"Cows, Bread and Autism", Bobolink's Answer To What's Cheese got to do with it?

Last Saturday, June 18th 2011, I left you dear reader, with photographs of mouth-watering cheeses, (known as Drumm and Very Special Cave-Aged Cheddar respectively), and a promise to tell you a little bit about them as well as discuss the folks that make them in today's post. So, without further ado:

I have always liked cows and goats, but having had severe allergies since childhood has caused me to admire them from afar. However, once upon a time, after being given allergy shots, I was able to get close enough to some grazing cows and photograph them, and one of the resulting images was my photographic print, Cow with Children, as seen in the first image at the top of today's blog post. This image has also been rendered into a greeting card and both are available for purchase via my web-site, Patricia Youngquist Photo-Art (patriciayoungquist.com.). For specific information on the photographic print, please click here, and for information on the note-card, please click here.

Fortunately, my allergies stop with where these animals graze, and I am able to indulge in the cheeses they produce. "You have a friend in Cheeses," (a play on words of the old time hymn, What a Friend we Have in Jesus), is a "slogan" on "base-ball-style-caps and T-Shirts that a cheese shop in the West Village of New York city sells, and today's blog post explores, a "friendship" related to cheeses which has evidently given Jacob ("Jake") White a lease on life. (More on this later.) Jake is the son of Nina and Jonathan White, who are cheese makers at Bobolink Dairy, a business that now includes rustic bread baking, and a business that they have named for the spirited bobolink song bird whose image is imprinted on the labels they use when wrapping cheeses (this can be seen in the photograph posted below) that they sell at a Greenmarket that serves Tucker Square in the Upper West Side of New York City (where I live) on Thursdays and Saturdays.

The Whites also sell their delicious products at other greenmarkets in New York City, and New Jersey (where their farm is located), as well as via their web-site, cowsoutside.com ,but it is the Tucker Square location, where I first met Nina White, pictured in the photograph posted below, where she can be seen holding a sign that usually is propped up on a table where she sells the yummy cheeses and breads.

The cheeses are seasonal, and the ones being offered at this time of year are Drumm, Very Special Caved Aged Cheddar (again both of those were pictured in last Saturday's blog entry, the other two being offered as of today's posting are Armram and Tower of Bobol as noted on the left-hand side of Ms. White's sign and pictured below respectively.

On the right-hand side of the sign, the Whites give a shout out to local growers whose ingredients they use in their bread. Local is right. Some of the growers that are mentioned also sell their products at Tucker Square. This year round  outdoor market is "the gateway to the Upper West Side" and, as per their web-site, I can attest to their fine offering of "seasonal vegetables" that "range from fresh staples to certified organic and Mexican specialties". The orchards represented at the Tucker Square Greenmarket, "boast sweet berries, stone fruit and over eighty varieties of apples." On many occasions, there are cooking demonstrations which offer unusual recipes and tastings, hence, this market is a great haven. And, like the folks who give the cooking demonstrations, Bobolink Dairy is very gracious in giving tastes of their unusual, distinctive cheeses, as well as making recommendations on what other foods would go best with the cheese of one's choice.

A unique thing about Bobolink is that not only do they offer tours of their farm, but they have internship programs which from what I've heard (straight from the mouth of an intern who moved from Oregon to the east coast to intern with the Whites) are empowering. The Whites are no strangers to the relationship between cows, cheese-making and baking, and empowerment, for these things have had a profound effect on their son Jake. As I mentioned earlier, they have given him a "new lease on life" — and a much needed one at that, for Jake, the eighteen year old son of the Whites, is autistic. I understand that "while he is quite intelligent, he has very limited speech capability, equivalent to a typical three year old." and that he is "very outgoing in matters that engage him" which apparently are "cows and baking". 

Their web-site states that "Jake seems to have a particular affinity with cows, and cows seem to respond well to him." As I read this, I thought about my image, Cow with Children (mentioned earlier in this post), an image that was created long before I had heard about Nina and Jonathan White, or tasted cheeses from their farm, Bobolink Dairy, and I thought about the unconditional love between cows and children, an observation not lost on the Whites, who also  indicate on their web-site that, in terms of Jake, the love from child-towards-cow is reciprocal: "hey they {the cows} don't even know that he has a speech handicap". 

