People with Disabilities Take the Stage Tomorrow at Chicago’s Victory Gardens Theater

Public speaking comes fairly easy to me. Acting on stage does not. But that’s exactly what I doing at Chicago’s Victory Gardens Theater, 2433 N. Lincoln Avenue t,omorrow August 13. at 2:30 p.m.

My class: (Clockwise - Andrew Lund, Beth Finke, Kathleen Guillion, Rukmini Girish, Michele Lee,, Whitney the Seeing Eye Dog, Grishma Shah) Courtesy Neo Futurists.

My class: (Clockwise – Andrew Lund, Beth Finke, Kathleen Guillion, Rukmini Girish, Michele Lee,, Whitney the Seeing Eye Dog, Grishma Shah) Courtesy Neo Futurists.

Some back story. Earlier this year I attended one of two accessible performances of Too Much Light put on by the Neo-Futurists. The Neo-Futurists are a collective of Chicago writers-performers “dedicated to creating honest, unpredictable theatre,” and in Too Much Light productions cast members attempt to perform a perpetually rotating list of two-minute plays in 60 minutes.

After the success of their two accessible performances this year those honest and unpredictable Neo-Futurists took things one step further. They used funds from grants they’d received from The Chicago Community Trust and Alphawood Foundation Chicago, and teamed up again with the Victory Gardens Access Project, to offer their popular “Intro to Too Much Light play writing program” in a class accessible to performers and writers with and without disabilities. The class was offered free of charge. I couldn’t resist.

The hope was that half of the participants would identify as having a disability. The Neo-Futurists achieved their goal. In fact, we outnumber the others: of the seven performers, Two use wheelchairs, I am blind, and one uses a prosthetic arm.
Over the course of ten three-hour sessions every Saturday (we started on June 4, 2016) the seven of us have:

  • explored the process and tools needed to create a two-minute play
  • followed the Neo-Futurist tenets of honesty, brevity, audience connection and random chance to write plays from our own life experiences
  • examined specific play formulas and styles that are similar to plays performed in Too Much Light
  • pitched a few of our plays to teachers to have them choose which ones would be performed tomorrow

These productions used to be called Too Much Light Makes the Baby Go Blind. I’m not sure that they took the Blind word out because I am involved, but I must say, I prefer the shortened title.

And while we’re mentioning that blindness of mine, I need to tell you that losing my sight some twenty-odd years ago left me with a unique version of paranoia. While I don’t mind people looking at or listening to me when I’m sitting or standing still (like when I’m giving a talk), the thought that people might be watching me attempt a task — even one as simple as finding a doorknob — fills me with anxiety.

I started waking up Saturdays wondering why the heck I signed up for this thing. The commute to Victory Gardens isn’t easy, days off work are precious, I stink at memorizing lines, and I hate having people watch me perform.

I liked learning about play writing, though, and every week I grew more fond of our teachers and my classmates. Most of them have acted before. It was a treat to experience their work, and hear it improve from week to week.

I stayed in class, and was determined to keep news of this tomorrow’s performance a secret from my friends. But then last Saturday we had our dress rehearsal.

That's me in the spelling bee piece.

That’s me in the spelling bee piece.

I have speaking parts in a play one classmate wrote about a spelling bee and in one another classmate wrote about a trip overseas. Whitney does not have a speaking part (Seeing Eye dogs are not allowed to bark). She plays a major role in a play I wrote about the internship at Easterseals Headquarters that led to the job I do here now, so her name is in the program on the cast list: she’s Whitney the Seeing Eye dog.

The four of us with disabilities wrote some plays that address accessibility, and many others that don’t mention it at all. One thing the plays have in common? They’re all pretty good.

So, I changed my mind. Everyone should come tomorrow.

The performance tomorrow won’t go any longer than 45 minutes and will feature live captioning and American Sign Language for people who are hard of hearing and audio headphones for people who want the action on stage described. Victory Gardens is wheelchair accessible, and a touch tour of the stage and props will take place ahead of the show at 2 pm for anyone interested.

