By LORI VAN INGEN,
Myrtle Geist, who celebrated her 103rd birthday Monday, has the uncanny ability to bounce back from illness.
Geist twice had pneumonia that landed her in the hospital, and she had to have a pacemaker installed at age 93. She also has macular degeneration.
"Every day is a gift," her daughter, Phyllis Strittmatter, said.
Born Aug. 9, 1907, in Millersville, Geist was the first of two children of Charles Eagle and Mary Kauffman Siegler. Her younger brother is the late Harold C. Siegler.
Geist attended a one-room school in Millersville through grade eight.
She graduated in 1925 from Penn Manor High School. In her senior year, she was a member of the championship girls basketball team.
After graduation, she worked as a secretary for the Robert B. Myers insurance agency in Lancaster.
In 1948, Geist became deputy recorder of deeds in Lancaster, a position she held until she retired in 1973.
Coming from a musical family, Geist began taking piano and organ lessons as a young girl with the late Frank McConnell. She put those lessons to work during high school when she became the organist at St. Paul's Lutheran Church in Millersville.
She later was the organist at St. Matthew's and Faith Reformed and substituted at Emmanuel Lutheran.
She met her husband, Allen H. Geist, through a mutual friend who knew of their shared musical interest. Geist had a group, Al Geist and the Dixieland Band, that played on WGAL.
The Geists married on June 25, 1938. They had two children, Strittmatter, and a son, Andrew L., both of Lancaster. They had no grandchildren. Her husband died in 1977.
After retirement, Geist attended the Happy Hours senior citizen group in Lancaster and joined the Melodious, a group that entertained at nursing homes. She also played the organ for the Quack Quacks.
She had to give up playing the organ just six months ago, when arthritis began affecting one of her fingers.
With AARP, Geist had the opportunity to travel to Hawaii.
The Homestead Village resident now enjoys playing bingo, with some help because of her macular degeneration.
Friday, August 20, 2010
Monday, August 9, 2010
Prep Track and Field Ageless wonder
At 83, Batavia volunteer Harold Anderson continues to have no trouble connecting with young athletes
Comments
The sun has climbed above the horizon this June morning, but it's full impact won't be felt for a couple hours.
That's good news for the six teenage girls who begin arriving, just like clockwork, at the Batavia High School track. Some drive themselves. Some are dropped off by parents. Another comes by bike.
One by one, they start to stretch.
Soon, it will be 7 a.m.
An elderly gentleman in khaki pants and golf polo, snow white hair showing from underneath his red baseball cap, joins them. There's good-natured banter before he goes to work, lining up five pairs of hurdles, side by side on two of the running lanes.
Class is in session for 83-year-old Harold Anderson who suffers from macular degeneration. It starts with the one-step drill.
This is a rite of summer for the assistant coach who works each spring with hurdlers and pole vaulters for the girls and boys track teams of coaches Chad Hillman and Dennis Piron.
Anderson, who retired from teaching at Kaneland in 1987 and quit coaching there in 1991, gives the term "veteran" new meaning. Prompted by former Batavia coach Mike DiDomenico, who still assists Piron, Anderson has volunteered here since 1991.
It's no coincidence that both programs have developed into consistent challengers for conference titles.
The magic is hard work
Three times a week, bright and early, Anderson puts his hurdlers through specialized drills at voluntary workouts that last an hour or so and run through July. You snooze, you lose.
"This is the best hurdle drill in America," Anderson says as he watches each girl line up for a turn, doing what is close to a walk-through over the five, tightly-placed hurdles.
They don't run all out. This is about feel. Emphasis is on form, balance and economy of motion with just one step between each obstacle before going over the next one, always with the same lead leg.
"When that trail leg comes down, they're jumping (over the next hurdle)," said Anderson. "That's why I call it the one-step drill.
"It looks easy but it's not," he continues as one of the upperclassmen navigates it smoothly.
Moments later, a younger girl loses her balance and has to stop before wiping out on the third hurdle.
"It's hard," Anderson says gently, knowing it's easy to get discouraged.
Several attempts later, the same girls gets through it, a tad shaky but with no bobbles.
"If you lose a little momentum, by the time you get to that fourth or fifth hurdle, you can't do it," he says. "That trail leg has got to come through and reach out because you don't get another step. ... instead of jumping the hurdle, you run the hurdle."
In an aside to an observer, he notes, "I have had kids do 10 (hurdles) in a row. It's a fantastic drill. You can take a sprinter and teach 'em how to hurdle."
Other drills emphasize starts, curves and stride.
His No. 1 sermon, though, stresses the importance of clearing each hurdle with the same lead leg, no matter if it's the 100-meter or 300-meter race.
Don't their steps get choppy and cost them time, trying to maintain that same lead leg?
"Not if your stride is right," said Anderson. "If you hit it right on the button, you'll be alright."
Then, he repeats an oft-used phrase with a chuckle.
"I tell them, 'You can cuss, but you can't say alternate,'" he says.
Connecting with kids
Natalie Tarter remembers meeting Anderson for the first time at one of these sessions before she started high school.
Tarter played soccer and basketball and from junior high, knew she was a pretty good sprinter. Her older brother would challenge boys to race her when they were killing time while having to attend their younger brother's little league games and she always won.
"(Anderson) said, 'We're gonna have you hurdle,'" Tarter remembers. "And the first time I tried it, I fell down and fell down hard. I mean, I was all scraped up on my leg and hip, a bunch of strawberries. It looked pretty bad.
"I said, 'I'm never hurdling again.' But he was the sweetest man. He said, 'You can take the next day off and regroup. It happens to everyone.'"
It does. And Anderson, it may seem, has seen it all.
