I Can See

I Can See!

Not only do movies create magic for the audience, but for the actor as well. It conjures up a brew for an otherwise shy person to become a romantic lead, a mild-mannered reporter for a great metropolitan newspaper to become a superhero and, in my case, enables a blind actor to see.

My previous gig was playing a blind villain in a short horror film, and this go-around I was an inventor / scientist introduced in the opening sequence of a feature length screenplay. My enigmatic character, Cornelius Proctor, has invented a device that will allow him to transfer his “being” into it just before shuffling off his mortal coil. I’m dressed in a Henley style collarless shirt, suspenders, some pinstriped trousers and wearing some cool wire rimmed glasses. Yep, I can see.

Proctor gazing out the window

Confined to an authentic 1930s wheelchair, the sequence shows my character pondering the final deed whilst gazing through my window at a storm raging outside. Resolved, I approach and activate my device just before dispatching myself, transferring my essence into this nifty retro sci-fi apparatus the size of a breadbox.

So, how does the blind man “see” to wheel from his window to his radio for one last listen before heading over to his work-station where sits his device and his destiny?

Magic my dear Watson. Actually, watching an off-set monitor, my director prompted me as the action unfolded in real time. I spin my wheelchair away from the window, the director shouts “Stop!” – my cue to now wheel straight across the room to the old-fashioned Zenith. The tricky part was to land on a dime 12-feet away from the window, just left of the radio, in order to reach down and switch it off before wheeling over to my makeshift worktable in the center of the living room. With the director’s cues and a little practice, I roll to the radio, stop, listen briefly to the music, bullseye the knob and switch it off and, taking one last look around my room at tacked up blueprints and a mysterious photo of a woman on the wall, I wheel away to the workbench. Nailed it. 

Director Fareed Al-Mashat watching monitor behind set

Taking direction

Proctor close up listening to radio in the dark

Like all shoots, there were long, medium, close-ups, as well as overhead shots of the same action, lensed separately, so there would be enough coverage to give the director and editor optional ways to cut the film.

Director of Photography Frank Martin lining up device shot

What I didn’t actually see, but what dressed the stage, was the storm raging outside, accomplished by a behind-the-set rain-rake drizzling water down the window and an offstage fan blowing palm fronds as if they were fluttering in the wind. Inside on the set was a copy of a vintage Life magazine resting on a straw couch, an old-school oscillating fan, a dozen blueprints tacked up on the walls, and living room furniture moved off to the side to accommodate my workspace. On the floor were boxes of various parts and covering the workbench were old-fashioned tools, vacuum tubes, a soldering iron with a small burning flame, a jar of acetone...and, of course, the device. 

The device and random tools

The device had a hand-crank, two switches, two separate dials, and a grab-handle which I had to execute in sequence to fire it up. However, before disappearing into it, I made one last entry in my journal. (I was told that my handwriting was pretty good.) Then I cranked, flipped, twisted, grabbed, trembled violently, and zap…I was a goner! Nailed it.

After two days of shooting, which will ultimately be edited to 2-minutes, we wrapped the prologue sequence, setting up the device and the action about to unfold. 

So, whenever I want to see, I simply head over to a film set – just one more magical benefit of making movies.

It’s a bird. It’s a plane. It’s a blind dude who can see!

Proctor at workbench with device and set in background

Steve Gladstone

The Blind Dude

Blind Dude Turns Villain

Not quite the Phantom of the Opera, but nevertheless psychologically seducing the ingénue was my game last weekend.

When a blind actor is offered the role of a menacing villain in a short horror film, he signs on.

Though the “girl” subscribes to the paranormal and reads tarot cards, she is innocent and wholesome until falling under the spell of the bad guy. The “boy” hasn’t a chance against this formidable foe. As she slowly becomes unhinged and angles to dispatch her fiancée with a large blade, the creepy blind man blissfully witnesses the event.

With a vintage top hat, long leather coat, Doc Martens boots and some nifty scar makeup, my character didn’t have to say much to get his point across. The film was framed so the viewer will be able to see what I am thinking, and my actions will be enough to psychologically manipulate the girl to attack her soon-to-be husband. Ah! The magic of movie-making!

It does take a special sort of producer and director to hire an actor with a disability, even when the actor is otherwise right for the role. It's a production team with imagination who can see that hiring a performer with a disability can add an extra layer to the character, making him or her that much more interesting. 

On the set, it all boils down to director and actor collaborating and adapting so the script can be served and the actor accommodated.

