Speedo’s good at traffic checks.

In addition to everyday challenges (trees, parking meters, broken sidewalks, other pedestrians) on our daily walks, we also have to learn to face the challenges of dealing with distracted drivers. Seeing Eye staff members drive vans and quiet cars around while we work our routes to provide us with traffic checks: they intentionally cut in front of us from time to time, simulating real-life challenges we’ll face at home from drivers who text and/or take other chances behind the wheel.

My new black Lab is not only adorable (local pedestrians we meet at corners have told me so!) but so far she has done exactly the right thing at traffic checks — and we’ve had many! If I had to choose one single thing for Speedo to be good at, it’s traffic checks. Back in Chicago, that skill will be key.

So what have we been up to this week? Well, Monday morning was the first solo trip for all 20 of us here with our new Seeing Eye dogs. No rest for the weary: Tuesday we went out once in the morning and once in the afternoon to learn and practice a second brand new route through Morristown, this new one significantly more complicated than the first. Four-way stoplights, uncontrolled intersections, T-intersections. Yesterday morning we did that route solo. Today at breakfast the woman who sits next to me at our dining table let us know she reads the obituaries every morning. “Didn’t see any of our names on it today,” she said. “Guess everyone made it.”

We hardly had a chance to congratulate ourselves on yesterday morning’s solo before embarking on Yesterday afternoon’s bus ride to nearby Morris Plains. Once there, our dogs guided us from the Morris Plains bus stop to the Morristown commuter train station. Then they got us on the train in Morris Plains. Then off the train in Morristown. That’s where we practiced work on train platforms (making sure our dogs didn’t get us too close to the train tracks!). Then the dogs guided us from the train station safely back to our van. This morning? Our dogs led us to town, and I learned a much better way to have Mike maneuver me, my Seeing Eye dog and a shopping cart through a grocery store.

I must have known what I was doing when I gave my new dog the pen name “Speedo.” She stops for cars, yes, but she is so spirited when guiding me that sometimes, when we get to a quiet side street with no cross traffic, she forgets to stop at all. And that requires a correction.

My first time at The Seeing Eye school lo those many years ago taught me that our weeks here are more about training the humans than training the dogs. The dogs we are matched with here have had the bulk of their training by the time we humans show up. We’re here now to review old methods — and learn new ones — to continuereinforcing the things they’ve been trained to do to keep the two of us safe.

Wait. Beth, you said this is your fifth Seeing Eye dog, right? Don’t you already know how to keep them trained?

I do. But I get lazy. And eight years with Whitney have left me a little rusty. I check in with Mike during breaks here, and every phone call includes my recounting some basic technique I’d forgotten since my last time here.

How to hold the harness, for example.

There’s a natural tendency — which can be exacerbated by a dog walking slower as she ages — to want to guide the dog, and to push. But you have to have a somewhat loose hold on the harness while pulling back on it just a bit. Not exactly intuitive, but our dogs count on that sensation of pulling and leading us, that’s how it works!

Uh-oh. There’s the intercom. Time for lunch. “Speedo, forward!”

OK, first things first—Beth’s new dog:

Meet Speedo!

She’s a black Lab, 22″ tall and she weighs 54 pounds
Birthday: March 8, 2018

She’s Beth’s youngest and smallest dog to date. Her working name for public purposes remains Speedo for the foreseeable future. Beth says being back at The Seeing Eye is like taking piano lessons after you haven’t for a long while. You realize how many bad habits you’ve developed. All which reminds me that The Seeing Eye trains dogs…and people.

Now, back home.

I remain conflicted about social media, and given its corporate decisions, I don’t care a lot for Facebook. But I actually have to have an account for work purposes. And as with everything technology, I still hold that it’s human behavior that’s the issue.

All that said, the one unequivocal good that I have derived from Facebook over time is coming across great pieces of writing that I probably wouldn’t otherwise have discovered. They’re usually posted in good faith without some screed, often with a comment like, “Worth the read.” Which means, don’t worry, it’s not a rant.

