Fred's Head blog from the American Printing House for the Blind

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Our APH museum has a lot of braille-writing tools. We have the first successful mechanical braille writer, invented in Illinois in 1892. We have handwriting guides and slates in many shapes and sizes. We even have tools for writing in other systems that competed with the Braille system in the 19th century. So when Lisa Parker of Wellston, OH went online in search of information about her great grandmother's strange old clipboard and that stack of dotted cards, it did not take her long to stumble across our website.

Her great grandmother, Maude Gilliland Burton, had had an interesting life. Blinded at birth by a doctor's mistake, she had attended the Ohio School for the Blind in Columbus from 1900-1907 but returned home to graduate. She married a local farmer, Walter Burton, raised a son on the family farm they bought from her parents, and from all accounts lived and worked a normal life. Her family remembered her abilities to cook and work around the farm as "almost magical." But her time in Columbus was a virtual unknown to the family. And how the metal frame with its odd little windows fit into that story was another mystery.

Parker had done her homework. She thought the dots on the stack of cards looked different from the braille we use today. We were able to confirm that the cards were written in New York Point, a dot system introduceded at the New York Institute for the Blind in 1868. Most schools for the blind in the U.S. used New York Point, and it was taught in Ohio until replaced by braille after 1910. Maude Burton's wooden and nickel-plated brass desk slate was set up to write in the New York system.
The Parker Family decided to donate the slate to the Printing House Museum in memory of Maude Gilliland Burton. One of the embossed cards contained a cryptic cookie recipe that you can find here

By: Dr. Ron Milliman


As a university student, one has to take a few courses, maybe even a lot of courses that tend to lack intense interest. Okay, let's just say it the way it is. Some courses are just plain boring, the book is boring, the class is boring, the professor is boring; everything about it is boring.
Now, if they are boring to you and me, and we are supposed to be intellectual scholars seeking every little possible morsel of knowledge with the utmost enthusiasm, can you imagine how boring, totally uninteresting, those courses must be to our guide dogs?

I was working on my Ph.D. at Arizona State University, majoring in marketing with supporting areas in economics and quantitative systems.

Now, how exciting does that sound? Okay, admittedly, some of the econ and stat courses left a bit of excitement to be desired. Anyway, I was enrolled in Dr. Plantz's Advanced Macro Economic Theory course. Just the name of that course should put you in the party mood, right? Well, maybe not.

Anyway, Dr. Plantz had the habit of totally ignoring the bell when it rang, signaling the end of the class. He would just keep right on lecturing, like he was totally tone deaf of the bell's ringing frequency. My guide dog, Holly, would lie next to my chair at the end of the row. She would just sleep or whatever guide dogs do during an Advanced Macro Economics Theory class. Holly was an exceptionally good dog. She was an exceptionally quiet dog. In fact, I very, very rarely even heard her bark.

Oh, she would snore when she was sleeping, and sometimes in class, I would have to nudge her with my foot to arouse her from that dream of catching squirrels in the woods or whatever dogs dream about.

Dr. Plantz was lecturing, telling us about how the Gross National Product was correlated with the movement of the prime interest rate or some such theoretical construct when the bell rang, telling us that the class period was over, and it was time to go to the next class, go graph a hotdog, or whatever the students did when leaving Dr. Plantz's classroom. But, Dr. Plantz just kept right on lecturing, drawing a graph on the chalkboard, changing the prime rate from six to five percent, and showing how the GNP would go up by some amount.

Then, it happened!! Holly got up and shook her harness as loudly as she could as she looked directly at Dr. Plantz. She was tactfully, that is, as tactfully as an 87 lb. long-haired, German Shepard could be, telling Dr. Plantz that the class period was over, and it was time to go home and get some doggie treats or maybe a hotdog from the student union. Dr. Plantz, however, just kept on lecturing, ignoring the bell, and even worse, ignoring Holly's tactful reminder to Dr. Plantz that the class was officially over, at least, as far as she was concerned.

After a few seconds, Holly simply said: "Enough is enough, Dr. Plantz. I have heard all the Advanced Macro Economic Theory that I can take for today!" She started barking as loudly as she could, louder than I ever heard her bard before or since! Dr. Plantz, literally, ran to the far side of the room, and while frantically waving his arms, he yelled: "Class dismissed."

We all filed out of the room and over into the elevator. My classmates were all saying: "Good dog, Holly; Way to go, Holly; three cheers for Holly." After that day, Dr. Plantz was mysteriously able to hear the bell when it rang at the end of class!!

By Phyllis Slater: 2000-2005

GOD GRANT ME THE SERENITY TO ACCEPT THE THINGS I CANNOT CHANGE, COURAGE TO CHANGE THE THINGS I CAN, AND THE WISDOM TO KNOW THE DIFFERENCE.

Since the first article, my vision has continued to deteriorate to the point where those deli counter signs are no longer legible.

The girls at the counter know me well enough to offer suggestions. Bless their patience, even when the store is busy! It is amazing how many of the store employees I’ve come to depend upon have relatives with RP or MD (Macular Degeneration – another vision thief.)

Back to things I can’t change, such as my Retinitis Pigmentosa, and the things I can change such as letting others help me. The wisdom to know the difference involves educating myself on how to live as a blind person. Believe me when I say I treasure the sight I still have, but to avoid fear of what’s to come, it is important to learn how to function as a blind person.

About six months after my diagnosis, I found the Michigan Commission for the Blind. They recommended I attend a weekend seminar at the Clarion Hotel. The purpose is to introduce blind individuals to some technology, daily living aid products, personal maintenance and social skills. This was to be my first experience with other blind people.

Before the Clarion seminar I signed up for intensive work at the MCB Training Center. The waiting list was nominally one year but within five months, I was told a training slot had opened up. Naturally, they gave me one week to accept the opening or go to the end of the waiting list. Without hesitation, I accepted and started packing.

The Michigan Commission for the Blind Training Center is in Kalamazoo, Michigan, right across the street from the Western Michigan University campus. A converted elementary school, the facility now