Day One
I’m flying with the other airline today, so I don’t have high hopes. I’m seated near the back of the cattle car—I mean, cabin—next to two folks who don’t look happy to see me. As I put my tray table down, I realize I’ve managed to rip my pants. Not a tiny tear, either — think San Andreas Fault. This flight just keeps getting better. My seatmates are Spanish speakers and, while I’m not fluent, I can keep up with the conversation. It seems one of them is the other’s mother, and Mom is not happy with her son’s life choices, especially in the dating arena. He’s also eating, one at a time, every so crunchily, a family-sized bag of Veggie Straws, which I used to like. I used to like chili-cheese Fritos too until my best friend, Brian, and I drove his grandmother from Coahoma, Texas to Duncan, Oklahoma. Grandma Calaway had a brand new, family-sized bag of chili-cheese Fritos and ate it one at a time all the way to Duncan while leaning over the seat, breathing her chili-cheese breath.
I’m on my way to Black Mountain, North Carolina, to see Christine. If you’ve been paying attention to the news lately, Black Mountain has been getting a lot of press for all the wrong reasons. Hurricane Helene caused record flooding, and Black Mountain saw its share. The whole town is still on a boil-water notice, including my hotel, which is passing out bottled water for drinking and brushing teeth. I can’t see much, as it’s dark when I get here. I’ll be interested to see what the area looks like in the morning.
Day Two
The town of Black Mountain honestly looks great—not at all what I was expecting. There’s still plenty of evidence of the flood, like flood-damaged appliances and other household goods stacked up on the roadside, ready for someone to pick up and haul off. It looks like the majority of people’s worldly belongings piled up on the shoulder of the road. And there are hundreds of trees down everywhere you look, some cut up and ready for hauling off, others cut up just enough to be out of the way. The creek that runs beside my hotel is spanned by an out-of-action bridge, obviously damaged by floodwaters. Road closures are everywhere. Men and women, wearing hard hats and safety vests, skilled in the trades, are doing the most important work, as usual. There are also signs all over town thanking first responders, linemen, National Guardsmen, and citizens for their help during their toughest time.
Christine lives, quite literally, on the side of a mountain. It’s a lovely trip to her home, where we sit with her cat and make a plan for the day. Christine is a cancer survivor who has had vision in only one eye since birth, then lost her remaining vision about four years ago. She’s had a couple of rotator cuff surgeries as well. The hits just keep on coming. She’s had some Orientation & Mobility (O&M ) training from a local instructor but found out about Leader Dog’s O&M program from a local resident with a Leader Dog.
We decided to walk to her church, which, walking down the mountain, seemed like a good idea. We talked about simple skills like walking on the left side of the road and indenting before crossing the street. Indenting is just what it sounds like, even though nobody indents anymore, at least in literature. When traveling along a street with no sidewalks and coming to the corner, the best way to get across is to follow the curb around the curve until it straightens out, square off, then cross. This method ensures you’re facing the opposite curb, and it also narrows the crossing, allowing you to spend as little time as possible in the street. We worked on a lot of those situations on the way to church and back. Oh, did I mention that the way back was uphill? All the way.
Day Three
Day ThreeWe head into downtown Black Mountain this morning. Christine’s local O&M instructor, Wendy, made a tactile map of downtown, which I use to familiarize myself with the area. It’s a great map, and I’m happy to have it. Thanks, Wendy of Mountain Mobility!
Downtown is a bustling little place with tons of curios and antique shops, and more restaurants than a town this size should have. And it’s bustling with people. I saw an advertisement for North Carolina tourism, saying, among other towns, “Black Mountain needs your tourism.” Advertising worked, and people are here. There are also lots of work trucks, dump trucks, and heavy equipment moving through. The fact that they’re here is great because it’s a sign of recovery, but it’s also a reminder of the devastation that occurred. Everyone you talk to has a story.
I was in one of the shops after we were done, just looking around, and was wearing a ball cap from Wright Construction in Nacogdoches (Thanks, Sam!). The salesman saw the logo on the cap and assumed I was there with a crew. I explained to him what I was actually doing and he thought it was fascinating, as most people do. Anyway, he talked about how weird it was to not be able to drink the water, but it was okay to shower with it. I’m doing the same thing in my hotel room, and it is indeed weird.
Day Four
Day FourWe park in the parking lot next to the visitor center, where we were told yesterday that there were no local trails open due to the flooding. The gentleman who told us has a long white beard and sits in as Santa Claus at the Chimney Rock State Park Christmas event. It, unfortunately, has been canceled as well. He does have a lovely white beard, and I’m sure he does a great job, but has that yellowing on his mustache that gives him away as a smoker. I’m sure the kids won’t miss that part. The Santa Claus of my youth didn’t smell like cigarettes. “He sits on a throne of lies!” (That’s a quote from Elf with Will Ferrell, if you’re not too familiar with Christmas movies).
