Guest Blogs and Featured Spotlights, Kerry's Causes, Memoir Monday, The Redefining Disability Awareness Challenge

I can See! I can see!

Spring has sprung!

Well, almost nearly.

Even so, I am loving the talk of blooming cherry blossoms, tulips, and just the other night it was another blood moon and short eclipse.

April is daffodil month.

April showers. Bring on the rain.

Another Memoir Monday and edition of,

The Redefining Disability Awareness Challenge

In my post, from one week ago, which I fittingly called:

Social Media,

I introduced the new Facebook page.

Please feel free to join me there, where more will be introduced in the months to come by myself, Rose, and others.

There’s just a lot going on right now, as spring arrives, and always in the world of blogging.



Q: If you could “cure” the disabilities that affect your life, would you?

Why or why not?

A: Do any of you remember the Barqs Rootbeer commercial with the blind man?

Perhaps not. I searched all over YouTube and found every old Barqs commercial but the one I wanted.


Well, the blind man is offered a Barqs and, upon drinking, he proclaims:

“I can see! I can see!”

With this the other guy says:


“No. But it’s got some bite to it though.”

Funny stuff when I saw it, at the time. I quote it now and again, but it raises some interesting questions.

I like to imagine I were the one taking a drink of pop one day and suddenly I am able to see, just like the commercial promised.


I used to answer the above question from this post with a defiant “NO” because I thought that meant I was accepting and proud of my situation and my life.

Does the fact that I have changed my tune on that mean I haven’t accepted anything after all?

I don’t know. All I know is that if I had the chance, suddenly to see, I would be a fool not to take it.

I am not talking about literally, as science stands now.

All the time I read about some new developments in the world of medicine, allowing the blind to see. I usually don’t jump at the chance because it isn’t as the headlines would make it seem.

Most times it’s speaking about some contraption or device, worn on the head, wired up and with a battery pack. It’s some pair of space-aged glasses that send some sort of signals and produce outlines or shapes, giving the wearer some kind of ability to sense objects in front of them.

This is how I see now. Anything more than that gets more complicated.

There is no pill to take and no surgery in the world can bring back the sight I used to have, let alone the sight I have never had before.

If, in some futuristic or magical moment, true and full vision were possible I would be first in line.

I won’t stand here anymore and say I am happy with my life and don’t need to be fixed or cured. I wouldn’t get in my own way like that.

If I could see things would…well, they would still be complicated as life often is, but they would be easier. It would make things a whole lot easier on myself and on others.

I could see colours again. I could see the expressions on my family’s faces.

I could drive. I could write. I could walk unassisted and unaided.

It would be easier to find employment and the job prospects would grow exponentially.

I am not too proud to say I could use the help.

Wanting that and wanting more for my life than I currently have does not mean I am not happy right now.

Being blind has taught me to appreciate things and to not take life for granted. I might not have that same perspective if it weren’t for blindness, not that I would be a bad person had I never experienced all that.

I am glad I did not have parents who couldn’t accept my disability and who went on a determined search for some magic cure. Some parents did or do just that.

I was taught to work with what I’ve got and to make the best of it. I’ve had a mostly happy life. I am lucky.

IF I could see though, I would. I would take that huge gift, if science or some other entity offered it. I would experience things I have only dreamed of.

I would take it and rush to stand in a bookstore or library, surrounded by my beloved books, of which I could finally pick up and read.

The world would look strange to me and I can’t quite imagine it, as I write this. What kind of world would that be? What would it look like to me?

I recommend a movie now, all about a man’s journey to almost having his sight back.

At First Sight: starring Val Kilmer and Mira Sorvino.

I saw it in the theatre in 1999, it struck a cord, and I have wondered seriously on the question ever since.

It’s about finding love and what two people do to stay together and to make it work.

She wants only the best for him and that, she thinks, includes helping him get his sight back.

Was it his blindness that got in the way of their happiness or the fact that she couldn’t accept him for him?

This is a question, in a way, for another time. It only demonstrates how complex it really is, to suddenly get one’s sight back.

I answer this question with a yes, while others may answer differently, but in the meantime I like commercials that can make a joke out of something so hard to fathom for anyone who has been blind all her life like I have.


Would you choose to get rid of something about yourself, anything, if you had that choice?

Why or why not?

Spread the word.

The Redefining Disability Awareness Challenge: Redefining Disability, on Facebook.

Like, like like.

Share, share, share.

And until next week:

What things are most important to you when it comes to media representation for people with disabilities or your disability in particular?


6 thoughts on “I can See! I can see!

  1. JC says:

    The song is beautiful. Haven’t seen the movie but will now.

    In answer to your question: I would choose to get rid of Parkinson’s but only if I can keep the lessons I’ve learned by having it. And there are many things I’ve learned. An intriguing question that might be a good blog post. Thank you for your post!

    • Yes, that is a beautiful song and I love the whole soundtrack.
      I would highly recommend the film. It presents some very important and interesting questions, which could be asked about any type of disability.
      I know what you mean. I wouldn’t be the person I am today if it weren’t for the blindness I’ve had to adapt for in my life. I don’t think the question has a fair or answer, is possible to answer correctly. If you ask me the same question ten years from now, who knows what my answer might be.
      This is just how I have felt lately.
      The question of whether it would be either or, sight and lack of awareness/empathy/character or blindness…well, that’s where it b becomes such a grey area.
      You should write a blog post on it. I would love to read your thoughts on Parkinson’s.
      Thank you for reading mine today and for your thoughtful comment.

  2. amybovai says:

    I love your honest answer, Kerry, and the subsequent explorations of the thought and question including what it meant to change your answer and what it didn’t mean. I, too, would definitely take my sight if it could be given again or somehow generated through science. I once thought it was possible (I was misinformed by someone who didn’t have all the facts) and drove five hours to another city thinking to have the operation that very weekend!! I dreamed in colors that evening and perfect clarity! At the appointment, when I was told, it’s not possible and with the cold words repeated, “There is no cure, but would you like get in touch with a support group?” I felt myself crashing in disappointment. I had set myself up for failure by believing in an easy fix. Since then, I’ve just continued to make the best of it, like you. But I always have an eye open to science and I would sure love it if a cure came in our lifetime! ❤
    I haven't seen that video but will look into it. Thank you for sharing it.

    • Oh Amy…so sorry that happened to you.
      My parents were practical from the time when I was a baby, but that’s a different situation entirely.
      Any glimmer of hope and I can understand why you would need to investigate further. Never give up, but live like any day could be our last, but I know missing colours is a hard thing.
      Thank you for reading.

  3. Pingback: Long Time Coming | Her Headache

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s