[Critique Group 1] Leonard's comments for Deana's piece

[tuchyner5 at aol.com]

Chapter 16.

Saying good-bye

 

After losing my first job, I was restless.  I cleaned the house, went for walks and volunteered my time as an unpaid teacher’s aide in a class for visually impaired children.  I applied to attend graduate school at San Jose State.  Before enrolling, Curt, Tammy and I happened to be in San Francisco for the day. We stumbled upon an Action Office.  On impulse Curt and I  filled-out forms to join the United States Peace Corps. 

 

Two months later I received an offer to go to the Arab Republic of Yemen to teach in a German run mission school for blind children.  I didn’t have a teaching credential.  The only teaching I had done was as an aide in resource rooms for disabled children. While still attending college, I had worked with recently blinded adults, one-on-one as a contract teacher of independent living skills for the California Department of Rehabilitation.  I asked for the weekend to think it over.

 

Curtis and I went to the library to find out if they had any material about this tiny Arab nation.  We discovered that they had only opened contact with the western world in the late fifties.  We took a long walk on the beach at Santa Cruz.  It was our favorite place to go when we wanted to talk over difficult decisions.  This was a big one and would mean so many changes in our lives.  Curt was teaching in a school district with declining enrollment.  Each spring he was let go and he was rehired each fall.  The possibility of getting tenure was very unlikely.  The Peace Corps was willing for him to accompany me to my station and to find him a job once we arrived.     

 

This attitude was very flattering to my bruised ego.  The Peace Corps wanted me!  But did I really want to go to an Arab country where women had such low status?  How would I handle the intense heat?  Would I have to wear a veil and be a submissive little mouse?  That wasn’t at all my style.  I had warned Curtis before agreeing to be engaged, that I was a spoiled brat, used to getting my own way and would probably not improve over time.  I worked hard not to trample over his gentle nature in pursuit of my goals.  How would I handle living in a country where expectations were so low for the blind and rigid about the proper roles for women?

 

By Monday, I was still unsure of my decision.  Then the placement officer from Washington D.C. called back with a second offer.  She had found another request from The Western Samoan Association for the Blind.  They too needed a teacher to work in a school with approximately thirty blind children.  I could picture myself beneath a palm tree on a sandy beach more easily than wearing a veil and sitting astride a camel.  I agreed to take the position. 

 

The scramble was on for our little family.  We had to arrange for the sale of our mobile home, store our furniture, and find a home for our cat.  Curt had to let his principal know that he needed to look for a replacement for the remainder of the school year.  Hardest of all for me was deciding what to do about my wonderful faithful partner in crime Tammy.

 

She had become so much a part of my life it was impossible to imagine going on without her.  She was the one I could always count on to understand my every mood.  Tammy had guided me through four years of college to get my degree and a fifth year toward a Master’s degree.  She had been at my side as I struggled in a less than friendly work environment on my first fulltime job.  For over six years, she had been a constant companion and friend. She was more than just a dog.  She was almost my alter ego.  She was an extension of me. 

 

Tammy would turn eight on her next birthday.  The years had flown by as we went about the task of living.  Her guiding skill was so flawless that I seldom needed to do more than give a quiet word of disapproval to correct any false move.  Walking with her had almost become like dancing with a really talented partner.  Our automatic adjustments to each other's movements were so fluid and graceful, that commands were almost unnecessary.

 

If I took Tammy with me to Western Samoa, she would have to undergo a six-month quarantine.  We had hardly been separated in the years since she walked into the library at The Seeing Eye at Mr. b.’s heels.  She would never survive being locked in a cage and left among strangers.  Even leaving her with friends for an occasional overnight caused her to refuse her food unless I left something of mine with her. 

 

When I left Tammy to attend an opera or concert, to avoid her attempts to sing along, I hired a person familiar to her to dog sit.  One sitter I had used was a schoolteacher who attended our church when we lived in Sonora.  Her youngest child was leaving for college.  She worried about living alone.  When she heard I was considering retirement for Tammy, Doris got permission from the principal of her school to allow Tammy to accompany her to class.  This seemed the best solution for my girl.  She could go to work with Doris each day and be with her to keep her empty home from becoming a lonely place.  I wouldn’t have to figure out how to care for Tammy’s medical needs or what to feed her in a third world nation; where commercial dog food and modern veterinary care were unavailable.

