by Allen J. Casey
Many of you reading this tribute have known Wayne Yelton far longer than I have. I first met Wayne and Pat four years ago at the monthly meeting of the Alamance Council of the Blind in Burlington, N.C.
This was my first meeting, my initial introduction to the community of the blind and visually impaired. I knew nothing about the Alamance Council, the North Carolina Council or the American Council of the Blind. My ignorance, however, was short-lived. For reasons I still do not understand, Wayne decided I should become involved in the council’s work. And he put me to work on one North Carolina Council of the Blind committee, then another. He constantly challenged me to learn more and do more.
Wayne’s leadership style was unlike any that I had studied as a student or taught as a college lecturer; it was not the textbook model. But it worked. His presidency of the NCCB was marked by hard work, unfailing optimism, getting the job done, prodding others to achieve, and by moving on to the next task. It was simple, unadorned, straight-up, effective leadership. And he accomplished so much. He gave us a stronger, more visible, financially sound organization, one to which we were eager to belong and to commit ourselves.
Wayne spoke his mind, openly and frequently. He could be blunt when the obvious and necessary were not done. He was skilled at twisting arms. He was persistent. The more someone turned down his requests, the harder he pushed for a positive response. Most of all, he was committed to protecting the rights and meeting the needs of all people who were blind and visually impaired.
What was the secret of Wayne’s success? In a few words: His unselfish willingness to help anyone. He helped blind and visually impaired people without concern for self-interest, without expectation of reward, without limitation on the intensity of his commitment.
Each of us who knew Wayne wish we had spoken to him just one more time. I, for one, would thank him for challenging me to contribute my time and talents. I would thank him for giving us a clear vision of our mission in a world in which most of us do not see well, or see at all. I would thank him for all that he did on behalf of the blind and visually impaired in North Carolina. Most importantly, I would thank him for being a good friend.
As I reflect on the past four years and the untimely passing of Wayne Yelton, I am reminded of former presidential adviser Kenny O’Donnell’s poignant memoir of his association with the late John F. Kennedy, “Johnny, We Hardly Knew Ye.” The title of this remembrance reflects the sadness of loss, the bond of friendship, the manifestation of respect.
And so it is with Wayne. He left us too soon with much remaining to be done. Though the voice is stilled and the light extinguished, the memories fill our minds, and the enduring legacy guides us.
Wayne, my friend, we hardly knew you.