Mike and I took a slight detour on our way to the Wisconsin Book Festival on Friday. An NPR show called The Story had contacted me earlier in the week and we had to stop at a studio Friday morning to record an interview. If you’ve never heard The Story, here’s a description of the show from the Serious Radio web site:

The Story is a daily interview program designed to bring great stories to public radio midday’s in a way that will help listeners understand what is going on in their world and why it matters to them. A veteran radio journalist, Dick Gordon interviews people whose real-life experiences help us understand the news of the day or ongoing issues of importance.

The Story originates on North Carolina Public Radio, so Dick Gordon, the show’s host, was in Chapel Hill during Friday’s interview. Me? I sat alone with Hanni in a recording booth in Evanston, IL. The sound man, seated in another room behind a plate of glass, says if you listen carefully you’ll hear Hanni’s harness jiggle as she settles in at the beginning of the taping. She slept for the rest of the hour. She’d heard this all before.

The interview questions centered on my working life. Before losing my sight, I had a job advising college students who wanted to study overseas. The job entailed talking with students, checking out what programs might work for them, phoning different college departments or other universities to arrange for the transfer of college credits. I was sure I’d be able to perform these tasks without being able to see. My boss, however, was equally sure I could not. My contract was terminated. My confidence was shattered. How could I have been so naive? Did I really think I was worth hiring? Why would anyone employ someone who couldn’t see?

That all happened in 1986. The Americans with Disabilities Act was signed into law four years later. It took a while for me to get the gumption to apply for work again, but once I did I met up with some pretty wonderful, flexible employers. A series of part-time jobs helped rebuild my confidence back up. So much so, that in 1999 I took a job many others would never dare try: I modeled nude for University art students. An essay I wrote about the experience was published in alternative newspapers all over the country, and my new career was launched. No, silly. I did not become a professional nude model. I became a professional writer.

The Story is doing a special series called “What’s Working Who’s Working,” and my guess is that when my interview airs, it will be featured in that series. The Story is distributed nationally by American Public Media. It can be heard in North Carolina on WUNC-FM and WRQM-FM (90.9) in Rocky Mount. The show can also be heard on other stations across the U.S. including WBEZ in Chicago and KPCC in Los Angeles. Not sure yet when my particular segment will air, so stay tuned — I’ll let you know as soon as I find out.

Showing the girls how the harness works.

I spoke at the Milwaukee Montessori School last Wednesday, so I missed out on all the Olympic frenzy going on back here in Chicago last week. The Montessori mom who volunteered to drive Hanni and me back to our hotel after the presentation was the only person to even mention Chicago’s bid for the 2016 Olympics. The mom worked for the Metropolitan Milwaukee Association of Commerce, and the organization was hopeful Chicago would get the Olympics in 2016. “You took the train here, right?” she asked. I nodded. “So you know. Milwaukee is only an hour-and-a-half away from Chicago.” Her association was hoping tourists might opt to stay in Milwaukee, take the train to Chicago for the games by day, head back to a peaceful retreat by night. Milwaukee would benefit without footing the outrageous Olympic bill.

I was in the hotel lobby working on my laptop when the announcement was made about Chicago losing the Olympic bid. I heard no collective sighs. People there had never assumed Chicago would get the bid, so they weren’t shocked to hear the news. They might have been disappointed, but they didn’t act like the Chicagoans I was hearing about in the news. I didn’t sense anyone in the Milwaukee hotel lobby feeling angry. Or cheated

That’s one – of many things – I love about Wisconsin. People there are sensible. Kind, too. I stayed up there a few days after my Montessori School visit to work on my writing. The seclusion worked. I made good progress on two new books, and rewarded myself with occasional breaks to listen to the incomparable Bob Uecker call Brewers’ games on my transistor radio. Hanni and I felt downright carefree during our three-night stay, everyone there was so willing to guide us when we’d come to the lobby for a change of venue, or when Hanni needed to go outside for breaks. The hotel staff also recognized when Hanni and I were doing fine on our own, so they’d leave us alone.

Another reason I love Wisconsin? Our son lives there, in Watertown. After driving there to visit Gus Friday morning, Mike headed over to Milwaukee to spend the night with Hanni and me at the hotel. We had such a great time in Wisconsin that we’re going there again this Friday. This time, though, we’ll be heading to Madison. Hanni and I are doing a presentation at the Wisconsin Book Festival in Madison on Saturday morning, October 10 at 10:00. The theme for this year’s festival is Courage.

