In her cramped office in her modest North
Lawrence home, Lynda Canaday's face lights up remembering the day they
met. The office is stacked floor to ceiling with bibles, cookbooks, and
sheet music all in brail.
As she recalls the day more than 16 years ago, her husband Jim moseys in, bumping into the door jam, to offer her some peanut butter cookies. She puts her shaky hand out searching for his. After a few seconds the two hands meet, and Lynda puts the cookies down on her worktable.
Lynda, 55, and her husband Jim, 49, are both
blind. He is white. She is black. He is from Oklahoma. She is from
south-central Los Angeles. An unlikely pair.
Yet, the connection they share is undeniable.
When she speaks, he remains still. He stops petting their yellow
Labrador Darby and moves closer to her. Although she won't ever see it,
a huge smile lights his face.
The Canadays are part of the rapidly increasing
blind population in the United States. More than four million Americans
currently live with blindness or severe visual impairments. This year
alone, 50,000 will go blind.
"I have seen my clientele increase ten-fold since
we first started in 2002," said Cathy Piper, founder and director of
First Steps for the Blind, a Kansas City non-profit that provides
adaptive services to the blind in the area.
Lynda leans back in her leather rolling chair and recalls her first encounter with Jim.
"I thought, oh my God, this guy is weird," she
said of the first time they met. They were attending a training program
at Guide Dogs for the Blind in San Rafael, Calif.
They were on the bus. It was a hot summer day. As
she sat down all she could hear was a guy listening to a police
scanner, while going on and on about his ham radio hobby.
"I knew there was something about her the moment she sat next to me," Jim said.
Later that day, while standing in line, Jim
checked on Lynda knowing that she wasn't feeling well. She leaned her
head on his shoulder as he stood in front of her.
Throughout the next few days, Jim kept checking
up on her. The two whispered back and forth while they attended
lectures. She would later find out that Jim was only just starting in
his role as a caretaker.
He seemed to be everywhere that Lynda went. One
night, they stayed up chatting well past midnight. Before they went to
bed, Jim leaned close to Lynda and told her that he found her very
attractive.
"I was flustered. I hadn't had a relationship in many years," Lynda said.
After
the program ended, Jim and Lynda went their separate ways. Jim went
back to Lawrence where he was working on a master's degree in clinical
psychology at the University of Kansas. Lynda headed back to Los
Angeles.
Jim visited Lynda on Thanksgiving, about four
months after they met. He proposed. Lynda soon moved to Lawrence in
1992 where they married and began their life together.
Lynda and Jim both said that since then things
have not been easy. Lynda describes their life as an unimaginable
series of ups and downs.
The two have both struggled with severe health
problems in addition to their blindness. Jim suffers from congestive
heart failure and Lynda from a rare neurological disorder and severe
back and knee problems.
At one point, Lynda was ordered to six months of
bed rest. Stuck in a hospital bed in the living room, Jim waited on
Lynda hand and foot.
"For a very long time, I was her sole provider," Jim said.
The two tried to have children for more than five
years. After a series of doctor appointments, Lynda found out that she
would never conceive. Years before in California, Lynda suffered
through sexual abuse and rape that resulted in her infertility.
"I'm 55 now, and if it were somehow possible to
have children, I would jump at it," Lynda said. She wipes off a tear
that runs down her right cheek.
Lynda suffered severe depression. She always felt
like she lost out on what she thought was a promising career in music.
She tried attending classes at the University, but felt that no one was
willing to help her. So she dropped out, shutting the door on another
dream.
Things got so bad for Lynda that she tried to end her life. After going
five days without food or water, Lynda entered court-ordered therapy.
"I wanted to die. I decided I had nothing left to live for," Lynda said.
Jim stayed by her side through it all.
Lynda said that things are much better now.
Bob Fuller, member of the Douglas County chapter
of The National Federation of the Blind (NFB) , credits the couple with
resurrecting the once-failed chapter.
A friend, Bob praised them for helping so many
people throughout the community by providing awareness, support and
encouragement. Lynda serves as president and Jim serves as
vice-president.
Lynda spends several hours per day working on her
NFB responsibilities. She writes chapter reports and answers emails.
She sits in front of her computer that has no monitor. She navigates
the web with her fingers. A woman's British accent is heard as Lynda
moves from one email to the next. Everything a sighted person would see
is read aloud electronically for Jim and Lynda.
Jim sits at his desk in his nearby office.
Braille and audio books line the shelves of his office. A wobbly metal
shelf holds the remnants of Jim's ham radio days. Darby sits on the
tile floor at Jim's side.
Jim said he loves reading and writing. He is
working on an original short story that he hopes to get published. When
Jim reads a funny email he forwards it to Lynda who reads it next door.
The two can't seem to leave each other alone.
While Jim and Lynda greatly rely on technology, they said that they still use Braille every day.
"Technology can not, and probably will not ever replace the everyday use of Braille," Jim said.
Because Lynda was born blind and Jim was not, she
is much better at reading Braille. Jim lost his sight at the age of 13.
His teachers forced him to use a magnifying glass as his sight
declined, instead of teaching him Braille. He did not start learning
Braille until he was completely blind.
Jim types this week's grocery list on his
Braillewriter. The steel machine rapidly creates small bumps as it
moves across the stark white paper. Jim pushes his fingers across the
paper to check the list.
Jim recalls losing his sight as a young boy. He
had several birth defects in each eye that slowly eroded away his
ability to see. He said it was tough going through that at such a young
age.
Lynda still hasn't let her blindness hold her back.
"This is all I've ever known," she said.
Jim comes back in to deliver Lynda's afternoon medications. He won't leave until she has taken them all.
Lynda now spends her time in her office collecting
and re-writing recipes she reads in magazines and online. She also
reads the Bible regularly. Eighteen notebooks hold the Braille version
of her King James Bible.
Cooking is a passion of hers. She is writing her
own Braille cookbook. She has over 100 recipes that she has written and
tested.
"Jim taste tests everything, and he has a very discriminating pallet," Lynda said.
She also stays active with music. From her cramped living room, she teaches voice lessons. Having once been on the verge of a promising vocal career, Lynda has let those dreams go. Now, she takes pride in the accomplishments of her students.
Wearing a white ribbed tank top and a bushy grey bear, Jim's jovial spirit still amazes Lydna. She still seems amazed that he was there through it all. Lynda said he never once complained.
"I think in many ways he really could have done a lot better. He's put up with a lot from me," Lynda says.
"You want some more of those cookies Lynda?" Jim yells from next door.
"Jim, I haven't even finished the first ones you gave me," Lynda laughs in her soothing alto voice.
It's the little things, she says. He still hasn't stopped taking care of her.

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