Mike and I were invited to stay for the “opening night toast” after Sunday’s performance of Wait Until Dark. We accepted the invitation, of course! I felt like a star, celebrating with cast members. But just like after the rehearsals, I found the experience somewhat bittersweet. This was a more standard type of letdown, though. Nothing to do with my blindness, really. Just an “empty nest” sort of thing. Emjoy and the cast didn’t need me any more. They were doing fine on their own now! A review in the Chicago Sun-Times confirms my assessment:

Gavino, a most skilled and charming slip of a girl, deftly manages to shift from Susy’s initially blithe self-confidence into shrewd counter-insurgency mode as she refuses to become the classic female victim. She also makes you begin thinking as Susy does, with a heightened awareness of sounds and smells and space and the little strategies required for living blind.

Way to go, Emjoy! All your hard work and research paid off! And really, the best review came after the preview on Thursday, the night I was invited to sit on stage with the cast for a Q & A session after the play. The very first comment came from an audience member who said her husband is visually impaired. “That actress was fabulous,” the woman said. “I was so glad she didn’t play it like we see in TV, where the blind person spends the whole time looking up to the sky!” The woman said she was startled when Emjoy came out at the end for her curtain call. “She walked down the steps like someone who could see!” Emjoy was surrounded by well-wishers at the opening night toast, but she did manage to make her way towards Mike and me before we left. After uncoiling from our congratulatory hugs, Emjoy said she had a present for me.” I thought of writing you a thank-you note, but I knew you wouldn’t be able to read it by yourself,” she said, pressing a CD into my hand. “It’s music Susy would have listened to.” Recognizing the quizzical look on my face, Emjoy explained. “When I’m playing a role, I like to put songs on my iPod that the character would listen to, it helps me get into the part.” She reasoned Susy would be a jazz fan. You know, Greenwich Village in the 60s. “There’s some Miles Davis, other jazz. Oh, and Joan Baez. Some Bob Dylan tunes, too,” she said. “I copied them from my iPod onto this CD for you.” It was a beautiful, thoughtful gift. A perfect souvenir. Because, heck, the opportunity I was given to be a part of a live theatre production was just that: a beautiful, thoughtful gift. Okay, enough. Quit reading thi blog post. Pick up the phone, call 773.753.4472 and order your tickets for Wait Until Dark. That, or link to the court theatre website to order tickets online. Whatever you do, don’t…ahem…wait — this thriller closes in two weeks!

Mike and me at the Obama rally. With 75,000 close friends.

I called my great-niece while Mike and I were standing in line last night. Anita is 13 years old. Her father is from Jamaica. Her mother (my blonde-haired, blue-eyed niece Janet) raised Anita on her own. “Remember the part of that video Obama showed at the convention?” I asked Anita. “You know, where his mom woke him up at 4:30 in the morning to go over his spelling words before she went off to work? That reminds me of you and your mom when you were little.” I could sense Anita rolling her eyes. She is a teenager, after all. “Who knows?” I said. “Maybe you’ll be president someday!”

That's my niece Janet (left), Anita's sister AnnMarie (center), and future president Anita (right)

Mike and I were in line at least an hour longer after making that phone call to Anita last night — we were waiting to get into the Barack Obama rally in Grant Park, just four blocks away from our apartment. Hanni watched the election returns from home. There was a heavy police presence around the rally, of course — especially on horses. More than once Mike had to route me around a big pile of dung! In keeping with that theme, we staked out a spot near an oversized handicapped portapotty once we made it into Grant Park.

After using that lovely facility, I was approached by a rally official. “You know, you can stand over there if you want.” I looked at Mike, who explained that the official was pointing to a wide wooden ramp for people in wheelchairs. We moved there, which meant Mike could see the stage. Two older African-American women were standing next to us; they were with a friend in a wheelchair. The women were spunky. I mean, they were having fun, calling friends on their cell phones and all that, But at the same time they were pretty serious. They didn’t want all the pageantry to let them forget how important this day was.

The crowd was huge, but mellow. Kids were texting, calling their friends, and constantly checking their iPhones for updates. “It’s like Woodstock,” Mike said. “Except instead of drugs, people are using electronic devices!”

