Gus, Hanni and I--in front of the Hank Aaron statue outside Miller Park in Milwaukee.

Gus is always happy to be at a ball game--especially on his birthday.

A fourth grader raised his hand Friday and asked,” What happens when you go to Wrigley Field?” We were at Emma Melzer Elementary School, doing the “q&a” part of our presentation. Meltzer School is in Morton Grove, a northern suburb of Chicago. Like most north-siders, the principal -and many of the students – at Melzer are Cub fans. And sometimes Cub fans can’t imagine going to any other park than Wrigley. “You mean, how does Hanni get me to a baseball game?” I asked. After all, I told them, Hanni has been to five different major league parks with me. And as it happened, Mike, Hanni and I were leaving the next morning for Wisconsin – it was our son Gus’ birthday, and we were taking him to a Milwaukee Brewers game.

At all the parks Hanni and I have gone to together (Seattle, St. Louis, Milwaukee plus Wrigley and US Cellular in Chicago) we’ve traveled “sighted guide” – a method you might remember from reading my My Date with Billy Balducci post.

“But a lot of times the people I’m there with are all men,” I said. “So Hanni guides me through the women’s bathroom by herself.” They laughed and laughed at that one. It was a killer!

The question about Wrigley gave me an opportunity to talk about something serious, too. The only time Hanni ever went with me to a game at Wrigley Field, the man taking tickets said he didn’t know if the dog was allowed. I pointed to Hanni’s harness, told him she was a Seeing Eye dog. He sent me to a different gate. The man at the second gate wasn’t sure. He’d have to get a supervisor.

Turns out that a week earlier someone had brought their puppy to Wrigley, claiming the dog was a service dog. The dog misbehaved, and fans sitting nearby complained. After that, the people working the gates were told to scrutinize anyone coming in with a service dog.

“The guy who brought the dog in with them was pretending he had a disability, just so his dog could come along,” I told the kids. “And that’s not right.” I didn’t have to explain ADA law, or how long the Seeing Eye and other pioneering guide dog schools had worked to get access legislation passed, or what backlash means. The kids understood. And they agreed with me. ”

That’s not nice!” one of the kindergartners in front said. She sounded troubled. That’s when I remembered. I hadn’t finished the story. The supervisor finally said we could go in, I assured them. “It just wasn’t right to make Hanni and me wait while everyone else got to walk right in.”

They agreed. After all, we might have missed batting practice. And everyone knows, duh, that batting practice is your best chance to get autographs. Or catch a baseball!

It’s weird, not being able to see myself in a mirror. Instead of dwelling on things I can’t do, though, I try to take advantage. Brush my teeth, comb my hair, wash my face. Smile, and assume I look like I did when I was in my twenties.

But then, every once in a while, a comment throws me off for a while. Yesterday I got an email from my dear friend Steve:

you’re probably tired of hearing this, but every time I see Michelle Obama, which is a lot lately, there’s something about her face that makes me think of you. Which makes me like her even more.

Ironically, shortly before receiving that note, I’d been talking to a woman in the locker room where I swim.

“Have you seen Barrack Obama?” she asked. I couldn’t’ know for sure, but from the sound of her voice, this woman was older. And African-American. I started to tell her yes, that I’d seen Barrack Obama in Chicago when he was promoting his Audacity of Hope book. But for some reason, Right before opening my mouth, I realized: she wanted to know if I’d ever seen Barrack Obama. So I told her no, that I’d been blind almost 25 years.

“He’s cute!” she said.

“Does he have a nice smile?” I asked. I can often tell — from the sound of a voice — that someone has a big smile.

“MM-hmmm,” she nodded. With a big smile on her face, of course.

And then I asked about Michelle Obama. I knew two things about her looks. For one, I’d heard on the radio that Michelle Obama is tall.

I’m tall, too.

For two, after Michelle Obama’s speech Monday night, I overheard a guy at our local tavern say, “Well, that Michelle Obama proved one thing: if you’re a woman, and you’re a Democrat, you can still wear a dress.”

I like wearing dresses, too.

“What did she do, did she go to school at Princeton or something like that?” the woman in the locker room asked me. “She looks like a school teacher. Or a librarian.”

“You mean she looks serious?” I asked.

“She looks smart,” the woman answered.

Note to my friend Steve: I’ll never get tired of being told I look like Michelle Obama.

You know who Billy Balducci is, right? The bartender at Hackney’s, our local tavern? The guy sitting next to me in that photo from an October blog post? You know, the post called Cheers!?

It’s been a year since I started this Safe & Sound blog, and out of all the posts I’ve published, thatCheers! one got more traffic than anything else I’ve posted here. The Cheers! ball got rolling after a woman from Long Island left a comment:

Christina S.
October 30, 2007 at 3:40 pm

Is it just me, or does anyone else think that Billy Balducci is a total hottie?

Once word got out about the Hackney’s Hottie, everyone had to take a look. My “unique visit” stat went sky-high! I became a blog maven.

The Hackney’s Hottie is a White Sox fan, and when I found myself with two free tickets to a game, he agreed to go with Hanni and me. (Mike couldn’t go — the game was in the afternoon, and the poor guy had to work.)

Hanni came along as chaperone, guiding me as usual until we got close to the park. Crowds were forming, so I switched to the “follow” command: Billy took the lead, Hanni and I trailed behind. That didn’t work for long, though. White Sox Park was so packed with fans that day (the White Sox are in first place, after all!) that it was too hard for Hanni to keep track of Billy. So I dropped Hanni’s harness, signaling to her that she doesn’t have to lead anymore. I kept track of Hanni with the leash in my left hand while hooking onto Billy Balducci’s arm (just above the elbow) with my right. This was a first for Billy – when he and I get together, there is usually a bar between us. He had never been a “sighted guide” before, and he seemed nervous about—and a little tickled by – the responsibility. I could follow his body movements once he learned to hold his arm naturally and close to his side, and he knew intuitively to stop at stairs or curbs. I showed Billy how to warn me when passages got too narrow for the three of us to pass through – he would move his arm to his back, as if he were reaching into his hip pocket. That was my cue to stay directly behind him.

Hanni usually enjoys walking “sighted guide” for a while – it gives her a break from leading. Remember, though – even though I don’t have my hand on the harness, she still has it strapped to her back. This means no one can pet her, and she can’t snarf up food from the floor or sniff at other people. So after a while, she gets frustrated. As long as her harness is on, she figures, she might as well be working.

Julie Taylor, Director of Guest Services and Diamond Suite Operations for the White Sox (and, more importantly, a dog lover!) couldn’t help but notice us. She called us over, asking if she could see our tickets. “I think we can move you somewhere better,” she said. We ended up right behind the Texas Ranger dugout.

Billy gave me play-by-play when necessary, the White Sox came from behind to win, and we had a ball.

The next time Mike, Hanni and I walked in to Hackney’s, we found Billy Balducci behind the bar telling the owner about the game. He waited until we were within earshot before adding one last detail. “And Jim, here’s the best part,” he gushed. “I was arm-in-arm with Beth the whole time!”