Being on a film set is actually a nice environment for a blind actor. Once in position, you usually don’t have to move very much and, as opposed to acting on the stage, you generally keep your expressions and gestures small. You always have the benefit of a rehearsal and if the scene doesn’t go well, you just shoot it again.

Before each sequence, I ask to “walk” the set to get a sense of the space I’m working in. Then I ask the director how I’m to be framed – full on, from the waist up, chest up, or just the face. I'll also ask the DP (director of photography) to clap his hands in front of the lens so I can locate it. After that simple prep, not unlike any non-disabled actor, it’s just a matter of disappearing into your character, listening and reacting to the other characters, and delivering your lines honestly.

Of course, there is the occasional outtake that catches you in a more playful moment.

Like any competent actor, I strive for a well-drawn and nuanced performance while trying not to blink and keeping my mouth closed when I’m not speaking.

Steve Gladstone

The Blind Dude

Eating Ants

The other day my daughter came over for a visit. I was in my den when I heard her calling out to me from the kitchen: “Hey dad, there are ants all over your chocolate candy.”

Yikes! I had a flash memory from the night before, eating a couple of pieces from my box of Valentine chocolates which I had been rationing and now was almost empty…except for the ants.

I quickly got to thinking about any weird science I might have swallowed in the past and recalled how I thought the sliced ham I had for lunch earlier tasted a little tangy. When you’re a blind dude, bad strawberries and sour milk are simple to detect, but ant-covered chocolates, not so easy.

I started wondering why I was still alive.

I suppose at their most basic level, ants are protein.

Then I remembered Steve McQueen’s character in the film Papillon, mashing up and eating insects while detained in a French Guiana prison. It didn’t kill him but rather helped sustain him for two years while being held in solitary confinement. I was starting to feel better.

Certainly in some parts of the world, local cuisine includes beetles, grasshoppers and other insects which are dried, fried and covered with seasonings. Desserts include tasty tidbits like Chocolate Covered Scorpion and Chile-Lime Crickets.

According to one source: “…80% of the world views insects as normal food; it's only nations in Europe, Canada and the USA who balk at the idea.”

Was I ahead of the curve?

A quick surf on Google will bring you to organizations that promote the eating of those creepy little critters. One such association boasts: “Eat Bugs, Save the Planet.” There are ‘Bug Festivals’ dedicated to educating us about the nutritional benefits of edible insects.

Notwithstanding the challenges of world hunger, the rising demand for meat, overfishing, current farming practices damaging the environment, polluting the water and air and contributing to the rise in infectious diseases, it may be time to change the way we view food.

Back to what we eat.

I thought about a nice steak – cooked cow, really? Who’d want to eat such an odd looking animal? And sushi…? Hmm, raw fish. Then it hit me: maybe as long as what we eat is dead, it works. Or at least is more appetizing.

We don’t eat living stuff. But lots of other creatures do. Snakes eat live rats, lions eat zebra, lizards eat flies, cats eat lizards, and blind dudes eat ants. No big whoop, eh?

Good thing those big bug movies like “Them!” (a nest of gigantic irradiated ants storming L.A.) and “The Fly” (a scientist mutating into a human fly) are just Sci-Fi. Otherwise, we might also be on the menu.

Dead or alive, food is necessary for survival. And eating responsibly is a worthwhile consideration.

Perhaps someday we’ll hear public service announcements like: “Promote healthy eating and sustainable farming with tasty & edible insects. Eat a bug!”

Until then, I won’t be dusting my chocolates with little ants anytime soon, but won’t freak out if I munch a few along the way.

Steve Gladstone The Blind Dude

Timing is Everything!

Photos by Aida Zuniga So I was in Nicaragua on Wednesday soundseeing and heard a faint but distinctive grumbling coming from the belly of this volcano.

I checked it out and smoke started to rise behind me and I figured it was time to get out of Dodge and rustle up some barbeque. Good thing I did or it might have been me on the menu.

Steve Gladstone

The ‘alive and well’ Blind Dude

Why Does a Blind Man Visit the Grand Canyon?

Why does a blind man visit the Grand Canyon?

To hear the sights of course.

I recently signed up for a tour from Phoenix to the Grand Canyon and to my delight it included non-stop narration over the 6 hour trek to the big abyss. Picked up some useful information and some pretty good food along the way (though I did not try the cactus fries).