When they announced from the Jumbotrons that Virginia had gone for Obama, the crowd went crazy. People started chanting “Yes We Can, Yes We Can!” And a short while later, when the words “Barack Obama Elected President” flashed on the Jumbotron screens, the atmosphere was ecstatic. No one had to read the screen aloud for me – I knew. Jubilation. People laughing and cheering. Friends and strangers hugging and crying. Very, very fun and energizing and well, I’ll say it: inspirational. I mean, being around all those people who had voted or volunteered or just cared enough to trudge downtown to Chicago to be there…wild!

We stayed to hear Obama’s speech, and as we waited, they played recorded music over the loudspeakers. The first song was “Signed, Sealed Delivered” by Stevie Wonder. I was dancing! After that they played some country western song I’d never heard before. I thought that was very funny. “He really is trying to unite *all* of us,” I told Mike. A couple more tunes, then “Sweet Home, Chicago” and then, drumroll, please…”The next First Family of the United States of America” — Barack and family got on stage. The crowd roared. Obama spoke. People cried.

After the speech, we walked along with others moving slowly and happily out of Grant Park -– we practically floated across Michigan Avenue, which was magically closed to traffic for the night. T-shirt and button sellers were everywhere, especially near Michigan Avenue. We picked out a t-shirt for Anita. I’ll give it to her this afternoon, when Hanni and I head out to Elmhurst to celebrate over a glass of wine with my mom and sister –- Anita’s Great Grandmother and Grandma.

Janet emailed me this morning to thank me for calling them from the rally. “The phone call really stuck with Anita,” she said. The first thing Anita asked Janet when they woke up this morning was whether Janet still had her “I voted” sticker. When Janet said she did, Anita asked, “Can I have it?” .

This month two of my essays aired on WBEZ-FM. If you missed hearing them on the radio, both are available online – one is about the new governor in New York, and the other is about cab drivers refusing to pick me up with my Seeing Eye dog.

Both of these essays were inspired by blog posts I wrote, and for that I must thank friends from my Chicago writers group. I was very skeptical about starting this blog last year – I thought blogs were self-indulgent wastes of time. Au contraire, said my fellow writers. A blog can encourage a writer to keep at her craft, they told me. “Kinda like a journal, but since it’s out there in public, there’s a chance people might read it,” they explained. “So you work at it a bit harder.” Who knows, my writer friends said, maybe some blog posts could become story ideas.

I may never have written a word about the NY governor or those cab drivers if I wasn’t keeping a blog. So my writer’s group pals were right: keeping a blog isn’t necessarily a waste of time. I’m convinced I’m right about my other claim, though: It’s pretty dang self-indulgent!

Earlier this week I revamped that blog I wrote about taxi drivers and sent it to Chicago Public Radio. I recorded it for them Thursday, and it’s scheduled to air in Chicago on March 12 sometime between 9 and 10am. When we were done in the studio Thursday, the first cab to pull up took Hanni and me without a protest.

I was relieved. It would have been way too weird to be denied a ride in a cab after recording an essay about, well, about having been denied a ride in a cab.

“Dearborn and Polk,” I told the driver. He hit the accelerator. Most riders sit quietly in the back of a cab, fidget with papers, glance out the car window. I can’t. And the way I figure, maybe chatter will help drivers feel more comfortable with Hanni and me. Maybe it’ll encourage them to pick up the next human-and-guide-dog team they come across. So I talk.

“How’s business?” I asked. “Fine,” he said. That was it.

Not in the mood for chatter, I guess. Or maybe he was miffed about having a dog in the car? He sure drove fast. I told him so when he stopped the car and said how much I owed him. His speeding worked in my favor — The fare was three dollars cheaper than I paid on the way out.

I gave him a big tip. I mean, the guy wasn’t Mr. Personality, but at least he picked us up. Besides, I like cab drivers to know that people with disabilities can be big tippers.

