That's my handsome nephew Robbie with his handsome father Rick.

I came home, checked our answering machine. There it was. A message from my nephew. The message was alarming. Not because of what Robbie said. Just that he called me!

My extended family lives all over the country. We consider ourselves “close.” But we rarely, if ever, phone each other. We email. We send cards. Some of us are even starting to use facebook. But we don’t chat on the phone.

Robbie’s message said he had a question. I should call him back that night. All I could figure was that he needed information about:

1) A homemade gift he was making for Mike, or
2) some woman he was interested in who lives here in Chicago.

Turns out #2 was right. But the woman he was interested in was. me! “I was just wondering,” he said when I phoned him back. “How do you text if you’re blind?”

The answer was easy. I don’t. And from what I’ve been able to find out, few blind people do. I mean, there are phones that let us send text messages. The research I’ve done since Robbie’s momentous phone call, however, has not turned up a single phone allowing blind people to read a text message after it appears on our cell phones.

The LG VX8350 from Verizon, for example. A review on the American Foundation of the Blind website touts the LG VX8350 as the “most accessible off the shelf cell phone for blind or visually impaired people.”

• Creating text messages is accessible, and you just follow the voice prompts. You use the multi-tap method for composing the message, pressing the 2 key once for the letter A, twice for B and 3 times for C, etc.
• There are some inaccessible aspects, e.g., the pound sign (#) is the space bar and the OK key sends the message, which you wouldn’t know without a good manual or learning with a friend. Punctuation is accessible. You press the 1 key once for a period, twice for a comma and it reads it out to you.
• Important Note, the LG VX8350’s voice cannot read text messages you receive.

So this LG might be the most accessible, but it still can’t read text messages aloud to us.

A2006 article in gizmag Emerging Technology Magazine gushes over a Samsung “Touch Messenger” cell phone for the blind That won an Industrial Design Excellence Award (IDEA) that year. Only problem? The “Touch Messenger” is not in production yet.

The innovative Touch Messenger enables the visually impaired users to send and receive Braille text messages. The 3-4 button on the cell phone is used as two Braille keypads and text messages can be checked through the Braille display screen in the lower part. Once this product is commercialized, it is expected to dramatically boost the quality of life for visually impaired people, numbering as many as 180 million worldwide.

I have no idea what it was that made Robbie wonder how I’d be able to text. He is 25, though, so I know he spends a lot of his day with his thumbs on his phone. That, plus his genetic aversion to chatting on the phone would make him curious about how I manage without being able to text. I promised him I’d look into it, and told him if I figured out a way, he’d be the first person I’d text. “My first message will be ‘Hi’” I laughed. “That will probably be about as much as I can handle .”

But then I found a post called How To Send Email To Any Cell Phone (for Free)
that explained how I can sit at my computer, compose an email message, and text it to a cell phone!

Here is how it works:

Most of mobile carriers offer free Email to SMS gateways which can be used to forward simple text emails to a mobile phone. And the good news, majority of those gateways are free and available to the general public. You just need to know the number and the carrier of the recipient to start emailing them to mobile phone

I had no idea which carrier Robbie used, so I just typed his phone number in and tried it with three popular ones (the site provides a list of email addresses to use with a bunch of different carriers). Since I could use my computer keyboard, my message was a bit more complicated than a simple “hi.” I wrote, “omg, aunt betha cn txt now.”

Wondering what Robbie’s response was? Me, too. He can’t text back to my email address, and if he texts to my cell phone, I won’t be able to read his message. My God. Robbie and I may have to break a family tradition. Pick up the phone. Actually talk to each other again!

My brother-in-law Lon is just itching to use the homemade gift he got last Christmas--a pine cone backscratcher.

My Grandma was “green” long before Kermit was a tadpole. She cleaned houses for a living and walked to all her jobs. She never owned a car; never even got a driver’s license. Her carbon footprint was far smaller then her real one, the one she left all over Elmhurst, Illinois with those practical, black, leather shoes of hers.

