When my taxi from the airport arrived at the Miami Lighthouse for the Blind and Visually Impaired, I was feeling uncharacteristically apprehensive. The purpose of my first visit to the Miami Lighthouse was to officially kick off a major consulting project. In a few minutes I would be meeting Virginia, who had been the Miami Lighthouse’s first blind president and CEO since June 2005, after serving in an interim, pro bono capacity for the prior four months. Most consultants probably feel a slight tingle of danger at the prospect of working with a whole new cast of characters when beginning an engagement, but I had an unaccustomed case of nerves when I got out of the cab that morning.

In retrospect, I realize my trepidation had to do with Virginia’s being blind. Although I had briefly interacted with a handful of blind people in various consulting engagements over the years, I had never worked closely with a blind chief executive in my twenty-five years of nonprofit consulting. So on the taxi ride from the Miami Airport, I found myself worrying about small things that seem a bit silly in retrospect. Was the subject of her blindness off-limits, or would it be appropriate to ask her about the history of her losing her sight? If we walked down the corridor together during my visit, should I take her arm? During the buffet lunch that was being served in the conference room during my meeting with Virginia and her top executives, should I offer to fill Virginia’s plate? Not knowing the rules of etiquette really bothered me, since unwittingly committing a faux pas is not my custom, and the last thing I wanted to do was offend my new CEO client.

So I announced myself at the front desk in the Lighthouse atrium that September morning in 2006, keenly anticipating my first in-person meeting with Virginia Jacko, but feeling unusually apprehensive as well. Informed that Virginia was on the phone and would be out to meet me in a few minutes, I began to stroll around the spacious reception area, looking at the photos of current and past Board chairs.  Probably ten minutes had passed when I was startled to hear, “Doug Eadie, it’s great to meet you at last!” Turning around and seeing Virginia for the first time, I was taken aback. “She is blind, isn’t she?” I thought to myself. “Of course she is, you idiot, there’s her guide dog.” But for a couple of seconds, seeing her radiant smile, her bright blue eyes looking directly at me, her outstretched hand, I wasn’t sure. After I walked over and we shook hands, Virginia turned and led the way down the corridor to her office, her guide dog, Tracker, at her side, briefing me on the day’s agenda as we walked, and after returning a couple of phone calls, she gave me a personal tour of the Lighthouse. Thus began a close professional association that has been enriched by our becoming friends and co-authoring a book, The Blind Visionary.

Working hand in hand with Virginia for the next five months, I had ample opportunity to observe her in action in dozens of intensive work sessions. Early-on, of course, I tended to see her as “Virginia Jacko, the blind CEO.” Even in the early days, however, on more than one occasion I would find myself momentarily forgetting that she was blind. I vividly recall a one-on-one meeting with Virginia in the small conference room adjoining her office late one afternoon about a month into the project. Tired after a long day of meetings, I found myself thinking: “Doug, my good man, get a grip! No matter how exhausted you are, you don’t want Virginia to see you looking so droopy that she’ll begin to question your enthusiasm and commitment.” Then noticing her guide dog, Tracker, lying at her feet, I chuckled to myself. Virginia might have sensed the fatigue in my voice — she was a keen listener, after all — but short of a downright miracle, she was not about to react to the expression on my face.

Later I learned that I was definitely not the exception to the rule among Virginia’s sighted colleagues, and I have laughed with her about my occasional concern during our meetings about what she would “see” in my face. Never having spent significant time with a blind person before my collaboration with Virginia, I was not sure what to expect at the onset of our work together. In retrospect, I suppose I brought with me to the Lighthouse a preconceived image of a blind executive as: someone living in a more interior world, more passive than the normal executive, who would be somewhat aloof and disengaged in interaction with colleagues, and who would not be making eye contact with people at the table. Well, Virginia was the polar opposite! Sitting at the head of the table in meeting after meeting, she was a dynamic presence whose enthusiasm was infectious — a commanding leader without the least hint of passivity. Always meticulously prepared, she was clearly in command — asking probing questions, actively facilitating discussion, and neatly tying loose ends. And, what surprised me most early in our work together was that she, her head erect, invariably turned to colleagues when they spoke, looking them directly in the eye. So much for my preconceived image!

As the months passed, I began to perceive a different Virginia Jacko: the blind CEO I had first encountered was transformed in my eyes, becoming the extraordinary CEO who, by the way, happened to be blind. Virginia was clearly an outstanding nonprofit leader: visionary, creative, and decisive. Even if Virginia were not blind, her extraordinary accomplishments at the helm of the Miami Lighthouse for the Blind would deserve a prominent place in the literature of nonprofit leadership and management.

This blog is adapted from The Blind Visionary by Doug Eadie and Virginia Jacko: www.TheBlindVisionary.com.