I’m putting the final touches on my morning keynote for tomorrow’s Women’s Leadership Symposium in Chicago. The conference theme is Synergy of Sisterhood: Breaking Barriers, Creating Alliances, and the University of Illinois – Chicago’s Women’s Leadership & Resource Center is offering workshops all day long.

One workshop that particularly caught my eye (okay, my ear) is called Leading With The Fire In Your Hips – Introduction Course to the Sensual Moving Meditation Practice for Womyn. The workshop is described as a “sensual experience for womyn that helps them identify their fears.” Now, c’mon. there’s not enough coffee in the world to help my morning keynote stimulate an audience the way that one will! Maybe you should consider signing up for the conference yourself — it’s open to Faculty, Staff, Students, and the Public.

Thursday, June 14
Women’s Leadership Symposium
Illinois Room, Student Center East
750 South Halsted
Chicago, IL

This program qualifies for LLEAP (Lifelong Learning and Educational Access Program) credit, and you can register on-site for the symposium tomorrow starting at 8:15 a.m. My morning keynote starts at 9 a.m., and I hope everyone in the audience lets the fire in their hips lead them to my table afterwards — Sandmeyer’s Bookstore is providing books for me to sign for anyone interested.

Mr. Peabody, set the wayback machine to 1986.

Alice Gervace LaPlante (left) and my friend Lynn LaPlante, taken at one of Lynn’s concerts when Alice was still getting out and about.

After a year of weekly visits to read to a newly-blind woman, it’s time for University of Illinois senior John Foreman to graduate. John brings his girlfriend, a music performance major, along on his final visit, and when Lynn LaPlante pulls her viola from its case, the blind woman’s crooked old rental house transforms into a resounding recital hall.

I wouldn’t hear from Lynn LaPlante for decades. I lost track of John Foreman after he graduated. And as it turns out, So did Lynn.

When Mike Knezovich and I moved to our Printers Row neighborhood here in 2003, we had no idea that Lynn LaPlante and her marvelous husband Mike Allaway lived here, too. When Lynn saw my memoir, Long Time, No See on display at Sandmeyer’s Bookstore, she scribbled out a note with her phone number and left it with Ellen Sandmeyer. Ellen called me. I called Lynn. A friendship was born.

In the years since then I was fortunate to meet Lynn LaPlante-Allaway’s’s beloved mother, Alice Gervace LaPlante. Anyone who met Lynn’s mother loved her, and I fell right in line. Alice died of complications related to Alzheimer’s disease on May 31, and a Printers Row neighbor generously offered to drive Whitney and me to the wake, where I had the privilege of meeting Lynn’s sister-in-law, her nieces and nephews, her old neighbors and her childhood friends.

Lynn’s mother Alice had been the music director of St. Edna Catholic Church in Arlington Heights for nearly 40 years, and a writer for the Chicago Tribune was so taken after reading Alice’s obituary that she contacted Lynn after the funeral. “They said they like to showcase people who have touched a lot of lives,” Lynn told me. That describes my Mom perfectly!” From that Chicago Tribune article:

Mrs. LaPlante, the mother of eight, enjoyed music from Bach to Benny Goodman. She taught piano out of her home and a local studio for many years and instilled a love of music in all her children, each of whom learned to play at least one instrument.

“I wouldn’t be doing what I’m doing today had it not been for my mother,” said LaPlante-Allaway, the principal violist with the Chicago Jazz Philharmonic. “She guided me every step of the way.”

I haven’t seen a whole lot of Lynn the past couple of years – she devoted the majority of that time to her mother, who had always been so devoted to Lynn and her music career.

Lynn played a viola solo at Alice’s funeral Tuesday, and she brought her viola with her on visits to her mom. The beloved Alice Gervase La Plante spent her final years surrounded by the same breathtaking sound her young daughter brought to me all those years ago, and thanks to her mother’s guidance early on, Lynn pleases all sorts of audiences with her music now. When I emailed Lynn to ask for a photo to publish with this blog, she said she’d send it asap. And then in that uncanny way of hers she ended her message by showing pride, humility and appreciation for her career all at the same time. “I leave in an hour to go play with Earth, Wind and Fire at Ravinia. If that isn’t the most surreal sentence I’ve ever typed, I don’t know what is.”

Thank you, John Foreman, wherever you are. You could never have known how your decision to volunteer as a 20-year-old young man would not only help me through those first unsettling months of blindness, but live on to sustain me decades later through my friendship with Lynn and her mother Alice. What a gift.

A picture page from “Lend Me a Paw.” (Photo courtesy National Geographic School Publishing.)

Hey, I have a new book out! National Geographic School Publishing used a true story about my previous Seeing Eye dog Harper in a new supplementary textbook called Lend Me a Paw, and it was just published last month. Lend Me a Paw is part of National Geographic School Publishing’s new Ladder Series, which they describe as a “laddered approach to leveled readers in order to differentiate for a shared experience.”

