“Life leaps like a geyser for those willing to drill through the rock of inertia”.
In first grade she woke up in the morning, dressed in stretch pants and a bright paisley shirt, gave her hair a quick run-through with the comb, and then stood for inspection before her older siblings. On the way to school, she rolled down the hill, gathering up grass, leaves, and burrs. After dusting off, she walked into the classroom and found her desk. No one said anything until the report card came. “I always got an unsatisfactory mark for ‘comes to school neat and clean,’” she points out. “It drove my mother crazy.”
That’s not a remarkable story until you learn that Lois Collins’s parents were both blind. They knew ...