Her name even had a green, “friend of wildlife” ring to it: Grandma Moos was 33 years old when the stock market crashed – the great depression taught her to recycle wayyy before the word “green” came to mean “environmentally friendly.”

She cut frayed worn-out wool coats into long ribbons, sewed the strips into tubes and wove them into throw rugs. Burnt-out light bulbs were never thrown away – Grandma Moos shoved them into socks to make the fabric stiffer. You know, so she could darn holes. Because, of course, she neverthrew out a pair of socks! She saved old nylons and hose, too, using these throwaways as stuffing for her hand-sewn pillows.

The list goes on and on. Empty wooden spools of thread were strung on old shoelaces for babies in the family to play with. Used wrapping paper was pressed with a cool iron, then reused. And reused. And reused. Vegetable and fruit crates? They were covered with padding (made from those worn-out nylons I told you about) and cloth, transformed into baskets for our dolls.

Grandma Moos died in 1990, but her green spirit lives on. Especially at Christmas. She left 11 grandchildren, and now many of my siblings and cousins are grandparents, too. – buying Christmas presents for everyone is pretty much out of the question. So we pick names instead. But here’s the rub: you have to make a gift for the person you choose.

New babies press handprints into clay wall hangings, cousins stuff homemade pillows for gifts, pinecones collected in backyards are magically transformed into Christmas ornaments –and back-scratchers!

I get compliments on the earrings my niece Jennifer made me every time I wear them. Every night I cuddle on the couch under an afghan my sister Cheryl crocheted. Not every gift is so treasured, though. Example: Last Christmas Mike chose our nephew Ben, A Cub fan. Mike covered an old pin with white paper, wrote the letters “sh” onto it with a magic marker, and presented it to Ben with a Cub shirt, the one that boldly announces IT’S GONNA HAPPEN. “Wear the shirt as is during the season, “mike wrote in the instruction form he put together for Ben. “And then attach the “sh” pin in front of the first word during the playoffs.” Still scratching your head trying to figure out what cursed the Cubs this year? Now you know. It was Mike Knezovich.

Usually gifts are G-rated, but we're talking Cubs-White Sox here.

Some family members get into a groove – one brother-in law is a hunter, so every year he has his catch made into a deerhide wallet, or a deerhide make-up bag, or deerhide gloves. My brother Doug, a jazz trombonist, always writes a song for the person he chooses. Last year I was the lucky one – you can hear Doug performing “Beth, Betha, Best” with his band by clicking the “play” arrow/button below. You’ll hear a little musician talk before the song begins, so be patient.

Doug’s daughter (my niece) Marsha Boyer wrote an article about our Christmas tradition — “Cousin Pen Pal Kit” appears in this month’s issue of Family fun Magazine.

Grant picked his 11-year-old cousin, Anita, who lives three hours away, and whom he had seen only a few times. At the time, Grant wasn’t particularly interested in practicing his writing in school, so we came up with the idea to make a pen pal kit for his cousin.

Marsha’s article describes her 7-year-old son Grant making personalized stationery, including that in a package with a pen, pre-addressed envelopes, postage stamps, a picture of Grant with his bio, his age, grade, and his favorite things to do.

We figured the kit would make writing fun and be a great way for him to get to know Anita….the cousins wrote letters back and forth regularly (well, regularly for two youngsters). Grant liked to send drawings, Anita decorated her letters with stickers. Anita’s mom, my cousin, was happy to see her daughter writing more. Most of all, Grant and Anita loved getting their own mail.

We’re all delighted to add Marsha to the growing list of published writers in the family, and of course we’re tickled to have our homemade Christmas ritual touted in a national magazine. I’d gush more about all this, but I’ve gotta get away from this computer keyboard – I haven’t finished making this year’s gift yet!

A homemade pen pal kit made a writer out of my nephew, Grant.

During school presentations, I show schoolkids how I read Braille. I tell them how I listen to books on tape. I explain how a talking computer works and describe the way I use a screen-reader to read email messages and check out newspaper articles online.

