As always, lots of questions. (photo by Jamie Ceaser)

On earlier visits to elementary schools in the suburbs, my Seeing Eye dogs would lead me to the transportation station in downtown Chicago to catch a commuter train to get there. Luna’s got it good. Yesterday our friend Jamie gave us a ride. Door-to-door. Many, many reasons to appreciate this so much:

• Freezing temperatures — if Luna and I found ourselves lost or turned around on the long walk,, for just a few minutes, we might have ended up with frostbite!
• Snowy slippery sidewalks.
• Salt (it can end up in Luna’s paws).
• The train we would have needed to catch left at 7:40 a.m., which meant we’d be approaching the train station precisely when commuters were getting off trains and rushing to work.
• And oh, yeah. I still have a cast on my broken right wrist.

Jamie drove us to Pritchett Elementary in Buffalo Grove, bought me a cup of coffee along the way, videotaped parts of my presentations there, and then drove us all the way back to our doorstep in Chicago afterwards. Thank you, Jamie!

The third-graders we visited at Pritchett School were sweet, polite, and very curious. The Q & A part of the presentation was entertaining, as always. A sampling of their questions:

• • Can you remember the names of all the Seeing Eye dogs you ever had?
  • How can you open a door if you can’t see ?
  • How did you get blind?
  • How long did it take you to learn to read and write Braille??
  • How do you write if you can’t see?
  • Do you cook by yourself?
  • How do you drive?
  • Can you write cursive?
  • This doesn’t pertain to you personally, but to all people who are blind, I guess: what happens if you are blind and you are allergic to dogs?
  • Does Luna ever bark?
  • If your dog is color blind, and she can’t see red and green lights, what colors can she see?
  • Do you like chocolate?
  • I have a dog at home, she’s not as big as your dog and she’s not black and her name is Luna, too, so how can I get a service dog?
  • How do you know what you’re eating if you don’t see it first?
  • Do you always have to say your dogs name before you tell her what to do?

For that last question, I picked up Luna’s harness and told the kids that when you’re training at the Seeing Eye school they teach you to always say your dog’s name before giving them a command. “If I just say the word ‘outside’ like I just did there, Luna doesn’t even notice, but if I say, ‘Luna, outside’…”. I had to stop talking right there, mid-sentence. Hearing the command, Luna immediately stood at attention and guided me to the door to the hallway! “I guess the Seeing Eye knows what they’re doing,” I said with a laugh. The kids laughed right along and applauded us as we left. Pretty good for her first ever school visit, eh?!

It happens at the end of every year: News outlets recap the biggest stories of the past 12 months. Only this year also marks the end of a decade, so we’re getting recaps of the past 10 years.

This practice has always aggravated me because, well, dividing time arbitrarily by decade has always seemed dumb. For example, 1969 was a lot more like 1971 than it was 1961.

The other thing about this practice is it seems sort of lazy. Instead of covering the news of the day the outlets repurpose work they’ve  already done.

But you know, I’m feeling pretty lazy this holiday season, so what the heck: I give you my favorite Mondays with Mike posts—but not for the decade, only since I started writing these things. And, I’m not going to lie: I couldn’t wade through all of them. Jeez, I didn’t realize how many of these things I’d posted.

So, here’s a somewhat random collection of my own favorites.

And this: I’m thankful to all of you who take the time to read this stuff each Monday. It’s flattering and humbling. Here’s to a great New Year, and see you next Monday.

A very happy anniversary
On the anniversary of Beth’s terrifying brush with mortality, it was nice to take stock.

My morning commute
The wonders of Chicago I experience on my walk to work.

Wayfaring stranger
A tribute to the late, great bassist Charlie Haden.

The saints go marching in and on
Remembering Flo, Beth’s remarkable mother.

The kindness of strangers
A visit with our son Gus at his group home in Wisconsin,

My partner’s partners
With Beth leaving to get her next Seeing Eye Dog a week from today, this one is still timely.

To our dear, wee Sheelagh
We were lucky to know her.

Our version of all right
Reflections on disability.

When Pick met Henry. And Mike and Beth met Henry and Pick…
The story of beautiful friendships.

The day before Whit and I were in Highland Park, kids got to test out wheelchairs in the gym.

I’ve written about Patty O’Machel here before. A writer, special needs advocate and the mother of a teenager who has cerebral palsy, Patty has started her own business to encourage other schools to use the disability awareness curriculum she developed years ago for her daughter’s elementary school. Educating Outside the Lines launched last year, and already many Chicago suburban school districts have added the program to their curriculum. Prosthetic legs, wheelchairs and white canes can be scary to kids, so Patty developed her Educating Outside the Lines program to allow children to experience these “helping tools” hands-on and meet some people who use them. Example: before Whitney and I arrived in Highland Park for our school visits Tuesday, the third graders had used a Braille typewriter to write in Braille. Patty’s program serves to demystify differences, erase isolation, combat bullying.

