Karen Malin, Donante registrado

Giving my eyes so some child might see...

My grandfather was 23 when he lost his sight and several fingers. Dynamite caps blew up in his hands while working on the railroad coming from the East to the West Coast. After he recovered he left his family and hitch hiked all over the south-western cities selling pencils on street corners. The El Paso newspaper did an article about “Blind Man Jack.” He slept in flop houses and ate in soup lines, sending every penny home to my grandmother and their four children. When they had saved enough, my grandfather bought a parcel of land in Texas. He eventually leased the mineral right to the property to one oil company. One became five and my grandparents were fairly wealthy during their senior years. Their will left the royalties and land to their six children, who have in turn left it to their children. We have all agreed that it would remain in the family until the oil dried up. I am 72 and recently went to an optometrist to have my glasses adjusted. As I was leaving the doctor said my eyes were in great shape. I asked about donating them and he replied, “Without a doubt.” The rest of my body is in very poor shape and would not qualify for donation. Giving my eyes so some child might see is the greatest reason for my death. I go happily.