He has macular degeneration, which impacts the center of a person's field of vision. He still saw the potential in Tarter. It was realized her junior year when she won the state title in the 300 hurdles and repeated as runnerup in the 100 hurdles. Injury kept her from trying for a double as a senior but she's now a sophomore on a track scholarship at the University of Wisconsin.
Brittney Bernardoni, another of Anderson's charges, will join Tarter at Wisconsin this fall but she won't be a member of the track team.
Bernardoni, who had an injury-plagued career at Miami of Ohio after winning the state pole vault title in high school, will go to Wisconsin's medical school. It's one of eight she could have attended, Anderson says with pride. She also ran hurdles remembers her first meeting with Anderson.
"He was older than I expected," she said. "But he's very kind-hearted, very supportive and he knows a ton. He's very self-effacing ... has accomplished so much but he's never one to toot his own horn."
Both standouts grew to enjoy the summer workouts.
"They were tough in the beginning, and no teenager likes to get up at 6," Tarter said. "But (eventually) I couldn't get enough of it. It was such a challenge to learn it. You felt like you were learning something new every day. Plus, then you had the rest of the day."
Little wonder, both, like many who have trained under Anderson, stay in touch after graduation.
His most recent state champ (300 hurdles), Kathryn Warner, will, too.
She will attend East Carolina University this fall on a track scholarship.
Call him visionary
"I didn't start hurdles until my sophomore year," said Warner, also an excellent vaulter. "(Anderson) kept telling me the hurdles would help me in the pole vault. He kept telling me how good I could be in the hurdles so I stuck it out.
"He's a legend. He can barely see, but he can see how many steps you're taking between hurdles."
And he sees more than his athletes might think.
As Warner's father, Guy, notes: "Even though he claims he can't see, from 100 yards, he can spot a trail leg that is a couple inches low."
Anderson prides himself on teaching technique.
"The hurdles and the pole vault are the two easiest events to get points in because three-quarters of the schools don't have pole vault coaches and only 20 percent have anybody that really know the hurdles," said Anderson, who began coaching and teaching in Catlin after graduating from Illinois Wesleyan in 1950. He also led the track program at Mooseheart early in his career.
In his day, the vaulter's poles were made of bamboo.
"I like technique," he said. "I even like coaching discus next to pole vault and hurdles.
"I'm not a yeller. But in 60 years, you ought to learn something."
He has, and often achieves his yearly goal.
"I like to get two athletes in the finals of the conference in each event," he said. "I think we've had about 90 percent success here. Then, you know you're doing something right."
That's a given.
"Perhaps what makes coach so special is the respect and admiration he gets from the athletes ... which is equalled by the respect and admiration he has for them," said Guy Warner.
"When you see athletes finish a race then come talk to him with a big smile on their face looking for approval, you know something special is going on ... everything is a learning experience."
And could be termed the never-ending story.
"This is therapy to me," said Anderson.
Therapy that works both ways.
Comments
The sun has climbed above the horizon this June morning, but it's full impact won't be felt for a couple hours.
That's good news for the six teenage girls who begin arriving, just like clockwork, at the Batavia High School track. Some drive themselves. Some are dropped off by parents. Another comes by bike.
One by one, they start to stretch.
Soon, it will be 7 a.m.
An elderly gentleman in khaki pants and golf polo, snow white hair showing from underneath his red baseball cap, joins them. There's good-natured banter before he goes to work, lining up five pairs of hurdles, side by side on two of the running lanes.
Class is in session for 83-year-old Harold Anderson who suffers from macular degeneration. It starts with the one-step drill.
This is a rite of summer for the assistant coach who works each spring with hurdlers and pole vaulters for the girls and boys track teams of coaches Chad Hillman and Dennis Piron.
Anderson, who retired from teaching at Kaneland in 1987 and quit coaching there in 1991, gives the term "veteran" new meaning. Prompted by former Batavia coach Mike DiDomenico, who still assists Piron, Anderson has volunteered here since 1991.
It's no coincidence that both programs have developed into consistent challengers for conference titles.
The magic is hard work
Three times a week, bright and early, Anderson puts his hurdlers through specialized drills at voluntary workouts that last an hour or so and run through July. You snooze, you lose.
"This is the best hurdle drill in America," Anderson says as he watches each girl line up for a turn, doing what is close to a walk-through over the five, tightly-placed hurdles.
They don't run all out. This is about feel. Emphasis is on form, balance and economy of motion with just one step between each obstacle before going over the next one, always with the same lead leg.
"When that trail leg comes down, they're jumping (over the next hurdle)," said Anderson. "That's why I call it the one-step drill.
"It looks easy but it's not," he continues as one of the upperclassmen navigates it smoothly.
Moments later, a younger girl loses her balance and has to stop before wiping out on the third hurdle.
"It's hard," Anderson says gently, knowing it's easy to get discouraged.
Several attempts later, the same girls gets through it, a tad shaky but with no bobbles.
"If you lose a little momentum, by the time you get to that fourth or fifth hurdle, you can't do it," he says. "That trail leg has got to come through and reach out because you don't get another step. ... instead of jumping the hurdle, you run the hurdle."
In an aside to an observer, he notes, "I have had kids do 10 (hurdles) in a row. It's a fantastic drill. You can take a sprinter and teach 'em how to hurdle."
Other drills emphasize starts, curves and stride.
His No. 1 sermon, though, stresses the importance of clearing each hurdle with the same lead leg, no matter if it's the 100-meter or 300-meter race.
Don't their steps get choppy and cost them time, trying to maintain that same lead leg?
"Not if your stride is right," said Anderson. "If you hit it right on the button, you'll be alright."
Then, he repeats an oft-used phrase with a chuckle.
"I tell them, 'You can cuss, but you can't say alternate,'" he says.
Connecting with kids
Natalie Tarter remembers meeting Anderson for the first time at one of these sessions before she started high school.