Huh?

Let me try to explain. Levelers at National Geographic School Publishing took my story “One Smart Dog” and produced it in four different reading levels:

• above level,
• on level,
• 1 grade below level, and
• 2 grades below level.

Each book is laid out exactly the same — the photographs and graphics are identical in each version, but the wording and sentence structure varies to match the reading level of the reader. Above-level readers might read one version, and students in the same classroom who are still working out vocabulary and grammar can tackle a version that is less complicated. Their web site describes it like this: “Same great content, four different reading levels.” In the end, a classroom of kids with different reading skills will all be able to discuss the content together as a class.

Still with me? Maybe an example will help. Here’s the intro to the story I wrote:

I’m blind. Even when my eyes are open, all I see is the color black. So I use my other senses to do things I enjoy, like writing books. My computer is adapted with assistive technology for people who are blind. A robotic voice parrots the letters I type, and I use my sense of hearing to listen to what I write. When I’m finished with a story, I press a button, and…voila! My computer reads what’s on the screen, and I can hear – and fix—my mistakes.

I do most of my writing at home, but I travel to interview people and research stories. That’s where Harper comes in.

And here is that section with the content adjusted for striving readers:

I’m blind, so I use my other senses to write books. My computer has a special program for people who are blind. A voice repeats the letters I type. It also reads what’s on the screen. I write at home, but sometimes I travel, too. That’s where Harper comes in.

Another example. Here’s what I wrote for above-level readers, from later on in the story:

Harper and I were heading down a city sidewalk once when he stopped for no reason. Well, no reason that I could come up with. I felt ahead with my foot. Nothing there. I waved my arm in front of me. No barricade. “Harper, forward!” I urged. I had an appointment, and I didn’t want to be late. “Hup, hup!” Harper stood motionless. “Right, right!” I tried, hoping Harper might scurry me around whatever he saw in the way. No luck.

Just then I heard a truck door slam. Heavy footsteps hurried toward us. “Watch out, ma’am! Stay put!” The truck driver offered his arm.

And now, here’s that same part for readers who are one grade below level:

Harper and I were walking along a city sidewalk. All of a sudden he stopped. I felt ahead with my foot. Nothing there. I waved my arm in front of me. Nothing there, either. “Harper, forward!” I urged. Harper did not move. “Right, right!” I tried. No luck. Just then I heard a truck door slam. Someone hurried toward us. “Watch out, ma’am!” The truck driver offered his arm.

What harm did Harper see in front of us? What danger had he saved us from? Guess you’ll have to order the book to find out!

Textbooks in this new Ladders program cover some of the Common Core Standards (a set of education standards adopted by 40+ states) for English Language Arts. Elementary school teachers who have some students in class who are learning English have told me this laddered approach could come in handy for them, too. I’m guessing it could be used in adult literacy classes as well.

Lend Me a Paw isn’t available commercially, but you can purchase copies on line for around $6 a copy. . Here’s a hint: when I ordered mine, I had better luck phoning my order in at 1-888-915-3276. Ask for isbn number 978-07362-95116.

P.S. If I look unusually tall in the photos, don’t blame the National Geographic photographer. I wrote the story last summer after I broke my foot, and when it came time for the photo shoot, I was sporting orthopedic shoes with three-inch soles. My podiatrist insisted I wear those clodhoppers for weeks after my cast came off!

I was extremely flattered when author and illustrator Sheila Welch asked me to participate in a book festival she was putting together in Freeport, Ill, and oh so disappointed to have to say no: Freeport is far away from Chicago and had no public transportation options. As you are about to find out from this guest post, Sheila Welch is one determined and resourceful woman, reluctant to take no for an answer. If my Seeing Eye dog Hanni and I took a commuter train as far west as it goes, she said she and her husband Eric could pick us up and drive us the rest of the way.

That car ride back in 2008 gave us a lot of time to talk, and we’ve stayed in touch ever since. I recently asked Sheila to write a guest post on what it’s been like to continue her career as an artist after being diagnosed with Parkinson’s Disease. No surprise here: she rose to the challenge.

The positively best therapy available for me

by Sheila K. Welch

The puzzling symptoms began a decade ago. In the fall of 2004, I had trouble autographing books. Strange. My mother could write her name with a flourish in her late 80s. I noticed, while drawing illustrations, certain movements were awkward and difficult. A few months later, I developed a slight tremor in my right hand.

“Waiting to Forget” is available at namelos press

My family doctor seemed confident that it was nothing serious, and I wanted to believe her. By the spring of 2007, however, waving, clapping, brushing my teeth, quick sketching, handwriting, and typing had all become either impossible or laborious tasks. I could sign my name, but only if I did it slowly and deliberately. And only if no one was watching.

