2 Angels

I can’t help wonder a bit if the arm that’s missing was the one that held the umbrella? And also… what would it be like to have your sole companion through the centuries to be a blind, deaf mute? Is there any point in complaining if no one knows?

Published by Titirangi Storyteller

Telling tales from around the world

9 thoughts on “2 Angels

      1. in real life, the deaf and blind are amazingly good companions…their take on the world is an endlessly fascinating conversation…but I take your point on the little angel. we must assume telepathy, eh?


      2. Telepathy it must be for these two – unable to even reach over and physically touch.
        It occurs to me that I have not personally known (i.e. had personal conversations) with many deaf or blind people – certainly not enough to draw any kind of statistical conclusions… that said, my ex dated a blind woman for a while that I simply loved, sharp, passionate, fiercely intelligent (emphasis on the fierce) and with a diabolical sense of humour. My husband was convinced she was not really blind, not that she was faking it, but she was definitely not missing anything – either on herself or from the world around her. She was probably the antithesis of the cemetery angel…


  1. I knew a blind man when I was a child. It prompted me to walk around his apartment with my eyes closed to try to see how he saw. Of course, my mother was scandalized and quickly put a stop to that. But the thing is, I wasn’t making fun. I really wanted to know.


    1. I imagine parents look at it more from a child-centred perspective these days – at least I hope so. I can not imagine any blind or other – heaven help me, what is the correct word these days – last I knew it was the ridiculous “differently abled” – person objecting, ever, to a child seeking to understand their experience… But I think I was told not to stare at or talk to anyone in a wheel chair or with any unusual physical property…

      The two things I could not resist staring at were heavily pregnant women (it just didn’t seem possible that something THAT size was going to come out of ‘there’) and people with goiter, which was not that unusual in Cobleskill when I was in my adolesence. I just googled that, and it’s pretty grotesque, though I remember it more like a set of ram’s testicles sprouting from the neck, almost always attaching to a morbidly obese person – and it swung fom side to side as they walked…

      I was very good at completely ignoring the girl who had the locker next to mine in junior high. She had an artificial lower arm with a metal clamping hook. Never spoke one word to her or looked her in the eye. I honestly thought it was the polite thing to do. How cruel was that?


      1. Oh yes, the “don’t stare, it’s not polite” rule. How sad for that girl and how sad for us that we didn’t know any better.

        With my ex’s brother being a paraplegic, our family has grown quite used to being around the disabled, and it has made us all much more sensitive to accessibility issues.

        “Set of ram’s testicles sprouting from the neck”–I choked on my bread. Thanks for that.


      2. A generational change with your ex-BIL. My dad had two older brothers with cerebral palsy. Both were instituationalised at birth, never even came home from the hospital. I never met the oldest one, I don’t think he ever lived in the ‘real world’ though the younger was integrated into the family as an adult – and eventually married and had a son… He was my favourite relative when I was a kid – he loved to get down on the floor and play with us, rough-house… and the normal adults would yell at us because we were going to hurt him…


      3. Sometimes, I am glad at the things that time has changed, as in the case of how we see people who are (day I say it?) different. No more closeting, institutionaliizing, hiding. Well, for the most part, anyway.

        I love my BIL. He still has a wicked wit and a keenly sharp mind. The car accident that took his mobility did not take his mind, and that is truly something for which to be thankful.


Leave a Reply

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

WordPress.com Logo

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

Twitter picture

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

Facebook photo

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

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: