Day 1
I like the beach. I can’t say I like the ocean, but the beach is OK with me. The ocean is not so great, you know, because of hurricanes and sharks. I’m not a fan of still, standing water, not even in the bathtub, much less the limitless ocean. Sharks don’t need THAT much water in which to swim and murder me, so anywhere past my mid-calf and I’m really nervous.
So, I’m standing in the surf on the beach in North Myrtle Beach, South Carolina, ankle deep, I might add, thinking about how much I like it here. On the beach, not in the water. I made a promise to myself to come here every evening I am here so I can listen to the sounds of the waves crashing in. So very peaceful.
A beautiful sunset at Myrtle Beach, South Carolina
And so very different from the town, not 200 yards from where I’m standing, where it’s Bike Week in Myrtle. Which means every Harley Davidson owner from around the planet has come to my beach paradise to rev their engines and blast their music. Even when I was a young man, I didn’t like the loud noises, and I sure don’t like them now when I’m trying to help Gunner cross a street by using his hearing alone. Try that next time a Harley is at your intersection. See if you can hear ANYTHING else while they’re idling, much less accelerating.
My flight got me here in time to unpack, scout out the route to Gunner’s house, and get a grouper sandwich before the sunset, which was really nice. My favorite author, Rick Bragg (It’s All Over But the Shoutin’ et al) wrote almost a whole chapter in one of his books in which he laments the overfishing that apparently happened to the grouper, that caused grouper to be really hard to find. This is the first time I’ve seen grouper on the menu for quite some time, so I had the sandwich and made a mental note to drop Mr. Bragg a note about the event. The grouper on my sandwich was as hard to find as it apparently is in the ocean, but what I found tasted good. I went from there to the beach where I watched the sunset and worried about my pores emitting grouper cells, attracting nearby sharks who probably miss the grouper as much as Mr. Bragg.
Day 2
I got to bed not long after sunset because I was gonna meet Gunner at his house around 5:30 this morning. He drinks coffee with his cronies at a local fast food restaurant 6 days a week, and this route is one of the main reasons I’m here. I wanted to observe Gunner doing it in a natural setting. I wanted to experience similar traffic and lighting that he would get on his trips, so 5:30 it was.
Gunner travels on the sidewalk while using his cane. He’s wearing shorts and a bright yellow jacket.
Gunner has been to Leader for O&M training, and Jessica, one of our Guide Dog Mobility Instructors (GDMI) has been to visit him at home. She’s the one who suggested I come out to see this route and maybe assist Gunner in making it more safe and/or efficient. Gunner is suited up in a bright yellow reflective vest, has his phone flashlight on and in his front pocket, and a headlamp on the back of his head. Jessica suggested this so that cars coming up from behind him can see him from a little further away. He thinks this suggestion is the best thing since sliced bread and has been doing it ever since. It’s pretty bright, too, so following him isn’t much fun. It does make him more visible to traffic, and I’m always a fan of that.
At breakfast, I met Mike, one of the regulars. Mike has a routine in which he goes to the Circle K down the street at the same time as the paper delivery where he has a deal with them in which he procures yesterday’s paper for free, then comes to breakfast with the boys. He figures that anything that’s happened the day before yesterday can wait ‘til tomorrow.
We left after the group broke up and figured out the best way to get to Aldi’s and Lowe’s along Highway 17 which is the main north/south thoroughfare through Myrtle Beach. It’s busy, but this morning is too early for most of the bikers, a situation about which I am quite happy.
Because Gunner has had mobility in the past, I’m not teaching him skills, but helping him clean up some routes. I know he got skills drilled into him on campus with Rod who, by the way, started our O&M program at Leader. Rod’s another one of our excellent group of instructors, and is a no-nonsense kinda guy, when he’s teaching. Because I know this, I expect Gunner to be sound technically, and he is.
We got back to his house in time for me to get some Carolina Barbeque, the kind with the lovely mustard-based sauce, and head to the beach for sunset #2. I ate at Old South on Queen’s Highway where they advertise “the best butts on the beach” in reference to all the pork butt they smoke and sell. I can attest that the butt, in fact, was quite good.
Day 3
I ate egg-like substances for breakfast at the hotel and met Gunner at his house after he returned from his daily coffee meeting because we were planning on exploring a route to a different destination in the opposite direction.
