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Ollie Cantos
2002/2003 WINTER EDITION
IN THIS ISSUE
Olegario "Ollie" D. Cantos, VII
General Counsel and Director of Programs
American Association of People with Disabilities, Washington, DC
Board Member, Blind Childrens Center
Blind Childrens Center Class of 1975
It was a cold Wednesday evening in early December, the beginning of my very first winter in the Washington, DC area — more than 3,000 miles from what used to be home. Never before in all my 32 years had I experienced a snowfall, but that was about to change.
The night was quiet, and the snow was scheduled to come around midnight. Since I was up anyway, I waited a couple hours then went outside onto the balcony. It was cold, but the air was crisp. I reached out to put my hands on the railing of the balcony. Sure enough, it was cold but not just cold — it was COVERED with SNOW! I was SO excited! There is a balcony above mine, so I couldn’t feel the snowfall directly, but having full faith in the strength of the railing, I leaned out as far as I could to feel the snow with my palm facing the sky. It felt like little droplets of cold. I was in complete awe. In the tone of a little kid seeing something wondrous for the very first time I said, “WOW!” I couldn’t believe it. Rather than seeing snow having fallen after taking a long trip to the mountains from my Southern California home, the snow came to me!
I put on shoes and a thick jacket and almost ran to the elevator to go down to the first floor. I saw the familiar guard at the front desk. All I could say with a smile was, “Wow, the SNOW!” He could see that it was obviously my first snowfall, and he said, “Well, Ollie, if you liked what you’ve seen so far, there’s more of it outside!”
I ran outside to the front of the building and immediately felt the snow beneath my feet. It was incredible! I walked out and listened. Nothing. Not a sound. Total silence, except for the very faint sound of the flakes landing on my jacket which, by this point, I was especially grateful to have worn (against my worse judgement).
I put my bare hands on the ground ever so carefully to not disturb what must have been a slate of white with no markings whatsoever. I then cupped my hands to gather some snow and marveled at how it felt — powdery and light but yet increasingly difficult to hold. As my hands started to lose feeling as if they were falling asleep, I rapidly gathered more snow. I packed it together. All I could say was, “Wow!” I was all alone outside in the snow in the middle of the night, but I felt like I was one with my surroundings. The feeling was one I had never felt before. It seemed like I stood out there for a great while, but later realized I was outside for only a few moments. I guess, in looking back, it was as if time stood still and the whole world stopped to greet the coming snow.
It’s a little thing — snow. Particularly in places where snow is especially heavy and abundant, many people around the country would have gladly relinquished some of theirs to me. But, as I began to hurry inside with the cold starting to overtake me, I carried with me a token of my first snowfall — a snowball, the size of a golf ball.
In a rush to preserve its existence, I carried that snowball up to my apartment and, with the utmost care, I placed it in the freezer. It’s still there now. A bit extreme to save a snowball? Probably. But, I am a believer in saving momentos of firsts, and this to me was a first for which I had been waiting all my life. In addition to chronicling my experience here, my first snowball from my first snowfall now serves as a tiny reminder to me of the wondrous miracle of what happens all around us, the miracle of how and why things happen as they do, the miracle of how this world gives us so much to appreciate where, even in the smallest of events, we may derive the most profound of lessons.
In my excitement, I called my sister and parents to tell them about my first snowfall and the awesome majesty of it all. The second and only other call I made that night was to Midge Horton, Executive Director of the Blind Childrens Center, an individual who has personally touched my life in countless ways.
I felt it only right to share this unforgettable experience with the ones I love the most. In so doing, it reminded me of all that I have to appreciate and cherish. It reminded me of how blessings abound in our families, our friends, our business associates, and in the lives of those with whom we randomly meet whose individual talents and abilities remain precious gifts just waiting to be discovered — like the snowfall that I had long awaited to experience.
May we always remember the profound reality of how we each have so much for which to be grateful and how, like the snowfall, each of life’s miracles may be appreciated to its fullest extent as we look forward with eager anticipation to the daily gifts that life brings.