traveling up and down the blind highway

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

This summer, I have been blessed to witness a doe give birth to twins in the neighbor’s backyard. A small flock of turkeys chase each other in the clearing in the woods and skunks, raccoons wash their paws in the water trough. Soon, these sights will cease. Why? The start of hunting season is the answer. Small game, turkey and white tail deer. Hunting season’s vary but they run from September to to December 11th. People walking in wooded areas are encourage to wear bright colors such as orange or bright yellow. Deer are color blind so the bright orange is gray or tan to a deer’s vision.
Turkeys have ability to detect colors but their vision is a narrow field for the best sight. They rely on a sixth sense to identify dangerous shapes. They will retreat from a dangerous situation.
Raccoons, skunks and squirrels are not aggressive by nature but will bite a human if cornered or threaten. They would rather run away.
My brothers and my Dad would go up to the Upper Peninsula to Warners cabins for deer hunting in November. My Dad would recall the last time he and his father went hunting for deer. Grandpa Turnbull wanted to hunt one more time. Dad drove him to the blind, setting up with a seat, coffee and a blanket to stay warm while waiting for the deer to pass by.
“Dad, I will walk a circle and be back in a couple of hours.”
“I’ll be fine Bruce”
With Grandpa’s assurance, Dad started to walk through the woods. When he returned, Grandpa was sipping the last of his coffee. A buck was dressed and hanging in a nearby tree.
“Dad, how did you hang and dress the deer?”
“I had a little help.”
Grandpa did shoot a deer walking by. He couldn’t lift the deer carcass. Another hunter came out of the woods. He had been tracking an injured deer. The hunter agreed to share the deer with grandpa could keep the deer in the tree until my Dad showed up.
My Dad and brothers stayed hunting for a week. I only remember a rabbit dressed in our basement . I have no memories of any deer after Grandpa’s last deer.
My husband John tells a different story about hunting with his Dad and brothers. Dad and the three boys would hunt rabbits in early October. Each of the boys had shotguns. Dad would park on a rural road near state land and lead the boys in a large circle. They would come out within sight of the parked car. Ted, Gene and John would make animal sounds, hit the trees to rouse game scaring any animals to flee. John’s dad stopped carrying a gun, knowing that the boys would scare all the game for several miles. The three meals that the fathers cooked were spaghetti with Ragu sauce. Canned chili and pancakes After a long day in the woods, the boys would eat dinner and then fall asleep. The darkness with oil lamps for illumination encouraged early bedtime.
Going to deer hunting camp was a rite of passage for young boys. Stories of the multi point buck that got away got bigger and the rack grew larger with each telling.
I had my Mom to myself during hunting season. We would take the bus to Detroit to shop for the day and go out to lunch at Sanders sandwich shop.
With many of the hunted animals raging with testosterone, they were thinking of procreating not survival. There are fewer hunters in Michigan’s woods. Though the state land is free to use, the deer population has swelled to two million deer, forcing deer into urban areas. In our little wooded area, there is a doe with twins. We see them coming for seed and water daily.The increase in the number of deer has increased the number of deer/car accidents. Hunters are necessary to maintain a healthy deer population. In the next couple of months, be careful and watch for racing deer.
–*** poem
Deer run
white tail flags interest
two males fence with antlers
The winner gets the doe
If she accepts him.
a racing car puts an end to romance
carolaspot@aol.com September 2, 2024

