When he thinks about his future life after office, David A. Paterson, the legally blind governor of New York, is most unsettled by something more elementary: how to cross the street.
For years, a small army of state employees has done for Mr. Paterson what his predecessors did for themselves: they read him the newspaper, guided him up stairs and around corners, fixed his collar when it was sticking up, and even grabbed a quart of milk for him at the supermarket.
Many politicians who leave office struggle to adapt to civilian life, with its everyday letdowns and indignities — the sudden absence of solicitous aides and gun-toting bodyguards, jam-packed schedules and an ever-ringing telephone. But for Mr. Paterson, who can see nothing out of his left eye and only color and large objects out of his right, the transition will be extraordinary: after three decades in government, he must now relearn the basic routines and rituals of living on his own.
Hey, "Governor" - get over yourself.
There are plenty of blind people who have to deal with all those fears that you listed in the Times every freaking day who don't whine and complain to the Times.
Instead they bravely go about their lives, ask for help when they need, do things on their own when they can.
I know, because I have a friend who is in this position.
I am always amazed and inspired by the everyday courage of blind people who manage to live their lives in New York City.
You, on the other hand, are a privileged whiner who needs to STFU.
Frankly, Governor, you're lucky you're not going to jail for the actions you took in the abuse case involving your wife-beating aide or the Yankee tickets you stole because you thought you were due them.