Becoming the 48th state in 1912, most of Arizona’s land remains unspoiled; you pass through the desert dotted with cactus and head north through forests of pine, fir, and spruce trees. Large swaths of undeveloped land belong to many Native American tribes including the Navajo Nation. I was impressed to find that so much of Arizona’s reservation land remains casino free – unlike so many reservation hosted casinos around the country that give new meaning to “pay back.”

On our way to the canyon, we stopped in Sedona – a funky little town with metaphysical shops, talismans, vortexes, and celebrity vacation homes – a sort of Key West of the desert.

I’ll attempt to shrink the Grand Canyon’s long history into a short sentence: The Colorado River is a chisel that carved out the Grand Canyon over the past 6 million years, steadily cutting layer after layer of sediment into a channel that is 277 miles long, ranging in width from 4 to 18 miles with a vertical depth of more than 1 mile.

The outcome is a splendid example of erosion. The immense gorge is one of the seven natural wonders of the world, is visible from outer space, and boasts 5 million visitors annually. It is a wilderness of rock, light and shadow.

Bottom line: I didn’t see much.

I couldn’t see the massive wingspan of the condor, nor glimpse deer, elk, mountain lion, raven or antelope, nor any of the 2,000 varieties of plants that populate the canyon. And, of course, I missed seeing the depths below.

However, though the sights were vast, so were the sounds. I cottoned to the many languages I continuously heard floating in the air within 5 feet around me – a mashup of accents from foreign countries like Japan, Germany, France, Australia, Russia and Kansas.

I visited the eastern and southern parts of the South Rim of the canyon. The soft cool wind kept surrounding me like a garment as I moved from point to point, wearing the breeze like a linen jacket at the Desert View Watchtower and then like a spooky cape at Yaki Point. I intoned a sublime meditation at Yaki as the environs took over my body and brain.

[video width="320" height="240" mp4="http://www.insightfortheblind.org/blog/wp-content/uploads/2015/11/Yaki-Point.mp4"][/video]

I loved the blustering gusts at Mather Point even though I missed the sunset doing its slow dance with the vast cavern. I missed the sunrise too because I was asleep back in my hotel room.

Many visitors asked me if I felt anything awesome. I know they wanted the blind man to sense something grand. I did not want to disappoint them, so I channeled some down home Native American ideals I had just learned and waxed on about an “expansive spiritual space governed by Mother Earth and Father Sky and how we must work not ‘off’ the earth but ‘with’ the earth and how we must govern our behavior in a deep sort of way by asking how what we do to the land today will impact seven generations from now.” Some folks were mystified with my answer. So was I.

I felt a little bit like Kokopelli, the mythical formidable story teller and prankster who wanders around the Southwestern states playing his flute. (In full disclosure, while visiting a Navajo reservation I did buy a flute made of handcrafted birch wood, which sounds pretty nice.)

A friend looking at some of the pictures my girlfriend posted on Facebook said, “Holy c--p! Don’t look down.” I did look down but didn’t see anything. I’ll try again tomorrow.

And that’s just it – many nights after I crawl into bed, I wonder if I’ll wake up in the morning being able to see. And if that should happen, I plan on racing back to the Grand Canyon, though I might just shut my eyes when I get there.

Steve Gladstone The Blind Dude

All photos and video by Aida Zuniga

Where is There?

Today there are only about 39 million people in the world who are completely blind, which is about ½ of 1% of the world’s total population. We are not talking about visually impaired people who use corrective lenses or cock their heads this way or that to pull something into view; we are talking gold standard blind – people unable to see zip… nada, nothing.

Since 99.5% of the world’s population can see, most people never come face-to-face with a completely blind individual and consequently get no practice interacting with totally blind folks.

I used to be amazed at how inept or awkward people were around me after I lost all my sight. It’s like I had an exotic skin disease when people went to guide me. Typically they’d grab my hand or wrist and proceed to drag me along as if I was a large stuffed animal.

When I ask where the pitcher of lemonade is or where I should sit while waiting for the doctor, I’m frequently told, “Over there.” Where is there, exactly? The similar phrase, “Sit over here,” isn’t much help either. “Go that way” also isn’t a useful direction for a sightless person.

The key problem for blind people (besides not being able to see) is that most of the world isn’t blind.

The disadvantages of being sightless in a sighted world are many, most likely due to the fact that people who invent things are not blind and don’t think about building products and providing services with the blind in mind.

