Musician faces blindness, life with joy "I hope my life is a blessing to people, and that they understand I do have a disability, but I am not disabled."

Randy Joe Davis is a joyful human being. Though he can no longer see it, a twinkle glistens in his striking blue eyes, and his infectious laughter lifts the spirits of anyone within hearing. The seemingly endless repertoire of Three Stooges jokes and one-line anecdotes flow easily into his conversations, as do his affirmations of faith.

"God has been good to me," Davis declares, "much better than I deserve, and every morning I thank the Lord for His mercy and grace because His son will always shine."

A Bloomfield resident, local bluegrass and gospel fans will know Davis from his unique banjo style. He is a regular participant at the monthly jam sessions at Sadler Chapel near Dexter.

"I was born with what is called congenital glaucoma (or childhood glaucoma), and was always under the care of a vision specialist. There is no history of it in our family," he explains, "though it can be genetic."

"There are four of us children -- an older sister, a younger brother and our baby sister. I was the lucky one," he chuckles.

His joke is sincere, with no hint of sarcasm or resentment in his laughter. Davis is okay with the hand fate dealt him, and carries no feelings of self-pity.

"I try to make the best of my situation," Davis says. "My dad used to say that all you have to do is look around to find someone who is worse off than yourself, and I have found that to be true. There are going to be down days, of course, but you can't stay down. You have to pull yourself back up and go on.

"You can choose to be happy or sad, but why be sad when you can be happy?"

Around 1992 or 93 Davis lost vision in his left eye, which had always been weak. Since his right eye had compensated for the weakness in that eye for so long, he did not realize what had happened.

"The left eye condition was discovered when the pressure in my eyes started getting really high. I told the doctor I felt like a Goodyear tire," he says laughing. "I had surgery to relieve the pressure and with thick bifocals I could still see to read and get around."

Davis was considered a 'high partial,' meaning he had severely limited vision, but was not legally blind. He had voluntarily stopped driving several years earlier.

Facing work with declining vision

Even though his eyesight was impaired, Davis was able to do a bit of cabinet-making and paint and body work. Since he couldn't drive, he did those things on the side. His neighbor did paint and body work, so he would prep the cars for him.

"I've always been a hands-on worker. With my limited vision I could do the more meticulous jobs that required close-up details. I would use a magic marker to draw the outlines on my woodworking templates," he explains.

Through the years, Davis has undergone multiple surgeries to relieve the pressure that would build in his eyes, as well as numerous cornea transplants.

"I would have a surgery and would be stable for a while; then, things would begin to deteriorate again," he says.

In 2001, Davis moved back to Cleveland, Tenn., having lived there for a time in the mid-1990s.

"I got a job at Sears in 2002. At that point I could still see, but could tell my vision was changing. Sears was the only company to ever give me a chance. When I would tell an employer that I was visually impaired, I never heard from them," he says matter-of-factly.

Davis would walk the mile or so from his home to work until it got too hot, working as a salesman in the hardware department. He lived with a friend, Rick.

The work was right up his alley, Davis says, and he had a lot of repeat customers.

"Sears was helpful to me, too, because I had trouble with paperwork and things like that, but it was never an obstacle. I was really glad to be working, and stayed there about 2 ½ years," he says.

In the fall of 2002, Davis underwent a cornea transplant that used a double lens.

"I was off work until March of 2003, but the double lens was great for up-close viewing; however, everything in the distance was blurry," he says.

He says that even though he was a short-term employee, Sears kept his job open for him, "I proved to them I was a good worker. I was dependable, and even though I walked to work, I was never late."

Davis says he continued at Sears for another year, but by June 2004 his vision had deteriorated again.

"My boss called me in and we talked about my job and how I did things. As I explained to him the process I used in making a sale -- I would make the sale, but another associate would have to fill out the paperwork, ring it up and handle the money -- I realized that it was time for me to leave," Davis says. "Maybe that was his goal, maybe he was going to let me go, but in the end the decision was mine, and I am grateful to this day for the opportunity that company gave me."

Davis said he continued to live in Cleveland, but moved into his own place. In 2005, he had another cornea transplant.

