Story of the blind and ugly
The Blind And Ugly
A Story
If you happened to be alive in the summer of 1959, that's when this story takes
place, you might recognize the time, and if you ever lived in a medium-sized
city back then, you might recognize the park. If you were ever twelve years old
and on the verge of promise and enthusiasm, just passing beyond cruel and lovely
innocence, then you will recognize the magic. Most prepubescent teen-agers
cease to believe in magic, just at the point where real magic takes place in
their bodies, and in their lives. This is the story of two kids, a boy and a
girl, and an enchanted amusement park.
"Well, I hope you are satisfied," my Mother said as she closed the suitcase.
"You are gone off to school during the school year, and now you are going to
spend the summer with your aunt Lola. I'll never get to see you as a kid."
"I would think that would make you happy," I said, knowing it would hurt my
Mother. It seemed that since my twelfth birthday last spring, I had two vocal
tones when dealing with adults: surly, and bored. That's because I had two
moods: surly and bored.
"Don't talk to your Mother that way," my Dad growled. He, on the other hand,
had one tone he used with kids, bark.
"Yes sir," I said. "I'm sorry, Mom." I might be blind, but I wasn't dumb. I
knew when surly was not advantageous to continued existence. Besides, I really
didn't want to hurt my Mother, we loved each other, but we just weren't getting
along at that time. I think it was primarily my antisocial glands kicking in,
and her fearful maternal glands kicking back.
My name is Bob, and I am totally blind, and have been since birth. I tell you
this, because it's an integral part of the story, not because it defines me.
For the moment just pretend that I'm just like you, but my eyes don't work.
They never have, so it's not a frightening thing nor sad, nor anything but a
fact.
I attended the State supported school for the blind from each September until
May since I was six years old. So, I guess my Mother had a good reason for
fearing I would grow up without her. But now I was getting a chance to show my
folks just how independent I could be. I was going to spend the summer with
aunt Lola. She and Uncle Al both worked, so I would have the day time to
myself. She was the only relative I had who believed I was able to take care of
myself, and would let me do anything she would let any other kid my age do. What
was even better, she lived a short bus ride from an amusement park, and said I
could go there during the day. Even my wimpy sister was jealous over that one.
My older brother, who was fifteen, could care less; but, nothing impressed him
these days.
This amusement park, though, was special. It was one of the old kind with
fortune tellers, rides, games for a penny, and the like. The park was probably
built sometime in the nineteen twenties, and had never been updated since then.
Every time I entered the gate to that park, I felt like I was walking onto the
set of a Boris Carlof horror flick. I imagined horrible scenes of magic, torture
and unspeakable crimes against nature going on behind the scenes. They had this
fun house, you know with mirrors that made you look chubby or emaciated,
whatever. And then there was this special room that once you entered it, the
room was pitch black. The attraction for me was that everyone in there was
blind, and blind was the accepted norm. For lack of anything else to do, I
started hanging around this dark room. Mostly I just guided people through when
they got lost; they never knew I was any different from themselves. However,
sometimes I had a little mischievous fun. Whole Families would go in there, and
when they would get together in a bunch, they would start trying to figure out
who was who, laughing and talking loud the whole time. You know, put your hand
on someone's head feel their face, and identify your little brother. I would
get mixed up in their little crowd and just not say anything. The responses
were hilarious. They would be touching each other unashamedly (after all this
was family, right?) and saying "is that you, Blake," or something like that.
Some wise guy would eventually count heads and find that their family had grown
by one. When I was asked a direct question, like "who are you" I would melt
back into the next room. The funniest part, I thought, was when they would
start getting the idea that there was a "sleeper in the wood pile" and mom or
dad would assert their authority, and, quite often blame some other kid for
being the outcast. I would usually find the smallest member of the group and
keep him close in case I needed to nudge him in between me and an angry parent.
