Wednesday’s guest post by Ali Krage explained how she and her boyfriend make their way to their favorite movie theater, now she’s back to tell you how they liked the show!

by Alicia Krage

Alicia (left) and Joe (right)

We’d arrived very early at the theater, so we had time to sit in our seats, talk for a while and munch on our popcorn. It was about ten minutes before showtime when Joe decided we didn’t have enough popcorn to make it through the movie. He insisted we needed a refill.

I’d never done that on my own before, and neither had Joe.

The two of us spent a good five minutes bantering back and forth about how to make this happen, who was going to go get the refill, did either of us remember exactly where the concession stand was, should we go together, or does one of us need to stay back to save our seats.

And then, all of a sudden, I got this idea. I still had the number we called from the bus on our way there. How about we call them? By then the previews (not movie previews, but the weird entertainment stuff they have beforehand) had already started. Would anyone be around to answer? Even if they did, these previews are loud, would they even hear us over the phone? If they answer, what should we ask for? How could they help us? Who should make the phone call? Me? Or Joe? And do we really, really need a refill?

What can I say? My boyfriend is very persistent. So I called the theater and explained what seats we were in. “We’re both blind,” I explained. “And we need assistance.”

The voice on the phone was the same friendly voice I heard when I called earlier from the bus on our way to the theater. And you know what? It worked! Within a few minutes someone was there and more than happy to refill our popcorn for us.

Now, let’s get to the movie. I can confidently say now it is one of my all-time favorites, but don’t worry: there are no spoilers.

In case you didn’t know, though, this movie is based on a novel called Wonder. It was written by R.J. Palacio and tells the story of August Polman, a boy who was born with facial differences. Augie had been homeschooled up until fifth grade, so in the movie he was starting public school for the first time.

The audio description Joe and I listened to in our headsets during the movie was amazing — they even described what Augie’s face looks like. While watching the movie I felt very fortunate that I was never bullied in school for being blind. But Wonder is not just about looks. It’s an inspirational film about accepting who you are, and accepting others, too. Nobody is perfect, and we need to see beneath the surface.

I was so moved by the movie that I was actually crying when the employee came to escort us out when it was over. Joe took the employee’s arm, I took Joe’s hand, and off we went.

As the three of us exited the theater side-by-side-by-side, the employee asked, “Did you enjoy the movie?” The humor in his voice told me he’d noticed I was crying. I smiled and wiped my eyes. “I did!” I said, a little embarrassed by my tears. “It was my second time seeing it. Have you seen it?”

By then I was back to my enthusiastic self — although I’m sure my face didn’t look very enthusiastic. He said he hadn’t seen it yet, and I recommended it to him. I love chatting with people as they’re guiding me (or both of us, in this case). I don’t like to walk in silence.

While Joe and I waited for our bus home, he kept talking about how much he loved the movie, but of course he also took up right where the theater employee had left off, teasing me about crying during the film. All in all, though? It was a wonderful experience!

This post was originally published on the Easterseals National blog, where you can find these other great posts from Alicia:

7 Advantages of Being Blind

How One Student Who is Blind Planned the Perfect Date
“Dating someone who is blind is honestly not as hard as it sounds”

I met today’s guest blogger Ali Krage at a “low-vision conference” in 2004. “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 earlier today, it’s about the challenges and joys Ali experiences going to the movies with her boyfriend…when neither of them can see.

Joe and Ali.

by Alicia Krage

When it comes to my blindness, one of the most common questions I get asked is, “How do you watch movies?” This is typically referring to how I go see movies at a movie theater.

Movie theaters provide audio description, which describes the movie when there is no dialogue. The description comes through a headset, so it’s not like the entire movie theater is hearing it.

A lot of movie theaters I’ve gone to over the years have given me the device for people who are deaf — that device enhances the sound and provides closed-captioning. The theater my boyfriend and I go to in our college town here in Illinois is great, though. They have never made this mistake. So ever since Joe and I started going to AMC Market Square 10 in DeKalb, I’ve enjoyed going to movies.

When I go to movies, I usually ask my mom for recommendations — she goes to movies way more than me. This time, though, I didn’t need a recommendation. I went and saw a movie I’d already seen!

My family and I went to see Wonder the day after Thanksgiving, and I loved it so much that I immediately texted my boyfriend when I got out of the theater.

I just saw the most amazing movie.

All iPhones come with an app called VoiceOver — the embedded voice synthesizer says each word I type out loud when I press space, so I can hear any errors as I’m typing. I explained the movie to him in short detail before adding three words.

Next movie date?

Joe’s enthusiastic reply came one minute later.

Sounds perfect!

Finals week was approaching. It was difficult to find time between our busy schedules, but one Saturday we took the bus over to the movie theater. One of us always calls from the bus to give them the estimated time we should be arriving and to inform them we’re both blind. I tell them what movie we’ll be seeing and inform them we’ll need assistance retrieving our descriptive audio devices for that movie as well as getting popcorn and whatever else we want at the concession stand. My phone call is always met with a very friendly, “No problem.” We are always met by someone waiting for us when we enter. Every single time.

