

                      FUTURE REFLECTIONS

                              THE

               NATIONAL FEDERATION OF THE BLIND

                         MAGAZINE FOR

                   PARENTS OF BLIND CHILDREN



                        Vol. 15, No. 1

                         Winter, 1996





     In lieu of a regular magazine issue Future Reflections, Winter,

1996, volume 15, number 1, is a special mailing of two excellent large-

print books:  The World Under My Fingers: Personal Reflections on

Braille and Care and Feeding of the Long White Came: Instructions in

Cane Travel for Blind People.  I believe you will enjoy them and will

find yourself referring to them for information and inspiration many

times in the coming year.



Barbara Cheadle, Editor





                           Contents



The World Under My Fingers: Personal Reflections on Braille

Edited by Barbara Pierce

Published by the National Federation of the Blind

copyright 1995



Care and Feeding of the Long White Cane: 

Instructions in Cane Travel for Blind People

by Thomas Bickford

Published by the National Federation of the Blind

copyright 1993



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                 The World Under My Fingers: 

                Personal Reflections on Braille



                           Edited by

                        Barbara Pierce



                       Table of Contents





An Open Letter to Parents  1

Who Should Learn Braille  11

Keeping Within the Lines  23

The Everyday Usefulness of Braille  33

Blueprint for Learning?  43

Braille Made the Difference  55

The Value of Learning Braille as a Child  57

Braille is an Essential Part of My Life Because...  63

Braille or Print: Why the Debate  73

The Chance to Read  93

Reflections of a Lifelong Braille Reader  101

Braille Today and Tomorrow  117

Braille: What Is It? What Does It Mean to the Blind?  135

A Lucky Beginning, A Happy Ending  143





                         INTRODUCTION





     All parents yearn for their children to be happy and healthy and

to grow up to live satisfying and productive lives. If it were possible

to do so, we would arrange for them to be attractive, intelligent,

ambitious, sensible, and funnyall the traits, in short, we wish we

could boast and never have enough of, no matter how talented we are.

Obviously our children do not grow up to exhibit all these traits, but

most of them do well enough with the skills and attributes we do manage

to impart to them.



     Sometimes, however, a child must come to terms with very real

difficulties: frequent or serious illness, mental handicaps of one kind

or another, or physical disability. The parents, too, must then face the

limitations or alterations that such problems place on our children and

on our dreams for them. The natural instinct is to feel that the more

closely the child can be taught to mimic the behavior of so-called

normal youngsters, the better off he or she will be in the long run,

because the differences will be less obvious. If we are honest with

ourselves, we usually find that a part of this reaction also comes from

the feeling that we will not have to confront the problem as directly

and painfully if the trappings of disability are kept to a minimum.

However, successful adults who have coped with various disabilities for

many years have a somewhat different notion. We have found that striving

for the independence and richness of normal adult experience is far more

satisfying and constructive than trying to use the methods of those who

have no obvious disabilities, even though such striving requires mastery

of alternative techniques and skills.



     In the case of people whose vision is so poor as to make it

difficult or impossible to read regular print for extended periods of

time and to write accurately and legibly, it is extremely useful to

learn to read and write using Braille. When learned early and taught by

a knowledgeable teacher, Braille is an invaluable tool for those who

cannot use print comfortably for extended periods of time or in all

kinds of light.



     Most of the following stories and articles are firsthand accounts

of people who have depended on Braille all their lives or who were

denied Braille instruction and have paid the price of that neglect for

years. As you consider whether or not to ask that your child be taught

Braille, we invite you to consider the experience and views of these

competent blind adults.





                   AN OPEN LETTER TO PARENTS

                       By Barbara Pierce



     Editor's note: Barbara Pierce is the President of the National

Federation of the Blind of Ohio and Editor of the Braille Monitor

magazine.



     Can you remember the intoxication of learning to read? I can. When

I began first grade, the Scott-Foresman primers about the adventures of

Dick, Jane, and Sally were in use, and I still remember the picture of

Dick standing on his shoulders in a pile of leaves, feet kicking in the

air, while one of his sisters intoned the page's text, "Look at Dick!

Funny, funny Dick!" 



     Had I but known it, those early weeks of first grade were the high

point of my reading career. We gathered around the teacher in reading

groups to sound out the words and falter our way through each page. I

was good at it. I understood the principles of picking out the sound of

each letter and shoving them together rapidly enough to guess at the

meaning. The result was that I was in the first reading group.



     My success didn't last long. By second semester each page bore

many more lines of print, and my mother was forced to work with me at

home after school or before bed to help me keep up. For I was what they

called a low-vision child. I could see the print with only one eye, and

I am certain that I was legally blind, though no one ever used that word

in my hearing. Mother placed a little lamp close to the page so that I

could see as well as possible, but the letters were still blurred, and I

could never get the hang of reading an entire word at once.



     By second grade I was in the second reading group, and by third

grade I had slipped to the third group, despite the lamp now clipped to

the side of my desk. I had to face the truth: I was dumb. I lay awake at

night worrying about the increasing number of spelling workbook

exercises left undone because my reading and writing were too slow to

complete them in class. I still maintained an unbroken string of perfect

spelling tests because my parents drilled me on the spelling lists every

week. The tests were nothing, but the workbook! I fantasized about what

it would be like to go to bed at night and not stare open-eyed into the

black prospect of mortification when the truth about me and my

incomplete work eventually came to my parents' notice.



     It happened at the close of the third marking period, and it came,

as such things do, like a bolt from the blue. I had actually brought

home what I thought was a good report cardall A's and B'sexcept for

art, penmanship, and gym, in which I always got C's. Everybody knew that

I was terrible at those things because "Barbara's blind as a bat." But

the dreaded unmasking of my shameful secret in the spelling workbook

seemed to me to have remained hidden beneath an A for yet one more

grading period. I handed my mother my report card and ran out to play.

But when my brother and I were called in for dinner (Dad was out of town

at the time), I knew that something was wrong; Mother had been crying,

and she did not sit down to dinner with us. She said that she had a

headache. It soon became apparent that I was the headache. My report

card had betrayed me after all. In all that hard-to-read small print at

the bottom the teacher had given me a U (unsatisfactory) in the

puts-forth-best-effort category, where I was used to getting

E's(Excellent) or at least S's (satisfactory). 



     Mother went to school the next day and learned the horrible truth

about me. I was astonished to learn afterward that the relief of having

my shameful secret out in the open actually reduced my burden. True, I

had to make up all the work I had been avoiding because the reading had

become too difficult. Play time was much reduced, and I had to learn all

over again how to go to sleep without worrying, but things were never

again as bad.



     In the following years we tried magnifying glasses for my good

right eye, and the summer after fourth grade I had to be tutored in an

effort to learn to read with high magnification. In September of fifth

grade my new teacher called on me to read a paragraph in the geography

book during the class lesson. I read like a second grader, and I was

mortified. The teacher never called on me again. By sixth grade I was

hardly using the glasses at all. I was quick to learn as long as I

didn't have to struggle to make sense of the print, and it was easier on

everyone for the teacher to assign a rapid reader to work with me on

in-class reading projects. 



     Finally, at the close of seventh grade, my parents faced the

painful truth: if I were to have any hope of literacy, I would have to

learn Braille. Print was no longer an option. I mastered the Braille

code in a summer of weekly lessons taught by a woman who used Braille

herself, though she admitted that she was not a good Braille reader. She

assured me that her husband could read Braille rapidly, but I never

heard him or anyone else use the code efficiently. People told me it was

important to use my Braille and that practice would increase my speed.

But by that point in my education I had already worked out alternative

ways of getting my reading and writing done, and I was no longer eager

to crawl down a page of text as we had done in early elementary school.

I practiced writing Braille with my slate and stylus because I knew that

in college I would need a good way of taking notes in lectures, but I

never made time to learn to read Braille properly.



     Now that I am a member of the National Federation of the Blind, I

know hundreds of people who read Braille easily and well. Some of them

could not see print when they were beginning school, so Braille was the

only option for them. But many more could make out print when they were

learning to read, even though as adults they cannot see it. They were

lucky enough to be taught Braille along with print, and they simply and

naturally learned to decide which method would be most useful for each

reading task. As a result they now read Braille at several hundred words

a minute.



     I have never regretted learning to read print. Everyone should

know the shapes of print letters, but I will always bitterly regret that

I was not taught Braille as a small child. Today I am struggling to gain

the speed and accuracy in reading Braille that I should have had by the

time I was ten. I have now been working at it for six years, and my

reading speed has tripled, but I must face the fact that I will probably

never read as well as a bright ten-year-old. Setting aside the fact that

the adult brain does not master new skills as rapidly as does a child's,

I cannot bring myself to practice reading aloud to my long-suffering

family. The time for taking advantage of such an opportunity is

childhood, and I cannot inflict my stumbling reading on my husband.



     If my mother could speak to you who are facing the dilemma of

whether or not to demand that your children learn Braille, she would

urge you to decide in favor of Braille. No matter how clearly a

youngster can see print at the moment, if the vision is fragile or

problematic in any way, Braille will often become invaluable in the

future, even if print too continues to be useful. I urge you to keep

your child's options open and your expectations high. All young things

need space to stretch and grow within their God-given abilities. Please

insist that your child be given a chance.



                   WHO SHOULD LEARN BRAILLE



     Editor's note: The following is an excerpt from a document written

by members of the National Federation of the Blind of Maryland and

staffers from the Maryland Department of Education, which is titled

"Selection of Reading and Writing Media for Students with Visual

impairments: Braille, Print, or Both?"



                    Decision-Making Process

The decision to teach Braille, print, or both will take into

consideration all of the information gathered during the assessment. The

assessment information will help the team select from among the

following options. Students may be taught to use:



1. Braille

2. Print

3. Braille, complemented with print

4. Print, complemented with Braille



     The remainder of this section provides examples of the kinds of

assessment data that will assist a team in choosing one of the four

options. Of course, assessment descriptions provided below are somewhat

generic, i.e., not all parts of the descriptions will apply to each

student. Since students are individuals, not everyone will fit neatly

into one of the four categories. In reviewing these descriptions, team

members should ask which factors best describe the individual student.



     It is also important to remember that, when the selected option

includes both Braille and print, the amount of use of one or the other

will vary with each student. Student input should be obtained so that

the team decision is sensitive to student preference and concerns.

Additionally, as a student's vision or visual demands change over time,

the use of one medium over another may change.



     However, even though a student may use one medium more than

another at a given time, it is critical that the student develop

proficient use of both. For the preschool student this will mean that

opportunities for visual and tactual activities are provided equally.

Later, the amount of time teaching or practicing with a certain medium

will depend on all assessment data and the current needs of the student.

The team must continually focus on the ultimate outcome so that the

student will be able to choose and use the medium of preference or the

medium most functional for a given situation.



             Which Students Should Learn Braille?



     Medical Factors: Student is totally blind, nearly so, or expected

to experience rapid loss of vision.



     Physical Factors: An additional disability does not interfere with

the ability to learn Braille.



     Environmental Factors: Adjustments in natural and artificial

lighting do not enhance student ability to read print.



     Print Reading Factors: If the student can read print at all,

reading is extremely slow and laborious, even when all print factors

have been adjusted for maximum efficiency.



     Handwriting Factors: Student cannot read own handwriting to carry

out functional handwriting demands.



     Low Vision Technological Factors: Student cannot read print at any

comfort level, even using a CCTV or other non-portable devices.



              Which Students Should Learn Print?



     Medical Factors: Student has a stable eye condition or has a

prognosis of continued improvement.



     Physical Factors: Student experiences no fatigue or discomfort

from reading. The nature of an additional disability prohibits tactual

reading. Student, when systematically assessed, exhibits inability to

process tactual information with any accuracy and facility.



     Environmental Factors: Student does not require extensive

modifications in natural or artificial lighting in order to read

comfortably for extended periods of time.



     Print Reading Factors: Student reads regular print comfortably and

efficiently in most settings and circumstances. Reading rate accuracy is

commensurate with student's expected grade level. Performance level is

commensurate with overall ability. Student can use print easily for all

academic, nonacademic, and vocational needs.



     Handwriting Factors: Student has legible handwriting and can

easily read own and others' notes at a comfortable distance, even after

some time has elapsed.



     Low Vision Technological Factors: Student reads regular print

without low vision devices and comfortably uses pocket-size

magnification for reading fine print, such as the telephone book,

medicine labels, dictionary, and encyclopedia.



 Which Students Should Learn Braille Complemented with Print?



     Medical Factors: Student has diagnosis or prognosis of severe

visual impairment, has a degenerative eye condition, or has severely

restricted visual fields.



     Physical Factors: Student holds book close to face, can read only

large print, or regularly suffers from headaches, fatigue, or visual

discomfort after reading. Student exhibits strong preference for tactual

exploration and learning. Student can read using an electronic low

vision aid, but only with effort; cannot read with hand-held magnifiers

with any reasonable speed or comprehension. Student is unable to

complete assigned school work in a timely manner consistently and

independently.



     Environmental factors: Glare and/or lighting variations make

reading difficult or impossible in many settings.



     Print Reading Factors: Student's print reading speed is far below

that of other students of the same developmental level. Student

consistently demonstrates inaccuracy when reading. Student has

difficulty in reading a variety of print styles or print on colored

background.



     Handwriting Factors: Student can only read notes when written with

a broad tip pen one to two inches high and may have difficulty

accurately reading what was written or can only read notes using a CCTV

or other non-portable device.



 Which Students Should Learn Print Complemented with Braille?



     Medical Factors: Student has a currently stable eye condition but

is at risk of eventual deterioration, has a slowly progressive eye

condition, has restricted visual field, or has fluctuating vision.



     Physical Factors: Student's posture during reading results in back

and neck strain or headaches. Student complains of watering eyes,

blurring, or other visual discomfort after extensive reading or writing

tasks. Student cannot complete assignments without relying on other

individuals or technology for reading and/or note taking.



     Environmental Factors: Glare and/or lighting variations make

reading difficult or impossible in some settings.



     Print Reading Factors: Student cannot read regular print easily

and accurately for an appropriate length of time in order to complete

tasks throughout the day. Student may read material in both regular and

large print formats. Student reads primarily in large print format

combined with optical or electronic low-vision devices. Student is

unable to maintain a reading rate commensurate with grade level work

demands. Student depends on extraordinarily large print for accessing

practical information such as oral report notes, grocery lists, names

and addresses, etc. In preschool observations should include how a

student approaches learning, i.e., a visual versus tactual approach.



     Handwriting Factors: Student has difficulty producing and reading

own or others' handwriting.



     Low Vision Technological Factors: Student may use CCTV or other

non-portable devices for visual materials such as maps and diagrams.



                   KEEPING WITHIN THE LINES

                        by Marc Maurer



     Editor's Note: Marc Maurer is President of the National Federation

of the Blind. He is a graduate of Notre Dame and the University of

Indiana Law School and a member of the bar of several states and the

United States Supreme Court. He is also the father of two young

children. Braille is an important tool for himin his career and in his

home. Here is what he has to say about some of his early experiences

with Braille:



     The kindergarten in the public school that I attended when I was

five left me with a feeling of alienation and frustrationthough I

didn't know the words to describe the problem. My teacher was a kind and

gentle lady, who tried to help me, but I presented difficulties which

she felt unable to solve. Many of the kindergarten activities were done

visually. Learning colors, drawing, recognizing letters and numbers,

naming the geometric shapesall of these were presented visually. Some

kindergarten tasks could be done quite effectively without

sightcounting, reciting the alphabet, remembering your own address and

telephone number, listing in order the days of the week or the months of

the year. But in the drawing classes I was unable to "keep within the

lines," and "keeping within the lines" was important.



     I learned the shapes of the print capital letters from the

building blocks we had, and I came to know the forms of numbers in the

same way. By the time kindergarten had come to an end, I had learned to

print my name, M-A-R-C, but I usually got it backwardsC-R-A-M. As I

viewed it, the experiment with kindergarten was only marginally

successful. Although it was never stated, the lesson of kindergarten was

unmistakableblind people are different from others; they require

kindness; they can't do the ordinary things that other people do; they

can't keep within the lines.



     My parents decided that I would attend the school for the blind

even though doing so meant that I would be away from home during most of

the school year. Of course, I could return home for holidays and during

some weekends, but the rest of the time I would live in a dormitory with

my classmates at the school. At the age of six I left home. The school

for the blind was over a hundred miles from our house. It was the

beginning of a different kind of life.



     Because I was at that time almost totally blind, I was expected to

learn Braille. We started the learning process with flash cards. There

was a straight line of Braille dots across the top of each card and a

single word in the center. I still remember the first flash card I ever

read; it contained the word "go."



     Each of us was given our first reading bookthe primer about Dick

and Jane and Spot. It was the first Braille book I ever had in my hands.

My book seemed to be about a foot square and about a half an inch thick.

The teacher told us to open our books to page one. My desk was in the

first row, about the sixth or seventh from the front. The first child in

the row was asked to read page one. When there were mistakes, the

teacher corrected them.



     Then the second student was asked to read the same page. Again,

when there were mistakes, the teacher corrected them. The lesson

continued in the same manner. Each student in the first row was asked to

read page one. By the time the teacher got to me, my job was clear, and

my performance flawless. With my fingers on the page, I spoke the words

of page one with never an error or hesitation. The teacher praised me

highly and asked me to come to the front of the room. She produced a

gold star from her desk drawer and pasted it to page one of my book. She

told me to take my book home and show it to my mother. This is exactly

what I did. On Friday night after the journey home I proudly produced my

primer, opened it to page one, and recited the words which appeared on

the page.



     My mother is a properly suspicious woman. She had learned Braille

in the years before I attended school because she thought it might be

helpful to me. She asked me if she could borrow the book, and of course

I gave it to her. Later during the weekend she brought me a page of

Braille and asked me to read it. Without much concern I confessed that I

could not. My mother told me that it was an exact copy of page one of my

book. I had memorized the words, but I was not able to read them. 



     During the summer between my first and second grade years, my

mother took matters in hand. She told me that I must learn to read, and

she said that she would teach me. For an hour every morning I was going

to study Braille. I complained. The other kids got to go outside to

play, but I could not. Nobody else had summer school at homeonly me.

But none of my griping did any good. My mother had made up her mind; I

was going to learn to read.



     When I returned to the school for the blind for second grade, I

discovered the library of Braille booksthat collection of

sweet-smelling Braille volumes almost a foot square and about two and a

half inches thick. During the next four years I read every book that the

librarian would let me have. I developed the habit of reading at night.

Blindness has some advantages. I would slide the book under the bed

sometime during the evening. Bedtime was 8:00. The house parent made his

rounds between 8:30 and 8:45. I could hear his shoes coming down the

hall and then receding in the distance. When the footsteps had faded,

the book came out. No light is needed for Braille. Sometimes it was

cold, but the Braille book would fit under the covers.



     I tried the same system at home, and it worked most of the time.

When I got caught, which happened occasionally, my mother spanked me.

The punishments were fair, but the reading was worth it.



     Although I complained bitterly about learning Braille, I am deeply

grateful to my mother for insisting that I learn it. How fortunate I am

that she understood the necessity for me to read. How fortunate I am

that she was persistent and demanding. How fortunate I am that she had

learned Braille herself and was able to teach me.



     Today we in the National Federation of the Blind do much to help

make Braille available to blind students and to encourage the teaching

of Braille both to children and adults who are blind. But this is not

how it has always been. There was a time when Braille was regarded as

inferior, and all too often today it does not get the attention it

deserves. Much of my work as a lawyer could not have been done without

Braille. I now read to my children most evenings. They enjoy the

stories, and I enjoy the reading as much as they do. How different my

life would have been without the ability to read Braille. How different

it can be for the children of this generation if we give them the chance

to learn. The message should not be that blind people are different and

unable to take part. Even though I might not be able to draw, my mother

felt certain that I could keep within the lines. We in the National

Federation of the Blind are doing what we can to make it come true.



              THE EVERYDAY USEFULNESS OF BRAILLE

                      by Lauren L. Eckery



     Editor's note: We can hope that the time will come, sooner rather

than later, when an article like the following will no longer be an

appropriate candidate for inclusion in the pages of a publication like

this. No one needs to persuade sighted people about the pervasive

usefulness of print; the case has been made so effectively that even

those for whom it is inconvenient, awkward, or painful struggle to use

it. But would-be Braille-users and parents of children for whom print is

not an efficient tool still need down-to-earth examples of the value of

Braille in the conduct of everyday life. So here are some practical

reminders about Braille from a busy, organized working woman and mother

who uses Braille as efficiently and automatically as her sighted

counterparts use print.



     Lauren Eckery is an active working woman and mother. She

frequently writes about her experiences as a blind person. 



     It is the early 1970's, and my family is traveling by car to

Minnesota for a vacation. Both my mother and I like to read and crochet

on long trips.



     The dimness of the evening sky envelops us gradually, and my

mother stops reading. She also decides she can no longer crochet. She

wants to check the time but cannot see her watch without turning on the

dome light. She chooses to listen to the radio or take a nap.



     Meanwhile, in the back seat of the car, I continue my activities.

I read my Braille magazine for a while. Then I crochet several rows on

my afghan. Braille labels help me keep the different colors of yarn in

order. Now and then I check the time on my Braille watch, the excitement

mounting as we near our final destination.



     It is the later 1970's or early 1980's. I am singing in my church

choir. During our Thursday evening service prior to Good Friday, the

lights are extinguished one by one until it is nearly dark in the

sanctuary. While the choir sings, I notice a discreet scramble for notes

and lyrics. I continue singing the alto part I have memorized and

reading the lyrics in Braille. Rather than becoming anxious and

embarrassed by struggling to continue the music, I go on as before,

experiencing the special tone of the service.



     It is any day. I am speaking to a group of school children, who

are interested in what I am saying about blindness: "Given the proper

training and opportunity, blind people can lead normal lives." But their

favorite part of the presentation is the show- and-tell segment, during

which I demonstrate various aids and appliances enabling the blind to be

independent. Their greatest curiosity seems to revolve around Braille.

"What is it? What do you do with it? How do you read and write it? Is it

hard to learn?"

 

     Simply telling the children that Braille is a blind person's

equivalent to print is seldom enough. They seem to understand that

Braille can be used in school for reading and taking notes, but for what

else can one use it? Again, to oversimplify, saying that we use Braille

for the same purposes one uses print for often goes uncomprehended. The

children want concrete examples.



     At our 1991 annual convention of the National Federation of the

Blind, held in New Orleans, Louisiana, the usefulness of Braille was one

of the underlying themes of our discussions. In the course of attending

convention activities, I was observed and approached by several new

Federation members who were losing some of their vision. They were

grappling with the fact that they needed to learn Braille. Two young

women who spoke with me knew that it made sense. They had been told that

Braille could be useful to them, but they were reluctant to commit the

full amount of time and effort necessary to learn Braille well enough to

use it on a daily basis. Their lack of motivation seemed to stem from a

lack of everyday examples in which using Braille could be useful and

necessary for them. They, like the children I have spoken of previously,

understood that Braille was useful for academic and employment pursuits,

but what about blind people who are neither in school nor working? How

could they make Braille such a part of their lives that they couldn't

resist learning and using it efficiently? I was pleased to give these

convention delegates concrete examples and encouragement in the use of

Braille.



     With the advent of our efforts to obtain a Braille bill in

Nebraska, readers of News from Blind Nebraskans and other interested

parties might appreciate some further examples of the everyday

usefulness of Braille in the lives of everyday independent blind

persons. Although the list is endless, here are some examples which have

occurred to me during the writing of this article:



     Taking telephone and other messages; making grocery and other

lists; keeping telephone numbers, addresses, and other informational

index files; placing Brailled clear plastic sheet overlays into printed

children's books so that blind parents, teachers, and others can read to

blind or sighted children; keeping recipes, crochet or knitting

patterns, and instructions of various types in Braille for efficient and

independent access- -and the list goes on.



     One can label almost anything in Braille: photographs; phonograph

records; cassette tapes; video tapes; games; puzzle pieces; food items;

medications; printed materials for later filing; checks; receipts; bills

and other documents for independent handling of finances; household and

other appliances; newsletter mailers; coupons; greeting cards; post

cards; gift tags; yarn, thread, and other needlework equipment; etc.



     At this point one might decide that such labeling mania is

overwhelmingly time-consuming. Abbreviations to the rescue! For

instance, when I label a spool of thread, I abbreviate the color so that

the small label will fit on the end of the spool"bl" for blue, "br" for

brown, "bk" for black, "gy" for gray, "pk" for pink. Most blind people

use a combination of memory, recognition by touch, sighted assistance,

and Braille labeling for identification.



     An especially interesting example of labeling comes from my

storehouse of childhood memories. One of my favorite pastimes for most

of my youth was cutting out and coloring paper dolls freehand. For

several years I could see blobs of color well enough to use a

color-coded system for naming my paper dolls ("Laurie" was blue skirt

and white top, for example). As my vision waned and the diversity in the

names I chose for these paper dolls increased, I eventually changed my

naming system to one in which I wrote each doll's name in Braille on it.

To this day, I have a collection of some of those paper dolls. My ten-

year-old daughter, Lynden, has enjoyed looking at Mommy's collection.

She has asked me the names of many of the dolls. Although I do still

remember the names of some of the dolls with colored clothing by

recognizing some other characteristic about them, reading the Braille

names is foolproof. If I had wanted to continue coloring the dolls'

clothing, I could have devised a labeling system for my crayons and

paints, but at the time Braille was my preferred choice, whether I

colored the dolls or not.



     Years later, as a young adult, I took a cue from my creative

childhood's adaptive technique. When I lost the slight amount of vision

I had, it was simple and natural for me to separate my yarn colors into

individual bags and place a Braille label in each one for

identification. This method works well for multicolored crochet

projects.



     One who is just beginning to learn Braille might feel exhausted by

this incomplete list of examples. But believe me, if one has no

opportunity to learn or use Braille or if one is limited in his or her

creative capacity in devising multiple practical applications of

Braille, he or she can indeed be illiterate and unnecessarily dependent

on others for assistance.



     On the other hand, if we use Braille pervasively in our lives, we

will become experts at reading and writing it just as print users do

with print. One of Lynden's earliest and best methods for beginning to

learn print, besides watching "Sesame Street," was reading labels and

signs in her environment. Why not make Braille as normal a part of our

environment? 



     The main purpose for passing a Braille bill in every state of the

Union is to maximize the independence and equality of blind persons, be

they children or adults. Now, who could in good conscience oppose

adoption of a Braille bill once they truly understood the everyday

usefulness of Braille?



                    BLUEPRINT FOR LEARNING?

                     by Stephen O. Benson



     Editor's note: In many ways a great deal of progress has been made

by blind people in recent timesmore jobs, better special tools and

equipment, increased understanding. But in at least one critical area

blind children growing up today are being badly shortchanged in a way

that was very nearly unheard of fifty years ago. In recent decades most

blind children have not routinely been taught how to read and write

Braille. Many of these children have now reached adulthood. I talk to

them by the hundreds. Almost without exception they feel they were

betrayed by their teachers and the other experts their parents trusted

to plan their education. We as blind people should not have to fight for

blind children to have the chance to learn to read and write Braille.



     Parents expect schools to teach sighted children how to read and

write, and there are laws requiring that it be done. We want the laws to

protect blind children, too. But the experts often fight against such

laws. They seem to think deciding whether to teach a blind child to read

Braille is very complicated. The truth is that it is very simple. If a

child can't see well enough to read print easily, Braille should be

taught. But that is not what usually happens, and the blind child pays a

heavy price for the rest of his or her life.



     Steve Benson does public relations and public education for the

Chicago Public Library. He was trained as a high school English teacher

and taught for a number of years before becoming a Braille instructor

and then an administrator of a private agency serving blind people. He

has much personal and professional experience with Braille. This is what

he has to say:



     At one and a half years of age my eye condition was diagnosed as

retinitis pigmentosa, which often results in total blindness. As I

approached first grade, my doctors and teachers (the team of

professionals) asserted that I should use my limited vision to its

maximum for as long as possible. My family was directed to enroll me in

what was then called "sight saving." Print was to be the medium by which

I was to learn to read.



     The sight saving classroom was equipped with the best technology

of the day (1948): dark green chalkboards with yellow chalk, yellow

paper with heavy green lines, indirect lighting, desks with adjustable

work surfaces that allowed the student to bring reading and writing

materials closer to the face, and typewriters with large print. Each

student wore prescription lenses and had access to hand-held magnifiers.

In addition we used large-print textbooks. In third grade we learned to

type by the touch typing method.



     In my case and in countless others, neither equipment nor teaching

techniques would or could work. The techniques and the teachers' efforts

were misapplied. The prescription for sight saving class was in error.

From the first day of class my limited vision prevented me from reading

effectively. Over the course of the next four and a half years my visual

acuity decreased while the print I was expected to read became smaller.



     I remember alternately gazing out the window and puzzling over a

printed page. By fourth grade my teachers had to print out my classwork

by hand, using large letters and india ink. With all of that I still

felt as though I was reading grey print on grey paper. Yet I remained in

sight saving class until the middle of fifth grade.