The kids learn I can’t read print. So when teachers ask them to write thank-you notes afterwards, some of them reason, (wisely, I might add) that they shouldn’t bother – Beth can’t read print, and neither can Hanni!

Truth is, Hanni and I honestly and sincerely do not need to be thanked for visiting classrooms. If anything, we should be thanking the kids — their enthusiasm and curiosity buoys us for days and weeks after each school visit. But okay, okay, I will admit it. I do enjoy hearing what the kids had to say about us after we’ve visited.

Teachers often email a thank-you, knowing I can use my talking computer to listen to the note. Sometimes those emails mention how the students are still talking about Hanni days after our visit –it’s gratifying! The class we visited at Washington Irving Elementary mailed a cassette — students recorded their thank-yous aloud. Their teacher told me it was hard to send the tape off to me — the kids liked reviewing it, they liked hearing their voices played over and over. And over. And over. They were reluctant to let the cassette go! When I visited my great-nephew Grant at Douglas MacArthur Elementary in Indianapolis, his class pasted gumdrops on a big sheet of heavy cardboard to spell out the words “THANK YOU” in Braille. When I read the card in front of the class, one of the gumdrops fell off – Hanni got a treat! And now this week Hanni and I are enjoying a new high-tech thank-you: Ms. Martin from Longfellow School wrote a blog post about our class visit last Tuesday, complete with video!

It’s fun to experience the creative ways teachers and kids come up with to thank us. And I still do appreciate getting notes the old-fashioned way, too – you cannot imagine how entertaining it can be to hear Mike read some of the handmade thank-you notes that come in the mail. What can I say – Mike just has a knack for describing crayoned illustrations! A packet from our visit to Baranoff Elementary School in Austin Texas includes a card from Andrew, who was my initial connection to that far-away class. I met Andrew at a White Sox game in Chicago last summer. Long story, and I’ll spare you the details. For this post, all you need to know is that Andrew drew an image of Hanni and me walking around the streets of Chicago: the Sears Tower, a factory, and what we think might be… a ballpark!

Many of the Austin thank-you notes said they liked that I was “funny.” I must say, a sense of humor does come in handy when hearing thank you notes from kids. My favorite card in the Austin batch came from a girl who wrote, “even if you weren’t blind, you wouldn’t see me because I was absent.” She still thanked Hanni and me for coming to her school.

Thursday was Elmhurst Academy Day. Next, the world. Or at least, Longfellow School.

You read this blog. So you already know. I’m a shameless self-promoter. And now, sound the trumpets, ta-da, I’m taking the shameless art of self-promotion to a new level. On this day, in this post, I am promoting an article my children’s book publisher wrote about my skills at, you guessed it: shameless self-promotion!

The brilliant, not-to-be-missed article, written by Francine Rich from Blue Marlin Publications, appears in the new issue of The Bulletin, — a bi-monthly publication of The Society of Children’s Book Writers and Illustrators.

An Insider’s View (subtitled “A Small Publisher’s Perspective on Why It’s Important to Promote Yourself as an Author AND a Promoter”) is only available online to SCBWI members. If you don’t have an SCBWI membership, though, don’t despair! I’m a member and will sneak in a few “teasers” from the article here.

In 2003, Beth had had an adult memoir published through the University of Illinois Press. Now, in 2006, she was ready to use all her connections to create a marketing campaign for her picture book. And create she did. The minute she signed the Blue Marlin Publications contract, she turned herself into a human network. As the weeks progressed, I learned there was very little Beth wouldn’t do to promote her book.

At this point in the article, Francine mentions an idea she came up with after learning Hanni and I would be staying at the same hotel independent bookstore owners were staying at during Book Expo America last year. Francine thought it might be good to paste the book’s cover image on my butt as I walked around the lobby. Shameless as the idea was, I had to decline. I definitely do have enough room back there to advertise, but trust me, that wouldn’t be a good promotion of my “self.”

