Listening to the gurgle of most of a bottle of Margarita Mix as I poured it down the drain might have caused extreme remorse for those who love a cocktail before dinner. But for me, it meant a wave of sadness, not because of the waste of a perfectly good adult beverage. It was the realization that my plans for having it on hand for unexpected company were just a pipe dream. There would be no company, expected or not. From the moment I heard that Covid 19 had invaded the world, I made the decision to keep myself and my friends and family as safe as possible. If that meant self-isolation, then that’s the way life would be for the duration.

Although I am totally blind, I don’t mind living alone. As an only child, I spent many hours entertaining myself, alone. I had friends in the neighborhood and at school, but if they were not available to play from time to time, I found plenty of ways to occupy myself in the afternoons until my working parents returned.

As a pre-teen, I spent my share of hours on the phone and in front of The Mickey Mouse Club, alone. As a teen, I studied dance with the fervor of a prima ballerina and would spend hours in our basement studio, practicing for a dream career in dance, alone. In college, I loved living in a dorm, because it was like having sisters. At the same time, I was thankful to have a single room. Being able to shut my door against the noise gave me not only peace, but it also gave me the privacy I needed. The clatter of my braille writer would not bother anybody, and I could use my tape recordings to help me study, alone.

Later, as a wife and mother of a son and daughter, I felt fulfilled with my busy household. Yet, after each child left for independence, and my husband and I dissolved our marriage, I found myself alone again, but not unhappy.

Then enter the pandemic. Self-imposed isolation came naturally. Previously, except for an occasional lunch out, a meeting, doctors’ appointments, or church, my days had been spent alone, with only the company of my guide dog. Life as a single blind woman who lives alone prepared me well for social distancing. Now my days are filled with correspondence via email, listening to talking books, meetings via Zoom, and cleaning out closets. I am blessed to have a friend who takes us to a park once a week to hike through woods, to break the monotony of solitude and just walking around the neighborhood. Even keeping our distance and wearing masks, having a flesh and blood person to be with, rather than a voice on a screen, is a real treat.

I pray that someday soon, I’ll buy another bottle of something fun, and we’ll celebrate by ripping off our masks and enjoying it together.

Mary Hiland

Author of

The Bumpy Road to Assisted Living: a Daughter’s Memoir

And

Insight Out: One Blind Woman’s View of Her Life

Available at www.dldbooks.com/maryhiland

www.seeingitmyway.com

We did it! Miraculously, the weather warmed up for another mild autumn day, perfect for a walk in a park. A lot of other people had the same idea, as we encountered more walkers and cyclists today than on any other park in our quest to do all 19 Metro Parks in the central Ohio area. It seemed to be a relatively new park, judging by the youth of the trees and the condition of the paved pathways. Bird houses had been constructed near the paths, but they were not the same as the ones built for Purple Martins as in other parks. The sounds of birds and small animals were missing, as it’s the time of year for either hunkering down or flying south.

The most troublesome animals were those riding atop bicycles as they whizzed past without a word of warning. Clearly, these are not the same species I’m used to riding with who call out “On your left,” as they pass another cyclist or walker on a trail.

As usual, we stopped to read the signs about the park and the benches that memorialized a loved one.

The only significant landmark was a wind turbine that at times was stock still and other times whirling around. I foolishly asked Dan to take a picture of each position, but he said it would come out looking the same in both frames. Here’s what the internet said.

“The Wind and Solar Learning Center features a 7.5 kw wind turbine and two 1.2 kw photovoltaic solar displays that are connected to generate power to a public restroom and shelter area. The center also features an interactive learning area for park visitors whom are interested in wind and solar energy.” BTW, that grammatical error was not mine.

We must have been in a different part of the park , because the visitors center was not in our view. Still, it was a lovely way to end our journey through the Metro Park system, and we did over 3.6 miles. This is not, however, the end of our walks with Dan, as he has graciously agreed to take us out on the warmer days for walks that are truly a treat for Dora as well as for me.