     The toll I paid for the professionals' decisions was high. I

dreaded reading; my confidence eroded; I feared blindness; I acquired

bad reading habits that carried over into adulthood. I never checked a

book out of the library. Why should I?  I couldn't read it.



     During the summer of 1952 the professionals finally admitted that

print might not be the right way for me to be getting an education. In

September of that year I was transferred to what we referred to as the

blind school, where I began to learn Braille. It wasn't difficult. My

teacher was competent. She knew Braille. She gave me positive

encouragement. My reading and writing speeds were slow at first;

however, as I gained proficiency and confidence, speeds increased. In

January of 1953, at age eleven, I checked out and read a library book

for the first time in my life. It was in Braille.



     Over the last forty years teams of professionals have continued to

make the same foolish and costly decisions, probably with greater

frequency as the years have passed. As a member of the National

Federation of the Blind Scholarship Committee, I have met an astounding

number of high school and college students who, because they had some

vision, were deprived of Braille or were discouraged from learning it

without regard to whether the student could read print well enough to

compete with sighted peers.



     One scholarship applicant, not unusual, uses taped books and a

closed circuit television magnifier. Under the best conditions she is

able to read for only a minute at a time, and that with great

discomfort. She is enrolled as a part-time student in a community

college, partly because her vision doesn't allow her to meet the reading

and writing demands of full-time status. She has asked to be taught

Braille, but her family and the teams of professionals with whom she has

worked have actively discouraged it.



     Too many parents assume that the experts must know what's best,

and will necessarily do what's best for the child. Those assumptions are

often wrong and prove to be quite costly to the blind child. 



     "What's best for the child" is a catch phrase that too often

translates into decisions that are convenient for the teacher, school,

or district and into efforts to make the blind child's educational needs

conform to budget priorities.



     Were my experience forty years ago and that of the college student

I described mere coincidence?  I don't believe they were. Nor do I

believe that de-emphasis on literacy (Braille) was or is accidental.



     De-emphasis on Braille is disgraceful, just as de-emphasis on

print would be. People who have a good command of reading and writing

skills tend to do better in math, science, history, languages, music,

and all the rest. People who can read and write successfully have a

better chance at competitive employment and every other situation in

life, for that matter.



     The anti-literacy/anti-Braille position taken by so many educators

of blind children and adults has had wider negative impact than they

might imagine. Several years ago I worked at an agency for the blind in

Chicago. In support of a program to teach Braille, I submitted a grant

request to the Chicago Tribune Foundation. The grant request was turned

down. The reasons, according to a foundation spokesman, were that

Braille has nothing to do with literacy, it is obsolete, and reading can

be done by recordings.



     I was disappointed that the program did not receive that support.

I was disgusted by the ignorance of the foundation personnel, but I was

not surprised.



     For fifteen years I taught Braille for the Veterans Administration

at Hines Hospital. One of my assigned duties was to supervise Western

Michigan University interns (student teachers) studying to become

rehabilitation teachers.



     An alarming number of these interns didn't know Grade II Braille,

could not write with a slate and stylus, and had to be instructed in the

use of an ordinary Braille writer. One intern didn't know Grade I

Braille, though he had taken and passed a  Braille course.



     Though I wrote negative reports regarding their poor skills, all

of these interns passed the internship, and presumably all were

certified by the Association for the Education and Rehabilitation of the

Blind and Visually Impaired (AER).



     If future generations of blind people, children and adults, are to

be literate, if future generations of blind people hope to be

competitive in society, they must have access to the printed word by a

method that will allow writing as well as reading. It is time for

educators to grit their teeth and admit that a colossal error has been

made.



     Then they must bring themselves up to speed on Braille and all of

its tools, mechanical and electronic. It is time for educators to join

us in our effort to require that Braille be made available to any child

who wants it and to participate in making sure that sufficient funding

is available to make mandates and good intentions mean something.



                  BRAILLE MADE THE DIFFERENCE



     Editor's note: Because I edit a monthly magazine, the Braille

Monitor, all kinds of material about blindness comes across my desk. But

I recently read two articles within a two-hour period that, taken

together, make the case for Braille more powerfully than anything I have

yet seen or written. The pieces came from totally different sources, but

the authors have a number of things in common. Both are working

womensingle, educated, committed to helping other people. Both live in

the Midwest and were educated in regular schools. One, however, was

taught Braille early and with wise insistence that she use it in her

classes and at home. Her parents expected her to read well and did all

the things that good parents do to encourage effective reading skills in

their youngsters. The other was forced to use print even when it was

slow and painful. The cost academically and personally was immense. Not

until she lost the remainder of her sight as an adult was she able to

learn the Braille that she depends upon today and that could have made

all the difference to her in school.



     Mary Hartle lives in Iowa, though she grew up in Minnesota.



     Jana Schroeder lives in Ohio. She was a 1984 NFB scholarship

winner, and she has served as President of the National Federation of

the Blind of the Miami Valley. She submitted her reflections on Braille

as an essay in a Braille-writing contest conducted by the NFB of Ohio.

Contest entries were to be written using a slate and stylus, and the

winner received a Braille 'n Speak 640, a hand-held Braille computer.

Jana's six-page essay was done in flawless Braille code without a single

slate error. It was the winning entry in the adult category. Viewed

together, these two short autobiographies provide a powerful

illustration in support of the contention  that Braille is a vital tool

for anyone who can't read print easily but who wishes to succeed in

life. Here is Mary Hartle's article:



           The Value of Learning Braille as a Child

                        by Mary Hartle

     Although visually impaired, I attended regular school in the

1950's and 1960's. I  attended a parochial school in Minneapolis  and

was the only child with a vision impairment. I was taught to read print

and progressed through the grades along with other children my age. No

effort was ever made to teach me Braille. But, in retrospect, I wish I

had been taught Braille as a small child.



     Although I could read standard print, I could not read it  as fast

as sighted students could. My grades ranged from a few B's to several

C's, and some D's. (My brothers and sisters got A's and B's.) I was

tracked into the lowest-ability group in junior high, although I was

promoted to the middle group halfway through both the seventh and eighth

grades. I could not read as much material as others could and thus had

to spend more time on homework. I also had to hold books much closer to

my face. Due to prolonged periods of bending over to read books at close

range, I developed posture problems which, to this day, require

chiropractic treatment.



     Learning became difficult and painful rather than joyful and

exciting. As reading and learning became more difficult, I came to feel

less intelligent. I began to feel shame and thus had more difficulty

concentrating on learning. I became more anxious because of my increased

difficulty. This was manifested in my struggles with arithmetic in fifth

grade. I can still recall my extreme frustration and tears as I

attempted to do my homework with my family's tutorial help.



     As a child I read fewer books than my classmates, especially

novels, although I did read magazines and a few quick-read books. I also

had, and still have, trouble spelling many words because I was not able

to see the letters within words correctly. For instance, spelling

double-consonant words has been particularly difficult because my eyes

did not focus normally when I first learned to spell these words.



     Since I did not use Braille as a child, I was truly handicapped in

my educational progress, and my self-confidence was low because I was

unable to read fluently at a normal speed. I was embarrassed about both

my slow reading speed and the fact that I had to look closer in order to

read. Had I learned Braille  earlier, I would have been able to read at

a speed similar to that of sighted students.



     As I progressed through high school and college, the reading

requirements became much greater, and the size of the print became much

smaller. In college I avoided classes with heavy reading demands, such

as history and literature.



     Over the past ten years I have lost the rest of my vision, thus

necessitating my learning Braille. I am not unique. Many legally blind

children with a little useful residual vision become blind adults with

little or no ability to read print. Although I use Braille in my

day-to-day life and on the job, I do not read with the speed I could

have if I had learned Braille in the primary grades. There is nothing

shameful about reading Braille or using any other non-visual technique.

Today's blind children deserve a better education and a better chance to

succeed in our highly competitive information age than I had. In fact,

the need to read as efficiently as possible is more crucial today than

ever before. Without Braille the chances of these children's getting

through high school, much less going beyond it, will be minimal. 



     When I think of how much Braille would have enhanced my education

even though I could read standard print at the time, I know how

important Braille is for children today who can barely read standard

print or who rely on large print. School does not  have to be and should

not be torture. I believe visually impaired children must be given the

opportunity to learn Braille if:



1. they cannot read print at speeds comparable to that of their

classmates;



2. they cannot hold reading material at a normal distance from their

eyes; or



3. they cannot read print for long periods.



     Braille is as effective a reading method as print is, and blind

and visually impaired children have the right to become as literate as

their sighted classmates.



     That was Mary Hartle's description of growing up and being

educated without an efficient tool for reading and writing. Contrast her

experience with that of Jana Schroeder:



      Braille is an Essential Part of My Life Because...

                       by Jana Schroeder



     I was born with extremely limited vision to a family with no prior

experience of blindness. It was the early 1960's, and we lived near

Dayton, Ohio. Looking back, I recognize that I was lucky to have been

born in that place and time and into a sensible, loving family. Without

that fortunate combination of factors, my life might have been very

different.



     My family did a lot of reading aloud. From my earliest days  I

assumed that I would learn to read when I went to school, just as my

sighted brothers had.



     I began my education in a public school that included a resource

room for blind students. These students were assigned to a regular

classroom where we spent most of our time, but we went to the resource

room for part of the day to learn the skills of blindness. I understand

that Dayton was one of the first cities in Ohio with a public school

program for blind children, beginning in the 1950's.



     In the first grade, when reading lessons began in earnest, I was

encouraged to read print. Various magnifiers were tried, but the only

thing that worked for me was to put my nose against the paper and hope

the print was big and dark enough. This worked fine with first grade

primers. However, I quickly read all the big print picture books at the

local library. My mom and I soon discovered that in second- and

third-level books the print quickly diminished in size to the point

where I could not distinguish the letters.



     My mother believed, like most sighted people (at least those who

are not blindness professionals), that blind people read Braille. So,

sensibly, she insisted that I be taught Braille. Fortunately the

resource room teachers agreed. I cannot be certain that it would be as

easy if I were in school today. I believe that very few blind students

in the Dayton area today are taught Braille.



     I had heard my mom and other adults read quickly and fluently, and

I assumed that I would read like that myself. I was never told that

Braille was slower or harder than reading print. I simply accepted that

I was learning to read with my fingers while my sighted classmates

learned to read with their eyes.



     One of the best things about the school I attended was that it had

a Braille library. Never since then have I had access to a library where

I could browse to my heart's content. I took home a different book

almost every night. My favorites were biographies and the Little House

series by Laura Ingalls Wilder. On the forty-five-minute drive to and

from school I would often read aloud to Mom. She endured a lot of

stumbling and mispronunciation with patience and good humor. From those

earliest days I received a lot of praise from my parents, grandparents,

and other people for my reading and writing ability. I knew that I read

as well as or better than most of my classmates, and this knowledge

helped lay a solid foundation of self-esteem that has served me well in

the years since, when faced with new challenges.



     In the fifth grade a significant challenge came along in the form

of the slate and stylus. By this time I was attending school in my own

district with an itinerant teacher who came to work with me a couple of

times a week.  She told me that I needed to learn to use the slate and

stylus because I would soon be going to junior high and I couldn't lug a

heavy, noisy Brailler with me from class to class.



     I absolutely hated the slate. My e's and i's were inevitably

transposed, and I invariably put the paper in crooked. I pretty much

refused to practice, so my itinerant and classroom teachers got together

and decided that I would be required to take spelling tests using the

state and stylus. I always did well on my spelling tests, so I wasn't

very happy with this new development. Gradually, however, I didn't have

to reverse each letter consciously before writing it. My speed picked

up, and my diagonal lines became horizontal. Since then I have written

thousands of pages with the slate and stylus.



     When I was in high school, closed circuit televisions began to

become affordable and popular. It was very exciting to be able to read

things that were only available in print, like the covers of my record

albums. I spent one whole summer reading a 500-page novel that I could

have read in about three days in Braille, because that was what all my

friends were reading.



     I knew, however, that the CCTV was no substitute for Braille. I'm

almost glad that the CCTV was not available when I was in first grade

because I don't know if Braille would then have been emphasized in my

education. During my first two years in college my sight gradually

decreased to the light perception I have today. Although I had to make

some adjustments, already having well-developed Braille skills helped

immensely.



     In high school nearly all of my textbooks, including advanced math

and French, were in Braille. In contrast, all of my college texts were

on tape. By this time, though, I was familiar with spelling,

punctuation, and the Braille literary and math codes. I took copious

notes while listening to the texts and studied these at exam time rather

than having to re-skim the entire book.



     I have read that ninety-one percent of employed blind people know

Braille. I am not at all surprised by this statistic. I am only

surprised that so few educators and counselors of the blind seem to

recognize the importance of Braille to employment. I cannot imagine

being competitive without Braille.



     Today I direct the Dayton criminal justice program of the American

Friends Service Committee, a Quaker organization. My activities range

from leading workshops and presentations in prison and the community to

advocating for criminal justice reform. I use Braille every day to keep

track of phone numbers, file away relevant statistics, make outlines for

talks, draft articles, and much more.



     Like most non-profits, we have a very small staff in our office.

For the most part we do our own filing, typing, and minute-taking. My

independence is greatly enhanced by the use of a scanner and other

adaptive computer technology, but I don't think it would be possible for

me to do my job at all without Braille. At meetings, workshops, and

presentations I always have my slate and stylus ready. Although prison

officials sometimes worry that my stylus could be turned into a weapon,

I always have my Braille notes with me and have given several impromptu

Braille lessons to interested prisoners.



     Since those early days Braille has opened many doors for me.

Reading is a source of great pleasure as well as information and

education. Braille writing allows me not only to keep track of personal

information but also to articulate and craft my thoughts into written

communication that can be shared with others. I cannot imagine my life

without Braille.



     I am currently studying to become certified as a Braille

transcriber and proofreader. I am deeply concerned by the lack of

Braille skills among the blind today and the shortage of qualified

Braille teachers, both for blind children and for people who become

blind later in life. Perhaps someday I will have the opportunity to put

my love of Braille to good use by teaching others to read it.



               BRAILLE OR PRINT: WHY THE DEBATE?

                      by Jody W. Ianuzzi



     Editor's note: Let us begin by conceding that there really are

some legally blind children who are appropriately being taught to read

print. If the child can truly engage in sustained reading of normal

print in most light with comfort, and if the strong likelihood is that

the youngster's vision will remain stable, there is no sensible argument

for insisting that Braille be taught unless the child or parents wish to

have it done. But there are thousands of blind adults today (and our

numbers are growing) who deeply regret that no one required us to learn

Braille at a period in our lives when mastering it would have been

relatively easy.



     Many parents and children, wrestling with the denial that is an

inevitable part of coming to terms with significant vision loss, cling

to the presence of whatever tiny amount of residual sight there may be

as an indication that their worst fears at least have not come to pass.

To the public mind blindness is synonymous with helplessness,

hopelessness, and incompetence. Facing their children's blindness for

the first time, parents, who are after all members of the general

public, can be forgiven for reacting out of ignorance and on incorrect

information.



     The betrayal of blind children that is harder for knowledgeable

blind adults to forgive is that of many special education teachers who

should know better. But even here we must remember that they too are the

product of their past inadequate education and their current

environment. These educators are not the first professionals to confuse

correlation with causation: given a choice between learning print and

Braille, children with residual sight will usually choose print. The

conclusion to which virtually every teacher incompletely trained in

Braille is eager to jump is that the cause of this behavior is the

difficulty and complexity of Braille. Or again, offered the chance to be

excused from doing assignments in Braille, blind children will almost

always opt for less work. The conclusion is that Braille is slow and

inefficient. The actual cause in both these examples is that blind

youngsters are normal kids, who like to be a part of the gang and who

are delighted to get out of homework whenever possible.



     A little honest reflection about this situation suggests that the

real culprit here is the inadequate and inappropriate education of the

special education teachers, most of whom are not competent or confident

themselves in using Braille and who also believe that their students

should not be expected to compete successfully in school or in life.



     We of the National Federation of the Blind know just how damning

and demeaning such a wholesale dismissal of blind students really is.

There are too many studies of children's conforming exactly to their

teachers' expectations for us to observe this phenomenon with unconcern.

Recognition of what is happening to today's blind students fuels the

Federation's state-by-state effort to require teacher competence in

Braille reading and writing for those educators devoting their careers

to teaching blind and visually impaired students. We must take every

opportunity to educate and encourage good teachers about what they can

do to assist and support their blind students, and we must confront

those who would dismiss our efforts to improve the educational

possibilities for these youngsters.



     Jody Ianuzzi is the President of the Monadnock Chapter of the

National Federation of the Blind of New Hampshire. She knows first-hand

about limited opportunities and disappointed expectations. She is

articulate and outspoken, and her message is compelling. Here is what

she has to say about teaching Braille to children with a little residual

vision: 



     Literacy has become a fashionable issue in the United States

today. So many people have slipped through the educational system unable

to read that it has become an embarrassment to their educators. Most of

these people hid their illiteracy from their teachers or simply dropped

out of school at an early age. This situation exists all across the

country, but what about the one student population illiterate due to the

decisions and actions of their teachers? These students are the blind

children of America.



     I would like to address the resource and itinerant teachers with

the adult voice of their students:



     I consider myself to have been functionally illiterate for most of

my life! When I was growing up as a blind child in the public school

system in Connecticut, I didn't have to learn Braille; I could read

print. I was a high partial, and with my nose in the book I could read

my first grade primer. It was work, but I could make out the letters. By

the fourth grade the print began to get smaller, so I had to try even

harder. In the seventh grade I was assigned to remedial reading classes

because my reading speed was still at the third grade level. In high

school I got all my work done; it just took me four times as long as my

classmates. I loved learning, and I wove wonderful dreams for myself of

academic success after high school. 



     I went off to college, but instead of succeeding, I fell flat on

my face! There was no way I could keep up with the work load using the

reading skills I had been taught. My totally blind friends had little

trouble taking notes, reading, organizing their readers, etc. I told

myself that I should have done better than they; after all I had some

vision. But the fact was that I couldn't study as a sighted student, and

I didn't have the skills to study as a blind one.



     When I was a child, I had an itinerant teacher. She came to visit

once or twice a week to help me with my class work and to evaluate my

progress. I remember that she spent the majority of her time tutoring me

when I fell behind. My mother was upset because the totally blind

students always had priority over the partials. We got the teacher's

left-over time. We weren't really blind, but we weren't really sighted

either.



     I am thirty-eight years old, and I am now learning Braille. It

isn't a difficult task; memory is reinforced by using the signs. I love

Braille! My reading time and speed are not limited as they are in print.

I find Braille to be a refreshing experience with endless possibilities.



     Reading print has always been like trying to listen to music on a

distant radio station: the sound is so faint and there is so much static

that it is hard to appreciate the music itself because listening is so

much work. Reading Braille is more like sitting in a symphony hall. The

music fills you without your even having to work. My well-meaning

teachers thought they had made the right decision for me. Oh how I wish

I had learned Braille as a child.



     My story is not unique or exceptional. Hundreds, perhaps

thousands, of blind adults now recognize that they missed out on a

proper education. Perhaps this is because the retrolental fibroplasia

generation (people born prematurely after World War II and exposed to

too much oxygen in incubators) was the first to attend public school in

numbers, and the methods of educating blind children who did not attend

residential schools had not been established. Itinerant teachers of

blind children were pursuing a brand new specialty. Now the next

generation of blind students is attending public school, but the methods

of teaching them haven't improved over the years. Instead, some of the

misguided attitudes and ideas that were born in the infancy of this new

profession have been institutionalized as established methods. When I

was a student, fifty-two percent of blind students were learning

Braille; now less than ten percent of blind children are doing so.

Clearly illiteracy is increasing.



     I was recently a speaker at a conference for itinerant teachers of

blind children, where I attended a seminar on the subject, Braille or

print for low vision students. I left this seminar feeling bitter, not

for my own experience (I am changing that), but for the blind children

of today. There are blind children with less vision than I have who are

being taught print only. Their teachers believe that they are making the

right decision. These children will be able to get by using their

vision, but they will never be able to compete successfully with their

peers.



     The impression I got from listening to these teachers of blind

children is that they perceive Braille to be a difficult system to

learn. Imagine what would happen if music teachers decided not to teach

their students to read music because they had come to believe that

musical notation was too difficult to learn, much less to teach. How

much music would students learn to play if their music teachers couldn't

read the notes? Unfortunately, not very many teachers of blind children

are fluent in reading and writing Braille themselves. No wonder so few

blind youngsters are mastering the code. 



     Blind children are like all others; they don't want to appear

different. If they are given a choice, they prefer print because their

friends read print. But a low-vision child already looks different while

struggling to read with his or her nose inching across the page,

collecting printer's ink. Wouldn't teachers do better helping to instill

confidence in their blind students as competent Braille readers instead

of insisting that they become poor print ones? Sighted children are

delighted to learn about Braille, but they have little understanding or

compassion for the poor print reader, who can't keep up with them. The

sooner the blind child realizes that it is no big deal to be different,

the easier his or her life will be. 



     At this conference I was also told that the low-vision child might

not want to learn Braille and that it is impossible to teach these kids

what they don't want to learn. Suppose a sighted child didn't want to

learn print, or the music student didn't want to learn musical notation;

what would the teacher's response be? how much can any children be

expected to learn if they are permitted to impose their own preferences

on their early instruction in the fundamentals?



     I believe that unconsciously teachers of blind students give

children a choice posed like this: which will it be? the easy,

acceptable, right way to learn, using print, or the difficult,

different, old-fashioned way of reading, using Braille. Given any choice

in the matter at all, which would any child select?  Why can't teachers

make Braille special in a positive way? Braille was originally based on

a system devised by the French army to send secret messages at night.

The night writing was later perfected by Louis Braille for use by the

blind. Why not give children the feeling that they are learning a secret

code? The blind child can read in many places where his or her sighted

friends can't: under the covers without the use of a flashlight, in the

car traveling at night. You can read Braille books without people

reading over your shoulder. You can even read your Braille book in your

desk without your teacher knowing it. Why not make Braille fun!



     The debate at this conference included discussion of the question

whether or not a blind child could learn print and Braille at the same

time. Wouldn't the child become confused? But the two systems don't

compete for the same space in the brain. Can a child learn to use a

calculator and a touch telephone at the same time? The two keyboards are

reversed, but children don't find this confusing. The child knows that

one is a phone, the other a calculator. I know a two-year-old who is

learning English and German from her bilingual parents. She is having no

difficulty learning the differences. If children can learn these things

simultaneously, why should educators draw the line at learning Braille

and print at the same time?



     Many teachers believe that there are so many new high-tech aids

available for blind children that it is no longer necessary to teach

them the out-dated system of Braille. But how practical are some of

these  expensive, bulky devices like the closed circuit television when

a child has to use it in a very limited and special environment? Will

such devices be useful for obtaining all the information the child

needs? Braille is portable, lightweight, and versatile.



     The slate and stylus and the Brailler are simple, low-tech

devices, but if you want to consider high-tech, portable equipment, the

Braille 'n Speak and the Braille Mate are excellent note-taking and

computer interface devices. These aids were never mentioned at this

conference. The only aids discussed were those that depended on some

limited sight.



     There are many tools available for use by blind people, and none

should be relied on exclusively or ignored. Each has its own place. Just

as a carpenter needs many tools to build a house, a blind person can use

many tools to acquire information. The Optacon, for example, is a slow

but useful device for reading mail, and there are many other technical

aids to assist a child who cannot use print efficiently and comfortably.

But just as a carpenter can't be expected to build a house using only a

hammer, no one tool should be used as the single device to help a blind

child. 



     Conducting an evaluation to determine the reading method for a

child is usually done under ideal reading conditions and in short

periods of time. Is it reasonable to expect that a child will always

have ideal lighting for reading and writing? How long can the child read

before headaches or eye strain make it impossible to continue? Does the

eye strain of reading contribute to increased eye problems? For example,

when I was growing up, we didn't realize that my straining to read was

inducing acute glaucoma attacks which have further decreased my vision.

First and foremost a reading method should be comfortable and enjoyable

to the reader. How much would you read if it always hurt or was always

work?



     When selecting a reading method, it is natural to think of the

primary use to which we put it, reading books. But there are many other

applications for reading and writing that have to be considered in

choosing the most efficient method. Taking notes in class, doing

research, labeling, maintaining recipes, filing addresses: these are all

examples of the way we use reading. Thus, someone who can read print to

a limited degree might not use print for note taking because of the

amount of time it takes to write legibly or to decipher the notes later.

In this example Braille would be faster. Labeling in Braille is more

practical in many cases simply because it is impossible to get close to

the labeled items to see them or to shine enough light on the print to

read itthe back of an appliance or an array of canned goods on a

storage shelf, for example. Blind children may not be dealing with these

problems now, but they will as adults. The very purpose of education is

to prepare youngsters for what they will face in the future!



     One can reasonably ask whether today's older blind students are

being taught how to order their own books from Recording for the Blind

and whether they are learning to hire, supervise, and use readers for

study and research in preparation for college. Blind students must know

how to balance their schedules to accommodate their special study needs,

whatever they happen to be. If blind students are to compete

successfully in college and in life, all these are necessary skills.



     I told conference participants about my experience as a low-vision

student and about how I was learning Braille as an adult. Without

thinking of the implications of her statement, one itinerant teacher

turned to me and said, "If you're learning Braille, then good luck!"

Too many teachers of the visually impaired are limited by their own

visual perception of the world. If they woke up tomorrow with low

vision, many would try to funnel all the information they need through

woefully inefficient eyes rather than learning to maximize their

unimpaired senses. It is past time for them to think blind and not be

limited by their vision.





     If I could speak directly to open-minded teachers, I would say to

them: when you evaluate your students, don't just think of how they are

coping at the present; think ahead. What will happen to your students in

college and as adults? Are you giving them all the skills they need to

prosper in life, or will they have to be content with just getting by?

Remember, if that is their fate, it will not have been because of their

blindness but because they lacked the skills they needed to conduct

their lives effectively as blind people. Ask yourselves this question:

in twenty years will your students be grateful to you for teaching them

the skills they needed, or will they be learning them on their own and

trying to make up for lost time?



                      THE CHANCE TO READ

                         by Eric Duffy



     Editor's Note: Eric Duffy is Director of Field Services for the

National Federation of the Blind of Ohio. He and his wife Tracy live in

Columbus and are expecting their first child. Braille is deeply

important to both the Duffys, but there was a time when it looked as

though Eric would be denied the right to learn it. Here is his story:



     As a young child I enjoyed being read to. Whenever I could

persuade anyone to sit down with me and a book, I was delighted. I

particularly remember Peter Rabbit; The Cat in the Hat; and of course

the classic, Mother Goose. When we were very small, my little sister

Barb and I would pick up our books and pretend that we were reading.

Sometimes we read to ourselves, and sometimes we read aloud to anyone

who would listen.



     I memorized things quickly, so pretending to read was easy for me.

Barb could pick up any book and, by looking at the pictures, tell the

story. I knew, however, that it wouldn't be long before Barb would no

longer be pretending. She would be able to read books, newspapers, and

everything elsejust as the rest of our family could.



     Eventually the day came when Barb began to read. She began to

recognize the letters of the alphabet and then to sound out words. That

is when I began to recognize that my blindness really might be a

problem. I was the big brother, and I should have started reading before

she did. I began asking my parents a lot of questions: how am I going to

read?  Am I going to go to school?



     My parents explained that I was going to go to a special school

for blind children. They said that I would learn to read and write

Braille. Of course, I had no idea what Braille was. In order to give me

some notion of the code, my mom punched small holes into a sheet of

paper with a pencil. Obviously, these holes made no sense to either of

us, but at least I was comforted by the knowledge that I was going to

learn to read.



     The time came when my mother took me to the Ohio State School for

the Blind. I was given a variety of tests, most of which I do not

remember. However, what my parents and the school officials did with the

results of these tests might well, under other circumstances,  have had

a dramatically negative effect on the rest of my life. Because I have

mild cerebral palsy, my parents were told that I would probably never

learn to read and write Braille.



     But when I started school, I did not know that I was not supposed

to be able to read and write Braille. No one bothered to tell me what I

could not or would not want to do, and I can only assume that my

first-grade teacher chose to ignore the pronouncements of the experts.

She simply gave me the opportunity to learn to read and write with the

rest of my class. I started school in April, and by June I was reading

and writing as well as anyone else in my class.



     Today I use Braille in every aspect of my life. At home I label

food items, cassettes, and compact discs. Braille reading is essential

for playing board games such as Scrabble and card games such as Euchre.

On the job I use Braille for note taking, writing down telephone

numbers, and labeling file folders. I cannot even begin to name all the

ways in which I use Braille at home and on the job.