Presenter(s):
Beth Finke,
Katie McKy
Two writers who’ll appeal to kids from ages 4-8. Themes of courage in the face of disability/difference, and the courage to be oneself. Wolf Camp, by Katie McKy, is a comedy of parents’ unconditional love as their kids try on different skins. And Beth Finke returns with Hanni, her beloved Seeing Eye dog, to talk about the courage they both exhibit every day.

Gus’ house in Watertown is about halfway between Madison and Milwaukee, so it’ll be easy to stop in and see him again this weekend. On, Wisconsin!

Gus, Hanni and I--in front of the Hank Aaron statue outside Miller Park on a previous visit to Milwaukee.

“How much does Hanni weigh?”

That was the first question asked after our presentation at Jackson Middle School in Orlando Friday. Not a bad question, really. Just one I hadn’t heard after any of the talks I’d given before.

Seems every time we visit a school, one of the kids in the audience comes up with a new question. If I think it through later, I can usually figure out why that particular subject matter came up.

Take the time I went to Hendricks School on the south side of Chicago, for example. The kids there came from families with low incomes, but they had the same curiosity, and they asked similar questions, as the kids I visit in well-to-do suburbs. You know, things like “How do you know if it’s time to wake up?” and “Is it scary being blind?”

Beth and Hanni both enjoy watching the White Sox. Illustration from “Hanni and
Beth, Safe & Sound.”

Hendricks is located near White Sox park, and since Safe & Sound has an illustration of Hanni and me watching a ballgame, the kids had all sorts of questions about that. “What if you got hit by a ball?” I told them we try to sit under netting. “What if there’s a hole in the net?” I told them Mike usually comes with us to ballgames, so he warns me if a ball is coming. “What if he is going to get hot dogs so he isn’t there and the ball comes?” The ballgame questions went on and on. And it was really, really fun.

Jackson Middle School in Orlando was not that different from Hendricks. I found out from teachers there that a significant number of kids who attend Jackson are homeless. With that in mind, I emphasized how important it is to find someone you can trust, I talked about the trust Hanni and I have in each other, how we work as a team. “We’ve worked together eight years,” I Said. “We have a strong bond. We know each other very, very, well.” Hanni is nine, I told them, and most Seeing Eye dogs retire at around ten years old.

The teacher broke in then. “What happens after they retire?” she asked. I explained my three options:

• I could bring Hanni back too the Seeing Eye, and they’ll find someone to adopt her, or
• we could find a friend who wants to adopt her, or
• we could keep her as a pet, and when I bring my new Seeing Eye dog home we’d have two dogs.

Later on LouisLuis, the boy who had asked how much Hanni weighed, had another question. I answered, then asked if he’d mind answering one for me. “How come you wanted to know how much she weighed?”

The answer was simple. He lived in an apartment where they only let you have dogs who weigh less than 45 pounds. “I was hoping I could adopt Hanni when she retires, but I guess not.” he said, the disappointment obvious in his voice.

LouisLuis is just one of many, many people who admired Hanni during our trip to Florida. She wowed the audience at our Playing by Ear session at the Early Childhood Association of Florida conference Saturday morning, and then again during our book signing at UrbanThink Bookstore that afternoon.

I’m composing this message using my laptop on our flight back to Chicago, still marveling at the wonders of technology: my computer is calling out the letters into my headphones as I type, even way up here thousands of miles in the sky.

Pilot just came on telling us to shut down electronic devices, gotta go. Oh, but in case you were wondering: Hanni weighs 63 pounds.

Ask any guide dog user. They’ll tell you. When a guide dog encounters a fellow worker, the two dogs seem to act…well…respectful of each other.

We had a chance to experience this phenomenon at the Outer Banks of North Carolina last week. I did a book signing at Manteo Booksellers there, and a friend piloted his plane in for the event.

Yes, fans, you read that right. Someone actually flew in for the chance to purchase a copy of Hanni and Beth: Safe & Sound. Our friend Brand is a physics professor at North Carolina State. He has his pilot’s license and owns a share of a small plane.

