As Poet and Teacher James Palmaro’s Vision Faded, His Purpose Began to Shine

James Palmaro believes that God is using his blindness to help others see – and he’s okay with that. Even more, he embraces it.

This is a remarkably optimistic perspective from the husband, father, and grandfather who began losing his vision at age 24 due to the incurable eye disease retinitis pigmentosa. But rather than retreating into despair, James found that his diagnosis ignited his passion for creativity and service, guided by his deep faith in God. Today, he is an active poet, musician, and teacher, and he discussed his life recently on “Christopher Closeup” (podcast below).

Raised in Brooklyn, New York, in a house which included his extended Italian-Catholic family, James noted, “I was born happy. My mother told me I was singing on the street when I was two years old.”

Surrounded by three Catholic churches and schools, James’ childhood was steeped in faith and community, and he remains proud of his home borough, humorously declaring, “I am Brooklyn born, Brooklyn bred. And when I die, I’ll be Brooklyn dead.”

In 1981, when he was out playing basketball, James noticed his peripheral vision was decreasing. He also began suffering from night blindness because his eyes couldn’t adjust to the decreased light. Doctors gave him the retinitis pigmentosa diagnosis and told him that he would eventually go blind. But James didn’t crumble.

“It didn’t devastate me,” he observed. “I had just met my wife, Diane. I said she blinded me with her beauty.”

James’ optimism was unwavering, even as the disease slowly progressed over two decades. “Everybody carries a cross,” he reflected. “That’s the message of Jesus. What do you do? You give up, or you get up.”

Throughout those years of declining vision, James didn’t feel sorry for himself. He continued working his job at the post office while he and Diane raised their son and daughter, and cared for Diane’s parents in their later years. Eventually, James had to give up the post office job because he could no longer read and sort mail. But the man who grew up loving words and wanting to become an English teacher redirected his focus. He had always dabbled in writing poetry that he would read at church events or a Christmas function for the hospital where his wife worked.

But it wasn’t until blindness reshaped James’ world that poetry truly took root. “Because I’m blind, I look at life metaphorically,” he explained. “I have to imagine the world around me. That’s where the words started coming.”

One of James’ works, “The Forest,” came to him almost fully formed while lying in bed. Reciting it from memory, James shared:

“I woke up in the forest,
and I was all alone.
The obstacles seemed endless,
and the pathways were unknown.
The road ahead seemed long and dark
and marked by rough terrain.
Yet, the light came from the darkness,
and a peace poured down like rain.

“I listened to the silence,
and I touched each scent and sound.
As the leaves changed through the seasons,
with time, they fell to ground.
And I found my way to reasons.

“Each step I take reminds me, here, the ground is like a poem,
and the forest that surrounds me
has now become my home.

“I made a bed from the fallen leaves.
I cleared away the stone.
And I woke up in the forest,
and I know I’m not alone.”

The poem reflects James’ own journey. He noted, “Blindness taught me patience and staying in the moment…I’m a better person because I’m blind. I wouldn’t be the poet I am if I was not blind, nor the musician.”

Before losing his sight, James had never played the harmonica. Today, it’s one of his favorite instruments. He also discovered a gift for teaching, which led him to volunteer in public schools, Catholic schools, public housing, and a program for children of incarcerated parents.

As someone who can aptly be described as a “people person,” James never considered shutting himself off from life because of his blindness. “We are living in a time of disconnection,” he stated. “But volunteering brought life. I tell anybody out there who’s retired: don’t stay home. You’ve got so much to offer.”

James also believes his journey has been guided by something greater than chance. After Mass one Sunday, when his vision was mostly gone, James went to pray at the altar, saying, “Jesus, God, tell me what You want from me because I’m going to be just blind.”

He noted that he wasn’t sad about it; just that he wanted some divine guidance. Soon after, his life opened up to music, poetry, and teaching.

One of many providential encounters in James’ life came in 2017 when a friend invited him to a talk by Sister Ave Clark, a popular speaker and author based in the Diocese of Brooklyn. After her presentation, James introduced himself and mentioned that he wrote poetry. That meeting blossomed into a creative partnership that has led to him contributing poems to more than a dozen of Sister Ave’s books. “I could have walked out,” James reflected in looking back on the event. “Why did I go up to her? That’s providence.”

Other encounters also led to unexpected opportunities, such as joining a children’s theater, performing music during COVID lockdowns, and starring in “Stoop Chat,” a short film that has won multiple awards and screened at festivals worldwide. “If you want to believe in God, if you think there’s some intervention, that is evidence in my life,” James said.

James would love it if people would put themselves into his shoes. “Close your eyes for a day,” he challenged. “See how you listen better. Pay attention. Depend on others. Slow down. That’s important…People underestimate me because I’m blind. They pity me. I don’t want your pity. I want you to understand. We all want to be known for who we are in the short time that we have.”

In line with The Christophers’ motto, “It’s better to light one candle than to curse the darkness,” James’ advice for those struggling with the large or small difficulties that life inevitably brings is simple: make connections, embrace challenges, and cultivate gratitude.

“When I finally lost my sight,” he recalled, “I said, ‘Let’s go, Jimmy. You’ve got life. You’re a miracle. Everybody who’s born is a miracle’…Would I like to see my wife and grandson again? Of course. But I’ve got so much to be thankful for…If you lose your sight today, are you any different a person? The talents you have are still in you. Why not share them?”

(To listen to the full interview with James Palmaro, click on the podcast link):