Even buttons to press or knobs to turn that can be helpful to sightless users are disappearing from appliances and credit card swipers. My local supermarket just replaced their keypad pay stations with touchscreens, making it impossible for me to complete the checkout process myself. Ovens, microwaves, thermostats, countless other appliances, even vending machine operational buttons and knobs have slowly been replaced with digital displays, making most of them inaccessible for sightless people. (Gotta give a shout out to Apple Inc., the exception here, for designing their goods for blind users with lots of accessibility built into their products.)

This refrigerator has a lot of options...for a sighted person.

When I’m listening to the TV and hear, “Just call the number at the bottom of your screen for your 30 day supply and we’ll pay the shipping,” or the message says, “Just call 1-800-GOFEDEX,” you know these knuckleheads aren’t thinking of their blind customers.

Ironically, some banks do provide Braille instructions on their ATMs, but in the drive-through? Really? So, they want the operator of the vehicle to throw it into reverse and back up into the drive-through lane so that their blind passenger can reach out and touch the nicely brailed panel of instructions? Or maybe the bank execs intend this accommodation for the blind folks who are out and about on their roller blades with their guide dogs.

Braille in the drive-thru? Hmm.

Since most people don’t have a family member or a friend who is a real-deal blind person, they get no practice with what sightless individuals consider to be the no-brainer rules of engagement: don’t grab and drag, don’t say “over there,” announce all the digits of the phone number, etc.

The other day I went to the podiatrist with a pain in my big left toe. When the receptionist (who learned I was blind when I signed in) called my name, my friend led me to the door leading to the examination rooms. I was standing there quietly in the doorway when the receptionist told me to go down the hall and enter the second door on the left. I smugly replied, “Which way?” She said, “Over there.” (cricket…cricket…) I grinned wryly and she said, “Oh, walk down that way about 20 feet (Ha! I’ll bet she was pointing too!) and take a left into the second door.” My friend realized what was happening (or not happening), offered me his elbow and led me to the examining room.

I later realized my own prejudice – I assumed medical professionals would know better. Then again, most, maybe all, of their patients aren’t blind. No practice dealing with blind folks, like the rest of the world.

I made my follow-up appointment and the receptionist announced to my friend that I needed to return in 2 weeks. Did she think I wasn’t going to tell him? Really? This is similar to the server in a restaurant who will ask my girlfriend if I would prefer the broccoli or string beans with my chicken and rice. She points to me and says, “Ask him. He’ll know.”

Curiously, when I’m speaking on the phone with somebody I’ve never met and my blindness comes up during the natural course of the conversation, they often say, “You don’t sound blind.”

I’m still not sure what sounding blind is supposed to sound like.

Steve Gladstone

The Blind Dude

Blind Is the New Sight

When you were a child, did you ever close your eyes and imagine flying like a bird, or picture what was at the end of a rainbow, or shut your eyes to make a wish while you were blowing out your birthday candles?

As adults, we take a workshop with Tony the empowerment guru who has us close our eyes and visualize where-we-want-to-be-in-five-years, or we complete our yoga class with our eyes closed as the yogi leads us on a guided meditation.

Why with our eyes closed? Can’t we get there with them open? Does sight somehow prevent us from fulfilling our wishes or reaching the higher plane of our inner-universe?

While we’re asleep our eyes are closed and those vivid dreams appear, sending meaningful messages to ourselves. Sight is turned off even with our eyes wide open via a daydream, where we are transported to the outback thousands of miles away from the boardroom.

When we listen to a book on tape or read a novel, sight isn’t a factor. Instead, the spoken and written words spark our imagination, our mind’s eye surveying the colorful images and landscapes in our head. Our imaginings can sometimes be so potent that they leave us disappointed in the movie made from the book. Perhaps what we see is trumped by what we think.

You also get more out of your other senses when you’re sightless. We may hear more of what someone says because we don’t get distracted by something we see going on around them; you tune into the tone, tempo and rhythm of what they’re saying and pick up the meaning between their words. Touch becomes more satisfying as you check out the shape, weight and texture of items (and people too if you get lucky!). Your sense of smell is heightened into a fragrant blossom when you’re not distracted by the beauty of the flower.

Certainly we all want to see, but sight does come with its limitations. It shapes our immediate thinking and can create a barrier to our deeper self. If we don’t see the fancy car they drive, or the short skirt, or the missing teeth, we may indeed become a little less timid or shy or snobbish and a little more relaxed and real with the people we meet.

If pictures were eliminated from online dating websites, what would be the outcome? Pandemonium that leads to better results?