It’s a great program for the kids who participate, and it’s been great for me, too — Patty has asked my Seeing Eye dog Whitney and me to visit schools we’ve never been to before! And that, in turn, is good news for you Safe & Sound blog readers who enjoy hearing questions kids ask during my school presentations. Here’s a sampling from the third-graders Whitney and I met at Braeside and Ravinia elementary schools in Highland Park, Illinois this past Tuesday:

• How do you get into a car?
• Do you remember what things looked like when you were a little kid and could still see?
• Do you have lots of friends who are blind?
• How do you swim if you can’t see where you’re going?
• Can you play sports if you’re blind?
• Did you ever drown?
• So after you get in the car, how do you drive, I mean, like, there are all those buttons so how can you tell those buttons and how can you know which one to push?
• How old are you?
• How do you get on the plane if pets aren’t allowed on planes?
• So if a friend comes to pick you up, how do you know if they’re there and it’s the right car?

Right then a boy named Alistair raised his hand. “I have an idea for you, Beth!” he exclaimed. “How about if you teach your dog to bark just once if its a friend? And then two barks would mean it’s a taxi, and three barks…”. What a sweet little guy. I hated to cut him off, but hey, we had to get going — there was still another school to visit. “Alistair! You’re a genius!” I gushed, making a point to thank him before breaking the bad news. “One problem, though,” I said with a sigh. “Seeing Eye dogs aren’t allowed to bark.”

Whitney and I are visiting two more elementary schools in Highland Park this Wednesday, so look for more questions in an upcoming post. In the meantime, you can check out this short video to see the positive impact Educating Outside the Lines has on the kids who participate, and Link to the Educating Outside the Lines web site for more information on ways to bring ability programs to schools.

Know how actors prepare to do fight scenes on stage? I do!

Mike joined me for Goodman Theatre’s presentation of the Pulitzer Prize-winning Sweat yesterday — my Seeing Eye dog Whitney led me to the theater early to participate in the audio touch tour before the show.

Still time to see “Sweat” at Goodman Theatre.

Other touch tours I’ve been to in Chicago have introduced me to actors, directors, set designers, stage managers and costume designers, but this is the first touch tour I’ve been to where a stage combat director took the time to show us how a fight scene would play out on stage.

Fight choreographer Matt Hawkins came on stage after we’d been introduced to the Sweat actors. Matt explained how fight choreographers (sometimes called stage combat instructors) minimize the possibility of an actor hurting themselves or their fellow actors while doing stage combat. “It’s my job to make sure the actors understand they never have to make a move in a fight scene that makes them feel unsafe, we actually want them to speak up if they feel unsure or unsafe about a move.”

And with that, he turned around to the actors and asked if they’d feel comfortable going through the play’s fight scene and describing their actions out loud as they performed them for us. “We’ll do it very slowly,” he said. “You’ll take your places, and when I say go you’ll say your character’s name, describe the action you’re doing as you perform it, and react just as you will during the performance,” he said. “You all comfortable with this?” Sounded to me like they all said yes, but just to make sure, Matt called the name of each actor one by one to ask if they were comfortable. Each said yes, and then Matt said “Go!”

”Jason pushing Oscar in the chest!” the actor playing Jason says, and we hear Oscar let out a painful “Oomph!” We hear Chris on the side yelling for them to stop, and then Jason pipes up. “Jason picks up baseball bat!” Then the actor playing Stan says, “Stan  grabs hold of Jason’s arm to pull him back!” Jason says,” Jason shoves Stan’s arm backward,” and Stan says, “Stan falls to his knees!” we hear a thump. Jason actor says “Jason picks up baseball bat, pulls it backward and swings it at Oscar’s stomach!” we hear Oscar moan. “Oscar falls on Stan,” the actor playing Oscar says, and then we hear another actor moaning. Must be Stan…

It continued from there. Before this sample scene started, Matt told us TV and film have convinced viewers that there’s a certain sound that accompanies each blow, but in real life, punches do not make much sound. Spoiler alert here: A woman on stage who is not in the midst of the brawl supplies the sound effect. “Audiences expect a sound,” Matt said with a shrug. “So Jessie times each blow and claps with every punch.”

My description here cannot do this all justice. I fear I may leave readers thinking Steam is a violent play. It is not. The entire fight scene probably took 8 seconds, and it’s the only physical violence in the entire play.

But it is an extremely important scene.

