A few weeks ago Beth heard that Little Feat, one of my favorite bands, would be playing at The Vic, a great little old Vaudeville theater turned music venue.

Here’s the deal: I usually pretty much avoid nostalgia trips. For one thing, if I’ve seen a band, and the show was good, I don’t feel the need to repeat. For another, I fear that the bands I loved in 1979 are not, well, the bands I loved in 1979.

But Little Feat! For those who don’t know, the band’s founder and heart and soul, Lowell George, died too young the way rock and roll stars die too young. I was lucky enough to see the band before his demise. The band played on and eventually added a new lead singer—Craig Fuller, from a band called Pure Prairie League. I was skeptical that Little Feat could be good without George, but I saw the reincarnated band maybe 30 years ago and they were terrific.

So, they’d redeemed themselves once and earned the benefit of the doubt. And, well, they’re Little Feat, dammit! The Little Feat that to this day, when I put on their live masterpiece “Waiting for Columbus,” transports me to college parties in old ramshackle houses in Urbana. To Assembly Hall in Champaign where I saw them while Lowell George was still Willin’. To Washington, D.C., when I was fresh out of college and I learned my newfound friends shared my affection for Little Feat.

These days, Beth and I save our shekels to go to Jazz Showcase—an intimate room just down the street from our place, where we get to enjoy a music form we’ve acquired a taste for and cultivated in adulthood. But, Beth and I uncharacteristically sprung for seats for Little Feat’s 50^thAnniversary Tour.

Gulp. 1969. 2019. Gulp.

Some of the names have changed, some are the same, and they still banged out their signature, complex, syncopated rhythms. Beth and I even danced a bit.

And it did spark memories, but it also cast a certain melancholy. The band was good. But the performance was wanting in some ephemeral way. I was left wondering whether it was because they’re older or because I am older. Maybe both.

It did not feel or sound like it did in 1979 at the Assembly Hall. It couldn’t.

That can’t be recreated. But that long ago time and feeling, it’s not gone. It lives in the human cloud of friends and shared experience that will be around as long as we are.

And that’s pretty damn good.

Still haven’t seen the movie – or a single episode on television – but after meeting Brendan Coyle, a.k.a. Mr. Bates at Goodman Theater earlier this year, I guess I just can’t get enough of seeing actors from Downton Abbey live on stage! When I signed up for the touch tour of “The King’s Speech” at Chicago Shakespeare Theatre last Sunday, I had no idea that Harry Haddon-Paton, the actor playing the lead, had been in Downton Abbey, too. My friend Laura came along for the touch-tour and the performance, and she generously offered to write this guest post to give you a sighted-eye view.

by Laura Ikens

I’d been intrigued by the touch tours Beth talks about and had maybe not-so-subtly offered to accompany her to one. Finally it was my chance! Even better, it was for The King’s Speech, playing at the Chicago Shakespeare Theater.

Like many of us, I had seen the movie (and thought Colin Firth was pretty dreamy) and was familiar with the story, but with the passing of almost ten years it had faded in my memory. I jumped at Beth’s offer.

Beth was queen for a day…err, minute.

We were greeted at the theater by numerous members of the staff who directed us to our starting point, where they had three of the costumes (the real costumes, the very ones the actors would be wearing on stage!) on dressmaker dummies for us to pore over. Costumers from the show were on hand to give us the back story on each piece. Beth an I were encouraged to touch the fabric, the buttons, the medals — everything.

The first was the suit of the speech therapist, Lionel Logue. Created of warm brown herringbone wool, the suit was impeccably tailored and rumpled on purpose to mimic Lionel’s style.

Next was an outfit for Queen Elizabeth, more popularly known to us as the Queen Mum (she was the Queen before she was the Mum!). With detail almost like dotted swiss but a bit bigger, in a rich pink fabric with silk collar, the dress was so evocative of class and period. And the coat! Gosh, I wanted to put it on and wear it home!

Interesting to note that Beth appreciated having the costumes displayed on dressmaker dummies. That allowed her to feel the fabrics with structure and picture how they might fit.

