Dolores Urbank
How BVRS' Low Vision Clinic Helped an Artist and Poet Continue Doing What She Loves
Dolores Urbank, 81, pictured left, has written poetry and painted pictures her entire life. She has been featured in the book, The Best Poems & Poets of 2007. Her painting, Tea Time Chatter, won second place in a state competition. Her poem about Flight 93 will be on display when the Flight 93 Memorial is completed, and she is completing a collection of her poetry and art titled, My Pen Likes to Talk.
Mrs. Urbank and her husband, John, live in Whitehall where they raised their two daughters and where she now reads her poetry to her great grandchildren and teaches them how to paint. And so, when Mrs. Urbank lost her vision in 2007 to macular degeneration and glaucoma, she felt isolated and consumed by grief.
“Writing poetry and painting come from feelings deep inside,” she said. “I didn’t know how I was going to live with the loss.”
Her ophthalmologist, Dr. Ronald Salvitti of Southwestern Pennsylvania Eye Center in W
ashington, PA., referred her to Dr. Erica Hacker at BVRS’ Low Vision Clinic.
Dr. Hacker prescribed telescopic spectacles to enhance Mrs. Urbank’s vision at intermediate distances for painting. She prescribed prism glasses so Mrs. Urbank could read her poetry
from a podium, and the electronic magnification Closed Circuit Television (CCTV), that
projects images onto a television or computer screen, for reading and writing at home. Amy Rebovich, Occupational Therapist and Certified Low Vision Therapist, taught Mrs. Urbank how to use the aids.
“I can’t express how this has improved my life,” Mrs. Urbank said. “Now I can continue doing the things I love. I can be with my family and not be a burden or feel left out. I can never repay Dr. Hacker and Amy for what they have given back to me.”
Above, Amy Rebovich, Occupational Therapist, shows Mrs. Urbank how to use optical aids.
Right, Mrs. Urbank uses a CCTV to paint. In the background is Mrs. Urbank's painting, Tea Time Chatter. The CCTV has a camera that projects anything beneath it onto a large computer screen. The image can be enlarged, or the background color changed for better contrast. With the CCTV, people with vision loss can read a book, read their mail, watch themselves sign a check, or other uses such as with Mrs. Urbank, paint.
Below right, On the CCTV, John and Dolores Urbank view a replica of the plaque with the poem, "The Spirit of Freedom" that they presented to the Flight 93 Memorial museum.
Some Selections of Mrs. Urbank's Poetry
The Spirit of Freedom
(dedicated to the heroes of Flight 93)
The Constitution was made for us
to keep our faith and put in trust
The freedom of press and all the rest
and to our leaders who stood the test
To keep young America highest of all
Freedom for one and freedom for all.
To revive the spirit like before
and not to fear another war
The hope of man will burn the flame
For black or white no matter what name
Our hope for the future must come from within
Treasures of gold to pass to our kin.
The Constitution has given to us
the right to change and keep our trust
The freedom of speech and right to teach
and to look for goals I know we'll reach
To help keep America highest of all
Freedom and peace for one and all...
The Canyon Speaks
I stand alone
looking down the canyon
feeling warm inside
as giant boulders
wrap their arms around me
to sweeten my joy
I looked deep
into the throat
of this amphitheater
colored by many seasons
trapped by many lights and shadows
listening for a sound
Hush, all is silent
I feel the wind
blowing around my face
a veil of grey mist
hangs low over the canyon
and it begins to rain
From the cliffs above
the river looks like
a ribbon of blue
twisting and turning
carving out its path
flowing at its own pace
In silence
I saw the sun go down
the power of this panorama came alive with color
as the canyon posed majestically
It refreshed my soul
I saw this beauty
through sensitive eyes
This is not a vision, it is a joy
never to be forgotten, I was overwhelmed
when in a distance I heard the canyon speak
You will return, you will return
An Easter Blessing
May your life be filled with blessings
May the winds of time be gentle
May the sun warm deep inside you
Let the rainbow shine in your Heart
and until we meet again
May God hold you gently in his hands
The Gift of Love
How beautiful it is today
how can I begin to say
all the things I feel inside
I know that God must be my guide
How can I hold the pendulums' swing
the gift of time will continue to bring
the sunlight, the clouds, the birds in the sky
on a carpet of velvet
that breathes flowers with a sigh
Each new bud, bursts out of the earth
the fine silk grass gives us rebirth
So look for tomorrow but remember today
four seasons will take our breath away
SHARE WITH ME
Share with me
these poems that rhyme
and some that tells
a story sometime.
Poems are filled
with dreams untold
so many secrets
to have and to hold.
I hope you enjoy
these poems of mine
sit down and read
when you find the time.
These simple words
are not brand new
but they were designed
especially for you.
Morning Angels
Dawn opens up the sky
while angels suckle
the breast of morning
without a sound.
Make Believe
What I see with my two eyes
you can never see
for what my mind would like to do
is to escape reality.
Just for awhile I'd like to stray
in a make believe world of dreams
no worries or cares of every day pace
only someone to share my dreams.
I know I have to return to this world
and forget my daydreams gone by
I know these visions were good for me
but now, I must kiss them goodbye.
The Voice of Summer
Summer
is a flower
that is soft as silk
and has a voice
of a violin
Summers' Blush
The blush on summers' face
makes me feel warm inside
as I watch Autumn leaves
blazing with color
Limbs stretching out into the wind
flaunting her dress of many colors
patiently waiting to be noticed.
The wind whistles and begins to blow
Trembling leaves turning in all directions
gusty winds sweeping leaves over the hillside
then dancing to the rhythm of the wind
soon, autumn leaves begin to change
deep purple, gold, cinnamon, red wine
blanketing the earth with many colors
keeping warm seeds for Spring
the season of rebirth
at last autumn trees shaken by the wind
stand alone no longer skirted with color
no longer waiting to be noticed, but
humble, bending low, ashamed of nakedness
the nectar is gone.