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<P style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in" class=MsoNormal
align=center><U><SPAN style="COLOR: black; FONT-SIZE: 12pt"><FONT
face="Times New Roman">Deianna <o:p></o:p></FONT></SPAN></U></P>
<P style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in" class=MsoNormal
align=center><U><SPAN style="COLOR: black; FONT-SIZE: 12pt"><o:p><SPAN
style="TEXT-DECORATION: none"><FONT
face="Times New Roman"> </FONT></SPAN></o:p></SPAN></U></P>
<P style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in" class=MsoNormal
align=center><U><SPAN style="COLOR: black; FONT-SIZE: 12pt"><o:p><SPAN
style="TEXT-DECORATION: none"><FONT
face="Times New Roman"> </FONT></SPAN></o:p></SPAN></U></P>
<P style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in" class=MsoNormal
align=center><U><SPAN style="COLOR: black; FONT-SIZE: 12pt"><FONT
face="Times New Roman">I love this piece. A lot of it is girl technology, but I
easily understand everything you are saying. Subtle humor is pervasive, but
occasionally a really punch line comes in which made me laugh out loud.<SPAN
style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </SPAN>Good
job.<o:p></o:p></FONT></SPAN></U></P>
<P style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in" class=MsoNormal
align=center><SPAN style="COLOR: black; FONT-SIZE: 12pt"><o:p><FONT
face="Times New Roman"> </FONT></o:p></SPAN></P>
<P style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in" class=MsoNormal
align=center><SPAN style="COLOR: black; FONT-SIZE: 12pt"><FONT
face="Times New Roman">No Outfit is Complete Without a Few Dog
Hairs<o:p></o:p></FONT></SPAN></P>
<P style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in" class=MsoNormal
align=center><SPAN style="COLOR: black"><o:p><FONT
face="Times New Roman"> </FONT></o:p></SPAN></P>
<P style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify; MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in" class=MsoNormal><SPAN
style="COLOR: black; FONT-SIZE: 12pt"><FONT
face="Times New Roman">
Dogs shed. This is a fact of life to be included when considering becoming
a dog guide handler. By the time we left The Seeing Eye, Tammy’s
<o:p></o:p></FONT></SPAN></P>
<P style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify; MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in"
class=MsoNormal><U><SPAN style="COLOR: black; FONT-SIZE: 12pt"><FONT
face="Times New Roman">When you say, :Seeing Eye,” I know it is the title of a
place because it is in caps. But I think it would be clearer if you added
something like ‘facility.’<o:p></o:p></FONT></SPAN></U></P>
<P style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify; MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in" class=MsoNormal><SPAN
style="COLOR: black; FONT-SIZE: 12pt"><o:p><FONT
face="Times New Roman"> </FONT></o:p></SPAN></P>
<P style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify; MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in" class=MsoNormal><SPAN
style="COLOR: black; FONT-SIZE: 12pt"><FONT face="Times New Roman">coat shone
with daily brushing. This minimized the amount of fur she deposited on
carpets and my clothes, but didn’t eliminate it completely. Labs have what
is called a double-coat. The outer layer is made up of straight slightly
stiff longer hairs. Under this is a soft fluffy fine coat for
insulation. Tammy had two shed-outs a year, one in fall and a major one in
spring. Taking her to a dog groomer for a good vigorous bath and brushing
helped remove a lot of her undercoat. But for a few weeks each spring and
fall, daily brushing harvested enough fluff to knit a litter of puppies.
<o:p></o:p></FONT></SPAN></P>
<P style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify; MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in"
class=MsoNormal><U><SPAN style="COLOR: black; FONT-SIZE: 12pt"><FONT
face="Times New Roman">I love this sentence.<o:p></o:p></FONT></SPAN></U></P>
<P style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify; MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in" class=MsoNormal><SPAN
style="COLOR: black; FONT-SIZE: 12pt"><o:p><FONT
face="Times New Roman"> </FONT></o:p></SPAN></P>
<P style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify; MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in" class=MsoNormal><SPAN
style="COLOR: black; FONT-SIZE: 12pt"><FONT face="Times New Roman">Before
training with Tammy, I had always loved red, pink, any vivid bright color.
In childhood, they were the colors I could recognize the longest as my vision
began to deteriorate. When I was seven, I was disappointed that no one
noticed it when I wore a new red dress. My mother laughed and marched me
into my room. She opened my closet and pointed out that almost all of my
dresses were solid red, red plaid, red stripes, or red polka dotted.
<o:p></o:p></FONT></SPAN></P>
<P style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify; MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in"
class=MsoNormal><U><SPAN style="COLOR: black; FONT-SIZE: 12pt"><FONT
face="Times New Roman">I realy relate to this. I see whatI think I should see,
so I am dumbfounded when I find out that my favorite black coat is really
green.<o:p></o:p></FONT></SPAN></U></P>
<P style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify; MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in" class=MsoNormal><SPAN
style="COLOR: black; FONT-SIZE: 12pt"><o:p><FONT
face="Times New Roman"> </FONT></o:p></SPAN></P>
<P style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify; TEXT-INDENT: 0.5in; MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in"
class=MsoNormal><SPAN style="COLOR: black; FONT-SIZE: 12pt"><FONT
face="Times New Roman">Mom had taught me to make French knots to braille my
sweaters, headbands and socks to help me match my accessories when
dressing. I tried not to buy two items of clothing that were identical in
fabric or style. I learned to sew in junior high and with a lot of help from my
mother I always managed to be attractively dressed. Having grown up in
poverty, it was important to Mom that we not be embarrassed at school by our
clothes or appearance. It wasn’t always easy to provide shoes and
appropriate clothing for five children. She had a great eye for color and
spent hours helping me redesign Goodwill Store finds. Mom taught me to
take care with my appearance. Although I don’t care what other people look like,
I feel more confident when I know I am attractively
dressed.<o:p></o:p></FONT></SPAN></P>
<P style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify; TEXT-INDENT: 0.5in; MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in"
class=MsoNormal><SPAN style="COLOR: black; FONT-SIZE: 12pt"><o:p><FONT
face="Times New Roman"> </FONT></o:p></SPAN></P>
<P style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify; TEXT-INDENT: 0.5in; MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in"
class=MsoNormal><SPAN style="COLOR: black; FONT-SIZE: 12pt"><FONT
face="Times New Roman">
At five foot three inches tall and weighing one hundred and ten pounds, I was
petite. The mini skirts I wore were longer on me than they were on taller
girls. In high school I easily passed the skirt length tests our physical
education teacher imposed. She made the class kneel on the floor and used
a ruler to check skirt lengths. Any girl wearing a skirt more than six
inches above the floor was automatically sent to detention after school.
My stepfather joked that mini skirts were invented so girls could run fast and
that because they wore them, girls needed to run faster. When I left for
college, I only owned one pair of jeans and one pair of tennis shoes that I had
used for gym class. Curt said I made him feel like a bum whenever we went
out because I always matched from head to toe. I borrowed a cambric work
shirt, put my hair in pigtails and donned my one pair of jeans and gym shoes to
meet him for a movie and he still thought I looked like a fashion plate because
I had tied my pigtails with blue ribbons to match my shirt.
