Tonight on my way home from church, I thought of Paul, the older blind man I met in September on the train to Grand Central Station. He got on the train at Scarsdale if I remember correctly; his seeing-eye dog, a sweet black labrador, led the way onto the train from the platform and immediately started sniffing/looking about for a free seat. I was minding my own business when suddenly I felt a nudge under my right armpit (I was sitting in an aisle seat). It was a dog, but not just any dog. I was about to give up my seat when I saw that the seat opposite me was free, and the seeing-eye dog discovered that too. So they took that seat. When the conductor came around asking for tickets, Paul showed him his wallet, which must have contained some sort of monthly pass. The dog was at his feet, not blocking the aisle. It was apparent that they trusted each other and that they had traveled on the train before since the dog knew what to do.
I didn't find out the man's name until we exited the train. I waited until most of our compartment had emptied out, and then I followed Paul and his dog off the train. I knew that he was going to wait for an MTA train rep to come and guide him to his connecting train because I heard him telling the conductor that he needed that kind of assistance. The conductor said he would arrange it. But I had already decided that I was going to wait with him until the rep showed up, if he wanted me to, because I wasn't sure how long it would take for the rep to arrive. Once we had exited the train, I spoke to Paul and told him that I would wait with him until the rep showed up if he wanted me to, and he said yes and thanked me. He asked me my name and I told him, and he told me his name was Paul. At this point the dog was sniffing and licking my fingers, so it was apparent that he trusted me. Paul commented on the similarity of our names--Paul and Paula--and that it was unusual. It was for sure. It was almost as though our meeting was meant to happen.
I have a soft spot in my heart for the blind, I always have. I remember my mother telling us children that her mother went blind in her old age, probably from glaucoma, since there was no treatment for it back in the 1940s (her mother died in the early 1950s). My mother lived with her mother and took care of her until her death. She told us that they would walk to church together, my mother guiding her along the sidewalk. Sometimes the events that occurred were humorous, other times not. My mother seemed to take it all in stride, as did her mother. I know people now who are losing their vision, or who had neurological diseases that robbed them of their sight. Macular degeneration, glaucoma, retinitis pigmentosa. It must be difficult to have spent most of your life seeing, and then suddenly lose your vision when you get old. Luckily our society has organizations that help the blind. I support those organizations, one of which is the Norwegian Association Of The Blind (Norges Blindeforbund). They recently built a new school for the training of seeing-eye dogs.
I'm glad I met Paul and his dog. It made my day. A sweet moment in time that touched my heart for always.
