Recency Bias
I believe that because of my blindness, I live recency bias each and every day. Until this topic, however, I did not have a word for this most necessary way of life. From the moment I rise in the morning, until the slow slide toward sleep at night, I have a mental inventory of my environment. There is a rather fixed location for everything I own. My ability to function in an affective and timely manner depends on mentally predicting where what I need for a specific task will be and having it actually be there.
After living in situations where this was very easy to do: either because I lived alone, or because I lived with others who respected this, or by living with those people who did not or could not have said respect, I have decided I will no longer compromise recency bias in my home. It is the one place it must exist. Most fortunately for me, my partner is in agreement, and for this, I am truly glad.
When I venture out into the sighted world, I am immediately made aware that recency bias is definitely not in effect. It is as if there is a huge conspiracy against me out here. I am not considered which translates into being unwanted.
When I was first learning to travel independently with a cane and later with a dog, things were very different. Sidewalks ran from one street to another and were kept reasonably clear so they could be used for walking, which I have, up until recently, thought to be their primary, perhaps only purpose. This is no longer something that can be counted upon. Sidewalks are now places for a myriad of objects. These include, but probably are not limited to: newspaper boxes, mailboxes, cement planters, ashtrays, poles which may or may not contain signs, but which nonetheless are poorly placed, and a variety of tables and chairs for restaurants and cafes. Most of these tables are very small and flimsy. One nudge from a knee, a dog’s body, or a white cane will send these tables skittering away from their occupants which displeases them as they watch their food and drink move swiftly out of their reach. I allow myself to be amused by this last, because otherwise I would be consumed by anger and sadness at the thoughtlessness of their location.
Even in the winter, there is no break from the unpredictability of sidewalks. Snow falls evenly from nature’s skies. My seeing counterparts, however, do not appreciate this equanimity and must make sure that as much snow as possible is placed on sidewalks and especially at the street corners where one would get on and off of them. As the years go by, this becomes more and more hazardous. There are more people and, because people who are blind are a small minority, this means more people driving and more cars. This makes walking impossible from about mid November to sometime in April, hopefully. This, of course, depends on where one lives, but Michigan is definitely a winter state that fits this scenario.
When the snow is melted, the construction crews can go to work and they are seemingly everywhere I might want to go. On one hand they move frequently, meaning they will not be in the same place in a few hours, on the other hand, their frequent movement does nothing to make it easier for traveling without vision.
I cling to the hope that something will stay the same. When I first learn an area, I try to figure out on what corners public bus stop signs and garbage cans will be found. These items are both quite important. The reason for the first is obvious if one needs or wants to use public transportation. The second is necessary if you use a guide dog and do not want to walk into your favorite neighborhood coffee shop or restaurant inadvertently carrying a bag of something undesirable that your dog deposited while on route. This happened to me once because I knew where a garbage can had been. It was in the same place for months and I used it on a regular basis. This day, however, it was gone. I didn’t believe it, but someone else walking by confirmed that it had been taken away. It was now, as the passerby put it, “Down a ways and over there”. Neither of these most useful descriptors are going to work for me since I cannot see the jerk of the head or the pointing finger. I no better than to explain this, however, because recency bias tells me my explanations have not worked in the past and will not work today. The location of garbage cans can never be predicted; the stupidity and thoughtlessness of a vast amount of humanity, however, seems to be far to dependable.