The play starts at 2:30 tomorrow, so if you live anywhere near Chicago please come experience it for yourself. No need to RSVP, and no need for tickets, either: it’s free!


Become a part of the Easterseals advocacy family

Easterseas Nevada delegation meeting with Rep. Dina Titus in her office in Washington DC.

Easterseas Nevada delegation meeting with Rep. Dina Titus in her office in Washington DC.

Easterseals is proud of our long history as a leading advocate for people with disabilities at the federal and state level. We have a great team in Washington, but the real power of Easterseals advocacy is the voices of people with disabilities, families, staff and supporters that we are able to rally to help educate legislators about the needs of people with disabilities. In this election year, and every year, it is critical that the needs of people with disabilities are kept front and center in policy debates.

We need your help. One of the best ways you can help Easterseals be a voice for people with disabilities is to sign up here to get Easterseals alerts and join Easter Seals’ advocacy network. You can help by asking your friends and family to sign up to be a part of the network as well.

By becoming a part of the network, you will get the latest news on issues affecting people with disabilities and access to easy-to-use on-line alerts that let you get timely information to members of Congress.

You will also get a copy of the monthly policy update that we provide to all Easterseals affiliates. Our monthly Washington Updates highlight policy activities in Washington, D.C. that affect people with disabilities.

I promise you won’t be overwhelmed with messages, and I also promise you will be an important part of protecting the independence of people with disabilities — thank you for your support.


Pokémon Go Helps Brothers with Autism Connect with Their Community

Brothers with autism Justin and Ryan

Left Photo: Justin (left) and Ryan (right). Middle Photo: Infamous Pokemon ball. Right Photo: Justin (left) and Ryan (right).

At the beginning of July, you may have noticed an unusual number of people navigating through neighborhoods with their phones held high, laser-focused on their screens, cheering “Gotcha!” and making flocks of pigeons everywhere flee in a panic. It’s all because of Pokémon Go, a free augmented reality game where players use their phones to search for and catch Pokémon all over the world.

Recently, the game has garnered a lot of attention in the media, both positive and negative. One of the positive aspects of the game – and an aspect that especially excites us – is the way people with autism spectrum disorder and other disabilities are connecting with the game.

Theresa Forthofer, President and Chief Executive Officer of Easter Seals DuPage & Fox Valley, and mom of three to Ryan, Emily and Justin, has seen this connection firsthand. Her two sons, Ryan (23) and Justin (16), both have autism spectrum disorder and myotonic muscular dystrophy (MMD). Typically, they enjoy playing video games with each other and hanging out indoors, but since downloading Pokémon Go, Theresa noticed that the boys enjoy heading outdoors and are making friends in the neighborhood.

Ryan first downloaded the app onto his iPhone after hearing about it from his personal support worker and shared the game with Justin.  Later, when their grandfather announced that he would be taking the dog for a walk, Justin and Ryan were eager to join him, hoping to find those elusive Pokémon on the one-mile trek to the park. Theresa called this change in the boys’ routine and behavior nothing short of “miraculous”.

Easter Seals DuPage & Fox Valley Occupational Therapist, Brittany Diasio, finds the game is helping children and adults with important judgement and spatial awareness skills too. “Being aware of the space around you, while interacting within the app to navigate new areas, are great skills for all to work on. It takes judgement to know when to cross the street at the right time and the spatial awareness to understand your relationship with objects around you, including Pokémon.”

Soon after their first trek with the game, Ryan and Justin joined about a dozen kids in their

neighborhood on a collective hunt for Pokémon. They spent two hours roaming through backyards in the hot summer sun playing and chatting about their recent captures.

“For them to be part of something fun like that was pretty unique,” Theresa said. “It’s exciting and inspiring because it’s an opportunity to show our neighbors that Ryan and Justin like a lot of the same things they do, but they may not be able to do everything in the same way.”

The first week was literally game-changing for Ryan and Justin as they began to interact with the people

around them, and Theresa and her husband encouraged their sons to go out and “catch em’ all”, downloading the game themselves.  The family fun has continued since then, with the game playing a key role in the boys’ interaction on a recent family camping trip.