<o:p></o:p></FONT></SPAN></P>
<P style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify; TEXT-INDENT: 0.5in; MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in"
class=MsoNormal><U><SPAN style="COLOR: black; FONT-SIZE: 12pt"><FONT
face="Times New Roman">A lot of this is girl technology, but even though I don’t
know what a French knot is, I still get the
picture.<o:p></o:p></FONT></SPAN></U></P>
<P style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify; TEXT-INDENT: 0.5in; MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in"
class=MsoNormal><U><SPAN style="COLOR: black; FONT-SIZE: 12pt"><o:p><SPAN
style="TEXT-DECORATION: none"><FONT
face="Times New Roman"> </FONT></SPAN></o:p></SPAN></U></P>
<P style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify; MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in" class=MsoNormal><SPAN
style="COLOR: black; FONT-SIZE: 12pt"><o:p><FONT
face="Times New Roman"> </FONT></o:p></SPAN></P>
<P style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify; TEXT-INDENT: 0.5in; MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in"
class=MsoNormal><SPAN style="COLOR: black; FONT-SIZE: 12pt"><FONT
face="Times New Roman">Because my brothers and stepfather were tall and had long
legs, I had gotten into the habit of wearing heels ranging from two to three
inches high. I had dozens of pairs of wild shoes. My favorite shoe
store used my size in its window displays. After they were taken from the
windows, the store often put them on sale for just a couple of dollars. So
I left for college with chartreuse suede ankle boots, red high-heeled alligator
boots, baby blue Cuban heels and a lot of other exotic footwear.
They weren’t very practical for trudging across a rural campus. Although I could
even run in heels, I found that they gave very poor footing on slick surfaces
like icy sidewalks and rain slick steps. If I needed to do a leash
correction, I had to have a solid stance.
<o:p></o:p></FONT></SPAN></P>
<P style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify; TEXT-INDENT: 0.5in; MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in"
class=MsoNormal><SPAN style="COLOR: black; FONT-SIZE: 12pt"><o:p><FONT
face="Times New Roman"> </FONT></o:p></SPAN></P>
<P style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify; TEXT-INDENT: 0.5in; MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in"
class=MsoNormal><SPAN style="COLOR: black; FONT-SIZE: 12pt"><FONT
face="Times New Roman">
So, with Tammy in my life it was time to rethink my wardrobe. Heels and
platform shoes were out. Boots had to have a good nonskid sole and be
chosen for protection from mud, snow and rainwater. Running shoes were
good choices for walking miles and looked okay with jeans. Skirts needed
to be ankle length because they were easier to keep ladylike, while bending to
harness a dog, clean up after her and sit on floors with her. They also
worked better for climbing up into high vehicles like buses or pickup
trucks. Black skirts and slacks didn’t show black dog hairs left behind by
a wagging tail or <st1:place w:st="on">Labrador</st1:place> sides and shoulders
as my girl guided or just leaned against me. I could still wear bright
colored blouses and shirts but black wool coats and jackets were good choices if
I didn’t want to be running up large dry cleaning bills.
<o:p></o:p></FONT></SPAN></P>
<P style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify; TEXT-INDENT: 0.5in; MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in"
class=MsoNormal><SPAN style="COLOR: black; FONT-SIZE: 12pt"><o:p><FONT
face="Times New Roman"> </FONT></o:p></SPAN></P>
<P style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify; TEXT-INDENT: 0.5in; MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in"
class=MsoNormal><SPAN style="COLOR: black; FONT-SIZE: 12pt"><FONT
face="Times New Roman">
Many people who are born blind forget that others can see them. In a
sighted world, it is very important to take special care with your
appearance. People are much more likely to approach in a friendly or
helpful manner, someone who is clean and attractively dressed. Whether you
are going for a job interview, looking for a sales clerk’s assistance or just
striking up a casual conversation at a meeting or event, it is important to make
a good impression. Having Tammy in my life meant resorting to a lint brush
or roller as just one more step to preparing for going out into the sighted
community. <o:p></o:p></FONT></SPAN></P>
<P style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify; TEXT-INDENT: 0.5in; MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in"
class=MsoNormal><SPAN style="COLOR: black; FONT-SIZE: 12pt"><o:p><FONT
face="Times New Roman"> </FONT></o:p></SPAN></P>
<P style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify; TEXT-INDENT: 0.5in; MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in"
class=MsoNormal><SPAN style="COLOR: black; FONT-SIZE: 12pt"><FONT
face="Times New Roman">
Tammy loved her grooming time. I can’t say she appreciated my need to
vacuum more often because of her presence in my life. She hated the noise
of the machine. Perhaps she thought that the vacuum cleaner might start
with the dog hair and develop a taste for the flavor and a desire to consume the
whole dog. <o:p></o:p></FONT></SPAN></P>
<P style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify; TEXT-INDENT: 0.5in; MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in"
class=MsoNormal><U><SPAN style="COLOR: black; FONT-SIZE: 12pt"><FONT
face="Times New Roman">I love the joke.<o:p></o:p></FONT></SPAN></U></P>
<P style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify; TEXT-INDENT: 0.5in; MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in"
class=MsoNormal><SPAN style="COLOR: black; FONT-SIZE: 12pt"><FONT
face="Times New Roman">Whatever the reason, my fearless protector in traffic and
dicey situations scrambled to remove herself from any proximity to that dreaded
mechanism. She almost fell out a window when she jumped to the bed and
pressed against the screen over an open window to escape her nemesis. If
anyone were vacuuming a public building, she always cut a wide berth around the
infernal machine. Attempts to allow her to sniff the vacuum when it was
turned off never completely convinced her they weren’t dangerous.
<o:p></o:p></FONT></SPAN></P>
<P style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify; MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in"
class=MsoNormal><B><U><SPAN style="COLOR: black; FONT-SIZE: 12pt"><FONT
face="Times New Roman">Sensible girl<o:p></o:p></FONT></SPAN></U></B></P>
<P style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in" class=MsoNormal><B><SPAN
style="COLOR: black"><o:p><FONT
face="Times New Roman"> </FONT></o:p></SPAN></B></P>
<P style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in" class=MsoNormal
align=center><SPAN style="COLOR: black; FONT-SIZE: 12pt"><o:p><FONT
face="Times New Roman"> </FONT></o:p></SPAN></P>
<P style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class=MsoNormal><U><SPAN
style="FONT-FAMILY: Calibri; COLOR: black; FONT-SIZE: 11pt">Cleora
<o:p></o:p></SPAN></U></P>
<P style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class=MsoNormal><U><SPAN
style="FONT-FAMILY: Calibri; COLOR: black; FONT-SIZE: 11pt"><o:p><SPAN
style="TEXT-DECORATION: none"> </SPAN></o:p></SPAN></U></P>
<P style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class=MsoNormal><U><SPAN
style="FONT-FAMILY: Arial; COLOR: black">The story was valid, but invalid. Some
of the engineering and scientific assumptions are seriously flawed. Thus the
plot does not hold together. Parts of the circumstances were murky, needing
further clarification.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </SPAN>It
could be turned into a good story if instead of using a prototype futuristic
electric car, you changed it into a mini car or an underpowered vintage Volks
Wagon micro bus. Or a Fiat Bianchina.<o:p></o:p></SPAN></U></P>
<P style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class=MsoNormal><SPAN
style="FONT-FAMILY: Arial; COLOR: black"><o:p> </o:p></SPAN></P>
<P style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class=MsoNormal><SPAN
style="FONT-FAMILY: Arial; COLOR: black">1452 words<BR>Go Greenish<BR>by C. S.