     Today I take my ability to read and write Braille for granted. But

it frightens me to realize that I was almost denied the opportunity to

learn it.  What follow are the comments of the clinic evaluation team of

the Ohio State School for the Blind:  "Eric was a very cooperative boy

who had difficulty walking. Although he has some vision, it does not

appear to be adequate for reading any fine print. Developing usable

Braille skills may be rather difficult for Eric because of his poor

manipulative skills. His chief channel of learning will most likely be

the auditory channel. Eric exhibits readiness for a beginning program

for visually handicapped children."



Educational Specialist



     This evaluation almost led to my not learning Braille. I know for

certain that there are blind students today who are not learning Braille

because of evaluation results like mine. My plea to parents and

educators alike is this:  give your children a chance to learn Braille.

It is better to err on the side of Braille instruction than to deny any

child the opportunity to read.



           REFLECTIONS OF A LIFELONG BRAILLE READER

                      by Kenneth Jernigan



     Editor's note: Kenneth Jernigan is the President Emeritus of the

National Federation of the Blind. He has dedicated his life to improving

the lives of blind people in this country and around the world. He is

also a voracious reader. I have seen him pace a room, reading Braille

aloud to his listeners. I have watched him scan Braille material at an

unbelievable speed and read silently far faster than he could speak. In

short, Braille is for him as useful a tool as print is to his sighted

wife. How did he develop such excellent Braille skills? He read as a

small child, read as much and as often as he could, and he kept on

reading as he grew up. In short, he became a good reader in the same way

that print readers become proficient. The following are some of Dr.

Jernigan's recollections of his early days as a reader:



     When I was a boy growing up in Tennessee, Braille was hard to come

by. At the Tennessee School for the Blind (where I spent nine months of

each year) Braille was rationed. In the first grade we were allowed to

read a book only during certain hours of the day, and we were not

permitted to take books to our rooms at night or on weekends. Looking

back, I suppose the school didn't have many books, and they probably

thought (perhaps correctly) that those they did have would be used more

as missiles than instruments of learning if they let us take them out.



     When we advanced to the second grade, we were allowed (yes,

allowed) to come down for thirty minutes each night to study hall. This

was what the "big boys" did. In the first grade we had been

ignominiously sent to bed at seven o'clock while our elders (the second

and third graders and those beyond) were permitted to go to that

mysterious place called study hall. The first graders (the "little

boys") had no such status or privilege.



     When we got to the third grade, we were still not permitted to

take books to our rooms, but we were allowed to increase our study hall

time. We could actually spend a whole hour at it each night, Monday

through Friday. It was the pinnacle of status for the primary grades.



     When we got to the intermediate department (the fourth, fifth, and

sixth grades), we were really growing up, and our status and prestige

increased accordingly. We were allowed (I use the word

advisedly"allowed," not "forced") to go for an hour each night Monday

through Friday to study hall, and during that time we could read books

and magazines to our hearts' content. True, the choice was not greatbut

such as there was, we could read it. Of course we could not take books

to our rooms during the week, but on Friday night each boy (I presume

the girls had the same privilege) could take one Braille volume to his

room for the weekend.



     Before I go further, perhaps I had better explain that comment

about the girls. The girls sat on one side of the room, and the boys sat

on the other; and woe to the member of one sex who tried to speak or

write notes to a member of the other. Girls, like Braille books, were

difficult to get atand all the more desirable for the imagining. But

back to the main thread.



     As I say, each boy in the intermediate department could check out

one Braille volume on Friday night. Now, as every good Braille reader

knows, Braille is bulkier than print; and at least four or five Braille

volumes (sometimes more) are required to make a book. It is also a

matter of common knowledge that people in general and boys in particular

(yes, and maybe girls, too) are constantly on the lookout to beat the

system. What system? Any system.



     So on Friday nights we boys formed what would today be called a

consortium.  One of us would check out volume one of a book; the next,

volume two; the next, volume three; et cetera. With our treasures hugged

to our bosoms we would head to our rooms and begin reading. If you got

volume three (the middle of the book), that's where you started. You

would get to the beginning by and by. Now girls and Braille books were

not the only items that were strictly regulated in the environment I am

describing. The hours of the day and night fell into the same category.

Study hall ended at 8:00, and you were expected to be in your room and

in bed by 9:40, the time when the silence bell rang. You were also

expected to be trying to go to sleep, not reading.



     But as I have said, people like to beat the system; and to us

boys, starved for reading during the week, the hours between Friday

night and Monday morning were not to be wasted. (Incidentally, I should

say here that there were usually no radios around and that we were

strictly forbiddenon pain of expulsion and God knows what elseto leave

the campus except for a brief period on Saturday afternoonafter we got

big enough, that is, and assuming we had no violations on our record

which required erasure by penalty.) In other words the campus of the

Tennessee School for the Blind was what one might call a closed ecology.

We found our entertainment where we could.



     Well, back to Friday night and the problem of the books. Rules are

rules, but Braille can be read under the covers as well as anywhere

else; and when the lights are out and the sounds of approaching

footsteps are easy to detect, it is virtually impossible to prohibit

reading and make the prohibition stick. The night watchman was regular

in his rounds and methodical in his movements. He came through the halls

every sixty minutes on the hour, and we could tell the time by his

measured tread. (I suppose I need not add that we had no clocks or

watches.)



     After the watchman had left our vicinity, we would meet in the

bathroom and discuss what we had been reading. We also used the occasion

to keep ourselves awake and exchange Braille volumes as we finished

them. It made for an interesting way to read a book, but we got

thereand instead of feeling deprived or abused, we felt elated. We were

beating the system; we had books to read, something the little boys

didn't have; and we were engaged in joint clandestine activity.

Sometimes as the night advanced, one of us would go to sleep and fail to

keep the hourly rendezvous, but these were minor aberrationsand the

weekend was only beginning.



     After breakfast on Saturday morning some of us (not all) would

continue readingusually aloud in a group. We kept at it as long as we

could, nodding off when we couldn't take it any more. Then we went at it

again. Let me be clear. I am talking about a general pattern, not a

rigid routine. It did not happen every weekend, and even when it did,

the pace was not uniform or the schedule precise. We took time for such

pleasantries as running, playing, and occasional rock fights. We also

engaged in certain organized games, and as we grew older, we

occasionally slipped off campus at night and prowled the town.

Nevertheless, the reading pattern was a dominant theme.



     Time, of course, is inexorable; and the day inevitably came when

we outgrew the intermediate department and advanced to high

schoolseventh through twelfth grades. Again it meant a change in

statusa change in everything, of course, but especially reading. Not

only could we come to study hall for an hour each night Monday through

Friday and take a Braille volume to our room during weekends, but we

could also check out Braille books whenever we liked, and (within

reason) we could take as many as we wanted.



     Let me now go back once more to the early childhood years. Before

I was six, I had an isolated existence. My mother and father, my older

brother, and I lived on a farm about fifty miles out of Nashville. We

had no radio, no telephone, and no substantial contact with anybody

except our immediate neighbors. My father had very little formal

education, and my mother had left school just prior to graduating from

the eighth grade. Books were not an important part of our family

routine. Most of the time we did not have a newspaper. There were two

reasons: our orientation was not toward reading, and money was scarce.

It was the early thirties. Hogs (when we had any) brought two cents a

pound; and anything else we had to sell was priced proportionately.



     I did a lot of thinking in those preschool days, and every time I

could, I got somebody to read to me. Read what? Anythinganything I

could get. I would nag and pester anybody I could find to read me

anything that was availablethe Bible, an agriculture yearbook, a part

of a newspaper, or the Sears Roebuck catalog. It didn't matter. Reading

was magic. It opened up new worlds.



     I remember the joya joy which almost amounted to reverence and

awewhich I felt during those times I was allowed to visit an aunt who

had books in her home. It was from her daughter (my cousin) that I first

heard the fairy stories from The Book of Knowledgea treasure which many

of today's children have unfortunately missed. My cousin loved to read

and was long suffering and kind, but I know that I tried her patience

with my insatiable appetite. It was not possible for me to get enough,

and I always dreaded going home, finding every excuse I could to stay as

long as my parents would let me. I loved my aunt; I was fascinated by

the radio she had; and I delighted in her superb cookingabout the key

attraction was the reading. My aunt is long since dead, and of course I

never told her. For that matter, maybe I never really sorted it out in

my own mind, but there it wasno doubt about it.



     As I have already said, I started school at sixand when I say

six, I mean six. As you might imagine, I wanted to go as soon as I

could, and I made no secret about it. I was six in November of 1932.

However, school started in September, and six meant six. I was not

allowed to begin until the next quarter January of 1933.



     You can understand that, after I had been in school for a few

weeks, I contemplated with mixed feelings the summer vacation which

would be coming. I loved my family, but I had been away from home and

found stimulation and new experiences. I did not look forward to three

months of renewed confinement in the four-room farm house with nothing

to do.



     Then I learned that I was going to be sent a Braille magazine

during the summer months. Each month's issue was sixty Braille pages. I

would get one in June, one in July, and one in August. What joy! I was

six, but I had learned what boredom meantand I had also learned to

plan. So I rationed the Braille and read two pages each day. This gave

me something new for tomorrow. Of course I went back and read and

re-read it again, but the two new pages were always there for tomorrow.



     As the school years came and went, I got other magazines, learned

about the Library of Congress Braille and talking book collection, and

got a talking book machine. By the time I was in the seventh grade, I

was receiving a number of Braille magazines and ordering books from

three separate regional libraries during the summer. Often I would read

twenty hours a daynot every day, of course, but often. I read Gone With

the Wind, War and Peace, Zane Grey, Rafael Sabatini, James Oliver

Curwood, and hundreds of others. I read whatever the libraries sent me,

every word of it; and I often took notes. By then it was clear to me

that books would be my release from the prison of the farm and

inactivity. It was also clear to me that college was part of that

program and that somehow I was going to get there. But it was not just

escape from confinement or hope for a broader horizon or something to be

gained. It was also a deep, ingrained love of reading.



     The background I have described conditioned me. I did not feel

about reading the way I see most people viewing it today. Many of

today's children seem to have the attitude that they are "forced," not

"permitted," to go to schoolthat they are "required," not "given the

privilege and honor," to study. They are inundated with reading matter.

It is not scarce but a veritable clutter, not something to strive for

but to take for granted. I don't want children or the general public to

be deprived of reading matter, but I sometimes think that a scald is as

bad as a freeze. Is it worse to be deprived of books until you feel

starved, for them or to be so overwhelmed with them that you become

blase about it? I don't know, and I don't know that it will do me any

good to speculate. All I know is that I not only delight in reading but

believe it to be a much neglected joy and a principal passport to

success, perspective, civilization, and possibly the survival of the

species. I am of that group which deplores the illiteracy which

characterizes much of our society and distinguishes many of its would-be

leaders and role models. I am extremely glad I have had the opportunity

and incentive to read as broadly as I have, and I believe my life is so

much better for the experience that it borders on the difference between

living and existence.



                  BRAILLE TODAY AND TOMORROW

                    by Fredric F. Schroeder



     The following is an excerpt from an address delivered at the

annual conference of the California Transcribers and Educators of the

Visually Handicapped, March 14, 1992, by Fred Schroeder, then Director

of the New Mexico Commission for the Blind and President of the

International Council on English Braille and now Commissioner of the

U.S. Rehabilitation Services Administration. Dr. Schroeder is one of the

most knowledgeable and influential figures in the field of work with the

blind. Here in part is what he said to teachers and Braille transcribers

in the spring of 1992; it is still relevant:



     Much is happening nationally and internationally concerning

Braille. Certainly we live in a time when it is getting more emphasis,

which has resulted in greater availability and increased attention to

instruction. We must recognize what is cause and what effect. When

discussing Braille, it is easy to focus on the changes that have taken

place. But all of this increased attention is the natural outgrowth of a

growing conviction that literacy represents perhaps the most necessary

tool if blind people are to live full and productive lives. In other

words, the desire of and for blind people to function on terms of

equality has driven the move toward recognizing Braille literacy as a

vital step toward their meaningful integration.



     The activity surrounding Braille is in many respects dramatic and

encouraging. Here in the United States the Braille literacy movement can

be seen in many ways. Today ten states [the number has now risen to

twenty-five] have adopted Braille billsa public policy statement about

the legitimate role of Braille as a literacy tool for the blind. Five

years ago, when the first Braille bill was introduced, the idea was

controversial and sparked suspicion; resentment; and, in some cases,

open hostility. At that time Braille bills were regarded as a

condemnation of the education system for blind children and hence were

viewed as an attack on professionals in the field of work with the

blind.



     Today, only five years after passage of the first Braille bill,

the mood has changed. In many states parents, educators, and adult blind

people are coming together, not to debate whether a Braille bill should

be introduced, but to collaborate on the best way to craft the bill. In

addition to the requirement that Braille be considered by the IEP team,

two other elements have surfaced in more recent Braille bills. One is a

requirement for competency testing for teachers of blind children, and

the other, which was included in the Texas bill adopted in the summer of

'91, requires textbook publishers to make materials available in a

machine-readable format for easy translation into Braille.



     The stimulus for the introduction of Braille bills was a shared

conviction that our nation has produced a generation of virtually

illiterate blind children due to the lack of Braille instruction. Many

things contributed to this problem, not the least of which was the

mainstreaming movement itself. With a nationwide shortage of trained

teachers and with children more widely distributed throughout local

schools, teachers were faced with the very real problem of choosing

print or Braille instruction for a child they were scheduled to see only

an hour or two a week. The temptation to favor the print medium, with

which they were more familiar, was compounded by a mindset that presumed

print reading was superior to Braille. In the 1970's educators came to

regard Braille implicitly or explicitly as an antiquated tool for

reading. Many felt that new technology would make Braille obsolete, so

there was little motivation for teachers to learn the code and even less

to teach it.



     But a generation of illiterate children has stimulated a

counterforce bent on changing this direction before another generation

is lost. It is not surprising that we are now hearing a call for better

preparation of teachers as well as competency testing to insure that

those charged with the education of blind children are themselves

competent to provide instruction in Braille reading and writing.

Ironically, although fifteen years ago the experts believed that

technology would make Braille obsolete, in fact the opposite has proven

to be true. With an increased emphasis on Braille, technology has been

applied to the problem, the effect being greater availability of Braille

than ever before.



     It is not surprising that increasing attention has been focused on

Braille literacy since literacy generally has become a central topic in

America today. The need for blind youngsters to be literate is in many

ways self-evident. Literacy for these children, as for sighted ones, is

vital to their competing successfully in an increasingly demanding world

market. A command of the English language and the ability to read and

write are essential to everyone for effective communication. Yet as I

prepared for this afternoon's presentation, I had a sense that for me as

a blind person the importance of literacy took on a dimension which

transcended the readily recognizable importance of being literate. I

could not help feeling that the role of Braille in my personal life and

its absolute importance to me were somehow connected to the

cause-and-effect relationships outlined earlier, which have resulted in

the current emphasis on Braille.



     I have a personal and deep-seated loyalty to Braille, not simply

because it affords me the ability to read and write. For me Braille is

part of my liberation from a debilitating mindset and a body of beliefs

premised on the assumption of limitation and hopelessness. Braille

allows me to organize my work, to jot down an address, or to read a

recipe; but it also represents the tangible expression of the truth of

the principle that, given training and opportunity, blind people can

function competitively in society.



     When I was seven years old, I became legally blind. Over the next

nine years my vision gradually decreased. During this time I was not

taught Braille; however, this was also during the period which has come

to be known as the sightsaving era. This concept was based on the belief

that to use remaining vision would cause it to decrease. For this reason

I was not allowed to read print while simultaneously being discouraged

from reading Braille. The real tragedy was that as a child I already had

deeply ingrained negative attitudes about blindness. I equated it with

inferiority and therefore wanted nothing to do with Braille or any other

skills which blind people use. As my vision decreased, I fell into a

pattern of believing that what I could not see, I could not do.

Blindness for me represented helplessness, and my fear of blindness had

prevented me from learning the skills which would have allowed me to

function. My lack of literacy meant that I had no means by which to read

and write, but additionally it contributed to my fundamental feelings of

inadequacy and isolation.



     After becoming totally blind, I can remember a hospital social

worker bringing me a Braille watch. I vividly remember struggling to

distinguish the dots on the face of the watch and finding it virtually

impossible to distinguish between the hour hand and the minute hand, but

in a short time I had managed to learn how to read my watch quickly and

accurately and by so doing experienced a sense of exhilaration. While I

was not yet truly reading, that experience sparked my recognition that

as a blind person I was not entirely helplessdependent on those around

me for even the most basic information. Rather than representing my most

negative fears about blindness, Braille started to be a means of

liberation. For the first time I began to view my limitations as

stemming from my lack of training rather than from my lack of eyesight.

For the first time a technique associated with blindness became a source

of pride, and I began to understand that perhaps I could function

competitively as a blind person using alternative techniques. 



     While I was in college, I had an experience which represented a

milestone in my life. In the Fall of 1974 here in Los Angeles, I

attended a convention of the National Federation of the Blind. There I

was first exposed to blind people who were living active, normal lives.

I met blind people who were holding professional jobs, buying their own

homes, and raising families, all of which I had believed were

unattainable for me as a blind person. Rather than fitting my

preconception of what life as a blind person must be, these men and

women were living rich and fulfilling lives, competing effectively in

society. These were people I could admire and whom I wished to be like.

A man who stands out in my mind was Lawrence (Muzzy) Marcelino. When I

met him, he asked my name, and I can remember his reaching into his

pocket and pulling out a slate and stylus to take down my address and

phone number. This seemingly small act was nevertheless significant in

my life. Muzzy's use of the slate and stylus represented literacy, but

it also represented a shaking off of societal stereotypes about

blindness. Muzzy believed he could function competitively and so quite

naturally put his beliefs into practice. I, on the other hand, was just

awakening to the realization that my fears and misconceptions about

blindness were driving my actions and hence were primarily responsible

for my inability to compete. Braille for me came to represent literacy

in my life with all the advantages normally associated with literacy.

The element that I regard as most crucial is that Braille also came to

symbolize tangible proof of my ability to live a normal life.



     The decline in Braille use in our country over the past two

decades is nothing less than a tragedy. Children growing up during this

period have suffered lost opportunities by having inadequate ability to

read and write, compounded by lowered self-esteem and diminished

expectations. You in this room have contributed in an important way to

reversing this trend, helping blind children reach their true potential

through the teaching and producing of Braille. Your efforts have helped

many attain literacy and, through it, increased opportunity. 



     In this room this afternoon is a young woman who grew up in

California and received special education services through the public

schools. Although she was diagnosed with retinitis pigmentosa, the

conventional wisdom of the time indicated that she had too much vision

to be taught Braille. By the time she graduated from high school, she

was no longer able to read print; yet she had no alternate means of

reading and writing. Through ingenuity and hard work she managed to get

through college with good grades, while paying a severe price in damaged

self-confidence. Fortunately for her, she recognized her need for

training. After completing college, she entered the Louisiana Center for

the Blind for six months of intensive training in Braille, cane travel,

and the other skills of blindness. I remember listening to a

presentation she made shortly after completing her training. After

having read Braille for only six months, she read Braille faster than

she had ever been able to read print. So Braille represented both

literacy and freedom to her.



     The movement toward increased emphasis on Braille is gathering

momentum; and, as with all social change, events are driving other

events. To understand the cause-and-effect relationship which has

resulted in today's Braille movement, we must first understand that

Braille symbolizes both literacy and a change in our own attitudes about

blindness. At first glance it seems obvious that two decades of

diminished literacy has provided the driving force for today's Braille

renaissance. Yet exploring further discloses that the fundamental shift

in our attitudes about blindness has made diminished literacy for blind

people intolerable. If we expect very little from blind people, then

illiteracy, rather than a problem requiring solution, is accepted as a

natural situation, consistent with our low expectations.



     The Braille movement today is not simply a response to the

condition of illiteracy. It is also the outgrowth of the very positive

influence of changing social attitudes. With increased expectations for

ourselves as blind people, we expand our potential. As we believe we can

do more, we naturally look for the tools necessary to translate our

beliefs into action. As teachers and producers of Braille, you have seen

the effects of your labor in the lives of those with whom you have

worked. As your efforts result in increased opportunities, your positive

perception of blindness and expectations for blind people are reinforced

and expanded.



     This change in our conception of blindness gives meaning to the

Braille movement. It gives purpose to the new initiatives aimed at

greater literacy. The new spirit of cooperation resulting in the

adoption of Braille bills, the development of NLS competency testing,

and the initiation of ventures with textbook publishers to make Braille

more available to school children is directly attributable to this

fundamental change in our conceptions. In North America it has led us to

undertake a project to study the idea of a unified literary and math

code.



     We can see the same spirit of cooperation internationally, and I

believe it can be explained by the same cause-and-effect relationship

between increased expectations and greater emphasis on Braille literacy.

The momentum which has developed may well result in a single

internationally recognized literary and math code. This same momentum

has already brought us to the threshold of an internationally

agreed-upon music code.



     Throughout this process mistakes will inevitably be made. Bad

decisions will be reached which will need to be reviewed and repaired.

Some changes will make Braille more awkward and less readable and will

perhaps result in real harm to people. Yet the momentum underway brings

the promise of true progress. Many years ago I remember being warned,

"If you are not making mistakes, then you are not doing anything." There

will be problems as progress is made, yet progress is clearly in

evidence.



     Braille has allowed me to unlock many doors. It has helped me

attain literacy and enabled me to shake off doubt and uncertainty in

myself. For this reason I thank you for your role in helping scores of

blind children to acquire the tools to reach their full potential.

Collectively we are part of the cause and effect relationship

stimulating change. Self-confidence and a changing perception of

blindness must be nourished by the success which comes from having the

ability to put that confidence into action. Your efforts and your

dedication have touched countless lives, sustaining the momentum in the

cycle of cause and effect, leading us closer to the promise of true

integration for the blind.



     BRAILLE--WHAT IS IT? WHAT DOES IT MEAN TO THE BLIND?



     Braille is a system of reading and writing by touch used by the

blind. It consists of arrangements of dots which make up letters of the

alphabet, numbers, and punctuation marks. The basic Braille symbol,

called the Braille cell, consists of six dots arranged in the formation

of a rectangle, three dots high and two across. Other symbols consist of

only some of these six dots. The six dots are commonly referred to by

number according to their position in the cell:



     There are no different symbols for capital letters in Braille.

Capitalization is accomplished by placing a dot 6 in the cell just

before the letter that is capitalized. The first ten letters of the

alphabet are used to make numbers. These are preceded by a number sign

which is dots 3-4-5-6:



     Thus, 1 is number sign a; 2 is number sign b; 10 is number sign

a-j and 193 is number sign a-i-c:



     Some abbreviations are used in standard American Braille in order

to reduce its bulk. These must be memorized, but most Braille readers

and writers find them convenient, rather than a problem. Braille is

written on heavy paper, and the raised dots prevent the pages from lying

smoothly together as they would in a print book. Therefore, Braille

books are quite bulky.



     Today there are three methods of writing Braille, just as there

are two methods of writing print. A Braille writing machine (comparable

to a typewriter) has a keyboard of only six keys and a space bar,

instead of one key for each letter of the alphabet. These keys can be

pushed separately or altogether. If they are all pushed at the same

time, they will cause six dots to be raised on the paper in the

formation of a Braille cell. Pushing various combinations of the keys on

the Braille writer produces different letters of the alphabet and other

Braille symbols.



     Writing Braille with a slate and stylus compares to writing print

with a pen or pencil. The stylus is used to push dots down through the

paper, while the slate serves as a guide. The Braille slate can be made

of metal or plastic and is hinged so that there is a guide under the

paper as well as on top of it. A person writing Braille with the slate

and stylus begins at the right side of the paper and ends the line on

the left, since the dots are being produced on the underside of the

paper. Of course, the Braille reader reads from left to right, for the

dots are then on the top side of the paper. Although this may seem a bit

confusing, it need not be at all troublesome, since both reading and

writing progress through words and sentences from beginning to end in

the same manner. The speed of writing Braille with the slate and stylus

is about the same as the speed of writing print with pen or pencil.



     Just as the personal computer has revolutionized writing in print

today, it is also possible to produce Braille more easily and quickly

than ever before. Assuming that the proper equipment is available, a

computer user can now send a document to a standard printer to produce a

paper copy in print or to a Braille embosser to produce the document in

Braille. And one need not even know Braille to create this miracle.



     Braille was first developed in the late 1820's by a young

Frenchman named Louis Braille. He created Braille by modifying a system

of night writing which was intended for military use. He did this work

as a very young man and had it complete by the time he was about

eighteen. He and his friends at the school for the blind found that

reading and writing dots was much faster than reading raised print

letters, which could not be written by hand at all. The development of

this system by young Louis Braille is now recognized as the most

important single development in making it possible for the blind to get

a good education.



     It took more than a century, however, before people would accept

Braille as an excellent way for the blind to read and write. Even today

many people underestimate the effectiveness of Braille. While tapes and

records are enjoyable, Braille is essential for note-taking and helpful

for studying such things as math, spelling, and foreign languages. It is

a matter of great concern to members of the National Federation of the

Blind that fewer blind people now have the opportunity to become good

Braille users than did twenty-five years ago.



     Why is this?  Many professionals in work with the blind stress

recorded media with blind children. Many people who become blind do so

in old age and are not encouraged to spend the time and make the effort

needed to develop the new reading and writing skills that depend on

feeling rather than seeing. There are even Braille teachers who do not

expect speed and accuracy of their blind students. As a result, the

students learn Braille as a chore and a drudgery.



     Experienced Braille readers, however, read Braille at speeds

comparable to print readers200 to 400 words a minute. Such Braille

readers say that the only limitation of Braille is that there isn't

enough material available. They want more books produced by Braille

presses, more books produced by volunteer Braillists in their homes, and

wider availability of computerized Braille production. 



     One of the goals of the National Federation of the Blind is to

help people appreciate Braille for the efficient system it is. The main

difference between print and Braille is simply that print is meant to be

read with the eyes, while Braille is meant to be read with the

fingertips. Fingers feel dots quickly and accurately; eyes see loops and

lines of ink. In both cases it is the brain that processes and reacts to

the raw data sent to it by the fingers or the eyes.



     This article was first written in Braille and transcribed into

print to answer the questions of sighted people who cannot read Braille.

If you have further questions about Braille or blindness, write to the

National Federation of the Blind, 1800 Johnson Street, Baltimore,

Maryland  21230.

CARE AND FEEDING OF THE LONG WHITE CANE:

Instructions in Cane Travel for Blind People

 

by 

Thomas Bickford



                       TABLE OF CONTENTS





Acknowledgements . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .   V

     Author's Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .VIII



1. Getting Yourself Ready. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .   2

     Why Should I Use This Thing That Makes Me Look Blind?   2

     Who Can Learn Cane Travel?. . . . . . . . . . . . . .   4



2.  Getting the Cane Ready . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .   7

     How Long Should the Cane Be?  . . . . . . . . . . . .   7

     What Should the Cane Be Made Of?  . . . . . . . . . .   9

     How and Where Do You Hold the Cane? . . . . . . . . .  11



3.  Actually Walking Around. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  13

     Walking with the Cane, Rule One . . . . . . . . . . .  13

     Planning Practice Routes  . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  14

     Going Up and Down Stairs. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  15

     Listening to Traffic on the Street as a Guide . . . .  16

     Which Way Can Cars Turn At Intersections? . . . . . .  18

     Environmental Clues and Mental Maps . . . . . . . . .  18

     Expanding Your Horizons . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  22

     One Dangerous Situation to Avoid  . . . . . . . . . .  24

     Crossing Big, Busy Intersections  . . . . . . . . . .  25

     What Goes Through My Mind While Walking Down a Street? 26

     Walking with Someone Else . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  30

     Walking Without a Cane. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  32



4.  Public Transportation. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  33

     Riding Buses and Streetcars . . . . . . . . . . . . .  33

     Subways, Escalators, and Elevators  . . . . . . . . .  37

     Airports, Train and Bus stations  . . . . . . . . . .  38



5.  Times and Places without the Usual Landmarks . . . . .  41

     Grocery Stores. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  41

     How Do You Walk in Ice, Snow, and Rain? . . . . . . .  42

     How About Suburban and Rural Roads with No Sidewalks?  43

     Are There Roads and Intersections Unsafe for Any Pedestrian?

           . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  44

     Picnics, Hiking, and Rough Country  . . . . . . . . .  45



6.  Care and Feeding of the Long White Cane. . . . . . . .  47

     Wash, Feed, and Dress Your Cane . . . . . . . . . . .  48

     Where Does the Cane Go When Not in Use? . . . . . . .  48

     Which Hand Do You Cane With?. . . . . . . . . . . . .  49



7.  Thoughts and Experiences on Cane Travel. . . . . . . .  50

     How Long Does It Take to Learn Cane Travel? . . . . .  50

     Can a Blind Person Teach Cane Travel? . . . . . . . .  53

     No One Has to Do Everything Perfectly . . . . . . . .  54

     What About Other Travel Aids, Dogs and Electronics? .  56



8.  Songs. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  57

     The White Cane Freedom March. . . . . . . . . . . . .  57

     The Lament of the Folding Cane. . . . . . . . . . . .  58



Sources of Canes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  59



BIBLIOGRAPHY . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  66



                       Acknowledgements



Virginia, Ann, and Barbara--my wife and daughters--make my life and work

worthwhile and possible.  Here are my love and support.