While on our way, Gunner asked me where I was headed next and I told him a very small town in Nebraska. He said he drinks coffee with a guy every Tuesday from a small town in Nebraska. When he asks where exactly, I told him that I was headed to Wahoo, Nebraska, Gunner stopped in his tracks and exclaimed “No Way?” His Tuesday coffee buddy is from Wahoo, Nebraska, which is a pretty small town with less than 4000 folks. The world just keeps getting smaller and smaller. All the time.
All along Highway 17, there are more putt-putt golf courses than you can imagine, and more pancake houses than putt-putt golf courses. All with different themes, each one more fantastically designed than the next. I don’t know if almost being murdered by sharks makes you crave pancakes, so if there’s another reason for the proliferation of pancake houses in Myrtle Beach, I’d sure like to know it.
This route is all about traversing driveways and parking lots, which are evil, evil places. Half of the drivers encountered have either sugared up at the putt-putt place, or loaded down with carbs from all the pancakes, which could make walking around very dicey. We made it OK and headed back to Gunner’s home where I met wife Mary Ann, who fed me ice cream. Very much like a stray dog who’s been fed, I may never leave, or come back every day from here to eternity. We changed tips on one of Gunner’s canes, then I left to join the multitude of sugared-up drivers on the mean streets of Myrtle.
Bike week has afforded me fun opportunity. Adrian, a friend of my friend Mike from Birmingham, has his cigar shop (New Leaf Cigar Lounge) set up at one of the Harley Davidson dealerships in the area. I headed out there to meet him and learn more about cigars and tobacco production than I knew was even out there to be learned. With the inside help of Mike and his lovely bride, Hope, Adrian very aptly drew me in to falling for my favorite joke and we all had a great laugh. Hope and Mike called me later, just so they could laugh with me. Have I ever told y’all about the bear that walked into a bar? If I haven’t, please ask me if I ever see you and I’ll tell you all about it. Good times. Good times indeed.
I stopped at Publix, my favorite grocery store in the southeast, and got a Pub sub, then took it to the beach to watch the sunset one last time. It was really cloudy and overcast, but the sounds of the ocean were still great, and I didn’t witness any shark murders while I was there. There weren’t any reports of shark murders in the news, but I don’t expect there would be. That would be as bad for Bike Week as it would have been for Chief Brody to announce the shark murders on Amity Island. Bad for business.
Day 4
Another 5:30 start and I had to check out of the hotel before that, so this morning was an early one. I got to Gunner’s home just after he left, but I cut across the park and caught up with him. I wanted to see him travel this route since I altered how he did parts of it in order to make him more safe and efficient. After breakfast and baseball talk with Mike with yesterday’s news, we headed back to Gunner’s by another different route that Gunner had wanted to try but didn’t feel comfortable enough with his skills to do so.
This happens a lot in our program because of all the repetitions we get in such a short time. People’s confidence grows in their skills and they think of things to do that they may have previously thought they couldn’t. We did that today and Gunner has a brand new route to practice. Having started so early, I had more time before my flight than I expected, so I visited one of the many pancake houses and then joined the overly-carbed population driving to the airport.
I’m off to Omaha (through Atlanta, of course) then a 30-minute drive to Wahoo, Nebraska, where I may just meet family members of Gunner’s coffee drinking buddies.
Day 5
When I got to Omaha last night, the sun was setting, so after I walked the 5K it takes to get to the rental car facility in Omaha, it was getting dark. I wanted to see Nebraska, but it would have to wait for today. I found Wahoo in the dark, and as far as I know, I drove across the surface of the moon. It was also the better part of an hour, not a measly 30 minutes. Omaha is the longest city, I swear. It took me half of my drive, just to get out of town from the airport. I’m staying at the only option in Wahoo, and it’s a clean, spacious, well-furnished room. I highly recommend the Heritage Inn to anyone overnighting in Wahoo.
I met Marc at his house just south of town where we made our plan for the rest of the week. Marc has had some training from the state so, again, I’m not expecting to teach much skill. Sarah, a colleague about whom I’ve written before, has been out to see Marc because he applied for a Leader Dog and thought he maybe could use some more mobility, just to clean up his routes.
Sarah is an O&M specialist, as well, and could have done what I did, but she was there for another purpose and had scheduled flights to parts unknown to perform more of another of her many other talents. Because of her short stay, she didn’t get the benefit of staying at the Heritage. Her loss, for sure.
