A bit over fifty years ago, I almost performed in an opera. It was the winter of 1965, and it had not been a real good year for me. During the summer I spent five weeks in the hospital due to glaucoma. The result was the loss of my little remaining vision. In schools for the blind at that time (or at least at mine), if you had some sight, you were expected to help those who had none. If you had none, you were expected to get helped. Those who could see were asked to do more things, and I had just been moved from one group to the other. I was not pleased, and in fact, was fairly upset by the change. After all, I knew what I could do, and I was determined to continue to do those things, even if I didn’t see any more.