Dr. Kenneth Jernigan has for me, as for so many others, been my mentor

and guide.  He taught me what I know about blindness and showed me that

I could live a full life.  He also gave me comments on this booklet.



For their support, inspiration, and comments, I thank my friends in the

National Federation of the Blind:  Lloyd Rasmussen, Judy Rasmussen,

Debbie Brown, Arlene Hill, Sharon Duffy, and Mary Ellen Gabias.



Any writer needs to find and gain access to relevant material, and I was

helped by Norma Belt, my reader, and Carol Strauss, reference librarian.



I appreciate the discussions of shared experiences with Alan and Billie

Ruth Schlank.  As a beginning author, I appreciate the help in editing

offered by Carl Knoettner.  I thank my students who taught me as I was

teaching them.



                       About the Author



Thomas Bickford became blind at the age of seventeen from glaucoma.  Mr.

Bickford started using a cane during the summer between high school and

college because his sight was fading past the point of usefulness for

travel.  He learned some basic cane techniques from a fellow college

student.  After college, he attended the California Orientation Center

for the Blind where, among other things, he took formal instruction in

cane travel and met and joined the National Federation of the Blind. 

Mr. Bickford holds his B.A. degree from Occidental College, Los Angeles,

and his M.A. degree from the University of Iowa, Iowa City.  For the

past twenty-six years Mr. Bickford has worked for the Library of

Congress, National Library Service for the Blind and Physically

Handicapped in Washington, D.C.  He makes his home in suburban Maryland

with his wife and two daughters.  Since people ask how much a blind

traveler can see, Mr. Bickford speaks of himself as "very totally

blind."

                              TO



                     L. Q. "Larry" Lewis.



                     May he rest in peace 

                because I walk with confidence.

Author's Introduction



This booklet contains the experience and observations I have gained over

many years as a cane traveler.  My hope is to share these experiences

and observations with you.  But the booklet cannot go with you to say,

"You are doing that right, but you need to do it twenty-five or thirty

times, not just two or three times." It cannot say, "Swing your cane

farther to the left, but not quite so far to the right." The booklet

cannot follow you around the block to say, "Yes, this block really does

have four corners, but you were off course when you went around one of

the corners, and you didn't recognize it." The booklet cannot tell you

at which moment it is safe to cross a street, nor should it try to tell

you where particular obstacles are.  To become an independent traveler

you must, and I believe you can, learn to take care of yourself.  The

best thing this booklet can do for you is to help you come to the time

when you don't need it. 



A skilled and knowledgeable teacher might help you learn that

combination of skills that make up cane travel, and the process might go

faster.  Such a teacher could present new challenges at the right time

or help review persistent problems.  I think of this part of the process

as "guided practice," and it was very helpful to me.  If you had such a

teacher, you might not be reading this booklet, so let's get on with the

process. 







In avoiding the discomfort of fearful feelings you also eliminate the

opportunity for courageous actions, ... and the emotional maturity such

action develops.  If you happen to feel fear, and who doesn't, don't

duck it; use it. 

Nancy Mairs. Carnal Acts.  New York:  HarperCollins, 1991.



We should use technology only where it's necessary.  Throughout my

career in this field there have been flurries of interest in mobility

devices, and I've always felt that the ordinary cane, which is

technologically simple, is, in fact, very sophisticated and sufficient

for the job.

Raymond Kurzweil. Technology Producers Present Their Views:  the First

Panel, Remarks by Raymond Kurzweil.  The Braille Monitor, January, 1992,

p. 22.





CARE AND FEEDING OF THE LONG WHITE CANE:

Instructions in Cane Travel for Blind People



1. Getting Yourself Ready



Why Should I Use This Thing That Makes Me Look Blind?



One of the reasons that makes me qualified to ask this question and

offer an answer is that I asked myself this same question when I got my

first cane.  When I asked the lady who sold me the cane in the local

agency for the blind, "How do I use it," her answer was, "Any way you

like."



I was in my last year of high school then, losing sight slowly but

steadily, and we all know how high school students hate to look

"different."  As I walked with my parents across the street back to the

car, I pondered the more basic question, "Why use this cane at all?"



Through the National Federation of the Blind I learned that there are

two major schools of thought about what it means to be blind.  One

philosophy of blindness held by most people, including many blind

people, says that blindness is a disaster, a catastrophe.  I tell you

frankly and up front, if you decide that blindness is a disaster, it

will be for you.  It will dominate and ruin your life.  It will limit

your thoughts, your relationships and your achievements.



The NFB taught me the other philosophy of blindness, that blindness is a

physical characteristic, that with the right approach and with the right

kinds of training in dealing with the situations you meet in your daily

life, blindness can be reduced to a matter of nuisance value.  Some

nuisances are bigger than others, but blindness no longer has the power

to dominate and ruin your life.  But this learning was a few years in

the future, so back to my late teens.



I don't know anyone who wants to be blind.  I hated to admit that I was

blind, because it was a change in my self-image.  I still had that

majority view of blindness, that it was a terrible thing.  I knew that

the white cane identified me as a blind person, and I only thought of

this negative purpose.



The cane has a functional purpose, and that is what most of the rest of

this booklet is about.  I started carrying the cane because I was losing

more sight and running into too many things.  I just held it out in

front of me with an occasional swing to the side to check for landmarks. 

A few months later, I met a blind veteran who used a long cane and had

good travel skills.  He taught me enough to keep me going in limited

situations.



Another way to think of the cane is as a magic wand.  If you know

anything about magic tricks, you know that the magician must practice

for hours before going on stage for a performance.  The magic tricks

that you perform with the cane, threading your way past obstacles and

finding your destination, come with hours of practice.  I will tell you

how long it took me to learn, and it was well worth the time and effort. 

Now to return to the question of looking like a blind person.



The better I grew as a cane traveler, the less it bothered me to carry a

cane.  The better I grew as a cane traveler, the less people asked if I

wanted help.  The better I grew as a cane traveler, the less it bothered

me when people did offer help.  I knew where I was going, and it showed. 

I looked like a capable person.  A skillful blind traveler draws

attention in the same way that a beautiful woman or handsome man draws

attention.  People notice, admire for a moment, and then go on their way

as you go on yours.  But I would have found all that hard to believe at

the beginning.



There are times when it is appropriate for people to know that I am

blind.  The cane is a silent explanation when I enter a bank and ask

where the end of the teller's line is.  I give all my attention to

traffic when I cross streets, but I want the driver approaching the

corner to know that I am blind.  I try not to "wave the white cane" when

I could do things for myself, because that works against opening

opportunities for achievement in other areas of my life.  But that is

another chapter in the philosophy of blindness.



Who Can Learn Cane Travel?



Let's turn away from cane travel for a moment and consider swimming.  To

a non-swimmer or even an impartial observer who is standing on the

ground, the idea of swimming is foolish.  They might say, "Humans can't

do that.  We don't have air sacs along our spines like fish.  Our only

air sacs expand and contract with every breath."  



Have you ever seen or been a non-swimmer in the water, the way they

thrash around?  "Water is too thin.  It will not support you, and you

will soon drown."  Even if the observer sees someone else swimming, the

response is, "Maybe they can do it, but I couldn't.  And who would want

to do that, anyway?  I can go all the places I want to go my own way."



The only way to learn to swim is to actually get into the water.  Yes,

at first you do thrash around, and sink, and come up coughing with your

eyes and nose full of water.  It takes a while to learn how to relax the

right way to let the water support you.  Much of the skill in swimming

is in learning to cooperate with the water and to use its properties to

help you do what you want to do.



In every society there are skills that people are expected to learn and

to perform well.  Up until a hundred years ago native American men and

boys were expected to be skillful in the use of the bow and arrow. 

Allowing for individual variations, I am sure that most of them were

skillful.  



Since everyone eats, lots of people need to cook, and cooking is a skill

that many people can learn to a satisfactory degree.  There is another

factor involved in cooking, just as there was in the use of the bow and

arrow: separation by gender.  Women were not expected to shoot the bow

and arrow, and, even now, many men are not expected to cook.  



Early in my career I worked in a recreation center.  Near closing time

one day I remarked to one of the boys that I had to go home and cook my

dinner.  To him, that was a ridiculously funny idea, and all he could

say was, "Cooking is women's work!"  It was no good telling him that I

lived alone and had no one to cook for me.  This time, at least, it had

nothing to do with my blindness.



There is one thing that all American adults are expected to do, and that

is to drive a car.  There are a few parallels between any two forms of

transportation: noticing surroundings, keeping track of turns and

distances, and planning your destination and route.  Everyone is

expected to do these things.  They are basically the same if you are

going from one room to another, or from one city to another.  The

necessary skills are within everyone's range of abilities.  I base my

opinion on the fact that so many blind people do travel successfully. 

It takes training and practice, but that is to be expected.



People who can see are used to looking at everything they do, and so

they think they have to look in order to know and to do anything.  The

National Federation of the Blind is in the process of teaching people

that it is not so.  We expect blind people to learn how to do many

things.  We lead by example, and offer help along the way.  "Here is a

cane.  Tap it back and forth in front of you as you walk."  The cane,

itself, is a simple thing.  As you step most of what you need to know is

in your head, and that is as good as it ever was."



There is one essential thing that the student must bring to cane travel,

and that is the willingness to try.  Are there doubts?  I had many

doubts.  Are there fears?  I had my share of fears.  Is there confusion? 

I had handfuls of confusion.  Are there questions?  I had a list of

questions which I asked at the wrong times.  But along with my doubts,

fears, confusions and questions I brought a willingness to try.  Many

times I repeated lessons, but I kept trying.  If you have come this far

in the booklet, you can make it the rest of the way.  From here on, you

need take only a small step at a time, so give it a try.



                  2.  Getting the Cane Ready



How Long Should the Cane Be? 



I have slowly graduated from a cane that was 42 inches long to a cane

that is over 60 inches long.  I added a few inches every few years when

I bought a new cane.  I have not yet had a cane that was too long.  My

chin-high cane is barely long enough for me, now.  There are blind

people who use canes that reach their eyebrows. 



Once while I was teaching travel, it occurred to me that what mattered

was not where the cane came on your body, but where it reached in front

of you.  The speed of your pace and the length of your stride will make

a difference.  The cane needs to reach a good two steps in front of

where you are stepping.  As a practical matter, if you find yourself

overstepping the cane, dropping off curbs you didn't find, try a longer

cane. 



When you select a cane, start with one that comes into your armpit. 

Walk up to a blank wall, swinging the cane from side to side two inches

wider than the width of your shoulders.  As you step left, tap right; as

you step right, tap left.  When the cane hits the wall, complete the

step you are making, and take one more.  Was there space for that next

step?  If so, you have enough stopping distance.  If not, add another

two or four inches to the cane and try again.  I am not the only one who

needs the length of that second step for stopping distance.  



Remember that not all obstacles are found at the distance of the end of

the cane.  You find some things as the cane swings to the side after the

tip has passed them.  If part of the obstacle is above ground level,

such as a chair or a car, part of the cane will pass under it before

making contact, and you will be glad to have the added length.  You may

think that the longer the cane, the more it will get tangled up in

whatever is ahead of you, but that can happen with any length of cane.  



There is one other factor that I must consider for my cane: will it fit

in the family car?  The answer is: "Yes, but I have to work at it a

bit."  The way that is best for me is to bring the handle end in first

and push it back as far as possible between the seat and the side of the

car.  I try to get it under the seat belt anchor and as low as possible,

where it won't trip back seat passengers going in and out.  The last

thing is to make sure the tip end is in the car and not sticking out

between the door and the frame.  I am not the only person to destroy a

cane that way.  I am afraid I have made the process sound harder than it

is.  A couple of pushes and a pull get the cane in position, and it

takes less time than fastening a seat belt.



What Should the Cane Be Made Of? 



I have used canes made of wood, aluminum tubing, solid fiberglass,

fiberglass tubing, and carbon fiber compound tubing.  Each material has

different characteristics of strength, weight, and flexibility.  Each

one sounds different as it strikes the ground.  I have not used wooden

canes or canes with curved handles since the 1950's.  White support

canes are available for people who need a cane to lean on.



Aluminum tubing canes are relatively heavy and strong.  They do not

break.  If they are bent a little, they will straighten out.  With a

little more pressure, they will stay bent; very few people have the

coordinated strength to return aluminum canes to their original

condition.  Slightly bent canes may not look as pretty as straight ones,

but you can use them for a long time.  



Solid fiberglass canes (called rigid because they have no joints) are

both strong and flexible, and I like that combination of qualities. 

They weigh less than aluminum canes, and more than the next two hollow

canes.  Solid fiberglass will take quite a bend and still straighten. 

If they are bent past a certain point, they will split into long

splinters which are dangerous to touch.  The cane will probably get you

home in that condition, but beware the splinters.  



 Hollow fiberglass is lightweight and very easy to handle.  It has a

nice bounce to it, but will only take a moderate bend without breaking. 

That is, it may not withstand tripping someone.  When it breaks, hollow

fiberglass tends to crush and fall apart very soon.  



Carbon fiber canes are fairly stiff and have only a little bounce.  They

are light weight and easy to handle.  Compared to hollow fiberglass, the

carbon fiber cane is somewhat stronger and lasts a little longer after a

break.  



I do not know any cane that will withstand being caught in a car door

unscathed.  I keep a spare cane at home.



Let us consider folding canes.  Do not let yourself fall into the trap

of thinking you are hiding your blindness by using a folding cane. 

Also, for at least the duration of the learning stage, I strongly

recommend a one-piece cane.  There are many blind people who use a

folding cane all the time and find it fully satisfactory.  For several

years I was one of them.  The previous section on the length of the cane

should still be considered.  I often take my folding cane to church,

restaurants, theaters; places where it may not be as convenient to stow

the one-piece cane. 



Many folding canes are made of aluminum tubing sections with some kind

of elastic in the middle to pull the sections together.  Each producer

has his own variation on the way the sections join, so you must make

your own choice.  Some canes are made of concentric tubing that

collapses each one into the next.  If you pull each section out firmly

and give it a slight twist, it should stay in position during your trip. 

Both fiberglass and carbon fiber compound are available in this

telescoping style.



How and Where Do You Hold the Cane? 



The handle goes diagonally across my palm and rests on the extended

index finger.  The other fingers curl around, and the thumb points over

the handle and down the cane.  The palm is vertical as when extended to

shake hands.  That is the classic grip which I use most of the time.  In

close quarters I slide my hand down the cane and narrow the swing.  I

may shift my grip and hold the cane like a long pencil.  You can't swing

the cane much in that position, but you don't want to swing it much

because of the crowd.  In very close, slow-moving crowds such as in

theater lobbies or a line to board a bus, I may just hold the cane

diagonally across my body and slide the cane along in front of my left

foot.  At other times I may shift my grip to ease fatigue or for no

special reason.  



The firmness of the grip should be moderate, neither so tight that you

never let go--you'll break the cane when it gets caught in a crack--nor

so loose that every obstacle knocks it out of your hand--you'll have to

chase it too often. 



I swing the cane from side to side with pressure of the wrist and

fingers.  The hand swings like a door with the hinge at the wrist. 

Pretty soon you will be almost flipping the cane back and forth with an

easy, unconscious motion. 



My first teacher told us to hold the cane just below the belt buckle

with the forearm braced against the hip.  From that central position the

cane can be tapped evenly from side to side.  This position is good for

beginners, and some people stay with it.  Over the years my cane hand

has drifted to the side by my pocket.  In either position, hold your

hand out a few inches so you do not impale yourself when the cane hits a

stop.  Your whole arm can move to take up the shock.



When you are standing still, hold the cane vertically near your body

with a light grip.  That is, I don't think you want to look like a

shepherd leaning on his staff. 



There will be times, walking or standing, when you want to reach out and

check a particular landmark or shoreline.  Be sure you are not going to

trip someone with the sudden motion, reach out, and then bring your arm

back to the original position.  The point is that you should hold the

cane in a manner and position so as to reach where you need to with

comfort and without undue fatigue. 



Many canes have a loop of chain or string through the handle which is

for the purpose of hanging up the cane when it is not in use.  Do not

put your hand through the loop when you are walking.  If something

should happen to pull the cane out of your hand, it is better to drop

the cane than to be pulled down with it.



You may think I don't care how you hold your cane.  I do think that

there is more than one way and more than one place to hold the cane. 

However and wherever you hold the cane, give yourself protection for the

full width of your body.  The purpose of the grip and position is to

make it possible to tap the cane from side to side, which is the subject

of the next section, and that is very important.  



                  3.  Actually Walking Around



Walking with the Cane, Rule One



My first travel teacher taught us Rule One: "When the body is in motion,

the cane is in rhythm." That means: tap the cane from side to side, one

tap per step, about two inches beyond the width of your shoulders.  Keep

the tip low, but not constantly dragging on the ground. 



The idea of Rule One is to clear an area, and step into it.  Clear the

next area, and step into it.  You can do it faster than you can say it. 

As you step left, tap right; as you step right, tap left.  As a

beginner, you may think that swinging the cane beyond your shoulders is

too wide, but you will learn soon enough that you need the width.  With

the right length of cane and using this technique, you can learn to walk

safely and with confidence.  You will locate obstacles and drop-offs,

and be prepared for them.  If you keep the taps at a steady two inches

beyond your shoulders, it will help to even out your stride and keep you

walking straight.  In crowds or other close quarters, shorten up on the

handle and narrow your swing.  You are still a member of the human race,

so remember your basic courtesies.  



The cane, of course, will not find every small obstacle on the ground. 

It can go around an obstacle the size of a brick, but it will find

things larger than that.  Sometimes there are holes in the sidewalk, and

the cane may go completely over a dip the size of a dinner plate or a

place mat.  True, the cane is not perfect, but nothing else is, either. 

Sighted or blind, everyone has stories of how they tripped over or

stepped into something.  



The cane can tell you what is ahead, but be sure to give it the chance

to do that.  If you are about to turn in an open area or go around a

corner, let the cane clear the area before you step there.  The

headlights on a car point straight ahead and do not look around the

corner before the car turns.  With a cane you can and should check the

area where you are about to turn and step; side-stepping can be

dangerous.  



There are many un-numbered lesser rules, but always remember Rule One:

"When the body is in motion, the cane is in rhythm." 



Planning Practice Routes 



In the beginning a straight route is suitable.  Try walking up and down

your block a time or two while concentrating on Rule One.  As you walk

you may find a "shoreline" on one side: a wall, a fence, or grass.  Let

your cane touch the shoreline each time the swing goes to that side.  It

can help to keep you on course.  Shorelines have breaks and

irregularities which soon become landmarks to help you keep track of

where you are.  Soon you will be walking around the block, if your

neighborhood is laid out that way, and returning to the starting point. 

You will find both fixed and movable obstacles, all part of cane travel.



How can you match your next challenge to your level of experience?  You

may just go a little farther every day.  Guided practice can be helpful

if you can get it, but I mentioned that at the beginning, so I will not

belabor the point.  



Going Up and Down Stairs



You're not going to be a flatlander for the rest of your life.  Almost

every building has stairs or steps somewhere.  



You are at the bottom of the stairs, about to go up.  Some stairs have

hand-rails, and some don't, and you need to be able to use either kind. 

If you are using the hand-rail, put your cane in the other hand.  Either

way, The cane can tell you how high and deep the first step is.  I slide

my hand part-way down the cane and hold it diagonally across my body. 

The cane taps two or three steps ahead of my feet.  Going up and down

stairs is almost the only place I will tell you not to swing the cane

from side to side.  At the top, resume Rule One.  



When going down, locate the top step first with the cane, then with the

foot.  Whether or not you use the hand-rail, hold the cane diagonally

across your body.  Let the cane tip slide off each step as you go.  At

the bottom, resume Rule One.  There are complications such as landings

with or without turns.  No one can list all the tricks that architects

can imagine.  Let your cane go first, and pay attention to what it says. 





After this, you will be going up and down the ordinary hills and valleys

of the outdoor world.



Listening to Traffic on the Street as a Guide





Cars are a common part of the world we live in.  Cars usually drive

straight along streets and turn at corners.  Yes, I know ... but there

are crazy blind pedestrians just as there are crazy sighted drivers.  



I have found that a steady stream of traffic is one of the best helps

there is.  By listening to traffic I can tell how far away the street

is, if the street runs straight or turns, where the intersection is, and

which color is showing on the traffic light.  I use traffic as an

audible shoreline.  



When you are walking around the block for practice, I recommend that you

do not turn the corner when you think you are there.  Go all the way to

the curb, then back up a few steps and turn.  It is easy for beginners

to turn too soon and find themselves without the expected landmarks. 

Now that you have learned about walking straight and listening to

traffic, let's go on to crossing streets.  



Crossing Streets with No Traffic 



For purposes of practice, use a street with as little traffic as

possible.  Because many corners are rounded off for the convenience of

turning traffic, you cannot just walk straight away from the curb.  You

need to find something as a guide to be sure you are starting off

straight across the street.  That guide may be part of the curb beyond

the curved section at the corner.  It may be the dividing lines in the

sidewalk.  It may be the curb ramp for wheelchairs, but be sure that the

ramp is aimed directly across the street and not diagonally out into the

intersection.  It may be traffic either going your way or crossing in

front of you.  When you locate your guide, line yourself up with it so

that you are facing directly across the street.  Listen carefully to be

sure that no cars are approaching from the side or around the corner.  



Having checked your direction and your safety, step off the curb and

walk.  Go quickly without rushing.  Remember Rule One.  There can be

obstacles or holes in the street as well as anywhere else.  When you

come to the far side, sweep the curb with your cane before stepping up. 

It is common to find signposts near intersections, and I have found some

with my head because I didn't find them with my cane.  Did you cross

straight and arrive at the sidewalk?  If not, and I don't always,

myself, pause to make an educated guess from your surroundings, and make

the necessary corrections.  There you are across the street.  Now you

can go on your way.  



Which Way Can Cars Turn At Intersections? 



When you consider intersections, you need to know the directions and

paths that cars take when they go through or turn.  That is: if you are

facing a street with the intersecting street on your right, and each

street allows two-way traffic, a left-turning car can go from the middle

lane on your right to the middle lane in front of you.  If you are

crossing then, the car will appear to approach from behind your right

shoulder.  If your experience does not include such information, it is

time to learn.  You can either observe for yourself or ask for help. 

There are many combinations of factors to know about including one-way

streets, right turn on red, special turning lanes, traffic islands, and

traffic lights to accommodate all of these.  All drivers out there have

to learn the rules of traffic, and you are just as smart as they are. 

Learn them one at a time as you find them.  



Environmental Clues and Mental Maps



In some ways, this section is the heart of cane travel.  By using your

cane, which I do, or a little sight, which I do not do, you are only

extending the range of your perception a few feet.  By listening to the

sounds around you and the nature of those sounds, you are extending the

range of your perception for many feet, sometimes hundreds of feet.  The

mind has the greatest reach, and can consider distances from inches away

to miles away, and objects the size of a bump in the sidewalk to a

sports stadium.  The mind can form a mental picture or map arranging

landmarks along in the right order.  Then it can check off each point as

you pass it.  The mind coordinates all your knowledge, information,

senses and skills, so let us use this marvelous mind of ours.  



Rule One says: "When the body is in motion, the cane is in rhythm." The

cane is good at gathering short-range information for you to act on. 

The mind needs to be aware of the messages that the cane is sending. 

The cane sends such messages as:  the next step is clear, stop, jog to

the side, make a sharp turn, step up or down.  



I am sure you have heard someone talking who, in the middle of a

sentence, turned his head or put his hand over his mouth.  You noticed

the change in the character of the sound.  The same kind of change

happens when the speaker walks around a corner.  We can learn to hear

these same changes outside while we are walking.  



When I became blind, I began to listen to sounds more carefully.  Even

when I was told about some sounds, I did not notice them.  I learned

gradually, not all at once.  For me, "gradually" meant from a few weeks

to a few years.  



I found that the sound of a car driving down the street changed when it

passed by a parked car or a tree.  The first time I remember noticing

that effect was when I was still sighted, but temporarily blind.  That

is, I walked between two parked cars in a very dark parking lot and

"heard" them, even though they were standing still.  What I heard was

the sound shadow, the difference in the background sound as these large

objects blocked part of what I heard.  It makes no difference what you

call this effect, but it may help you if you use the experience. 

Sometimes you can identify or locate an object by noticing the air

currents moving around it, be it a natural breeze or caused by human

action.



When you walk down a hall in a large building, you sometimes pass a door

with noise coming out of it.  You may approach the intersection of

another hall where people are passing by in front of you.  The time may

come when you notice the open door or the intersecting hall just by the

nature of the background sound.  



There are more than the five senses of touch, taste, smell, sight, and

hearing.  There is the sense in our muscles that tells us where our

various body parts are.  There are also the senses of time and distance. 

These two work together and can be put to use keeping track of where we

are.  



At home and work, I know about how big the rooms are and how long the

halls are, so I get used to how long it takes to cross a room or to get

to the end of the hall.  Having gone far enough, I anticipate the next

thing to do, which is usually to turn a corner or enter a doorway.  When

walking outside, we make use of the same senses.  We just expand the

distances.  



One more of the senses is the sense of turning.  This sense is not exact

to me.  I can identify turns better when I am going fast than when I am

going slow.  Sometimes I walk around a gentle curve and do not know how

much I have turned, or that I have turned at all.  I wish I could do

better.  



Once, just for practice, a friend and I stood between a table and a wall

and tried to turn exactly 90 degrees back and forth.  It helped

somewhat.  This sense, alone, is not reliable to me, but it is a help

when combined with the other senses.  



As a new travel student, I asked my teacher, "How can I go two or three

blocks this way, and four or five blocks that way, and find the barber

shop?" I learned later how much of a "beginner's question" that was.  It

is like the algebra student who comes to the first class and opens the

book in the middle, only to ask, "How can I ever solve that problem?"

The answer is that you start at the beginning, and later, when you pass

that point in the book you find that it was just one more step along the

way.  Long ago I found that I could make use of general directions, and

I did find the barber shop.  



I can usually keep track of where I am by checking off local landmarks

and noticing distances, but sometimes I do get confused, disoriented, or

simply "lost." I ask directions or pick out a particular spot and do

some limited exploring.  I may have been a block short, 90 degrees off

course, or even right on course but not aware of it.  I may feel stupid

for a minute, but I get "found" and go on my way.  



I learn easily from spacial displays.  I like two-dimensional paper

maps, but they are hard to find.



When I think of where I'm going, I map out my route in my head.  For

some people, maps are of no help at all.  They do not want to know north

and south.  Just tell them left or right, and how far it is.  I can work

from either kind of directions.  We all have different abilities, notice

different landmarks, and go on different trips, so use the things that

help you.



Compass directions can be a very useful tool.  First, you need to know

that North and South are opposite each other, and that East and West are

opposite each other.  When you face North, West is to the left and East

is to the right.  Many cities try to have some orientation to the

compass, but there are usually a few streets that curve or are just not

straight with the compass.  When walking inside a large building, it may

be helpful to identify halls by compass directions.



Let me end this section with a set of directions I once gave to a friend

of mine.  "Go out of the building and turn left to the corner.  Cross

the street to the right and go south, down to the next corner.  You need

to cross the intersection both ways, and end up going left, east, for

two blocks.  That is where you come to the big, wide street with the

traffic island on the far side and the separate light for the small

street beyond it.  When you get across there, turn right, and you will

be going slightly down-hill.  A little way down the block, the street

makes a slight turn to the left.  From that point on, there are several

store entrances that are similar.  The one you want is the fourth or

fifth one, but it is the only one with a rubber doormat." He said he

went right to it.  



Expanding Your Horizons 



If you are starting cane travel without formal training, you will meet

these conditions in no special order.  You can learn them as you come to

them.  



An experienced guide or teacher can be of help in judging the degree of

your ability so as to present new challenges at the right time with the

right degree of complication.  Do you need more practice going around

the block so you don't get confused crossing the alley?  Do you still

pass that store that is set back from the street?  Are you keeping track

of the landmarks along the route so you know when to turn into the

office you wanted to find?  On a round-trip, can you get back to your

starting point?  



Landmarks can be such things as a particular arrangement of signposts,

mailboxes, lawns, bushes, driveways, barking dogs, busy streets, broken

sidewalks, hot-dog stands and gas stations.  I have deliberately

mentioned things that you feel with a cane, feel with your feet, hear or

smell.  All of these things have, at times, been landmarks for me. 

Every blind traveler will develop his own local list of landmarks.  