I ask Christine to plan a route to the local coffee shop, The Dripolator, and promise to buy her a cup of coffee if she gets me there. It’s our coldest day so far—not too bad, but a warm drink will be nice by the time we get there. Route planning, being familiar with your environment, and being able to update your mental map are keys to good orientation. Christine tends to overthink, which causes her to doubt herself. She also tends to be hard on herself, which I completely understand, but that can really bog you down. I often feel that what I do mostly, besides teaching basic skills, is encourage folks to trust themselves and their skills. Her skills are good, and she has a really good understanding of her environment. She just needs to trust herself — and her cane — a little more.
She finds the coffee shop with no problems, letting me know she’s ready for a higher level of difficulty. We take a different route on the way back to the vehicle, which tests Christine’s orientation, but she does great. The heated seats in the rental feel nice. I get spoiled on these rentals because my personal vehicle is, well, more basic. My seats only get heated if they’re sitting in the sun.
Day Five
Rain. It rained all day. As you might expect, people in this part of the world are a little gun-shy of rain. We postponed training almost all day, then finally decided on doing a night lesson, which we planned on doing anyway. If you’ve read this before, you know all about night lessons. There are no new techniques — only new confidence. The lesson at night, in my opinion, is not for learning new routes or techniques, but for building confidence. Christine will be functioning as someone who has absolutely no vision, especially when headlights from oncoming cars meet her eyes. She walked to a familiar location but had to totally trust what the cane was telling her, not her remaining vision. She crossed streets using only her hearing. Her confidence grew with each crossing, and it was fun to watch.
Before the lesson, I had a really good steak at a place called the Trail Head. They brought me a real steak knife, but only a plastic fork. Not ideal for cutting up steak. Now, the steak was cooked to perfection, and I could almost cut it with the plastic fork alone, but not efficiently. The waitress said they weren’t allowed to give real silverware, but I pointed out the real steak knife. She winked at me and brought me a real fork.
Day Six
I had three new routes planned for Christine to finish our training day. She had them all done in about an hour and a half. Her confidence has increased to the point where her pace has picked up. An increased pace is one of the biggest indicators of increased confidence. Just like driving a motor vehicle — usually, the more comfortable you feel with your vehicle and the road, the faster you tend to drive. She’s flying, at least compared to Monday.
We have a lunch “date” with Christine’s friend and Leader Dog Graduate Karen, and her husband, Danny. The bakery where we’re meeting will be a new route for Christine, and it’s a challenging one. One that requires her to use a lot of her newfound skills — a mobility instructor’s dream.
Upon arriving at Seven Sister’s Bakery, we discover that our plans have changed, and we’re going to meet Karen and Danny at their home. Boom! Another new route! While Christine and Karen work out the logistics, I notice a claw machine on the front porch of the bakery. You know the claw, right? From the Toy Story franchise? And from every arcade you ever walked into in the 70s-90s? Anyway, this one is loaded with day-old cinnamon rolls, cookies, breads, and other pastries. There’s a sign telling users that, although it costs a dollar to play, if you don’t have a dollar, you can go inside and get a dollar. And the machine is designed so that you get to play until you win—on the same dollar you may or may not have provided. It’s a great deal to get rid of your day-old material and let people have fun doing it.
We ended up driving to Karen and Danny’s, but Christine still has to negotiate stairs and uneven terrain on the driveway and the front yard. We meet Karen on the porch next to a fire. Lovely. She’s recovering from surgery and is very welcoming to our company. She’s had her Leader Dog for around two years and talked very fondly of her Guide Dog Mobility Instructor (GDMI), who delivered her dog to her in Black Mountain and provided all the training at home.
It’s something we do on a case-by-case basis. I didn’t ask what or why but focused on her telling her story of vision loss and recovery, due in part to Leader Dog. Her GDMI told her (she says, “about a thousand times”), “Head up, shoulders back, smile on your face, follow your dog.” The GDMI knows who I’m speaking about. I’m not gonna name names. I did call later to remind them of what a difference was made in Karen’s life with their work. Everyone deserves to hear that.
I’m headed to Charlotte this evening, so I don’t have to drive in the dark. I’m flying back with the other airline, so your prayers are coveted. “When you hit your knees tonight, please ask God to love my seatmate. And to keep them away from the Veggie Straws. Or Chili-Cheese Fritos.” (This is another movie quote, slightly modified, from Brian’s Song. If you know, you know.)