In a section of the article dedicated to school visits, Francine wrote:

Since Beth comes from a large family, she offers to visit the schools of her nieces and nephews, cousins’ children, and their friends. She offers the schools the option of purchasing books.
And always, she totes her postcards, extra fliers about her school visits, bookmarks, and announcements about future appearances. Every event is a networking opportunity for a future event.

True to form, Hanni and I will have appeared at three different schools this week, the very week the shameless self-promotion article appeared in the SCBWI Bulletin. Last Tuesday we were at Baranoff Elementary School in Austin, TX; on Thursday we were at the Elmhurst Academy in Elmhurst, IL; and this Tuesday we’ll visit Longfellow School in Oak Park, IL. I never know what future gigs might come from school visits like these, and I get a kick out of tracking it all.
The article concludes with some flattering compliments from Francine:

The bottom line is that Beth is a dream for a tiny publisher like me. In return, I am willing to put more time, money, and effort into promoting Beth’s book than I ordinarily would because I just know my investments will not be wasted. I know full well that authors who promote themselves and their books as wholeheartedly as Beth Finke are not easy to find. But authors wishing to work with small publishers must understand
that a great piece of writing will appear even greater if the author offers specific plans for getting that story into the hands of readers.

Aw, shucks. Thanks, Francine. Truth is, you are the one who is a dream come true for a tiny children’s book writer like me. Happy Thanksgiving!

I brought my White Sox cap with me to the conference Hanni and I went to in Austin this week. I wanted everyone there to know we were from Chicago.

It’s a strange and wonderful feeling to come “out” as a proud Chicagoan. And what an odd sensation to have national columnists take note of this, too. I was so pleased with Garrison Keillor’s November 12 column about Chicago that I emailed it to all my poor, sad, uncool friends who find themselves living somewhere outside the new center of the universe. In each email I highlighted the last few sentences.

And Chicago becomes The First City. Step aside, San Francisco. Shut up, New York. The Midwest is cool now. The mind reels.

And then today, another column about Chicago’s rise to the top of the heap! Titled A New Wind Is Blowing in Chicago, it came out in the New York Times. You’ve heard of that paper, haven’t you? It’s published in a little town east of here that used to call us the Second City.

Chicago has long been a place that seems comfortable — or, at least, well adjusted — to losing, a place where you put your head down and shoulder through whatever hand is dealt you.

But not anymore! The column goes on to quote famous Chicago chefs, authors and musicians describing the “hope:” and “change” we are experiencing here.

“It seems like there are eight million people walking around here congratulating each other,” said Scott Turow, the best-selling novelist who was born in the city. “Chicagoans are unbelievably proud of Barack and feel of course that he’s ours, because he is.”

Jeff Tweedy, the leader of the band Wilco, lives in Chicago and is a longtime friend of the president-elect.

“I think people really do enjoy the idea that we’re living in the center of the world all of the sudden,” Mr. Tweedy said.

It’s true. For days –even weeks — after the election it seemed all the people Hanni and I encountered on the streets and sidewalks were happy. I heard people being downright nice to each other, offering help to strangers. Even the Chicagoans (what were there, hmm, three of them, maybe?!) who didn’t vote for Obama are walking taller, just for all the attention we’re getting. And the city’s new tourism campaign? “Experience the city the Obamas enjoy.” It’s great fun for all of us. I spent a lot of my time in Texas this week gushing about Chicago to anyone who would listen. And you know what? They actually were interested! They all laughed as much as I did, though, when I told them about an encounter I’d had just the day before leaving for Austin — en experience that serves to remind me the Obamaglow can’t last forever. I’d taken Hanni out to “empty” at her favorite tree, and when walking back I brushed shoulders with a woman walking the other direction. “Excuse you, bitch!” she snapped. I don’t think she was referring to my female dog there. The comment didn’t alarm me – it made me laugh. At myself, really. All the bragging I’d been doing about Chicago, my pride, group hugs, happiness…and then this dose of reality. Somehow it struck me as funny. Still does. And I’m still delighted to live in a place where, every day, I can “Experience the City the Obamas Enjoy.”