Jake's passion for "kneading, baking, and most importantly eating baked goods" is the impetus for the Whites' recent move to a new farm. They write, "We hope to make a bright future for Jacob. In {our} extensive collection of old dairy and farm books, there are many photos of people working on farms and in cheese factories, who appear to have one learning disability or another."

The Whites take this one step further saying, "one photo that particularly comes to mind is of a young man in perhaps the 1950s, with biceps like Popeye's, operating a manual cheese press. His bright eyed, proud and smiling face belies the markers of Down's Syndrome, although their is no mention of it in the text. This young man had a good job and was proud of it. Nowadays, a Down kid or someone like Jacob is more likely to have a job putting parts in a bag on an assembly line. Agriculture and food production, in simpler times, had more room for people with disabilities. As modernity has taken its toll of the quality and flavor-fulness of food, it has also eroded the opportunities for those of us who are different."

"So, wish us well as we set out to set it right", the Whites ask. And so, with this post, I do wish the Whites well in their endeavor, for as you know dear, reader, I suffer from Neurofibromatosis Type-One as well as Legal Blindness, and  have written about this in posts which you may refer to by clicking here and here as well as here.I am painfully aware of attitudes towards disability — a word I would like to see changed to challenge. Physical challenged as opposed to disabled. Disabled is what they call stalled cars as well as stalled tractors, trucks, busses and trailers. "Disable it", is what techies and geeks tell you to do with a program in your computer when it is not functioning properly.

M y afflictions are mild compared to many folks, including some whom I knew personally including, Colleen Ormond, who died in November of 2010 from complications of her hydrocephalic condition, and my dear friend KM, who died last week after a long battle with near blindness and multiple sclerosis. (You may recall that I mentioned KM in a couple of posts this past May that you may refer to by clicking here and here (when I wrote about one of her sister's passing and now she too has passed away).

The Whites, in their unique attempt to give their son an opportunity to be the best that he can be, remind me of the mother of the dearly departed Jennifer Mahoney (who was born with Spina Bifida, and who died in an accident with her wheel chair, a fact that you may recall, dear reader, because not only was Jennifer an inspiration for my photographic work that was acknowledged by the American Printing House for the Blind, but she is someone that I have written about in a blog post which I referred to in a blog post that you can access here),  Mahoney's mother, as you may recall, spoke to me at her daughter's funeral and of her keen desire to let Jennifer live the fullest life possible, saying "I always knew that I was on borrowed time with Jennifer." 

And so as I conclude today's post, I hope you will indulge me in re-posting the image of Jennifer, 

who embraced life, but realized attitudes were the disability, and did not hesitate to voice her position, leaving a legacy at Hunter College where she was receiving her education before her untimely death. Now, perhaps, Jacob ("Jake") White —even with limited speech — will be able to leave a legacy through his work on the Bobolink Farm, which not only produces great cheeses and amazing breads to feed the body, but provides opportunities to nourish the soul and confidence of the physically and mentally challenged.

    

Dearest Tulip, Even you could not console Sylvia Plath . . .

These three wide mouthed tulips that are at the northeast portion of my urban terrace garden have just opened up, and in doing so they have brought to my attention the fact that a  white tulip that is directly across from them, in the southeast corner of my terrace garden, has posted a blog entry voicing his concerns about Sylvia Plath's poem, Tulips. This poem, as you may recall, was posted by yours truly a little over a week ago, and if you'd like to refer to it, please click here.




Apparently this tulip (and apparently wannabe-blogger,) who resides in a lovely bowl supported by a unique rod iron stand, and now has company because his friends have just started to open, (as seen in the photograph posted below). was a little distressed at Ms. Plath's imagery in likening the tulip's opening to "the mouth of an African cat" and was insulted that the "tulips ate her oxygen", when really all the tulips probably wanted to do, my tulip explained to me today, in earnest, was to cheer her up, make her well again.

I tried to tell my tulip that humans are complicated, and sometimes, when they are in despair, they want and feel the need to stay in a bad state. I let my tulip know that if I knew why this was so, I would be earning a much better wage than I am now. My tulips know I love them because I give them great care, and surround them with beautiful friends, as evidenced in the aerial photograph, which was taken by Juan V yesterday and is posted below. (The vantage point is the roof of the building where I live, which is the only way anyone can look down on my entire garden unless they live in one of the surrounding high rise buildings.)