Do you need to take a route down a narrow sidewalk with parking meters

every ten feet?  That will help you learn how wide to swing your cane

and how to get it untangled from obstacles.  Do you need to take a route

along a very wide sidewalk with crowds of people going both ways, or no

other people going either way?  That will help you develop your ability

to walk straight.  



By the way, what is "walking straight?" It is a matter of keeping the

goal ahead of you and making a series of minor course corrections.  As

you gain experience in swinging your cane evenly, as you pick up a

little bit of speed, as you make use of more landmarks, and as you

identify more sounds around you, you will find that you are walking

straight.  I listen in all directions, but we usually walk in the

direction we are looking, so keep your face straight ahead.



Every now and then someone calls to me, usually from at least 20 feet

away, while I am crossing a street, "Straighten out, you're walking

crooked!" Of course, had I known I was walking crooked, I would already

have made my own corrections.  It finally occurred to me that what these

people are trying to say is, "You are going off at an angle to the

desired direction, and it would be well to alter your course slightly."

The person has an idea of what the ideal course would be, but they did

not tell me which way to go, left or right.  At times like that, I make

a quick decision based on what is around me.  Oh, when will people learn

to be more specific and do it without informing the whole neighborhood? 



As I walk down a block in either a business or residential area, I

listen to what is around me and what is ahead of me.  What is ahead soon

becomes the next intersection.  By the time I arrive I usually know what

the traffic condition is and which street has the green light.  If you

can learn to add this trick to your list, it will keep you going more

smoothly.  



One Dangerous Situation to Avoid 



Let me tell you of one time not to cross a street.  When a car that

could go past stops, and the driver calls to you, "Go ahead, I'll wait

for you," and especially if there is an empty lane beside the car, do

not cross.  The time will come when a second driver will not see you and

will zip past at speed.  Why not?  The lights were with him.  I have

narrowly escaped injury in such a situation.  I went to the funeral of a

couple who were caught in just such a situation.  Having learned my

lesson, I sometimes have to turn and walk away from the curb a few steps

in order to convince the driver that I will not cross then.  



Crossing Big, Busy Intersections 



Busy intersections usually have traffic lights with lots of cars going

through.  I use the sound of the traffic to show where, when, and how

far I need to go.  Consider the possibility of such things as traffic

islands and multiple phases in the traffic lights.  With as much traffic

as there is, you could line up your shoulders parallel with the cars

crossing in front of you, or find some mark on the sidewalk to point you

straight across the street.  Do not start part-way through a cycle on a

"stale green" light.  I am always wary of people who tell me, "You can

go now.  There's no one coming."  Where I live, drivers observe traffic

lights more strictly than pedestrians do.



The movement of traffic tells me when the light changes in my favor.  I

may pause, but just for a moment, to be sure that no cars are turning 

in front of me.  It is time to step down and walk quickly, using Rule

One.  If there are other pedestrians, go with them.  There is some

safety in numbers.  I listen to the cars going my way, and follow the

direction they take.  This is the time to listen, feel, and think in all

directions.  Sometimes there is turning traffic for which you must

either speed up or slow down.  The other side of the street really does

exist, and you can get there.  By now the last of the cars going your

way are passing you on one side, and you are passing the cars waiting on

the street you are crossing on the other side of you.  Now here is the

curb.  Sweep it off, step up, and go on your way.



What Goes Through My Mind While Walking Down a Street?



When I was a child I used to hear of people who could dance and talk

with their partner at the same time.  I thought they had to be very good

dancers to do that.  When I grew older and learned to dance, I found

that it wasn't as hard as I thought it would be.  When a blind person

walks down a sidewalk, swinging a long white cane, some of the same

physical and mental coordination is going on.  When walking with a cane

you coordinate your own speed and rhythm with your surroundings.  There

are lots of things you anticipate, notice, and then pass by.  Come along

as I take a six-block walk through a downtown area.



As I get off the bus, I let the cane tell me if I am in the street or on

the curb.  It's a deep step to the street.  The first swing of the cane

finds the curb.  The rest of the swing clears the curb, and I step up

and go in about two more steps.  Now I am at the sidewalk.  Along this

street there are sections of grassy tree lawn, so I have to keep back

from the curb about this distance.



I turn right and get Rule One going.  There's traffic in the street on

the right, and I'll try to stay an even distance from it.  It sounds

like people standing and talking near the edge of the walk, so I need to

curve around them.  Now there's grass on the right, so let the cane

touch it on each swing to that side.  The grass won't last long, but

it's a good shoreline while it's there.



Some lady in high heels is trying to trot past me.  I must not be going

fast enough for her.  So what!  I walk faster than some people and

slower than others.  I'll follow those heels to the end of the block.  



I must be nearing the end of the block.  I can hear cars crossing in

front of me.  I should go clear out to the curb on this block.  I have

turned to go around the corner too soon on other trips here and found

myself where I didn't want to be and wasn't sure where I was.  At a time

like that I try to reverse my course and get back to a known location.  



There's the corner with its wheel chair ramp.  I back up a step, turn

left, and get Rule One going again.  There's no good shoreline on this

side of the walk.  On the return trip there's a good shoreline, a nice

cement curb along the inner edge of the walk.  Sometimes I drift over

and take that side of the walk, anyway.  This time I listen hard to the

traffic on the right and keep it just so far from me.  "Oh drat!" I got

too close, and the tree is trying to brush my hair for me.  People are

approaching from ahead, so I narrow the swing of the cane on the left a

bit.  



There's traffic crossing in front of me, again.  I need to notice how

long it keeps moving since this time I must cross the street.  "Five

seconds--ten seconds."  No, it changed.  Now the cars are going my way. 

Will I have time to get there before the green light goes stale?  "Ten

seconds--fifteen--twenty."  No, too late.  Lights change every thirty

seconds in this part of town, so I would rather wait for a fresh start. 

I'm not perfectly accurate on counting seconds, but I'm close enough to

give myself a good idea of when to expect the lights to change.  The

light changes; no cars turning; I walk; and, what do you know, right up

the ramp on the other side.  



The next block has a wide sidewalk with tall buildings on the left. 

There is something going on at the lower edge of my awareness, and I

don't think of it most of the time.  Background noise reflects off this

continuous wall of buildings, and "hearing that wall" makes it easier

for me to keep a steady distance from it.  These next four blocks have

the same feature, but the only time I think of it is in the last block

when an alley makes a break in the wall.  The cane keeps swinging,

according to Rule One, but that is almost as unconscious an act as

moving my feet.



Both street and pedestrian traffic are heavier here.  There is a person

calling out at the far end of the block.  Drawing nearer I can tell it

is a woman selling fruit.  I give her a little more space on the right. 

There is plenty of traffic to mark the intersection.  Just as I come

even with the fruit woman, there is a shift in the surrounding noise,

and I have passed the buildings.  Now which direction was the light

green?  I wasn't paying enough attention to that.  There are cars

crossing in front of me, so I'll just walk slowly up to the curb.  There

are plenty of cars and people to define the red and green light.



Here's the green light, and all the pedestrians are going, which means

that no cars are turning.  It's a wide street, and I go at a quick pace. 

At other times I have found a sign post half way across at the edge of

the crosswalk, but if I keep to the right I should avoid it.



I do a mental juggling act to balance all the values.  Don't get too

close to the cars on the right; avoid the sign on the left; don't trip

the pedestrians with the cane; here's the hump in the middle of the

street; it's downhill from here; a car is turning the corner in front of

me; pause, it's bigger than I am; and now, the curb, at last.  Sweep off

the curb, and--whoops!  Don't step up here.  There are several signposts

in the way.  Turn toward the corner with one tap of the cane in the

street and one tap on the curb.  Now the curb is clear, so step up, and

just in time.  Listen a moment to people and cars for a directional

guide, and off we go again.



This block is rather uneventful, and here's the next intersection. 

There is plenty of traffic, so I know when the light's changing, and

there it goes, just in time for me.  It isn't quite a straight crossing,

but half a step to the right is enough of a correction.  I dodge left

around the popcorn stand which shows itself in three ways.  It blocks

the sound of the cars behind it, a sound shadow; the vendor and

customers are talking; and you can guess what the last clue is.



Now, for the last two blocks, and this one is plain vanilla.  The light

changes in my favor just as I pass the last building.  "One thousand,

two thousand, three thousand."  There's the corner, and no cars turning. 

I still have time to make it.



The crossing is OK, and my building is almost at the end of the block. 

There's the alley which is about two-thirds of the way.  It's time to

cross over to the left side of the walk and tap the front of buildings

with each swing of the cane.



What I want is a wide entrance with a foot-thick, metal-covered pole at

the edge of the walk, but all the buildings here are even with the walk. 





Here's a building, more building, a glass door, but it's not set back,

more building ...  "Bother!" There's the corner, so I passed it.  Turn

around and go back.  There's the building; glass door, more building. 

Here are the setback and the pole, my building at last.  Now it's just

two steps and turn right for the swinging door.



Every trip is a bit different, even though some component parts are

similar.  Just disassemble the parts and shake them up before selecting

the items for your next trip.  If you keep your landmarks in mind, use

your basic techniques, and pay attention to things around you; you'll

get there.



Walking with Someone Else



The first thing to remember when you are walking with someone else is

that you are still responsible for your own safety.  The two times I

suffered serious injury while walking were while I was with someone

else.  I falsely and foolishly gave over direction to the sighted person

I thought was guiding me.  In each case the other person considered that

I was managing at least part of my own guidance.  The other person may

choose the main route, guide you around obstacles, let you know at step-

ups and drop-offs, but it is essential for you to pay attention, too.



When I walk with another person, sighted or blind, I find it easier to

stay with them if one of us takes the arm of the other.  Not everyone

likes that physical contact, so I have to divide my attention between

where I am going and where the other person is.  We can stay close

enough for conversation, but the proximity is not as steady.



If you are with a stranger, or even a friend, it is polite to ask: "May

I take your arm?" If they accept your offer, take their arm lightly or

put your hand on their shoulder.  Fall in step.  Regardless of whether

your companion is sighted or blind, continue using Rule One.



Some of my sighted friends and family members are used to guiding me,

and I am confident of their judgment about speed, space, and obstacles. 

Sometimes I walk directly behind if the space is narrow.  When the space

opens up, I step up beside them.  I do not always judge well where the

other person's feet are, and step on their shoes.  I try to judge their

step by the sway of their body, but I don't always get it right.  



Many guides, such as the people you meet at street corners who offer to

help you across the street, are not familiar with how to guide.  I may

just muddle through, or I may take the time to say something like this:

"It is easier if I take your arm.  That way, you will be half a step in

front, and I can anticipate my step by noticing what you do." 



There are circumstances when I make good or bad compromises with the

rules.  With a guide I sometimes walk along with the cane diagonally

across my body while making regular or occasional taps.  Then there was

the time, while rushing through the airport,I had a suitcase in one

hand, my cane and a suitcase in the other hand, my guide had my arm and

the third suitcase.  We cut a wide swath, and I'm glad it was only an

ashtray we knocked over and not a five-year-old.



Walking Without a Cane



We all walk without a cane sometimes, so let's talk about it.  I

remember the rule I read in a book about mountain climbing which said

that you should always use a rope, but you should climb as if you did

not have a rope.



When you are not using a cane, everything else in the environment

becomes more important.  Whatever you can find with any other sense

organ must be evaluated as quickly as possible.  In my own home, I try

to keep doors open or closed all the way.  I swing an arm through a

doorway as I near it, just to be sure I am passing through it neatly. 

Sometimes I touch furniture as I go by.  I pause at the top and bottom

of stairs, and reach with my foot to locate the first step.  When

looking for a doorknob or light switch, I make more of a sweeping motion

than a straight reach.  I sometimes keep my arm across in front of my

waist.



One thing I do not do is to hold my arms straight out with the palms

forward in the traditional sleep-walker's pose.  If I were that

uncertain, I would use my cane.  The cane looks better and is far more

effective.  



I walk more slowly without a cane.  I do not use a cane within my own

home, and rarely enough around my yard.  But that is the boundary.  Once

in a while I will walk a short way around my neighborhood without a

cane.  And one time, because of freak circumstances, I was caught at

night, five blocks from home, on the far side of a traffic circle

without a cane.  I walked very carefully and a little slower than usual,

and made it, but I would not do it if there were another way.



Using a cane is a habit with me, and when I go out, I grab my cane on

the way.



                   4.  Public Transportation



Riding Buses and Streetcars 



 Most trips involve walking at the beginning and end, or even in the

middle, so that many skills are used.  You need to have the route,

destination, and length of the trip in mind before you start.  While

planning your trip, learn the name and/or number of the bus you want. 

Buses for different routes may use the same or nearby stops, and you

will need to ask before boarding. 



You need to know where the stop is: at the corner or around the corner,

back from the corner or across the intersection.  All of these locations

and more are possibilities.  In my boyhood and youth I rode streetcars

that ran in the center lane of the street.  We boarded from an island,

sometimes raised and sometimes painted on the street.  I had to locate

the island by listening to where cars did not run.  



With practice you will learn how fast people shuffle along as they step

up, pay their fare, get a transfer, and find a seat.  Do you need to ask

the driver to call your stop for you?  The time of boarding is a good

time to ask for that help.  Sometimes it is wise to confirm your

destination with the driver as you near it, especially if it is a long

trip.  When you get off, remember all those possible locations of the

bus stop we mentioned at the beginning of the trip.  In unfamiliar

areas, I ask where the stop will be for the return trip. 



Over the years I have made many mistakes such as waiting at the wrong

stop, getting on the wrong bus, getting off too soon or too late, and

more.  I have paid for these mistakes in time and confusion, but I have

learned from them. 



Next I will present a step-by-step account of a trip I take frequently. 

I do this to share what I find necessary and helpful when riding the

bus.  This trip takes me from work to home. 



I go out the door of the building where I work and turn left.  At the

end of the block there is an oblique left where I again go to the end of

the block.  



There are three streets that almost come together here to form a series

of individual intersections.  There are curb cuts for wheelchairs, and

if I use them and walk straight, I hit the ramp on the opposite side. 

At this time of day there is plenty of traffic waiting to go the same

way I do.  I go when they go, stay parallel to the line of cars on the

left, keep between them and the cars waiting their turn on my right.  If

I step up on grass, I am too far to the right, so correct to the left. 

It is about seventy feet to the next corner, and about half of that

distance is taken by the entrance to a gas station.  I can tell when I

am crossing their slanted driveway if one foot is high and one foot is

low. 



I wait through the cycle of lights and cross the next street.  On the

curb I walk in two or three steps and turn right.  The bus stop is a bus

length down, just beyond a plot of dirt with a tree and a trash can. 

There are often other people waiting for the bus. 



There are three routes that use this stop, and two of them will take me

where I need to go.  Some of the drivers have learned to announce their

route as they open the door, so I don't always have to ask.  Often there

are people getting off, so I wait my turn to board.  I step up, put the

fare in the box, ask for my kind of transfer to go across a zone line,

and find a seat. 



Here I digress for a point of philosophy.  Drivers and other passengers

may encourage you or force you to sit in the "priority seating" at the

front of the bus.  The choice is still yours to take it or not.  I

sometimes sit in front and sometimes farther back.  



How do I know where to get off?  This leg of the trip is short enough so

I have learned the pattern of the eight stops.  Even if we miss one, and

at that time of day we usually hit them all, I can account for the

distance.  It goes like this: long, medium, medium, long, very short,

long, medium but often missed, medium.  After six I get up, approach the

driver and ask.  I actually count stops on my fingers, but please don't

tell my third grade teacher! 



The stop where I get off is near the corner, so I walk the few feet and

check for the direction of traffic.  Sometimes I cross with that noisy

bus beside me, but I feel safe because no traffic is coming through that

bus.  The stop for the next bus is just to the right where I have to

thread my way between a trash can, a telephone stand, and a newspaper

vending machine, all good landmarks.  



For this bus and the next my only fare is my transfer.  We go through a

distinctive set of turns and up a long hill, but I don't have to notice

while going home because I ride to the end of the line.  



At this terminal, I walk straight away from the bus, then turn to follow

the sidewalk beside the turn-around used by several of the buses.  I

dodge people, benches, and supporting pillars, and turn out at the

second exit, which puts me right at the fire plug beside my bus stop. 

This time I can only take one of the three buses that stop here, and

sometimes they line up, so I may have to back up fifty feet for mine.  I

have made a few "bus stop" acquaintances who sometimes give me the word.





This leg of the trip takes about twenty minutes.  We start off around

the terminal and, after a quarter of a mile, in, around, and out of a

traffic circle.  Those turns are distinctive.  We go about four miles

with very few people getting on or off.  Then we come to a major

intersection for which we must wait through at least one cycle of the

lights and with the stop after we cross.  After the next stop, which we

do not always make, the bus makes an oblique left turn, and I sigh with

relief because it is my last landmark.  I get up when the bus shifts

into high gear.  At my stop I go back across the street we just crossed

and walk two short blocks to my home. 



I know that this description is long, but it is the "one bite at a time"

approach to eating an elephant.  No two trips are exactly the same, but

you may find some of these techniques useful as you develop your own. 



Subways, Escalators, and Elevators 



The first thing people want to know about subways is the location of the

platform edge.  I slide my cane tip along to locate the edge, step back

from it, and respect it.  As I walk along subway platforms, I walk a

little slower than usual, and I swing my cane a little wider than usual. 

I also slide the cane on the surface, the only time I use this otherwise

poor technique.  I want to know immediately if the cane drops over the

edge.  I expect people to criticize me about this point, so go ahead. 

The one thing I do not do is step sideways.  The cane has been ahead of

me, not to the side.  



When the train comes, and after the door opens, put the cane tip on the

floor of the car before you step in just to be sure you are not trying

to enter the gap between cars.  When you get off, let the cane tip go

first to be sure that there is a platform waiting for you.  



Are there stairs, escalators or elevators to take you up and down? 

Stairs have been discussed earlier.  For escalators, I only know one

warning and two tricks, and they are not exclusive to blind people.  The

warning is that an escalator is a powerful, moving machine.  Cooperate

with it as it helps you, and you will get there.  Use the hand-rail, and

don't play around.  The first trick is, if I am not sure if an escalator

is going up or down, I pause in front of it and feel the hand-rail.  The

other trick is one of balance as I step on or off a moving platform. 

When I step on, and I feel the stair treads dividing under my feet, I

step up or down so that my whole foot is on one tread, not divided

between treads, but that is no trick.  It is just common sense.  



Treat elevators with the same respect you treat the platform edge.  Let

the cane tell you that there is something solid ahead of you to step on. 

This is no time to enact bad elevator jokes.



Airports, Train and Bus stations 



Transportation terminals tend to have several features in common.  There

are long distances to cover and large open areas with arrangements of

furniture in the middle.  The ticket counter is relatively close to the

entrance, relative to the size of the terminal, that is. 



The next part of the trip may cover several hundred yards of corridors

including an array of modern miracle transportation: moving sidewalks,

people movers, monorails and more.  Little children think they are fun;

I must be getting old.  At the end of this part of the trip you must

find just the right door and play the ticket game again. 



You may be able to get most or all the way by yourself, but if you need

help in finding your way, there is no use in being shy about asking for

help.  A personal guide may range from necessary to helpful to

bothersome.  As hard as it sometimes is to find help when you need it,

sometimes it is harder to get rid of help when you don't want it any

more.  Some trips are once and never again, and I need more help then. 

Some trips are regulars, and I need little if any help then.  



The job of the blind traveler is to learn and keep in mind the gate

number and departure time.  The guide, then, needs only to locate and

steer, not to investigate and govern.  The guide may try to investigate

and govern, anyway, but it is your trip, not theirs.  You make the

decisions, so you stay in control.  



In my experience, one of the distinct features of airports is the

departure lounge.  That is where you may have your ticket taken away

from you, be pre-boarded, be helped at the right or wrong time with the

right or wrong amount of help.  



I have found it informative to hear what airline personnel say to each

other about me.  "Should we take his ticket?" That was when I clutched

my ticket and gently found a seat to wait in.  It was not the same seat

I had before I went up to ask my question, but I still had my ticket and

boarded when I chose.  



There was the time when three flights were called before mine.  Everyone

walked around the edge of the lounge, avoiding the central area.  I

decided that benches or plants must be blocking that area.  I could hear

where tickets were being taken.  When my flight was called, I took the

"round" trip and found the departure gate myself.  That was when I

heard, "He didn't ask for any help."  I don't always insist on being

that independent, but that day I did.  



Train stations may or may not be as big as airports, but they share the

same obstacles.  Trains are long, so platforms have to be long.  Some

train platforms are raised above the level of the tracks, so remember

the rules from the subway lesson.  Locate the platform edge, and respect

it.  Do not step sideways.  Let your cane tell you that there is

something solid to step on: up, down, and level.  



Bus stations range in size from a driveway beside a small-town drug

store to a city block or more.  In bus stations, you need to get to the

right boarding gate,  and there is often a loud noise when you get

there.  Sometimes the distance from the boarding gate to the bus door is

short and obvious, and you can find it easily.  Sometimes the bus you

want is behind or beyond three others, all of which are roaring along

with their engines on "high idle".  If you know where to go, then go

ahead.  Remember Rule One.  If you don't know where to go, ask for help. 

All that noise to a blind person masks other useful sounds.  The

equivalent situation to a sighted person would be turning out the lights

or flooding the area with fog.



       5.  Times and Places without the Usual Landmarks



Grocery Stores



If I am going alone, and I know what I want and where it is, I find

movement easiest with my cane in front while holding the front end of

the grocery cart and pulling it behind me.  It steers better that way. 

If I am shopping with another person, I find that store aisles are too

narrow for two people and a cart.  That is when I follow my guide with

my hand on a shoulder.  The cart needs to go at the front or the back of

the procession, a matter of personal choice.



Most of the time I am an organized shopper, preparing my grocery list

beforehand.  If I know the layout of the store, I think of each section

and decide what to buy as I mentally walk around.  If the store is new

to me, and all stores are new the first time, I do some preparation,

anyway.  The more I am going to buy, the more help I need, so I ask the

store for one of their staff to help in my selections.  You have to be

specific when designating items: tuna, oil packed or water packed;

cereal, which size; bananas, how green.  Finding a time that is good for

you to shop and the store to help is a matter of juggling schedules.



In years past, I used a two-wheeled fold-up cart for pulling my

groceries home.  The cart had a bad habit of getting too close and

running over my heel.  In order to keep the cart in its place behind me,

I held my arm straight down and against my side.  That position kept the

wheels back from me.  



How Do You Walk in Ice, Snow, and Rain? 



Ice, snow, and rain have this in common: they make the footing slippery. 

How do I keep from giving a skating demonstration and falling on my

dignity?  I walk a little slower, keep my knees slightly bent, and take

shorter steps.  I also put my feet down flat, not striding out with the

heel landing first.  I may not move fast, but I do move and stay

upright.  



If the snow is light or fresh, I dig my cane through it, and with the

combination of sound and touch I can tell what is there.  If the snow is

too deep to dig through or it is packed and frozen, the cane must find

something above the surface to identify as a landmark.  Sometimes packed

snow on the sidewalk and loose snow beside it show enough difference to

help.  Taller landmarks are helpful, such as bushes, fences, sign posts,

and parked cars.  Snow covers many of the usual landmarks, but it can

become a landmark, itself.  One winter it stayed so cold for so long

that I used a particular snow bank as a landmark on the way to a

friend's house.  



When the snow is deep and soft, it weighs down branches which hang in

front of you.  One advantage of a long cane is that you can reach up and

tap a branch so it will release its burden of snow before you walk under

it.  Well, it works sometimes. 



The world sounds different with a covering of snow.  Echoes disappear. 

Distances expand.  I navigate more by dead reckoning and less by my

usual landmarks. 



Rain may not change the footing as much as snow and ice do, but it can

change the sound of things in its own way.  Cars hissing by on wet

streets mask other sounds.  Rustling raincoats do the same.  Hats,

scarves and hoods all influence what you hear in different ways, and you

may want to think of that along with the weather.  I am rarely out in

rain so hard that it covers all other sounds.  



It may take longer to get places in the rain.  I often listen harder and

wait longer to know where things are and when things happen.  Here is

another practical use for the long cane: finding the depth and width of

curbside puddles.



How About Suburban and Rural Roads with No Sidewalks?



I like to get routes, distances, and landmarks well in mind before

starting.  There is more area in which to get lost, and fewer people

from whom to ask directions.  I take my longest cane and swing it rather

widely.  I move along at a good clip because there are greater distances

to cover.  I still have to stay alert for traffic on the road, as well

as mailboxes and ditches beside it.  



I usually stay on the shoulder of the roadway, but sometimes I take

short excursions to explore for a sidewalk which may appear for a while,

or a front walk, driveway, or other landmark that would help me keep

track of what is about and around.  I like to stay close to the road,

because that is the main landmark.  The direction of the sun, wind, and

distant sounds can also be used as a guide and landmark.  



Are There Roads and Intersections Unsafe for Any Pedestrian? 



I am one of those people who finds the "wet paint" sign and wonders if

the paint is still wet.  That same rebellious, disbelieving streak comes

out when people tell me not to attempt certain streets or intersections

because they are too dangerous or complicated for me.  I always wonder

if they mean "because I am blind." 



I usually learn something about these places before testing them for

myself.  Is there another street or intersection a block or two from

there that would get me to my destination just as well?  The answer is

sometimes "yes" and sometimes "no." I know some "nervous nay-sayers" who

simply have no faith in the travel abilities of blind people.  I also

know some "supporting stalwarts" who recognize realistic obstacles.  



When it comes time for me to make my own decision, I take it slowly,

allowing plenty of time on my schedule.  I also pick an off-peak time

for traffic.  There is no doubt about it, I have made mistakes! Once I

found that the roadway dropped immediately into a 3-foot wide ditch at

the bottom of a 50-degree hill.  The cars going by fanned me with their

breeze.  I never went back there.  Another time I walked over an area of

hedges, potted plants, no proper sidewalks, becoming somewhat

disoriented before coming to the other side.  I was glad I had only gone

through the confusing part of that one, and not the dangerous part.  



Sometimes I have had satisfying success.  I have stood at an

intersection for many minutes, listening to the traffic to learn where

the movement went, and when the directions changed.  Then I decided I

could make it, and did.  To another blind person, I would say, "gather

all your skills and use your best judgment for evaluating the situation

before and during the trip.  If necessary, be willing to find another

route for the next time."



Picnics, Hiking, and Rough Country  



Do you go for picnics or hikes in the country?  When I go on these

trips, I take my sturdiest cane along.  It is just as important here as

anywhere else to use the cane and to keep track of landmarks and

directions.  When I arrive at a new area, I do as many people do; I try

to get an idea of what is around me.  Are there buildings, roads, rocks,

trees, or open areas?  Is there a slope to the land, and what is the

direction of the sun, wind, and noises?  I may do some short-range

exploring while keeping track of my point of reference, be it a car or a

picnic table.



Since I am the only man in my family and the strongest one of us, I get

to carry the picnic cooler from the car to the table, but I still use my

cane.  The cane is held somehow or other in front, whether I am being

guided or carrying this two-handed burden alone.  My shins want the cane

to tell them when we arrive at the bench.



When hiking beside someone else, I still protect myself with the cane. 

Some trails are well-worn and obvious to the feet, so I may walk alone

and use Rule One, the side-to-side swing of the cane.  On some narrow

trails I let my guide take one end of the cane while I hold the other

end.  Since I am without the cane as a bumper, I work out signals with

my partner such as "left around the rock," or "up and over the log."  I

try to get my partner to put the functional word first and not at the

end of a long, descriptive sentence.  By the time I listen to "There's a

bend in the trail up here with a tree on one side and a cliff on the

other, so I guess you'd better stay to the right," I may already have

met my fate.



When it comes to clambering over hills and boulders, some of the cane

technique gets rather informal.  I still use the cane to locate the next

place my foot is going.  Sometimes there is as much poking and probing

as swinging the cane from side to side.  I rarely jump, and only when I

am very sure of where I will land.  When the rocks and hills get very

steep, it may be more practical to slip the cane under my belt or

abandon it altogether, and just use hands and feet.



If you want to use a directional compass, you need to have a good idea

of where you are going before you begin.  You must make the compass work

for you along with the other tools you use.  Keep a record of landmarks,

distances, and compass bearings.  If you are going very far, you need

more instruction in orienteering than I can give you here.



When I am entangled in bushes and trees with interlocking branches as

high as my head, I am usually in someone's back yard or in a city park. 

Only a few times have I been in rough country where this condition

lasted.  If the usual city technique of swinging the cane along the

ground is just not telling you enough, and the branches are getting in

your face, try this.  



Bring the cane up at a diagonal in front of your body, across at head

level, and down at a diagonal to the other side.  For the next step,

reverse the direction.  The path of the cane is an X with a loop at the

top.  I go rather slowly when I do this, and I am usually holding back

branches with my free hand.  This really is a "wild woods" technique. 

Do not use it around people or other works of the human race such as

windows.  IN all the years of travel I have behind me, my total use of

this technique probably does not exceed ten minutes. 



