I quite literally broke down in tears after signing out from the forum last, they were tears of happiness though.
It is a rare thing when sighted people actually take an interest in the world of the blind; it is even more rare to have sighted people make you feel as if you belong and that my dear sweet friends means more to me than you can possibly imagine. The most strange part of it all is that when I began to tear up, I actually cried tears! Normally, people can't tell when I'm sad because Sjogren's stops my tear ducts from working properly. It's not often than I can cry where there are real tears that fall.
But enough of the tears...
Please forgive me for not checking to see if the postal service had changed their rules on mailings. I didn't even think of it because of all the packages that have been sent to and from my blind friends and me, including a box filled with information about North Carolina for a dear friend's son who was in a classroom of students that were doing a project on different states. He chose North Carolina because that's where I lived. It was during the time I was working as an MT for a national MT company although my reports came from a technological powerhouse hospital with my accounts being in level I trauma, fast-track (think quick-med clinic in the ER), autopsies, death summaries, operative reports, and if all those were out, I fell into discharge summaries, which I hated because they took so much time to get through them all, not to mention the doctors on that floor were mush-mouthed & 'bleeping' hard to understand b/c they refused to open their mouths or stop stuffing their mouths so we the MTs who are responsible for making their dictated notes into transcribed documents that became legal documents once filed either digitally, by hand in a file, or otherwise.
Of all the arranged places I managed to go, I picked him up a real tobacco stick (those things are worth a mint on Ebay! If I had a penny for every tobacco stick I had in my hand over the years I'd be a rich woman today b/c I barned tobacco the old way with cropping in the fields, handling off to stringers, pick-up sticks (young children generally brought the new sticks when the stringers were ready to tie off the last of their sticks. A child handed them a fresh stick or brought twine for the twine holder, and the ones who took the full sticks were 'tossers.' I actually broke my left wrist tossing up sticks. I was the one with the best balance after having run my own nets & crab pots along with working on trawling ships, my love of sailing, and after becoming a moderate rock-climber, I was the best one to take the top rung of the barns. Once, I actually did lose my balance when the guy below me didn't have enough toss on the stick and I missed it, causing me to fall about halfway down the barn where the guy I was seeing at the time caught me mid-fall but in doing so, my wrist snapped even though we caught each other wrist to wrist.; still, I wish I had hung onto a few hundred of those tobacco sticks from those days before they began using those sewing machines & bulk barns. Honestly, cured tobacco tastes better when it comes from an old wood cured barn than it does from a metal barn that looks like one of those freight trailers that go on trucks, trains, or ships!) He was so happy when he got the box, esp his prized possession, which was stick-barn cured sealed tobacco leaf. I also found him a sealed series of soy beans along with various types of raw honey w/a comb in the jar and I had a special jar that had several combs from the hives that were cut into squares, perfect for chewing! It was our chewing gum back in the day! I sent some home-made preserves and jerky made on the Cherokee Reservation. While I was on the Res, I was able to pick up a new pair of soft soled leather moccasins since my last pair had worn down to where they had holes in them. I sent conch shells from the beach along with some pieces of glass that the ocean sand smoothed into beautiful pieces, and I sent him a few leather bracelets and shell necklaces too. The fellow actually made 1st place in his presentation and what he learned from all the information from brochures & various booklets & books on the state, incl'g one on the ghosts & hauntings from across the state with a separate box within the larger box was one for his dad that contained home-made corn alcohol soaked pipe tobacco with a decent but not too expensive hand-carved pipe for his dad, my friend who is blind. All these went through under the "Free Matter for The Blind." It just annoys me that the post office has become so asinine about it.
Yes, I've actually lived near the Res so I knew who to go to in order to find things that might add culture to the things I'd already added to the box because I wanted this generation to know more about the indigenous people who lived here before the English came. It gave me a chance to stop in to see friends I'd made when I lived that way too, esp this wonderful Native American Elder who taught me a great deal over the years, incl'g more uses for raw honey than adding it to tea or coffee or using it for an antiseptic for pimples. It works on cuts and such when prepared properly but that's one lesson I didn't get to learn before she passed away but I have read up on it. I have store-bought honey in my home once and that was when my husband actually bought a bottle. I Immediately asked him what that piece of crap was doing in my cabinet & he said, well we needed honey. I opened the cabinet door below where 7 quart size jars sat with the type written on them and asked him again what he was doing bringing that crap honey in my home! He never again brought or bought store-bought honey again. (grin) Even now, I have 2-4 jars of raw honey in the house although they have all been open b/c the kids came out sometime ago and each has their own preference of honey so they were all opened. Even as adults now, they still cut the chunks from the comb to chew like chewing gum. (big grin).
Again, thank you so much for the kindness, understanding, courtesy, and acceptance. It has taken a lot for me to reach a point where I can actually say the words when I need help. My birth father literally beat that out of me & time helped me regain it, time and an amazing therapist who assured me that asking for help wasn't a sign of weakness. She said to think of it as someone falling & needing a bit of help to get up. Everything comes around sooner or later and we all end up helping others along the line. I guess she's right because i have sent friends home with e-liquids I was trying for reviews and once I pulled enough of the flavor for reviews, I'd send the rest home with others who I knew couldn't afford to buy e-liquids but were doing so well when it came to leaving analogs in the rear-view...
XOXO, to all,
Sammy-Jo
