Community generally sensitive to special needs

No one seems to know for sure how many Brockport residents are blind. The best estimate available from the Rochester Association for the Blind is half a dozen. Local estimates are a bit higher. For this article, five people were interviewed.

Common among those five was the sentiment of not wanting sympathy. All five are fiercely independent, making their way about town and through life on their own. Some were shy about being interviewed because they neither wanted to attract attention to themselves nor be seen as objects of pity.

"I really don't think I'm anything special," says Darla Klein, a 30-something part-time graduate student who makes her way around town -- from Wegmans to the village -- including streets leading to the SUNY campus.

It was Darla's nimble maneuvering over snow banks and around puddles with a white cane that first attracted the attention of this reporter. Rain or shine, snow or ice, Darla gets to where she wants to go.

"My mother expected the same thing out of me that she would have expected out of a sighted daughter. I do everything anybody else does - except drive."

Darla was born visually impaired, possibly the result of morning sickness medicine her mother took during pregnancy. She has some light perception and can read highly magnified type, but she was declared legally blind at birth.

She grew up in Bethany, New York with a brother who is also visually impaired, probably for the same reason. Darla's vision was the worst of the two. She attended the New York State School for the Blind in Batavia, starting with kindergarten. She graduated from the 12th grade, having studied all the major academic subjects, but she also received instruction in special skills, mobility, cooking, sewing and cleaning.

Darla moved to Brockport because of the superior transportation system. She says, "It's a lot easier to get around in Monroe County." Darla currently lives in Bergen. "It's a much better transportation system. It's much better getting from Bergen to Brockport than from Bergen to Batavia."

"I learn the route eventually. Generally the same people ride the bus every day. I get to know their voices and where they get off. I don't ask fellow passengers to let me know, I just observe. A woman I know gets off two stops before me, so I know it's time to get my stuff together. I get to know the bus drivers and they get to know me. Some drivers are good. They talk to me. I rely on me because that's pretty much what I've got -- is me."

Getting around town with her aluminum cane has become routine. The white cane has a big tip on the end to keep it from getting caught in cracks along the sidewalk. Darla says, "If I'm thinking about what I'm supposed to be doing, I step forward with my left foot while I move the cane to the right so that I know when I make the next step with my right foot if there's going to be an obstacle."

"One thing the cane does not protect me from is low hanging tree branches. There are some people in Brockport that I would like to cheerfully go up to and say, 'Excuse me, would you mind trimming your trees?' "

"Winters for me is like going through a jungle for you guys," Darla jokes. "Sometimes people who plow their driveways don't clear the sidewalks. I get a little upset with people who park their cars in the driveway on the sidewalk and I end up having to walk out on the street."

None of the obstacles to her mobility or the other potential dangers of being sightless out on the streets keep Darla down. "You've got one or two choices in life," she says. "You take what life hands you and you go and do the best you can with it or you sit around and feel sorry for yourself. And there are people, visually impaired but able bodied, that that's what they want to do with life; they want to sit and feel sorry for themselves."

"I'm like, okay. I don't see properly but look at all the money I save on light bulbs. And I'll never have a car break down on me, or have to deal with car insurance and the motor vehicle department."

Mary Velten is also legally blind -- as a consequence of her premature birth and the then unknown ill-effects of administering oxygen to premature infants.

Mary grew up in Churchville, was placed in special education classes there, soley because of her visual handicap. She endured numerous operations on her eyes, culminating in a final procedure to repair a detached retina when she was seventeen.

Despite some top rate medical attention, including laser treatments at a major Boston hospital, Mary never recovered nor has she retained any but the most limited sight - which she describes as 'tunnel vision.'

But Mary is no 'stay-at-home' either. Plus, she has had three guide, or 'seeing-eye-dogs' which "help me get where I gotta go."

Mary's current partner is Missy, a four-year-old black Labrador who was born at the "Leader Dog" school, run by the Lions Club, in Rochester, Michigan.

Mary gets excited when she talks about her past and present canine companions. She says, "The biggest problem having a working dog is people want to pet them. I have to say, please don't -- she's working.' They're wearing a sign on their harness, but sometimes people just don't see it."

She visits with school children in grades K-2 at Ginther and Barclay schools in Brockport at the close of the school year. "When kids meet me, they most want to know about what working dogs do for people because there are so many kinds of working dogs. I tell them Missy's job is to lead me around, and to be alert at all times, to make sure I get to where I have to go. She's my eyes."

Mary feels strongly about getting people more aware of working dogs. "I don't think people understand the responsibility these dogs have, not just for blind, but for other people who have working dogs. You've got these dogs for the hearing impaired, and people in wheel chairs. These dogs have gone through so much training to be what they are."

Mary has few complaints about living in the village. She says both Clarkson and Brockport are pretty good about snow removal, but she does get annoyed when the refuse collectors leave cans and recycling bins on the sidewalk.

"I do have a lot of problems with college kids," she says. "They can be very rude when they see you coming down the street. There's one guy who lives in a house near me that 'barks' and makes weird noises at my dog trying to distract her. I have to tell Missy, 'no, no, no.' She hears those noises and thinks it's time to play ... a couple of times, when taking long walks down Rt. 19, a bunch of kids went by and threw out firecrackers. To me, that's cruel."

By far the most serious incident Mary ever encountered was a few years back when she was trying to cross West Avenue at the intersection with Rt. 19. Marty, her first guide dog, was leading her across the street when a car, making a right turn on red, nearly plowed into both of them. Mary says, "Marty pushed me out of the way, he really bumped me hard. The car, which was speeding, just missed Marty by inches."

Marty was never the same. Mary says he became very nervous, refusing to lead her out into intersections again. He had to be retired. Fortunately, another dog, a 16-month old Golden Retriever named Senney was available at Leader Dogs and a happy transition was made for all.

Shortly thereafter, the local Lions Club arranged for Warning Blind Person traffic signs to be installed near the scene of Marty and Mary's close call.

Today, Missy, Mary's latest working dog, goes everywhere: church, school, shopping, doctor's appointments, even the emergency room of the hospital. Missy is accepted everywhere she goes. (Except one grumpy relative's house whom Mary no longer visits).

Both Darla and Mary make use of local library collections of books-on-tape and other resources for the visually impaired. Mary is especially grateful to the Brockport Lions Club for its support in the 16 years she has lived in the village.

Darla is studying computer science at SUNY Brockport and is interested in adaptive technologies. Her computer verbalizes what's on the screen using a special synthesized speech card, similar to a video or sound card on a regular computer. She also has a talking watch which speaks the time on request, has alarms and an hourly chime, and enjoys communicating with friends using a portable ham radio.

In the late 80s, computer based adaptive technologies were sufficiently developed and low enough in cost that many sightless people were able to rely less on Braille.

As Darla says, "To produce books in Braille is very expensive and the books are very large. It takes a lot of paper, space and volume to keep things in Braille. So, most people today have computers, and even if they don't, it's cheaper to make a tape of a book for cassette than to put it into Braille.

Note: After several years on waiting lists, Darla Klein just got her first guide dog. Gillbert, a three-year-old yellow lab, should be leading Darla around town for years to come. Smile, but don't 'bark" at him, throw firecrackers, or try to pet him - he's working.