Helping the Blind (Synchronicity)

The other day I got off the Bus at Harvard station and walked with the disembarking crowd through the station center. We soon mixed with a counter current of passengers leaving the inbound Redline train. In the crowd there was a short dark haired young woman with a dark dog walking by and looking a little lost. As I past her she looked in my direction and I realized she was blind. She called me out and asked for my help. She wanted to be directed to the Dunkin Donuts located right across the concourse. I told her sure. I paused then went for her arm. Every other time I have gone to help a blind person they ask me to hold their elbow or they insert an arm into the crook of my elbow as if I was leading them into a lavish ball. As I touched her arm she stopped me and informed me that I could just walk in front of her dog to lead her to the line. I did so and she thanked me.
I went out to meet some friends last night for some drink in Davis Square and I asked if this was a common occurrence. It did not seem to be very common amongst this group. I took the bus home that night and was struck by a woman with a huge head of wild white hair and a very stylish preppy/alt/nerd red wool suite. She was very talkative to her companion who I soon realized was her assistant as she was blind. The apparent synchronicity occurring led me to think of past interactions.
A few months back I was to meet my friend Dana, again in Harvard Square, for some delicious Pinocchio’s pizza. I got off the T and my way was hindered by a not so small middle-aged woman who was also blind but without a dog. She called out for help and I was the only likely candidate within earshot. She asked me to escort her to Harvest restaurant where she was planning on meeting some friends. I was a little concerned since I was slightly late for my lunch meeting and I was starting to get a reputation of being a flake with Dana. But I knew I had no choice. I think you go to hell if you don’t help a blind person. I was also concerned, as I didn’t quite remember the best route to Harvest. She asked me to grab her elbow and I led her in the most efficient manner that I could and tried to come up with some small talk. Once I got to Brattle Street I ventured down a few false alleys with this poor misguided woman. I finally found the right path but it ended up they were doing construction behind the Brattle hall so I was trying to describe the precarious metallic walkway we were about to go over and explain away the alien noises and dust. I left her at Harvest where her friends who were waiting. I made it to Pinocchio’s where Dana was more then willing to forgive me for my tardiness.
Digging back further into my consciousness I remembered an intimidating man who frequently could be found in Westwood Village California. He was tall, pale and bald. He was also blind and would often cry out in the middle of the village … “Would someone help me?” I understand why people were reluctant to help. His manner was slightly alarming and his large body moved around awkwardly and somewhat aggressively. But I crossed the road to ask him what I could do. He asked for my arm and wanted be lead somewhere. I have to admit that it is always a little bit awkward to have a stranger grab your arm or to grab a stranger’s arm and lead them threw a public square. Despite his loud voice and threatening appearance his personality was ultimately very disarming. His shoes were never tied but as I was walking with him people would tell him that they were untied. He would flatly explain to those concerned that he bought them that way. I have continued to use that line as I am constantly found with untied shoelaces. I saw him a few more times while I was taking my Village breaks from my studies at UCLA.
My ultimate experience assisting a blind person has to be that with my high school history teacher Mr. Robert Acosta. He was a very attentive instructor and despite his handicap did a fairly good job at maintaining order. Students seemed to respect him. My older sister had Mr. Acosta for three years and said he was the only teacher who really cared. She was often late and she told me she remembers him saying repeatedly, “Mendy, sit down!” as he recognized the sound of her clunky late seventies shoes enter the room. I was not the best student in high school and was barely passing his class. He presented a challenge to me. If I get a B on his final and I would get a B in the class. To quell cheating in his class, which we all swore was not an issue; he performed his final by open book oral exam one by one in front of the class. I studied hard for the exam. On the day of the exam I listened with interest to the students who came before me. I felt that I could have made a good showing had I been given any of the questions the prior students had been given. After several students it was my turn and I bombed. I could not answer any of the questions and as I leafed futilely threw my notes. It seemed like all of the good questions were gone and only the most obscure left.
I was in bad shape. I might not pass history. A few days later Mr. Acosta asked if anyone would like to help him by driving him to a meeting downtown on Saturday for extra credit. I volunteered immediately. Based on some hindsight googling I gather that I might have been bringing him to American Council of the Blind meeting but I am not sure. I borrowed my moms red Ford Mercury hatch back which I thought would perfectly fit him and his German Shepard. I later crashed that car but that is another story. I folded down the back seat to give his dog plenty of room in the back. I arrived at his place and met his wife. As we started to leave he asked if I could give his wife, who was also blind, a ride. I didn’t respond because I was trying to work out in my head how to explain that the seat was down. Mr. Acosta said “Sure you can” so I mumbled something and ran to the car to fold up the seat just as his wife found the car door and was climbing into that back. Mr. Acosta stepped into my front seat and his dog fit easily between his legs. I was relieved but felt bad that I didn’t seem more welcoming to his wife.
The day was nice. The meeting was in one of those woody red-chaired early 70’s LA restaurants that served things like burgers and Monte Cristo sandwichs. I talked to one member of the group who was into some cool music and that made me feel like less of the odd man out. On the way home I put on some old ventures surf music and Mr. Acosta new the words to all the standards that the Ventures had turned into instrumentals. I was glad that he appreciated my music. He told the class on the following Monday that I had great taste in music, gave me the extra credit and I passed his class.
Going back even further I remember my mom volunteering with the blind when I was very young. She was very appreciative of their talents and the ways they compensated for their lack of vision. One day she showed me a mosaic of an owl that one of the women she worked with created. It looked like an owl and my mom was very impressed and was excited to share this with me.
So I wonder. Does is it that once you encounter a particular type of person then they regularly make reappearances? Are we trained for the possible interactions we will have in the future. Probably not. Most of these instances could be explained away as artifacts of awareness. Is awareness a synchronicity generator or is synchronicity an artifice of awareness. Either way it is nice to help people out and be connected one other way to the human experience.