After uncoiling from the cab, I picked up Hanni’s harness and commanded “Forward!” She brought me to the curb and stopped like always. We crossed the street to her favorite vacant lot, you know, where she “empties.” As I took her harness off, I reached out to the fence there for balance. The fence wasn’t there. “Wow!” I exclaimed to Hanni. “They finally took that stupid fence down!” Hanni did her business, I buckled her harness back on, and we headed north to our apartment.

The sun was out, and the snow was melting. It had been so long since I’d felt the sidewalk at my feet that it felt odd — Not the same cracks and angles I was used to. Hanni’s pace was quick — she seemed to be enjoying guiding me on sidewalks that were clear of snow and ice for a change.

I started listening for Jazz music – it streams from outdoor speakers at the sandwich joint in our building, that’s my cue to tell hanni to turn left and go to our doorway.
All I heard were birds. Hanni kept up her pace, then finally stopped at a curb at the end of the block. It couldn’t be our block, though. I never heard any jazz.

We must have gone the wrong direction when we got out of the cab. It was a nice day – cold, but sunny – and Hanni was enjoying the walk. I decided we’d continue walking. I was sure to hear, or feel, or smell something that would tell me which way to have Hanni take us.

We walked north, and north, and north. It seemed so quiet. No sound of kids from the local college talking on their cell phones, no smells from coffee shops. “Hanni,” I said.”I have a feeling we’re not in Kansas anymore.”

I called out an “excuse me” to the next pair of footsteps I heard. Turns out they belonged to a man named Carl. “I’m a little turned around,” I said. “Can you tell me where we are?” When Carl said we were on Dearborn and Division, I actually laughed out loud.

Division is 20 blocks north of Polk. There had been so many clues to tell me we were far from home – quick ride, cheap fare, missing fence, birds singing, Hanni’s enthusiasm (she always walks faster when we’re in new territory) – but I wanted so badly to be near home that I wouldn’t allow myself to be convinced otherwise. “The cab driver must have thought I said Dearborn and Oak,” I told Carl. (Oak is near Division.)

Carl hailed me another cab and waited while I tucked Hanni’s tail inside. Before he closed the door, he said one last thing: “Thank you for trusting me.”

The Children’s Book Council named November 11 to 17 Children’s Book Week, and Hanni and I sure celebrated!
I already blogged about the radio show we were on Tuesday. What I didn’t tell you, though, was the reason Betsy and Sal decided to have us on Walking on Air in the first place: they knew it was children’s book Week!
Turns out we were on TV that day, too! WCIA Channel 3 in Champaign, IL did a special Children’s Book Week feature where they offered reading suggestions. Hanni and Beth: Safe & Sound was right up there with some pretty well-known children’s books:
1) The Three Snow Bears, by Jan Brett (elementary picture book)
2) Knuffle Bunny Too, by Mo Willems (elementary picture book)
3) Hanni and Beth: Safe and Sound, by Beth Finke (non-fiction picture book)
4) Houdini, the Handcuff King, by Jason Lutes & Nick Bertozzi (biography in comic form)
5) The Invention of Hugo Cabret, by Brian Selznick (novel)
Okay, so that was Tuesday. On Wednesday Hanni and I were on the front page of my old hometown paper. If you look at the Elmhurst Press story online, you can link to a video of Hanni and me walking near the Elmhurst train station. As I said in a previous post, “Move Over, Brangelina!” I wonder if fans will start calling us Bethanni?!
Okay, back to earth. Thursday Hanni led me to the doctor’s office so I could get a flu shot. Somehow we managed to even make a doctor’s visit into a Children’s Book Week celebration. The doctor I go to also sees two patients who happen to work on the Oprah Winfrey Show. I left two copies of Safe & Sound with him – he promises to hand them over to the Oprah connections the next time they are in the office. I’ll let you know when Oprah calls.
Hanni and I ended our Children’s Book Week celebration today with a visit to St. Athanasius School in Evanston, IL. I spoke to first and second graders. Of course they are all geniuses – you have to be in order to spell the school’s name!
Tomorrow morning we head off to the Bookstall in Winnetka. My friend Kate has offered to drive Hanni and me there and help us with signing – and pawprinting – books. Good thing Thanksgiving week is coming up – Children’s Book Week has worn us out. We’ll need the break from all this celebrating!