Mostly, though, I just waited in that room listening to Jimmy Clanton sing "just
a dream" for about the thousandth time. At that time the song had no special
meaning for me, but later it would throw me into fits of teen-age lust
and love. The owner, whose name was Ralph, was a neat gruff type of guy. He
allowed me to hang around the park and that room without spending any money. He
said that my helping people through the dark room saved him the chore of having
to go in and rescue them. In fact, he would pay me some times--not in money but
cigarettes.
Finally, however, my solitary roguish games in that room ended abruptly. I was
reading the short stories of Edgar Alan Poe. Braille is a wonderful pastime in
a pitch black room. Slowly, by degrees, I became aware that there was someone
else in the room with me. They hadn't made any discernible noise, but there was
a different smell. It wasn't unpleasant, or suddenly overwhelming. I became
aware of it slowly. There was a person smell, the kind that broadcasts itself
to dogs and blind people that Man is near. There was also something else;
perhaps, the slightest hint of perfume, maybe. She, if it was a she, came into
the room, just like any tourist, and started to stumble around like she was
lost. So, I went into my superhero mode and took her by the arm to lead her
out. She grabbed me in a very inappropriate area. I let go and backed off.
This might have just been an accident but... I had heard about perverts in the
park, but had never encountered any. I mentally began to prepare my defense--
figuring that I had a distinct advantage in this room. I tried my usual fade
away in the next room, but she was there in front of me blocking my way. I
turned to another exit, and she was there, touching me again--mind you, not
sexually, but ugh teasingly. I tried standing still, not making any noise, and
she did the same. The second I moved a muscle, she grabbed me again. I was
getting desperate. We went around and around that room for about fifteen
minutes. I was completely serious; I thought I was fighting for my life. I
even tried grabbing for her, but she deftly moved aside every time. "If I let
you go, will you be my slave?" she asked. It was a girl, a kid girl about my on
age! She told me that her name was Sandy, and she was the owner's daughter. It
turned out she had a bright flashlight, and could see every move I made. I was
so overjoyed when I found out it was another kid my own age. Sandy and I became
bosom buddies that summer. We ate about a hundred pounds of cotton candy, spent
hours on the roller coaster, swings, etc. All of it was free since her Dad own
the park. Most importantly, we talked--Lord we talked--we could tell each other
anything. I found that I could tell her about the loneliness of being different.
Sandy was, a little overweight, and had very bad complexion, and was very self-
conscious about it. She was very accepting of my blindness, without ever being
taught how to be. And, hell, I didn't criticize her for her appearance. Why
should I? We got where we would do battle with other kids for territorial rights
to the park. They called us blind and ugly. They always regretted those words.
We worked well together, I was strong for my age and took wrestling at school.
Sandy was imaginative and resourceful. Our favorite weapon was snow cone juice
in a water pistol. The liquid wouldn't do any immediate damage, but the gnats
and mosquitoes that were attracted by it sure did. We couldn't win all the
battles, though. If worse came to worse, her Dad would interfere, or most of
the police that watched the park knew us and would take our side. In fact, one
of our city's finest took me home one evening after I had been bloodied over
rights to the roller coaster. Sandy and I became girlfriend/boyfriend near the
end of that summer. We even tried sex, but neither of us knew exactly what to
put where. We decided we would rather eat cotton candy. Her Dad, realizing
that we wouldn't remain ignorant very long, started finding things for her to do
when I was around, so we didn't have as much time together as we would have
liked. When I returned home to prepare to go back to school, we swore to be
faithful, and that as soon as we grew up, we would get married. I couldn't
explain to my Mother that indeed I had grown up a little in her absence, but I
think she understood. That fall when I went back to the school for the Blind,
Sandy and I corresponded for a while, but we each got interested in other things
and other people, and never saw each other again.
I went back to the park a couple of years later, and found that it was under the
ownership of someone else. He said that he thought the previous owner had died
of cancer, and that his family had moved away to Nebraska. Though I never saw
Sandy again, I will remember that summer of the "blind and ugly" as a time when
I found one of the truest friends I ever had.
Current Mood: 
nostalgicCurrent Music: just a dream 
relaxed
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curious