Boyd<BR><BR>Sprinkles of rain dotted the windshield of the electric car as Jake
backed out of the driveway. He considered taking the old reliable gas powered
machine instead. Glancing at the battery indicator, he saw that the battery had
charged some before the clouds had blocked the sun, and decided to go ahead.
It's just a short trip, there should be enough power in the battery. Even in the
rain, the wind turbine should pick up enough wind in the stop and go traffic of
city driving to put energy back into the battery. It would be a good test of the
prototype's design. He straightened up on the road and headed for the post
office.<BR>The light at the intersection turned red just seconds before he
arrived. Now, the rain was coming down in sheets. He could hear the little wind
turbine whine periodically as gusts of wind buffeted the little vehicle. Each
time the energy gage moved up a little as electricity was pumped into the
battery. <BR>He saw the amber light for the other side come on and pressed down
firmly on the accelerator <o:p></o:p></SPAN></P>
<P style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class=MsoNormal><U><SPAN
style="FONT-FAMILY: Arial; COLOR: black">Are you sure one can see the light
which would be at right angles to the viewer?<o:p></o:p></SPAN></U></P>
<P style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class=MsoNormal><U><SPAN
style="FONT-FAMILY: Arial; COLOR: black"><o:p><SPAN
style="TEXT-DECORATION: none"> </SPAN></o:p></SPAN></U></P>
<P style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class=MsoNormal><SPAN
style="FONT-FAMILY: Arial; COLOR: black">pedal as soon as the light changed. He
started forward slowly. With luck it would pick up enough speed to make it
through the light before it changed<o:p></o:p></SPAN></P>
<P style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class=MsoNormal><U><SPAN
style="FONT-FAMILY: Arial; COLOR: black">Electric cars are faster than internal
combustion cars in acceleration. Besides,<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes">
</SPAN>I have the impression that the light just turned green. Why would it
change again so quickly, unless this was city traffic and there was a long line
of traffic in front of him. If there was a long line, you need to tell the
reader that.<o:p></o:p></SPAN></U></P>
<P style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class=MsoNormal><U><SPAN
style="FONT-FAMILY: Arial; COLOR: black"><o:p><SPAN
style="TEXT-DECORATION: none"> </SPAN></o:p></SPAN></U></P>
<P style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class=MsoNormal><SPAN
style="FONT-FAMILY: Arial; COLOR: black">. He could already hear the gas
guzzlers behind him honking.<BR>What had he been thinking? Traffic would be
heavy at this time of day and his slow starts would anger drivers in a hurry to
get wherever they were going. Take the electric. Do the energy responsible
thing. Do the planet a favor, he thought bitterly. Right, and screw yourself.
<BR>Then he heard a thump and felt a little jolt. "What tha...?" He looked in
his rear view mirror. All he could see was grill. He began to pick up speed as
the vehicle behind him shifted to the next gear and continued pushing him along.
His eyes forward, all he could do was steer. He was turning left in a lane that
could turn or go straight. Maybe the truck was going straight and would go on as
soon as he was out of the way. But, that wasn't in the cards. The little engine
whirred bravely, but was unable to pull away from the deasil engine behind him
that was continuing to pick up speed and push him faster and faster in front of
it. Panic surged through him. He knew there was no point in trying to break.
That brute probably wouldn't even notice. It might even just roll over him like
he was a speed bump. <BR>He had used the electric because it was a very short
trip. Just down the street and around the corner to the post office. He would
need to slow down and turn in the drive way to the parking lot. There was
no way he could make the turn at this speed and the truck was continuing to push
him ahead of it faster and faster.<BR>He could see the turn in coming up and to
further complicate things, the light at the corner was red and a steady stream
of cars was crossing in front of him<o:p></o:p></SPAN></P>
<P style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class=MsoNormal><U><SPAN
style="FONT-FAMILY: Arial; COLOR: black">I don’t get the picture. How was a
steady stream of cars crossing in front of him? are you talking about a cross
section that he is headed toward?<o:p></o:p></SPAN></U></P>
<P style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class=MsoNormal><U><SPAN
style="FONT-FAMILY: Arial; COLOR: black"><o:p><SPAN
style="TEXT-DECORATION: none"> </SPAN></o:p></SPAN></U></P>
<P style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class=MsoNormal><SPAN
style="FONT-FAMILY: Arial; COLOR: black"><BR>A blast from the truck horn almost
made him wet himself. The horn sounded again. Clearly the driver had no
intention of stopping or even slowing down. Jake closed his eyes and prepared to
meet his maker. Seconds passed, but the expected crash didn’t happen. He opened
his eyes. He was through the light <o:p></o:p></SPAN></P>
<P style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class=MsoNormal><U><SPAN
style="FONT-FAMILY: Arial; COLOR: black">Is this a second light or the first
light?<o:p></o:p></SPAN></U></P>
<P style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class=MsoNormal><U><SPAN
style="FONT-FAMILY: Arial; COLOR: black"><o:p><SPAN
style="TEXT-DECORATION: none"> </SPAN></o:p></SPAN></U></P>
<P style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class=MsoNormal><SPAN
style="FONT-FAMILY: Arial; COLOR: black">and veering a little to the right. He
corrected his trajectory just in time to avoid hitting the curb along the side
of the street. He glanced down at the dash. They were going 50 mph. He
looked up and began to concentrate on steering while he wondered what to do
next.<BR>One good thing, At this speed the wind was spinning the turbine at top
speed. He eased his foot off the accelerator. Since he was being pushed along,
the little engine was not using power and the energy generated by the turbine
was going into the battery. Luckily the upcoming lights turned green just in
time. It was clear that the truck driver had no intention of stopping for
anything. Soon they came to the long stretch of this road that had no lights.
The speed here was 50mph. He looked down at the dash, they were going 70. Jake
felt a new fear. He had never been a person who drove fast. He always obeyed the
speed limit and it had been decades since the speed limit had been 70.
Would the car even hold together at this speed. Typically it never got over
28mph.<o:p></o:p></SPAN></P>
<P style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class=MsoNormal><U><SPAN
style="FONT-FAMILY: Arial; COLOR: black">The upper speed limit of electric cars
is just a great as internal<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes">
</SPAN>combustion cars. <o:p></o:p></SPAN></U></P>
<P style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class=MsoNormal><SPAN
style="FONT-FAMILY: Arial; COLOR: black"><BR>Time passed and he concentrated on
steering while desperately trying to figure out what to do.<BR>This road, he
knew, intersected with an eight lane interstate. Was this guy going to plow
through that like he had the others? As they approached the light, an idea came
to him. Maybe he could just slide into the right turn lane allowing the truck to
go on by, and this nightmare would be over. As he began his plan, he heard the
truck start to gear down and they began slowing, and the truck continuing to
stay on his bumper turned into the right turn lane right behind him.
