In search of the Blind Man's smile

Oprah always talks about her “ah-ha” moment. She says it is that pivotal moment where we gain insight into who we are and what meaning we will give to our life. They can occur any time and it is even possible to have several through the course of one’s life. My first Ah-ha moment came to me when I was sixteen years old, standing at a bus stop, because of a blind man.

It was a warm rainy day on the corner of Penn and Highland in East Liberty. I was wrapped up in a conversation in my head. I was angry with my sister for not coming to pick me up. She was infamous for not picking people up when she was supposed to. I always said that it was because she couldn’t think past herself. My sister was the cutest girl on the block. Three years my senior, we are as different as hot is cold. Sherry is tall, thin, and very attentive to her hair and dress. For a time, she was also a model. I, on the other hand, barely made it to five foot four and was happy to walk outside in whatever outfit I happened to wake up in. As a young adult Sherry would save her money to buy pretty clothes; I saved mine to buy puppies.

In my early years, I had three objectives: to welcome all newcomers to the neighborhood, to watch the sunrise each day, and to save as many animals as I could. I never made strong connections with people. It wasn’t as important to me to be a friend as it was to make sure they followed the rules. This would ensure that their transition to living on my street would be a happy one. My family called me the unofficial official welcome wagon.

To this day, watching the sunrise is one of the most awe-inspiring experiences that I can witness. Every day without fail, the sun rises…every day. I have never taken that for granted.

My favorite thing to do back then would be to sit on the roof outside my parents’ bedroom and watch the sun come up and listen for the first bird of the morning. My parents never knew that I would sneak out on the roof while they slept, or maybe they knew and just didn’t care. Once when I went to sit on the roof, my dad turned towards me in his sleep and I saw what no child should ever see. That was my last time in their room. I sat on the front porch instead. I love my family and I know they love me, but if I had a choice, watching the sun rise or tending to my pets was much more preferable than watching my family scurry along with their everyday rituals and ending the night by sitting around watching TV and stuffing their face.

So, at the bus stop that day, I wasn’t surprised when my sister didn’t pick me up, but I was angry. It was crowded that morning, and the waiting passengers huddled together to escape the rain. No one would make room for me and I was getting soaked. In my head, I was rehearsing all the mean things that I was going to tell my sister when suddenly, this man walks up and stands beside me. He was using a cane to help guide his steps, and I realized he was blind. There wasn’t anything peculiar about him; no identifying marks that would make him stand out. His hair was neat; his clothes pressed. I paid him no mind. I was busy in my mind; I had a score to settle.

Everyone at the bus stop seemed to be consumed with petty busyness. Some were engrossed in conversation, while others read or smoked their cigarettes. Out of nowhere came a thunderous voice. It was the blind man. “How is everybody today?” he asked. Startled, I looked up at the man and saw that he was smiling up at the sky. No one gave a response to his question of how they were feeling and I watched his gentle smile slip away to be replaced by a look of sadness.

Have you watched a movie where you are shown a rapid series of images of an actor’s recall of some event? These recollections all come together at the end with a tight shot of the actor’s eyes opening wide? That’s what an Ah-ha moment feels like. That’s what I experienced that day except instead of a barrage of images; it was a series of rapid thoughts. I remember thinking: this man feels bad now, he’s a person, he didn’t do anything except speak to us, I should speak, speak to him; speak to him, SPEAK TO HIM! So I shouted, “I’m fine, how are you?” What happened next has defined my life to this day… he smiled again. This smile, however, was not your typical “good morning to you” smile. This smile said thank you for recognizing me. This smile said thank you for validating me.

I know that as a teenager it wasn’t just puppies that caught my attention but also boys and fast cars. I certainly had no interest in making people smile, but that man’s smile; his smile had touched me. It made me happy to see his smile return. I thought it didn’t take much to simply say hello, so imagine how happy I could make someone if I went out of my way and put some effort into this?

It wasn’t as easy as I thought it would be. It wasn’t easy at all….

I made it my mission to help people whenever I could. No matter where I was if I could help you then that’s what I would do. When it became tedious, I had to ask myself who was I doing this for, me or them. I learned early that doing for others does not mean that you will get the same. You barrel through and you keep treating people the way you would like to be treated.

By the time I reached my mid-twenties, I learned to discern between helping people and being used by them. Most of all, I learned that I will never be a superwoman. I won’t save the

world and there will always be people worse off than me. Somewhere in my newly found quest, I came to think that not being able to help everyone made me a failure. I lost myself. I fell into a vortex of darkness because I put everyone before myself. For ten straight years, I put everyone’s needs before my own. It sucked the life out of me. It took some time to find a balance between helping others and helping me, but I did. I have no problem helping anyone, but I also know when to say no. No is a powerful word. It might be said that showing kindness and helping people isn’t anything new, and you would be right. My moment of clarity wasn’t really about showing kindness. It was about seeing the world through another’s eyes. I discovered empathy. For the first time, I saw the world through someone’s eyes…a blind man’s eyes.

He gave me my connection to this world.