Tarter played soccer and basketball and from junior high, knew she was a pretty good sprinter. Her older brother would challenge boys to race her when they were killing time while having to attend their younger brother's little league games and she always won.
"(Anderson) said, 'We're gonna have you hurdle,'" Tarter remembers. "And the first time I tried it, I fell down and fell down hard. I mean, I was all scraped up on my leg and hip, a bunch of strawberries. It looked pretty bad.
"I said, 'I'm never hurdling again.' But he was the sweetest man. He said, 'You can take the next day off and regroup. It happens to everyone.'"
It does. And Anderson, it may seem, has seen it all.
He has macular degeneration, which impacts the center of a person's field of vision. He still saw the potential in Tarter. It was realized her junior year when she won the state title in the 300 hurdles and repeated as runnerup in the 100 hurdles. Injury kept her from trying for a double as a senior but she's now a sophomore on a track scholarship at the University of Wisconsin.
Brittney Bernardoni, another of Anderson's charges, will join Tarter at Wisconsin this fall but she won't be a member of the track team.
Bernardoni, who had an injury-plagued career at Miami of Ohio after winning the state pole vault title in high school, will go to Wisconsin's medical school. It's one of eight she could have attended, Anderson says with pride. She also ran hurdles remembers her first meeting with Anderson.
"He was older than I expected," she said. "But he's very kind-hearted, very supportive and he knows a ton. He's very self-effacing ... has accomplished so much but he's never one to toot his own horn."
Both standouts grew to enjoy the summer workouts.
"They were tough in the beginning, and no teenager likes to get up at 6," Tarter said. "But (eventually) I couldn't get enough of it. It was such a challenge to learn it. You felt like you were learning something new every day. Plus, then you had the rest of the day."
Little wonder, both, like many who have trained under Anderson, stay in touch after graduation.
His most recent state champ (300 hurdles), Kathryn Warner, will, too.
She will attend East Carolina University this fall on a track scholarship.
Call him visionary
"I didn't start hurdles until my sophomore year," said Warner, also an excellent vaulter. "(Anderson) kept telling me the hurdles would help me in the pole vault. He kept telling me how good I could be in the hurdles so I stuck it out.
"He's a legend. He can barely see, but he can see how many steps you're taking between hurdles."
And he sees more than his athletes might think.
As Warner's father, Guy, notes: "Even though he claims he can't see, from 100 yards, he can spot a trail leg that is a couple inches low."
Anderson prides himself on teaching technique.
"The hurdles and the pole vault are the two easiest events to get points in because three-quarters of the schools don't have pole vault coaches and only 20 percent have anybody that really know the hurdles," said Anderson, who began coaching and teaching in Catlin after graduating from Illinois Wesleyan in 1950. He also led the track program at Mooseheart early in his career.
In his day, the vaulter's poles were made of bamboo.
"I like technique," he said. "I even like coaching discus next to pole vault and hurdles.
"I'm not a yeller. But in 60 years, you ought to learn something."
He has, and often achieves his yearly goal.
"I like to get two athletes in the finals of the conference in each event," he said. "I think we've had about 90 percent success here. Then, you know you're doing something right."
That's a given.
"Perhaps what makes coach so special is the respect and admiration he gets from the athletes ... which is equalled by the respect and admiration he has for them," said Guy Warner.
"When you see athletes finish a race then come talk to him with a big smile on their face looking for approval, you know something special is going on ... everything is a learning experience."
And could be termed the never-ending story.
"This is therapy to me," said Anderson.
Therapy that works both ways.
Monday, August 2, 2010
Meeting Challenges: Ruth's Story
For years, Ruth MacCalman sewed them all and decorated her works with intricate embroidery.
About six years ago, she had to stop.
Glaucoma and macular degeneration were eroding her vision.
The pressure of fluids building in the front of the eye from glaucoma blurs vision, narrows the field of sight and can cause total blindness. Macular degeneration affects blood vessels in the macula, part of the retina, and often is associated with aging.
“People will put their arms around me, and I can’t see their faces at all,” MacCalman, 89, said.
A former accountant at the state prison in Deer Lodge, she quit working several decades ago after suffering a severe back injury in icy conditions.
As her eyes weakened, she gave up favorite activities such as golf and square dancing. No longer able to read, she has a woman come to her home each week to help with the mail and has marked the stove and microwave so that she can use the controls.
MacCalman stopped driving because glaucoma turned the white line down the road into a series of roiling waves.
She misses driving and is saddened at the prospect of giving up playing bridge with friends.
“I have to say, ‘Is that a diamond or a heart?’ ” she said.
She still has some of her sight, although her 98-year-old sister is fully blind.
MacCalman uses a short white cane because her legs go out and her hip can pop out of socket.
At the Montana Association for the Blind’s Summer Orientation Program, her orientation and mobility instructor, Tracey Orcutt, of Butte, adapted lessons in getting around to MacCalman’s physical needs.
In Aids to Daily Living classes, she learned different ways to tackle grooming, housekeeping and other everyday chores complicated by her vision loss.
A longtime baker, who also loved other types of cooking, MacCalman took both cooking and sewing lessons during the SOP.
Instructor Cherrie Albrecht, of Helena, showed MacCalman and other students how to use special self-threading needles for hand and machine sewing and to create special guides to move material in a straight line through the presser foot when sewing seams by machine.
“We just made so many things,” MacCalman said, ticking off sewing projects that included five pillows, six pot holders and a bag for carrying groceries.
She has two sons, a daughter, four grandchildren and six great-grandchildren. And her sewing projects will become gifts for family and friends.
At the SOP, she said, “The people have been just wonderful. It has been kind of like home.
“They don’t look at you as if you can’t do this, you can’t do that.”
