Better

Tonight's Saturday Night Live bit about David Paterson was a considerable improvement. I actually laughed, which was not the case last time... but, again, whether or not it's funny is subjective and not the point. To put it simply, this one didn't focus on his blindness. And as the governor himself would probably admit, there's plenty else to lampoon.

It's probably unfair to say that he's "not a good governor," considering the circumstances he's inherited, but it's just political wisecracking. For the record, other than making a circus of the senate appointment, he seems to be doing pretty well. And, of course, they keep referring to his having done cocaine once upon a time... just like the current and former presidents.

But, really, the only part that still bothers me is the bit about being disoriented and lost behind the desk. It's just not him. And I don't think people know that. But I guess the only way that's going to change is if the governor, or someone like him, changes the image with a more memorable one.

I have to admit, it was a little surreal to see him take out a pair of binoculars and pretend to read something. I don't do that with binoculars, but I use a monocular (you can guess what it looks like) to do the same thing for spot reading. It's awkward, difficult to do, and just generally an inefficient way to read stuff. I never thought it would end up as a gag on SNL.

Live and learn, right?

Look, Honestly

I was planning to post about race, but then I heard this segment on one of my favorite podcasts, On the Media. Suddenly, my world has changed.

From the interview:

ROOKE GLADSTONE: The character who plays you in the show, Cal Leightman, says that liars are more likely to look at you while they're telling the lie because they want to see if you’re buying it.

DR. PAUL EKMAN: Well, it’s more than that. They also believe this false idea that if you look away, it means you’re lying, so they don't want to be caught, so they look at you more than anybody else ever looks at you. [LAUGHS] And so, in fact, maintaining unbroken eye contact very often suggests that you’re dealing with a liar.

The myth of the honest person who looks you in the eye when he tells the truth is... well, just that. A myth. The fact is, since that myth is out there, liars often work harder to look you in the eye. That's been my experience too, in having to figure out whether people are lying or not. I'm often wrong at the time, but in hindsight, many of the people who lie to me have done so with unblinking focus.

If you think about it, what would prevent a liar from looking straight at you in the first place? Shame? Liars have significantly less shame than people who value truth and facts. I won't comment on the previous administration. No, the only people who have actual barriers against eye contact are people like me.

I can't say for sure, but it's a pretty good guess that in job interviews of the past, when I haven't revealed my vision issue -- nowadays I always do --potential employers would think of me as shifty-eyed and probably dishonest. I hope some of these people get a wind of the new Fox show that Dr. Ekman is advising. In the meantime, since I do have employment as a teacher, I get to meet hundreds of kids a year and subtly erode the myth of eye contact and honesty. I can live with that.

Now I have a couple more days to think about that race thing.

An Open Letter To Governor Paterson

Dear Governor Paterson,

As I'm sure you know, Hillary Clinton has now officially joined the Obama administration. Due to overwhelmign approval by the senate, she is now the Secretary of State. This will make it rather difficult for her to continue her duties as the junior senator from the state of New York.

You have hinted, during this long and laborious process, that you will name Senator Clinton's successor soon after her confirmation. The rumor mills have given Caroline Kennedy the best odds, and I am aware that you have interviewed her along with the rest of the potential senators.

As one partially blind person to another, I have a simple request for you:

DON'T.

You have been a great spokesman for those of us who, despite our disabilities, possess skills and qualifications for jobs. We deserve employment, not because we deserve special treatment, but because society should not waste our talents.

There are many great potential senators in this state, all of whom have extensive legislative experience. Do for the senate slot what you would want others to do for you or for me: pick the candidate with the best qualifications, regardless of gender, race, orientation, disability, or family name.

Thank you for your efforts to keep this state solvent in tough fiscal times.

Sincerely,
Me

P.S. As I wrote this letter, I found out that Ms. Kennedy withdrew her name from contention last night, making my plea irrelevant and moot. I don't mind.

I Have a Job

Governor Paterson often calls attention to the staggeringly high unemployment rate among the legally blind: nearly 70%, by some accounts. But, as a friend recently reminded me, we are not statistics.

I got a call this afternoon confirming that I have been hired for a job.

It's not full-time work, but as a teaching artist, my goal is to cobble together enough part-time work to support myself as I write plays and participate in theater. Sometimes, I get paid to do all three.

Most organizations that hire teaching artists keep a roster of them. I already belong to one such roster. Getting onto this one involved a highly competitive interview process, two separate stages of training, a third stage of training (if you make the cut-off), and a trial teaching unit, where they send you into the schools. This process started when I interviewed way back in the spring.. It ended today.

This still means that I have to spend a good amount of time looking for work, but I'm guaranteed a certain amount of employment now, which certainly takes off some pressure. Interviewing for jobs is hard enough, even if you don't have to deal with the whole, "I can't make eye contact, but please hire me anyway" thing.

I think I can actually relax this weekend.

Ah, Memories

Today, I went to meet up with an old friend who is starting to have similar eye issues to mine. Luckily, it's happening much later in life for him, and his sight is A-OK in one eye, so he can still drive.

The odd part was walking into the doctor's office. It was a big retinal specialist's place; I had heard of it, but I hadn't ever gone there, even when I was making the rounds as an undiagnosed kid. My friend was still being treated, so I took a seat in the waiting room.

