Novel

I have a lot of drinking glasses - glass, thermal, and plastic - in a variety of sizes and shapes.

Mostly, Lex and I both reach for the non-glassware, of which we have a ton, for our various beverage container needs. So, even though we have a handful of actual glass glassware - most of which came from the Divine Ms. Dayna - they rarely get used unless there is a special occasion like a supper party.

However...

In that same cupboard with the plethora of glass and non-glassware, mixed in with the plastic tumblers of various sizes and shapes, the collection of coffee mugs, and any number of travelers are two very special glasses...

One is a pint glass from the first and only time I went to Nederland for the annual Frozen Dead Guy Days a few years ago. I bought the glass because I was with friends I loved and we had an extraordinary lunch and I wanted to bring something home with me that would remind me of the experience. 

The other is a glass from the first and only White Castle I've ever been to...the White Castle Acr0 and I ate at - because neither of us ever had - when we were in Wisconsin on the American Gods and Roadside Attractions roadtrip a couple of years ago. The White Castle excursion that, ultimately, made us miss 2/3 of the House on the Rock tour we'd set out to see. That glass was one of the only souvenirs I brought back just for me.

Both mean something significant to me.

And yet...

For some reason, whenever Lex has guests - and maybe it's only Lex's guests because he's more apt to point to the cupboard and say "help yourself" whereas I'm much more host oriented and serve my guests drinks - invariably one or both of those glasses get pulled out from the recesses of the cupboard, plastic tumblers and regular, every day glasses shoved haphazardly aside, and placed into precarious play.

I don't get it.

They aren't the biggest or smallest glasses. The aren't the prettiest and they certainly aren't the most durable. The rest of the glasses - glass and non-glass - aren't uniform so that eliminates the concern that perhaps the glass might be mistaken for someone else's. 

The only thing they are is unique and obviously commemoration glasses - one of a kind in my cupboard - that people, Lex's people I guess, gravitate toward.

And it irritates me.

Because I don't even use those glasses. Unless there is beer and only good beer and that is hardly ever.

So I ask...

When you go to someone else's house - especially a house of someone you've never met - and are told to "help yourself" to a glass and beverage...do you go for whatever is closest to your size need or do you automatically reach for the novelty cup?

Cuz if you reach for the novelty cup? You're being an asshole. Most likely. Or maybe that's just me.

PS The Frozen Dead Guy Days glass is in play tonight by someone who helped herself to it without invitation. I've met her once - 3 days ago - and she navigates my kitchen as though it is hers. She's already spilled Pepsi on my living room carpet and, even though she tried to clean it up, the carpet I've owned for a month will require a steam clean. So I'm grumped...a lot...by the nerve of some people's children. 

Blind

In a moment, I'm going to ask you to do something. And I would appreciate it if you'd just humor me. It's important to the story. It'll give you perspective - and don't we all need a new perspective every once in awhile?

OK!

1) Please take your left hand and cover your left eye so that you are unable to see out of that eye. Do not cover both eyes as you will not be able to continue reading the next instruction.

2) With your right hand, make a sort of telescope - sort of open-fist like - as if you were making the American Sign Language sign for the letter "o". Like this:

Clip art courtesy of All-Free Download

3) Hold your "telescope" up to your right eye and look through it.

What do you see?

Not much, right?

If you'd like even more perspective, at your own risk, get up and walk around and maybe take some stairs¹. While you are doing this, consider how your balance feels, how little depth perception you have, how vulnerable you might feel if you were not in the comfort of your own home.

Now!

Imagine going to the grocery store, the mall, the airport, a buffet, on a walk with the ability only to see what appears through that narrow lens. Think about what you encounter in those places. There are aisle displays, small children, low hanging branches, carts, racks, curbs, garbage cans, signs on poles, people in a hurry, people not in a hurry, people coming from the opposite direction, up from behind, in front, cutting across your path.

What you are actually seeing - or rather, how much you are seeing - and experiencing is what my mom lives with all the time.

I'm not kidding.

Betsy² has been blind, as far as she knows, her entire life. No one realized it, however, until she was 12 and was learning to play basketball during PE class at her school. I believe it was her teacher who recommended her parents take her to an eye doctor.