For MacCalman, the adaptive skills learned are a key part in her goal to remain in the Deer Lodge home that the first of her two late husbands built in the 1940s.
“My main desire is I don’t have to leave it,” she said.
About six years ago, she had to stop.
Glaucoma and macular degeneration were eroding her vision.
The pressure of fluids building in the front of the eye from glaucoma blurs vision, narrows the field of sight and can cause total blindness. Macular degeneration affects blood vessels in the macula, part of the retina, and often is associated with aging.
“People will put their arms around me, and I can’t see their faces at all,” MacCalman, 89, said.
A former accountant at the state prison in Deer Lodge, she quit working several decades ago after suffering a severe back injury in icy conditions.
As her eyes weakened, she gave up favorite activities such as golf and square dancing. No longer able to read, she has a woman come to her home each week to help with the mail and has marked the stove and microwave so that she can use the controls.
MacCalman stopped driving because glaucoma turned the white line down the road into a series of roiling waves.
She misses driving and is saddened at the prospect of giving up playing bridge with friends.
“I have to say, ‘Is that a diamond or a heart?’ ” she said.
She still has some of her sight, although her 98-year-old sister is fully blind.
MacCalman uses a short white cane because her legs go out and her hip can pop out of socket.
At the Montana Association for the Blind’s Summer Orientation Program, her orientation and mobility instructor, Tracey Orcutt, of Butte, adapted lessons in getting around to MacCalman’s physical needs.
In Aids to Daily Living classes, she learned different ways to tackle grooming, housekeeping and other everyday chores complicated by her vision loss.
A longtime baker, who also loved other types of cooking, MacCalman took both cooking and sewing lessons during the SOP.
Instructor Cherrie Albrecht, of Helena, showed MacCalman and other students how to use special self-threading needles for hand and machine sewing and to create special guides to move material in a straight line through the presser foot when sewing seams by machine.
“We just made so many things,” MacCalman said, ticking off sewing projects that included five pillows, six pot holders and a bag for carrying groceries.
She has two sons, a daughter, four grandchildren and six great-grandchildren. And her sewing projects will become gifts for family and friends.
At the SOP, she said, “The people have been just wonderful. It has been kind of like home.
“They don’t look at you as if you can’t do this, you can’t do that.”
For MacCalman, the adaptive skills learned are a key part in her goal to remain in the Deer Lodge home that the first of her two late husbands built in the 1940s.
“My main desire is I don’t have to leave it,” she said.
Monday, July 26, 2010
Bonnet's syndrome and reality
HUH?
That was my reaction, late last year, when I was contacted by a production company in England and asked to appear in a documentary. With my family.
The company, Firecracker Films, has made documentaries for the BBC, Sky, The Learning Channel and Discovery. And, they wanted me and my family for ... what?
I immediately conjured up images of my mother wandering around her yard like Edie Beale in "Grey Gardens," wearing turbans made of old green dishcloths.
Instead, it was my FATHER they wanted. In October 2007, I wrote a column in The Record about his first bout with Bonnet's syndrome, an unusual side effect of his macular degeneration.
Dad woke up one morning, looked out the window and saw non-existent shrubs on his front lawn. Other strange hallucinatory images followed.
Later that morning, in a nearby hospital ER, he saw balloons, polka dot curtains and, most eerily, his late mother walking toward him.
He was vague to doctors about what he was seeing because he was frightened and wanted to go home.
He assumed he was dying. I assumed he was experiencing a medication-related problem. But, that night, I went online, searched "macular degeneration/hallucinations" and discovered Bonnet's syndrome (identified in the 1700s by Swiss naturalist Charles Bonnet), in which patients with severe visual loss see vivid and seemingly real images of landscapes, patterns (plain white walls turned into busy brick walls) and even cartoon characters.
Dad and Bambi became great pals there for a while; Bambi still writes, periodically.
The problem comes in sieges, then disappears for months.
After the column ran I received letters from people all around the country who have dealt with this. And, when the folks at Firecracker began to consider a documentary on this strange condition, people they spoke to mentioned my article.
A month after that call from Firecracker, my father and I did telephone interviews and, later, Skype interviews with the production team. A few more months passed. Nothing. I assumed the shoot had been canceled.
But then, we were interviewed all over again. Dad. Me. My mother. Dates were tossed around.
"They're talking late August," I told my parents. "We're all going to be on TV!"
My father growled, "What are they paying me?"
"Dad, it's a documentary," I said, "they're not paying you. They'll be shooting here for a few days and ..."
"A few DAYS?" my mother screamed. "And I have to cook for all these people?"
"Who said anything about cooking?"
"Well, who's going to feed them?"
"Ma, they'll eat somewhere. And, stop complaining! This is huge! After it airs, our family will become synonymous with bizarre and occasionally grotesque hallucinations!"
Days later, the producer called again. Could I send him some photos of the house? He also wanted to know if it was possible for us to plan a "normal family dinner" with my entire abnormal family so they would shoot some supplemental footage. And, could he interview my 13-year-old niece, Talia? And ...
My sister-in-law OK'd the interview with Talia for July 16. On July 15, Tal warned her friends on Facebook that she would be busy the next day, "being interviewed for my TV show."
Naturally, her friends were curious, so she subsequently explained, "My grandpa has a desease where he sees people as like something diffrent and I hang out with himm so I'm gunna be on the documentary."
I still can't believe she spelled "documentary" correctly.
Her friends were thrilled. One explained, "I've seen those! When you're onscreen it will say, 'Talia. Grandchild.' "
My parents, meanwhile, were suddenly warming up to the idea. So was everyone else we know. Within weeks, our little onscreen "normal" family dinner grew to include, according to my mother, "Aunt Irene, baby Dominick, Marie from next door, cousin Caroline ..." and assorted other relatives who would get mad if they weren't included.