However, I did explain to the tulip that when a human is in despair, such as Sylvia Plath was, it does not matter to them whether they are cared for or not, nor does having material things matter. The only thing people in a state of depression want is what Ms. Plath stated, "I didn't want flowers, I only wanted to lie with my hands turned up and utterly empty".

I also confided in my tulip, telling him that there was a time when I did not want to be consoled with flowers. Tulips in fact. The tulips that grew alongside of the house where I grew up. The tulips that my grandmother wanted me to enjoy when I was eleven years old, but, at that time, I preferred to stay in my bedroom with an air-conditioner on to block out the chirping birds, and with room darkening shades pulled all the way down, as far as they could go, and, with the little bit of light that seeped in, I would lie in bed — instead of going to school or learning to do pirouettes in dance class as my sisters were doing — and watch a bug crawl in and out of a small hole in the wall. 



I did not want tulips. I wanted the neurofibromas that were multiplying on my torso, scalp and face to disappear (which were a result of my Neurofibromatosis condition (a condition which I blogged about some time ago). I also wanted to see without needing glasses that caused the kids at school to call me Coke-Bottles, but, most of all, I wanted my father to move back home so that my mother would stop crying and crying, and I truly believed that if my father saw how ill and sad I was, he'd move back, and we'd be a happy family again.




But the years came and went, he did not move back, and I did not go outside to look at our tulips nor did I go to school much, preferring to stay and watch that bug  crawl in and out of the small hole in my bedroom wall — in the safeness of my darkroom —  than face the stigma of my having lumps and bumps brought on by my having neurofibromatosis, nor did I want to face the taunting that occurred due to my thick glasses to assist me in my extreme myopia, nor did I want to face the stigma of being a child of divorce (which was huge back in the day), and I certainly did not want anyone to give me tulips — or any other flower — and pretend that everything was all right.




Today, I rejoice with my flowers, appreciating their beauty and appreciating the fact that I can enjoy them after so many dark years. I am luckier than Sylvia Plath, dearest tulip, because she ultimately gave in to despair, dying from suicide: and so you see, my sweet tulip, even you could not console Sylvia Plath. 

Index Cards

According to Wiki,"An index card (or system card in Australian English) consists of heavy paper stock cut to standard size, used for recording and storing small amounts of discrete data. It was invented by Carl Linnaeus." Linnaeus,  being famous for his contributions to taxonomy, is rarely associated with his invention of the index card, a "revolutionary" invention for managing data. This fact was brought to my attention while I was web-surfing to see where I could purchase some special paper to use for printing some new greeting cards and invitations that I've designed, which I will be adding to eventually include in the store-front pages of my web-site via my Canon Pixma. I often get side-tracked when web-surfing and discover many facts I might not have known (or even care to know) when looking for information on the Internet. Regarding index cards, I knew about the"heavy paper stock being cut to standard size" and that index cards are "used for recording small amounts of discrete data," but I did not know they were invented by Carl Linnaeus — nor, I must confess, had I thought much about their origin.
I was first introduced to the index card in its "standard" white variety (not the pastels shown above) when I needed them for a research paper on Joseph Smith that I was doing in grade school. The lesson in school was not rooted in Smith's relationship to Mormon history, but was a lesson in the gathering of data (life before Google), and extrapolating pieces of salient and concise information, and then recording it onto index cards.


The topic had been chosen by the teacher (in those days kids were seen and not heard, as opposed to today when it often appears adults are seen and not heard). The task was  somewhat daunting for me because I had great difficulty keeping my handwriting within the confines of those ruled lines that appear on the cards. If you follow my blog, then you may recall that I am legally blind, so you might imagine that being sight challenged can make it difficult to adequately make use of index cards. My complaint about this was not accepted by my teacher, who gave me a very poor grade in penmanship, though she did acknowledge that I had excellent research skills. The nightmare of filling the space properly when using ruled index cards came again when I had to type information within those ruled lines to fulfill school assignments. For one thing, I had not mastered typing. In those days typing was taught — at least where I went to school — with the teacher placing text above the blackboard so that the students would not look down at the keys on the typewriter. My problem was that I could not see the text from where I sat, and I was put out in the hallway when I voiced my protests. I received a 'D minus-minus' that year for my efforts in "personal typing" and never did master putting  text on the ruled lines of an index card via handwriting, or typing either. To this day, I still type with one finger, and I look at the keyboard.




