There are few accommodations I request or require to get by, but when you can’t drive, a chunk of the American world is closed to you. The remainder of my limitations are far more subtle.

You probably want to know what I have.

I had cataracts removed when I was young, before they were putting in artificial replacements for children. My points of focus are the ones dictated by my glasses. I can’t drive. I can barely read a street sign when standing under it. For reading, my glasses are necessary but not sufficient. And then there are more complications which I may elaborate upon as they come up.

Psychology tells us that the slightest suggestion will cause us to react differently, taking a cue to judge the preceding events and color our decisions. I prefer it to go unsaid. I’ve always preferred to have people know me before they presumed to, by knowing something about me. Those who don’t know will eventually notice, and those who do, eventually forget. I hope that they will overlook or perhaps not notice the subtle cues I miss, the reactions I don’t exhibit. I know that there is a great, and exceedingly subtle loss. I know that when I communicate with people face-to-face, my handicap is not insignificant. Neither I nor they will be able to recognize the full impact.

Things are a little easier at the range. There are a lot of target acquisition options for both pistols and rifles. We’re playing around with the spotting scope or webcam. I can see the paper targets, but not the holes made in them. Once we solve that problem, a trivial matter of equipment, I’ll have the feedback to allow me to dial it in.