Dear Debbie,
You're probably getting a slough of letters and cards and so on from lots and lots of folks, folks who have been in the wainscoting for years and haven't bothered to contact you, and are only now coming out of the woodwork to make their presence known and to tell you how your father touched their lives. If you will permit me, I'd like to do the same.
I find it interesting that Mr. Hinrichs, yes I'm fifty-seven, and he's still Mr. Hinrichs, has been on my mind for about three weeks. No, I didn't know he was leaving us. I'm not gifted with second sight even though some idiots figure that since my regular eyes don't work I have been given the gift of prophecy. No, what brought your dad to mind was a comment made in the D&C by the COO of The Center For Disability Rights. He said, "We're not responsible for the safety of our consumers."
As sometimes happens to folks, once I stopped seeing red, I was sitting on a folding chair on the floor of the old, Harley Barn Building, and it was the day before Thanksgiving. Your dad was standing up in front of the assembly and he was saying, "You can't have freedom without responsibility!" Clear as a bell those words rang across the intervening forty-five years. They confirmed my righteous anger against these yahoos who think that independence is something you just put on like some kind of jacket in the morning!
Then, I happened to be chatting on the phone with Jan Costello, class of 68, and she told me about your dad's passing. Yes, I probably have the printed announcement here, but trying to find printed material in this house is, um, rather difficult. Anyhow, her announcement brought to mind many Candelights and many graduations, mine not the least. Not only those, but a singular incident when your dad when to bat for me against The American Red Cross. Yep, the American Red Cross, or its representatives decided that even though I had been running the Teen program for kids at Harley for a year, I couldn't go to their Leadership Training Camp which was being held at Bran dice University that summer. Why? Because they had no idea how to deal with somebody who was blind. Oh, Debbie, I remember this so clearly, and it's been forty years ago. Bobbie Rugg, remember her, was my advisor for this volunteer work I was doing for The Red Cross. I was passing her little domain in the basement hallway and she called me in to tell me that she'd gotten a call from the lady who ran the program and that I couldn't go. Needless to say, I was rather upset about it all. This kind of thing is earth shaking to teens, and especially to those of us who have a keen sense of self worth and confidence. To have this idiot woman from The Red Cross telling me I couldn't go to the Leadership Training Week because I was blind, after I'd spent summers at Camp Onanda, Camp Wapanaky in Vermont, and so on and so forth made me angry and feel extremely low. I had been rejected because I was blind.
I remember leaving Bobbie Rugg's office and making my way down the hall and around the corner to the stairs by your dad's office. I must have looked awful! He happened to be looking out the office door, saw me and called me in. "What's wrong?" he asked.
I explained the whole story, sobbing the while. "Let me see what I can do, Ann," he told me. "You go back to class and come see me tomorrow morning."
I left and returned to class, went home and so on warmed and strengthened by my advocate. Well, the next day came and I was passing his office again. It wasn't time for our appointment, but he saw me in the hall and called me in, and he was laughing! He was chuckling to beat the band! He was, in fact, laughing so hard he could scarcely tell me the story.
Seems that he had gotten the name of the Idiot Lady from Bobbie Rugg, and he had called her. They had quite a conversation apparently, during which I guess that Mr. Hinrichs told the twit that I was perfectly capable of coming to her Leadership Training Camp for teens and that she shouldn't worry about me or my skills at all. Finally, at the end of the conversation, she said to him, "But I have a question."
"Yes?" replied your dad.
"Well, if we have a fire drill, how is she going to find her way down the stairs in the dark?"
After he delivered this singular twiticism, he started laughing again, harder than ever, and then, I was laughing too. "Ann," he said. "You don't need to go to this camp. You don't need to deal with these people at all. You're already a leader."
So, I resigned. I wrote a nice, short resignation, and I left that volunteer position. This incident was a small thing, something I suppose he may have forgotten over the years, but to me it was a big thing, an enormous thing that somebody other than my parents would fight for me. So, you can put this into your compendium of stories about your dad and the multitudes of students, teachers and parents he touched over the years. He was truly a wise and compassionate man, and the world is a smaller place without him in it. Do take care and be at peace. May God bless you and all your family during this difficult time.
Ann P.
