I am often asked one or two questions. The first question is, “How did you lose your sight?” and the other is, “When did you lose your sight?”

I did a lot of motivational speaking and usually started my presentation by presenting and answering these two questions.

Miss Coke was my first-grade teacher, and I would say that she liked me so much she kept me for another year. Seventy-plus years ago, teachers were not trained to look for problems with kids. She told my mother that I was not ready to move on since I wasn’t paying attention. Little did they know, I couldn’t see anything on the blackboard.

I find it interesting that in the early 1950s, blackboards were black and they used white chalk. In the mid-1950s, all blackboards were changed to green with yellow chalk. This was supposed to make it easier for kids to read. I would have disputed that claim.

During the summer, one of my mother’s friends noticed something about me and suggested that Mom take me to an eye doctor.

At the time, eye doctors had no idea what retinitis pigmentosa was. He told my mother that I would grow out of it in a few years. I’m still waiting to grow out of it.

He did prescribe a pair of glasses. I remember walking home with a lot of difficulty—the sidewalk looked as if it was on a steep angle, and I felt as if I would fall.

When we arrived home, I walked into the living room and asked, “When were the flowers put in the carpet?” I remember Mom hugging me and starting to cry. She had no idea I was having trouble seeing.

Although I had a hard time adjusting to the glasses, I loved them because they allowed me to see things I never knew existed. They didn’t give me 20/20 vision, but they gave me much more than I had without them.

It was about ten years later, at Wills Eye Hospital in Philadelphia, that they put a name to my condition: retinitis pigmentosa.

Now, the question about when I lost my sight is interesting. Since retinitis pigmentosa causes a slow deterioration of the retina, my vision deteriorated over many years. So my answer is, “I don’t know.”

I usually use this analogy: In the summer, after work, you may sit in your yard or on the porch and it’s still light out. Later, you go back inside to get ready for bed, and it’s dark outside. When did it become dark? The change from sunny to dusk and then to night is so subtle.

When I was married and we purchased our home, I could sit on the front porch and see the outlines of the windows and doors, as well as the color of the buildings across the street. Quite a few years later, sitting on that same porch, I realized I could no longer see the shape of the doors and windows. And many years after that, I could no longer see the buildings at all.

I do see by memory. So, if someone tells me there’s a blue chair in the room, in my mind’s eye I’ll visualize a blue chair.

I also tell this funny story: One day, my wife decided to rearrange the furniture. When I came home from work, I went up and over a chair. So, for over fifty years, the furniture was not rearranged—except at Christmastime to make room for a tree.