Mary Hiland

Author of

The Bumpy Road to Assisted Living: a Daughter’s Memoir

And

Insight Out: One Blind Woman’s View of Her Life

Available at www.dldbooks.com/maryhiland

www.seeingitmyway.com

Slate Run Park, 18 of 19

Dan and I had signed up to walk in the Friends of the Shelter event, as we had for the past 2 years. You might recall Kevin Bacon, the pig who walked with his person, whom we met in 2018. But this year, we could walk anywhere we wanted and still get the T-shirt and still benefit the injured and sick dogs in the shelter. We each paid our $35, and I bought a few raffle tickets.

Slate Run was next on our agenda, as the Kokomo and Bobolink Trails were fairly flat and grassy. Dan’s knee has still not healed, and I guess my back never will, but for now, we’re avoiding steep hills and gravel, not only for us, but also for Dora.

Our hike was the most peaceful of all so far, featuring wet lands, grasslands, and meadows, and Dan’s car was the only one in the parking lot and remained that way until we were back. It felt like we were walking through our own land, checking on the plants and birds. I guess the Purple Martins like this location, because we saw many bird condos. I wanted to check one out, but the grasses were too thick and tall to get to them, but Dan took a picture. I wondered if they were all inside, huddled against the ensuing rain. The sky was overcast, but the rain didn’t appear until after we got out of the CVS, where I had been shot, first in one arm and then the other, one for flu, and one for shingles. (BTW, have you done that yet?)

One of the most unusual features of this park was a little front porch, out in the middle of the meadow, with wicker chairs set up in a semi circle, as if for a show. And there was no house attached to the porch. It looked like a nice place to look out over the meadow and enjoy the show of the wildlife. As with many of the parks, we enjoyed walking on a board walk, if for nothing else, a change under foot. This park had a little pond too, but it definitely needed some way to aerate, as it was covered with algae.

We were out there for over 2 hours, but we somehow put in 3.4 miles. We stop a lot to take a picture, read the signs, and pause for a drink of water. Sometimes, we don’t need water, but when Dan spots a park bench, or I ask him to keep a look out for one, we take advantage of a brief rest for my back, and Dora rarely turns down a few laps out of her water bowl. In many parks, Dan also read the “dedication in memory” signs on the benches, and for a moment or two, we think about what a thoughtful way to remember a loved one it is.

One more to go to complete our mission, and then we’ll either have to find a new fitness goal or we’ll try some of the trails we missed this time around.

Mary Hiland

Author of

The Bumpy Road to Assisted Living: a Daughter’s Memoir

And

Insight Out: One Blind Woman’s View of Her Life

Available at www.dldbooks.com/maryhiland

www.seeingitmyway.com

I’ve written before about the little pleasant surprises that you would never expect from a pandemic. I won’t name them all again that I’ve noticed, but here’s one that came out of the blue for me. I read about it in a column by Michael Grossberg in The Columbus Dispatch.

Saturday night, I listened to the live streaming of a musical produced by the bright and talented vocalists at Otterbein University. I always love going to their musicals , most of which I had heard of or seen before. But “The Theory of Relativity” didn’t sound like a musical to me. Still, I was ready to give it a try, simply because it would be so easy.

I did not have to find someone to go with or to drive me there. I didn’t have to sit alone in an audience full of couples and friends enjoying the show together. I could call the box office and talk to a real person instead of having to deal with a complicated website. And the ticket was inexpensive.

I had participated in many Zoom meetings and webinars, so I was puzzled why the young woman on the phone, Elizabeth, suggested I log on as early as 7:00, even though the show didn’t start until 8:00. She explained that some people have trouble logging on, so I should feel to call her any time after 7:00, because she would be there. Well, I wasn’t going to log in that early, because I might need to do something on my computer during that hour, but I did start the process at about 7:30. I clicked on the link, but I wasn’t sure if I had to do something else, like enter the password, because my screen reader didn’t read anything to me. At 8:00, and the show hadn’t started, I called Elizabeth , and she said the show had indeed started, but she would send me another link and talk me through logging in. With her patient help and my little bit of experience, I suddenly heard music, and I was not only relieved but thrilled. I was getting to hear the clever lyrics and talented voices I had been anticipating all day. It was like I was right there in the theater, only without the thunderous applause and cheering at the end of each song. But I was comfortable in my nightgown and robe, with my dog by my side on the couch, and a cocktail in my hand. What a way to enjoy a live production by my favorite theater company.

