From the Future of Aging blog (a blog from the American Association of Homes and Services for the Aging) about yesterday’s event at the National Press Club:

Perhaps the most compelling story came from Beth Finke. Finke, an NPR commentator, spoke about her personal struggles after becoming blind at 26. Finke was relying on Social Security following the death of her father at age 3. With the help of Social Security funds (still around for college students up until the benefit was cut back to age 18 in 1983), she was able to help put herself through college. However, at the age of 26, retinopathy stole Beth’s eyesight. She credits her college education, attainable only with Social Security’s help, as the sole reason that she has been able to thrive in adulthood as a blind person.

If you couldn’t make it to the Press Club yesterday, don’t fret – you can hear my talk on youtube. My favorite part? The sound of the camera shutter clicking over and over at the beginning of my talk. I’m a celeb!

My dad came home sick from work on my third birthday. Two weeks later, he died at home. Heart attack. He was 47 years old.

I am the youngest of seven, and at age 45, Flo (my mom), was left to support us. She found a job at a local bakery, got to work on her G.E.D., and relied on Social Security survivors benefits to make ends meet.

I'm not going to be at the Capitol, but I will be at the National Press Club.

Back then, Social Security benefits were available for surviving children until age 21, as long as they went to college. Without Social Security I wouldn’t have been able to afford to go to college at all. Years later, when I lost my sight, my college experience and education came in handy when I had to learn to use a talking computer to launch my career as a writer. These days I credit Social Security for helping me support myself as an adult.

An organization called Generations United is sponsoring an event at the National Press Club in Washington, D.C. this Monday about the growing interdependence of generations in America. Juan Williams will moderate a panel at the event, and I’ve been asked to say a few words about Social Security survivor benefits. Most people think of seniors when they think of Social Security, but over the years survivor benefits have also helped Millions of young widows, widowers, and children. Like Flo. And Me.

I was fortunate to have received Social Security benefits when they were still available to college students. I graduated from the University of Illinois in 1981, and the student benefit was discontinued by Congress in 1983. Now Social Security survivor benefits end when a child turns 18 (exception: if a child is 18 and still in high school, the survivor benefit  lasts until s/he graduates, or until two
months after reaching age 19, whichever comes first). A Generations United Fact Sheet says a college education is more necessary in today’s economy than it was back in 1981, when I graduated: college graduates earn, on average, 61 percent more over their lifetimes than high school graduates do. And as the value of a college education grows, so does its cost (roughly double since 1979). The fact sheet says the Social Security actuary estimated it would cost .07 percent of taxable payroll to restore the benefit (measured over the traditional 75-year Social Security window). There was no estimate of how much these additional College graduates (making higher wages and paying higher payroll taxes) would offset the cost of restoring the student benefit, but it doesn’t take a Ph.D. in economics to figure this out. I pay into Social Security now, and Flo paid into it for more than 20 years. After she passed her G.E.D., she worked as an office clerk until she was 70 years old.

Survivor benefits helped Flo and our family make it through hard times, and student benefits helped me become the independent person I am now. Restoring the student benefit could help today’s vulnerable young people, too. That’s what I’m going to say to the policy-makers at the National Press Club on Monday. I just hope they’re out there listening.

Hanni and me enjoying the out-of-doors at the University of Illinois quad.

What a fun time Hanni and I had on our visit to Champaign County! We made lots of new friends at the Philo Library, Countryside Day School and St. Thomas School, and the weather was absolutely sensational. Between school and library visits we managed to meet up with a few old friends, take long walks, linger on park benches and catch up on each other’s lives. An excerpt from my first book, Long Time, No See describes the beauty of a Fall day in central Illinois:

I’d fallen in love with the twin cities of Champaign-Urbana back in my freshman year at the University of Illinois. It didn’t matter that there was nowhere to hike or canoe, or that the campus was surrounded by, even included, corn and soybean fields. It seemed a vibrant place. I was caught up in the rush of thirty-five thousand students hustling from class to class.

Champaign-Urbana may lack a striking natural beauty—it defines the word “flat,” and the creek that trickles through it, more of a drainage ditch, is known as The Boneyard. But what the two towns have, especially Urbana, is trees. Huge, magnificent old maples and oaks with an unearthly gift for turning brilliant scarlet and sunset yellow. A few white clouds set against a deep sky on a fall afternoon—we could watch them indefinitely from our vantage point on the porch swing.