<o:p></o:p></SPAN></P>
<P style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class=MsoNormal><U><SPAN
style="FONT-FAMILY: Arial; COLOR: black">What kind of road is he turning on o?
Is it the highway?<o:p></o:p></SPAN></U></P>
<P style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class=MsoNormal><SPAN
style="FONT-FAMILY: Arial; COLOR: black"><BR>Jake looked in the rear view mirror
at the ominous grill. What is it with this guy? Is he some kind of homicidal
maniac?<BR>He was committed now, though. The turn was coming up and he cruised
around the corner much faster than he liked but still on all four wheels. The
grill followed and he felt a bump as the huge bumper made contact
again.<BR><U>How big is this vehicle? Is it huge like a 16 wheeler? If it is
not, why didn’t Jake<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </SPAN>resist with
his breaks<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </SPAN>and force them both to a
stop? If it was huge, I question that it would have been ab le to turn as
quickly as a smaller vehicle. It’s a matter of
inertia.<o:p></o:p></U></SPAN></P>
<P style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class=MsoNormal><U><SPAN
style="FONT-FAMILY: Arial; COLOR: black"><o:p><SPAN
style="TEXT-DECORATION: none"> </SPAN></o:p></SPAN></U></P>
<P style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class=MsoNormal><U><SPAN
style="FONT-FAMILY: Arial; COLOR: black"><SPAN
style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </SPAN>he</SPAN></U><SPAN
style="FONT-FAMILY: Arial; COLOR: black"> driver geared up again increasing
speed and soon they were again rocketing down the road <o:p></o:p></SPAN></P>
<P style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class=MsoNormal><SPAN
style="FONT-FAMILY: Arial; COLOR: black">at break neck
speed.<o:p></o:p></SPAN></P>
<P style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class=MsoNormal><U><SPAN
style="FONT-FAMILY: Arial; COLOR: black">Because of the superior acceleration
ability of an electric car, Jake cold have simply accelerated away from the
other vehicle and outmaneuvered it. Ofcourse if it was a souped up sports car,
that plan wouldn’t apply.<o:p></o:p></SPAN></U></P>
<P style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class=MsoNormal><SPAN
style="FONT-FAMILY: Arial; COLOR: black"><BR>Jake had visions of himself and his
crumpled car being found in some farmer's back pasture. <BR>A green sign on the
right read "Southside Memorial Hospital 1 mile." He remembered that drive way.
It was wide and with luck he could turn into it even at high speed. He might
turn over but anything was better than the suicide trip he was on now.<BR>He got
ready, rehearsing in his mind how he was going to pull this off. Then, the truck
began to gear down again. They were slowing. The driveway came up quickly and
Jake jerked the wheel to the right turning into the hospital parking lot. The
truck followed. <o:p></o:p></SPAN></P>
<P style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class=MsoNormal><U><SPAN
style="FONT-FAMILY: Arial; COLOR: black">I’m assuming that when the truck geared
down, contact with the bumpers was lost so that Jake could turn. If the contact
were not broken, Jake could not have made the turn. His car would probably have
flipped.<o:p></o:p></SPAN></U></P>
<P style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class=MsoNormal><U><SPAN
style="FONT-FAMILY: Arial; COLOR: black"><o:p><SPAN
style="TEXT-DECORATION: none"> </SPAN></o:p></SPAN></U></P>
<P style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class=MsoNormal><SPAN
style="FONT-FAMILY: Arial; COLOR: black">Jake went straight ahead but the truck
made a dangerously sharper turn heading down the gentle slope to the
emergency room entrance.<BR>Breathing hard, Jake continued on into the parking
lot. He steered around and came to a rest in a parking place a few feet from the
emergency room entrance. He could see the truck still parked in its driveway. A
burly man was just coming around the truck. Seeing Jake, he started toward
him.<BR>Jakes blood froze in his veins.<BR>Coming up to the car, the man tapped
on Jakes driver side window.<BR>Jake rolled down the window a little. <BR>"It's
my mother-in-law," he said. Reaching in his pocket, he pulled out his wallet and
took a business card out of it. He scribbled some information on the back and
handed it to Jake. "sorry about the -- well, you know. I noted your license
plate before and was planning to send you insurance information, but since you
are here, I'll just hand it to you. All the information is on the card. Have a
good one." he saluted Jake and was gone.<BR>Jake looked at the card. "Henry
Gates, Tri-State Trucking 555-7200" Jakes mouth dropped open. He looked up to
see the man hoist himself up into the cab and drive away. He turned the card
over. All the information he needed to file a claim was on the back. <BR>At home
Jake pulled into the garage and went around to assess the damage. It wasn't too
bad. The bumper on the truck had been higher so the back was pushed in and he
would never be able to open the trunk until it was fixed, but Henry Gates --
WOW! He grinned and chuckled to himself. He had been pushed around by one of the
richest men in the country. He wondered if Gates always drove his
trucks.<BR>"What's with you? And where have you been? I thought you were just
going down to the post office." Then she saw the damaged rear end. "Are
you okay?"<BR>Jake turned around to face his wife. "You are never going to
believe what happened," he said. <BR><BR><U>I don’t get it. There is no motive
here.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </SPAN>I think his mother-in-law
needed to go to the hospital emergency ward, but what has that got to do with
pushing a little car around? that would only make him go slower. Besides Gates
had the time to give out his card and give an explanation of some kind for his
behavior. He did this rather than getting his Mother-in-law into the
hospital.</U><BR><BR>_______________________________________________<BR
style="mso-special-character: line-break"><BR
style="mso-special-character: line-break"><o:p></o:p></SPAN></P>
<P style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class=MsoNormal><SPAN
style="FONT-FAMILY: Arial; COLOR: black"><o:p> </o:p></SPAN></P>
<P style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class=MsoNormal><SPAN
style="FONT-FAMILY: Arial; COLOR: black">Salley<o:p></o:p></SPAN></P>
<P style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class=MsoNormal><SPAN
style="FONT-FAMILY: Arial; COLOR: black"><o:p> </o:p></SPAN></P>
<P style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class=MsoNormal><U><FONT
face="Times New Roman">This introduction certainly holds my interest and makes
me want to read the book, so mission accomplished.<SPAN
style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </SPAN>I’m curious as to how much of the story
will be about you and how much about<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes">
</SPAN>your guide dogs. <o:p></o:p></FONT></U></P>
<P style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class=MsoNormal><o:p><FONT