I’ve been to plays with fight scenes before, but at those, all I could do when the fight started was close my eyes, sit back, and wait until the scene was over. I’d have to wait until after the play to ask the sighted friend with me to explain what wwent down.

The touch tour yesterday showed me, an audience member who can’t see, how the scene was choreographed. It also explained how much actors in a fight scene on stage have to do to stay safe. It was fascinating.

Seems to me that playwrights who write fight scenes into their plays must do so for a reason. Maybe a fight scene helps tell the story when words are not enough? Thanks to the audio touch tour sneak preview I got for Sweat yesterday, I was able to take in the message of the entire play. Thank you, touch tour. Thank you, brave actors. Thank you, fighting instructor. Thank you, Goodman Theater Accessibility Services.

Sweat has been extended to April 21, 2019, and Chicago Tribune theater critic Chris Jones says the Chicago performance was better than the one he saw on Broadway years ago. Get more information and buy tickets here.

I’m heading off to beautiful Grand Haven, Michigan today for Sisters’ Weekend, and while I’m away my young friend Ali Krage is stepping in with a guest post.

I met Ali 15 years ago at a “low-vision conference” in DuPage County. “I’m blind like you and I can read Braille and I go to the same school my twin sister goes to, but she can see, can you give me your email address? We can be pen pals!” Who could refuse an invitation like that? Ali was only 11 years old back then. She’s in college now and helps me out by writing guest posts on the blog I moderate for Easterseals National Headquarters.

This one was published on the Easterseals blog yesterday. It’s about the challenges and joys of preparing for a staycation with her boyfriend…when neither of them can see.

Joe and Ali.

by Alicia Krage

For Christmas this past year, my parents gave me a gift certificate for a free night at the Hilton Garden Inn hotel in Addison, just a couple miles from my hometown. This wasn’t something I expected to receive, and I took it as a sign of independence. My parents have always been encouraging about my independent travels, whether that meant visiting friends at local or faraway colleges, or (in this case) staying at a hotel.

They’re also good about letting me figure things out on my own, so they left it to my boyfriend Joe and me to choose the date and figure out transportation. Joe and I spent the next few weeks trying to pick a time that would be convenient to go. The certificate didn’t expire until December 2019, but I didn’t want to wait too long. I was afraid we might forget to use it!

After discussing many options, we finally decided to take advantage of the free time I’d have during spring break and use the hotel stay as a mini getaway. We specifically chose March 14. Here’s a little bit of a fun fact: You might recall that in a past blog post, I explained that Joe and I were casually seeing one another before we became an official couple and went on a few dates. March 14 was the day he asked me out on our very first date four years ago. We’ve never acknowledged this day as anything to celebrate, since this isn’t our official anniversary, but since it landed on my spring break we decided to do something different and use it as an excuse to go to a nice hotel.

After finally choosing a date, it was time to call the hotel. I let the receptionist know that we were both blind, so if there was a way to add a note to the reservation, I would appreciate it if that was added. “Yes, of course!” she said. “I’ll also put ‘special assistance’ so they know they have to help you with things like leading you to your room.” The friendliness in her voice was reassuring, and the hint of familiarity, like this news wasn’t a shock, put a smile on my face as I thanked her and said goodbye.

Next was figuring out transportation. I knew that if my parents were free, they would take us, but I enjoy being independent and traveling on my own. I had a gift card for a local Italian restaurant nearby, so we decided we’d take an Uber to that restaurant first, have a nice lunch, and Uber from the restaurant to the hotel to check in. I used voiceover on my iPhone to navigate through the Uber app to enter in the pick-up location and destinations to get the fare for both trips, and Joe and I agreed to split the fare each time.

The day before our trip, my dad took me to the Hilton to get oriented. Upon arriving, we walked to the front desk, and my dad explained to the receptionist that I had a reservation there the following day and, because I’m blind, he wanted to take me around a bit to get the “lay of the land.” The receptionist said that was fine, sounding polite. We started out by walking to the elevators, then heading to a different floor to look at room numbers.

When I was checking out the Braille sign near the door, I noticed there wasn’t a key hole. My dad explained you simply hold your key card up to the door. “It’ll be scanned to unlock the door for you.” This was a relief! It meant I wouldn’t have to request for a corner to be cut on the room key so we’d know how to insert it. After checking out a few more rooms, we headed to the first floor to look at the pool area.

We couldn’t go into the pool area (you needed a key to get in) but my dad was able to look through the window to give me a description of the layout. After practicing these routes a few times — from the elevators to the pool, from the pool to the elevators, and the elevators back to the front — I was even more excited.

Find out how the hotel stay goes when we publish Part Two later this week.