          6.  Care and Feeding of the Long White Cane



Wash, Feed, and Dress Your Cane



The washing part is obvious, but I am a poor one to tell you, since I

don't do it often enough, myself.  Collapsible canes that are held

together by an internal elastic cord need watching.  Keep track of the

wear on the elastic cord, and be smart enough to replace it the day

before it breaks.  Of course, it is better to be a month early than a

day late.  



Cane tips last me anywhere from a few weeks to a few months.  I carry a

spare tip with me most of the time.  A cane tip with a hole in it sounds

different from a tip without the hole, and that is the sign to carry a

spare tip all the time.  I have worn out or lost tips unexpectedly.  The

unprotected end of any cane, especially fiberglass, is damaged quickly

when rubbed against concrete.  Just wave the cane, and keep the tapping

to a minimum.



Does your cane have reflective tape on it?  If not, you could put some

on it anywhere along the stem.  It is an investment in night-time

safety.  Reflective surfaces need to be kept clean or replaced to

maintain their reflective value.  



If you associate with other blind people, as I do, you may want some

unique mark on your cane.  I write my name in braille on Dymo tape and

stick it on the bottom end of the handle.  



Where Does the Cane Go When Not in Use?



When answering this question, you discover the great advantage of the

folding or collapsible cane.  Those styles can fit in a pocket, purse,

on a lap, or under a chair very easily.



There are two horizontal dimensions and one vertical dimension.  Find

some place out of the way; lying on the floor under a chair or table,

standing in a corner, or leaning against a wall.  Be sure that the cane

is lying flat on the floor and not resting on something that holds it an

inch or two above the floor where it will be just high enough to trip

the unsuspecting passer-by.  In some crowded areas "up" is the only way

left.  When I am seated, I sometimes lean the cane from the floor to my

shoulder, hooked behind my heel.



Once in a restaurant, I lost the tip while retrieving the cane from a

tiny place behind the booth.  I remember that incident, and sometimes I

take the tip off before jamming the cane into tight places.  In air

travel stick the cane in some out-of-the-way place, but do not let the

crew take it away from you.  The regulations are now on our side.  



Which Hand Do You Cane With?



The most obvious answer to this question is that you cane with your

dominant hand.  I am right-handed, but I trade off when I carry a heavy

object.  There may be a landmark I want to check on the other side. 

When I am walking with someone else, holding on or not, it may be better

to have the cane on the other side to stay away from feet or another

cane.  If someone is holding my cane arm, it restricts the movement.  I

don't want that.  I have had enough practice with my left hand so that I

am fully adequate, but I am still more comfortable with the cane in the

right hand.  The question of which hand you use is a matter of the

convenience of the moment.



          7.  Thoughts and Experiences on Cane Travel



How Long Does It Take to Learn Cane Travel?



In order to answer this question, you must consider three major variable

factors:  1.  your background; 2.  your aptitude; and 3.  the amount of

time available.



I will give some numbers from my experience, but not until I expand on

these factors.  



Background: Are you familiar with the area where you will be traveling? 

Do you know where some of the streets and buildings are?  Are you used

to the roar of the city, the hush of the suburbs, the quiet of the

country?  Do you know that streets have names and numbers, and that

buildings have numbers, but sometimes have names?  Do you start off

fearful of traffic, or just unfamiliar with it?  Are you familiar with

traffic and the way it moves so that you know what to expect of it?



Aptitude: Are you used to finding your own way, or have people always

taken you places and told you when to stop and go?  Let me mention the

two extremes of aptitude.  



The youth was newly blind and in his late teens.  He came from a rural

setting where he had often gone on cross-country treks when he was

sighted.  There was a touch of youthful rebellion in him.  It seemed as

though his needs would be met by handing him a cane, reading him Rule

One, and getting out of his way.  He did go through several lessons, but

he never needed to repeat them for practice.  He was a natural traveler.



The lady was newly blind and middle-aged.  She was from an urban

setting, but was not used to getting places alone.  She was very

comfortable with her friends in her living room.  During lessons she

made the narrowest possible interpretation of instructions and then

paused to ask, "Is this right?" I could not bring her to the recognition

of her own responsibility to judge each situation.  We parted company

disappointed with each other.  



There are people who would associate some of these characteristics with

being sighted or blind, but I have met people in both groups with odd

mixtures of these characteristics.  



The amount of time available: Time should be measured in two ways: the

number of hours per day and week, and the number of months to be filled

with this schedule.  When I began as a student in a residential

orientation center, I was spending fifteen to twenty hours a week in

guided practice.  It worked well for me.  I have known people who made

good progress with four to five hours of guided practice in a week.  It

seems to me that anything under three hours in a week would be getting

rather thin.  These hours I am talking about are hours spent on specific

skill practice.  They cannot be the only time spent using the cane. 

After all, you are learning these skills to use them in everyday life,

so every time you go out, take your cane and use what you have been

learning.  As with any skill, the more you use it, the faster you will

improve.



The next time you send a letter, grab your cane and walk down to the

corner mailbox.  Find excuses to take short trips here and there.  There

must be some places you want to go, so walk there with your cane.  Take

the cane every time you go out.  It is this kind of constant purposeful

practice that locks in the lessons and speeds the learning process.  If

the only time you use your cane is during the three hours a week you

have lessons, and every other time you go somewhere it is on the arm of

your guide, you are not going to learn how to travel alone.



One thing that helped me a great deal was being with other blind people

who took short trips together.  We walked within the buildings, the

grounds, and out for snacks.  There is nothing like peer pressure,

seeing that they can do it and having them expect you to join them. 

Aren't you just as smart as they are?  And if you are still a beginner,

you don't have to be in front.



I spent an intensive six weeks on travel and reached a satisfactory

level of skill.  Most people I know who worked steadily for several

hours a week, plus out-of-class "just walking around" became good

travelers or made as much progress as they were going to make for a good

foundation in travel in two to three months.  That is from starting as a

beginner.



Can a Blind Person Teach Cane Travel?



By the time I tried teaching other people, I was a good traveler. 

Wherever I lived, I had to learn the area, but there was little

difference in difficulty from one place to the next.  I crossed narrow

and wide streets with straight or angled crossings.  There were traffic

islands and multiple-phase traffic lights with more or less traffic.  I

had to think about some intersections more than others, but I went where

I wanted to go.



When I planned lessons for beginning students, I had to consider the

difficulties of the lesson for each day, and gradually increase the

level of challenge.  That was my first surprise as a teacher.  I scouted

the area of each lesson to identify landmarks, challenges, and hazards. 

Having given route instructions at the beginning of the walk, I then

preceded or followed the student.  There were always certain places

where I wanted to be nearby to evaluate how the student met the

challenge of the day.  The difficulty for any teacher is knowing when to

let the student work out the problem alone, and when to step in with

further instruction.  What we did was very basic.  At first you walk up

and down the block, then around the block.  You cross narrow, quiet

streets, and then busier streets with traffic lights.  You work on short

routes the student wants to accomplish, then longer trips.  Some lessons

are just for practice, but later they are more and more to meet the

student's needs.  You work indoors, outdoors, and take buses.  After a

while, you don't have to repeat lessons for practice.  Just be sure that

the instructions are understood, and send them on their way.  My teacher

ended the course by working us through a 3-1/2 mile hike around a

section of the city.  It gave us students a true sense of accomplishment

to be able to manage that trip and what it had to offer. This seems like

the time for the teacher to say, "You don't need me any more. 

Congratulations, and goodbye." 



No One Has to Do Everything Perfectly



One of the things we all need to do is to find a doorway as we walk

beside a wall.  Many of us slide the cane along at the angle of the

floor and wall until the cane hits the door frame.  That method works,

but I want to point out its weaknesses.  Traffic patterns put us on the

right side of the path; the wall is often on our right; and most of us

are right-handed.  All that means that we are not covering the body with

the cane, thus leaving us open to a collision.  I shift the cane to the

hand opposite the wall to give myself at least some coverage, in case

there is something or someone in the way.  Of course, Rule One says I

should continue tapping the cane from side to side to clear the space in

front of me, but with my stride of two-and-a-half feet I will only touch

the wall every five feet and miss a narrow door.  Sometimes I swing the

cane in the hand away from the wall and slide the near hand lightly

along the wall.  This last method may be the best compromise.  



When I lose track of where I am when I am walking around, and I find

someone of whom I can ask directions, my first question is, "What's the

name of this street?"  I may know enough to find my own way with that

information.  If I have not learned enough, I ask, "How do I get to

...?"  If I have to ask another person later, I ask.



I am a poor judge of the distance ahead of my cane.  I tend to tap

ankles and trip people.  If I want to be sure, I have to give myself far

more space than I really need.  It is even worse if the person ahead is

using a cane, and I hear the tap which is five feet ahead of where they

are.



When I am walking directly behind a guide as we pass through a narrow

space, I often step on the heels of my guide.  I know you are supposed

to be able to tell which foot is forward by the swing of the shoulders,

but I don't always coordinate well.  I have to take very short steps to

keep from stepping on them.  It keeps me out of step, but it also keeps

my feet off of theirs.  



I often have the bad habit of letting my head nod forward.  Didn't we

all have a mother who said: "Keep your head up.  Stand up straight!" 

The practical reason for keeping my head up is to avoid using it as a

bumper.  The cane is supposed to be the bumper.  It is supposed to be in

front all the time.  Better the cane should get scars, not the body.



There are some days I always drift to the right and other days I drift

to the left.  If paying more attention to the line of traffic or to the

shoreline doesn't help, I bring my cane hand back to the middle of my

body and concentrate on keeping the swing of the cane even from side to

side.  "Back to basics" straightens me out.  



The first trip to almost any place usually includes lots of exploration

and false starts.  Sometimes that continues for several trips until I

learn the local geography.  If you can learn faster than I can, more

power to you.



There is one situation when I learned to look lost on purpose.  It is a

crowded theater lobby during intermission when I am trying to find the

men's room.  I take a few steps this way and that way, then pause and

look around with a confused expression on my face.  Pretty soon someone

will offer help, at which point I suddenly regain all my travel skills. 





What About Other Travel Aids, Dogs and Electronics?



I tend to be a practical person.  The rule is: "If it works for you, use

it." I was introduced first to the cane, and was fortunate in that I had

a good teacher.  I learned to travel independently, and it has served me

very well.



There are blind people who travel well with a cane and those who travel

poorly with a cane.  There are blind people who travel well with a guide

dog and those who travel poorly with a guide dog.  I will tell you what

I know about dogs.



Any reputable guide dog school insists on giving travel training along

with the dog, and that is an advantage.  Canes do not come with training

attached.  A dog can offer companionship.  A dog has some memory of its

own and may help in confusing or dangerous situations.  Dogs also make

mistakes, just like their masters.  There is truth in all of these

points.  I like other people's dogs, but I do not want the

responsibilities of feeding, grooming, curbing, and health care that go

with owning a dog.  If it is right for you, do it.  I think it is more

important that you get places conveniently and safely than how you get

there.  It is the human that makes the difference, not the cane or the

dog.  



Over the past several decades, I have heard of electronic travel aids

that were attached to the cane, attached to the forehead, or held in the

hand.  Each one gave off its own sound or vibration.  Each one had

advantages:  locating objects at a distance without touching them,

locating obstacles above cane level, being less "obvious", not always an

advantage.  They have come, and they have gone, and the cane and the dog

remain.  I do not mean to say that there will never be an electronic

travel device that lasts, but it seems to be over the horizon.  The cane

and the dog have been here for many years and are still here.



                           8.  Songs



The White Cane Freedom March

by Thomas Bickford, Debbie Brown, Lloyd Rasmussen and Ken Silberman

To the Tune of: "As Those Caissons Go Rolling Along"



1.  Over hill, over dale, we will hit the concrete trail;

As our white canes go tapping along.

Down the block, cross the street, walking on our own two feet; 

As our white canes go tapping along.

On the job or at home, wherever we may roam,

Yes, independent and free! NFB!

We can find our way at night or in the day;

As our white canes go tapping along.



2.  On a bus, on a train, even flying on a plane; 

As our white canes go tapping along.

As we board, find our seat, no great danger shall we meet;  

As our white canes go tapping along.

We're the able blind, so leave your carts behind.

Don't put us in your holding tanks!  No thanks!

We'll meet no harm. Take back your helping arm.  

As our white canes go tapping along.



3.  On we go at full speed. No contraptions do we need; 

As our white canes go tapping along.

No rough tiles for our feet, nor the traffic signal's tweet;  

As our white canes go tapping along.

No Ph.D.'s, just skillful travelers, please, 

Teaching blind people to be free! NFB!

And the rehab snobs can go and find real jobs;

As our white canes go tapping along.



                The Lament of the Folding Cane

                      by Thomas Bickford

                        to the tune of 

               "A Pretty Girl is Like a Melody"



My folding cane was quite reliable

When it was still brand new.

I'd fold it and then swing it again.

I'd make it small, then use it all

The time, no matter when.



My folding cane is just a memory,

Now that it fell apart.

The elastic stretched and broke.

Four short canes are a joke,

And now my one-piece cane's the cane

That has won my heart.



                       Sources of Canes





In many cities there are organizations which sell white canes that you may

examine before you buy.  The following nine organizations sell canes

through mail order catalogs.  When you compare the catalogs, you will find

that even in this short list some of the equipment comes from common

sources.  Most of these organizations sell a wide variety of items besides

canes, but this booklet is concerned only with canes and related

equipment.  Each catalog has more detail than this summary.  You should

neither order from this summary nor consider it an endorsement.





American Foundation for the Blind, Product Center

100 Enterprise Place

P.O. Box 044

Dover, DE 19903-7044

800-829-0500

FAX:  800-676-3299



Products for People with Vision Problems 



Rigid aluminum 24" to 56"

Folding aluminum 24" to 56"

Variety of replacement tips

Replacement sections for folding canes

Replacement elastic cord

Scotch-Lite replacement coating





Autofold

208 Coleman Street

P.O. Box 1063

Gardner, MA 01440-1063

508-632-0667

FAX:  508-630-3303

CompuServe:  76226,1414



Canes by Autofold 

Support folding 33" and 36"

Support folding 39" (reduceable)

Fiberglass 56" and 59"

Cutting fixture

Folding aluminum 34" to 60"

Cable cane 34" to 60"

Folding fiberglass 

Variety of replacement tips

Replacement cords

Replacement handles and loops

Replacement tube sections

Reflective tape





The Lighthouse, Inc., Low Vision Products

34-20 Northern Boulevard

Long Island City, NY 11101

800-453-4923



Consumer Catalog 



Folding support 33" and 36"

Folding aluminum 34" to 60"

Variety of replacement tips





LS&S Group, Inc.

1808-27 Janke Drive

Northbrook, IL 60062

708-498-9777

800-468-4789

FAX:  708-498-1482



Folding support 33" and 36"

Folding aluminum 32" to 60"

Rigid aluminum 36" to 60"





Maxi-Aids

42 Executive Boulevard

Farmingdale, NY 11735

800-522-6294

Voice/TDD 516-752-0521

FAX:  516-752-0689



Aids and Appliances 



Folding support 33" and 36"

Adjustable aluminum support, 29" to 38"

Folding aluminum 34" to 62"

Rigid aluminum 36" to 60"

Telescopic aluminum

Rigid fiberglass 30" to 64"





National Federation of the Blind, Materials Center

1800 Johnson Street

Baltimore, MD 21230

410-659-9314



Aids and Appliances 

Wooden support 35", 39", 42"

Folding metal support 33" and 36"

Rigid hollow fiberglass 24" to 65"

Telescoping fiberglass 45" to 67"

Repair kit for bottom section of telescoping fiberglass

Folding fiberglass 52" to 66"

Rigid hollow carbon fiber 49" to 65"

Telescoping carbon fiber 39" to 65"

Folding metal 44" to 56"

Variety of replacement tips





Rainshine Company

158 Jackson Street

Madison, WI 53704

608-259-8231



Rigid fiberglass 30" to 64"

Replacement tips





SenseSations

Associated Services for the Blind

919 Walnut Street

Philadelphia, PA 19107

215-617-0600



SenseSations 



Folding aluminum support 33" and 36"

Folding aluminum 42" to 56"

Rigid aluminum 44" to 54"

Variety of replacement tips

Replacement elastic cord

Replacement cane sections

Replacement wrist loop

Scotch-Lite reflective tape

Minor adjustments of equipment





Vis-Aids

102-09 Jamaica Avenue

P.O. Box 26

Richmond Hills, NY 11418

718-847-4734

800-346-9579

FAX:  718-441-2550



Folding aluminum 34" to 60"

Telescoping adjustable aluminum 46" to 54"

Tip assembly for folding cane

Variety of replacement tips





White Cane Industries for the Blind

Route 3, Box 89A

Jenkins, MO 65605

417-574-6368



Aluminum folding 36" to 60"

Aluminum rigid 36" to 60"

Special order variations

Return used canes for repair

Variety of replacement tips

BIBLIOGRAPHY



Benson, Stephen.  So What About Independent Travel.  The Braille Monitor,

     January, 1985, pp 30-40.



Blasch, B. B., Long, R. G., and Griffin, Shirley N.  Results of a National

     Survey of Electronic Travel Aid Use. Journal of Visual Impairment

     and Blindness, November, 1989, v. 33, n 9, pp 449-453.



Dodds, A. G., and Davis, D. P.  Assessment and Training of Low Vision

     Clients for Mobility.  Journal of Visual Impairment and Blindness,

     November, 1989, v 83, n 9, pp 439-446.



Kruger, Irving J.  Orientation and Mobility in the Vocational Area.  New

     Outlook for the Blind, March, 1960, v 54, n 3, pp 87-90.



National Conference on Mobility and Orientation:  (Introduction), New

     Outlook for the Blind, March, 1960, v 54, n 3, pp 77-81.



Nichols, Allan.  Why Use the Long White Cane?  The Braille Monitor,

     February, 1992, pp 54-58.



Pogrund, R. L., and Rosen, S. J.  The Preschool Blind Child Can be a Cane

     User.  Journal of Visual Impairment and Blindness, November, 1989,

     v 83, n 9, pp 431-439.



Rusalem, Herbert.  The Dilemma in Training Mobility Instructors.  New

     Outlook for the Blind, March, 1960, v 54, n 3, pp 82-87.



Sauerberger, Dona.  Cane Technique:  Tricks of the Trade.  Metropolitan

     Washington Orientation and Mobility Association Newsletter,  March,

     1992.



Sauerberger, Dona.  Readers' Comments on Teaching Cane Techniques. 

     Metropolitan Washington Orientation and Mobility Association

     Newsletter, May, 1992, pp 3-4.



Wainapel, S. F.  Attitudes of Visually Impaired Persons Toward Cane Use. 

     Journal of Visual Impairment and Blindness, November, 1989, v 83, n

     9, pp 446-448.



Whitstock, Robert H.  Orientation and Mobility for Blind Children.  New

     Outlook for the Blind, March, 1960, v 54, n 3, pp 90-94.



Willoughby, Doris, and Duffy, Sharon.  Handbook for Itinerant and Resource

     Teachers of Blind and Visually Impaired Students.  Baltimore: 

     National Federation of the Blind, 1989.

lived alone and had no one to cook for me.  This time, at least, it had

nothing to do with my blindness.



There is one thing that all American adults are expected to do, and that

is to drive a car.  There are a few parallels between any two forms of

transportation: noticing surroundings, keeping track of turns and

distances, and planning your destination and route.  Everyone is

expected to do these things.  They are basically the same if you are

going from one room to another, or from one city to another.  The

necessary skills are within everyone's range of abilities.  I base my

opinion on the fact that so many blind people do travel successfully. 

It takes training and practice, but that is to be expected.



People who can see are used to looking at everything they do, and so

they think they have to look in order to know and to do anything.  The

National Federation of the Blind is in the process of teaching people

that it is not so.  We expect blind people to learn how to do many

things.  We lead by example, and offer help along the way.  "Here is a

cane.  Tap it back and forth in front of you as you walk."  The cane,

itself, is a simple thing.  As you step most of what you need to know is

in your head, and that is as good as it ever was."



There is one essential thing that the student must bring to cane travel,

and that is the willingness to try.  Are there doubts?  I had many

doubts.  Are there fears?  I had my share of fears.  Is there confusion? 

I had handfuls of confusion.  Are there questions?  I had a list of

questions which I asked at the wrong times.  But along with my doubts,

fears, confusions and questions I brought a willingness to try.  Many

times I repeated lessons, but I kept trying.  If you have come this far

in the booklet, you can make it the rest of the way.  From here on, you

need take only a small step at a time, so give it a try.



                  2.  Getting the Cane Ready



How Long Should the Cane Be? 



I have slowly graduated from a cane that was 42 inches long to a cane

that is over 60 inches long.  I added a few inches every few years when

I bought a new cane.  I have not yet had a cane that was too long.  My

chin-high cane is barely long enough for me, now.  There are blind

people who use canes that reach their eyebrows. 



Once while I was teaching travel, it occurred to me that what mattered

was not where the cane came on your body, but where it reached in front

of you.  The speed of your pace and the length of your stride will make

a difference.  The cane needs to reach a good two steps in front of

where you are stepping.  As a practical matter, if you find yourself

overstepping the cane, dropping off curbs you didn't find, try a longer

cane. 



When you select a cane, start with one that comes into your armpit. 

Walk up to a blank wall, swinging the cane from side to side two inches

wider than the width of your shoulders.  As you step left, tap right; as

you step right, tap left.  When the cane hits the wall, complete the

step you are making, and take one more.  Was there space for that next

step?  If so, you have enough stopping distance.  If not, add another

two or four inches to the cane and try again.  I am not the only one who

needs the length of that second step for stopping distance.  



Remember that not all obstacles are found at the distance of the end of

the cane.  You find some things as the cane swings to the side after the

tip has passed them.  If part of the obstacle is above ground level,

such as a chair or a car, part of the cane will pass under it before

making contact, and you will be glad to have the added length.  You may

think that the longer the cane, the more it will get tangled up in

whatever is ahead of you, but that can happen with any length of cane.  



There is one other factor that I must consider for my cane: will it fit

in the family car?  The answer is: "Yes, but I have to work at it a

bit."  The way that is best for me is to bring the handle end in first

and push it back as far as possible between the seat and the side of the

car.  I try to get it under the seat belt anchor and as low as possible,

where it won't trip back seat passengers going in and out.  The last

thing is to make sure the tip end is in the car and not sticking out

between the door and the frame.  I am not the only person to destroy a

cane that way.  I am afraid I have made the process sound harder than it

is.  A couple of pushes and a pull get the cane in position, and it

takes less time than fastening a seat belt.



What Should the Cane Be Made Of? 



I have used canes made of wood, aluminum tubing, solid fiberglass,

fiberglass tubing, and carbon fiber compound tubing.  Each material has

different characteristics of strength, weight, and flexibility.  Each

one sounds different as it strikes the ground.  I have not used wooden

canes or canes with curved handles since the 1950's.  White support

canes are available for people who need a cane to lean on.



Aluminum tubing canes are relatively heavy and strong.  They do not

break.  If they are bent a little, they will straighten out.  With a

little more pressure, they will stay bent; very few people have the

coordinated strength to return aluminum canes to their original

condition.  Slightly bent canes may not look as pretty as straight ones,

but you can use them for a long time.  



Solid fiberglass canes (called rigid because they have no joints) are

both strong and flexible, and I like that combination of qualities. 

They weigh less than aluminum canes, and more than the next two hollow

canes.  Solid fiberglass will take quite a bend and still straighten. 

If they are bent past a certain point, they will split into long

splinters which are dangerous to touch.  The cane will probably get you

home in that condition, but beware the splinters.  



 Hollow fiberglass is lightweight and very easy to handle.  It has a

nice bounce to it, but will only take a moderate bend without breaking. 

That is, it may not withstand tripping someone.  When it breaks, hollow

fiberglass tends to crush and fall apart very soon.  



Carbon fiber canes are fairly stiff and have only a little bounce.  They

are light weight and easy to handle.  Compared to hollow fiberglass, the

carbon fiber cane is somewhat stronger and lasts a little longer after a

break.  



I do not know any cane that will withstand being caught in a car door

unscathed.  I keep a spare cane at home.



Let us consider folding canes.  Do not let yourself fall into the trap

of thinking you are hiding your blindness by using a folding cane. 

Also, for at least the duration of the learning stage, I strongly

recommend a one-piece cane.  There are many blind people who use a

folding cane all the time and find it fully satisfactory.  For several

years I was one of them.  The previous section on the length of the cane

should still be considered.  I often take my folding cane to church,

restaurants, theaters; places where it may not be as convenient to stow

the one-piece cane. 



Many folding canes are made of aluminum tubing sections with some kind

of elastic in the middle to pull the sections together.  Each producer

has his own variation on the way the sections join, so you must make

your own choice.  Some canes are made of concentric tubing that

collapses each one into the next.  If you pull each section out firmly

and give it a slight twist, it should stay in position during your trip. 

Both fiberglass and carbon fiber compound are available in this

telescoping style.



How and Where Do You Hold the Cane? 



The handle goes diagonally across my palm and rests on the extended

index finger.  The other fingers curl around, and the thumb points over

the handle and down the cane.  The palm is vertical as when extended to

shake hands.  That is the classic grip which I use most of the time.  In

close quarters I slide my hand down the cane and narrow the swing.  I

may shift my grip and hold the cane like a long pencil.  You can't swing

the cane much in that position, but you don't want to swing it much

because of the crowd.  In very close, slow-moving crowds such as in

theater lobbies or a line to board a bus, I may just hold the cane

diagonally across my body and slide the cane along in front of my left

foot.  At other times I may shift my grip to ease fatigue or for no

special reason.  



The firmness of the grip should be moderate, neither so tight that you

never let go--you'll break the cane when it gets caught in a crack--nor

so loose that every obstacle knocks it out of your hand--you'll have to

chase it too often. 



I swing the cane from side to side with pressure of the wrist and

fingers.  The hand swings like a door with the hinge at the wrist. 

Pretty soon you will be almost flipping the cane back and forth with an

easy, unconscious motion. 



My first teacher told us to hold the cane just below the belt buckle

with the forearm braced against the hip.  From that central position the

cane can be tapped evenly from side to side.  This position is good for

beginners, and some people stay with it.  Over the years my cane hand

has drifted to the side by my pocket.  In either position, hold your

hand out a few inches so you do not impale yourself when the cane hits a

stop.  Your whole arm can move to take up the shock.



When you are standing still, hold the cane vertically near your body

with a light grip.  That is, I don't think you want to look like a

shepherd leaning on his staff. 



There will be times, walking or standing, when you want to reach out and

check a particular landmark or shoreline.  Be sure you are not going to

trip someone with the sudden motion, reach out, and then bring your arm

back to the original position.  The point is that you should hold the

cane in a manner and position so as to reach where you need to with

comfort and without undue fatigue. 



Many canes have a loop of chain or string through the handle which is

for the purpose of hanging up the cane when it is not in use.  Do not

put your hand through the loop when you are walking.  If something

should happen to pull the cane out of your hand, it is better to drop

the cane than to be pulled down with it.



You may think I don't care how you hold your cane.  I do think that

there is more than one way and more than one place to hold the cane. 

However and wherever you hold the cane, give yourself protection for the

full width of your body.  The purpose of the grip and position is to

make it possible to tap the cane from side to side, which is the subject

of the next section, and that is very important.  



                  3.  Actually Walking Around



Walking with the Cane, Rule One



My first travel teacher taught us Rule One: "When the body is in motion,

the cane is in rhythm." That means: tap the cane from side to side, one

tap per step, about two inches beyond the width of your shoulders.  Keep

the tip low, but not constantly dragging on the ground. 



The idea of Rule One is to clear an area, and step into it.  Clear the

next area, and step into it.  You can do it faster than you can say it. 

As you step left, tap right; as you step right, tap left.  As a

beginner, you may think that swinging the cane beyond your shoulders is

too wide, but you will learn soon enough that you need the width.  With

the right length of cane and using this technique, you can learn to walk

safely and with confidence.  You will locate obstacles and drop-offs,

and be prepared for them.  If you keep the taps at a steady two inches

beyond your shoulders, it will help to even out your stride and keep you

walking straight.  In crowds or other close quarters, shorten up on the

handle and narrow your swing.  You are still a member of the human race,

so remember your basic courtesies.  



The cane, of course, will not find every small obstacle on the ground. 

It can go around an obstacle the size of a brick, but it will find

things larger than that.  Sometimes there are holes in the sidewalk, and

the cane may go completely over a dip the size of a dinner plate or a

place mat.  True, the cane is not perfect, but nothing else is, either. 

Sighted or blind, everyone has stories of how they tripped over or

stepped into something.  



The cane can tell you what is ahead, but be sure to give it the chance

to do that.  If you are about to turn in an open area or go around a

corner, let the cane clear the area before you step there.  The

headlights on a car point straight ahead and do not look around the

corner before the car turns.  With a cane you can and should check the

area where you are about to turn and step; side-stepping can be

dangerous.  