"Ma," I said, "we're shooting a documentary, not 'Gone With the Wind.' "
On Thursday, a letter arrived: "See you next month at dinner! Sincerely, Bambi."
When he's onscreen it will say, "Bambi. Fictional Deer."
After supper on Saturday, Mom asked me to drive her to the supermarket. En route, she said, "Your father won't admit it but he's excited. It's the only good thing to come out of this whole mess. I mean, we never even heard of this condition. No one in our family ever had vision problems."
She then pointed out the window and sighed, "Oh, look. A full moon. How nice."
"That's the sun," I corrected.
She squinted through the window. "Oh. Ha-ha. Where was I?"
Frankly, my biggest fear after people see my wacky family on TV is that we'll wind up getting a weekly series on Bravo.
That was my reaction, late last year, when I was contacted by a production company in England and asked to appear in a documentary. With my family.
The company, Firecracker Films, has made documentaries for the BBC, Sky, The Learning Channel and Discovery. And, they wanted me and my family for ... what?
I immediately conjured up images of my mother wandering around her yard like Edie Beale in "Grey Gardens," wearing turbans made of old green dishcloths.
Instead, it was my FATHER they wanted. In October 2007, I wrote a column in The Record about his first bout with Bonnet's syndrome, an unusual side effect of his macular degeneration.
Dad woke up one morning, looked out the window and saw non-existent shrubs on his front lawn. Other strange hallucinatory images followed.
Later that morning, in a nearby hospital ER, he saw balloons, polka dot curtains and, most eerily, his late mother walking toward him.
He was vague to doctors about what he was seeing because he was frightened and wanted to go home.
He assumed he was dying. I assumed he was experiencing a medication-related problem. But, that night, I went online, searched "macular degeneration/hallucinations" and discovered Bonnet's syndrome (identified in the 1700s by Swiss naturalist Charles Bonnet), in which patients with severe visual loss see vivid and seemingly real images of landscapes, patterns (plain white walls turned into busy brick walls) and even cartoon characters.
Dad and Bambi became great pals there for a while; Bambi still writes, periodically.
The problem comes in sieges, then disappears for months.
After the column ran I received letters from people all around the country who have dealt with this. And, when the folks at Firecracker began to consider a documentary on this strange condition, people they spoke to mentioned my article.
A month after that call from Firecracker, my father and I did telephone interviews and, later, Skype interviews with the production team. A few more months passed. Nothing. I assumed the shoot had been canceled.
But then, we were interviewed all over again. Dad. Me. My mother. Dates were tossed around.
"They're talking late August," I told my parents. "We're all going to be on TV!"
My father growled, "What are they paying me?"
"Dad, it's a documentary," I said, "they're not paying you. They'll be shooting here for a few days and ..."
"A few DAYS?" my mother screamed. "And I have to cook for all these people?"
"Who said anything about cooking?"
"Well, who's going to feed them?"
"Ma, they'll eat somewhere. And, stop complaining! This is huge! After it airs, our family will become synonymous with bizarre and occasionally grotesque hallucinations!"
Days later, the producer called again. Could I send him some photos of the house? He also wanted to know if it was possible for us to plan a "normal family dinner" with my entire abnormal family so they would shoot some supplemental footage. And, could he interview my 13-year-old niece, Talia? And ...
My sister-in-law OK'd the interview with Talia for July 16. On July 15, Tal warned her friends on Facebook that she would be busy the next day, "being interviewed for my TV show."
Naturally, her friends were curious, so she subsequently explained, "My grandpa has a desease where he sees people as like something diffrent and I hang out with himm so I'm gunna be on the documentary."
I still can't believe she spelled "documentary" correctly.
Her friends were thrilled. One explained, "I've seen those! When you're onscreen it will say, 'Talia. Grandchild.' "
My parents, meanwhile, were suddenly warming up to the idea. So was everyone else we know. Within weeks, our little onscreen "normal" family dinner grew to include, according to my mother, "Aunt Irene, baby Dominick, Marie from next door, cousin Caroline ..." and assorted other relatives who would get mad if they weren't included.
"Ma," I said, "we're shooting a documentary, not 'Gone With the Wind.' "
On Thursday, a letter arrived: "See you next month at dinner! Sincerely, Bambi."
When he's onscreen it will say, "Bambi. Fictional Deer."
After supper on Saturday, Mom asked me to drive her to the supermarket. En route, she said, "Your father won't admit it but he's excited. It's the only good thing to come out of this whole mess. I mean, we never even heard of this condition. No one in our family ever had vision problems."
She then pointed out the window and sighed, "Oh, look. A full moon. How nice."
"That's the sun," I corrected.
She squinted through the window. "Oh. Ha-ha. Where was I?"
Frankly, my biggest fear after people see my wacky family on TV is that we'll wind up getting a weekly series on Bravo.
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
Visually Impaired women swims to raise money for cancer
The Steve Omi Memorial Swim was started in 1994 in honor of Steve Omi, an avid swimmer who died of cancer one month prior to his 37th birthday.
Participant Carol Nelson, of Hayden, who is visually impaired, said she relishes the opportunity to compete on a more even playing field. Swimming events provide that, she said.
"It's something that I can still do," she said.
She said her vision has been limited by Stargardt's macular degeneration.
"I have no excuses today," Nelson said.
Last year's event winner, Bryce Kananowicz, said he just likes to swim.
But "it's fun to meet people, too," he said. "And the money goes to a good cause."
As a 13-year-old last year, he swam the mile in 19 minutes, 42 seconds.
Kananowicz, of Liberty Lake, said he wanted to beat last year's time, and planned to go out hard and get away from the pack of swimmers.
