Going Blind ... Briefly

I was blind Friday night.

Dinner was a fantastic four-course affair: tomato and mozzarella bruschetta, baby field greens, petite filet in a cabernet demi-glace and grilled chicken. All finished off with a dessert trio of crème brulee, cappuccino mousse, and a chocolate raspberry truffle.

Mmmmm.

But I couldn’t see any of it. My eyes were covered with a firm-fitting eye mask, so unyielding it came over my nose a la Batman, giving me no way of cheating even a little.

How would I butter my bread? Find my water glass without turning it over? Spear food onto my fork?

It was a challenge I was a little apprehensive about.

This “Dining in the Dark” event was presented by the Mira Foundation USA. Mira USA is working to provide service dogs to visually-impaired children. Unbelievably, there isn’t an organization in the United States that does this. Mira USA, modeled after Mira Foundation in Canada, is the first.

This United States initiative started with one compassionate man. Bob Baillie of North Carolina went into the hospital for what should have been fairly routine bypass surgery. He emerged sightless.

A Bernese Mountain dog helped Bob find a new life. Bob and his dog Devon walk three miles from home their home to Bob’s favorite coffee spot every morning, and Bob says he’s met more people in the last two years than he’d met in the previous decade. Through this life-changing experience, Bob set out to improve life for other people living with blindness, particularly children.

“Dining in the Dark” raised funds for Mira (it costs $60,000 for one service dog – just imagine the intensive training required). It also raised awareness in the community about Mira and its goal to help children who desperately need help.

The cause was worthy. The execution was highly effective.

This experience of being blind –even for such a short time– was transforming for me.

The thing that amazed me most about being blindfolded was how quickly my other senses kicked into overdrive.

In good ways and bad.

On the positive side, dinner was delicious. That’s not generally true at banquets, even at nicer venues as this event was. But between my heightened sense of smell and taste, I enjoyed every scrumptious bite. Especially dessert.

When dessert was served, the scent of chocolate wafted into my nostrils before it even reached our table. This made me question the adage that “we eat with our eyes first.” Without sight, this dessert was exquisite.

On the down side, my ears were extremely sensitive, too. So much so as to be uncomfortable.

During the hour of mingling before dinner sans blindfolds, I was oblivious to the chatter of 200 guests. Once I donned the mask, though, normal conversation blared into my ears. The din of so many people talking and clinking their silverware was almost overwhelming.

After the second course, I went to the restroom (thankfully, we were allowed to do that without blindfolds!), and I was surprised that my ears were ringing. That usually only happens after hearing a loud band, but normal noise did that to me Friday night.

And most unfortunately, that petite filet was beyond my dexterity without vision. Our server Michelle kindly advised us that the beef and chicken were placed at 6 o’clock on the plate. Even knowing that, I managed to slide the beef around the plate a whole lot and, just when I thought I finally had one of those suckers on my fork, I bit into … air. (Kudos to Michelle for giving us tips for finding our food rather than laughing at all our mishaps!)

The final thing I noticed about being blind briefly is that it brought my guard down a bit. That could be good or bad. :-) At our table of 10 mostly serious business people, conversation went beyond the typical fundraiser dinner conversation. We laughed, we bonded, we sang 80s television theme songs. (And here’s where I offer my apologies to the professional entertainment for our interjection of “The Love Boat” into the night’s line-up.)

“Dining in the Dark” transformed how I think about the five senses, and that was a very cool experience.

But in the bigger picture, it changed how I think of the sightless. Or to be blunt, it made me think of the sightless at all. I never have before. Oh, sure, I have encountered a few blind people and marveled at their normalcy. But after our brief passing in the street, they’re out of my mind.

No more. Today, I think of sightless children who need a service dog. Children whose lives can be improved by a loyal canine who will comfort them, enable them to do routine tasks, and keep them safe.

Mira Foundation USA is making that possible.

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If you want to help Mira, you can do that here.