And so it went on the Saturday we arrived to see Wonder. The manager said hello to us in that tone of voice where you know without them having to say it that they recognize you. We don’t go to the movies all that often, but it seems we are two familiar faces anyway. I could tell how enthusiastic Joe was about seeing this movie by the excitement in his voice at the ticket booth when he said, “Two tickets for the movie Wonder.”

The manager led us over to the concession stand and told us he’d go test the devices while we ordered. I kindly replied, “Please make sure it’s the device for the blind, not the audio enhancement devices.” I always say this a few times, just to make sure I’m getting what I need. The manager assured me he would, and we stayed at the concession stand to order what we wanted. The employee working the concession stand helped with our drinks and put the butter on our popcorn for us. (See? They really go above and beyond here!) When the manager returned, we had another conversation.

• Me, just to clarify: These are the descriptive audio devices, right? It’ll describe the movie?
• Manager, sounding confident: Yes.
• Joe, as per usual: And it’s already on?
• Manager, again confidently: Yes!

We know exactly what questions to ask. Teamwork! The manager led us to our seats in the theater, and going along with the script, I asked, “Can someone please escort us out when the movie is done?” We were satisfied once again when we received the reassuring answer, “Yes.”

Stay tuned for Part Two, when Alicia and Joe need a popcorn refill and Alicia’s resourcefulness saves the day.
Bonus: Alicia gives us a review of the movie Wonder from her point of view.

Beth’s on her fourth Seeing Eye dog now, and I’ve marveled at and, really, admired each one of these incredible animals: in order, Dora, Hanni, Harper, and now Whitney.

Not that they’re perfect. Not by a long shot. They’ve each had their particular weaknesses and strengths. Whitney, for example, will stealthily guide Beth in a way that allows Whitney to catch a whiff of the fire hydrant or traffic light pole or an oncoming dog as it passes, all without slowing down or giving Beth so much as a twitch. (I bust Whitney every time we’re walking together and she forgets about the guy who can see. )

The dogs can get confused, and they make mistakes. People see the mistakes sometimes and my protective self is afraid they think less of these dogs than they should. Because, on the whole, the dogs are remarkable.

I’ve wished everyone could see Beth’s dog doing scads of tricky, nuanced things every single day. Like getting in just the right position to make it easy for Beth to put the harness on every time they get ready to go out. Or weaving through crowded sidewalks. Like finding elevator button panels. Like slowing down ever so gently when there’s a heave in the pavement to alert Beth that something irregular is coming up. Slowing down for ice. And on and on.

They’re trained to go right up to every curb at each street crossing and wait for a command from their partner—straight, left, or right. Sometimes, making a right or left means actually backtracking to get around obstacles or to stay on the sidewalk. They pivot on a dime to change direction and lead their partner with them.

When it’s time to cross the street, that call is up to the human. Dogs don’t read the stoplights—they trust that their partner will listen until certain that traffic is moving in their direction of travel. This is a skill people with visual impairments learn formally in orientation and mobility training, using a white cane. In fact, at the Seeing Eye, for example, one isn’t eligible to be matched with a dog without having completed O&M training.

But—as those of you who know the story of Harper know—the dogs are trained to keep an eye out and to disobey their partner if the team is in harm’s way. If, for example, the human just makes a bad call about crossing, the sidewalk has been ripped up for construction, or, as in Harper’s case, a car simply doesn’t stop when it should. It’s called intelligent disobedience, and it’s a pretty difficult thing to ask the dogs to do, when you think about it.

Anyway, about a year and a half ago, our friend John showed me his GoPro Hero camera. It’s a cool little thing that people mount on their heads when they do things like hang-glide, ride a motorcycle, whatever. They’re often mounted on drones, too. They make for some cool video.

It occurred to me that I might be able to mount the Hero on our hero dog to get a dog’s eye view of what it’s like to work with Beth. Sure enough, Hero sells a harness for exactly that purpose.

Beth and I took a couple walks with the camera mounted, but Whitney really didn’t like wearing it. And, there was no way to stabilize the camera—it rocked back and forth as Whitney walked. (John told me there are drones that can be programmed to follow at a set distance, and boy did I want to rationalize buying one, but it was a bridge too far.)

Well, the video we shot back in 2016 has just been sitting on my laptop, and when I bumped into it during a file purge, I popped it open.

And it was a lot better than I remembered.

So, I did some editing and added some explanatory captions. It covers a typical walk Beth and Whitney take around our neighborhood. Fair warning—it’s 14 minutes. I intended to shorten it more, but my intention is to give an idea of how Whitney and Beth work, and that often requires waiting when sighted people wouldn’t have to. So it’s true to that goal.

Otherwise, I hope you’ll give it—or some part of it—a watch. And I hope it gives you some idea of why I love and admire my two gals so much.

Happy New Year!