Last week one such post appeared on my feed. Entitled, “My Semester with the Snowflakes,” I wasn’t sure what to expect.

Well, it’s by a former Navy Seal who became an unlikely freshman at Yale at the age of 52. Writer James Hatch is honest—he acknowledges having come from a culture that would call Yale and other Ivy League students “snowflakes.”

Here’s a taste:

Let me address this “snowflake” thing. According to the Urban Dictionary, a “snowflake” is a “term for someone that thinks they are unique and special, but really are not. It gained popularity after the movie Fight Club from the quote ‘You are not special. You’re not a beautiful and unique snowflake. You’re the same decaying organic matter as everything else.’ ”

I hear the term occasionally from buddies of mine who I love. They say things like, “How are things up there with the liberal snowflakes?”

Let me assure you, I have not met one kid who fits that description. None of the kids I’ve met seem to think that they are “special” any more than any other 18–22-year-old. These kids work their asses off. I have asked a couple of them to help me with my writing. One young woman volunteered to help me by proof-reading my “prose” and, for the record, I believe she will be the President someday. I recently listened while one of my closer pals, a kid from Portland, Oregon, talked to me about the beauty of this insane mathematics problem set he is working on. There is a young man in our group who grew up in Alaska working on fishing boats from a young age and who plays the cello. There is an exceptional young woman from Chicago who wrote a piece for the Yale Daily News expressing the importance of public demonstrations in light of a recent police shooting. She and I are polar opposites. I am the “patriarchy” at first glance, and she is a young black woman who is keen on public protests. Not the type of soul I generally find myself in conversation with. We come from different worlds and yet we both read classic works with open hearts and minds.

He goes on to weave what I found to be an inspirational read that reminded—not preached—of the power of respectful conversation instead of bumper-sticker anger.

You can read it here.

With that I’ll leave you with a favorite passage from the piece:

To me there is no dishonor in being wrong and learning. There is dishonor in willful ignorance and there is dishonor in disrespect.

Our class of 20 blind people is divided into four different groups, each group taught by another certified trainer. My teacher is terrific. After receiving a degree in elementary education at Stephen F. Austin State University in Nacogdoches, Texas, she taught kindergarten. During summers she was hired at summer camps for children who had disabilities. She enjoyed that work so much she returned to Stephen F. Austin State University to get graduate certification in orientation and mobility and, for a while, taught that to people who are blind. She loves dogs, and moving to New Jersey for The Seeing Eye’s three-year apprentice program seemed like a natural next step. Now she’s an instructor here. From the Seeing Eye Web site:

Staff instructors are full-time employees who hold college degrees from various fields of study and have successfully completed three years of specialized on-the-job training. They relate well to dogs and people and are physically fit, since their jobs are physically demanding and involve working outdoors in all weather. Some of our instructors came from teaching, business consulting and rehabilitation fields. Some were in the military and worked with dogs before, and many started out as kennel assistants here at The Seeing Eye.

Another trainer here started out in animal sciences at Rutgers University here in New Jersey. “I wanted to move to Hollywood and train animals,” she told me. “You know, for television and the movies.” That all changed after she got involved with the puppy raising program on campus at Rutgers. She raised two Seeing Eye puppies while she was a student there, eventually becoming president of the club. “I knew your dog Harper when he was a puppy!” she said. “I’m still really good friends with the people who raised him at Rutgers.”

Sometimes Harper thought he was a lap dog.

Each person who volunteers to raise a puppy for the Seeing Eye writes up a little report to let us in on what our dogs lives were like before they were matched with us, so I did know Harper had spent time at Rutgers. I never dreamed I’d meet the president of the club, though! Here’s an excerpt of Harper’s puppy profile:

Harper was attending classes at my university (including attending the graduation!), going on buses and trains, attending other club meetings, university equestrian team shows with 20+ horses, a trip to the airport — going on a plane but not taking off, emergency vehicles, malls, stores, fairs, the beach (his favorite), on a boat, in pools, overnight charity events, elementary school presentations, a retirement/recovery home, soccer, football, and hockey games.