In terms of index cards, years and years after my grade school experiences I was faced with the "challenge" of writing my contact information on an index card. This time it was for a teacher in a voice-over class. It was a big class, and the teacher remarked how she needed to use this method in case she wanted to submit us for auditions and keep notes about us on the cards. In any event, I fulfilled the task by putting my information on the blank side of the index card. The instructor did not send me out in the hallway, and instead remarked that two people had given her information in this matter, a woman named Joan Copeland and myself, and, she saw this as a sign of creativity.

At the time I did not realize that Ms. Copeland was Arthur Miller's sister, even though I had met him at my audition for Death of a Salesman, as I mentioned in a previous post. In any event, besides having the class put their pertinent contact information on the index cards, the instructor wanted us to watch and tape television commercials so that we could learn the "rhythm" of voice-overs. I did not own a television at the time (nor do I now) so Ms. Copeland loaned me one of hers for the duration of the class, and while I never auditioned for a voice-over, I was healed of my FORIC (fear of ruled index cards).

Today, I've learned (via Science Daily) that Linnaeus' invention of the index card "marked a major shift in how eighteenth-century naturalists thought about the order of nature" and "the natural world was no longer ordered on a fixed, linear scale, but came to be seen as a map-like natural system of multiple affinities." Linnaeus liked the idea that his method allowed information to be "complemented and reshuffled" (today's joys of cutting and pasting), and it strikes me that such a mindset would not have insisted that handwriting remain on the ruled lines as my grade school teachers, did, but, like the voice-over teacher, would've marveled at one using the other side in an effort to record the necessary information.


I realize that this posting is apropos of nothing in terms of my blog's intent (laid out in the "About" box at the top-left corner) to discuss gardening and my work as a photo artist, but I found knowing Carl Linnaues's motive for inventing index cards interesting, which is reason enough to share it with you, dear reader, and perhaps you would be willing to share your memories of the index card with me.

Special Unscheduled Posting: In Honor of Colleen Elizabeth Ormond

One month and one day ago today, on Veterans Day, November  11, 2010, Colleen Elizabeth Ormond (pictured above with the family dog, Hero), died at the age of twenty-five. I learned of her death late that night, not even a week after my post about November being a month of remembrance for those who have died, and for those who mourn them.

Colleen was born with with a severe form of a hydrocephalic condition which caused her to have several debilitating afflictions, including being unable to see due to resulting damage to her optic nerve. Yet Colleen Elizabeth Ormond gave much love from the minute she came into the world until she left it, passing peacefully in her sleep on Veterans Day, having been a warrior herself. Colleen had fought the good fight and has now finished the race.

Today's post, because it is being entered on the third Sunday of Advent, a season that calls for paying attention, is in honor of Colleen Elizabeth Ormond, and her family, as well as to all who are affected by the loss of health and loss of  a child — painful losses at any time but especially at the holidays. 




Prior to my working as a photo-artist and writer, I studied special education and at that time volunteered at Lincoln State School, which is now closed. However, it was at Lincoln State School that I came in contact regularly with children afflicted by hydrocephalic conditions in varying degrees, as well as other conditions associated with profound retardation. During those years my impression of Lincoln State School was that reeked of urine and neglect.

However with Colleen that was far from the case. Her family took great care of her; making many accommodations in their home to do so. Although no one has asked me to do anything in relation to Colleen's passing, the family did request that in lieu of flowers to honor Colleen, donations could be made to Katibug.  Katibug is a non-profit foundation helping families who are caring for medically and physically fragile children like Colleen, in their homes.

Colleen's passing (and the fact that her parents and sister cared for her in their home) has prompted me to donate one of images (in the new year) to be produced as an event program cover for Katibug. As a writer and artist, and someone who is afflicted with mild cases of both Neurofibromatosis and legal blindness, the least that I can do is to contribute in this small way with a donation of an event program cover for Katibug. 

Earlier in the year I made a contribution to another non-profit organization that had reached out to me. This donation was in the form of a print selected from my Black and White photograph collection (posted on my web-site) at the request of the Foundation Fighting Blindness, as I discussed in a previous post.

In the new year, please watch for updates on this blog for details on the event program cover that will ultimately be chosen to be produced in honor of Colleen Elizabeth Ormond.