face="Times New Roman"> </FONT></o:p></P>
<P style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class=MsoNormal><o:p><FONT
face="Times New Roman"> </FONT></o:p></P>
<P style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class=MsoNormal><o:p><FONT
face="Times New Roman"> </FONT></o:p></P>
<P style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class=MsoNormal><FONT
face="Times New Roman">Loving Laurence: A Year Of Growing Older With A Guide Dog
By My Side</FONT></P>
<P style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class=MsoNormal><o:p><FONT
face="Times New Roman"> </FONT></o:p></P>
<P style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class=MsoNormal><FONT face="Times New Roman">By
Sally Rosenthal</FONT></P>
<P style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class=MsoNormal><o:p><FONT
face="Times New Roman"> </FONT></o:p></P>
<P style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class=MsoNormal><FONT
face="Times New Roman">Dedication: To Laurence and to <st1:place
w:st="on"><st1:City w:st="on">Boise</st1:City></st1:place> and Greta who paved
the way</FONT></P>
<P style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class=MsoNormal><FONT
face="Times New Roman">INTRODUCTION</FONT></P>
<P style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class=MsoNormal><o:p><FONT
face="Times New Roman"> </FONT></o:p></P>
<P style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class=MsoNormal><o:p><FONT
face="Times New Roman"> </FONT></o:p></P>
<P style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class=MsoNormal><FONT
face="Times New Roman">During the two decades my vision slipped away, a dog kept
me company. Not just an ordinary dog, you understand. A life-long dog lover, my
world had always been filled with mutts and rescued dogs. No, when I began
losing my sight in my late twenties from complications of retinopathy of
prematurity, the dog I could almost touch by my side was a guide dog.</FONT></P>
<P style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class=MsoNormal><U><FONT
face="Times New Roman">almost touch by my side is a little confusing.After I
thought about it for a while, I thought<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes">
</SPAN>you meant that he was a tall dog. Of course, the next paragraph explains
your meaning. Consider using a phrase like, “longed to<SPAN
style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </SPAN>touch. <o:p></o:p></FONT></U></P>
<P style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class=MsoNormal><o:p><FONT
face="Times New Roman"> </FONT></o:p></P>
<P style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class=MsoNormal><o:p><FONT
face="Times New Roman"> </FONT></o:p></P>
<P style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class=MsoNormal><FONT face="Times New Roman">As
scary as becoming blind was to this single college librarian whose life revolved
around the printed word and living alone, I found comfort in knowing that guide
dogs made life much easier for their blind handlers. As a child and an adult, I
was drawn to books about guide dogs and had been fascinated by watching the few
guide dog teams I had seen. Their bond seemed so close, and the interaction
between canine and human appeared<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes">
</SPAN>almost magical to me. When I felt sad or began to panic at the thought of
how probable blindness would negatively impact my life, the mythical guide dog
inched a little closer to me, <U>offering comfort</U><SPAN
style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </SPAN>and, if truth be told filling me
</FONT></P>
<P style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class=MsoNormal><FONT face="Times New Roman">with
anticipation.</FONT></P>
<P style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class=MsoNormal><U><FONT
face="Times New Roman">You use the term ‘probable blindness.’ Does this
mean<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </SPAN>you had hopes<SPAN
style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </SPAN>of keeping your
sight?<o:p></o:p></FONT></U></P>
<P style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class=MsoNormal><o:p><FONT
face="Times New Roman"> </FONT></o:p></P>
<P style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class=MsoNormal><U><FONT
face="Times New Roman">‘With’ should not be capitalized<SPAN
style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </SPAN>with
anticipation)<o:p></o:p></FONT></U></P>
<P style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class=MsoNormal><o:p><FONT
face="Times New Roman"> </FONT></o:p></P>
<P style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class=MsoNormal><o:p><FONT
face="Times New Roman"> </FONT></o:p></P>
<P style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class=MsoNormal><FONT face="Times New Roman">What
I didn’t know at the time was that an individual need not be totally blind in
order to benefit from the help of a guide dog. In fact, the majority of visually
impaired people who rely on the assistance of dogs have some amount of residual
vision, however small. Although I didn’t obtain my first guide dog, <st1:City
w:st="on">Boise</st1:City>, from the special needs program of Guiding Eyes for
the Blind until 2003 when I had lost all light perception, My deteriorating
vision would have qualified me as a guide dog handler long before <st1:place
w:st="on"><st1:City w:st="on">Boise</st1:City></st1:place> entered my home and
heart.</FONT></P>
<P style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class=MsoNormal><o:p><FONT
face="Times New Roman"> </FONT></o:p></P>
<P style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class=MsoNormal><o:p><FONT
face="Times New Roman"> </FONT></o:p></P>
<P style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class=MsoNormal><FONT
face="Times New Roman">However, another fact about guide dogs and the schools
that trained them and their human partners became evident as I began researching
the possibility of applying. Most programs, at that time, did not accept
applicants with significant physical disabilities in addition to vision loss.
Born three and a half months prematurely in 1952 and weighing a not-so-hefty one
pound, thirteen ounces, I was the first preemie whose life was saved by the new
incubator in my small town hospital. Unlike most infants in the same situation,
I did not become blind by the oxygen flow in the incubators of the day. At the
age of three months, I reached five pounds, and my much-relieved parents
prepared for my homecoming. The day before my intended discharge, a young
assistant pediatrician, without his superiors’ knowledge, decided I needed one
final blood transfusion before going home. He left me alone during the
transfusion, and, upon returning to the room, found a scarcely alive blue baby.
My parents were advised to institutionalize me since, having sustained
significant brain damage similar to a stroke, I would no doubt be, in the less
than politically correct description of the early 1950s, “a vegetable.”