Going on a ‘blind date’ implies risky business. Sight unseen may lead to disappointment. However, let’s face it, when you’re on that first date, you’re looking your best and on your best behavior; sight may actually be misleading if we don’t begin to get beyond that scrubbed and shining first impression. Half of all marriages wind up in divorce, usually for reasons that don’t meet the eye. When you’re blind, you focus on the voice which can be a better lens to the soul. For the record, all my dates are blind ones.

Sight can certainly promote discrimination, triggering those biases we carry in our heads when the people around us look and move differently than we do. When you’re blind, you don’t prejudge the abilities of the guy you just met in the wheelchair.

If most of the world was blind, things might be more peaceful. There’d be less discrimination since color of skin wouldn’t trigger aggressive actions. War would be reduced and possibly eliminated since we wouldn’t be able to see the enemy, or at least take accurate aim.

Perhaps the world would be a little less hostile if we all were a little more blind.

When you do without sight, there are plenty of advantages. Everybody speaking on the phone is virtually blind: how convenient it is for those who have home-based businesses to strike deals while sitting in their Jockey shorts.

You save a lot of money when you’re blind. You tend to buy only what you need. You’re not tempted to grab the stuff around the checkout counter of the grocery store, or the items down the aisles of the drugstore as you head back to the pharmacy, or the attractive sweater you don’t need but have to pass by in order to get the pants which you do need.

So we dutifully and happily shut our eyes and let out a long sigh as we hunker down into our yoga mats, improving our mood, muscles and digestive systems.

The Seven Steps

Blind folks and old folks have something in common: they prefer their own bathrooms. One exception is the airplane lavatory. It’s very efficient for a blind person. Everything you need is nailed down – soap pump to the left of the sink, paper towels to the right, trash shoot below the paper towels. And all within reach.

Going out and about in public is something we all need to do from time to time, say, to take in a movie, travel to Boise or hit the pool hall. Generally, unfamiliar bathrooms can be tricky for blind folks.

First off, if you’re a blind guy out with your girlfriend or wife, which bathroom do you choose? Today, many large theaters and buildings have a family restroom. No-brainer here. In you go. But, in loo (mandatory pun!) of the family bathroom, you usually have a choice of either the men’s room or women’s room.

I have found that most men don’t care if a woman is in their restroom. However, if your female companion is wary of entering the men’s john, she’ll plant you inside the door where you promptly announce: “I’m a blind dude. Can someone guide me to the urinal?” Guys are usually happy to do so, then lead you to the sink, Johnny-on-the-spot with the paper towels, and then offer a helping hand to the exit.

I actually prefer entering the women’s bathroom with my girlfriend – it’s easier to navigate when you’re with somebody familiar. Of course, there are times when a lady inside the restroom protests my presence there. To stem the ‘outrage,’ I usually ask her where she studied Criminology and then congratulate her on recognizing me as a nefarious rascal.

If you wind up alone in an unfamiliar restroom, say in a restaurant or office, there are seven steps to follow before you get down to business: you must first locate 1) the toilet, 2) the flusher, 3) the toilet paper, 4) the sink, 5) the soap, 6) the paper towels and 7) the trashcan. (Oops – the eighth step is remembering your way out.) If you’re in a hotel room, add the bath towels, the floor mat, the shampoo and then work your way to the bed, the thermostat, outlets for your adaptors, the room phone, the TV remote on/off and volume/channel buttons, the do-not-disturb sign and where to unplug the clock radio which was set to go off at 4:30 a.m. by the previous guest.

Flushers keep it interesting. In the airplane lav, the 4-inch square flush panel is a relatively easy target to tap with the toe of your sneaker while you’re washing up. The joystick or handle flushers on your standard commodes are a matter of which side their situated on. The newer toilets with the push buttons are a little trickier – especially when there’s two buttons.

Automatic flushers can be problematic. While standing in relief mode, you search for the flush handle with your other hand. Finding none, you back away hoping to hear that familiar ‘click-whoosh’ sound. Similarly, the auto sink and soap dispenser can be a bit frustrating, especially when one doesn’t work or you can’t find the sweet spot for engaging the auto-response mechanism. (I am told this often isn’t easy even for sighted folks.) You cup your hands under the water spigot. Nothing. So you search for the water handles or push on the soap nozzle, and nothing. You unwittingly repeat this process several times – similar to the way you retrace the same steps 18 times at home when you can’t find your wallet or keys. Finally, it dawns on you to work your way to the next sink where you repeat the dance and hopefully wash up. You also figure out it’s an automatic towel dispenser as a little paper towel finally comes buzzing out after frisking the entire metal box for its nonexistent lever.