The Children's Hour Reprised

Today is homecoming at Rutger's University, and although the weather is one of Autumn's best, a somber spirit looms over the football field where this afternoon, spectators will pause for a moment of silence before the Rutger's team takes on the team from Tulane. The somber spirit is because one of the students from Rutgers, Tyler Clementi, an eighteen year old freshman has died from what was apparently suicide. He allegedly jumped to his death from the George Washington Bridge, a bridge that goes over the Hudson River, and connects New York City to New Jersey.
Tyler Clementi's body was found in the Hudson River, on September 29th, where he landed, after jumping off the bridge. There is speculation that Tyler Clementi did this upon realizing that his dormitory room-mate, Dahrun Ravi, and a friend of Dahrun's, Molly Wei, had secretly taped (via a web-cam) a sexual encounter that he had performed with a male and then posted their taping of this on the internet.



Photographs of Tyler Clementi, Dahrum Ravi, and Molly Wei have permeated the newspapers and the internet. The image of Tyler Clementi playing a violin reflects a sensitive soul and is heartbreaking. The photographs of Ravi and Wei are from a high school year book and reflect as much self-assuredness as photographs of that nature can achieve. The rhetoric surrounding this incident has focused on the intent of Ravi and Wei who have been charged with violating an individual's privacy. Newspapers reports indicate that many people want  the charges against Ravi and Wei to be escalated to the charge of performing a hate crime.

Activists are now speculating that Ravi and Wei's actions were  motivated by a desire to commit a hate crime against gays,  however, I think that something deeper is going on: a fundamental disregard for humanity. Ravi and Wei were raised at a time that television programs like Saturday Night Live thrive on making fun of others. SNL is not the only program which does this, but entertainment has crossed the line of relaxing humor to poking fun at others. This poking fun seems to have translated into the playing of dark - anything goes - pranks, as seemingly evidenced by Wei and Ravi. Whatever their motive was, they are responsible for the result. Unfortunately, Ravi and Wei may have been doing what seems to come natural — making fun of someone in an over-the-top way. Where does this behavior start?


In the coverage of Tyler Clementai's death I heard a female newscaster remark that in high school she and her friends delighted in writing the word "FAT" on a piece of paper and pinning it to the back of a fat student's shirt for everyone - but the student to see - "We thought nothing of it, " this perky newscaster stated without remorse. Sadly, generation after generation have been guilty of taking actions and making remarks that have resulted in tragic results for the targeted individual.

It has been seventy-six years since Lillian Hellman's play, The Children's Hour, was produced on Broadway, and thirty-nine years since the film, The Children's Hour, based on the play, was produced. The synopsis is this: The protagonists, Karen Wright and Martha Dobie, run an all girl's school. When Mary, an angry student spreads a false rumor that these two women have a lesbian relationship, the community's willingness to believe the false rumors, and to aid in spreading malicious gossip, results in them having to close their school. The lives of Karen and Martha are ultimately destroyed when they loose a court case to defend their innocence. Ultimately, one of the women, the character of Martha Dobie, begins to think that she indeed might have sexual feelings for Karen (who is engaged to be married to a man named Joe). When Martha confronts Karen about this - in the privacy of the home that they share - Karen insists that the strain of the school being closed, and the emotional drain of defending the gossip has taken its toll on Martha, and dismisses Martha's concerns. Karen goes out for a walk and becomes very worried about the state of Martha's well being. She rushes home to find the door bolted, when she forces it open, Karen discovers Martha is hanging from a noose, and has died from suicide.


Much like Mary, the young adolescent who started the rumor in the story of The Children's Hour, Ravi and Wei apparently did not consider the repercussions for their actions. Although their  actions were senseless and cruel, I am not certain that Dahrun Ravi and Molly Wei's motives were akin to plotting a hate crime.

While I have great empathy for the gay community for being a target of prejudice and hatred, they are not the only ones condemned by insensitivity. Because I was born with Neurofibromatosis, I know this only too well. I have been the target of many cruel remarks and pranks in relation to the lumps and bumps on my skin that are a result of having Neurofibromatosis (NF). I even lost a job at a well-known New York City Museum because I was accused of being contagious due to my bumps (NF is not contagious) and was told people did not want to use equipment I had touched. I have also been the target of cruel remarks attributed to my legal blindness. "Doesn't it bother you that your eye turns inward? You look like a dog going blind" "How could someone love you with all your bumps and thick glasses." " Four-Eyes," "Blind as a Bat," and "Coke Bottles" are examples of the kinder remarks that  I have received over the years.