I may not be able to see those brilliant scarlet and sunset yellow leaves anymore, but c’mon – don’t you think you can smell the colors? My friends and I felt the sun on our faces and heard the leaves crackling under our feet as we walked arm in arm and shared our stories. One talk reflected on a reunion, another on a retirement, a reconnection with a long-lost friend, a dear relative who had just died. Change was in the air, and in our conversations, too.

How perfect it was to be surrounded by all those falling leaves as we talked, reminding us that hey, depending on how you look at it, change can be a beautiful thing.

For my blog readers who are blind: the graphics in this blog post are a sampling of thank-you notes and pictures from Lincoln Trail Elementary School. I know from my husband Mike’s descriptions that one note says, “I’m allergic to barking dogs.” Another has wonderful misspellingsinvented spellings: “I injoyed your story and thank you again for coming to Lincoln Tail.” One young artist drew a four-panel cartoon depicting Hanni preventing me from falling into a hole, then me on an airplane, and finally Hanni seated on the floor while Mike and I sit at a restaurant enjoying dinner — all things I’d talked about during my presentation. Another drawing is a close-up of Hanni and me, and we’re surrounded by hearts. The letters “B and E appear on the left side of my head, and T and H on the right. Other drawings in this little montage are, well, beyond description.

In the next four days, Hanni and I will be visiting three Illinois elementary schools in Deerfield, Champaign and Philo. Looking forward to the train rides, visiting with old friends and especially…meeting the kids.

He's allergic to barking dogs. But not non-barking dogs.



Hanni as alligator.

Love the airplane.

Thumbnails of Hanni and Beth rock.

Dig the skyline!

With Hanni, and umpired doesn't need instant replay.

I dressed up for Halloween this year, and Hanni led me outside to find out if friends could guess what I was. First guess: a waiter. I held out my arm, showed him the baseball in my palm. “Ozzie Guillen?” To be honest, few people noticed I was wearing a costume. Guess they figured I always walk down the street dressed in black with a pillow stuffed under my shirt.

The pillow was supposed to be my chest protector. I was a blind baseball umpire. Oh, well. I guess American sports fans are focusing on football. Not me. I am thoroughly enjoying this year’s World Series, cheering like mad for the San Francisco Giants. My reasons:

• I’m a sucker for any team with a guy named Edgar on it.
• Juan Uribe and Aaron Rowand are on the Giants.
• Tony Bennett sang the national anthem in San Francisco for game one.

Some explanations. My dad’s name was Edgar, and you’d be surprised how few players have that name. I rooted for the Seattle Mariners when Edgar Martinez played there, and I’ve followed Edgar Renteria from the Marlins to the Cardinals to the Red Sox to the Braves and now, to the Giants. With any luck, Kansas City minor league pitcher Edgar Osuna will start for the Royals next spring and I can root for him, too. Except when the Royals play the White Sox, of course.

As for Juan Uribe and Aaron Rowand, they were both on my beloved 2005 World Champion White Sox team. And Tony Bennett? He needs no explanation.

Another plus about this World Series? I get to listen to a lot of baseball organ music. After Nancy Faust’s retirement from the White Sox this year, fewer than half the major league ballclubs still have live organists. The Rangers and the Giants are among the happy few. They still do.

That's Rollie at his Yamaha.

During all the hoopla over Nancy Faust’s retirement, there was a lot made of the fact she’d only missed five scheduled dates. All five days happened 27 years ago, when her son Eric was born. Not much was made of the organist who took her place. But guess what? The organist she sub-contracted to is blind!

Nancy gave me Rollie Hudson’s contact info, and last week he and I talked over the phone about those magical days in 1983. He said a White Sox director gave him cues over a headset, and he also used a transistor radio to keep track of the games while he played. “And I always had either — well, both at times– my wife Shirley or one of my children there on the bench with me to cue me, too,” he said, explaining it was especially important to know when the pitcher was on the mound. “They had a rule that when the pitcher came to position, I must stop. That’s very important, so that we don’t destroy his concentration or that of the batter as well.”

Rollie and his wife have been married for 47 years, and after all these years he still refers to his beloved Shirley as his “bride.” They live in Arizona now, and while he enjoys performing as a church organist In Scottsdale, he says it’s nothing like playing the organ at a baseball game. “I compare it to what it must be like driving a huge truck,” he said. ”I felt so much power, being able to make 34,000 people respond when I played ‘Charge!’”

That's Nancy Faust with Rollie and Shirley Hudson.

When I asked Nancy why she’d chosen Rollie Hudson, a man who was blind from birth, to be her replacement, she just shrugged and said, “His playing style was close to mine.” She was confident the headset director could prompt Rollie, just like they prompted her. Most important: “He has a great ear, and no need to refer to sheet music.”