Marc lives about a half mile outside of town and likes to walk to his shop in town. It’s a route that includes both sidewalk and curb travel in residential and commercial areas. Pretty complex and varied, and one with which Marc is very familiar. Being from a small town myself, you learn how and when you can cut corners, literally and figuratively. There are several places (almost all the places) in my hometown where you can cross the street in the middle of the block and no vehicles would impede your progress, nor care if you did, even if they did notice.
Marc has these things figured out, too, but the thing with a guide dog is that they will generalize your crossing in the middle of the block in Wahoo with crossing in the middle of the block in Omaha. If you allow them to get on your couch, they will assume that it’s OK to get on all the couches. So, most of what I’m doing is making sure Marc is as safe as he can be, while keeping the efficiency with which he travels intact.
His shop is a great space. In the middle of 3 other shops, Marc’s is fully plumbed, heated and cooled, and has cable and satellite TV. As I said, it’s a great space. To cool off. To get a bottle of cold water in the middle of a long walk. To catch up on weather, sports, and politics.
(Sidenote: I think I’ve figured out why America is in the shape it’s in right now. When’s the last time you flipped channels on an off day and paid attention to what’s on day-time television? Besides weather and sports, it’s a lot of…nonsense. If one were to pay too much attention to that and not get out into the real world, it could really warp your sense of time, space, and good sense. The weather and sports are even a little sensationalized. Go take a walk, America! Get a pet that needs to go outside and go for a walk. Multiple times a day!)
Marc’s completely restored 1950 John Deere tractor sits in his shop.
Marc also uses his shop to store his 1950 John Deere tractor that he completely restored. This thing is immaculate. It looks brand new and runs like a scalded dog. Very, very groovy. I’ve heard the term “scalded dog” in a few places. Johhny and June cash talk about a “scalded hound” in their duet “Jackson”, and a book I read described Pete Rose’s running in the minor leagues as that of a “scalded dog”, but the first time I heard it was while I was in college at the University of Arkansas (Woo Pig!) from my friend Troy Smythe who always said that his Pontiac Grand Am ran like a “scalded dog” and I’ve used it ever since. It does, however, make me wonder about the amount of scalded dogs out there, being so well-mentioned in popular culture…
Marc and I had lunch at Runza, which is a Nebraska thing. They have hamburgers and hot dogs like most fast food places, and they’ve now added salads and stuff like that, but what they’re known for is a sandwich that is in an oblong bun and filled with ground beef and peppers. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever had. My friend Chelsea, who works for The Seeing Eye, grew up in Nebraska and tells me every time I go that I should eat at Runza. She encouraged me to have a burger this time, and I did. Well played, Chelsea. Well played.
Day 6
If I didn’t have anything else to say about the Heritage Inn, I’d tell you about the water pressure. I turned on the shower and walked off to let it heat up (which was absolutely unnecessary, as I later found out). I heard a sound in the bathroom that I couldn’t identify, and as I walked back in, I discovered that the water pressure is SO HIGH, it had created its own weather system inside the room and storm clouds were forming on the ceiling.
The pressure was so high, I was a little afraid it might take skin off. And it was SO HOT, it would have scalded a dog. It darned near scaled me because I was too stupid to check it before stepping in. I have stayed all over the country at mostly name-brand hotels and none of them can beat the Heritage Inn in Wahoo, Nebraska for pressure of temperature. Fantastic, and a little frightening.
Marc crosses a street in downtown Wahoo
Marc and I did more of the same today, but it was considerably warmer today than yesterday, so it felt like we did more. We’re working on street-crossing techniques, helping to ensure a straighter crossing MOST of the time. If you’ve read this blog before, you know that everybody veers sometimes. The best travelers, the worst travelers, and everyone in between. They all veer sometimes. Maybe the street’s not square, or you lose your concentration, or someone honks, or you got out of rhythm with your gum-chewing. More important is to know what to do WHEN it happens because it will. However, you can decrease your veering at straight-ish crossings with your pace. If you keep a consistent, not necessarily fast, pace from one end of the block to the other, if you keep your feet still at the curb, you will most likely be lined up pretty good for your crossing.
