Eyes for the blind

She can see with her eyes, but Carole Means often reads with her hands – moving them from left to right across the page, feeling the patterns of raised dots with her fingertips.

Means is a Braille-phile, if such a word existed. She loves the tactility of the code, invented 180 years ago by a blind Frenchman named Louis Braille. She takes pleasure in its order, precision and the logical, mathematical quality of its 63 dot-combinations.

“It seems to fit all the nooks and crannies of my brain,” said the Spokane resident, who often finds herself transcribing billboards and signs into Braille in her head. “I don’t know how else to put it, but I just really love the language.”

One of the few certified Braille transcribers in Eastern Washington, the 68-year-old Means is also the keeper of a dying legacy.

Decades ago, dozens of retired seniors and others used to volunteer at Father Palmer Memorial Braille Services, a division of the Lilac Blind Foundation and the only service in Eastern Washington that transcribes materials at no cost for people who are blind and visually-impaired.

Now, Means is the only transcriber left.

Nationwide, Braille literacy is also on the decline.

A generation ago, at least 40 percent of blind schoolchildren used Braille, said Nancy Niebrugge of the Los Angeles-based Braille Institute of America. These days, it’s less than 20 percent, she said.

The decrease is due partly to the popularity of voice-activated computer software, audio books and other advances in technology. Braille advocates like Niebrugge also attribute the decline to the mainstreaming of blind students into public school programs. Children benefited from the integration, she said, but a lack of resources coupled with the shortage of qualified Braille teachers discouraged students – especially those who were visually impaired and could read large print – from learning Braille.

“Could you have passed your algebra class with an audio text book?” asked Niebrugge. “How do you take notes if you can’t write anything down? To not learn Braille if you’re blind is to be illiterate. … Learning Braille isn’t just important, it’s critical.”

According to statistics from the American Foundation for the Blind, there are approximately 55,200 legally blind children in the United States but only 5,500 use Braille as their primary reading medium. On the other hand, at least 1.5 million blind and visually impaired Americans use computers, according to the AFB.

In the 1960s, the Father Palmer Memorial Braille Services had as many as 30 regular transcribers, according to newspaper archives. In 1989, that total was reduced to 15. For the last few years, Means has been the sole transcriber.

The fact that she’s the only one doesn’t necessarily alarm her, she said; it just keeps her extremely busy.

In 2005, Means transcribed a total of 8,933 pages. In 2006, she did 10,121.

These days, Means averages about 1,000 pages a month and takes everything from children’s books and business memos to college textbooks and novels in French, German and other foreign languages. To keep up with the demand, she works about three to five hours a day, both from her home and the office.

Right now, she’s plugging away at “The American Journey,” a 700-page history book with complex maps, charts and graphics. When she finishes transcribing that for an eighth-grader at a local private school, Means will begin work on the student’s science book just in time for the fall. (Textbooks in Braille can sometimes cost as much as much $3,000 – an expense that most families can’t afford.)

In between those hundreds of textbook pages, Means also finds the time to transcribe meeting notes as well as “Calling Doctor Amelia Bedelia” and other children’s books for people who want to read out loud to their grandchildren.

“Without her Brailling materials for me, I would not have been able to be independent,” said Ben King, 24, of Spokane. “Her work is one of the reasons why I’ve been successful in school.”

When he was in third grade, King was able to read “The Incredible Journey” thanks to Means. She later transcribed tens of thousands of pages of textbook material for him throughout his years at Gonzaga Preparatory School and also at Whitworth College.

“I consider it my blessing,” Means said. “I believe in keeping busy and giving back to society. … It’s not what you get but what you give that will sustain you in the end.”

A former physical therapist who was forced to give up her career after being diagnosed with chronic fatigue syndrome, Means decided to learn Braille about 15 years ago. It was a task she could do while sitting down, she figured, one that wouldn’t take a toll on her body.

She not only took courses and became certified through the Library of Congress, she also learned from the local experts at the time – about a dozen gray-haired women who volunteered for the Father Palmer Memorial Braille Services.

Originally known as the Northwest Braille Service, the operation was established in the 1940s by the late Rev. James A. Palmer, rector of Holy Trinity Episcopal Church in Spokane. The Episcopal priest was so committed to helping the blind and visually impaired that he learned Braille and taught others how to read and transcribe it. Many of his volunteers were housewives, widows and retired senior citizens. After his death in 1953, these women continued the painstaking process of transcribing books into Braille for free.

The few who were still alive and able to continue working through their late 70s and 80s became Means’ teachers in 1992. Through their example, Means learned how to read the embossed dots on a page. They also showed her how to use a Perkins Brailler, a typewriter-like machine with only six keys. The skill – which takes about a year to learn and many more to master – became almost second nature to Means.

“What they had done was just awesome,” said Means, recalling the millions of pages that her predecessors had transcribed for hundreds of blind people in the Spokane area.

A woman named Rose Blanchard was especially influential to Means. Despite her old age, Blanchard insisted that she and Means learn how to use the computer, scanner and Braille software so that they could work faster and utilize the latest technology to help the blind. Little by little, they taught themselves how to use the programs.

“She was my mentor and hero,” Means recalled. “If it weren’t for her, I couldn’t have done all this.”

Blanchard died while working at her own Perkins Brailler at home in June 2000. She was just a few months shy of her 90th birthday. Means hope to follow in her footsteps – “I’m not going to retire until I’m 90,” she said.

Although she has taught Braille and helped a few others become transcribers, Means usually works by herself now in one of the back rooms at the Lilac Blind Foundation. She feels at home in this space where the walls have just been painted cherry red, where she’s surrounded by shelves full of old binders and spiral-bound books thick with paper embossed with the code.

“I feel like I’m the recipient of their legacy,” Mains said, referring to the women who had worked before her. “I also feel like I’m the conduit, like a bridge to the future.”

Reach reporter Virginia de Leon at (509) 459-5312 or virginiad@spokesman.com.