Annelore is one of four writers in the memoir class I lead at the Chicago Cultural Center who was born in a foreign country. She met her American husband Roy in the small town they both worked in on the Czech border, and the two of them moved to his hometown in North Dakota 55 years ago. Roy’s work relocated their family to many different places before finally settling in Chicago, and we are delighted to have her in class with us. I was especially tickled when she used my What I Hope For prompt to write about a New Year’s resolution she came up with back in 1963, her first year in America.

by Annelore Chapin

During my first years in this country I suffered from deep homesickness. Twenty years old, I felt cut off from everyone and everything I knew. I longed to stay connected with family and friends. The solution to ease my woes was to correspond by mail.

Maybe some day we can walk into one of these things and beam anywhere we want.

A letter to Europe would take about 14 days to arrive, and, should there be an answer, that would have to travel for another 14 days. Telephone calls were extremely expensive and were charged by the minute. We used the phone only in emergencies. My quest to stay in touch with everyone ‘back home’ resulted in an idea: On the first day of every year I would make a resolution. I would write one letter every day.

For a few weeks I did well, but eventually I fell behind. By March my backlog was so great that I gave up. The following year, I would try again. And the year after that. And after that. And then a miracle happened. The World Wide Web was created, and suddenly…”You’ve Got Mail!” A message a day became easy.

Had I ever hoped for this to happen? Of course not, and that taught me one thing: I can hope for things as yet unimaginable. Things like a transporter machine.

We know these contraptions from Star Treck, where they can move Captain Kirk or Scottie from one planet to another. Or from Dr. Who, who’s telephone booth transporter takes him from one time period to another one. At a time when my children and grandchildren live too many miles away to hug them on a regular basis, and friends around the globe are getting too frail to travel, I long for a method to move across space, from here to there, in seconds. And at ease.

Some of my friends who are “conspiracy believers” even insist that our governments already developed this technology. It might seem far-fetched now, but that is what I hope for: a transporter machine. Hope is defined as”the optimistic attitude of mind based on the expectation of a positive outcome,” and I am an optimist!

The announcement of the final writing prompt for 2017 was met with a chorus of groans. “What I hope for?” they asked. “For what? For Christmas? When? You mean you want an essay about what I’d do if I won the lottery? Is that what you mean? The Chicago Bears winning a game this year…can I write about that?”

A hope isn’t the same as a wish, as Mel explains.

I send an email to writers after class each week to re-enforce what their assignment is, and to offer suggestions to anyone with writer’s block. The “What I Hope For” email suggested they think about something special they’ve been hoping for this holiday, or something they hope will happen in the New Year. If they wanted to take an easier route, I suggested they write about something they really hoped for as a kid. Or as a teenager. Or as a young adult. “Did you get it? Was it all you hoped for?” Orrrr, they could think about a family member, or maybe a historian, reading their essay 100 years from now. “People reading our memoirs in the 22nd Century might wonder what we were hoping for back in 2017.”

My suggestions weren’t much help. “The things I have hoped for over the years are so numerous I simply cannot pick one ‘hope’ for a 500-word essay,” Pat read out loud from her essay the next week. “The challenge to write about ‘hope’ is bigger than I expected (or hoped).”

Michele said it all in her opening line, where she hoped to not be thrown out of her Monday memoir class for not doing her assignment. “I hope for your forgiveness,” she wrote. “And since I only used 193 words, I hope it is possible to set up a savings account for 307 extra words to use in a later essay.” Another writer acknowledged in her essay that she fervently hopes and prays there is a heaven. “But I’m in no hurry to find out!”

Diana took me up on the idea of a gift she’d hoped for as a child. When she was five years old, her family spent Christmas with a farm family in Pennsylvania. She can’t remember the family’s name, or why it was that her family celebrated there, but she does remember what she hoped for that year: a doll that came in her own little suitcase. “It was a real suitcase with a latch, and you could use it as a place to store her.” Diana did get a doll for Christmas, but it wasn’t the doll she wanted. The daughter of the family she was staying with got Diana’s doll.

Looking back, Diana guesses the doll was too expensive for her family to buy for her. “I wanted to love my new doll, but I didn’t,” she wrote.
“At that age, I had no concept of money, except that we didn’t have much of it.” Diana continued her essay, describing how that experience seventy years ago changed her. “I don’t think I’ve ever wanted something that bad again, because I did not want to ever feel that disappointed again. I’m only aware of this now, as I write this essay.”

And then there’s Mel, who took the assignment as an opportunity to weigh the differences between hoping and wishing:

Hopes are not the same as wishes. The genie gives Aladdin three wishes. He doesn’t give him three hopes. Hopes are things that must develop over time. Wishes are things that can happen without any effort or preparation, no matter how impossible they seem.

Mel’s essay pointed out that older adults understand that a lot of the things they might have hoped for when they were young are not likely to happen now. “They belong in the realm of wishes, not hopes,” he said, using the dreams of a boy and a grown man as an example. “A twelve-year-old boy who is five and a half feet tall can hope that he grows to six feet. It may not be likely, but he knows from experience that it is possible,” he wrote. “On the other hand, a forty-year-old man who is six feet tall might wish that he were six foot-three, but he cannot hope for it. He knows that forty-year-old men do not have growth spurts.”

The stories of unfulfilled hopes were poignant–and left me thinking about a writing prompt for future classes: Acceptance.