So yes. Harper was a Rutgers grad! An article on the Rutgers University Seeing Eye Puppy Raising Club web site described these generous students who volunteered their time to raise puppies for us.

To truly stop and spend a few moments observing the volunteers of the Rutgers University Seeing Eye Puppy Raising Club, you’re struck too by their obvious affection for and commitment to their charges – cute, adorable puppies with names like Elroy, Yankee, Harper, and Oz.

Did you read that? The article mentioned Harper! Over this past weekend the former Rutgers University Seeing Eye Puppy Raising Club President said she’ll let her friends know she met me. “I’ll try to get their contact info to you.”

Our friends Chris And Larry took Harper in after he retired, and they let me know they’d love to let Harper’s puppy raisers know what their fellow Rutgers grad is up to these days.

I’ll be amazed if that happens. Instructors are wayyy busier than we students are here. When would she find time to locate that contact info? Maybe after class is over. In the meantime, back to Harper’s puppy profile. My favorite part:

He is the coolest dog I’ve ever had. His personality is a great combination of independence and affection.

Amen to that. THANK YOU to all the instructors here who work so, so hard to train dogs to keep us safe and, thereby, build our confidence. And thanks also to the wonderful, generous volunteer puppy raisers out there, including Whitney’s new family in Pennsylvania. You all are our heroes.

Looking forward to hearing the puppy profile for my new dog — my instructor will read it out loud to me late next week, before my 22-month-old female Black Lab guides me down the jetway onto our flight to her new home with Mike and me in Chicago.

The dogs work hard even before they meet their human companions. Here, a trainer teaches a dog how to lead around common obstacles.

How’s life at the Seeing Eye, you ask? Here’s an account of our latest day of training:

• • 5:30 a.m. Music comes through intercoms to wake us up. The day before we were matched with our dogs it was Fleetwood Mac’s “Don’t Stop Thinking About Tomorrow.” This morning it was The Cure’s “Friday I’m in Love.”.” Every day, a different song to wake us up.
  • 5:35Dress up warm then out to the courtyard for “park time.” Twenty blind people circle their dogs around them, all  urging our dog to empty. Trainers are with us and call out to let us know when we’ve had success: “#1 for Dilbert!” and Dilbert’s owner whoops it up to encourage him to always go on command. “Harry has a #2!” And his owner squeals with delight. Today was a red letter day, my dog did her #1 AND #2 fairly quickly: once they do both you can have them lead you back into the building (and warmth!) using the “inside!” command.
  • 5:45 Enter room, command your dog to “Go to your place.” Her “place” is her crate, and you leave your dog in her crate while you dish out one-and-a-half cups dry dog food from the tightly-closed bin on the floor near our dormroom door.
  • Zip open crate, say and repeat the word “rest” as you place the dish in front of her. Keep saying “rest” until you stand up, clap your hands and happily call out, “Take it!” Your dog must stay in the crate by the bedpost until you say those magic words. If they go after the food before those magic words, you pick up the food and go through the entire routine again–she can’t have her food until she stays in her place.
  • 5:50 Your dog inhales her food, then you “heel” her to the bathroom (heel as in walk with leash, but no harness), measure out two cups of water, she drinks what she wants, and you empty out any water she didn’t drink. She only gets water when you give it to her, part of the “bonding.” She better follow my commands and keep me safe so that she can have water!
  • 5:57Clean out empty bowls with a little squeegee thing they gave us to do so, put bowls back on their shelf (above toilet) in bathroom.
  • 6:05 a.m.: I don’t know what others do, but I make myself a cup of instant coffee using this groovy collapsible “hot pot” Mike bought me for my birthday last month.
  • 6:15 Check email.
  • 6:30 Shower.
  • 6:45 Call “6368” on desk phone to hear what the menu for today is, check blood sugar and take appropriate insulin to cover breakfast.
  • 6:55 Announcement over intercom “first floor ladies, head down to the dining room” or “men from upstairs, start heading to breakfast.” We all parade down to the dining room, our dogs leading the way.
  • 7:00 Each student has an assigned seat in the dining room, we give dogs a series of commands to go “left” “forward” or “right” to get to our seat and praise them when they achieve their goal.
  • 7:15 Breakfast. The dining room is lovely, white tablecloths and all. Waiters and waitresses come to get our orders so the dogs will know how to act in a restaurant.
  • 8:00 Off in vans to training center in downtown Morristown.
  • 8:15 Today we are practicing our “solo” route. We’ve been practicing a route around Morristown for the past couple days. The route includes T-intersections, four-way stoplights, a two-way stop sign, talking walk signals, left turns, two right turns. Our “solo trip” is Sunday, and during the solo the trainer is still behind us, but quite a distance.
  • Uh-oh. Announcement over intercom just sounded: time to head to the vans to downtown Morristown. It’s not even 8:00 a.m. yet!