It turns out, Betsy has a genetic condition called "Optic Nerve Head Drusen". Only 1% of the population is believed to be afflicted with this particular condition and it rarely causes blindness. All her siblings have the condition. 3 out of the 4 of them are blind. Her children - meaning my own siblings and me - all have drusen. Only 1 of us has been visually impacted. I am lucky. I am not the one.

Photo courtesy of Columbia University - the yellow area is the optic nerve head and should be smooth and circular

Being blind has never stopped her from doing anything she's wanted to do...except maybe playing basketball. She is an accomplished musician, a business professional, a seasoned traveler. She drove up until 1991 when her eye doctor finally told her he was not going to tell her to stop driving but wanted to know what streets she took so he could stay off them. If the thought of that doesn't terrify you, nothing will.

She has tromped all over the world. From the beaches of Zihuatenejo, to the mountains and jungles of Nepal, over the hobbit hills of New Zealand, and through the streets of countless European cities, Betsy has trekked, shopped, safari'd, practiced yoga, took photographs (blurry, crooked ones *laughing*), and has just generally enjoyed her life and her opportunities.

She does not use a cane.

If you were to see her, you'd have no idea she is most likely not seeing you. Only rarely, if she's particularly tired...or uhm...you know, has been drinking with her daughter (ahem), her blind eye will appear a little askew. Otherwise, there is no visual cue to others that she cannot see.

She and I have talked about this. Particularly as she gets older and slower, more cautious, it's become even more difficult for her to navigate just her familiar surroundings and it seems like people have become all that much more aggressive and self-absorbed when they are out in public...impatient with someone they perceive to be slow, in their way. You know, because it's all about them and it's all a conspiracy.

I've seen her practically bowled over by travelers in a hurry to get through security so that they can wait an hour and a half for a plane. I've seen people fire off dirty looks, heard them harumph at her, or say, "watch where you're going".

Believe me, she's trying. Much harder than you are. She's trying to keep your children safe - children you let dart in and out of the paths of everyone because you're too busy talking on your cell phone to bother. She's trying to keep herself safe, trying not to break any bones - which she's done - because she didn't see that curb coming or that fire hydrant or that suitcase you've left sitting unattended. She's trying to keep her hand on my elbow to guide her while you push and bump into her, jostle her around, get past her...and me.

So, we've talked about it. The cane. Not because she needs it. Because other people do. Because unless there is some cue indicating something is different about the situation, people are mean, impatient, rude, thoughtless prats. And, in turn, I get mean and rude. I cannot tell you how many times I've felt angry vile words rising in my throat when someone comes barreling down on us. I want to stop them, shake them, and yell in their faces, "SHE CAN'T SEE YOU, ASSHOLE!!!"

It's frustrating. It's disheartening. It's terrifying to think she might get hurt because of someone else's thoughtlessness. I love my mom. I love spending time with my mom. I want everyone I know to spend time with my mom. Because she ROCKS!

And I want to protect her.

I can't get anyone else to change their behavior or to heighten their awareness about the special needs of others. So maybe she'll get the cane and change her own behavior slightly to help others help her.

Until then, if you see these ladies?





You might want to try offering your assistance rather than running us down.



1: Please do not fall and break your neck. Jane In Her Infinite Wisdom is not responsible for injury or death related to this experiment.

2: Yes, I do call my mom by her given name most of the time. This is not an implication that I do not love my mother. I do. Very much. The reason I started to call her "Betsy" 30 years ago is because when we're out in public and she's trying her best just to see what's around her, she doesn't pay attention to the call for "Mom" as that could be coming from any number of sources. If she hears "Betsy" she knows to stop, pay attention, look for and locate the source of the call. I do, on occasion, in this blog, refer to her as Blind Betsy. This is simply a differentiation between the Mom Betsy and my friend, Bomb Betsy, and there is no disrespect intended. I also call my dad "Dave" but he hates it...which is probably why I do it.


A year ago: If a phone rings and nobody's home to answer it, does it still ring?

Copyrighted. All Rights Reserved.

