I found this article in the December, 1991 issue of The Braille 
Monitor, published by the National Federation of the Blind. You can 
view the entire issue by going to http://www.nfb.org/bm/bm91/brlm9112.htm.

THE EVERYDAY USEFULNESS OF BRAILLE
                       by Lauren L. Eckery
     From the Associate Editor: We can hope that the time will
come, sooner rather than later, when an article like the
following will no longer be an appropriate candidate for
inclusion in the pages of the Braille Monitor. No one needs to
persuade the sighted about the pervasive usefulness of print; the
case has been made so effectively that even those for whom it is
inconvenient, awkward, or painful struggle to use it. But would-
be Braille-users and parents of children for whom print is not an
efficient tool still need down-to-earth examples of the value of
Braille in the conduct of everyday life. So here are some
practical reminders about Braille from a busy, organized working
woman and mother who uses Braille as efficiently and
automatically as her sighted counterparts use print. 
     Lauren Eckery contributes feature articles to News From
Blind Nebraskans, the publication of the National Federation of
the Blind of Nebraska. They are always lively and interesting,
and many of them find their way into the Braille Monitor. This
one first appeared in the Fall, 1991, issue of News From Blind
Nebraskans. Here it is:
     It is the early 1970s, and my family is traveling by car to
Minnesota for a vacation. Both my mother and I like to read and
crochet on long trips.
     The dimness of the evening sky envelops us gradually, and my
mother stops reading. She also decides she can no longer crochet.
She wants to check the time but cannot see her watch without
turning on the overhead light. She chooses to listen to the radio
or take a nap.
     Meanwhile, in the back seat of the car, I continue my
activities. I read my Braille magazine for a while. Then I
crochet several rows on my afghan. Braille labels help me keep
the different colors of yarn in order. Now and then, I check the
time on my Braille watch, the excitement mounting as we near our
final destination.
     It is the later 1970s or early 1980s. I am singing in my
church choir. During our Thursday evening service prior to Good
Friday, the lights are extinguished one by one until it is nearly
dark in the sanctuary. While the choir sings, I notice a discreet
scramble for notes and lyrics. I continue singing the alto part I
have memorized and reading the lyrics in Braille. Rather than
becoming anxious and embarrassed by struggling to continue the
music, I go on as before, experiencing the special tone of the
service.
     It is any day. I am speaking to a group of school children,
who are interested in what I am saying about blindness: "Given
the proper training and opportunity, blind people can lead normal
lives." But their favorite part of the presentation is the show-
and-tell segment, during which I demonstrate various aids and
appliances enabling the blind to be independent. Their greatest
curiosity seems to revolve around Braille. "What is it? What do
you do with it? How do you read and write it? Is it hard to
learn?"
     Simply telling the children that Braille is a blind person's
equivalent to print is seldom enough. They seem to understand
that Braille can be used in school for reading and taking notes,
but for what else can one use it? Again, to oversimplify, saying
that we use Braille for the same purposes one uses print often
goes uncomprehended. The children want concrete examples.
     At our 1991 annual convention of the National Federation of
the Blind, held in New Orleans, Louisiana, the usefulness of
Braille was one of the underlying themes of our discussions. In
the course of attending convention activities, I was observed and
approached by several new Federation members who were losing some
of their vision. They were grappling with the fact that they
needed to learn Braille. Two young women who spoke with me knew
that it made sense. They had been told that Braille could be
useful to them, but they were reluctant to commit the full amount
of time and effort necessary to learn Braille well enough to use
it on a daily basis. Their lack of motivation seemed to stem from
a lack of everyday examples in which using Braille could be
useful and necessary for them. They, like the children I have
spoken of previously, understood that Braille was useful for
academic and employment pursuits, but what about blind people who
are neither in school nor working? How could they make Braille
such a part of their lives that they couldn't resist learning and
using it efficiently? I was pleased to give these convention
delegates concrete examples and encouragement in the use of
Braille.
     With the advent of our efforts to obtain a Braille bill in
Nebraska, readers of News From Blind Nebraskans and other
interested parties might appreciate some further examples of the
everyday usefulness of Braille in the lives of everyday
independent blind persons. Although the list is endless, here are
some examples which have occurred to me during the writing of
this article:
     Taking telephone and other messages; making grocery and
other lists; keeping telephone numbers, addresses, and other
informational index files; placing Brailled clear plastic sheet
overlays into printed children's books so that blind parents,
teachers, and others can read to blind or sighted children;
keeping recipes, crochet or knitting patterns, and instructions
of various types in Braille for efficient and independent access-
-and the list goes on.
     One can label almost anything in Braille: photographs;
phonograph records; cassette tapes; video tapes; games; puzzle
pieces; food items; medications; printed materials for later
filing; checks; receipts; bills and other documents for
independent handling of finances; household and other appliances;
newsletter mailers; coupons; greeting cards; post cards; gift
tags; yarn, thread, and other needlework equipment; etc.
     At this point one might decide that such labeling mania is
overwhelmingly time-consuming. Abbreviations to the rescue! For
instance, when I label a spool of thread, I abbreviate the color
so that the small label will fit on the end of the spool--"bl"
for blue, "br" for brown, "bk" for black, "gy" for gray, "pk" for
pink. Most blind people use a combination of memory, recognition
by touch, sighted assistance, and Braille labeling for
identification.
     An especially interesting example of labeling comes from my
storehouse of childhood memories. One of my favorite pastimes for
most of my youth was cutting out and coloring paper dolls
freehand. For several years I could see blobs of color well
enough to use a color-coded system for naming my paper dolls
("Laurie" was blue skirt and white top, for example). As my
vision waned and the diversity in the names I chose for these
paper dolls increased, I eventually changed my naming system to
one in which I wrote each doll's name in Braille on it. To this
day, I have a collection of some of those paper dolls. My ten-
year-old daughter, Lynden, has enjoyed looking at Mommy's
collection. She has asked me the names of many of the dolls.
Although I do still remember the names of some of the dolls with
colored clothing by recognizing some other characteristic about
them, reading the Braille names is foolproof. If I had wanted to
continue coloring the dolls' clothing, I could have devised a
labeling system for my crayons and paints, but at the time
Braille was my preferred choice, whether I colored the dolls or
not.
     Years later, as a young adult, I took a cue from my creative
childhood's adaptive technique. When I lost the slight amount of
vision I had, it was simple and natural for me to separate my
yarn colors into individual bags and place a Braille label in
each one for identification. This method works well for
multicolored crochet projects.
     One who is just beginning to learn Braille might feel
exhausted by this incomplete list of examples. But believe me, if
one has no opportunity to learn or use Braille or if one is
limited in his or her creative capacity in devising multiple
practical applications of Braille, he or she can indeed be
illiterate and unnecessarily dependent on others for assistance.
     On the other hand, if we use Braille pervasively in our
lives, we will become experts at reading and writing it just as
print users do with print. One of Lynden's earliest and best
methods for beginning to learn print, besides watching "Sesame
Street," was reading labels and signs in her environment. Why not
make Braille as normal a part of our environment?
     The main purpose for passing a Braille bill in every state
of the Union is to maximize the independence and equality of
blind persons, be they children or adults. Now, who could in good
conscience oppose adoption of a Braille bill once they truly
understood the everyday usefulness of Braille?