"Anything under 19 minutes is good with me," he said.
He finished in 19:41 Sunday.
Participant Carol Nelson, of Hayden, who is visually impaired, said she relishes the opportunity to compete on a more even playing field. Swimming events provide that, she said.
"It's something that I can still do," she said.
She said her vision has been limited by Stargardt's macular degeneration.
"I have no excuses today," Nelson said.
Last year's event winner, Bryce Kananowicz, said he just likes to swim.
But "it's fun to meet people, too," he said. "And the money goes to a good cause."
As a 13-year-old last year, he swam the mile in 19 minutes, 42 seconds.
Kananowicz, of Liberty Lake, said he wanted to beat last year's time, and planned to go out hard and get away from the pack of swimmers.
"Anything under 19 minutes is good with me," he said.
He finished in 19:41 Sunday.
Monday, July 12, 2010
Legally Blind Man Working to Improve Pedestrian Safety in Montgomery
The great irony for William Smith is that the worse his vision becomes, the more he sees.
There is the bus stop on Fenton Street in Silver Spring, built on a platform so close to the street that it's nearly impossible for the blind or disabled person to get to. There's the crosswalk where Georgia Avenue forks into Viers Mill Road in Wheaton that could pass as a maze. And don't even mention the construction zones that frequently block sidewalks.
Smith, 46, notices such things mainly because of his inability to see them.
The stay-at-home dad is legally blind. He has an eye disorder that progressively inhibits his central vision. But that hasn't stopped him from walking the streets of his Silver Spring neighborhood, camera in hand, to document each and every obstruction.
The hurdles he faces spurred him last year to launch a blog, Montgomery Sideways. There he chronicles the impediments he encounters, raises safety concerns for other disabled residents and lets county officials know where they have fallen short.
Smith said he seeks to raise awareness because the problems he finds aren't mere inconveniences. They are roadblocks to something much more precious: his independence.
"Initially, it was just so I could walk around," he said of Montgomery Sideways. "I realize now stuff like good sidewalks don't happen by themselves.
A need for safety
The things he notices now haven't always concerned him. His macular degeneration was diagnosed when he was 14. He still got his driver's license when he turned 16 and buzzed around the streets, not all that worried about the plight of the pedestrian.
In 1989, when he was 25, the disease progressed to the point where he could no longer drive. He was consigned to getting by on his two feet, which, to his surprise, was liberating.
"Being freed by not driving changes your perception -- it's profoundly sublime," Smith said. "Walking is the most natural thing. Knowing that his vision would continue to decline, Smith and his wife, Kathleen, moved to a house in Silver Spring close to schools, stores and churches. His mission as a self-described ambulatory activist began a dozen years ago with a sidewalk near his house. It was riddled with potholes and, apparently, bad luck.
In 1998, he was walking his two young children to school at East Silver Spring Elementary when his 4-year-old daughter tripped in a hole and hit her head. A week later, she was nearly hit by a car when a driver whipped through the crosswalk.
He first worked with parents and community officials to have that sidewalk replaced. That grew into sitting in on County Council meetings, e-mailing officials about safety concerns and trying to get the attention of his neighbors.
Smith then moved his efforts online. He "started with a discussion list, with two or three readers," said Kathy Jentz, editor and publisher of Washington Gardener magazine and a "car-free" resident of Silver Spring. "I think he was disappointed with that, and I told him, 'You might want to look into a blog.' "
Giving officials a set of eyes on the ground
He started Montgomery Sideways in October, and he's already sparking a conversation.
Smith's photo of the bus stop on Fenton Street was posted to several blogs, which caused quite a few phone calls to officials, said Jeff Dunckel, pedestrian safety coordinator for Montgomery County.
Dunckel said county officials had planned to build a ramp at the bus stop even before Smith documented the access issue, but his photos prompted them to rethink their plans. Now, instead of a ramp, the county will build a stop in a more accessible location.
The budget for the county's $5 million pedestrian safety program was cut by almost 10 percent in May, forcing the department to end its education efforts. Dunckel said Smith fills the void by being a set of eyes on the ground.
John Z Wetmore, a pedestrian advocate in Bethesda and host of the cable access television program "Perils for Pedestrians," said Smith alerts the community to hazards that often are overlooked.
"Most people have been dealing with a bad pedestrian environment for so long, they have learned to ignore it," Wetmore said.
It's his passion to correct that environment, Smith said, that commits him to the arduous task of maintaining the blog with limited sight.
Updating is "physically painful," he said. To use his computer, he has to hunch forward in his chair, sitting only a few inches from the 42-inch monitor he has set up in his basement, placing additional strain on his eyes.
It is a marked difference from the man traipsing about Silver Spring. He doesn't use a cane. There is no guide dog. Smith gets around relatively unfettered. He's trying to hold onto his independence as long as possible.
"The biggest problem is at what point do I identify myself as a blind person," Smith said. "I'm fighting it because I'm vain. I hate to admit it. I'm trying to live normally as long as I can."
There is the bus stop on Fenton Street in Silver Spring, built on a platform so close to the street that it's nearly impossible for the blind or disabled person to get to. There's the crosswalk where Georgia Avenue forks into Viers Mill Road in Wheaton that could pass as a maze. And don't even mention the construction zones that frequently block sidewalks.
Smith, 46, notices such things mainly because of his inability to see them.
The stay-at-home dad is legally blind. He has an eye disorder that progressively inhibits his central vision. But that hasn't stopped him from walking the streets of his Silver Spring neighborhood, camera in hand, to document each and every obstruction.
The hurdles he faces spurred him last year to launch a blog, Montgomery Sideways. There he chronicles the impediments he encounters, raises safety concerns for other disabled residents and lets county officials know where they have fallen short.