 

The hardest part of being a dog guide handler is the partings.  Whether your dog becomes too old, too ill or just doesn’t handle the stress and responsibility of guiding a blind person well, it is painful to say good-by to your dearest friend.  I was eager to serve my country.  I wanted to pay back a little for the advantages I had been given because I was fortunate enough to be born in a wealthy nation.  I felt that helping less fortunate blind people was a worthwhile project.  I also knew that at eight years old, Tammy would soon be slowing down as she aged.  It wouldn’t be fair to subject her to life in a foreign country. She had given me so much in our time together that rewarding her love and loyalty seemed the only right course of action. She deserved a comfortable retirement surrounded by love and proper care. 

 

As I packed up her familiar rug, dishes and toys. I hoped she would enjoy her new home.  Perhaps she believed I was just going to leave her with her friend Doris for another overnight stay.  I was the one fighting back tears as we drove away.

·        Here is where the body of the book should end. Then there should be  both poems in their special after-chapter. They are a continuation  of saying goodbye,  But right here, before anything else, the story crescendos.  You leave your readers in tears.  The poems are an encore.

·        The following paragraph is more like information giving. It is important, but does not belong in a place where the readers have just had an emotional experience.   It needs a special after-chapter where the reader is ready to read notes.   I would liken my idea to what happens after a true story in cinema where more is said or written about the story just experienced.  I would include the notes on Tammy’s final days in the same section.

 

                There is always something special about a first guide dog.   She is the one that teaches you to trust in her judgment.  She is the one that first gives you that sense of freedom to move safely along busy streets and to  go where you want to, when you want to.  Even when you are lost or momentarily confused, you don’t have to be afraid, because you are not alone.  You have a friend to share the task of figuring out where you are and the adventure of getting back on track.  What might have been terrifying if you had to deal with it alone becomes something you shoulder together. 

 

My beautiful girl Tammy died of a kidney disease before my return from the Peace Corps.  I wish I had been there to hold her and tell her how much a difference she made in my life as she left this world. 

The best I could do was compose this poem:

 

I Wasn't There

When I stepped from the shelter of my family's love,

You were there walking at my side.

When I struggled to keep my footing

In the shifting sands of college life,

You were there keeping me grounded.

When my parents moved away

Leaving me miles behind at school,

You were there to be hugged tightly in my lonliness.

When a friend betrayed my trust,

And I doubted any purpose to my life,

You were there with your head in my lap as I cried.

When I walked down the aisle,

To join my life with another's.

You were there as I said my vows.

When I left school at long last,

To take up my first job.

You were there to lend me confidence.

When I joined the Peace Corps

To pay my debt to my country,

You  were not there for the first time.

So when you left this world,

Thousands of miles away.

I walked on the beach without you.

Remembering the things we had shared.

My heart was breaking,

Because I wasn't there. 

 

 

Tammy gave me so much in our seven years together.  She guided me safely through busy streets and stressful situations I wouldn’t have had the courage to face alone.  Tammy shared times of sorrow, fear and self-doubt.  She brought me moments of laughter and joy.  What price is all we shared worth?  How can anyone put a dollar value on such richness of living?  If dogs go to heaven, (and surely guide dogs must) then I know that one of the first loved ones to greet me, will have a wagging otter tail and loving amber eyes.

 

Loving amber eyes,

Your sunlight glow warms my soul.

When my unseeing gaze falls upon you,

You acknowledge me with a joyful thump of your tail.

I can step into the street with confidence,

Knowing that you have lent me the gift of your sight.

And determined that we are safe to cross.

 

I need not fear the sound of the stranger’s step,

Drawing ever nearer in the night.

For my gentle playmate and friend,

Can turn in an instant into the wolf spirit,

And the golden gaze that warms me with its loving glow,

Can blaze with a feral glare,

Daring anyone to cross the barrier of your body to cause me harm.

 

You wash away or absorb my tears into your glossy coat,

Whenever others disappoint or burden me with sorrow.

You teach me to greet each day anew,

With fresh delight and expectation.

You are my loving amber eyes,

Ever ready to scout the smoothest path for my feet to follow.         

And fill my life with love from the depths of your dutiful amber eyes.

 

 

            Each of my lovely dogs has taught me lessons I could apply to other aspects of my life.  From Tammy I learned to live for today and to fearlessly greet each new experience.  I am currently working with my ninth guide from The Seeing Eye, and it still doesn’t get any easier when the time comes to end a working partnership. The years have flown by, since the day we dropped Tammy off at our friend Doris’s home.  Eight successor dogs have taken up their stations at my left side.  Each dog shouldered the responsibility of guiding to the best of his or her ability.  Each brought a savor and enjoyment to my life with their companionship.  They walked beside me for a while, sharing my journey, helping me to meet and overcome the challenges inherent in being a blind woman.  From each dog, I learned lessons that have enriched my life.

 
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