Growing up in my small town of Northville, we had several opportunities to get ice cream treats delivered to our street. There were two dairies that delivered delights of chocolate covered ice cream on a stick along with milk, butter and heavy cream. The cream was floating on the top of each bottle of milk. My mother would skim the cream and use it in coffee. Twin Pines Dairy and Guernsey Dairy delivered to homes two to three times a week. They picked up the empties and left several gallons of whole milk in the metal rack. But in the summer, we were attuned to the music of the Good Humor truck as it slowly made it’s way through of the town. Exotic confections of chocolate chip cookie sandwiches, orange flavored candy covered bars and ice cream drumsticks with chocolate and nuts toppings. They were more expensive than we could afford for a family of seven. I would watch as others would select and gobble down the cold treats.
One sweltering summer day, I succumbed to temptation. While my mother was in the back yard taking a sun bath, I opened my mothers purse and helped myself to a bill. I was too young to look at the amount but I think it was a five dollar bill. Leaving the house by the front door, I made my way to the corner where the ice cream truck waited. I am sure the neighbors tattled to my mother even as I sat on the corner eating my stolen booty. I had change from the transaction, having no pockets, I dropped the coins inside my top. It had a elastic bottom so the coins wouldn’t fall out.
I went to the front door to put back the change, but the door was locked. Sneaking to the back yard, my mom appeared to be asleep on the lounge. I ran for the door with coins clinking in my blouse.
“Carol Ann Turnbull, come here!”
We all knew that when our complete name was used, we were in trouble. I turned to face the music and Mom. Standing beside the chair, I tried to keep quiet. In one quick movement, my mother grabbed the edge of my top. elastic was stretched causing coins to scatter on the grass.
“Where did you get the money?”
I knew it would be worse if I lied so I confessed.
“From your purse,”
“For what?”
“Ice cream”
I am sure I was punished but my moral dilemma came years later. As a Catholic, we make our first confession in the second grade. I poured over the Boston Catechism . To see if the taking of money was a Venial sin or a Mortal sin. The Boston guidelines stated that during confession if a person forgot to confess a venial sin, they could still be granted absolution. But a mortal sin must be confessed before forgiveness could be given. “Did I steal a 5 or a one dollar bill?” An amount under 5 dollars was a venial sin. “Did putting the change back decreased my sin?”
I tried to forget the incident but every time I went into the confessional, I imagined the sins piling up as sins of omission. Since each class went to confession weekly, The sins were piling up!
I couldn’t take the stress. At the end of one confession, I whispered,”I am sorry for these sins and especially those against the eight commandment.”Father listened and granted absolution . I was off the hook!
**. Poem
absolution
Kneeling in the confessional, I sweated
an old sin weighted on my conscience
taking a bill from my mother’s purse
I had told Mom and been punished
But telling Father?
I tried to find a loophole
amount of money?
I didn’t remember
Could I forget the sin, no way
Finally at the end of my recitation of current transgression
I whispered
“I am sorry for these sins and those of stealing.
Father unknowingly gave the blessing for absolution.
I was off the hook.
carolaspot@aol.com copyrighted 8/26/24

This morning my inner clock reset. This means I slept one to two more hours then normal. This is a documented phenomenon, that is common in blind individuals with little or no light perception. The eye’s perception of light and dark changes helps the brain to set our biorhythm for a 24 hour day. Studies show that a blind persons has a 25 hour day. This means that the individual must have a reset day and sleep in. Normally, this happens on a day I perceive darkness or a dark day, making it easier to sleep and reset my clock. Since retiring, this is part of my normal cycle. When I had to work or participate in a meeting, I had to go to bed early the evening before to receive the needed sleep.
On August 17, we celebrated left handed Day. I am part of this group. Ten percent of the population is left handed. In my family there were three out of seven family members that used their left as the dominant hand. we had set places for meals. My brother Mike and I sat on the same side of the table both being lefties. I always sat on the left corner of any table. So my elbow would not interfere with a person using their right hand. Later, I was seated with my younger brother, Brian who was a lefty like myself.
Mike was ambidextrous . He was able to use both his hands equally well. He played baseball, catching the ball with his right hand and threw the ball with his left. He could draw and write with either hand.
Brian and I were true left handed users. We did all tasks with our dominant left hands.
Tools such a scissors, pencil sharpeners, and table saws are made for the use of right handers. Knitting and crochet patterns are for the same group. Left hander learn to modify, adapt to a right handed world.
Some famous people that are lefties include Barack Obama, Jimmy Carter, Gerald Ford, Ronald Regan, George W. Bush, Whoopi Goldberg, Oprah Winfrey, Albert Einstein, Leonardo da Vinci, Sir Isaac Newton ,Aristotle and blind activist Helen Keller.
A large percentage of people in the creative arts are left handed. Some experts speculate that is do in part to learning to think outside the box. Personally, I believe lefties work daily to find solutions to tasks in a right handed world.
**. Poem
Left To Right
face to face
left to right
left is wrong
right has might
creative solutions
bridges far left and right
carolaspot@aol.com 8/19/24 copyrighted