Fortunately, my parents were up for a challenge. A paratrooper who survived the
<st1:place w:st="on"><st1:State w:st="on">Normandy</st1:State></st1:place>
landing on D-Day, my father married an English woman who had lived through years
of bombings and deprivation during World War II. . Knowing that life was not
always fair or easy, Bill and Kay Bennett bundled their daughter into blankets
and took her home to watch her grow. </FONT></P>
<P style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class=MsoNormal><o:p><FONT
face="Times New Roman"> </FONT></o:p></P>
<P style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class=MsoNormal><o:p><FONT
face="Times New Roman"> </FONT></o:p></P>
<P style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class=MsoNormal><FONT
face="Times New Roman">While my childhood consisted of many orthopedic and eye
surgeries and I never did get to trade my braces and heavy orthopedic saddle
shoes for much-longed-for patent leather mary janes, I attended public school
and went on to obtain a graduate degree in library science and, later as my
vision worsened, a degree in occupational therapy.<SPAN
style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </SPAN>It was while working as a college
librarian that my retinas hemorrhaged, and I found myself diagnosed with
delayed-onset retinopathy of prematurity. More retina damage, cataracts, and
uncontrollable glaucoma followed as did almost twenty surgeries before I thought
seriously of a guide dog.</FONT></P>
<P style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class=MsoNormal><U><FONT
face="Times New Roman">Wow!<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </SPAN>You
define the word “overcoming.”<o:p></o:p></FONT></U></P>
<P style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class=MsoNormal><o:p><FONT
face="Times New Roman"> </FONT></o:p></P>
<P style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class=MsoNormal><FONT face="Times New Roman">I
discovered that Guiding Eyes for the Blind in <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:City
w:st="on"><st1:City w:st="on">Yorktown Heights</st1:City>, <st1:State
w:st="on">New York</st1:State></st1:City></st1:place> had a special needs
program designed to train visually-impaired people who also had physical
disabilities to become guide dog handlers. Even better, the administration
allowed home training, a necessity in my case since I couldn’t leave Sandy, my
paralyzed polio survivor husband, alone while I went to the Yorktown Heights
campus for training. As I mentioned, <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:City
w:st="on">Boise</st1:City></st1:place> arrived in 2003; she retired for medical
reasons in 2006 and spent the rest of her life with her puppyraisers, Judy and
Skip Franz who became close friends. In 2007, Greta came to be my second dog and
retired in 2014. Laurence, the main subject of this book, arrived in 2015 just a
few months before my sixty-third birthday.<SPAN
style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </SPAN></FONT></P>
<P style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class=MsoNormal><o:p><FONT
face="Times New Roman"> </FONT></o:p></P>
<P style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class=MsoNormal><o:p><FONT
face="Times New Roman"> </FONT></o:p></P>
<P style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class=MsoNormal><FONT face="Times New Roman">With
<st1:place w:st="on"><st1:City w:st="on">Boise</st1:City></st1:place> and Greta,
my life was active. I was in my fifties, and my husband had recently left his
law practice due to the increasing pain and functional losses of post-polio
syndrome. Still, we ran daily errands,were active in our church, and had a
fairly busy social life. We were hospice volunteers for several years with Greta
and <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:City w:st="on">Sandy</st1:City></st1:place>’s
service dog Pumpkin and had volunteered with all three dogs for a local pet
therapy organization.</FONT></P>
<P style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class=MsoNormal><o:p><FONT
face="Times New Roman"> </FONT></o:p></P>
<P style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class=MsoNormal><o:p><FONT
face="Times New Roman"> </FONT></o:p></P>
<P style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class=MsoNormal><FONT face="Times New Roman">As
the saying goes, that was then and this is now. Over the last few years, my life
has become significantly harder physically. I have lost fifty percent of my
hearing in both ears due to age-related genetic hearing loss. Along with
developing lymphedema from cumulative effects of surgeries and physical trauma,
osteoarthritis seemed to creep into every bone of my body along with
osteoporosis. Tasks I had taken for granted became more difficult and required
more energy than I had some days. The combination of blindness and significant
hearing loss often left me disoriented in travelling and conversation; the lack
of incoming stimulation along with using more energy trying to decipher my
environment and what was happening around me left me drained. When Laurence came
into my life, I began using a support cane to increase my balance and decrease
the falls that had started to occur far more frequently. <st1:place
w:st="on"><st1:City w:st="on">Sandy</st1:City></st1:place>, meanwhile, had
problems of his own with severe chronic pain, extreme fatigue, depression, and
cognitive changes. At sixty, I had weathered changes most of my peers wouldn’t
have to cope with for decades. In addition, <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:City
w:st="on">Sandy</st1:City></st1:place> needed more help than I could offer, so
we began hiring home health aides to assist in bathing and dressing.</FONT></P>
<P style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class=MsoNormal><o:p><FONT
face="Times New Roman"> </FONT></o:p></P>
<P style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class=MsoNormal><o:p><FONT
face="Times New Roman"> </FONT></o:p></P>
<P style="MARGIN: 12pt 0in 0pt" class=MsoNormal><FONT
face="Times New Roman">Eventually, we felt we needed the safety and support of
living in a retirement community rather than alone in our condominium. In
January 2013, we moved into an independent living apartment of a nearby
retirement community. I have always been one for looking back and noticing
<U>(the changes)</U> and looking ahead to the challenges in store. As I get
older, I find it hard to believe we have lost so much physically; the changes
seemed to have occurred overnight. However, in most cases, our lives changed
slowly until it was impossible not to notice the losses. That made the abilities
and skills we still have even more necessary and precious, even as we know that
these, too, will change over time.</FONT></P>
<P style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class=MsoNormal><o:p><FONT
face="Times New Roman"> </FONT></o:p></P>
<P style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class=MsoNormal><o:p><FONT
face="Times New Roman"> </FONT></o:p></P>
<P style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class=MsoNormal><FONT
face="Times New Roman">These changes and how we meet or fall short of the
challenges they present as aging occurs are what I hope to chronicle in this
memoir. Laurence makes my life easier, safer, and more connected to people, even
if our work together isn’t quite the same as was my work with <st1:place
w:st="on"><st1:City w:st="on">Boise</st1:City></st1:place> and Greta. Still, he
is invaluable to me on many levels.</FONT></P>
<P style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class=MsoNormal><o:p><FONT
face="Times New Roman"> </FONT></o:p></P>
<P style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class=MsoNormal><o:p><FONT
face="Times New Roman"> </FONT></o:p></P>
<P style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class=MsoNormal><FONT face="Times New Roman">I
have chosen a journal format for this book for a few reasons. I have always
loved reading journals and reveling in the minutiae of others’ everyday life. I
also feel that a journal forces me to face or muse about aging and all that it
encompasses in the here and now rather than through the selective focus of
memory. Finally, I hope readers will come along for the journey and find that
Laurence and I, despite some significant obstacles, manage to travel with
purpose, determination, and even joy. If you are someone who is losing vision,
caring for a loved one who is, or simply interested in how we are more alike
than different in our aging challenges, I hope </FONT><A name=_GoBack></A><FONT
face="Times New Roman">this memoir provides some answers, hope, anda little
laughter.</FONT></P>
<P style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class=MsoNormal><o:p><FONT
face="Times New Roman"> </FONT></o:p></P>
<DIV
style="BORDER-BOTTOM: windowtext 1pt solid; BORDER-LEFT: medium none; PADDING-BOTTOM: 1pt; PADDING-LEFT: 0in; PADDING-RIGHT: 0in; BORDER-TOP: medium none; BORDER-RIGHT: medium none; PADDING-TOP: 0in; mso-element: para-border-div; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt">
<P
style="BORDER-BOTTOM: medium none; BORDER-LEFT: medium none; PADDING-BOTTOM: 0in; MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; PADDING-LEFT: 0in; PADDING-RIGHT: 0in; BORDER-TOP: medium none; BORDER-RIGHT: medium none; PADDING-TOP: 0in; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt; mso-padding-alt: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in"
class=MsoNormal><U><FONT face="Times New Roman">I’m not sure how the journaling
process <SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </SPAN>is intended to work in this
book. Have you kept a journal or diary to which you can refer and thus not be
reliant totally on memory; or do you intend for the book to give that
impression? In other words, are you talking about
style?<o:p></o:p></FONT></U></P></DIV>
<P style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class=MsoNormal><SPAN
style="FONT-FAMILY: Arial; COLOR: black"><o:p> </o:p></SPAN></P>
<P style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class=MsoNormal><SPAN
style="FONT-FAMILY: Arial; COLOR: black">Martia<o:p></o:p></SPAN></P>
<P style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class=MsoNormal><SPAN
style="FONT-FAMILY: Arial; COLOR: black"><o:p> </o:p></SPAN></P>
<P style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class=MsoNormal><U><SPAN
style="COLOR: black"><FONT face="Times New Roman">I loved this piece. Evven
though, I knew you were going to survive, the story was extremely exciting. The
progression of events was well metered and excellently described. The inner
experiences and the outer experiences were woven toether in a very satisfying
way. <o:p></o:p></FONT></SPAN></U></P>
<P style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class=MsoNormal><U><SPAN
style="COLOR: black"><o:p><SPAN style="TEXT-DECORATION: none"><FONT
face="Times New Roman"> </FONT></SPAN></o:p></SPAN></U></P>
<P style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class=MsoNormal><U><SPAN
style="COLOR: black"><FONT face="Times New Roman">You wouldn’t find me jumping
out of a perfectly good aairplane with or lwithout a parachute. If I knew I was
dreaming and that I’d wake up and find that Hillary had won, I’d think about it.