Beth is aloft, on her way to The Seeing Eye, and the breed/gender reveal party for her new guide dog should come tomorrow. I’ll be the first to know. I will share the information with the highest bidder. (Just kidding.)

Meantime, I’m going to try to use my solitude at home to catch up on stuff that I’d sort of hoped to do during the holidays.

Usually during these extended absences, in the early days I do bachelor stuff like indulge in Harold’s Fried Chicken or Pat’s Pizza. But coming on the heels of the holidays, I think I need to indulge less, not more, so, I may skip that part.

The Grail is a welcome new neighbor.

Luckily, I have a new choice for more wholesome food—The Grail Café opened across the street from our condo building on January 1. We took special interest in this enterprise on multiple levels. First, every successful business on our little block of Printers Row that is not a nail salon or dry cleaners is a win. Second, because one of the proprietors is Beth’s longtime hair stylist. He and his hubby are the forces behind The Grail. And we always welcome a new place to grab a bite.

We like to support new enterprises (even if they’re not bars), so between us, I think Beth and I have visited The Grail seven or eight times. So far, a big thumbs up. On the first day, they were swamped—not something I or they would’ve expected on New Year’s day. There were some hiccups, but judging from our later visits, things are smoothing out each day. Really high-quality, reasonably priced food.

Best of all, they do coffee. Really, really good coffee and espresso. Which means I will never have to step foot into our local Starbucks again. Not that I have anything against Starbucks, but man, nothing beats a good neighborhood joint.

In general, our little block is doing pretty well, a welcome development that counters the din and dust and construction of architecturally disappointing glass-box apartment buildings that are sprouting all around us.

Sandmeyer’s has weathered big-box bookstores and now, even Amazon, because, well, it’s Sandmeyer’s.

For example, our local wine/spirits shop, Printers Row Wine, has always had a really nice, approachable selection of wine, beer, and liquor, all with down-to-earth advice. Recently, they also got a liquor license and opened a bar and some cozy little tables. It’s a great, quiet place to have a glass of wine or beer, and people watch. Just down the street, a little corner market called Totto’s (pronounced like the Wizard of Oz dog) opened a few months ago. It punches way above its square footage. And though our local bicycle shop closed (boo), a clothing store is replacing it. Our new local—Half Sour—at the old Blackie’s location, appears to be thriving . And two long-time staples, Sandmeyer’s Bookstore and Kasey’s Tavern, are humming along.

A few days ago, our friend asked how Beth and I found Printers Row. I explained that when Beth was in a residential rehab facility in the city after she lost her sight, her sister and brother in law would spring her from her dorm periodically. More than once, they went to Printers Row. Those evenings meant a lot to Beth. The name stuck in my mind.

Years later, when we decided to move to Chicago from Urbana, we did a couple scouting trips to the neighborhood. We struck up conversations with locals. Printers Row had a nice, welcoming feel that was at once vibrant and cozy.

I’m happy to say it still does.