by Kevin Lofton
Clint, my five-year-old son, played in a T-ball league this past summer. As I sit at my desk and write this article, I think back to those hot summer evenings. I can still hear the sounds of parents encouraging their children as they ran out on the field trying to learn the basic fundamentals of America’s favorite pastime. I hear my wife saying, “Clint caught the ball” or “Clint’s taking his turn at bat,” or “Clint just struck out.” That was pretty much the norm for a weekday afternoon at T-ball practice.
I remember on one of those typical days at T-ball practice one of Clint’s teammates struck up a conversation with me that really made me stop and think. This little girl came and sat beside me on the wooden bleachers. I didn’t realize she was there at first, but then she spoke up and said, “Excuse me, sir, but why do you carry that stick everywhere you go?” I explained to the child that I was blind and used the white cane to tell what was around me and keep me from bumping into things and hurting myself. Then she asked, “What happened to your eyes — why don’t they work?” I explained that something happened to my eyes when I was born and the doctor couldn’t fix them. That satisfied her for a little while but then she asked, “Are you sick? What's wrong with you?”
I remember thinking, “Good grief! Why doesn’t she go away and bug somebody else?” After taking a deep breath, I realized I had a chance to do some good educating and advocacy with this inquisitive little girl. I told her that I felt fine. I also told her that just because someone is blind or walks with a crutch or uses a wheelchair doesn’t mean they are sick. I further explained that it would be a pretty dull world if everyone were the same so God decided to make everyone different. I told her she shouldn’t ever be afraid or ashamed to talk or play with someone with a disability. I said, “I’m just like everybody else, except I just can’t see.”
I think that is the attitude we should always convey. There’s nothing wrong with having a disability. I don’t want to imply that being blind or having any other disability is a picnic. We all know that it’s not. I think we need to change the societal attitude that creates such an antiseptic atmosphere around people with disabilities.
I guess my final thought would be that if you have a chance to educate someone, whether it be an adult or a child, take it! I would like to think that little girl I talked with at the baseball field will carry the memory of our conversation throughout her childhood years and maybe into adulthood. I hope that maybe, if she has the chance, she will pass on the same education I gave to her.