Whether it is unkind remarks made to an individual as was the case with me, or a false rumor like the one Mary started in The Children's Hour, or the very cruel actions of Wei and Ravi, people need to stop before they make a remark or perform an action and consider the longterm consequences.


Last night, the Rutgers Symphony Orchestra performed at the Nicholas Music Center- a performance that would've been Clementi's first with the orchestra. Before picking up his baton, the conductor, Kynan Johns announced, "let's hope the lessons we should learn from such a tragedy help to make our society better."

Lookin' SWEET Upon a Seat of a Bicycle Built for Two

Tomorrow is the annual Five Boro Bike Ride which follows an interesting route, but for now I’d like to spend a few moments telling you how I am (as well as others who are visually challenged or blind) are able to enjoy cycling in spite of being legally blind. I have always enjoyed bike riding, and I did learn to ride a bike as a child despite my physical challenges, but years later because of my struggle with vision (especially in relation to depth perception and lack of visual fields), I had to stop bike riding completely. Therefore I was elated to receive an e–mail from The Achilles Club — an organization normally associated with running — in June of 2008, inviting folks who were totally blind, or who had other visual challenges, to participate in The Twin Tandem Program that it was starting. Twelve tandem bikes had been donated for this purpose.
On the first day of the Achilles Meet–Up Series that June, we met at Engineer’s Gate in Central Park, where everyone was offered the opportunity to participate in riding loops within the park. There were a dozen captains and stokers. We even had a captain named Juliet and a stoker named Romeo. There was also a stoker named Daisy, and her presence was not lost on us as we sang the “traditional” twin tandem song, Daisy Bell.


The following year, in May 2009, the Achilles Tandem Program participated in The Annual Five Boro Bike Tour. The photograph posted above is one I purchased from Brightroom Photography. It was taken at the start of The Five Boro Bike Tour, last May 2009. My captain and I completed in spite of the all–day–rain. She is the person who was initially assigned to be my captain at the onset of the Twin Tandem Program. In addition to the Achilles Twin Tandem rides within Central Park, I’ve participated in many “private” rides (with a variety of captains, male and female) as well as group rides since that first Twin Tandem Meet–Up in June 2008. These group rides include The Transportation Alternatives Ride (twice), Trudy Hutter’s Annual Group Ride to the Festival of Lights in Dyker Heights (twice), and The Twin Lights Ride (in the New Jersey Highlands). We competed the ride last year in site of the torrents of rain. This year there is no rain predicted but instead it will be extremely hot. We plan to ride anyway, so if I am not too saddle sore, I’ll let you know how we did in a post tomorrow night or Monday morning. Meanwhile, for those of you interested in participating in rides, see the following links:

The Transportation Alternatives Ride NYC

Trudy Hutter’s Annual Group Ride to the Festival of Lights in Dyker Heights (This is the December 2009 info but December 2010 will be similar.)
The Twin Lights Ride (Highlands Ride in New Jersey)
The Five Boro Bike Tour

Springtime in the Greenhouse

On this first full day of spring, as I indicated in my previous post this morning, (I’m on a roll, two posts in one day, could this be spring fever?), my urban outdoor garden’s herbs, plants, trees and shrubs are not quite ready to 7#8220;pose” as images for cards — even though my i–CAL says it is the first day of spring. For now, my best choice for honoring this season is my Black and White card, Springtime in the Greenhouse,(posted above). It is available for purchasethrough my web–site .




This card is derived from a print of the same name. The actual print is celebrating spring too, because today, March 20th, 2010, it is my donation to fundraiser for The Foundation Fighting Blindness. (Details about how I became involved in this event can be read here.)

"It takes a sharp eye........or does it..........?" The Possible Influence of "Wink" -------- Fanny Sonnenschein's Family

This post is about the impact of my being legally blind, the impact this condition has on my photo-artistry, and to offer a follow-up to the two radio interviews that I've given on this subject. These interviews are posted on my web-site.

One interview is with Karen Ingenthron Lewis. She conducted this interview for W.B.A.I. Radio (a prominent FM station in New York City) for the program, The Al Lewis Show. Al Lewis was known for his role as Grandpa in the television series, The Munsters. The other interview is with John Montone. He conducted this interview for 1010 W.I.N.S. (a prominent AM station in New York City) for his news feature, John Montone's New York, where he posed the question (regarding legal blindness and photo-artistry), "It takes a sharp eye...or does it?"


