A Compliment and a Complaint

The compliment goes to the folks at Red Rose tea.
I was out at my local grocery store today, wanting to pick up some tea bags. The blurb on the Red Rose carton caught my eye. "We are working with the Rainforest Alliance, an independent non-profit organization, to ensure that the tea you enjoy in your home helps improve living conditions for tea growing families and protects the environment. 50% of Red Rose tea comes from Rainforest Alliance Certified tea gardens."
The Rainforest Alliance describes themselves as working "to conserve biodiversity and ensure sustainable livelihoods by transforming land-use practices, business practices and consumer behavior." Sounds good to me, and while I know it's not 100% a fair trade product, I figure it's certainly better than a product with a zero per cent conscience. Red Rose proudly describes themselves as helping to protect the environment, improve quality of life for tea growing families, and improve worker welfare. I say, "good on you, Red Rose!"

The complaint, on the other hand, goes out to everyone who indulges in perpetrating the fallacious nonsense about blind people having extra sensitive hearing. Give your heads a collective shake, you dodos.
I'm sure this myth continues in part because people can feel horrified by the idea of losing their sight. They want very much to feel that there would be something to compensate for the vision loss, something that would help them to make their way through life without being quite so helpless, quite so dependent on others as so many fear they would be if they were ever to go blind. It's a silly belief in a magic wand that doesn't exist.
I have spent a lot of hours around people who are dealing with various stages of vision loss, and I know their ears do not start super-functioning just because their eyes are ceasing to function. Obviously, those who want to believe in some extra-helpful hearing being given to the blind have not heard of Usher's syndrome, for instance. I hadn't either, until I met someone at the CNIB who was dealing with that particular problem. This dreadful condition, in its worst manifestation, can lead to complete loss of hearing as well as complete loss of vision. Where's the magic auditory bullet for those struck with this syndrome?
When people who are losing their vision as adults are being given mobility training, one of the things emphasized to them when they are preparing to cross an intersection is that they should never reach the curb and just step right out. They are taught instead to stop and listen first; to see if they can use auditory clues to determine traffic flow before they step out into it. The bottom line, however, is that while they can use all the "clues" available to them, at some point they are going to have to make a leap of faith, so to speak, and stop off the curb. Of course, anyone who crosses a street can become a sad traffic statistic, but for those of us with vision, we have a little better chance at beating the odds because we can take a last look before we move. Think about it. If you had to rely so heavily on auditory clues to help you survive crossing the street, of course you would hope for some benevolent power to fine-tune your ears. It would be comforting to think that is indeed what happens for those who are blind. The reality of the whole thing is quite different.
Losing one's vision does not result in a magical increase in hearing.