"When I looked out my back door after that surgery, I was amazed to see there were apartments behind me. I had never been able to see them," he laughs. "That surgery helped for a while, but by early 2006 my vision had deteriorated again and I had another procedure. That one pretty much wiped me out."

Davis says that as his eyesight declined, he learned to adapt and learned to do things in a new way.

"A lot of being able to cope is just common sense," he observes.

"People ask the funniest things," he chuckles. "Someone asked me why I don't wear dark glasses. I said, so that you can see my pretty blue eyes!"

"Life is pretty much what you make it," he reflects, "and I want to appear and be as normal as possible."

Born in Kennett, he was raised around Ft. Meade, Florida, and lived in Florida, Georgia and Tennessee before making the move back to Missouri in 2016.

Davis has relatives in Dexter -- his mother's brother and sister. Gene Brown and Joyce Green are his aunt and uncle.

"I always wanted to get back to Missouri, so when I started thinking about it, they helped me find a place," he says.

He moved first lived to Aquilla, but now lives in Bloomfield.

Music and purpose

"I started playing the banjo in 1991," he says. "I went to church with my friend Rick, and his grandpa, who played several instruments, was in the group that was playing. When he picked up that banjo I fell in love with the sound of it. Within a month I had purchased one of my own -- bought it for $75 at a flea market."

Davis says he is pretty much self-taught.

"I bought some books, but they were too confusing. Earl Scruggs is my hero. I would listen to his recordings, and I just figured out how to play on my own.

"I've often wondered that if I had not gone to church with Rick, if I ever would have gotten interested in a banjo," Davis muses.

He says that once he learned to play, he was able to get into groups, which he really enjoyed.

"Rightpath Bluegrass is the last group I was officially with before I came up here. They helped me with my vocals -- not that I'm a great singer or anything," he chuckles. "I was with them for 5 ½ years."

Davis says that when he arrived in the Bloomfield area he was having a difficult time finding a place to jam.

"One day I was in the post office and I asked if anyone knew of bluegrass/gospel jam sessions. A gentleman in line behind me told me about the monthly gathering at Sadler Chapel outside Dexter. My aunt took me, and once I figured out that it was not a closed group and anyone could play, I have been going ever since," he says.

In addition to jamming with the Ringer Hill group on the third Thursday of each month, Davis also occasionally plays at Trinity United Methodist Church in Bloomfield.

"I think blindness has really helped my playing," Davis speculates. "It has made me more 'in-tune' to the music, so to speak."

Daily challenges met with common sense

Davis lives independently, relying on friends for occasional transportation and assistance with grocery shopping.

"Other than that, I take care of myself," he says.

Usually in bed by 7:30 p.m. and up around 4 a.m., Davis says he is a morning person and enjoys the early day and morning sounds.

Even though the laundry room is in the basement of his home, he does all his laundry, cooking, and cleaning.

"I have my spices lined up in a certain order above the stove, so I know exactly what I am adding to my recipe," he says.

He explains that he primarily wears black pants -- because they go with everything, and has his shirts arranged by color.

"I have a color sensor, though, that I use on my clothes if I am unsure about what I am putting on," he says.

Modern technology has opened up a whole new world for people with disabilities, Davis says, and he has even been able to master social media. The voice over feature on his mobile phone allows him to make and read Facebook posts; send and receive text messages; and post his musical videos to YouTube.

"I have to go back and proofread my posts, though, and by proofread, I mean it is dictated back to me, because sometimes what I have said is not recorded correctly," he says.

To film his videos, Davis's aunt helped him arrange a chair directly across from his sofa, and showed him where to place the mobile phone to record; however, he did not know about camera reverse.

"The first time I filmed I had great audio, but the picture was the wall behind the phone," he says laughing.

Davis can be found on YouTube at Banjo Randy, and on Facebook at Randy Joe.

Davis has a computer, but he doesn't have internet, so he relies on his phone to keep him connected with the outside world.

Besides his social media interaction, Davis enjoys listening to audio books, and says his favorites are westerns and cookbooks.

Reflecting on his decision to live independently, Davis says, "I could have people come in and do those things for me that I choose to do for myself, but why should I? I am capable, and I thank the Lord that I am able to do it. I hope my life is a blessing to people, and that they understand I do have a disability, but I am not disabled."