“[Pokémon Go] gives them an ability to relate to their peers and everyone around them in a really fun, natural way,” Theresa said. “It’s easy to accept differences when you have something in common. Pokémon brings that common element into play.”


Fashion’s newest frontier? According to the New York Times, it’s people with disabilities

Erin Hawley talks fashion.

Erin Hawley talks fashion.

When I was a little girl, I wanted to be a fashion designer. I’d draw the kind of dresses and chic ensembles that I wanted to wear — outfits that I would probably never see in stores for people like me. Finding accessible styles that worked with my body shape and wheelchair use was always a problem.

As an adult, I still have trouble finding age-appropriate clothing that fit my small frame and appeal to my personal style. I’m 32 years old, and I don’t want to wear Elsa and Anna t-shirts (even though I love Frozen).

While I never realized my dream of fashion design (my professional interests lead me elsewhere), I still hold on to that desire of making clothes that work for me. And not just for me, but for thousands of other people with disabilities who have trouble accessing fashion. A recent New York Times article examines some positive trends in the design world. The article explains how designers are only recently taking notice of the need for accessible, stylish fashion for people with disabilities. An excerpt:

Solving for the disabled and the displaced has in many ways been the final frontier.
Though advances in medical technology and legislation have created situations in which people with long-term conditions are increasingly able to be part of the work force and quotidian life, the implications — they need clothes that allow them to do so while also accommodating their physical reality — have taken a while to sink in.

Modified clothing has been out there for some time, but the styles are usually expensive, hideous, in limited production, or a combination of all three. It’s hard to find items with magnetic snaps, comfortable seams, elastic waists, or sensory-friendly wear.

Folks with disabilities and their loved ones are sometimes forced to come up with fashion hacks to make styles work for them. But those work-arounds expose ways big-name designers can make their designs for a broader audience. I believe it is important for us to showcase those adaptations, and for designers to reach out into the disability community for ideas.

What we need are commercial styles that appeal to a wide-range of personal clothing preferences; this desire was highlighted during Easterseals Thrive’s disability and fashion chat on July 20.

Our discussion that day on what it means to be a fashionista in a society that doesn’t always consider the accessibility of style was eye-opening and clear in its overall theme — people with disabilities want to look and feel good in what we wear and how we express ourselves. We should have the ability to share our personalities with the public in what we put on our bodies, but right now, we are limited in our choices.

What I took away from that New York Times article is the way industry is slowly including accessibility seamlessly into their work. Designers should consider disability not as an afterthought, but as an integral part of their design process; I made the same case in my Pokemon GO blog post last month about accessible technology.

While certain stores or designers understand this need, there is still a long way to go before we see accessible styles in every mannequin display. I hope one day fashion will truly be for everyone.


Entertainment That’s Helping Society Gain New Perspective on Disability


Easterseals CEO Randy Rutta and TV producer Jonathan Murray.

I’m pleased to co-author a piece today, on the 26th anniversary of the Americans with Disabilities Act, with award-winning television producer and friend of Easterseals, Jonathan Murray. Jon is credited with inventing the modern reality television genre. His critically acclaimed series, Born This Way, returns for a second season tonight on A & E. Read the post in its entirety on my Huffington Post blog.

This is the true story of seven friends, navigating the typical trials and tribulations of young adulthood—from first kisses and signing a lease to landing that big job. They also happen to have Down syndrome.

And they’re thriving. They’re leaving their childhood homes, holding jobs, starting families and living their best lives. This isn’t radical thinking. It isn’t inspiring. It’s just reality.

friends laughing

The second season of “Born This Way” starts tonight on A and E.

