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Bruce, Caroline

Blind Optimism: LJ Idol, Week 6

I've always said, and rightly, that being blind requires a great deal of
trust. Many's the time you have to trust the person leading you, the
person driving you, etc., to know what they're doing, and to be reliable
as a person, even though you may have just met the person minutes ago.

But as I sit here reflecting, I realize that hope and trusting go
hand-in-hand. I trust person A, and I then must hope that person A is
worthy of that trust.

The place: The West Edmonton Mall in Edmonton, Alberta. The time:
Reading Week, 1991, my last year in college. The girl: Arlene; student,
friend, fellow choir member.

At the center of the mall is a place called Fantasy Land. It's basically
an amusement park inside the mall, with roller coaster, water slides,
and so on. One of the rides you can go on, or at least you could back
then, is the Drop of Doom. Basically, you pay a lot of money so you can
fall. Manitoba winters give us this privilege at no charge, though I
have no doubt the government is even now trying to figure out a way to
put a tax on it. I hope they don't. So anyway, I had taken this
ride several times. Apparently I had more money than I knew what to do
with, a notion that seems incongruous with most of my memories of
college life. But I was tired of this ride, so when Arlene, who was
leading me around, wanted to go on it yet again, I opted out. "Show me a
place to sit," I implored, "and I'll just wait this one out." I
hoped she would accept my request. She did.

And so, I sat there and waited, hoping she had not forgotten me.
I waited, I hoped. I hoped, I waited. And just when I got to feeling
that Arlene wasn't coming back for me, she didn't come back for me.

It was about an hour and a half later. I was still sitting in my happy
little corner, contemplating whether or not I'd ever get back together
with my family, loved ones, and former friend (my thoughts about Arlene
were not especially charitable at this point, although I hoped to
see her again at some point so I could spell out in considerable detail
my opinions of that afternoon's proceedings). Just when I was beginning
to lose hope, a friendly voice (not Arlene's) asked, "Have you been
forgotten?"

Quick math break. Had I? I'd been waiting for the last hour and a half.
Arlene's falling-down ride lasted for, oh, eight seconds. I decided I
must have been, and said so. I thus got reunited with the choir, still
hoping for a chance at a little chitchat with dear Arlene.

Several hours later, I was in a food court, drinking a well-deserved
Coke, when Arlene appeared on the scene. My hopes had been
fulfilled. I waited for the apology, I waited for a chance to give her a
cold reception. I did not get the former, but got more than ample
opportunity for the latter. Her first words to me: not "Oh man, I'm
sorry, Bruce", not "Oh my gosh, Bruce, I totally forgot", not even "Hi
Bruce, did you enjoy sitting in a corner all afternoon?" Her first words
to me were: "Bruce, can I borrow five bucks?" I hoped she was
kidding. That hope was not realized. She was dead serious. I, too, was
deadly serious in my absolute, flat-out, indignant refusal.

I did eventually forgive Arlene, though I made it a point of taking my
sweet time letting her know that all was forgiven. Watching her suck up
to me was the most entertainment I'd had in a long time. So the story
has a happy ending, and I hope you enjoyed it.
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Comments

Seems, indeed, that many sighted friends/acquaintances tend to "forget" about us blindies a lot when we ask for their assistance in leading us around in unfamiliar situations. I've had this happen on more than a few occasions. usually, what I do is, if the other person is carrying around a cell phone is to get their name and number so that I can get a hold of them wherever they are if they happen to "forget" and so that we can thus hook up again.

Itis still a little disheartening, though, you know, the fact that we often seem so insignificant to them?
I hear you. But cellphones were a lot rarer in 1991 than they are today. I didn't get my first one until 1994.
I'm not sure I would have been able to forgive like you did.
Same here, and I whole-heartedly agree about the trust and hope that does go hand-in-hand. I wouldn't have forgiven her for forgetting me...
It's the Christian thing to do, and seeing as how I talk the talk, I'd better be prepared to walk the walk, too.
Very good point. You have to forgive someone over time.. I did the same thing after high school, although it took five years for me to forgive someone for the things that happened to me... it is all in God's time.
O man... I'm not sure I would have as charitable a nature to forgive... but I commend YOU for being that forgiving. Great post... made me think!
I hate having to sit somewhere, hoping that someone will remember to come back for me. That has got to be the most helpless feeling in all the world.
Wow, that's ridiculous on her part. She could've at least asked how you were first. I've dealt with people who've gotten so swept up in whatever they were doing that they forgot to help me with whatever the issue was. I guess most blind folks have.
wow that's not something i have ever thought about, thank you for sharing this story
Hope and revenge going hand in hand? Smile
Wow. That's some story. I can't believe anyone would be so thoughtless!
I can't imagine just...leaving somebody. In any circumstances, really.

But I'm happy to read that you eventually forgave, and I would say that your position requires a basic hope for the best in humanity. I admire that.

~*~