My father died three years ago and I miss him. And today I miss him even more and wish he were still alive to see David Paterson sworn in as the new governor of New York. Paterson is not only the first black governor of New York, but also the first legally blind chief executive in U.S. government.

My father, too, was blind. He too worked his way up the ladder, becoming a successful investment executive on Wall Street. But that is not what he really wanted to do. What my father really wanted to be was a lawyer. And if he were alive today, he could have become a lawyer. But in 1938, when he graduated from high school after having repeated his senior year, he was told not to bother even going to college, much less law school, because he “just wasn’t the college type.”

The reason for his struggles was not laziness or lack of intelligence. He was slowly losing his eyesight, but no one knew. No eye exams, no eyeglasses, nothing. And no law school. By his late 20s he had little vision left, and was totally blind by his mid-30s.

There are similarities between Paterson and my dad. As was very apparent during his swearing-in speech, Paterson has a fabulous sense of humor. So did my dad. Humor was frequently his way of bonding with those whom he could not see. He could not see faces, but he could hear voices. He could not process visual cues, but there is no mistaking a laugh. And when people laughed with him he knew there were smiles on their faces.

Paterson also has a terrific memory. Since he couldn’t read from paper or teleprompter, he had to memorize and improvise, and that he did flawlessly. My dad also had a terrific memory. Ironically, he used visual mnemonics to remember long lists of items while the rest of us relied on written notes.

My son is hearing-impaired and his grandfather was an inspiration to him. My dad always told my son that when one sense is weak, other senses become stronger. My father couldn’t see, but he sure could hear – especially me when I was trying to sneak in late at night.

He also advised his grandson to try to do the things that people assume he won’t be able to do, because when you succeed at those challenges you’ll appear doubly successful. My dad had been told he’d never be successful at anything, so his significant success made him seem like he could accomplish anything he put his mind to.

How far we’ve come. The Individuals with Disabilities Education Act and significant changes in our educational system now make it possible for young people with disabilities not only to make career wishes, but to actualize those wishes and take their places in jobs that were unimaginable for them even 20 years, ago, much less 70 years ago.

My father was once called by a New York politico and asked to run for office on the party’s slate. Then the politico found out my dad was blind, and withdrew the offer.

There’s been a lot of talk about “hope” during this campaign season. Paterson is an exemplar of hope for so many of our young and not-so-young people with disabilities. If he can do it, so can they. Maybe “it” is not politics, maybe “it” is a job at a local store rather than in a sheltered workshop. Or a role in a movie, or a job

as a receptionist or in a national park. But we can see in this gentleman someone who reached beyond what many may have thought were the limits of his potential and all can consider him a role model.

As Helen Keller said, “It is for us to pray not for tasks equal to our powers, but for powers equal to our tasks, to go forward with a great desire, forever beating at the door of our hearts as we travel toward our distant goal.”

My father would have been proud.

Lynne Williams is a lawyer in Bar Harbor.