That's Bridgette, off-harness on the ground, and Gillian on the wing of Brand's plane as they arrived in Manteo.

Brand’s wife Sue came along for the ride, and they invited a friend to fly with them, too. Their friend, Gillian Lindt, was the first woman to serve as dean of faculty for the Graduate School of Arts and Sciences at Columbia University. Gillian is in her 70s now, and she has macular degeneration. She found a white cane frustrating, so she decided to train with a guide dog instead. From The Guideway, a publication of the Guide Dog Foundation for the Blind:

Lindt partnered with Bridgette, a Labrador/Poodle cross in 2005. “Bridgette is a perfect match for my lifestyle and personality,” she says.

Bridgette was also a perfect match for Hanni. Mike, Hanni and I stayed with our friends Katherine and Larry Bray during our four-night stay at the Outer banks. The Brays live right on the ocean, and they generously invited Brand and his brood to come over and share the ocean deck with us once the book signing was finished.

Katherine and Larry are dog lovers, and they marveled at the way Bridgette and Hanni lay motionless at our feet, eyeing each other up as we humans chatted away overhead. One couldn’t help but wonder what the two dogs thought of each other. I pictured them in one of those New Yorker cartoons, you know, the ones where readers are invited to write in with suggested captions.

That's Katherine Bray and I enjoying a glass of wine on Katherine and Larry's splendid oceanfront deck.

Needless to say, the Brays were tickled to provide a little R&R for not just one, but two working dogs. They spoiled us humans, too, supplying us with a tasty crushed lemonade/mint drink to enjoy. As Katherine pressed the chilled glasses into our hands, she said, “If y’all want vodka in there, too, just let me know!” Gillian was happy to take Katherine up on the offer. “I’m not driving home,” she laughed. And after all, it was yappy hour.

That’s Dora–my first Seeing Eye partner–off duty during one of our countless strolls on the beach.

This Thursday Mike, Hanni and I head to North Carolina. I’m doing a book signing at Manteo Booksellers on Saturday, and we’ll spend the rest of the time swimming in the ocean, eating fresh seafood, and visiting old friends

How’d we end up with friends in North Carolina? We used to live there! During the 1990s, Mike worked here in Illinois for an internet company called Spyglass. In his early days at Spyglass, Mike didn’t get a high salary or good benefits. He did, however, receive stock options. And when Spyglass went public in 1995, all of a sudden those pieces of paper were worth a whole lot of money. We decided then to do something we would have never, ever thought possible. We moved to a house on the ocean.

Dora worked until she was 12 and she lived to 17.

Our time on the beach was fabulous, full of simple pleasures. Without worrying about obstacles in my path, I was able to run by myself. Listening for the waves, I’d point my shoulders in their direction and spring towards them like a little girl. Sometimes I’d race to the beach with Dora, my first Seeing Eye dog. She always won.

When the cold and rain arrived in December, Mike stoked the fireplace and I spent quiet time working on writing my first book, Long Time, No See.

The dream ran its course. Before we left Illinois, I wanted to believe I was the type of woman who would be forever happy living by the ocean: listening to books, sitting by the fire, reading, taking daily walks on the beach. Hard as it was to admit, I am not that romantic figure. In the end, two years of dreamy isolation was enough for me.

We made lovely friends in the Outer Banks, but we all lived far apart, and Nags Head had no public transportation. No sidewalks, either, which meant Dora and I were unable to get out by ourselves to do errands. Mike was responsible for getting groceries, banking, mailing packages at the post office, bringing us to doctor appointments. He had the time, and he mostly seemed to enjoy it. But I felt more dependent on others than I wanted to be, and I started feeling disabled.

It’s funny. On the beach or in the water, I enjoyed more of a sense of freedom of motion than I had since going blind. But the sound of the waves, the smell of the air, the feel of salt water on my skin…as fantastic and unforgettable as it all was, the ability to do all the other things by myself was more important. We left the ocean in 1999 and moved back to Illinois. We eventually settled here in Chicago, where public transportation and city sidewalks allow me to feel more independent than anywhere else we’ve lived since I lost my sight. But hey, the city gets a little exhausting sometimes! We’re looking forward to our trip back to the Outer Banks, hoping to return next week relaxed, a little sunburned and full of good beach stories.