There are many un-numbered lesser rules, but always remember Rule One:

"When the body is in motion, the cane is in rhythm." 



Planning Practice Routes 



In the beginning a straight route is suitable.  Try walking up and down

your block a time or two while concentrating on Rule One.  As you walk

you may find a "shoreline" on one side: a wall, a fence, or grass.  Let

your cane touch the shoreline each time the swing goes to that side.  It

can help to keep you on course.  Shorelines have breaks and

irregularities which soon become landmarks to help you keep track of

where you are.  Soon you will be walking around the block, if your

neighborhood is laid out that way, and returning to the starting point. 

You will find both fixed and movable obstacles, all part of cane travel.



How can you match your next challenge to your level of experience?  You

may just go a little farther every day.  Guided practice can be helpful

if you can get it, but I mentioned that at the beginning, so I will not

belabor the point.  



Going Up and Down Stairs



You're not going to be a flatlander for the rest of your life.  Almost

every building has stairs or steps somewhere.  



You are at the bottom of the stairs, about to go up.  Some stairs have

hand-rails, and some don't, and you need to be able to use either kind. 

If you are using the hand-rail, put your cane in the other hand.  Either

way, The cane can tell you how high and deep the first step is.  I slide

my hand part-way down the cane and hold it diagonally across my body. 

The cane taps two or three steps ahead of my feet.  Going up and down

stairs is almost the only place I will tell you not to swing the cane

from side to side.  At the top, resume Rule One.  



When going down, locate the top step first with the cane, then with the

foot.  Whether or not you use the hand-rail, hold the cane diagonally

across your body.  Let the cane tip slide off each step as you go.  At

the bottom, resume Rule One.  There are complications such as landings

with or without turns.  No one can list all the tricks that architects

can imagine.  Let your cane go first, and pay attention to what it says. 





After this, you will be going up and down the ordinary hills and valleys

of the outdoor world.



Listening to Traffic on the Street as a Guide





Cars are a common part of the world we live in.  Cars usually drive

straight along streets and turn at corners.  Yes, I know ... but there

are crazy blind pedestrians just as there are crazy sighted drivers.  



I have found that a steady stream of traffic is one of the best helps

there is.  By listening to traffic I can tell how far away the street

is, if the street runs straight or turns, where the intersection is, and

which color is showing on the traffic light.  I use traffic as an

audible shoreline.  



When you are walking around the block for practice, I recommend that you

do not turn the corner when you think you are there.  Go all the way to

the curb, then back up a few steps and turn.  It is easy for beginners

to turn too soon and find themselves without the expected landmarks. 

Now that you have learned about walking straight and listening to

traffic, let's go on to crossing streets.  



Crossing Streets with No Traffic 



For purposes of practice, use a street with as little traffic as

possible.  Because many corners are rounded off for the convenience of

turning traffic, you cannot just walk straight away from the curb.  You

need to find something as a guide to be sure you are starting off

straight across the street.  That guide may be part of the curb beyond

the curved section at the corner.  It may be the dividing lines in the

sidewalk.  It may be the curb ramp for wheelchairs, but be sure that the

ramp is aimed directly across the street and not diagonally out into the

intersection.  It may be traffic either going your way or crossing in

front of you.  When you locate your guide, line yourself up with it so

that you are facing directly across the street.  Listen carefully to be

sure that no cars are approaching from the side or around the corner.  



Having checked your direction and your safety, step off the curb and

walk.  Go quickly without rushing.  Remember Rule One.  There can be

obstacles or holes in the street as well as anywhere else.  When you

come to the far side, sweep the curb with your cane before stepping up. 

It is common to find signposts near intersections, and I have found some

with my head because I didn't find them with my cane.  Did you cross

straight and arrive at the sidewalk?  If not, and I don't always,

myself, pause to make an educated guess from your surroundings, and make

the necessary corrections.  There you are across the street.  Now you

can go on your way.  



Which Way Can Cars Turn At Intersections? 



When you consider intersections, you need to know the directions and

paths that cars take when they go through or turn.  That is: if you are

facing a street with the intersecting street on your right, and each

street allows two-way traffic, a left-turning car can go from the middle

lane on your right to the middle lane in front of you.  If you are

crossing then, the car will appear to approach from behind your right

shoulder.  If your experience does not include such information, it is

time to learn.  You can either observe for yourself or ask for help. 

There are many combinations of factors to know about including one-way

streets, right turn on red, special turning lanes, traffic islands, and

traffic lights to accommodate all of these.  All drivers out there have

to learn the rules of traffic, and you are just as smart as they are. 

Learn them one at a time as you find them.  



Environmental Clues and Mental Maps



In some ways, this section is the heart of cane travel.  By using your

cane, which I do, or a little sight, which I do not do, you are only

extending the range of your perception a few feet.  By listening to the

sounds around you and the nature of those sounds, you are extending the

range of your perception for many feet, sometimes hundreds of feet.  The

mind has the greatest reach, and can consider distances from inches away

to miles away, and objects the size of a bump in the sidewalk to a

sports stadium.  The mind can form a mental picture or map arranging

landmarks along in the right order.  Then it can check off each point as

you pass it.  The mind coordinates all your knowledge, information,

senses and skills, so let us use this marvelous mind of ours.  



Rule One says: "When the body is in motion, the cane is in rhythm." The

cane is good at gathering short-range information for you to act on. 

The mind needs to be aware of the messages that the cane is sending. 

The cane sends such messages as:  the next step is clear, stop, jog to

the side, make a sharp turn, step up or down.  



I am sure you have heard someone talking who, in the middle of a

sentence, turned his head or put his hand over his mouth.  You noticed

the change in the character of the sound.  The same kind of change

happens when the speaker walks around a corner.  We can learn to hear

these same changes outside while we are walking.  



When I became blind, I began to listen to sounds more carefully.  Even

when I was told about some sounds, I did not notice them.  I learned

gradually, not all at once.  For me, "gradually" meant from a few weeks

to a few years.  



I found that the sound of a car driving down the street changed when it

passed by a parked car or a tree.  The first time I remember noticing

that effect was when I was still sighted, but temporarily blind.  That

is, I walked between two parked cars in a very dark parking lot and

"heard" them, even though they were standing still.  What I heard was

the sound shadow, the difference in the background sound as these large

objects blocked part of what I heard.  It makes no difference what you

call this effect, but it may help you if you use the experience. 

Sometimes you can identify or locate an object by noticing the air

currents moving around it, be it a natural breeze or caused by human

action.



When you walk down a hall in a large building, you sometimes pass a door

with noise coming out of it.  You may approach the intersection of

another hall where people are passing by in front of you.  The time may

come when you notice the open door or the intersecting hall just by the

nature of the background sound.  



There are more than the five senses of touch, taste, smell, sight, and

hearing.  There is the sense in our muscles that tells us where our

various body parts are.  There are also the senses of time and distance. 

These two work together and can be put to use keeping track of where we

are.  



At home and work, I know about how big the rooms are and how long the

halls are, so I get used to how long it takes to cross a room or to get

to the end of the hall.  Having gone far enough, I anticipate the next

thing to do, which is usually to turn a corner or enter a doorway.  When

walking outside, we make use of the same senses.  We just expand the

distances.  



One more of the senses is the sense of turning.  This sense is not exact

to me.  I can identify turns better when I am going fast than when I am

going slow.  Sometimes I walk around a gentle curve and do not know how

much I have turned, or that I have turned at all.  I wish I could do

better.  



Once, just for practice, a friend and I stood between a table and a wall

and tried to turn exactly 90 degrees back and forth.  It helped

somewhat.  This sense, alone, is not reliable to me, but it is a help

when combined with the other senses.  



As a new travel student, I asked my teacher, "How can I go two or three

blocks this way, and four or five blocks that way, and find the barber

shop?" I learned later how much of a "beginner's question" that was.  It

is like the algebra student who comes to the first class and opens the

book in the middle, only to ask, "How can I ever solve that problem?"

The answer is that you start at the beginning, and later, when you pass

that point in the book you find that it was just one more step along the

way.  Long ago I found that I could make use of general directions, and

I did find the barber shop.  



I can usually keep track of where I am by checking off local landmarks

and noticing distances, but sometimes I do get confused, disoriented, or

simply "lost." I ask directions or pick out a particular spot and do

some limited exploring.  I may have been a block short, 90 degrees off

course, or even right on course but not aware of it.  I may feel stupid

for a minute, but I get "found" and go on my way.  



I learn easily from spacial displays.  I like two-dimensional paper

maps, but they are hard to find.



When I think of where I'm going, I map out my route in my head.  For

some people, maps are of no help at all.  They do not want to know north

and south.  Just tell them left or right, and how far it is.  I can work

from either kind of directions.  We all have different abilities, notice

different landmarks, and go on different trips, so use the things that

help you.



Compass directions can be a very useful tool.  First, you need to know

that North and South are opposite each other, and that East and West are

opposite each other.  When you face North, West is to the left and East

is to the right.  Many cities try to have some orientation to the

compass, but there are usually a few streets that curve or are just not

straight with the compass.  When walking inside a large building, it may

be helpful to identify halls by compass directions.



Let me end this section with a set of directions I once gave to a friend

of mine.  "Go out of the building and turn left to the corner.  Cross

the street to the right and go south, down to the next corner.  You need

to cross the intersection both ways, and end up going left, east, for

two blocks.  That is where you come to the big, wide street with the

traffic island on the far side and the separate light for the small

street beyond it.  When you get across there, turn right, and you will

be going slightly down-hill.  A little way down the block, the street

makes a slight turn to the left.  From that point on, there are several

store entrances that are similar.  The one you want is the fourth or

fifth one, but it is the only one with a rubber doormat." He said he

went right to it.  



Expanding Your Horizons 



If you are starting cane travel without formal training, you will meet

these conditions in no special order.  You can learn them as you come to

them.  



An experienced guide or teacher can be of help in judging the degree of

your ability so as to present new challenges at the right time with the

right degree of complication.  Do you need more practice going around

the block so you don't get confused crossing the alley?  Do you still

pass that store that is set back from the street?  Are you keeping track

of the landmarks along the route so you know when to turn into the

office you wanted to find?  On a round-trip, can you get back to your

starting point?  



Landmarks can be such things as a particular arrangement of signposts,

mailboxes, lawns, bushes, driveways, barking dogs, busy streets, broken

sidewalks, hot-dog stands and gas stations.  I have deliberately

mentioned things that you feel with a cane, feel with your feet, hear or

smell.  All of these things have, at times, been landmarks for me. 

Every blind traveler will develop his own local list of landmarks.  



Do you need to take a route down a narrow sidewalk with parking meters

every ten feet?  That will help you learn how wide to swing your cane

and how to get it untangled from obstacles.  Do you need to take a route

along a very wide sidewalk with crowds of people going both ways, or no

other people going either way?  That will help you develop your ability

to walk straight.  



By the way, what is "walking straight?" It is a matter of keeping the

goal ahead of you and making a series of minor course corrections.  As

you gain experience in swinging your cane evenly, as you pick up a

little bit of speed, as you make use of more landmarks, and as you

identify more sounds around you, you will find that you are walking

straight.  I listen in all directions, but we usually walk in the

direction we are looking, so keep your face straight ahead.



Every now and then someone calls to me, usually from at least 20 feet

away, while I am crossing a street, "Straighten out, you're walking

crooked!" Of course, had I known I was walking crooked, I would already

have made my own corrections.  It finally occurred to me that what these

people are trying to say is, "You are going off at an angle to the

desired direction, and it would be well to alter your course slightly."

The person has an idea of what the ideal course would be, but they did

not tell me which way to go, left or right.  At times like that, I make

a quick decision based on what is around me.  Oh, when will people learn

to be more specific and do it without informing the whole neighborhood? 



As I walk down a block in either a business or residential area, I

listen to what is around me and what is ahead of me.  What is ahead soon

becomes the next intersection.  By the time I arrive I usually know what

the traffic condition is and which street has the green light.  If you

can learn to add this trick to your list, it will keep you going more

smoothly.  



One Dangerous Situation to Avoid 



Let me tell you of one time not to cross a street.  When a car that

could go past stops, and the driver calls to you, "Go ahead, I'll wait

for you," and especially if there is an empty lane beside the car, do

not cross.  The time will come when a second driver will not see you and

will zip past at speed.  Why not?  The lights were with him.  I have

narrowly escaped injury in such a situation.  I went to the funeral of a

couple who were caught in just such a situation.  Having learned my

lesson, I sometimes have to turn and walk away from the curb a few steps

in order to convince the driver that I will not cross then.  



Crossing Big, Busy Intersections 



Busy intersections usually have traffic lights with lots of cars going

through.  I use the sound of the traffic to show where, when, and how

far I need to go.  Consider the possibility of such things as traffic

islands and multiple phases in the traffic lights.  With as much traffic

as there is, you could line up your shoulders parallel with the cars

crossing in front of you, or find some mark on the sidewalk to point you

straight across the street.  Do not start part-way through a cycle on a

"stale green" light.  I am always wary of people who tell me, "You can

go now.  There's no one coming."  Where I live, drivers observe traffic

lights more strictly than pedestrians do.



The movement of traffic tells me when the light changes in my favor.  I

may pause, but just for a moment, to be sure that no cars are turning 

in front of me.  It is time to step down and walk quickly, using Rule

One.  If there are other pedestrians, go with them.  There is some

safety in numbers.  I listen to the cars going my way, and follow the

direction they take.  This is the time to listen, feel, and think in all

directions.  Sometimes there is turning traffic for which you must

either speed up or slow down.  The other side of the street really does

exist, and you can get there.  By now the last of the cars going your

way are passing you on one side, and you are passing the cars waiting on

the street you are crossing on the other side of you.  Now here is the

curb.  Sweep it off, step up, and go on your way.



What Goes Through My Mind While Walking Down a Street?



When I was a child I used to hear of people who could dance and talk

with their partner at the same time.  I thought they had to be very good

dancers to do that.  When I grew older and learned to dance, I found

that it wasn't as hard as I thought it would be.  When a blind person

walks down a sidewalk, swinging a long white cane, some of the same

physical and mental coordination is going on.  When walking with a cane

you coordinate your own speed and rhythm with your surroundings.  There

are lots of things you anticipate, notice, and then pass by.  Come along

as I take a six-block walk through a downtown area.



As I get off the bus, I let the cane tell me if I am in the street or on

the curb.  It's a deep step to the street.  The first swing of the cane

finds the curb.  The rest of the swing clears the curb, and I step up

and go in about two more steps.  Now I am at the sidewalk.  Along this

street there are sections of grassy tree lawn, so I have to keep back

from the curb about this distance.



I turn right and get Rule One going.  There's traffic in the street on

the right, and I'll try to stay an even distance from it.  It sounds

like people standing and talking near the edge of the walk, so I need to

curve around them.  Now there's grass on the right, so let the cane

touch it on each swing to that side.  The grass won't last long, but

it's a good shoreline while it's there.



Some lady in high heels is trying to trot past me.  I must not be going

fast enough for her.  So what!  I walk faster than some people and

slower than others.  I'll follow those heels to the end of the block.  



I must be nearing the end of the block.  I can hear cars crossing in

front of me.  I should go clear out to the curb on this block.  I have

turned to go around the corner too soon on other trips here and found

myself where I didn't want to be and wasn't sure where I was.  At a time

like that I try to reverse my course and get back to a known location.  



There's the corner with its wheel chair ramp.  I back up a step, turn

left, and get Rule One going again.  There's no good shoreline on this

side of the walk.  On the return trip there's a good shoreline, a nice

cement curb along the inner edge of the walk.  Sometimes I drift over

and take that side of the walk, anyway.  This time I listen hard to the

traffic on the right and keep it just so far from me.  "Oh drat!" I got

too close, and the tree is trying to brush my hair for me.  People are

approaching from ahead, so I narrow the swing of the cane on the left a

bit.  



There's traffic crossing in front of me, again.  I need to notice how

long it keeps moving since this time I must cross the street.  "Five

seconds--ten seconds."  No, it changed.  Now the cars are going my way. 

Will I have time to get there before the green light goes stale?  "Ten

seconds--fifteen--twenty."  No, too late.  Lights change every thirty

seconds in this part of town, so I would rather wait for a fresh start. 

I'm not perfectly accurate on counting seconds, but I'm close enough to

give myself a good idea of when to expect the lights to change.  The

light changes; no cars turning; I walk; and, what do you know, right up

the ramp on the other side.  



The next block has a wide sidewalk with tall buildings on the left. 

There is something going on at the lower edge of my awareness, and I

don't think of it most of the time.  Background noise reflects off this

continuous wall of buildings, and "hearing that wall" makes it easier

for me to keep a steady distance from it.  These next four blocks have

the same feature, but the only time I think of it is in the last block

when an alley makes a break in the wall.  The cane keeps swinging,

according to Rule One, but that is almost as unconscious an act as

moving my feet.



Both street and pedestrian traffic are heavier here.  There is a person

calling out at the far end of the block.  Drawing nearer I can tell it

is a woman selling fruit.  I give her a little more space on the right. 

There is plenty of traffic to mark the intersection.  Just as I come

even with the fruit woman, there is a shift in the surrounding noise,

and I have passed the buildings.  Now which direction was the light

green?  I wasn't paying enough attention to that.  There are cars

crossing in front of me, so I'll just walk slowly up to the curb.  There

are plenty of cars and people to define the red and green light.



Here's the green light, and all the pedestrians are going, which means

that no cars are turning.  It's a wide street, and I go at a quick pace. 

At other times I have found a sign post half way across at the edge of

the crosswalk, but if I keep to the right I should avoid it.



I do a mental juggling act to balance all the values.  Don't get too

close to the cars on the right; avoid the sign on the left; don't trip

the pedestrians with the cane; here's the hump in the middle of the

street; it's downhill from here; a car is turning the corner in front of

me; pause, it's bigger than I am; and now, the curb, at last.  Sweep off

the curb, and--whoops!  Don't step up here.  There are several signposts

in the way.  Turn toward the corner with one tap of the cane in the

street and one tap on the curb.  Now the curb is clear, so step up, and

just in time.  Listen a moment to people and cars for a directional

guide, and off we go again.



This block is rather uneventful, and here's the next intersection. 

There is plenty of traffic, so I know when the light's changing, and

there it goes, just in time for me.  It isn't quite a straight crossing,

but half a step to the right is enough of a correction.  I dodge left

around the popcorn stand which shows itself in three ways.  It blocks

the sound of the cars behind it, a sound shadow; the vendor and

customers are talking; and you can guess what the last clue is.



Now, for the last two blocks, and this one is plain vanilla.  The light

changes in my favor just as I pass the last building.  "One thousand,

two thousand, three thousand."  There's the corner, and no cars turning. 

I still have time to make it.



The crossing is OK, and my building is almost at the end of the block. 

There's the alley which is about two-thirds of the way.  It's time to

cross over to the left side of the walk and tap the front of buildings

with each swing of the cane.



What I want is a wide entrance with a foot-thick, metal-covered pole at

the edge of the walk, but all the buildings here are even with the walk. 





Here's a building, more building, a glass door, but it's not set back,

more building ...  "Bother!" There's the corner, so I passed it.  Turn

around and go back.  There's the building; glass door, more building. 

Here are the setback and the pole, my building at last.  Now it's just

two steps and turn right for the swinging door.



Every trip is a bit different, even though some component parts are

similar.  Just disassemble the parts and shake them up before selecting

the items for your next trip.  If you keep your landmarks in mind, use

your basic techniques, and pay attention to things around you; you'll

get there.



Walking with Someone Else



The first thing to remember when you are walking with someone else is

that you are still responsible for your own safety.  The two times I

suffered serious injury while walking were while I was with someone

else.  I falsely and foolishly gave over direction to the sighted person

I thought was guiding me.  In each case the other person considered that

I was managing at least part of my own guidance.  The other person may

choose the main route, guide you around obstacles, let you know at step-

ups and drop-offs, but it is essential for you to pay attention, too.



When I walk with another person, sighted or blind, I find it easier to

stay with them if one of us takes the arm of the other.  Not everyone

likes that physical contact, so I have to divide my attention between

where I am going and where the other person is.  We can stay close

enough for conversation, but the proximity is not as steady.



If you are with a stranger, or even a friend, it is polite to ask: "May

I take your arm?" If they accept your offer, take their arm lightly or

put your hand on their shoulder.  Fall in step.  Regardless of whether

your companion is sighted or blind, continue using Rule One.



Some of my sighted friends and family members are used to guiding me,

and I am confident of their judgment about speed, space, and obstacles. 

Sometimes I walk directly behind if the space is narrow.  When the space

opens up, I step up beside them.  I do not always judge well where the

other person's feet are, and step on their shoes.  I try to judge their

step by the sway of their body, but I don't always get it right.  



Many guides, such as the people you meet at street corners who offer to

help you across the street, are not familiar with how to guide.  I may

just muddle through, or I may take the time to say something like this:

"It is easier if I take your arm.  That way, you will be half a step in

front, and I can anticipate my step by noticing what you do." 



There are circumstances when I make good or bad compromises with the

rules.  With a guide I sometimes walk along with the cane diagonally

across my body while making regular or occasional taps.  Then there was

the time, while rushing through the airport,I had a suitcase in one

hand, my cane and a suitcase in the other hand, my guide had my arm and

the third suitcase.  We cut a wide swath, and I'm glad it was only an

ashtray we knocked over and not a five-year-old.



Walking Without a Cane



We all walk without a cane sometimes, so let's talk about it.  I

remember the rule I read in a book about mountain climbing which said

that you should always use a rope, but you should climb as if you did

not have a rope.



When you are not using a cane, everything else in the environment

becomes more important.  Whatever you can find with any other sense

organ must be evaluated as quickly as possible.  In my own home, I try

to keep doors open or closed all the way.  I swing an arm through a

doorway as I near it, just to be sure I am passing through it neatly. 

Sometimes I touch furniture as I go by.  I pause at the top and bottom

of stairs, and reach with my foot to locate the first step.  When

looking for a doorknob or light switch, I make more of a sweeping motion

than a straight reach.  I sometimes keep my arm across in front of my

waist.



One thing I do not do is to hold my arms straight out with the palms

forward in the traditional sleep-walker's pose.  If I were that

uncertain, I would use my cane.  The cane looks better and is far more

effective.  



I walk more slowly without a cane.  I do not use a cane within my own

home, and rarely enough around my yard.  But that is the boundary.  Once

in a while I will walk a short way around my neighborhood without a

cane.  And one time, because of freak circumstances, I was caught at

night, five blocks from home, on the far side of a traffic circle

without a cane.  I walked very carefully and a little slower than usual,

and made it, but I would not do it if there were another way.



Using a cane is a habit with me, and when I go out, I grab my cane on

the way.



                   4.  Public Transportation



Riding Buses and Streetcars 



 Most trips involve walking at the beginning and end, or even in the

middle, so that many skills are used.  You need to have the route,

destination, and length of the trip in mind before you start.  While

planning your trip, learn the name and/or number of the bus you want. 

Buses for different routes may use the same or nearby stops, and you

will need to ask before boarding. 



You need to know where the stop is: at the corner or around the corner,

back from the corner or across the intersection.  All of these locations

and more are possibilities.  In my boyhood and youth I rode streetcars

that ran in the center lane of the street.  We boarded from an island,

sometimes raised and sometimes painted on the street.  I had to locate

the island by listening to where cars did not run.  



With practice you will learn how fast people shuffle along as they step

up, pay their fare, get a transfer, and find a seat.  Do you need to ask

the driver to call your stop for you?  The time of boarding is a good

time to ask for that help.  Sometimes it is wise to confirm your

destination with the driver as you near it, especially if it is a long

trip.  When you get off, remember all those possible locations of the

bus stop we mentioned at the beginning of the trip.  In unfamiliar

areas, I ask where the stop will be for the return trip. 



Over the years I have made many mistakes such as waiting at the wrong

stop, getting on the wrong bus, getting off too soon or too late, and

more.  I have paid for these mistakes in time and confusion, but I have

learned from them. 



Next I will present a step-by-step account of a trip I take frequently. 

I do this to share what I find necessary and helpful when riding the

bus.  This trip takes me from work to home. 



I go out the door of the building where I work and turn left.  At the

end of the block there is an oblique left where I again go to the end of

the block.  



There are three streets that almost come together here to form a series

of individual intersections.  There are curb cuts for wheelchairs, and

if I use them and walk straight, I hit the ramp on the opposite side. 

At this time of day there is plenty of traffic waiting to go the same

way I do.  I go when they go, stay parallel to the line of cars on the

left, keep between them and the cars waiting their turn on my right.  If

I step up on grass, I am too far to the right, so correct to the left. 

It is about seventy feet to the next corner, and about half of that

distance is taken by the entrance to a gas station.  I can tell when I

am crossing their slanted driveway if one foot is high and one foot is

low. 



I wait through the cycle of lights and cross the next street.  On the

curb I walk in two or three steps and turn right.  The bus stop is a bus

length down, just beyond a plot of dirt with a tree and a trash can. 

There are often other people waiting for the bus. 



There are three routes that use this stop, and two of them will take me

where I need to go.  Some of the drivers have learned to announce their

route as they open the door, so I don't always have to ask.  Often there

are people getting off, so I wait my turn to board.  I step up, put the

fare in the box, ask for my kind of transfer to go across a zone line,

and find a seat. 



Here I digress for a point of philosophy.  Drivers and other passengers

may encourage you or force you to sit in the "priority seating" at the

front of the bus.  The choice is still yours to take it or not.  I

sometimes sit in front and sometimes farther back.  



How do I know where to get off?  This leg of the trip is short enough so

I have learned the pattern of the eight stops.  Even if we miss one, and

at that time of day we usually hit them all, I can account for the

distance.  It goes like this: long, medium, medium, long, very short,

long, medium but often missed, medium.  After six I get up, approach the

driver and ask.  I actually count stops on my fingers, but please don't

tell my third grade teacher! 



The stop where I get off is near the corner, so I walk the few feet and

check for the direction of traffic.  Sometimes I cross with that noisy

bus beside me, but I feel safe because no traffic is coming through that

bus.  The stop for the next bus is just to the right where I have to

thread my way between a trash can, a telephone stand, and a newspaper

vending machine, all good landmarks.  



For this bus and the next my only fare is my transfer.  We go through a

distinctive set of turns and up a long hill, but I don't have to notice

while going home because I ride to the end of the line.  



At this terminal, I walk straight away from the bus, then turn to follow

the sidewalk beside the turn-around used by several of the buses.  I

dodge people, benches, and supporting pillars, and turn out at the

second exit, which puts me right at the fire plug beside my bus stop. 

This time I can only take one of the three buses that stop here, and

sometimes they line up, so I may have to back up fifty feet for mine.  I

have made a few "bus stop" acquaintances who sometimes give me the word.





This leg of the trip takes about twenty minutes.  We start off around

the terminal and, after a quarter of a mile, in, around, and out of a

traffic circle.  Those turns are distinctive.  We go about four miles

with very few people getting on or off.  Then we come to a major

intersection for which we must wait through at least one cycle of the

lights and with the stop after we cross.  After the next stop, which we

do not always make, the bus makes an oblique left turn, and I sigh with

relief because it is my last landmark.  I get up when the bus shifts

into high gear.  At my stop I go back across the street we just crossed

and walk two short blocks to my home. 



I know that this description is long, but it is the "one bite at a time"

approach to eating an elephant.  No two trips are exactly the same, but

you may find some of these techniques useful as you develop your own. 



Subways, Escalators, and Elevators 



The first thing people want to know about subways is the location of the

platform edge.  I slide my cane tip along to locate the edge, step back

from it, and respect it.  As I walk along subway platforms, I walk a

little slower than usual, and I swing my cane a little wider than usual. 

I also slide the cane on the surface, the only time I use this otherwise

poor technique.  I want to know immediately if the cane drops over the

edge.  I expect people to criticize me about this point, so go ahead. 

The one thing I do not do is step sideways.  The cane has been ahead of

me, not to the side.  



When the train comes, and after the door opens, put the cane tip on the

floor of the car before you step in just to be sure you are not trying

to enter the gap between cars.  When you get off, let the cane tip go

first to be sure that there is a platform waiting for you.  



Are there stairs, escalators or elevators to take you up and down? 

Stairs have been discussed earlier.  For escalators, I only know one

warning and two tricks, and they are not exclusive to blind people.  The

warning is that an escalator is a powerful, moving machine.  Cooperate

with it as it helps you, and you will get there.  Use the hand-rail, and

don't play around.  The first trick is, if I am not sure if an escalator

is going up or down, I pause in front of it and feel the hand-rail.  The

other trick is one of balance as I step on or off a moving platform. 

When I step on, and I feel the stair treads dividing under my feet, I

step up or down so that my whole foot is on one tread, not divided

between treads, but that is no trick.  It is just common sense.  



Treat elevators with the same respect you treat the platform edge.  Let

the cane tell you that there is something solid ahead of you to step on. 