Now, crossing is a whole other matter, and walking straight across open areas is a difficult task. Harder for some than others, but difficult, nonetheless. And, the wider the open space, the harder it is to keep a straight line. Us retinally-dependent people are constantly using our vision to right ourselves and keep us on straight-ish lines. When you take away the ability to see, or even see well, you lose the ability to keep a straight line. What you combat that with is pace.
Think of riding a bike. As long as you keep pedaling, you can keep a straight-ish line without steering, right? Walking is the same way. But once you slow down, or stop pedaling, what happens? You tend to start weaving back and forth. When you’re walking up to the curb and you know it, your mind starts telling you to slow down, to be careful of the curb, and similar things. Fight that feeling, folks. When you slow down, you lose your line. If you don’t have enough vision to line up, your consistent pace is your best friend.
We took our lunch break at the local Pizza Hut that has been managed by Becky for 50 years! She’s worked there for 52 and has managed for the last 50! Isn’t that something? I haven’t done anything for 50 years in a row besides eat, sleep, and breathe! She came to Wahoo on a track scholarship to Kennedy College, when it was a going thing, got a part-time job at the Hut, and has been here ever since. Well done, Becky! Well done!
Day 7
Wearing a grey t-shirt and khaki shorts, Marc uses his cane to travel on the sidewalk. Several flags fly in the background of a bright, blue sky.
During my time in Wahoo, I spent some time at the courthouse which has a fantastic Veteran’s Memorial park in front. Lots of statues depicting veterans from all the “modern” wars, plus all the names of every deceased veteran from Saunders County. Very sobering. Along with the memorial park, there’s a historical marker that gave me some history about Wahoo.
The origin of the word “Wahoo” is unknown, but it is believed to be a derivation of an Oto Indian word. The Otos were the first American Indians to inhabit this part of the planet, and the Pawnees moved in later. Wahoo is on the original Ox-Bow Trail, the main route between Nebraska City and Fort Kearney passed through here as well. Famous citizens of Wahoo include geneticist and Nobel Prize winner George Beadle and motion picture producer Darryl F. Zanuck. Also “Wahoo” Sam Crawford, born in Wahoo, played major league baseball for the Detroit Tigers and was inducted into the Baseball Hall of Fame in 1957. Not too bad for a town of less than 4 thousand people.
You’ve read this before, but repetition is the biggest benefit of the Orientation and Mobility program provided by Leader Dog. Whether you go to campus or we come to you, you are afforded a ton of repetition. Repetition breeds confidence, and confidence breeds independence. You do anything the correct way enough times in a row, you start to feel pretty good about your ability to do it again. And your ability to do it by yourself. And maybe even to do things that maybe you thought you couldn’t before. This is true of Marc and almost everyone with whom I’ve had the pleasure to work through Leader.
We did the route again today and he really nailed it. Was it perfect? Absolutely not. Did he reach his destination safely and efficiently? You bet he did. And this time, I did what the very first blind person that I ever worked with told me to do on my very first lesson: Back up and shut up. I didn’t say a word to Marc on the entire trip. Just observed from a safe distance. He got to his shop where we met some more of his friends and learned that Bishop Neumann High School marching band will be marching in the 4th of July parade in Washington D.C. later this summer. Wahoo is still making a name for itself.
Marc and I went back on a different route. The city/county/state came through and reworked Chestnut Street a few years ago. Chestnut is the street on which you’d drive through Wahoo if you were going in between Lincoln and Omaha. Anyway, they put in a lot of new sidewalks, equipped with truncated domes at the intersections. We discovered that Marc could use this route to get to his shop, or other places in Wahoo. He’s got enough confidence to do this now.
Day 8
I flew out this morning from Omaha and the severe thunderstorms that were forecasted all week chased me out of town. I guess they chased me all the way to Atlanta and over to Houston. A short delay in Atlanta gave me an opportunity to walk to my gate instead of getting on the cattle car-like Plane Train in the Atlanta underground. Walking gets the kinks out and I got to get all the kinks out because I was as far from my gate as the east is from the west.
I landed in Houston just before the storms hit, Providence once again smiling on me, but I drove my two-hour drive home in the storm. Storms may be bad, but I’m no longer afraid of water falling on me from above. I’ve taken several showers at the Heritage Inn in Wahoo, Nebraska. Storms ain’t got nothin’ on them!
Written by Barry Staford, certified orientation and mobility specialist (COMS)