The interwebz are all abuzz this afternoon and evening over the copyright infringement of one Monica Gaudio.

Here's the story:

Monica published a blog entry entitled A Tale of Two Tarts on a blog. Subsequently, an obscure magazine, Cooks Source¹ - a print magazine with little web presence - found the article and printed it without permission or without notifying the author they were doing so.

Monica was alerted to the infringement when a friend saw the article and inquired about how she'd gotten published.

So Monica contacted the magazine and, after a couple of e-mail exchanges, received this response from the editor, Judith Griggs:

"But honestly Monica, the web is considered "public domain" and you should be happy we just didn't "lift" your whole article and put someone else's name on it! It happens a lot, clearly more than you are aware of, especially on college campuses, and the workplace. If you took offence and are unhappy, I am sorry, but you as a professional should know that the article we used written by you was in very bad need of editing, and is much better now than was originally. Now it will work well for your portfolio. For that reason, I have a bit of a difficult time with your requests for monetary gain, albeit for such a fine (and very wealthy!) institution. We put some time into rewrites, you should compensate me! I never charge young writers for advice or rewriting poorly written pieces, and have many who write for me... ALWAYS for free!"

I'm sorry but...BITCH! Really? Yeah, really.

So this has created somewhat of a firestorm for little Judith. As I mention in my footnote below, her Facebook page, overrun with nasty comments from people who'd picked up the story, is now unavailable. I suspect her website has crashed from others attempting to get on it and comment to her directly.

And I, for one among many, am incensed at the pure audacity of this woman and this publication.

However...

There's a little nagging voice inside my head tonight about something very similar.

You know how lots of people go to websites and download music without paying for it? Not because the artist has given his or her permission but because someone who has a copy of it just puts it up there for anyone to take without paying?

That's copyright infringement.

Do you know how expensive it can be to write, produce, and promote music?

It's a hellofalot more expensive than spending a day writing a blog post.

Snag any pictures off google images that were copyright protected recently without permission or without assigning credit to the photographer?

That's copyright infringement.

We, most of us, do it without giving it a second cursory thought.

Now, I'm particularly sensitive to the music infringement as my brother is a recorded musician and I always think of him when I think of obtaining music illegally. I don't, as a rule, download music that's not been expressly released for free by the artist. I will go to iTunes and pay my 99¢ for whatever song I'm requiring.

I do this gladly. Because A) I love the fact that I do not have to get out of my pajamas and haul my ass down to the rekkid store to purchase an entire album of crap to mine one perfect song and B) because it's the right thing to do.

But! How many people throwing stones at Judith have done the very same thing via a different artistic medium?

Perhaps the argument can be made that Judith is selling the content for her own monetary gain. True. She is and she should also know better as an editor/publisher of a nationally distributed publication. But! Even though there may not be monetary gain for someone who is downloading other types of art for free illegally, they are still taking, for free, someone's hard work for their own personal gain (enjoyment) while the artist - who has put blood, sweat, tears, and dollars into producing something of value - is left holding the bag of debt it took to put it out there for our consumption.

Just sayin'.

When I wished to re-print Paulie Lipman's poem on my blog, I asked his express permission to do so. I have his e-mailed consent. Would you like to see it? When I wished to use Math-Matty's "Time, You Can't Stop It" photo on this blog, I e-mailed, asked, and received his permission. Would you like to see it? I don't post a lot of photographs on this blog because A) I'm a lousy photographer and B) because I hesitate to post someone else's work without their permission. The photographs I do post, have been credited to the websites at which I found them and usually have been re-published several times before I've snagged them myself. I don't know how else to do it if I don't know how to contact the artist directly.

So, by all means, please throw stones at Judith and the likes of her. I'm glad to see such a huge response to her abuse of the law. If you see anything of mine with or without credit given, please let me know!

But remember, the next time you want a song and don't feel like paying 99¢ for it? You suck. Like Judith sucks. The big fat weenie of the month.




1: I would link to the magazine website which is, according to this article in the Washington Post, "mainly a placeholder, directing people to its Facebook page" but the Facebook page has now been suspended and the website has either crashed or has been taken down.