Monday, December 13, 1998
Advocate's vision improved
opportunities for the blind
BY DEBORAH KENDRICK
The Cincinnati Enquirer
BALTIMORE - It's a remarkable thing, this business of saying goodbye.
We say the things that we knew throughout a person's lifetime, sometimes having been uttered during that era and sometimes not. And usually, there are points that crystalize the meaning of a life that were never before apparent.
It was that way for me when my father died in 1986, when I realized that the operative characteristic of the man was that he sometimes loved too much.
It was that way about my brother-in-law, who died in 1982, leaving three small children and an enormous network of friends: we all realized that the core trait summarizing his life was goodness.
And so it was for me in Baltimore Dec. 5, when I attended a spectacular memorial for a legendary man I never met.
After a year-long struggle with lung cancer, Dr. Kenneth Jernigan died Oct. 12 at age 71. From California and Canada, Egypt and England, - they came to say goodbye to this great disability rights leader.
Blind since birth, he grew to be a 30-year leader of the National Federation of the Blind, a monumental man respected worldwide for his charismatic leadership and ability to effect change.
Dr. Jernigan helped shape many of the laws and opportunities benefitting blind people today. I knew that before going. What I didn't know was the scope and caliber of the man as human being.
From U.S. Rep. Elijah Cummings (D-Md.) came an eloquent message of love and gratitude, thanking Dr. Jernigan for his vision that would see his friend, Mr. Cummings, one day sitting in Congress.
From Kamalia Sadat came the moving reminder that Dr. Jernigan and her father, Anwar Sadat, were members of the same universal team, fighting discrimination against all people who are different. Whether Arab or blind, she said, there is a common bond of humanity.
Details of his accomplishments were enumerated by Marc Maurer, leader of the National Federation of the Blind, as well as by disability and political dignitaries from England, Canada and throughout the United States.
Born in a Detroit in a four-room house with a porch in 1926, Dr. Jernigan's life as a blind child was one of restriction and isolation. It would take years, his brother Lloyd Jernigan pointed out, for the family to let go of the ''loving pity'' that kept this legend on the porch and out of the hay fields in early childhood.
That ''loving pity,'' Mr. Jernigan said, is the No. 1 way in which blind people are stifled by their families.
Kenneth Jernigan went, at age 7, to the Tennessee School for the Blind. When he learned to read Braille, his world on the porch grew to one without limits.
He revolutionized the concepts of rehabilitation and employment for blind people in America - and the program was filled with blind professionals who thanked him for it.
''Kenneth Jernigan loved books,'' came an impassioned tribute from Frank Kurt Cylke, director, Library of Congress National Library Service for the Blind and Physically Handicapped.
''He read books. He collected books. He wrote books. He published books. He distributed books.''
One of his many accomplishments in later life was to publish the ''kernel books,'' small collections of ordinary blind people's stories, as a tool to educate the sighted world about the ordinariness of blindness.
His other accomplishments can be seen in the massive Baltimore structure called the National Blind Center, where seminars and training sessions are held and where the National Technology Center for the Blind is housed. This collection of technology used by blind people is the largest in the world.
The essence of the man was conveyed in the countless memories shared by those who loved him.
Endless stories of the individualized attention and teaching bestowed on countless people whose lives he touched told of a man with unfathomable love and patience and insight.
A spectacular host who collected wines, liqueurs, music boxes, coins and more, always had ''something for you to do'' when you were a guest in his home, said Dr. Fredric Schroeder, Rehabilitation Services Administration Commissioner. He credits Dr. Jernigan for changing his life and sense of his own capabilities as a blind person.
We heard Marie Cobb, Dr. Jernigan's vivacious, middle-aged daughter, speak of a Christmas Eve when, with her own children asleep upstairs, her father impulsively took her to the basement to read her a beloved Christmas story from his marvelous collection of Braille books.
I have followed the work of Kenneth Jernigan for decades, have heard the positions of his many adversaries and friends. In keeping with my own hectic pace and impatience, I passed up opportunities to meet him thorough the years.
I reget it now.
I can read his books and speeches, hear tapes of his workshops and teachings. I am glad for that. Yet, as I listened to tale after remarkable tale of this charismatic man, I was wistful never to have touched his hand or said hello.
Still, I heard his voice, and it changed my life. On a recording years ago, I heard Dr. Kenneth Jernigan say: ''It is respectable to be blind.''
That simple mantra is a cornerstone concept in the disability rights movement. Even without the buildings and programs and books, it would render him historically magnificent.
Empowering people - whether Arab or blind or different in some other way with a belief in personal worth and power - that was the legacy of Kenneth Jernigan.
What could be greater?
Deborah Kendrick, a Cincinnati free-lance writer, is a nationally recognized advocate for people with disabilities. Write: Deborah Kendrick, Cincinnati Enquirer, 312 Elm St., Cincinnati 45202; e-mail: 71340.473@compuserve.com.
KENDRICK ARCHIVE