Something was obviously wrong. I suspected Parkinson’s. My husband and I had a dear friend who’d had early onset Parkinson’s Disease (PD), so I was acquainted with this progressively debilitating condition. I went to a neurologist and he told me that I definitely had PD.

Living with Parkinson’s is a balancing act. Medications and exercises have been developed to control many of the symptoms. However, the medications alter brain chemistry and can result in nasty side effects such as extreme drowsiness, and, with prolonged usage, involuntary movements and psychosis.

My future looked bleak. Feeling myself losing abilities that had come naturally and easily for so long, I went into creative overdrive: I revised one novel manuscript. Wrote several stories. Finished revisions on a chapter book. Made illustrated dummy books.

Next I completed a novel that was close to my heart. Several of our children were adopted at school age, and they were the inspiration for WAITING TO FORGET, published by namelos in 2011. Kirkus Book Reviews describes it as “a poignant, realistic tale of child-survivors.” Bank Street College and Pennsylvania School Library Association have included it on their best-books-of-the-year lists.

While working with namelos to get WAITING TO FORGET published, I wrote a picture book manuscript and began sketching illustrations. On New Year’s Day last year, I resolved to work
on a memoir for my family. One hundred words a day added up to 36,500 by December 31.

This spring, I’m doing rough sketches for one of my manuscripts and working on a major revision of a novel. I also created two drawings for an exhibition appropriately called “Art over Adversity.”

While all of these projects take far longer than they would have before my Parkinson’s diagnosis, I’ve discovered that the creative process improves my mood, and that helps me feel better

Sheila’s painting “Dream Beach” was displayed at
the “Art over Adversity” exhibition for Parkinson’s awareness month.

physically. Stress exacerbates all the symptoms of Parkinson’s, but when I’m involved in illustrating a book or I’m writing a short story, the stress level drops.

Equally important: I’ve learned to modify and adapt. I still do presentations at schools and conferences, but I don’t do live demonstrations of my illustrations — I display a sketch I’ve brought from home. To avoid the stress of travel, I use Skype to interact with kids. When the local library hosted the launch of my novel, I offered pre-autographed books for sale.

I’m incredibly fortunate to have my husband Eric. He drives me everywhere, solves my computer issues, and does the household chores. With his help, I have the time and energy to be creative. Our seven children have all been super supportive. The youngest, whose early life was similar to that of my characters in WAITING TO FORGET, now lives in Texas. He has read the novel and tells me that it’s a “real, true” story, which is my most treasured review.

A few weeks ago, I began treatment with a more powerful medication for Parkinson’s disease, and now I can use my right hand to touch type. There’s talk in the PD world of a new medication that might be neuro-protective, but in the meantime, I will happily stick with the positively best therapy available for me — drawing and writing.

Whitney and I just got back last night from a web design conference in Dallas — my friend Sharron Rush gave the opening keynote yesterday, and when I heard she’d worked with Google to come up with a way to award conference scholarships to people with disabilities who wanted to attend, I went ahead and applied. And won!

Sharron co-authored a book called Maximum Accessibility: Making Your Web Site More Usable for Everyone. She is director and co-founder of Knowbility, a non-profit in Austin that helps make the internet and other technologies accessible to people who are blind, visually impaired, hearing impaired, have mobility impairments and cognitive or learning disabilities. Sharron’s keynote, “The Big Umbrella of Inclusive Design,” was described in the the Big Design web site like this:

Lessons learned – and those that we are still learning – have profound impact on design effectiveness and flexibility. As we design systems for inclusion, we find that as we remove perceived barriers we also solve unanticipated problems and improve user experience for all.

Google contacted Sharron a few months ago to tell her they were pleased to see her on the program, but were disappointed the conference wasn’t focusing even more on accessibility for those of us with disabilities. Sharron brainstormed with Google, and together they came up with this scholarship idea to make the conference more affordable for people who have disabilities. I was one of a handful of Google scholars to attend, and I sure appreciated the opportunity to talk with designers there about what a difference Accessible websites have made in my life.

Thanks to the efforts of programmers and website developers who value the importance of accessibility for the blind, speech synthesis allows me to Google to do my research, I’m able to fill out online forms on my own, I flip through websites to find information about events, times, locations and on and on. All that stuff the rest of you do using your eyes and a mouse? I do that by using my ears and keyboard commands.

We Google scholars all had lunch together with the folks from Knowbility after Sharron’s presentation, and it was heartening to be around so many people with an active interest in keeping the web accessible.

One huge bonus: A young man named Jason Hester from Knowbility sat next to me at lunch. Jason is able-bodied, and when I asked what got him interested in this sort of work, he credited a favorite professor at Texas State. I knew immediately who he was talking about. Professor Neill Hadder was in my group at the Seeing Eye last December. Neill was training with his new German Shepherd Bill while I was training with Whitney!