Maureen McGettigan: Blind, But Not Bland

My friend Sam is funny, smart, generous, witty and blind.

I met Sam one day when I was delivering Turkey baskets at Thanksgiving for the Lighthouse for the Blind. Sam didn't make a good first impression - she was argumentative and sarcastic. She was so outspoken and blunt that I was intrigued by this little lady who wasn't afraid to speak her mind. I told her that if she ever wanted to go walking, she should give me a call.

Sam, who has a photographic memory, remembered my phone number and called me a month later. I suppose she felt this was an appropriate amount of time to wait, as she never wants to appear needy. That was eight years ago.

Some people in life are dealt a better hand than others. The deck that Sam was dealt was definitely stacked against her. She was not only born blind but was also an orphan for most of her life. She was born in San Francisco during the Depression into an Irish, Catholic family and she had three brothers. At the age of two, her mother got tuburculosis and was put into a sanatorium, where she died three years later. Her father had a penchant for alcohol and singing Irish ballads. He was never gainfully employed and could not care for his children. He died when Sam was seven.

Sam attended the California School for the Blind in Berkeley as a ward of the state until she was 18 years old. During summers, when school was out, she floated in and out of various foster homes. At the school for the blind, Sam learned Braille and how to cope in a sighted world. The blind youth never used dogs or a cane because they were considered socially unacceptable. They were taught to navigate independently.

Sam learned well, because to this day, she gets all over San Francisco and the East Bay on public transportation, with only the use of a cane.

When we walk together, I'm always amazed that when she hears a bus, she knows the number and route of every coach that passes. Sam does not feel that she has limitations in life nor does she feel sorry for herself. She didn't sit back and collect welfare or Social Security. Instead, she went to college and learned to become a medical transcriber.

Although she had problems finding a job because many companies considered a blind person a liability, she did get hired and worked for many years at Kaiser and UCSF hospitals. Sam saved her money and bought a little house in the Sunset district near the beach for $32,000 where she has lived alone for the past 34 years. This turned out to be a very good investment because now it's worth more than $675,000.

The Lighthouse for the Blind is a wonderful social outlet for blind people that has been thriving for over 100 years. It's located at 214 Van Ness Ave. near the Civic Center in San Francisco The Lighthouse provides lunch for their clients several days a week. They have bingo games, dances, gardening classes, and even a bowling team.

Sam learned how to operate a computer at the Lighthouse using a special software program that talks, allowing her to use the internet and talking email.

I started volunteering at the Lighthouse because of all the handicaps a person can have, I think being blind would be the most difficult. Being a photographer, I can't imagine how terrible it would be not to have my sight. It's very common that many people also assume that the blind are deaf and dumb. When Sam and I are walking together, if we encounter new people, they are sometimes afraid to speak to her. They will say to me "Tell Sam this or tell her that." Of course, Sam immediately speaks up and says "I may be blind but I'm not stupid and my ears work just fine."

Sam and I have become good friends. However, I think I get more out of our time together than she does. I now, truly value the things that I previously took for granted. Like going to a Safeway - Sam can't go to a supermarket without someone helping her. She can't go to a movie or a play unless someone is with her who can describe the action. She can't go out for a walk by herself or even go to Walgreens alone. Crossing a street can be a harrowing experience. When she receives mail, she has no idea if it's a bill or a letter from a friend. And, how about the directions on food packages. She doesn't know how much water to add to make oatmeal or how long to cook it. Directions are not in Braille.

Even the most simple tasks require sight. I wanted to write about my friend Sam, not only to let the public know what an inspiration she is, but to let you know how volunteering can add a new dimension to your life. By devoting a couple of hours a week, I'm not only helping a blind person get some exercise, but I'm also reminding myself what really matters in life. I've learned that blind people accept the ups and downs of life better than sighted people do. They know how to roll with the punches and appreciate the things that they can do, rather than dwelling on the things they can't.

"You sighted people worry too much," she says.

I think she's right. Often, little inconveniences or obstacles annoy me. Now, if I get upset over some silly thing, like my car breaking down or not having a date for Saturday night, I remind myself that I can drive a car and go to a movie alone.

Volunteering for the handicapped or any organization will make you more aware of your good fortune and, hopefully, realize that the hand you were dealt is very, very good.

Maureen McGettigan is a writer and photographer with the Sunset Beacon.