My name is Bailar. Richard Bailar, or Rev. Dr. R. J. Bailar, or just plain Dick. I am 89. I was an Infantry enlisted man and officer for five years. I have been an ordained Christian minister for sixty-two years and a landowner and retired resident of Jefferson County for thirty-two years…and each passage in my life’s journey has been formative and fulfilling. And now, I am entering another passage: I am blind.
I have macular degeneration, a malady that slowly kills the eyes’ receptors that make sight possible. I have been legally blind for over seventeen years, unable to drive, but able to read and use my computer with large print and strong magnification. Unfortunately, that all ended about six months ago when the degeneration became complete and the light basically turned off. Bummer! However, thanks to a merciful and loving God, a few peripheral receptors survived the onslaught and my world is not completely black, but one of fog and shadows.
I will deal with this new passage in my life and it will take time. Something as simple as eating can be a challenge. I easily knock over a water glass or coffee cup and shoot a piece of broccoli onto someone’s lap. Eating soup with a spoon is a blind man’s nemesis. A trip to a restaurant can also be exciting. While I hang on to my beloved wife, Friedel, as she follows the maître d’ and I ricochet from table to table, maybe leaving a wake of chaos. A reception like the Chamber “Business After Five” can become a minefield as I do my Hippo Hop, bumping and spilling a lady’s wine on her dress (hope the vintage was white), and dumping a guy’s horses doovers on his shirt. At my infrequent outings, folk would come to me and say that they had not seen me around for months. My response was to ask who they were and they would respond that I had known them for years! I explain that I am blind and have not associated their shadow with a voice. Their reaction, speaking verrrry slowly and loudly (I’m blind, not deaf) is one of sorrow, often followed by the observation that my other senses will compensate for the loss of sight, although I doubt my fingers will ever see a face or my ears denote a color. But here’s the deal: if you see Friedel helping me along somewhere, please come over, tell me your name and we can reminisce and celebrate the possibilities of tomorrow. I have felt it necessary to resign from many county and community activities, but I am hopeful I will find new ways to touch lives and make this world a more gentle and happier place…and you might help me find the way. And, as the Man from Galilee said while riding a donkey over palm branches, ”Shalom, peace be with you.”