our seats with an envelope with each guest’s name at their assigned place. We were paired with My sister in law Karen , her two sons, Steven and Doug and lady friend Crystal. Ruth remembered to place me so my left handed use of utensils wouldn’t jar my neighbor’s elbow. I enjoyed the five course dinner while listening to the noisy highs and lulls of joyful conversation around me. I would occasionally add a comment to the group but I was content to smile at this family of mine.
The dinner was topped with cannoli’s. There were ice ream treats from the Good Humor truck parked outside the door for departing guests.
Ruth took charge of directing where we would travel. She was careful to warn me of drops and curbs to and from the event. My confidence increased as she navigated us around obstacles and people. In turn, I playfully tapped around her legs as she was washing her hands in the ladies room.
I will leave on Wednesday but my worry about Ruth’s ability to keep us safe is put to rest. Louisville, here we come
!
**. poem
Traveling
Arm and arm, with suitcases checked
packs on our backs, walk the terminal track.
Shoeless, scanned, we’re good to board.
Mother, daughter, friends,
Smiling, through the door.
carolaspot@aol.com copyrighted 9/30/24

Most hearing individuals are exposed to the deaf community and sign language through friends or family members. I had a deaf cousin, David. He was older than myself. His Mother didn’t use sign language when communicating with him. She expected him to read her lips. this is about 70% accurate. There are many phonemes that look similar for the lip reader. They must quickly guess what word is being spoken and respond correctly.
My cousin had no family members that would sign. This may be due in part to the philosophy that the deaf should be trained in the oral method or not using signs to help with communication. I remember David frustrated and angry when he tried to talk with his cousins.
When in high school, One of my best friends had two deaf parents. Billy was not deaf but 3 of his four siblings were. Visiting their home, I was bombarded with sounds of a blaring tv, aTTY signal indicating a incoming phone message. The louder the sound, the possibility that they could hear it. I longed to help.
In college, I took a short course in American Sign Language. I was hooked. The use of finger spelling was a challenge. I was not a good speller. I love the movements and the concept basis of hand gestures and positioning the hands in a limited space. I took more courses at Madonna College and earned 16 hours of course work. Stopping short of an interpreter . I wanted to talk with my cousin and friends.
When I married and had a child, I took dance classes with a mother /daughter group. Hawaiian hand movements tell the story, similar to sign language. The feet and hips keep the rhythm of the drums. I easily learned the gestures and choreographed a dozen dances.
Sign language, Hawaiian gestures and nonverbal movements have universal understanding.
The deaf community has been separated by their language. They were expected to learn to accommodate the hearing not the reverse.
Learning and using signs in greetings will bridge the gap with the deaf community.
As we age, we can expect over10 % of the population to have a significant hearing loss. In the United States, 37 million adults will have a hearing loss. Maybe learning sign language is not such a bad idea for all of us.

)**. Poem
I read your lips.
Feel your breath.
I try to see your words.
I guess, and guess again.
Frustrated I slam the door
as I leave the room.
It is hard to be so different from my peers.
I am alone with dark thoughts.I want to understand.

carolaspot@aol.com September22, 2024 copyrighted

Fellow poet and artist Lynda Lambert and myself have been on a journey of growth and discovery. Since January, we have been writing poems and sending them on postcards decorated with a piece of art. We are now 3/4th of the way through the project. For my part, I have grown in the scope and variety of art. Producing art on such a small canvas has expanded my notions of the art process.
At first, I used braille on color paper. The braille was the poem. The dots were the art.
I tried finger paint, pastels, crayons, sharpies, felt markers and acrylic paint. I used layers of paint and cut outs of parts of pictures to make a pleasing design on the postcard. I have incorporated photos of flora and fauna from my yard to add variety. My art is abstract. I move the brush listening to music. The feelings of the moment is reflected in the finished product. I know when the art is complete by how it feels when dried.
Since I have no sight, I rely on my other senses to feel, smell and hear the brush strokes on the paper. Occasionally, I touch my lip with a brush to feel if there is paint on it. The final layer is clear acrylic watered down to give a coat of protection.
I have pushed the limits of the postal service to what is allowed in the mail stream. One of my cards had a cloth flower that was returned needing more postage. A small bead in the centered of the bloom made the card too thick. The card can not be thicker than a quarter inch. The card itself needs to be five by seven inches or smaller. This is so the cards can be sorted by machine. My poems started out with haiku or three line poems. The poems have lengthen using rhyming, tanka and free verse. All to fit on a postcard.
My first task of each day is to find a finished postcard with art. The art may or may not relate to the poem. To find inspiration for the poem of the day, I look to the weather, visitors to the water trough and bird feeder. I print two copies of the poem, one for the card and another for a hard copy for my file. The poem is send to Lynda as an e mail.
We journal daily events in the poems. The important and small events are captured. At the end of the year, we will each have close to three hundred and twenty postcards we have exchanged.
Next year, we will combine the art by month,
adding notes of our written interchanges will add insight into motivation and the process. Below are two examples of the art and poem on the reverse side.

carolaspot@aol.com copyright 9/16/24

Today we celebrate National Teddy Bear Day. The origins of the teddy bear made national headlines when Theadore Roosevelt refused to shoot a treed black bear while on a hunting trip in Louisiana . A cartoon from 1902’s Washington Post highlighted an interaction between the bear and President Roosevelt. An enterprising toy store put two stuffed bears in the window and labeled them Teddy’s bears with the President’s permission.The toy Teddy bears have been popular for over 120 years.
When My daughter was growing up she preferred stuffed animals instead of dolls. Her favorite was a pink bear from “Vitoria’s Secret.” She named him Joey, after the baby kangaroo character “Roo” in the “Winnie the Pooh” children’s stories by author, A A Milne. The stories and cartoons of the toys of Christopher Robin fascinated and captured the imagination of Ruth’s play.
Ruth took her teddy bear everywhere. Over the years, she collected more stuffed friends, Joey remained her favorite. Recently, I asked if she still had Joey? She brought out a well worn and loved bear. The paws pads and nose was shiny from rubbing of little fingers. The coat was faded to the light pink.
“He is too fragile to keep on the bed, I keep him stored safely .” Ruth loves to go to the store, “Build a Bear.” While Aaron was dating Ruth, They went to the store and made the perfect bear to seal their relationship. Some women love jewelry, but my daughter will take a bear as a loving gesture.
So enjoy this special day. Give the gift of a big bear hug to your love.
***. poem
Joey
Given with love for a baby.
Staying with her through her childhood and teens.
He was her favorite, for hugs and comfort.
To look at him now, he’s well worn
with love.
carolaspot@aol.com copyright 9/9/24