And it’s a reality 1 in 5 people in our communities are living. Although disability is a normal part of life—touching us all at some point—there’s a significant need for stories that amplify the voices of this population. Not just to reflect the diverse society we live in, but to also promote social change

For example, many people in the disability community want and are capable of jobs and independence. Yet, the unemployment rate among Americans with disabilities is nearly twice that of people without disabilities. The disability community is an untapped resource for businesses looking for skills-based, work-ready employees. Can the entertainment industry help society get past the stigma and gain a new perspective about people with disabilities and their potential? Read more…



We’ve come a long way, baby — the ADA turns 26 on Tuesday

Blind justiceI started losing my eyesight in 1984, when I was 25 years old. At first I didn’t use a white cane or a guide dog. I quit driving or riding my bike, but I could still see well enough to walk to my job as the Assistant Director of the Study Abroad Office at a Big Ten university.

Most of my work back then involved counseling college students on study abroad options — I could have done that with my eyes closed! As my eyesight got worse, though, I started making mistakes in the office. I still remember spilling grounds all over the floor on my way to make the morning coffee. I had to sit close to my computer screen to see the words. I ran into tabletops.

At some point my boss took me aside and told me I wouldn’t be going to the annual convention with my colleagues. “You’ll embarrass the office,” she said. Months later, my contract was terminated.

The Americans with Disabilities Act (ADA) celebrates its 26th anniversary tomorrow, July 26, 2016. The landmark federal legislation was passed five years after I lost that job. Designed to improve access to services and employment opportunities, it was intended to eliminate illegal discrimination and level the playing field for people like me who live with disabilities.

I am totally blind now, and I use speech software to moderate this blog for Easterseals. I’ve had two books published, and have another one on the way. I record pieces for public radio from time to time, and I lead four different memoir-writing classes for older adults in Chicago every week.

It’s true we have a long, long way to go before hiring practices are totally fair to those of us who can’t see, use wheelchairs, or have a myriad of other disabilities. Things are moving in the right direction, though, and thanks to the wisdom and determination of the many people who banded together to get the ADA passed 26 years ago, we have the law on our side.


How would you dress if you couldn’t see yourself in the mirror?

Easterseals Thrive hosted Twitter chat about disability and fashion on Wednesday, and it was a lively discussion. Thanks to all who participated! Speaking of fashion –here’s my take on it as a person who is blind.

I feel good in this outfit. My Seeing Eye dog Whitney likes the fur coat she is wearing, too.

I was 26 years old when I lost my sight. A Vietnam Veteran who was blinded in a military training accident was assigned to teach me how to cook.

A friend who visited me at Braille Jail (that’s what I called the facility I was sent to in order to learn new blind skills) told me what this teacher looked like. “That guy? He has long sideburns and long hair. Bell bottoms!” my friend said. “He looks like a rock and roller from the 70s!”

The year was 1985. I was horrified.

I started fidgeting with the buttons on my denim jumper, wiggling my toes against the flat cotton shoes on my feet. These clothes I’d bought when I could see would wear out sometime. What would I replace them with? Would I forever DRESS as if it were 1985?

We didn’t have much money back then, but my husband Mike saw to it from the start that I shop at the most expensive and exclusive clothing store in town. My first time there, I paraded out of the dressing room in a tight pair of leggings. The store owner gasped. “Oh, honey – you’ve got some big hips!” Now here was a woman I could trust.

I’ve never put on leggings again, but most of the clothing I wear comes from smaller boutique-type stores. I get to know the store owners and staff and trust them to be honest about what looks good on me –and what doesn’t.

Shopping online is cheaper, I know. A computer screen doesn’t allow a person to feel a piece of clothing, though, and I choose what I wear by how the fabric feels — and I feel — when I wear it.

People with disabilities get stared at. I can’t see the stares, but I sure can feel them. And as long as they’re watching, I want to look good.

Apparently, I do. That’s what people tell me, at least. And Without being able to look in a mirror and judge for myself, I have the luxury of believing them.


Pokémon Go a no-go for some people with disabilities

Erin Hawley, our own digital content producer for Easterseals Thrive, today shares with us one perspective on the latest Pokémon Go gaming craze.  While it’s certainly bringing people together to socialize and game in a new and exciting way, her astute analysis points out that  parts of the game are not accessible to people with physical challenges.  