Of course, none of these strategies are perfect. Once, I was in a high school bathroom and (as I always do) first measured the target urinal to center myself for optimum aim. Starting with my palms together about waist high, I slowly widen them until the backs of my hands touch the outer edges of the porcelain. This helps to measure the width of the urinal for proper centering. As I was emptying my bladder, I slightly moved my feet and heard the faint splashing of a shallow puddle of water beneath my sneakers. Yep. I had positioned myself in front of the wall between two urinals.

Steve Gladstone, The Blind Dude

Broken Glass

photo by George Schiavone

I just finished stuffing some tuna fish into a green pepper, when I bumped my dish strainer and a glass plate came crashing down on the tile floor in my kitchen. I could hear it shatter into a zillion pieces. “Don’t panic, don’t move,” I thought, “and eat your lunch.”

I did and it was tasty. The problem was that the thousand shards of glass were still there after I finished eating.

I employ magical thinking at every opportunity, and when that doesn’t work, I turn to wishful thinking. I believe these sorts of sophisticated thought strategies are practiced by most everyone. A fine example of this is the decision we all make everyday whether or not to wash the dishes right after eating, or wait till tomorrow. If we wait till morning, the dish-fairy might just get them done for us.

Usually both the magical and wishful tactics come up short in solving real problems, and then I find myself resorting to reality, which is not as flexible as the magical approach. So, the myriad slivers of glass didn’t all by themselves suddenly wind up in the garbage can, migrate to a neat little pile to be sucked up easily into a vacuum hose, nor did they find their way back together again into a useful saucer.

What to do. Blind and barefoot in a kitchen with broken glass frosting your floor is a difficult situation.

Rule 1: Obtain a layer of protection. Rule 2: Move slowly. Rule 3: First, finish your lunch.

Fortunately, within arm’s reach were some paper towels. I grabbed several, crouched low and slowly ran the paper towels along the floor, moving the sharp little slivers aside and creating safe passage out of the kitchen. All 3 of my “call-me-anytime-if-you-need-any-help” neighbors were unavailable. I put up a blockade at the entrance of the kitchen so my guide dog Billy wouldn’t wander in. Six hours later, a friend swept and vacuumed my kitchen floor. I suppose she was a fairy of sorts.

So, when you’re blind and live alone and your dog throws-up, what do you do? Yep, magical thinking aside, obtain a layer of protection and move slowly (with some Lysol spray in tow). But first, finish your lunch.

My Minnie Vacation

Thank you Thespis! I closed Three Sisters after 30 performances and was hired straight away to play King Silvio in another fantastical iteration of The Love of Three Oranges, an updated 18th Century Italian fairy tale. The number “3” has been good to me lately. A little R&R was in order before beginning rehearsals for Oranges, so it was off to Disney.

Even worse than the broken desk chair, the broken refrigerator, and the broken shower door in my hotel room, was the one bar of soap on the little glass shelf along with the hand cream, shampoo and conditioner. (I’m reminded of the time when I washed my hair with hand cream!) Of course I forgot to ask for another bar of soap and the next morning I had to take the little piece of sink soap into the shower. Then later when I needed to wash the toothpaste off my hands, I had to hop back into the shower to retrieve it. Anyway, I got everything fixed and the maid loaded me up with extra bars of soap – compensation for my troubles. The good news is now I won’t have to buy any soap for my bathroom at home for about 6 months.

First off was Fantasyland. Part of the fantasy is not standing in line. However, I may have to drop that from my “Advantages of Being Blind” list. During this round of Disney, the traditional bump to the front of the line was met by the ADA police. I was informed that: “This ride is ADA compliant.” This was code for “all you disabled customers now have the same privilege to stand in line for 95 minutes to ride for five just like the rest of the schmoes.” Of course the stop-starting when you can’t see, the more than 27 toes you step on during that winding line maneuver, notwithstanding the burden for your companion who must diligently watch you and coach you to start and stop 197 times as you inch forward, isn’t considered an ‘undue hardship’ on the blind dude. It wouldn’t be quite so bad if most of the big round eared Crime Squad didn’t have a seemingly gleeful tone in their voice when delivering the news to join the rest of the sheep in line. It’s always a bit of a shocker when Disney employees behave like the normal rest of the world. Still I love the Mouse.