This is no time to enact bad elevator jokes.



Airports, Train and Bus stations 



Transportation terminals tend to have several features in common.  There

are long distances to cover and large open areas with arrangements of

furniture in the middle.  The ticket counter is relatively close to the

entrance, relative to the size of the terminal, that is. 



The next part of the trip may cover several hundred yards of corridors

including an array of modern miracle transportation: moving sidewalks,

people movers, monorails and more.  Little children think they are fun;

I must be getting old.  At the end of this part of the trip you must

find just the right door and play the ticket game again. 



You may be able to get most or all the way by yourself, but if you need

help in finding your way, there is no use in being shy about asking for

help.  A personal guide may range from necessary to helpful to

bothersome.  As hard as it sometimes is to find help when you need it,

sometimes it is harder to get rid of help when you don't want it any

more.  Some trips are once and never again, and I need more help then. 

Some trips are regulars, and I need little if any help then.  



The job of the blind traveler is to learn and keep in mind the gate

number and departure time.  The guide, then, needs only to locate and

steer, not to investigate and govern.  The guide may try to investigate

and govern, anyway, but it is your trip, not theirs.  You make the

decisions, so you stay in control.  



In my experience, one of the distinct features of airports is the

departure lounge.  That is where you may have your ticket taken away

from you, be pre-boarded, be helped at the right or wrong time with the

right or wrong amount of help.  



I have found it informative to hear what airline personnel say to each

other about me.  "Should we take his ticket?" That was when I clutched

my ticket and gently found a seat to wait in.  It was not the same seat

I had before I went up to ask my question, but I still had my ticket and

boarded when I chose.  



There was the time when three flights were called before mine.  Everyone

walked around the edge of the lounge, avoiding the central area.  I

decided that benches or plants must be blocking that area.  I could hear

where tickets were being taken.  When my flight was called, I took the

"round" trip and found the departure gate myself.  That was when I

heard, "He didn't ask for any help."  I don't always insist on being

that independent, but that day I did.  



Train stations may or may not be as big as airports, but they share the

same obstacles.  Trains are long, so platforms have to be long.  Some

train platforms are raised above the level of the tracks, so remember

the rules from the subway lesson.  Locate the platform edge, and respect

it.  Do not step sideways.  Let your cane tell you that there is

something solid to step on: up, down, and level.  



Bus stations range in size from a driveway beside a small-town drug

store to a city block or more.  In bus stations, you need to get to the

right boarding gate,  and there is often a loud noise when you get

there.  Sometimes the distance from the boarding gate to the bus door is

short and obvious, and you can find it easily.  Sometimes the bus you

want is behind or beyond three others, all of which are roaring along

with their engines on "high idle".  If you know where to go, then go

ahead.  Remember Rule One.  If you don't know where to go, ask for help. 

All that noise to a blind person masks other useful sounds.  The

equivalent situation to a sighted person would be turning out the lights

or flooding the area with fog.



       5.  Times and Places without the Usual Landmarks



Grocery Stores



If I am going alone, and I know what I want and where it is, I find

movement easiest with my cane in front while holding the front end of

the grocery cart and pulling it behind me.  It steers better that way. 

If I am shopping with another person, I find that store aisles are too

narrow for two people and a cart.  That is when I follow my guide with

my hand on a shoulder.  The cart needs to go at the front or the back of

the procession, a matter of personal choice.



Most of the time I am an organized shopper, preparing my grocery list

beforehand.  If I know the layout of the store, I think of each section

and decide what to buy as I mentally walk around.  If the store is new

to me, and all stores are new the first time, I do some preparation,

anyway.  The more I am going to buy, the more help I need, so I ask the

store for one of their staff to help in my selections.  You have to be

specific when designating items: tuna, oil packed or water packed;

cereal, which size; bananas, how green.  Finding a time that is good for

you to shop and the store to help is a matter of juggling schedules.



In years past, I used a two-wheeled fold-up cart for pulling my

groceries home.  The cart had a bad habit of getting too close and

running over my heel.  In order to keep the cart in its place behind me,

I held my arm straight down and against my side.  That position kept the

wheels back from me.  



How Do You Walk in Ice, Snow, and Rain? 



Ice, snow, and rain have this in common: they make the footing slippery. 

How do I keep from giving a skating demonstration and falling on my

dignity?  I walk a little slower, keep my knees slightly bent, and take

shorter steps.  I also put my feet down flat, not striding out with the

heel landing first.  I may not move fast, but I do move and stay

upright.  



If the snow is light or fresh, I dig my cane through it, and with the

combination of sound and touch I can tell what is there.  If the snow is

too deep to dig through or it is packed and frozen, the cane must find

something above the surface to identify as a landmark.  Sometimes packed

snow on the sidewalk and loose snow beside it show enough difference to

help.  Taller landmarks are helpful, such as bushes, fences, sign posts,

and parked cars.  Snow covers many of the usual landmarks, but it can

become a landmark, itself.  One winter it stayed so cold for so long

that I used a particular snow bank as a landmark on the way to a

friend's house.  



When the snow is deep and soft, it weighs down branches which hang in

front of you.  One advantage of a long cane is that you can reach up and

tap a branch so it will release its burden of snow before you walk under

it.  Well, it works sometimes. 



The world sounds different with a covering of snow.  Echoes disappear. 

Distances expand.  I navigate more by dead reckoning and less by my

usual landmarks. 



Rain may not change the footing as much as snow and ice do, but it can

change the sound of things in its own way.  Cars hissing by on wet

streets mask other sounds.  Rustling raincoats do the same.  Hats,

scarves and hoods all influence what you hear in different ways, and you

may want to think of that along with the weather.  I am rarely out in

rain so hard that it covers all other sounds.  



It may take longer to get places in the rain.  I often listen harder and

wait longer to know where things are and when things happen.  Here is

another practical use for the long cane: finding the depth and width of

curbside puddles.



How About Suburban and Rural Roads with No Sidewalks?



I like to get routes, distances, and landmarks well in mind before

starting.  There is more area in which to get lost, and fewer people

from whom to ask directions.  I take my longest cane and swing it rather

widely.  I move along at a good clip because there are greater distances

to cover.  I still have to stay alert for traffic on the road, as well

as mailboxes and ditches beside it.  



I usually stay on the shoulder of the roadway, but sometimes I take

short excursions to explore for a sidewalk which may appear for a while,

or a front walk, driveway, or other landmark that would help me keep

track of what is about and around.  I like to stay close to the road,

because that is the main landmark.  The direction of the sun, wind, and

distant sounds can also be used as a guide and landmark.  



Are There Roads and Intersections Unsafe for Any Pedestrian? 



I am one of those people who finds the "wet paint" sign and wonders if

the paint is still wet.  That same rebellious, disbelieving streak comes

out when people tell me not to attempt certain streets or intersections

because they are too dangerous or complicated for me.  I always wonder

if they mean "because I am blind." 



I usually learn something about these places before testing them for

myself.  Is there another street or intersection a block or two from

there that would get me to my destination just as well?  The answer is

sometimes "yes" and sometimes "no." I know some "nervous nay-sayers" who

simply have no faith in the travel abilities of blind people.  I also

know some "supporting stalwarts" who recognize realistic obstacles.  



When it comes time for me to make my own decision, I take it slowly,

allowing plenty of time on my schedule.  I also pick an off-peak time

for traffic.  There is no doubt about it, I have made mistakes! Once I

found that the roadway dropped immediately into a 3-foot wide ditch at

the bottom of a 50-degree hill.  The cars going by fanned me with their

breeze.  I never went back there.  Another time I walked over an area of

hedges, potted plants, no proper sidewalks, becoming somewhat

disoriented before coming to the other side.  I was glad I had only gone

through the confusing part of that one, and not the dangerous part.  



Sometimes I have had satisfying success.  I have stood at an

intersection for many minutes, listening to the traffic to learn where

the movement went, and when the directions changed.  Then I decided I

could make it, and did.  To another blind person, I would say, "gather

all your skills and use your best judgment for evaluating the situation

before and during the trip.  If necessary, be willing to find another

route for the next time."



Picnics, Hiking, and Rough Country  



Do you go for picnics or hikes in the country?  When I go on these

trips, I take my sturdiest cane along.  It is just as important here as

anywhere else to use the cane and to keep track of landmarks and

directions.  When I arrive at a new area, I do as many people do; I try

to get an idea of what is around me.  Are there buildings, roads, rocks,

trees, or open areas?  Is there a slope to the land, and what is the

direction of the sun, wind, and noises?  I may do some short-range

exploring while keeping track of my point of reference, be it a car or a

picnic table.



Since I am the only man in my family and the strongest one of us, I get

to carry the picnic cooler from the car to the table, but I still use my

cane.  The cane is held somehow or other in front, whether I am being

guided or carrying this two-handed burden alone.  My shins want the cane

to tell them when we arrive at the bench.



When hiking beside someone else, I still protect myself with the cane. 

Some trails are well-worn and obvious to the feet, so I may walk alone

and use Rule One, the side-to-side swing of the cane.  On some narrow

trails I let my guide take one end of the cane while I hold the other

end.  Since I am without the cane as a bumper, I work out signals with

my partner such as "left around the rock," or "up and over the log."  I

try to get my partner to put the functional word first and not at the

end of a long, descriptive sentence.  By the time I listen to "There's a

bend in the trail up here with a tree on one side and a cliff on the

other, so I guess you'd better stay to the right," I may already have

met my fate.



When it comes to clambering over hills and boulders, some of the cane

technique gets rather informal.  I still use the cane to locate the next

place my foot is going.  Sometimes there is as much poking and probing

as swinging the cane from side to side.  I rarely jump, and only when I

am very sure of where I will land.  When the rocks and hills get very

steep, it may be more practical to slip the cane under my belt or

abandon it altogether, and just use hands and feet.



If you want to use a directional compass, you need to have a good idea

of where you are going before you begin.  You must make the compass work

for you along with the other tools you use.  Keep a record of landmarks,

distances, and compass bearings.  If you are going very far, you need

more instruction in orienteering than I can give you here.



When I am entangled in bushes and trees with interlocking branches as

high as my head, I am usually in someone's back yard or in a city park. 

Only a few times have I been in rough country where this condition

lasted.  If the usual city technique of swinging the cane along the

ground is just not telling you enough, and the branches are getting in

your face, try this.  



Bring the cane up at a diagonal in front of your body, across at head

level, and down at a diagonal to the other side.  For the next step,

reverse the direction.  The path of the cane is an X with a loop at the

top.  I go rather slowly when I do this, and I am usually holding back

branches with my free hand.  This really is a "wild woods" technique. 

Do not use it around people or other works of the human race such as

windows.  IN all the years of travel I have behind me, my total use of

this technique probably does not exceed ten minutes. 



          6.  Care and Feeding of the Long White Cane



Wash, Feed, and Dress Your Cane



The washing part is obvious, but I am a poor one to tell you, since I

don't do it often enough, myself.  Collapsible canes that are held

together by an internal elastic cord need watching.  Keep track of the

wear on the elastic cord, and be smart enough to replace it the day

before it breaks.  Of course, it is better to be a month early than a

day late.  



Cane tips last me anywhere from a few weeks to a few months.  I carry a

spare tip with me most of the time.  A cane tip with a hole in it sounds

different from a tip without the hole, and that is the sign to carry a

spare tip all the time.  I have worn out or lost tips unexpectedly.  The

unprotected end of any cane, especially fiberglass, is damaged quickly

when rubbed against concrete.  Just wave the cane, and keep the tapping

to a minimum.



Does your cane have reflective tape on it?  If not, you could put some

on it anywhere along the stem.  It is an investment in night-time

safety.  Reflective surfaces need to be kept clean or replaced to

maintain their reflective value.  



If you associate with other blind people, as I do, you may want some

unique mark on your cane.  I write my name in braille on Dymo tape and

stick it on the bottom end of the handle.  



Where Does the Cane Go When Not in Use?



When answering this question, you discover the great advantage of the

folding or collapsible cane.  Those styles can fit in a pocket, purse,

on a lap, or under a chair very easily.



There are two horizontal dimensions and one vertical dimension.  Find

some place out of the way; lying on the floor under a chair or table,

standing in a corner, or leaning against a wall.  Be sure that the cane

is lying flat on the floor and not resting on something that holds it an

inch or two above the floor where it will be just high enough to trip

the unsuspecting passer-by.  In some crowded areas "up" is the only way

left.  When I am seated, I sometimes lean the cane from the floor to my

shoulder, hooked behind my heel.



Once in a restaurant, I lost the tip while retrieving the cane from a

tiny place behind the booth.  I remember that incident, and sometimes I

take the tip off before jamming the cane into tight places.  In air

travel stick the cane in some out-of-the-way place, but do not let the

crew take it away from you.  The regulations are now on our side.  



Which Hand Do You Cane With?



The most obvious answer to this question is that you cane with your

dominant hand.  I am right-handed, but I trade off when I carry a heavy

object.  There may be a landmark I want to check on the other side. 

When I am walking with someone else, holding on or not, it may be better

to have the cane on the other side to stay away from feet or another

cane.  If someone is holding my cane arm, it restricts the movement.  I

don't want that.  I have had enough practice with my left hand so that I

am fully adequate, but I am still more comfortable with the cane in the

right hand.  The question of which hand you use is a matter of the

convenience of the moment.



          7.  Thoughts and Experiences on Cane Travel



How Long Does It Take to Learn Cane Travel?



In order to answer this question, you must consider three major variable

factors:  1.  your background; 2.  your aptitude; and 3.  the amount of

time available.



I will give some numbers from my experience, but not until I expand on

these factors.  



Background: Are you familiar with the area where you will be traveling? 

Do you know where some of the streets and buildings are?  Are you used

to the roar of the city, the hush of the suburbs, the quiet of the

country?  Do you know that streets have names and numbers, and that

buildings have numbers, but sometimes have names?  Do you start off

fearful of traffic, or just unfamiliar with it?  Are you familiar with

traffic and the way it moves so that you know what to expect of it?



Aptitude: Are you used to finding your own way, or have people always

taken you places and told you when to stop and go?  Let me mention the

two extremes of aptitude.  



The youth was newly blind and in his late teens.  He came from a rural

setting where he had often gone on cross-country treks when he was

sighted.  There was a touch of youthful rebellion in him.  It seemed as

though his needs would be met by handing him a cane, reading him Rule

One, and getting out of his way.  He did go through several lessons, but

he never needed to repeat them for practice.  He was a natural traveler.



The lady was newly blind and middle-aged.  She was from an urban

setting, but was not used to getting places alone.  She was very

comfortable with her friends in her living room.  During lessons she

made the narrowest possible interpretation of instructions and then

paused to ask, "Is this right?" I could not bring her to the recognition

of her own responsibility to judge each situation.  We parted company

disappointed with each other.  



There are people who would associate some of these characteristics with

being sighted or blind, but I have met people in both groups with odd

mixtures of these characteristics.  



The amount of time available: Time should be measured in two ways: the

number of hours per day and week, and the number of months to be filled

with this schedule.  When I began as a student in a residential

orientation center, I was spending fifteen to twenty hours a week in

guided practice.  It worked well for me.  I have known people who made

good progress with four to five hours of guided practice in a week.  It

seems to me that anything under three hours in a week would be getting

rather thin.  These hours I am talking about are hours spent on specific

skill practice.  They cannot be the only time spent using the cane. 

After all, you are learning these skills to use them in everyday life,

so every time you go out, take your cane and use what you have been

learning.  As with any skill, the more you use it, the faster you will

improve.



The next time you send a letter, grab your cane and walk down to the

corner mailbox.  Find excuses to take short trips here and there.  There

must be some places you want to go, so walk there with your cane.  Take

the cane every time you go out.  It is this kind of constant purposeful

practice that locks in the lessons and speeds the learning process.  If

the only time you use your cane is during the three hours a week you

have lessons, and every other time you go somewhere it is on the arm of

your guide, you are not going to learn how to travel alone.



One thing that helped me a great deal was being with other blind people

who took short trips together.  We walked within the buildings, the

grounds, and out for snacks.  There is nothing like peer pressure,

seeing that they can do it and having them expect you to join them. 

Aren't you just as smart as they are?  And if you are still a beginner,

you don't have to be in front.



I spent an intensive six weeks on travel and reached a satisfactory

level of skill.  Most people I know who worked steadily for several

hours a week, plus out-of-class "just walking around" became good

travelers or made as much progress as they were going to make for a good

foundation in travel in two to three months.  That is from starting as a

beginner.



Can a Blind Person Teach Cane Travel?



By the time I tried teaching other people, I was a good traveler. 

Wherever I lived, I had to learn the area, but there was little

difference in difficulty from one place to the next.  I crossed narrow

and wide streets with straight or angled crossings.  There were traffic

islands and multiple-phase traffic lights with more or less traffic.  I

had to think about some intersections more than others, but I went where

I wanted to go.



When I planned lessons for beginning students, I had to consider the

difficulties of the lesson for each day, and gradually increase the

level of challenge.  That was my first surprise as a teacher.  I scouted

the area of each lesson to identify landmarks, challenges, and hazards. 

Having given route instructions at the beginning of the walk, I then

preceded or followed the student.  There were always certain places

where I wanted to be nearby to evaluate how the student met the

challenge of the day.  The difficulty for any teacher is knowing when to

let the student work out the problem alone, and when to step in with

further instruction.  What we did was very basic.  At first you walk up

and down the block, then around the block.  You cross narrow, quiet

streets, and then busier streets with traffic lights.  You work on short

routes the student wants to accomplish, then longer trips.  Some lessons

are just for practice, but later they are more and more to meet the

student's needs.  You work indoors, outdoors, and take buses.  After a

while, you don't have to repeat lessons for practice.  Just be sure that

the instructions are understood, and send them on their way.  My teacher

ended the course by working us through a 3-1/2 mile hike around a

section of the city.  It gave us students a true sense of accomplishment

to be able to manage that trip and what it had to offer. This seems like

the time for the teacher to say, "You don't need me any more. 

Congratulations, and goodbye." 



No One Has to Do Everything Perfectly



One of the things we all need to do is to find a doorway as we walk

beside a wall.  Many of us slide the cane along at the angle of the

floor and wall until the cane hits the door frame.  That method works,

but I want to point out its weaknesses.  Traffic patterns put us on the

right side of the path; the wall is often on our right; and most of us

are right-handed.  All that means that we are not covering the body with

the cane, thus leaving us open to a collision.  I shift the cane to the

hand opposite the wall to give myself at least some coverage, in case

there is something or someone in the way.  Of course, Rule One says I

should continue tapping the cane from side to side to clear the space in

front of me, but with my stride of two-and-a-half feet I will only touch

the wall every five feet and miss a narrow door.  Sometimes I swing the

cane in the hand away from the wall and slide the near hand lightly

along the wall.  This last method may be the best compromise.  



When I lose track of where I am when I am walking around, and I find

someone of whom I can ask directions, my first question is, "What's the

name of this street?"  I may know enough to find my own way with that

information.  If I have not learned enough, I ask, "How do I get to

...?"  If I have to ask another person later, I ask.



I am a poor judge of the distance ahead of my cane.  I tend to tap

ankles and trip people.  If I want to be sure, I have to give myself far

more space than I really need.  It is even worse if the person ahead is

using a cane, and I hear the tap which is five feet ahead of where they

are.



When I am walking directly behind a guide as we pass through a narrow

space, I often step on the heels of my guide.  I know you are supposed

to be able to tell which foot is forward by the swing of the shoulders,

but I don't always coordinate well.  I have to take very short steps to

keep from stepping on them.  It keeps me out of step, but it also keeps

my feet off of theirs.  



I often have the bad habit of letting my head nod forward.  Didn't we

all have a mother who said: "Keep your head up.  Stand up straight!" 

The practical reason for keeping my head up is to avoid using it as a

bumper.  The cane is supposed to be the bumper.  It is supposed to be in

front all the time.  Better the cane should get scars, not the body.



There are some days I always drift to the right and other days I drift

to the left.  If paying more attention to the line of traffic or to the

shoreline doesn't help, I bring my cane hand back to the middle of my

body and concentrate on keeping the swing of the cane even from side to

side.  "Back to basics" straightens me out.  



The first trip to almost any place usually includes lots of exploration

and false starts.  Sometimes that continues for several trips until I

learn the local geography.  If you can learn faster than I can, more

power to you.



There is one situation when I learned to look lost on purpose.  It is a

crowded theater lobby during intermission when I am trying to find the

men's room.  I take a few steps this way and that way, then pause and

look around with a confused expression on my face.  Pretty soon someone

will offer help, at which point I suddenly regain all my travel skills. 





What About Other Travel Aids, Dogs and Electronics?



I tend to be a practical person.  The rule is: "If it works for you, use

it." I was introduced first to the cane, and was fortunate in that I had

a good teacher.  I learned to travel independently, and it has served me

very well.



There are blind people who travel well with a cane and those who travel

poorly with a cane.  There are blind people who travel well with a guide

dog and those who travel poorly with a guide dog.  I will tell you what

I know about dogs.



Any reputable guide dog school insists on giving travel training along

with the dog, and that is an advantage.  Canes do not come with training

attached.  A dog can offer companionship.  A dog has some memory of its

own and may help in confusing or dangerous situations.  Dogs also make

mistakes, just like their masters.  There is truth in all of these

points.  I like other people's dogs, but I do not want the

responsibilities of feeding, grooming, curbing, and health care that go

with owning a dog.  If it is right for you, do it.  I think it is more

important that you get places conveniently and safely than how you get

there.  It is the human that makes the difference, not the cane or the

dog.  



Over the past several decades, I have heard of electronic travel aids

that were attached to the cane, attached to the forehead, or held in the

hand.  Each one gave off its own sound or vibration.  Each one had

advantages:  locating objects at a distance without touching them,

locating obstacles above cane level, being less "obvious", not always an

advantage.  They have come, and they have gone, and the cane and the dog

remain.  I do not mean to say that there will never be an electronic

travel device that lasts, but it seems to be over the horizon.  The cane

and the dog have been here for many years and are still here.



                           8.  Songs



The White Cane Freedom March

by Thomas Bickford, Debbie Brown, Lloyd Rasmussen and Ken Silberman

To the Tune of: "As Those Caissons Go Rolling Along"



1.  Over hill, over dale, we will hit the concrete trail;

As our white canes go tapping along.

Down the block, cross the street, walking on our own two feet; 

As our white canes go tapping along.

On the job or at home, wherever we may roam,

Yes, independent and free! NFB!

We can find our way at night or in the day;

As our white canes go tapping along.



2.  On a bus, on a train, even flying on a plane; 

As our white canes go tapping along.

As we board, find our seat, no great danger shall we meet;  

As our white canes go tapping along.

We're the able blind, so leave your carts behind.

Don't put us in your holding tanks!  No thanks!

We'll meet no harm. Take back your helping arm.  

As our white canes go tapping along.



3.  On we go at full speed. No contraptions do we need; 

As our white canes go tapping along.

No rough tiles for our feet, nor the traffic signal's tweet;  

As our white canes go tapping along.

No Ph.D.'s, just skillful travelers, please, 

Teaching blind people to be free! NFB!

And the rehab snobs can go and find real jobs;

As our white canes go tapping along.



                The Lament of the Folding Cane

                      by Thomas Bickford

                        to the tune of 

               "A Pretty Girl is Like a Melody"



My folding cane was quite reliable

When it was still brand new.

I'd fold it and then swing it again.

I'd make it small, then use it all

The time, no matter when.



My folding cane is just a memory,

Now that it fell apart.

The elastic stretched and broke.

Four short canes are a joke,

And now my one-piece cane's the cane

That has won my heart.



                       Sources of Canes





In many cities there are organizations which sell white canes that you may

examine before you buy.  The following nine organizations sell canes

through mail order catalogs.  When you compare the catalogs, you will find

that even in this short list some of the equipment comes from common

sources.  Most of these organizations sell a wide variety of items besides

canes, but this booklet is concerned only with canes and related

equipment.  Each catalog has more detail than this summary.  You should

neither order from this summary nor consider it an endorsement.





American Foundation for the Blind, Product Center

100 Enterprise Place

P.O. Box 044

Dover, DE 19903-7044

800-829-0500

FAX:  800-676-3299



Products for People with Vision Problems 



Rigid aluminum 24" to 56"

Folding aluminum 24" to 56"

Variety of replacement tips

Replacement sections for folding canes

Replacement elastic cord

Scotch-Lite replacement coating





Autofold

208 Coleman Street

P.O. Box 1063

Gardner, MA 01440-1063

508-632-0667

FAX:  508-630-3303

CompuServe:  76226,1414



Canes by Autofold 

Support folding 33" and 36"

Support folding 39" (reduceable)

Fiberglass 56" and 59"

Cutting fixture

Folding aluminum 34" to 60"

Cable cane 34" to 60"

Folding fiberglass 

Variety of replacement tips

Replacement cords

Replacement handles and loops

Replacement tube sections

Reflective tape





The Lighthouse, Inc., Low Vision Products

34-20 Northern Boulevard

Long Island City, NY 11101

800-453-4923



Consumer Catalog 



Folding support 33" and 36"

Folding aluminum 34" to 60"

Variety of replacement tips





LS&S Group, Inc.

1808-27 Janke Drive

Northbrook, IL 60062

708-498-9777

800-468-4789

FAX:  708-498-1482



Folding support 33" and 36"

Folding aluminum 32" to 60"

Rigid aluminum 36" to 60"





Maxi-Aids

42 Executive Boulevard

Farmingdale, NY 11735

800-522-6294

Voice/TDD 516-752-0521

FAX:  516-752-0689



Aids and Appliances 



Folding support 33" and 36"

Adjustable aluminum support, 29" to 38"

Folding aluminum 34" to 62"

Rigid aluminum 36" to 60"

Telescopic aluminum

Rigid fiberglass 30" to 64"





National Federation of the Blind, Materials Center

1800 Johnson Street

Baltimore, MD 21230

410-659-9314



Aids and Appliances 

Wooden support 35", 39", 42"

Folding metal support 33" and 36"

Rigid hollow fiberglass 24" to 65"

Telescoping fiberglass 45" to 67"

Repair kit for bottom section of telescoping fiberglass

Folding fiberglass 52" to 66"

Rigid hollow carbon fiber 49" to 65"

Telescoping carbon fiber 39" to 65"

Folding metal 44" to 56"

Variety of replacement tips





Rainshine Company

158 Jackson Street

Madison, WI 53704

608-259-8231



Rigid fiberglass 30" to 64"

Replacement tips





SenseSations

Associated Services for the Blind

919 Walnut Street

Philadelphia, PA 19107

215-617-0600



SenseSations 



Folding aluminum support 33" and 36"

Folding aluminum 42" to 56"

Rigid aluminum 44" to 54"

Variety of replacement tips

Replacement elastic cord

Replacement cane sections

Replacement wrist loop

Scotch-Lite reflective tape

Minor adjustments of equipment





Vis-Aids

102-09 Jamaica Avenue

P.O. Box 26

Richmond Hills, NY 11418

718-847-4734

800-346-9579

FAX:  718-441-2550



Folding aluminum 34" to 60"

Telescoping adjustable aluminum 46" to 54"

Tip assembly for folding cane

Variety of replacement tips





White Cane Industries for the Blind

Route 3, Box 89A

Jenkins, MO 65605

417-574-6368



Aluminum folding 36" to 60"

Aluminum rigid 36" to 60"

Special order variations

Return used canes for repair

Variety of replacement tips

BIBLIOGRAPHY



Benson, Stephen.  So What About Independent Travel.  The Braille Monitor,

     January, 1985, pp 30-40.



Blasch, B. B., Long, R. G., and Griffin, Shirley N.  Results of a National

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     and Blindness, November, 1989, v. 33, n 9, pp 449-453.



Dodds, A. G., and Davis, D. P.  Assessment and Training of Low Vision

     Clients for Mobility.  Journal of Visual Impairment and Blindness,

     November, 1989, v 83, n 9, pp 439-446.



Kruger, Irving J.  Orientation and Mobility in the Vocational Area.  New

     Outlook for the Blind, March, 1960, v 54, n 3, pp 87-90.



National Conference on Mobility and Orientation:  (Introduction), New

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Nichols, Allan.  Why Use the Long White Cane?  The Braille Monitor,

     February, 1992, pp 54-58.



Pogrund, R. L., and Rosen, S. J.  The Preschool Blind Child Can be a Cane

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Rusalem, Herbert.  The Dilemma in Training Mobility Instructors.  New

     Outlook for the Blind, March, 1960, v 54, n 3, pp 82-87.



Sauerberger, Dona.  Cane Technique:  Tricks of the Trade.  Metropolitan

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Sauerberger, Dona.  Readers' Comments on Teaching Cane Techniques. 

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Wainapel, S. F.  Attitudes of Visually Impaired Persons Toward Cane Use. 

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Whitstock, Robert H.  Orientation and Mobility for Blind Children.  New

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Willoughby, Doris, and Duffy, Sharon.  Handbook for Itinerant and Resource

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