Easterseals often consults with companies to help them make their products more accessible because we find that an inclusive development approach results in better products overall.  What do you think?  We are eager to be a part of a conversation to more directly connect people with disabilities to the companies that make the things they use… that we all use.   Our hope is that this will lead to better, more accessible products, technologies and experiences, and ultimately advance true inclusion.

By Erin Hawley


Erin Hawley

I was excited for a new, free Pokémon game — until I realized it wasn’t accessible.

I don’t begrudge anyone their fun with Pokémon Go. It’s a good way to get folks out and around in their community if they have the ability to do so. Seeing strangers bond over a shared interest is fantastic. Some have said it helps with their mental and emotional well-being. But developers are ignoring a significant portion of gamers: people with disabilities. Inaccessible games are nothing new (listen to me talk about it), but we can’t accept the status quo when it increasingly and continually marginalizes us.

So, what makes Pokémon Go not accessible for me and other disabled users?

While I have the ability to leave my house, it is difficult to navigate the community in a wheelchair. Cracked concrete, lack of curb cuts and sidewalks, stairs, steep hills, dirt roads, rocky roads, sand — it’s all here, and it’s all an obstacle or completely impassable. I can’t get to that hotspot on the beach or on a hill. I can’t drive, and I rely on others for transportation — meaning I don’t get out much. I can’t go out at all on my own. I can’t carry my phone and use it independently outdoors, unless there is a table — and those things don’t grow on trees. I can’t hold the phone up to take a picture or look at what I’m doing. Add in anxiety and chronic pain, and it’s a mess.

I’ve caught a total of two Pokémon — one at home, and one at a restaurant. I haven’t left my house in five days, and I used the only incense available. There have been no recent Pokemon sightings around here since then. While many folks can walk around to up their XP, incubate eggs, and go to gyms, I’m sitting here feeling like a nerd outsider.

Of course, my individual access needs are not the only problem. There are articles out there about the developers’ silence on accessibility, about lack of VoiceOver access for blind users, and a heap of other concerns. Mine isn’t an isolated incident.

How can developers at Niantic meet these access needs? As with all accessibility, one size doesn’t fit all. Disabled gamers have myriad needs and different ways of playing/modifying their gaming experience. But start with something like free incense, allowing your character to virtually travel, and allowing VoiceOver access. What about in-game tutorials and text-to-speech? The only way we’ll get changes is if developers work with us.

Making games accessible for more people needs to start at the beginning, not as an afterthought. It starts at home, where we teach our children about disability, or where we do not harm disabled children through exclusion or oppression. It starts through education and empowering disabled children to design and develop their own gadgets or games. And it starts by collaborating with individuals who have disabilities in all areas of technology, from programmers to play-testers.

Some may say “it’s only a game” – but those saying that probably have the abilities needed to play. Yeah, it’s “only a game,” like that restaurant with stairs is “only a place to eat,” or that doctor’s office without accessible exam tables is “only a place to better your health.” Disabled people face access barriers all the time. When our methods of fun and relaxation are also blocked, it’s a hard pill to swallow.

We can’t dismiss topics like accessible gaming as frivolous, or worry that discussions like this one detract from “real issues.” The means by which disabled individuals access cultural trends or activities is crucial to disability justice. Housing, medical care, physical care, and access to voting and food are extremely important topics. But so is access to entertainment. To suggest otherwise is to make us the Other, as though we don’t deserve to have fun because we are disabled; as long as we can eat, sleep, and breathe, that should be enough.

We are part of society. One thing we need, as a worldwide community, is to dismantle how we view disability, accessibility, and technology. We also have to look at this from an inter-sectional lens; class, race, ethnicity, and gender all factor into technological and gaming accessibility.

Here’s hoping the developers of Pokémon Go take notice and join the disabled community in a conversation about accessibility. We gotta catch ‘em all, too, right?

This post was originally published on Erin’s Gimpy Geek blog.