Smith said he seeks to raise awareness because the problems he finds aren't mere inconveniences. They are roadblocks to something much more precious: his independence.
"Initially, it was just so I could walk around," he said of Montgomery Sideways. "I realize now stuff like good sidewalks don't happen by themselves.
A need for safety
The things he notices now haven't always concerned him. His macular degeneration was diagnosed when he was 14. He still got his driver's license when he turned 16 and buzzed around the streets, not all that worried about the plight of the pedestrian.
In 1989, when he was 25, the disease progressed to the point where he could no longer drive. He was consigned to getting by on his two feet, which, to his surprise, was liberating.
"Being freed by not driving changes your perception -- it's profoundly sublime," Smith said. "Walking is the most natural thing. Knowing that his vision would continue to decline, Smith and his wife, Kathleen, moved to a house in Silver Spring close to schools, stores and churches. His mission as a self-described ambulatory activist began a dozen years ago with a sidewalk near his house. It was riddled with potholes and, apparently, bad luck.
In 1998, he was walking his two young children to school at East Silver Spring Elementary when his 4-year-old daughter tripped in a hole and hit her head. A week later, she was nearly hit by a car when a driver whipped through the crosswalk.
He first worked with parents and community officials to have that sidewalk replaced. That grew into sitting in on County Council meetings, e-mailing officials about safety concerns and trying to get the attention of his neighbors.
Smith then moved his efforts online. He "started with a discussion list, with two or three readers," said Kathy Jentz, editor and publisher of Washington Gardener magazine and a "car-free" resident of Silver Spring. "I think he was disappointed with that, and I told him, 'You might want to look into a blog.' "
Giving officials a set of eyes on the ground
He started Montgomery Sideways in October, and he's already sparking a conversation.
Smith's photo of the bus stop on Fenton Street was posted to several blogs, which caused quite a few phone calls to officials, said Jeff Dunckel, pedestrian safety coordinator for Montgomery County.
Dunckel said county officials had planned to build a ramp at the bus stop even before Smith documented the access issue, but his photos prompted them to rethink their plans. Now, instead of a ramp, the county will build a stop in a more accessible location.
The budget for the county's $5 million pedestrian safety program was cut by almost 10 percent in May, forcing the department to end its education efforts. Dunckel said Smith fills the void by being a set of eyes on the ground.
John Z Wetmore, a pedestrian advocate in Bethesda and host of the cable access television program "Perils for Pedestrians," said Smith alerts the community to hazards that often are overlooked.
"Most people have been dealing with a bad pedestrian environment for so long, they have learned to ignore it," Wetmore said.
It's his passion to correct that environment, Smith said, that commits him to the arduous task of maintaining the blog with limited sight.
Updating is "physically painful," he said. To use his computer, he has to hunch forward in his chair, sitting only a few inches from the 42-inch monitor he has set up in his basement, placing additional strain on his eyes.
It is a marked difference from the man traipsing about Silver Spring. He doesn't use a cane. There is no guide dog. Smith gets around relatively unfettered. He's trying to hold onto his independence as long as possible.
"The biggest problem is at what point do I identify myself as a blind person," Smith said. "I'm fighting it because I'm vain. I hate to admit it. I'm trying to live normally as long as I can."
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
"Champion" takes care of meeting guest needs
LOCKPORT—Teresa Fernald Howard, who works at Lockport’s Holiday Inn on South Transit Street, is the huge hotel chain’s first legally blind “Guest Experience Champion” in the country.
Howard has juvenile macular degeneration, also known as Stargardt’s disease, the most common inherited form of the condition.
“Macular degeneration refers to an abnormality of the part of the eye that’s responsible for our sharpest central vision,” explained Howard, who also lives in Lockport.
The condition doesn’t stop Howard from living a full life, and making sure that Holiday Inn guests enjoy their stay. Job requirements include “good time management” skills and putting “the guest first.”
“[Howard] has exemplary customer service skills, a wonderful sense of humor and a can-do attitude that we haven’t seen in our hotel for many years,” said Terri McDonald-Gale, marketing director at the local hotel.
Tell us about your family.
I’m from a family of six children. The first three children were not affected by this condition. The fourth child, Ken, was diagnosed with JMD when he was around age 7. I am child No. 5 and was diagnosed shortly after my brother Ken. Child No. 6 was unaffected.
And your parents?
We were blessed with two wonderful parents, Wayne and Patricia Fernald. They were devastated at first to find out the news that two of their children would become blind, and the fact that there wasn’t any treatment or cure for JMD. They took my brother and [me] to different specialists, and they ran many tests. After the initial shock, they decided they would do everything they could to
help us lead as normal lives as possible.
How?
Instead of telling us we couldn’t do things, they told us we could. They’d assist us when we asked for help, but they would let us try things on our own first. Unbeknownst to them, this was the best gift that they could have given me.
Is there a cure for JMD?
Unfortunately, at this time there still is not any treatment or cure for JMD.
I can’t drive a car, so I must depend on someone else for any transportation. I have some vision, but I cannot read normal text. I use large print and magnification tools to assist in this.
I can’t see myself in the mirror.
How do you fix your hair?
I apply make-up and style my hair by touch.
My most recent setback is losing my ability to differentiate colors. I need to ask, “What color is this?” Or use a color detector. My husband, Jason, and children have been a great help with these challenges, by reading things to me—they are excellent readers—helping me with colors, and other little things I need assistance with.
What’s a color detector?
The color detector is a device that “speaks” the color of the item you put its lens on. It is not 100 percent accurate. It once told me my black-and-white dog was olive green. Also, in the right light, my skin is called “orange.” You must have a sense of humor to deal with some of the technology.
How did you come to live in Lockport?
My husband’s job brought us to this area almost four years ago. I grew up in Tampa, Fla., until the age of 14, and then moved to Binghamton. I graduated in 1987 from Chenango Forks High School near Binghamton.
