6
Thursday, June 15, 1972
University Summer Kansan
Leo Buerman
Bo Leuerman, at the age of 70,
although deaf and blind, is a man
who does exist—not on his
physical being, but on a love of
life and people. On the learn to
become a lawyer, he was as did
Lancaster, Lawyer junior.
Lee and Rayna met on a day that would have otherwise been gloomy for both, Rayna, because the depressing elements of their relationship vaded her day. Lee, oblivious to such things as weather, because that day, like so many before, held no promise of the joy a visitor brings him. But, as he was, he didn't want to bother other's warm, joy and love.
Leo, born with acute myopathy and a bone disorder which resulted in dwarfism, has not let his handicap keep him from an
active life. Because of his handicap, school was virtually impossible, but through his family, he learned to be good. Before going completely blind late in life, he started writing an autobiography, but it was never
Leo has used many forms of transportation in his lifetime to give him mobility. One of the things he loves is watching which he crafted himself, complete with baby-buggy wheels and display case It was in this cart that Leo used to sell merchandise on Massachusetts St.
Lee is known not only in the Lawrence area, but also all over the country Catherine Weinaug, a professor of English at Centron, Inc., a Lawrence
motion picture producer, that they make a film telling Leo's story of being kidnapped and as a result Leo's guest book contains the names of people who helped him.
Leo, with the majority of his life now behind him, sits in a cubical room in a rest home. He is awake and mind active, and waiting.
A visit to a rest home can be a depressing experience: the cold stare from a nurse, looking at you with an indifferent sclerite, the sterile hallways and rooms, the melancholy atmosphere all come down at once. An hour with Leo Buermann, however, is far from depressing. He can sit and laugh and he possesses is overwhelming, like the man himself.
Photos and Text by STEVE CRAIG
The light dies in the low clouds. Falling snow drank in the dusk.
Shrouded in silence, the branches wrapped me in their peace.
When the boundaries were erased, once again the wonder: that I exist.
—Dag Hammarskjold
Here rolled f The stu cation, denote
Babah
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