Mark Blevis

As many of you may know, I am blind, well under the law, as those CNIB ads say, most blind people can see some. My vision is 20/200 (a result of my albinism). I like answering questions about my disability (and it is a disability, I am not 'differently abled' or some other wacky PC term. I remember in grad school someone told me I was visually challenged and I said 'I never wake up thinking, oh great what a challenge, I wonder what I will walk into today!'). I was lucky enough to go to a normal school, and lucky enough to have good teachers (for the most part).

My boy, Jon, has autism. He too is disabled. So I am pretty sensitive to this stuff, and think about it some.

In sum, I like the idea 'the only thing I can't do is see' (Though one could throw in drive an F1 car...) I like people being straight, and I am straight with them. There is no need for PC terms, there si no need to worry that I am offended by being called blind, or by saying I don't have normal vision. It is, simply a fact.

Our Dean once said to me 'I am more interested in what you can do, rather than what you can't do Dave'.

Hi Mark,
Great post. My particular disability soapbox has to do with the degree to which disabled folks are "tho other" in the lives of so many non-disabled folk. That includes kids, of course. How does anyone learn about the nature of disability unless they actually know people who experience it, not as objects, but as friends and perhaps mentors?

I am visually impaired, and I'm the aunt of two wonderful four-year old twin girls. My disability has come up as I hold a book very close to my face as I read it to them. At one point, they wondered whether I could read a particular book, because I had had some trouble the last time--smallish print and no reading glasses. I told the girls that I could read the book today, and that if they ever wondered about something like that, they should always just come right up to me and ask, and I would give them a straight answer. They agreed, and we love to read whenever we're together.

Sometimes a practical adjustment has to be made, but If those kids know me as a person, they can learn to ask all the questions they need to about my disability and not make assumptions about what I can't do. And then, we can work on ways to climb the mountains together.

Mark, our 9-year-old daughter Keisha is hard of hearing, and we tell this to her all the time. Thank you for this post.