Ophthalmologist's offices are strange places. The patients all speak a little more loudly than you would expect, and no one asks them to fill out forms with tiny print. No one expects them to be able to read them; if they could, they wouldn't be there in the first place.

This was one case where I didn't need to identify myself as not-not-blind. I told them what I was there for, and they casually mentioned a second waiting room where I could look. I looked around for a moment, flipped on my iPod, and tuned out.

When I was ten years old, I spent a lot of time in places like this. I remember the lights being brighter. Other than that, I have no recollection of lots of patients walking around, not sure exactly where they're going, and lots of doctors who know exactly where they're going. I don't know what my state of mind was, but I don't think I was aware of anyone else have vision problems.

I do remember long office visits, hours at a time, going from specialist to specialist and machine to machine. At first, when they said, "Open wide," I opened my mouth. After a while, I got used to it, but my dentist was confused when I opened my eyes at his command. Once you've been to enough people in lab coats with bright lights, the habit does set in.

I had the half-thought of stopping one of the doctors on his way out and asking if they've come up with a cure for me yet. But I think I'll save that for the guy who predicted a cure "in five years." If my math is correct, that would have made it 1996. Yup.

Menus

Why do people spend so much time reading menus?

The rational part of your brain runs out of juice after seven or eight choices, and most menus have twenty or thirty at least. Why not just ask the waiter what's good, make sure you're not allergic, and order?

When I go out to eat alone (which, yes, is pretty rare), sometimes I take out a little telescope ("monocular") and look through the menu. But sometimes, I just like to wing it, and the food I get is inevitably delicious. And I haven't spent all that time reading lists of ingredients, or trying to brush up on my Italian.

I think what I'm trying to say is that if none of us could read menus, we'd all have a lot more time on our hands, and we'd eat better. Plus, since specials tend to be more expensive, restaurants would make more money.

More productivity? Better diet? More commerce? Sounds like the solution to the economy to me. Mr. President-Elect, it's time to ban menus.

iPhone = Guide Dog?

Maybe. Someday. I don't need a guide dog, but sometimes I wish I had one anyway. Dogs are awesome.

Anyway, my friend Amy drew my attention to a great New York Times article about T. V. Raman. I had never heard of Mr. Raman (as the Times so politely refers to him), but I've heard of most of his innovations in accessibility. I had no idea the same person was responsible for all of them.

For the Blind, Technology Does What a Guide Dog Can't

I'm particularly grateful for my computer's ability to read PDF files aloud. It comes in handy all the time.

As for the iPhone that can tell you which direction to walk in, it's probably not that useful to me; I don't have any problems getting around. I do like that my new iPod talks to me. It tells me what songs it has, what's playing, and what menu is up on the screen. It's awesome. I named it Hal.

DMV Breaks Speed Limit

Sometimes, people who know that I'm legally blind ask if I can drive. This isn't as crazy a question as you might think: drivers make extensive use of their peripheral vision, and mine is well above average. Unfortunately, you use the middle part to see stuff like signs, curves in the road, small children, and large animals. No one should let me drive.

I do have the equivalent of a driver's license: the New York State Non-driving ID Card. Lots of fully sighted people have this. New York City is full of people who have never learned to drive because they never needed to. I would have liked to, but it doesn't affect my life while I live here.

Last month, I got a notice that my ID was about to expire in February. I finally got around to it today. I filled out the form at home, grabbed my social security card (the flimsiest piece of Federal ID in the world), and headed down to the DMV "License Xpress" on 34th Street. I expected a long wait.

The great thing about the Xpress branch is that it's small and open. They only take care of renewals and changes, so they only need a few windows and stations to take care of everyone. They're also surprisingly friendly. They call you "dear, honey, buddy, my friend," and just about anything else you can think of within the limits of polite society. What's more, they're efficient.

I told the clerk at the ticket counter that I was legally blind, and she didn't flinch. She just handed me a ticket, told me what number it was -- the print was actually large enough for me to read easily -- and told me what number they were calling just then. A clear, audible electronic voice announced each number. Within ten minutes, my number was called, and after a great conversation about rent prices in NY and PA, I was on my way with a temporary ID and the promise of a new one in two weeks. Done.

I don't know how many places there are in the world where a partially blind person can walk into and out of a government agency in fifteen minutes, having secured a state identification card and renewed faith in humanity. All I can say is, thank goodness for the New York State Department of Motor Vehicles.

Yes, I did write that.

A Toast

Several years ago, at a party , I ended up in a small group near the table of booze. We had each just poured some wine, and a striking woman offered a brief toast. We all clinked our glasses. After the toast, the striking woman chided me for not making eye contact with her. She recited a superstition about not making eye contact during a toast. I won't repeat it here, but I will say that it is not true. I checked.

Whether or not you are physically capable of making eye contact, and whether or not you realize that I'm posting this well after New Year's Eve, let's toast to a great New Year, and let's hope for the best from a new president and a sort-of-new congress. I believe the original title of Stephen King's The Shawshank Redemption was "Hope Springs Eternal," so may we all (SPOILER ALERT) slowly chip our way out of prison, crawl out through three football fields worth of sewer, and revel shirtless in the rain.

Happy 2009, and thanks for reading.