And… go! Adapting Improv and learning your lines

In a play writing post we published here last month I promised a second post with more details on my failed attempt to memorize and perform a monologue without being able to see the script – or the audience.

I wrote my two-minute dog monologu on my talking computer, then listened to it line by line and repeated the lines one at a time onto a voice recorder. Throughout the week I’d listen to the recording, and I made a special point to do so before swimming laps for exercise. That way I could rehearse underwater, too.

And still, I arrived at class the next week feeling uneasy, and, of course, I flubbed my lines. So. Is it more difficult to memorize a script when you can’t read print? Would reading my monologue over and over throughout the week (rather than listening to it) have made my memorization efforts more of a success?

I don’t know.

The next class went much better. We didn’t have to hand in that assignment, we just had to perform it. The teachers wouldn’t have my script in front of them. They couldn’t know if I was memorizing or ad-libbing. Performing my piece in class that Saturday was far less nerve-racking.

Our homework that week was to choose a famous book or play or movie, write a two-minute interpretation of that work, and perform it as a play in class. The play could be a one-person show or we could ask fellow students to take parts, too.

Our class is studying the Too Much Light (TML) style. We’re creating very short minimalist plays. No costumes (actors just wear their street clothes) and no elaborate set design. Each short play starts by announcing the title and saying, “Go!” Plays end by simply calling out “Curtain!”

A teacher sat next to me to describe the action when my classmates performed their pieces Saturday. I was one of three classmates helping one writer perform his interpretation of Batman, another enlisted other students to perform her piece on Harry Potter.

I was born to play the part. Here I am with friends at a high school costume party in 1976 -- we're dressed as the characters from Wizard of Oz.

I was born to play the part. Here I am with friends at a high school costume party in 1976 — we’re dressed as the characters from Wizard of Oz.

My favorite was the two-minute interpretation of the movie Titanic: It opened with a woman sitting in a chair with her back to us, hugging herself, moaning and making kissy sounds throughout the entire two-minute play. This was a minimalist portrayal of a character making out with someone non-stop. A second actor would periodically approach the make-out artist, nudge her chair and say, “Hey!” You know, like, “Hey – I’m out here!” The make-out artist wouldn’t even look, just simply shake her off.

The actor doing the nudging happens to use a wheelchair, which, to me, made the scene even more effective. She’d roll away, come back, nudge the make-out artist’s chair, say “Hey!” and be shaken off, then roll away and come back and say “Hey!” Over and over again.

Finally the nudger showed up with a water pitcher in her lap. This time, after saying “Hey!” she poured the pitcher of water over the make-out artist’s head. “Curtain!” There you have it: The make-out artist portrayed Kate Winslett’s character in Titanic, the nudger played the iceberg, and the entire movie that won an Oscar for best picture in 1997 was over in two minutes.

I chose The Wizard of Oz, figuring I could be Dorothy, and my Seeing Eye dog could play Toto. Our TML teachers had urged us to consider the theme of the work we’d be interpreting, so my free time the week before was spent pondering no place like home, the ruby slippers, clicking three times, and Dorothy’s dance segments with the scarecrow and the Tin Man.

Which led me to wonder: Why didn’t Dorothy dance with the cowardly lion? And that’s when it came to me. The Wizard of Oz as a night at a dance club. My class mates and teachers liked the idea and had plenty of recommendations afterwards of ways to enhance the script and my performance. I’ll end this post now with my original script. Enjoy!

Scene opens with me talking to Seeing Eye dog Whitney as we walk on stage, my feet obviously hurting.

Me: Man, she really was a witch, wasn’t she?

We stop in front of the stage, facing the audience.

Me: These shoes are killing me.

I lean down to adjust them, get a kiss from my dog and stay down there to talk with her face to face.

Me: We leave the farm, head to the city, try to meet Mr. Right, and jeez. The first guy was nice and all, but boy was he dumb. The second one was so stiff, and that third guy, what a chicken. God these shoes hurt.

I fumble with the shoes and finally stand up again to face the audience.

