Michael
His Mother is acquainted with mine and we delivered her home roasted nuts to him at Christmas time. He had recently moved to Tallahassee after losing his vision two years ago. Topper, his service dog, was thrilled to have visitors as was Michael. I have never been around a blind person to know anything about how they get by living alone. But in that short visit, I learned that Michael had lost not only his sight, but a way of life. He had been an avid fly fisherman and instructor. He back packed, did hang gliding, and an entire array of outdoor sports. Now, his life centered around learning how to be blind. He's learned braille, established his apartment and set up voice activated everything that couldn't be labeled in braille. He and Topper get a 4-5 mile walk in daily, but aside from that, his days of adventure have been limited.
We spoke of the oystering and he gently asked if he could go out with me. Why not I thought. Why not. I had recently taken my 87 year old parents out to sort my brood, why not a blind man.
On first venture the weather was 1/3/2016; a blustery 50-55 degree day. Somewhat cloud covered and a bit choppy, but nothing dangerous. I hired Audrey, a woman who had experience with the oysters and who seemed a gentle and caring person. My thought was if something happened: Topper jumped out, or whatever, she could help.
I seated Michael on the bow - gave him gloves which he immediately decided would limit his sorting ability and handed him a culling bar. Three inches and over here - two inchers here - smaller here. These are the 6mm, 12mm and 20mm baskets. Zip Ties for safety closure. Nippers to cut off the old ties. This is the top and how the latch works. The clips and how they swing on the line. His engineering mind got it all in seconds.
Oyster colored Topper sat on a 4' sq portion of a pool float with a warm Woolrich picnic blanket atop. He nested and settled in a Michaels feet. He blended into the work. I could never quite tell if he enjoyed the day. I mean, a Labrador retriever on the water showing no inkling of wanting to jump in to chase a duck or pelican or the blue crabs skirting atop my baskets.
We pulled 100 baskets, sorted, refilled and re hung them. The water level never got low enough for Michael to enter the water in his hip boots he had purchased for the outing so Audrey and I did the schlepping, Michael the sorting and zipping.
Audrey picked up a basket - turned to Michael saying "show me your hands' and sure enough one of the sharp 'bills' of shell growth had sliced Michaels finger. We wrapped it, applied pressure, gauze and duck tapped it and he carried on, unfazed, but then he was unable to see the amount of blood.
We sat at Mad Anthony's next to the patio heaters sipping beers. It was a stellar day for him. The cold, the cut, the repetition was all new, outside and invigorating. I could feel the excitement in his voice when he let me know he would be available whenever.
For me, he is a blessing. A joy. A new found friend and helper. And I knew we'd go again.
We spoke of the oystering and he gently asked if he could go out with me. Why not I thought. Why not. I had recently taken my 87 year old parents out to sort my brood, why not a blind man.
On first venture the weather was 1/3/2016; a blustery 50-55 degree day. Somewhat cloud covered and a bit choppy, but nothing dangerous. I hired Audrey, a woman who had experience with the oysters and who seemed a gentle and caring person. My thought was if something happened: Topper jumped out, or whatever, she could help.
I seated Michael on the bow - gave him gloves which he immediately decided would limit his sorting ability and handed him a culling bar. Three inches and over here - two inchers here - smaller here. These are the 6mm, 12mm and 20mm baskets. Zip Ties for safety closure. Nippers to cut off the old ties. This is the top and how the latch works. The clips and how they swing on the line. His engineering mind got it all in seconds.
Oyster colored Topper sat on a 4' sq portion of a pool float with a warm Woolrich picnic blanket atop. He nested and settled in a Michaels feet. He blended into the work. I could never quite tell if he enjoyed the day. I mean, a Labrador retriever on the water showing no inkling of wanting to jump in to chase a duck or pelican or the blue crabs skirting atop my baskets.
We pulled 100 baskets, sorted, refilled and re hung them. The water level never got low enough for Michael to enter the water in his hip boots he had purchased for the outing so Audrey and I did the schlepping, Michael the sorting and zipping.
Audrey picked up a basket - turned to Michael saying "show me your hands' and sure enough one of the sharp 'bills' of shell growth had sliced Michaels finger. We wrapped it, applied pressure, gauze and duck tapped it and he carried on, unfazed, but then he was unable to see the amount of blood.
We sat at Mad Anthony's next to the patio heaters sipping beers. It was a stellar day for him. The cold, the cut, the repetition was all new, outside and invigorating. I could feel the excitement in his voice when he let me know he would be available whenever.
For me, he is a blessing. A joy. A new found friend and helper. And I knew we'd go again.
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