After visiting EPCOT and connecting with Figment, eating several chocolate covered frozen bananas, and riding through the Maelstrom and purchasing a new troll to add to my excellent collection of supernatural beings, I was off to Hollywood Studios. While at Guest Services there, I was offered a descriptive audio device which automagically described some of the action inside the rides. For example, during Pirates of the Caribbean, instead of just hearing a clunk on a table, a descriptive character voice told me that “Jack Sparrow raises his mug of rum, drinks it, and puts it down on the table.” Nice! Years ago I only heard a machine gun rattle, roaring propellers and felt the heat from a sudden burst of a fireball during the finale of the Indiana Jones Epic Stunt Spectacular. This time through my little device with headphones, I learned that “Indiana Jones was trying to rescue his partner Marion, who was shooting at the bad guys with a machine gun from the cockpit of a plane that was spinning out of control, while flames were racing toward the plane from an ignited gasoline tanker which exploded just as Jones and Marion leap to safety.” Über-cool.

Now we just have to train all the employees at The World to offer these handy-dandy devices. No one offered me the audio description machines at The Magic Kingdom nor at EPCOT. (Perhaps the very thorough ADA Crime Squad trainers need to be recruited to train the customer service reps at all the parks.) These nifty headsets will be on my list for Santa next go-round.

Now off to another magical land – Lugubria – and the search for three oranges.

Rehearsal and Opening

Our director Stephanie “blocks” the show, positioning the players to fit the action of the dialogue. In my case with “Three Sisters,” I’m playing Ferapont, an 80 year old messenger who is hard of hearing (according to the script) and whom we made visually impaired to boot. So in my case, my blocking was for 2 characters – me and the maid, the faithful Ana, who leads me wherever I need to go.

Usually I play sighted characters, keying off set pieces, changes in flooring, other actors, to get my bearings, but when I have the opportunity to play a blind character, I’ll have a timely cane or a sighted guide. (I’ve never used my guide dog on stage, though once I forgot to tie him down backstage and while dancing in the streets of Paris in “Hunchback of Notre Dame” came the familiar jingle of a dog collar and suddenly, there was my guide, bouncing in the streets of Paris with the ensemble. The audience loved it. After the show, the director said, “Let’s keep it in!”

Stephanie, an attractive brunette with piercing eyes behind rectangular glasses, sees and conveys a clear image of the “where, when and why” of each action for each player, choreographer Octi often assisting on the “how to get there.” With 16 actors, set pieces, flower arrangements, books, a smashing clock, toys, bottles, glasses, and dishes, which all move, there is a lot of constant traffic during the 4 acts of this show, both on and off stage. Everything is blocked precisely by Stephanie so the show runs like a well-oiled machine with no interruption in the action, and with no actors bumping into each other or the set. For this special show, the audience is also on stage on a movable riser which is repositioned 3 times during the play for different views in and around the Prozorov house.

The Candy Set

In order to get a sense of the surroundings on stage, Ana grabs some of my leftover Halloween candy and creates a model set, a colorful array of Jolly Ranchers, Twizzlers, and Sweet Tarts. She puts my hands on it so I can feel the set pieces, giving me a real sense of the space. My cell phone plays the part of the audience riser.

Miami Shores isn’t Flat

I have to remember that the 3 different staircases in the theatre I use during the show all have a different number of steps leading up and down from the stage – stage left has five, stage right has four, and the steps at the back of the house have six. As I go up and down these suckers, sometimes quickly, I gotta concentrate. I’m happy to report so far so good.

Costumes

The costumes, designed by multi-tasking Fernando (who is also the set and lighting designer), are quite elegant, the ladies in corsets, beautiful floor length dresses, boots with heels, the men bedecked in military garb, the maids in formal servant dress, and that messenger for the chairman (yours truly) looking a bit disheveled.

Lights and Sound

Once the entire play is blocked, we start back at the top and do a “cue-to-cue” where each action starts and stops so the lights and sound effects can be added to the action on stage. With doorbells ringing, a violin playing offstage, fire truck bells sounding, birds chirping, barking dogs and over 170 different light cues, this process alone takes 2 weeks to conclude.

All Hands on Deck

Once the show is blocked, lit and sound-synched, it’s time to work the transitions from act to act. The 5 Stage hands, including the lovely Tammy who does double duty as a maid on stage, strike and add the massive amount of set pieces and props during the transitions between the acts,and pivot the 49 members of the audience on the movable riser, smoothly and efficiently.

