Standing in line at the service desk at Sam's Club, I became aware of a spirited conversation taking place in the line to my left. The conversation was between a tall, slender young man and the Sam's Club employee on the other side of the desk, a young, pleasant looking lady who was much shorter in height than the blond haired man.

Although I could not hear the words that were spoken, my peripheral vision enabled me to determine that there was something unusual happening in the line next to mine. Although the young man was much taller, he never lowered his head to make eye contact. She was looking up, but he was not looking down.

There was a momentary silence during which there was not the slightest bit of head movement by' the young man - it was as if he was transfixed on some distant object. He then resumed the conversation with words I could not hear, but it seemed to me that he was making some final statement to the Sam's Club employee, because he slowly turned around, joined his companions and headed toward the store exit.

As I watched the group make their way outside, the mysterious circumstances surrounding this event suddenly became clear. The young man held in his right hand a cane like long stick that was extended forward so that its end touched the floor. The cane was painted white and as he walked, he moved the cane from the left to the right, sometimes touching the shopping cart being pushed by one of his companions. The young man who had stood tall and motionless in the line next to mine was blind.

It was the kind of blindness that indicated the complete absence of any form of light; it was the kind of blindness where the retina was no longer able to receive common light patterns and transmit them to the brain; it was the kind of blindness that would prevent him from ever knowing the beauty on the face of the person with whom he has fallen in love; it was the kind of blindness that would forever keep him living in a world of total darkness.

When I saw the movement of his white cane moving endlessly back and forth, my mind focused in on what the possibilities were that one day my progressive macular degeneration would place a white cane in my hand and I would be turned loose to make my way safely through a crowded Sam's Club at Christmas time.

The frightening prospect of that kind of blindness brought me back to a more rational state of mind and thinking. Beginning with uncorrectable low vision a few years ago, my journey into the unknown has slowly but progressively taken me to the dangerously elevated visual acuity of 20/400 in both eyes.

To better understand the importance of visual acuity, my research gave me the following information: "Vision experts assess an individual's sight using two measurements: visual acuity and visual field. Visual acuity is the ability to see details, such as symbols or letters of specific sizes. Normal vision is described as 20/20. A person with any degree of sight loss has a higher second number, such as 20/200. This means that an individual with a visual acuity of 20/200 must stand at a distance of 20 feet to observe an object that a person with normal vision can see at a distance of 200 feet." This means that my visual acuity of 20/400 is about as bad as it can get for a person who is not yet walking in darkness.

However, the good news is that my journey into the unknown will not end on such a sad and hopeless note. There are other notes on the musical scale of vision that have yet to make their impact on those of us who suffer from vision impairment. The good news is there is remarkable, almost miraculous, help at every dangerous corner in the journey beginning with low vision and progressing to being visually impaired (Legal blindness). I first became aware of the new technological device and innovations when my low vision was diagnosed as macular degeneration. My doctor provided me with an attractive 98 page catalog called "Independent Living Aids."

This catalog opened up a whole new window of opportunity to obtain devices that make it possible for visually impaired people to live productive lives. I eagerly entered this world of innovative devices and I was able to obtain an electronic device that seemed to be tailor made for my needs.

The technical name for this marvelous device is CCTV (Closed-Circuit TV). Situated on a sturdy table is a digital camera mounted on a flexible arm that allows the camera to be turned in any desired direction.

When the object to be viewed is placed under the lens of the camera, it captures the image and sends it in magnified form to a 19 inch flat screen monitor. The device is capable of amplifying a screen image of 2 to 32 times its normal image. What a welcome and ingenious way to compensate for the low vision person’s inability to read small print. The availability of this remarkable device is great news for the visually impaired.

There is more good news to be found in the steady increase in the number of tools available for visual rehabilitation. A recent innovation is the voice output print scanner. The one that I have added to my collection of visual aids is called SARA - Scanning and Reading Appliance. It scans a book, document or letter into a computer and then converts the text into voice output - that is, the computer reads the material in a human voice.

These innovative devices were a godsend to me, but, in essence, they remained cold and impersonal. While exciting the mind, they failed to warm the heart as I continued my journey under the dark shadow of blindness.

Help came from an unexpected source. I received a gift from the heart in the form of a musical CD of worship and inspirational songs composed by and sung by local artist Sheri Bennet. One of the songs on the CD is called "Sail On." Sheri uses an ocean sea as a metaphor for life. Travelers on the ocean sometimes need to be rescued from dangerous situations.

The song "Sail On" paints a graphic picture of an interchange of words between a beleaguered seaman who needs to be rescued and the pilot on board a sea worthy ship. As I listened to the words of the song, something inside prompted me to take on the character of the beleaguered seaman. It became my own personal reality drama. For my own peace of mind, I needed to find relief from harmful, negative thoughts of what life would be like living in the dark shadows of legal blindness.

In Sheri's song, the helpless seaman is able to attract the attention of the Pilot whose help the seaman needs. As he waits for a reply that help is on the way, he hears these words of encouragement from the Pilot: "Sail on, sail on to me and I will be your Pilot and I will lead you on. Sail on, sail to me and I will be your Pilot and I will lead you home."

As I approach the end of my journey into the shadow land of legal blindness, I welcome the help from two different sources: (1) The help that comes from the physical world - the marvelous devices that enable me to put these words down on paper, and (2) the help that comes from the spiritual world - the help that comes from the knowledge that we do not walk alone. This is help from above - the help that encourages us to never give up, closely listening to the voice of the Pilot (God) "Sail on, Sail on to me and I will lead you home."

I am now at peace with myself and with my circumstances. I will no longer refer to myself as a blind writer; rather, I will say that I am a writer who happens to be blind.