Immediately afterward, because Elizabeth had said she would be available all evening, I sent her a note saying how much I appreciated her help and how much I enjoyed the show. I know I missed a lot without audio description, but the next step is to figure out how they can do that. Until they do, I have a very non technical solution. They could just send the link to a trained describer, who could call me on the phone, and whenever she needed to describe an action, a costume, or the set, she could tell me. So the next time they have a show, and I hear about it in time, I’ll tell them about my brilliant and simple idea. I didn’t mind not having audio description this time, but from now on, it should be quite doable.

If you love musicals as much as I do, I hope you’ll take advantage of this easy way to enjoy a show. Just think. No sold-out messages and no parking hassles. No long walks from the car, and no body tall in front of you, unless it’s your dog in your lap.

Mary Hiland

Author of

The Bumpy Road to Assisted Living: a Daughter’s Memoir

And

Insight Out: One Blind Woman’s View of Her Life

Available at www.dldbooks.com/maryhiland

www.seeingitmyway.com

The drive from my house took almost an hour, but many features of this hidden jewel in the Hocking Hills area rewarded us for the journey. With Dan’s bum knee that had put him on crutches for a while and my chronic back pain, we chose a trail that was perfectly flat, and you thought the Hocking Hills meant only hilly. Me too, but the Clear Creek Meadows Trail ran very close to a stream.

We might have been early Native Americans trail-blazing in search of food or a home, as we followed the river. But we were not alone in our quest for the perfect place to settle.

Because this day blessed us with blue skies, a playful sun that peeked through the painted leaves of fall, and the soothing sound of gentle waters trickling over the rocks , we encountered several other hikers on the trail. Dan likes to stop and admire the many varieties of asters, phlox, and sun flowers, so he had purchased an app that would help him identify plants and even insects. All he had to do was snap a picture, and the internet identified the flower. We never ceased to be intrigued with this marvelous new toy. That’s how I happened to show off my knowledge of the names of the flowers we passed along the way. It even identified the name of the moss on the tree, as shown in the photo of me touching the moss.

We often stopped, just to listen to the complete silence or to enjoy the music of the waters as they hurried along the shallow river bed. Dan took a picture of the creek as it made a left turn with Dora and me in the foreground. I could have said it was a picture of Dora and me with the creek in the background, but it really featured the creek. Another photo might have captured the meadow which was the top of the trail like a deflated balloon. Here’s where the quietude surrounded us, and where not another sole interrupted this peace. But even when we were back on the Creekside trail, the dogs on leashes and their people were polite and cheerful.

Although this trail had the most foot traffic of all the ones we’ve done so far, this was our favorite of the 17 parks we’ve done, Most of the others had at least one distinctive treasure, but the most awesome feature of this park greeted us as we entered and bid us farewell as we left. A gigantic bolder hovered above the road, ready to come crashing down any minute, so we held our breaths as we drove under it.

It was a poem of a day—one that healed my soul.

I want to end with what Dan felt about today’s adventure. “Mary, I so enjoyed our outing today! It is such a privilege to witness the relationship you share with Dora. The service she provides you and the love and affection you give to her. Such a wonderful partnership that warms my heart. The environment was glorious today. A great way to ease back into walking.” Ease? We did almost 3.5 miles.

Mary Hiland

Author of

The Bumpy Road to Assisted Living: a Daughter’s Memoir

And

Insight Out: One Blind Woman’s View of Her Life

Available at www.dldbooks.com/maryhiland

www.seeingitmyway.com