To Serve My Country #BATeenCast

The following podcast was recorded for use by customers of Minnesota’s State Services for the Blind. You can get more information about State Services for the Blind and the services it offers by going to www (dot) mnssb (dot) org. (music) To Serve My Country, from Future Reflections, a publication of the National Federation of the Blind by Evelyn Valdez I want to thank Carol Castellano for inviting me to speak today. I really appreciate my New Jersey family that has always believed in me! My story is a bit different from some, so I want to give you some background on how I came into the blindness game. I did not grow up as a blind child. When I became blind at seventeen, and I'd hear other blind students talk about the camps they went to where they had lots of friends, I couldn't relate. I had never gone to those camps, and I felt left out. But I brought into play some other experiences. I think my parents were a bit shocked when I started to go blind. They didn't know how to react. I know I had a little pity party for myself. I felt really bad! I was seventeen. I ran track, I played softball, and I was a heavy-duty ROTC girl--the Junior Reserve Officers' Training Corps. I was going to be a Marine. I had chopped my hair really short, and I was super BAD! Nobody could touch me. I worked out every day. My brother was my hero. He is a US Marine and two-tour Iraqi veteran. I'll never forget the day I sat down with my Marine recruiter to take the test. All of a sudden I couldn't see the test any more. I didn't know what to do! I lied to the staff sergeant. I said, "I can't take the test today; my head is hurting really bad!" He said, "But Evelyn, if you don't take the test now, it will push back your time for going in." I kept insisting that I couldn't take the test because I had a terrible headache. I walked out of there defeated. I said to myself, "This is the only dream I have!" Ever since I was a little girl, I knew I was going to be in the military. Period. I had no Plan B. So now I kept asking myself, "What do I do?" I started to think about how I could do something in my life that was military related, but I wasn't mentally ready. I had to come to grips with the reality that I was now a blind person. I didn't know anything about blindness. The only blind person I knew was me. When I met the National Federation of the Blind of New Jersey, I met people who believed in me before I believed in myself. With the encouragement of mentors in New Jersey--Ever Lee Hairston, Joe Ruffalo, Carol Castellano, Jerilyn Higgins--I began to realize that blindness was not a big deal. All these blind people I met were just doing their thing. Everybody was working and walking around with canes and cooking (no one cooks better than Jerilyn!) and I thought, "How are they doing it?" With their encouragement, I learned blindness skills and started going to college. I held onto my dream of doing something related to the military. I knew that I could no longer join the Marine Corps, but I knew in my heart that some kind of military work would surface. I just didn't know how I would make it a reality. In college I majored in education. I loved teaching kids and helping them problem solve. Problem solving had been instilled in me ever since I was a young child. During college I became more and more comfortable with myself. When I became really good at using the cane, my father said to me, "I want you to go into New York." "Okay," I said. He said, "Just get there. If you're not sure what street you're on, give me a call and I'll let you know where to go." My dad came from Peru, and he lived in New York for many, many years. He really knew Manhattan! I called him a couple of times for help. It felt so good when I didn't have to call him anymore to ask him where to go! I had begun problem solving by myself. I didn't know the terms that are used by orientation and mobility (O&M) instructors, terms like mental mapping and structured discovery, but I was using those techniques. Fast forward to 2012, when I made the decision to go to the Louisiana Center for the Blind for further training in blindness skills. It was the best decision I ever made! I had gotten four months of training in New Jersey. I knew it was adequate, but I wanted more. We have high expectations in New Jersey! I knew I could travel and meet challenges, but I wanted more than I had had so far. The only way my life would really change was for me to get training in Louisiana. Twice the state of New Jersey denied my request to go for further training, but I advocated for myself. I fought to the very end and got to go to Louisiana. That's where my life changed completely. Sometimes people are very content in life. They think, "This is okay." But maybe it's not okay. Sometimes people think, "I don't want to leave here, because I'm comfortable where I am." We have to set the bar higher for ourselves and understand that there is so much more. My personal agenda hadn't changed. I still wanted to do something military. I had been applying for positions with the federal government to do emergency preparedness. I wanted to get out of the field of education, and that was the avenue I chose. I wanted to get a job with FEMA (the Federal Emergency Management Administration) working with people with disabilities in the relocation process in the event of natural disasters or if we're ever threatened. I knew somehow that the universe would conspire to help me fulfill my dream. Before I left for Louisiana, I made a promise to myself. I told myself that before I completed the program, which runs for nine months, I would have a job with the federal government doing emergency preparedness. Two months before I graduated from the program, the deputy assistant secretary of the Department of Veterans Affairs came to visit our center. He wanted soldiers who had lost their sight fighting in Iraq and Afghanistan to go for training at an elite training center. Of course he went to the Louisiana Center for the Blind! When he came to the Center, I made sure he met me first. I actually waited outside for him. I introduced myself and shook his hand. The first thing he said to me was, "You are not from down south! You must be a Yankee! Where are you from?" I said, "New Jersey." That was it. He said, "I have an office in Eatontown." As we walked inside, I said to myself, "He is the man who is going to get me where I want to go." Later that morning he asked me, "How far are you in your training?" I said, "I have two months left, sir." He said, "What are you going to do when you finish?" I said, "My vocational goal is to do emergency preparedness for FEMA or another federal agency." "Well," he said, "I'm going to hook you up. Why don't you come and do emergency preparedness with the Department of Veterans Affairs?" Just like that! He said, "Send me your résumé." Five months later, I was in Washington, DC. Did my dream become a reality? It did! I had been applying for jobs with the federal government since 2009. I never gave up. I kept applying and applying. I went on an interview, but I didn't get the job. I wasn't sad about it. When you go on a job interview, you're practicing. When I didn't get the job I thought, "It's not for me right now, but the opportunity is going to come." And the opportunity did come at last. I want kids to understand that when people say, "That's okay, we'll do it for you," or, "That might be too hard for you; maybe you should think about something else," say no! If you want to be a teacher or a doctor or a lawyer, go for it! Don't let anything stop you. Yes, sometimes people will knock you down. To this day there is discrimination. We encounter it all the time. But you have to believe in yourself. It's important for parents to let their children make mistakes. After I became blind, my parents would watch me when I walked down our street. If I walked past the house, they let me figure out that I had gone too far. I lost my dad in September. I left to start my job in Washington a month after he was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. I said, "Are you sure you're going to be okay?" He said, "You go to Washington. Don't worry about me. This is what you wanted to do." I said, "I always wanted to be a Marine, and now I have the chance to serve veterans." My dad was a veteran who served in the US Army. He said to me, "You're going to do this work. Don't worry about me." I felt a little guilty when I left, but I left with the reassurance that my dad was very happy that my dream had finally become a reality. Before I lost him in September, I went up to New Jersey to the veterans' hospital where he was. I told him, "I'm doing it, and I know you're proud of the woman I have become. I couldn't have done it without you!" Kids, understand that your parents are proud of you. They're proud of you no matter what mistakes you make. They might not tell you, but they do worry. My parents didn't know any parents of blind children, but they did the very best that they could. I signed them up for Future Reflections, and my mom gets the magazine to this day. When they saw my name a couple of times in the magazine, I know my parents' eyes lit up. I knew they were proud when they saw pictures of me training in Louisiana. I knew they had learned the philosophy of the National Federation of the Blind through me. I met the organization through my New Jersey family. I can't be more thankful! When we walk, we never walk alone. Wherever I travel, I never walk by myself. All the members of the National Federation of the Blind are there with me. We are one collective unit that advocates for blind people. We are the voice of the nation's blind.