<o:p></o:p></FONT></SPAN></U></P>
<P style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class=MsoNormal><U><SPAN
style="COLOR: black"><o:p><SPAN style="TEXT-DECORATION: none"><FONT
face="Times New Roman"> </FONT></SPAN></o:p></SPAN></U></P>
<P style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class=MsoNormal><U><SPAN
style="COLOR: black"><FONT face="Times New Roman">I’d like a little more detail
about the landing. Do lyou get disconnected from your guide at the landing? If
not, how does he not land on you?<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes">
</SPAN>You say that you saw your family and terrain details while landing. the
language seems to be saying that in the mids of all that hopping, jumping and
what not, you were also observing these details. Don’t you mean just before you
landed?<o:p></o:p></FONT></SPAN></U></P>
<P style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class=MsoNormal><SPAN
style="COLOR: black"><o:p><FONT
face="Times New Roman"> </FONT></o:p></SPAN></P>
<P style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class=MsoNormal><SPAN style="COLOR: black"><FONT
face="Times New Roman">Age Before Beauty<o:p></o:p></FONT></SPAN></P>
<P style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class=MsoNormal><SPAN style="COLOR: black"><FONT
face="Times New Roman">Marcia J. Wick, The Write
Sisters<o:p></o:p></FONT></SPAN></P>
<P style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class=MsoNormal><SPAN style="COLOR: black"><FONT
face="Times New Roman">Copyright October 2017<o:p></o:p></FONT></SPAN></P>
<P style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class=MsoNormal><SPAN style="COLOR: black"><FONT
face="Times New Roman">Word Count: 1068<o:p></o:p></FONT></SPAN></P>
<P style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class=MsoNormal><SPAN
style="COLOR: black"><o:p><FONT
face="Times New Roman"> </FONT></o:p></SPAN></P>
<P style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class=MsoNormal><SPAN
style="COLOR: black"><o:p><FONT
face="Times New Roman"> </FONT></o:p></SPAN></P>
<P style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class=MsoNormal><SPAN style="COLOR: black"><FONT
face="Times New Roman">Dad’s 93<SUP>rd</SUP> birthday is Tuesday. We will
celebrate with his favorite pie and ice cream, although he won’t remember our
party the next day.<o:p></o:p></FONT></SPAN></P>
<P style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class=MsoNormal><SPAN
style="COLOR: black"><o:p><FONT
face="Times New Roman"> </FONT></o:p></SPAN></P>
<P style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class=MsoNormal><SPAN style="COLOR: black"><FONT
face="Times New Roman">The anniversary reminds me of another special birthday
which Dad won’t recall. The year he turned 80, I turned 50. He and I Separately
hit on the idea of celebrating our big day by jumping out of an airplane, with a
parachute of course. When we discovered that we both had happened upon the same
adventure, we decided to do the bigg jump together.<o:p></o:p></FONT></SPAN></P>
<P style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class=MsoNormal><SPAN
style="COLOR: black"><o:p><FONT
face="Times New Roman"> </FONT></o:p></SPAN></P>
<P style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class=MsoNormal><SPAN style="COLOR: black"><FONT
face="Times New Roman">My older daughter, 16 at the time, strongly objected to
my risky endeavor. She imagined becoming an orphan on her mother’s
birthday. I presumed the tandem jumper who would be attached to my back did not
himself have a death wish, and so I put my life in a complete stranger’s hands
that day.<o:p></o:p></FONT></SPAN></P>
<P style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class=MsoNormal><SPAN
style="COLOR: black"><o:p><FONT
face="Times New Roman"> </FONT></o:p></SPAN></P>
<P style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class=MsoNormal><SPAN style="COLOR: black"><FONT
face="Times New Roman">Dad and I watched a brief instructional video, after
which we were require to place our signature on page after page, waiving our
right to return to sue or haunt anyone in the event of injury or
death.<o:p></o:p></FONT></SPAN></P>
<P style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class=MsoNormal><U><SPAN
style="COLOR: black"><FONT face="Times New Roman">I love the part about not
being allowed to haunt.<o:p></o:p></FONT></SPAN></U></P>
<P style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class=MsoNormal><SPAN
style="COLOR: black"><o:p><FONT
face="Times New Roman"> </FONT></o:p></SPAN></P>
<P style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class=MsoNormal><SPAN style="COLOR: black"><FONT
face="Times New Roman">We struggled into jumpsuits while our instructors talked
us through, step-by-step, what to expect after we departed the plane. My
instructor yanked and pulled on the straps and buckles of my harness, demanding
my full attention. The voices of family and the complaints of my daughter faded
as my jumping buddy manipulated my body, pivoting me through a practice dance on
the ground, preparing me for what to expect in the
air.<o:p></o:p></FONT></SPAN></P>
<P style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class=MsoNormal><SPAN
style="COLOR: black"><o:p><FONT
face="Times New Roman"> </FONT></o:p></SPAN></P>
<P style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class=MsoNormal><SPAN style="COLOR: black"><FONT
face="Times New Roman">He stood behind me and tugged me tight into a bear hug,
clamping my crossed arms to my chest. Next, he demonstrated the deliberate tap
on my back which would indicate the moment I should lift and spread my arms like
wings, stabilizing the tumultuous first part of the free fall. I tried to absorb
the cascade of information overflowing my limited brain bucket. I noticed my
dad’s instructor demonstrating the same gestures, explaining that it isn’t
possible to talk while free falling from 13,500 feet above sea level at 120
miles per hour.<o:p></o:p></FONT></SPAN></P>
<P style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class=MsoNormal><SPAN
style="COLOR: black"><o:p><FONT
face="Times New Roman"> </FONT></o:p></SPAN></P>
<P style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class=MsoNormal><SPAN style="COLOR: black"><FONT
face="Times New Roman">My instructor assured me that he would deploy the
parachute after a 30-second free fall, that’s about a mile of nothing but
dropping like a rock through the thin air. Once under the canopy, we would drift
gracefully above the Royal Gorge and <st1:place w:st="on">Arkansas
River</st1:place> with panoramic views of the Rocky Mountain
Range.<o:p></o:p></FONT></SPAN></P>
<P style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class=MsoNormal><SPAN
style="COLOR: black"><o:p><FONT
face="Times New Roman"> </FONT></o:p></SPAN></P>
<P style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class=MsoNormal><SPAN style="COLOR: black"><FONT
face="Times New Roman">None of this would I see, being visually impaired, nor
would I glimpse the ground coming up to greet me. The instructor assured me that
he would tell me when to tuck my knees up to my chest and be poised to spring
upon hitting the ground. The thought of terra firma suddenly seemed too solid
for comfort.<o:p></o:p></FONT></SPAN></P>
<P style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class=MsoNormal><SPAN
style="COLOR: black"><o:p><FONT
face="Times New Roman"> </FONT></o:p></SPAN></P>
<P style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class=MsoNormal><SPAN style="COLOR: black"><FONT