Downtime

You become a family when you work on a show. You nap backstage when you’re not working, eat together at the local bistro, and play with Billy the Dog whenever possible.

Opening

Once we open, Stephanie turns the show over to the stage manager Naomi, and the assistant stage manager Amanda, who “call” the show from top to bottom, making sure that the actors are in place and the almost 300 cues for lights, sound,set changes and actors goes off without a hitch.

It’s show time!

Lessons From Dog School

I recently returned from my third tour of Southeastern Guide Dogs with my new guide Billy, refreshed on some major lessons I first learned at dog school 20 years ago. While navigating a 26 day course living and training on the school campus, at first you think you are going to learn how to work with a guide dog, and you do this. However, some unexpected lessons also alter your habitual brain.

Quick to Criticize, Slow to Praise

Perhaps the biggest lesson learned at school is that we humans are quick to criticize and slow to praise. As a manager of an electronics retail store for several years, I ran a tight ship, swift to point out to my sales team the dirt on the floor or a customer not being greeted properly or shelves that were not well merchandised. When things were running smoothly, compliments to my team were rare. The way my salespeople knew they were doing a good job was when they were not being criticized by me.

You soon learn day one at dog school that obedience is critical to your safety. If your dog disobeys a command or runs you off a curb, you're toast. When your dog gets it wrong, you must quickly “correct” them with a strong verbal NO! and a hefty zing to their collar. They need to know they blew it. You also learn on day one that you need to praise your dog when they get it right. Praise is their paycheck. No surprise here that my school chums and I were natural zingers, but had to be constantly reminded by the trainers to “praise your dog.” For the first 3 or 4 days the hardest part of training was catching your dog doing things right. After a week or so, I was bellowing “Good boyeeee!”, almost songlike.

Here’s the ratio: for every 1 correction you make, you need to deliver 3 praises. You soon find out that if you constantly correct your dog without praising enough, your dog begins to shut down on you. Their mistakes increase and they may stop working altogether. When this occurs, job one is to build up your dog – go back to maneuvers they do well, praise and love them up. It doesn’t take long for them to start working effectively again. Bottom line, the dog wants to please you and needs to know that he is doing just that.

After about 2 weeks, I became a formidable praise-giver. The zings continued but so did the admiration. Over time, the corrections decreased and the praises increased and the overall performance became first rate. Praise built confidence, confidence improved performance. Major “duh” factor at play here.

Consistency was part of this lesson. If your dog blows it, you gotta correct them every time. Otherwise they learn that sometimes it’s o-k to blow it. Consistent praise, no brainer. Mixed signals don’t work well with pups and people.

Yep. I realized after returning home, I was long on criticism and short on praise with my kids too. My kids screwed up and I honed in on their faults like a tractor beam from a distant galaxy. They had to pick up their stuff, chew with their mouth closed and straighten their room. But the moment they started to do it unprompted, I didn’t notice. The “thanks for picking up your chicken bones and video games” didn’t sing from my lips. I thought, “Oh, they got it.” But I didn’t get it. Got to let them know! Playing armchair psychologist, I can’t help but think about all the adults I know who still feel that they could never please their parents. How could they? Their parents never let them know they were pleased.

Now I don’t assume a server at a restaurant is just doing their job when I get good service. Sure I tip 20% (up from my customary 15%) but I also give them the “at-a-boys!”

Down Time

A business friend once told me that “the day after I die, my inbox will still be full.” After working a route with Billy, I give him a chance to chill with a slurp from his water bowl or play with his ball or just take a nap. There are endless places to go and time to crunch. Gotta remember to rest. If the dog gets tired, he doesn’t perform well. Now I just have to also remember to give myself some downtime. I’m often too busy cutting the grass to sharpen the blades. I can get real dull real fast.

Trust

Whenever I’m on strange turf I have a tendency to tighten up and anticipate obstacles. Billy can sense that I don’t trust him and doesn’t perform well. Lack of trust kills performance. (Another duh factor.) As soon as I remember to trust him, he navigates beautifully. My job is to stop trying to control what I can’t control and read my dog. I have to remember that he can do things that I can’t do – like see.

Relaxed

When a trainer muses how “relaxed” your dog looks, you know your hitting your stride. Relaxing while working brings out the best in athletes and actors and dogs. The result of praise, trust and some well deserved downtime brings good things to your pup. Seems to bring good things to people as well.

Lessons are good wherever we learn them.