Ricky Jones and Pearson

On the morning of October 1st, 2008, Ricky Jones was heading to the bus stop on his way to work.  Ricky stopped at the corner of a frequently encountered intersection, carefully listening to the traffic until he knew he had the right of way.  As he began to cross the street, he heard a car approaching, but assumed the driver would stop at the red light.

The driver of that car was talking on his cell phone, and never saw the light – or the blind man with a cane crossing the road.  He hit Ricky, throwing him twenty feet from the intersection.  Ricky’s shoulder and ankle were badly broken and his MCL was torn.

Ricky returned home after a long hospital stay and intensive physical therapy.  His injuries were discouraging; he was barely able to walk and did not have the strength to turn a doorknob.  More disconcerting than his physical injury was his fear to travel outside his home.  As he grew stronger and was able to walk longer distances, he became overwhelmed with anxiety.  He would tremble at street corners, often praying that he would make it to the other side safely.  Outings with his three-year-old child were out of the question; how could he look after his son when he himself had so much angst?

Ricky applied for a guide dog from Guiding Eyes in early 2009.  He said that at that moment, he realized he needed to take control of his life, and to return to the normalcy he enjoyed before the accident.

In June, Ricky was matched with Guiding Eyes Pearson.  He remembers the hesitancy associated with picking up the harness, and how hard it was to let go of his fear.   As Ricky and Pearson began to connect, the trepidation slowly faded away.  The pair crossed an eight lane street while training in Manhattan, a feat that seemed impossible only a month before.

Ricky returned home to Nashville in early July – to his job as a life skills instructor, to his volunteer position at the Tennessee Association for Blind Athletes, and to his family.

“When I got home, I went straight to the corner.  A little nervous to say the least, but with Pearson it was only a little.  Nothing like the fear just five weeks earlier.  We step off and took the crossing with no problem – we even stomped on the sight where I was hit.  When I got to the other side, I just sat at the bus bench – first to praise Pearson, and then to reflect on where I had been and where I was then.  I am manly enough to admit that I cried.  I swore at that place never to live in fear again.  The best part was when my son hugged me and said, ‘now you’re not afraid, right daddy?’”