Tell us about your job.
I’ve always loved working with people. My background’s in the customer service field. Last year, I attended the National Statler Center for Careers in Hospitality Service. This is how I came to be where I am to-day.
Part of the curriculum was completing an externship. Mine was at the Holiday Inn in Lockport. From the moment I arrived at the Holiday Inn, met the staff and my on-hands training began, everything fell into place, as I felt that I had truly found the job for me. Here, I was able to actually spend time with a customer, seeing that all their needs were met in a friendly, courteous manner.
What’s the difference between good and bad service?
Hospitality is all about making guests feel like they matter, and that you’re not in a hurry to move on to the next person.
How do you like your job?
I can’t tell you how refreshing it is to wake up and look forward to going to work. Mycoworkers have been so helpful and non-judgmental. I think they appreciate my attributes and look beyond my handicap.
Who and what inspire you?
My parents, family, close friends, and my faith in God have influenced and inspired me, especially my mom, dad, sister and brothers, who encouraged me to take on challenges and not to let my vision hold me back.
Now I’m trying to teach my children to not be afraid of a challenge. I also feel God doesn’t give us more then we can handle. That’s why I was blessed with twins, a daughter, Chelsea, and a son, Cameron, who have just turned 12.
What advice do you have for readers facing challenges?
Something I’d pass on to others in a similar situation would be: Shine at what you’re good at, and allow others to notice that about you. Learn how to do things in your own way. If the end result is the same, it doesn’t matter how you got there.
And for others?
Don’t judge someone until you’ve walked in their shoes. Look beyond the handicap. Give someone a chance. You might be surprised how much they can do.
Howard has juvenile macular degeneration, also known as Stargardt’s disease, the most common inherited form of the condition.
“Macular degeneration refers to an abnormality of the part of the eye that’s responsible for our sharpest central vision,” explained Howard, who also lives in Lockport.
The condition doesn’t stop Howard from living a full life, and making sure that Holiday Inn guests enjoy their stay. Job requirements include “good time management” skills and putting “the guest first.”
“[Howard] has exemplary customer service skills, a wonderful sense of humor and a can-do attitude that we haven’t seen in our hotel for many years,” said Terri McDonald-Gale, marketing director at the local hotel.
Tell us about your family.
I’m from a family of six children. The first three children were not affected by this condition. The fourth child, Ken, was diagnosed with JMD when he was around age 7. I am child No. 5 and was diagnosed shortly after my brother Ken. Child No. 6 was unaffected.
And your parents?
We were blessed with two wonderful parents, Wayne and Patricia Fernald. They were devastated at first to find out the news that two of their children would become blind, and the fact that there wasn’t any treatment or cure for JMD. They took my brother and [me] to different specialists, and they ran many tests. After the initial shock, they decided they would do everything they could to
help us lead as normal lives as possible.
How?
Instead of telling us we couldn’t do things, they told us we could. They’d assist us when we asked for help, but they would let us try things on our own first. Unbeknownst to them, this was the best gift that they could have given me.
Is there a cure for JMD?
Unfortunately, at this time there still is not any treatment or cure for JMD.
I can’t drive a car, so I must depend on someone else for any transportation. I have some vision, but I cannot read normal text. I use large print and magnification tools to assist in this.
I can’t see myself in the mirror.
How do you fix your hair?
I apply make-up and style my hair by touch.
My most recent setback is losing my ability to differentiate colors. I need to ask, “What color is this?” Or use a color detector. My husband, Jason, and children have been a great help with these challenges, by reading things to me—they are excellent readers—helping me with colors, and other little things I need assistance with.
What’s a color detector?
The color detector is a device that “speaks” the color of the item you put its lens on. It is not 100 percent accurate. It once told me my black-and-white dog was olive green. Also, in the right light, my skin is called “orange.” You must have a sense of humor to deal with some of the technology.
How did you come to live in Lockport?
My husband’s job brought us to this area almost four years ago. I grew up in Tampa, Fla., until the age of 14, and then moved to Binghamton. I graduated in 1987 from Chenango Forks High School near Binghamton.
Tell us about your job.
I’ve always loved working with people. My background’s in the customer service field. Last year, I attended the National Statler Center for Careers in Hospitality Service. This is how I came to be where I am to-day.
Part of the curriculum was completing an externship. Mine was at the Holiday Inn in Lockport. From the moment I arrived at the Holiday Inn, met the staff and my on-hands training began, everything fell into place, as I felt that I had truly found the job for me. Here, I was able to actually spend time with a customer, seeing that all their needs were met in a friendly, courteous manner.
What’s the difference between good and bad service?
Hospitality is all about making guests feel like they matter, and that you’re not in a hurry to move on to the next person.
How do you like your job?
I can’t tell you how refreshing it is to wake up and look forward to going to work. Mycoworkers have been so helpful and non-judgmental. I think they appreciate my attributes and look beyond my handicap.
Who and what inspire you?
My parents, family, close friends, and my faith in God have influenced and inspired me, especially my mom, dad, sister and brothers, who encouraged me to take on challenges and not to let my vision hold me back.
Now I’m trying to teach my children to not be afraid of a challenge. I also feel God doesn’t give us more then we can handle. That’s why I was blessed with twins, a daughter, Chelsea, and a son, Cameron, who have just turned 12.
What advice do you have for readers facing challenges?
Something I’d pass on to others in a similar situation would be: Shine at what you’re good at, and allow others to notice that about you. Learn how to do things in your own way. If the end result is the same, it doesn’t matter how you got there.
And for others?
Don’t judge someone until you’ve walked in their shoes. Look beyond the handicap. Give someone a chance. You might be surprised how much they can do.
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