In addition to my being born with NF (discussed in the second post), I came into the world with a severe form of myopia. The latter was complicated by my having a long eye-ball and a stretched retina, causing me to have extremely low vision. The prevailing attitudes about women who wore glasses during the year that I was born most likely shaped my mother's attitude about my wearing glasses. Her opinion also formed my view of having to wear them during childhood, which in retrospect, contributed to my artistic temperament.



My mother was a movie buff, and often told me that she had spent most of her high-school days at the cinema. I can still remember being told that the year before I was born, one of her favorite movies was How to Marry a Millionaire. This movie was a wide success, partly due to the character of the protagonist, Pola (played by Marilyn Monroe), and her attitude towards wearing glasses - preferring to walk into walls rather than risk a man seeing her wear them - and who was convinced that Dorothy Parker was right by saying, "men seldom make passes at girls who wear glasses."

The times, of course, have changed, and so have attitudes (to some extent) about wearing glasses. Some people even wear glasses - with no correction in them - to achieve a certain look. Obviously, had I been born at a different time, during a different mind-set, or if my folk's consciousness was raised when it came to low vision issues, my perception might have been totally different. The background I am giving here is to set the tone for what it was like to grow up at the time I did, and how that shaped my artistic endeavors. 
A few months before my fifth birthday, and the onset of kindergarten, my mother suggested that I start a hope chest, and began filling it with dishes that I might need if I was 'fortunate enough to have someone to marry.' My mother (who did not wear glasses) was already worried that I would not have a boyfriend since I wore thick glasses. Perhaps this is because when she was growing up, she was surrounded by many aunts who were single (although they did not wear glasses), and who were labeled 'old maids' - even though they longed to be married.


When I first went to kindergarden, I was not thinking of dishes that I might need to start a household. My perspective of having low vision was this: "I have worn very thick glasses with pointed pink frames since I was three. Once when I stayed overnight at a cousin's house, I wore them to bed - thinking if I had to get up at night to pee, I would surely need to find my way to the bathroom. When my cousin discovered this, she told everyone that I even needed glasses to see my dreams. That’s when the neighborhood kids started calling me 'Four Eyes' and 'Little Miss Coke-Bottles,' and saying I was 'blind as a bat.' I cannot tell Daddy this, because he wears thick glasses too, and I don’t want to hurt his feelings. Mom, who doesn't wear glasses, says I can take them off if I want people to like me. But I can’t do this, since without them I see very little - and what I do see is fuzzy. If I say I wish I could be like my sister and not wear glasses, she calls me a green-eyed monster. I do have green eyes so I suppose she is right."


It seems odd now, as I write this blog, to think that wearing glasses pained me so much, and looking at this snap-shot below, taken before those kindergarten days, you'd never suspect that wearing glasses made me feel unhappy. (I'm the one on the left.) For me, one of the perks of those pre-school days, is that I was not with so many other children, and so I didn't perceive there was anything 'wrong' with me (other than my mother's wish that I did not wear glasses and occasional teasing from my sister and cousin), until I started elementary school, where I became the target of cruel remarks.

My mother is the one who took this photo (most likely coaxing a smile) of me when I was with one of my cousins and my sister. My mother spent a lot of time looking at life through the view-finder of her Kodak-Instamatic plastic camera, preserving memories of how she wanted my sister and me to remember our childhood. Perhaps behind the lens, she was protecting herself from the sadness she must've felt, seeing others make fun of me. At one point, she even blamed herself for my low vision, saying that if she had not taken so many photos of me as a baby, and allowing the flash to go off in my eyes, my eye-sight might not have been so poor.


However, even if it was true that flashbulbs going off in my eyes could've resulted in low vision, it is obvious that I most likely inherited my low vision from a long line of folks on my father's (Albert Loth Youngquist), side of the family. He evidently also wore the 'Coke-Bottle' version of glasses when he was a child as seen in the photo below. (He is the one on the left.)

I don't know how he felt about his low vision, because he divorced my mother when I was a child, and I did not see him often. However, that might not have made much difference, because he was not one to share his feelings on many subjects. I do know, that unlike my mother, my father did not grow up around doting family members. What I know about my father are things I learned from his older sister, Evelyn Youngquist Swain, a celebrated ceramic artist whom I did not become acquainted with until I was in my thirties. When she sent me this photograph of my father's boyhood, she enclosed a note on the back, giving me her perception of the neglect he experienced in boyhood.