Me: These damn shoes! They’re so tight they won’t come off…

I run the heel of one shoe off the other, obviously struggling to get that one shoe off, to no avail.

me, grunting: One!

I run the heel of the second shoe off the first shoe, obviously struggling to shove that second shoe off, to no avail.

me, grunting again: Two!

I repeat with the first shoe, trying one last time, obviously struggling, to no avail.

me, grunting again: Three!



Book review: Robert Kurson’s Crashing Through

It’s not uncommon for strangers, friends, and family to ask our guest blogger BlindBeader if, given the opportunity, she would choose to get her sight back. At this moment, science has not addressed curing the causes of BlindBeader’s sight loss. For her, at least for now, the question is moot. She couldn’t deny her sense of curiosity, however, and just finished reading a book about a true story of the uncommon transition from blindness to sight. Here’s her review.

by BlindBeader

Book coverBlinded at age three, Mike May defied expectations by breaking world records in downhill speed skiing, joining the CIA, and becoming a successful inventor, entrepreneur, and family man. He had never yearned for vision.

Then, in 1999, a chance encounter brought startling news: a revolutionary stem-cell transplant surgery could restore May’s vision. The procedure was filled with risks, some of them deadly, others beyond May’s wildest dreams. There were countless reasons for May to pass on vision. He could think of only a single reason to go forward. Whatever his decision, he knew it would change his life.

Beautifully written and thrillingly told, Crashing Through: A true Story of Risk, Adventure, and the Man who Dared to See is a journey of suspense, daring, romance, and insight into the mysteries of vision and the brain. Robert Kurson gives us a fascinating account of one man’s choice to explore what it means to see — and to truly live.

Touching All the bases

This book is a combination of autobiography and scientific exploration of vision. Kurson’s look into Mike May’s life — both pre- and post-surgery – is effectively drawn. With a journalist’s precision, he details the chemical reaction that caused Mike’s blindness, the uphill battle his mother fought to admit him into a public school, and Mike’s struggles and successes in his personal and professional life.

When Mike begins to become accustomed to his vision, it’s not all sunshine and roses; sometimes it’s incredibly frustrating to go along that journey with May and Kurson. Much of the latter third of the book details the scientific research that helped explain what he could see and why other visual input was so challenging.

Mike May: A Blind Man who can See

Kurson shies away from characterizing Mike as an angel or hero or otherwise “super blind man.” Sure, he did a lot of exciting and great stuff with his life, but it’s not framed as “despite his blindness, he…” Mike May’s curiosity of the world in his childhood and early adulthood set the stage for him to embrace the challenge of vision, and the author draws this out with particularly nuanced emphasis.

Mike May now has good vision, but it is clear that he cannot process what he is seeing the way a fully sighted person can; he is, effectively, a blind man who can see.

It is clear that Mike May was intimately involved in the creation of this book, something that’s quite rare for blind subjects of biographies written by sighted authors.

Some Drawbacks

I personally found it incredibly disconcerting that during the entirety of the book, Mike May was referred to as “May.” The reason for this is unclear to me, but even in incredibly moving descriptions of discovering new things he could see, or describing some of the challenges he faced, having him referred to as “May” made it almost seem clinical and removed.

Some of the scientific data, while fascinating, could have been included in smaller portions throughout the book, rather than all in one chunk (though I do realize that much of the scientific data Mike May discovered at a particular time in his “vision journey”). I don’t know if there’s any way to make both biography and science lovers happy, but this review is my own.


If you’ve ever wondered what it’s like to receive vision after nearly a lifetime of blindness, this book chronicles one man’s journey well. It’s not always necessarily a happy story, but it’s an important one.

After reading this book, I still hold the same opinion on restoring or improving my vision given the chance, but that opinion is still my own. If surgery is the answer for some, that’s terrific; if not, that’s OK, too. But Robert Kurson and Mike May have given me much food for thought.

BlindBeader is a gifted young writer who lives in Edmonton, Alberta, with her husband, 3 cats and guide dog Jenny. You can read a longer version of this review – along with her many other thought-provoking posts — on her Life Unscripted blog.