face="Times New Roman">Dad and I giggled and our hearts raced as we waved “so
long” to family and friends. They applauded our mutual adventure, some of my
siblings jealous that I was the one sharing this once-in -a -lifetime experience
with our dear old dad, others relieved that I was the one who had
volunteered.<o:p></o:p></FONT></SPAN></P>
<P style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class=MsoNormal><SPAN
style="COLOR: black"><o:p><FONT
face="Times New Roman"> </FONT></o:p></SPAN></P>
<P style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class=MsoNormal><SPAN style="COLOR: black"><FONT
face="Times New Roman">We were led out onto the tarmac and climbed a portable
set of stairs to discover the outside shell of the jump plane concealed an
interior stripped to the bone, barely large enough for the four of us to sit
back-to-back on the hard floor. Naturally, I had assumed the plane would have
seats, but in fact there was not even a canvas flap to close the open
doorway. Dad and I backed away from the void as engines drowned out our
voices and the ground disappeared. Shoulder to shoulder with my aging father, I
realized Things were getting serious. <o:p></o:p></FONT></SPAN></P>
<P style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class=MsoNormal><SPAN
style="COLOR: black"><o:p><FONT
face="Times New Roman"> </FONT></o:p></SPAN></P>
<P style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class=MsoNormal><SPAN style="COLOR: black"><FONT
face="Times New Roman">My instructor commanded my focus to distract me from my
heightened nervousness. Dad’s did the same. I felt my father tense as he
listened to his guide. Until then, I had imagined, like in the movies, that we
would maneuver toward the door attached to some sort of zip line while a
commander called, “Go, go, go!”<o:p></o:p></FONT></SPAN></P>
<P style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class=MsoNormal><SPAN
style="COLOR: black"><o:p><FONT
face="Times New Roman"> </FONT></o:p></SPAN></P>
<P style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class=MsoNormal><SPAN style="COLOR: black"><FONT
face="Times New Roman">As it was, our fellow jumpers pulled us in tight, our
backs to their chests, our butts between their legs; I felt oddly familiar and
trusting with my jumping partner in this intimate position, my life literally in
his arms. It was then that I realized Dad’s life was also in the care of a
complete stranger. I hoped he felt implicit trust as did
I.<o:p></o:p></FONT></SPAN></P>
<P style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class=MsoNormal><SPAN
style="COLOR: black"><o:p><FONT
face="Times New Roman"> </FONT></o:p></SPAN></P>
<P style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class=MsoNormal><SPAN style="COLOR: black"><FONT
face="Times New Roman">“Who goes first?” Dad’s fellow jumper asked. Not planned
ahead, I quipped, “Age before beauty, right Dad?”<o:p></o:p></FONT></SPAN></P>
<P style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class=MsoNormal><SPAN
style="COLOR: black"><o:p><FONT
face="Times New Roman"> </FONT></o:p></SPAN></P>
<P style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class=MsoNormal><SPAN style="COLOR: black"><FONT
face="Times New Roman">In an instant, Dad’s trainer shifted, inching up to the
yawning exit. Dad reacted, his fingers locking like a vice grip to the door
frame. The guide urged him to release his hold while prying the right hand
loose. He nudged Dad further toward the gaping passage and, before I could catch
my breath, they were gone. <o:p></o:p></FONT></SPAN></P>
<P style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class=MsoNormal><SPAN
style="COLOR: black"><o:p><FONT
face="Times New Roman"> </FONT></o:p></SPAN></P>
<P style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class=MsoNormal><SPAN style="COLOR: black"><FONT
face="Times New Roman">Whoosh, I watched my father fall out of the plane. Daddy,
come back, I cried in my mind, Meanwhile, I was unaware that my guide had
shifted and was moving me toward the expanse ahead. Blink, we were falling,
twisting, jerking, the force of the fall plastering my skin to my skull. My
mouth opened and closed, opened and closed. I wanted to scream in jubilation,
the thrill was so thrilling, but no sound came out. Time and space stood
still.<o:p></o:p></FONT></SPAN></P>
<P style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class=MsoNormal><SPAN
style="COLOR: black"><o:p><FONT
face="Times New Roman"> </FONT></o:p></SPAN></P>
<P style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class=MsoNormal><SPAN style="COLOR: black"><FONT
face="Times New Roman">A tap, then a more urgent nudge, reminded me to uncross
my arms which were gripping my chest. I spread myself open like a butterfly, my
hands and feet free in front of me. Like flipping a switch, the force of the
fall stabilized and we continued free falling through the cold air with nothing
relative by which to judge our speed or distance. It’s an eternity, when there
is nothing but air under your feet.<o:p></o:p></FONT></SPAN></P>
<P style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class=MsoNormal><U><SPAN
style="COLOR: black"><FONT face="Times New Roman">I’m a little confused about
the free fall position. In my mind, I see<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes">
</SPAN>the hands out in front like Super Man flying. But I also see the legs
being begind, not in front. Can you clarify?<o:p></o:p></FONT></SPAN></U></P>
<P style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class=MsoNormal><U><SPAN
style="COLOR: black"><o:p><SPAN style="TEXT-DECORATION: none"><FONT
face="Times New Roman"> </FONT></SPAN></o:p></SPAN></U></P>
<P style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class=MsoNormal><SPAN style="COLOR: black"><FONT
face="Times New Roman">Too soon, the parachute opened, interrupting our freedom
from time and space. We slowed, gliding in a controlled fashion round and round,
round and round, down and down, feeling the pull of the
ground.<o:p></o:p></FONT></SPAN></P>
<P style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class=MsoNormal><SPAN
style="COLOR: black"><o:p><FONT
face="Times New Roman"> </FONT></o:p></SPAN></P>
<P style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class=MsoNormal><SPAN style="COLOR: black"><FONT
face="Times New Roman">My new best buddy assured me that my father and his
partner were also drifting without distress. Laughter and relief erupted, along
with disappointment that the best part, the free fall, was already
over.<o:p></o:p></FONT></SPAN></P>
<P style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class=MsoNormal><SPAN
style="COLOR: black"><o:p><FONT
face="Times New Roman"> </FONT></o:p></SPAN></P>
<P style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class=MsoNormal><SPAN style="COLOR: black"><FONT
face="Times New Roman">Reality and my family on the ground reappeared as I
tucked, bumped, hopped, and rolled to a stop, my glee overtaken only by the
sounds of my Dad’s laughter and my daughter’s
tears.<o:p></o:p></FONT></SPAN></P>
<P style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class=MsoNormal><SPAN
style="COLOR: black"><o:p><FONT
face="Times New Roman"> </FONT></o:p></SPAN></P>
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style="FONT-FAMILY: Arial; COLOR: black"><BR
style="mso-special-character: line-break"><BR
style="mso-special-character: line-break"><FONT
face="Times New Roman"></FONT></SPAN></P>
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style="FONT-FAMILY: Arial; COLOR: black"><o:p> </o:p></SPAN></P></DIV></FONT></BODY></HTML>