Berkeley, blindness, and social inaction

I am posting here a real-live diary, and by this I mean a personal statement that might have meaning only to me.  This is a “get it all out” moment.  If anyone gains from it, I will feel that my experience has had meaning.

I always pride myself on standing for what I believe, no matter how unpopular my opinion is.  Perhaps that is why I am haunted by something that happened to me in graduate school long, long ago.  By “long, long ago” I mean the early 1980’s.

I was in a card store in Berkeley, California, waiting for a clerk to find the exact kind of nib I needed for my special pen.  While I waited, I listened to a conversation between a blind customer and one of the clerks.  The blind person, a man, had asked for the woman to read the Mother’s Day cards to him so he could pick one for his mother.  During the exchange, he chatted about how he had had a glass of wine with lunch and was enjoying the beautiful day.  He had walked past the store, getting a bit lost until someone helped him find the store.  He used a white cane to get around.

The woman read the cards to him and it was pretty mushy with the man, maybe 27-32 years old, mulling over his thoughts on the emotions espoused in the cards.  After picking one of those flowery ones that makes me sick, he asked the clerk to sign the card for him, “To my mother, my friend, my savior, on Mother’s Day.  With love always, your son, Brian (I can’t remember his name for sure).

That was all fine and I mulled over the details and thought maybe I should buy a card for my mother also.  I don’t think I did though because I usually put it off until it was too late and then just called.

After the man left, the clerk declared in a tone filled with bravado and disdain, “I don’t think he had a couple of glasses of wine with lunch, I think he was a couple of sheets to the wind.  Ha, ha, ha.  I didn’t sign that card.  I left it blank”.

I recoiled but did nothing.  I didn’t want to make a scene and had waited a long time, so I paid for the nib and left.  Of course, I never went back to that store again but that is a pathetic protest of a deplorable act.  To this day, I am sickened by my silence.  The least I should have done is to throw my purchase at them.  I could have organized a protest against the store with the Berkeley School for the Blind.  My only saving grace is that I will never ever forget that incident and the shame of my behavior.  I have never again remained silent when my voice is needed.  I have the reputation of being outspoken and sometimes it is a burden.  My actions are restricted to my work and family and friends, however.  I do relatively little in the community although as a single parent and widow, I don’t have much time.  To start a more politically active life as my children slowly leave home, I volunteered for the Obama campaign.  And, I promise to always be the person I think I am capable of being.

As I write this, I am even more determined to do my part.  There are too many problems in the world to sit silently, perhaps complaining but doing nothing.  Yesterday, a parent at my son's soccer practice ranted on about how sure there is global warming but it's just the cycle.  In spite of the fact that soccer practice isn't a political forum, I kind of ask for it with my stem cell, Obama, and god save us from GW Bush bumper stickers.  I spoke up although I plan to do more research so I can answer the questions better.  Perhaps my recent determination is a synergism between the Obama message and my experience.  

And, If anyone reads this, please come away from this moment promising to do better.