I am sharing these details with you in this blog because it should be kept in mind that the stories of my father are through Evelyn's perspective. Evidently, she was in high-school when he was born, and it is her perception that my father spent the first few years of his life not being able to see very much, and that his need for correction was ignored because their mother, Clara Loth Youngquist, had moved out of state - without her family - due to severe asthma problems. According to Evelyn, who claimed she received full parental attention, my father's need to wear corrective devices was ignored for a number of years. She would recount this story whenever I expressed memories about my childhood and the reactions I had experienced from others over my need to wear such thick glasses, and to the loneliness I had felt when my father moved out of the house. "What do you expect," she'd say, "He can't give you what he didn't get from his parents?"

Although my father had poor vision in both eyes, one eye performed much worse than the other. This can cause the eye with lesser vision to 'turn in' giving the appearance of being cross-eyed. I too have this manifestation, and once in the 1980's, I was asked by a commercial casting agent at Abrams Artists, in New York City, if I minded the fact that my eye turned inward. The agent did not wait for my answer, but proceeded to tell me, that during her high-school years, she made fun of someone whose eye did this.


Fanny 'Wink' Sonnenschein, my father's grandmother, and my great grandmother, had this affliction too. One of her eyes performed so much less than the other, that she was nicknamed Wink, by her mother, Rosa Fassel Sonnenschein - the "flamboyant editor and publisher of The American Jewess, the first (1895) independent American Jewish magazine, published by a woman" and dedicated to issues concerning women. Rosa is shown in the image below "on the cover" of her publication, a ploy Oprah Winfrey has done with putting herself on the cover of her "O" magazine. However, in Rosa Sonnenschein's case, I don't know if she put her photo on every issue of her publication as Oprah continues to do.

I am also not certain if Rosa had poor eye-sight as she is not wearing glasses in this photo, since poor eye-sight was associated with shame when I was a child. Perhaps if Rosa had an affliction, she hid it. However, from what I understand about Rosa, she was not shy about who she was and what was important to her as evidenced in the text printed on the top left corner of this postcard that I received in the 1980's. It reads:

"Rosa Sonneschein (1847-1932) was the flamboyant editor and publisher of The American Jewess, the first independent American Jewish magazine published by a woman for women. After every meal Sonnenschein relaxed with her favorite cigar, 'Between the Acts.' She had taken up the habit when her physician suggested that an after dinner smoke might prevent the indigestion she suffered from the constant dinner disputes with her husband. When her four children were grown, she terminated her disastrous marriage and turned to publishing as a means of livelihood. Her magazine boasted 29,000 subscribers during its brief run (1895-1899). She brought to the magazine her great story-telling ability along with a global view on people and events. Most articles were written by women and covered social and religious issues as well as literature. In one editorial she wrote 'The New Woman! The new Woman! That is the cry on every side. But where, oh where, lingers the New Man? Is he looming on the horizon, or will the feminine phoenix still have to content herself with the Old Specimen?' After attending the first Zionist Congress in Basle (1897), she wrote about women's disenfranchisement with the emerging socio-political movement. She saw no conflict between her feminism and her liberal Judaism, and was impatient with all who failed to recognize women's religious equality and their potential power as change agents in the community."


I was sent this card by my great uncle David Loth who was the son of Fanny 'Wink' Sonnenschein. He had heard about me through my ceramic-artist-aunt. By the time I met David Loth, I was in my thirties and he was eighty-six years old. I was able to meet him on only two occasions prior to his death, and he had much to say about this background, including the fact that Rosa's husband, Solomon Sonnenschein, was 'a child of the first night,' and that because of this, it wasn't thought he would go to rabbinical school, much less study at Jenna, or that he would be a successful Rabbi in Warasdin, Prague prior to coming to New York where he was a successful Rabbi, before founding a synagogue in Missouri.


My great uncle David Loth, was afflicted with very low vision, but was not deterred from a successful journalism career as he used devices to help him read.


Thankfully, as you may have heard in my interviews, I've also been able to adapt equipment to meet my needs, when it comes to my photo artistry and doing computer work. The details in this post are intended to set up a context for viewing my art work and to encourage others with a visual challenge to pursue endeavors despite the visual restrictions.