The piece de resistance was the uniform of the king. The braids, the brocades, the medals! So true to life. The costumers and wigmakers were generous with their time, chatting with us beforehand and explaining why it was so important to keep as true to life as possible. They knew history buffs would call them out on their mistakes. We also learned a lot about how they manage the quick costume changes between scenes (some Velcro and a lot of nimble fingers!).

There was also a table of accessories, including shoes and hats and crowns. Beth asked if she could try some on, and they answered with an easy, “Sure!” I thought Beth made quite the sovereign.

The costumes were just the beginning, though, to get us primed. Next we were treated to a brief lecture by Marilyn Halperin, the Director of Education and Communications. She spoke of the background of the play and the historical context. When she described how the stage and set were designed, we learned the play would be staged in the new theater at Chicago Shakespeare. A proscenium design, the new theatre is able to be converted to various configurations, vs. the thrust design of the legacy theater. Who knew?

Various pieces of the play’s sets were available for the tour attendees to touch and explore. It was interesting to hear that Beth was not as much into the set tour. Her perspective was that having been sighted prior to becoming blind, she could picture a desk or a bookshelf, so had no need to go on stage to touch and understand those objects.

The model airplanes (a hobby of both Logue and the future king), were a different story. They were a key feature of the play, and a staff member brought one over for Beth to touch. So thoughtful.

The crown jewel of the tour was the actor appearances. The six main actors in the play lined up at the front of the stage, and each chatted briefly about their role in the play, their appearance and/or physicality and how they might approach that in their portrayal. Each gave us a few lines from the play, too, and it was astonishing to witness the gentleman playing Winston Churchill transform from a khaki-and-flannel wearing American Joe to the British leader in front of our eyes — and Beth’s ears!

Also amazing was to hear actor Harry Haddon-Paton transform his posh native accent into the stammer that plagued Bertie, the reluctant king. What a treat to be able to hear about their portrayals and how they think of their characters.

The play itself was so enjoyable. If you don’t know the story, Bertie (King George VI) is reluctantly thrust into the kingship after his profligate brother decides on a partner considered unsuitable for a king. Bertie has a stutter that causes those around him from childhood to think him dim and unsuited to the throne. With the help of his unorthodox speech therapist, Bertie conquers his impediment and becomes the resolute ruler Britain needs to lead it through the second Great War.

One may have opinions on the place of the monarchy in modern society, and we’re not here to argue that. But George saw the United Kingdom through a dark time, and this story humanizes his leadership.

If you’re interested, tickets are still available for The King’s Speech at the Chicago Shakespeare Theatre — it runs through October 20, 2019.

Ali Krage’s back as a guest blogger.

You might recall a post our guest blogger Ali Krage wrote in 2016 explaining how college students who are blind can figure out how to get around a new campus without being able to see. Well, she figured it out! Three years later, Ali is in her final semester at Northern Illinois University and landed a part-time job helping new students there as as a Northern University campus ambassador. Here’s her account of one step along the way to getting hired.

by Alicia Krage

A question on the job application made me wonder whether I should mention my blindness or not. I can’t remember the exact wording of the question, but I know it asked me to explain why I’d make a good ambassador. The only way to answer that was to tell them about my blindness.

In my answer, I mentioned how I use a lot of our campus’ resources as a blind student. And for the first time, mentioning my blindness in a job application didn’t scare me. At all. I answered the other questions, checked my work, hit the “send” button and waited to hear back.

The wait was agonizing. Every few days, I’d mention to one of my friends that I hadn’t heard anything yet. They’d politely remind me that these things take time. “Relax!” they’d say. “It’ll all be okay.”

And they were right.

During breaks from class I usually read my texts or check twitter, but for some reason one day I happened to check my email instead. And there it was. An email inviting me to the Northern Ambassadors workshop. There would be activities and…an interview.

I couldn’t help it. the A ridiculous smile leapt onto my face! My parents spent the next few days talking me through the interview process, giving me advice, and practicing interview questions on me.

I woke up on the first Saturday in March — the day of the workshop — with so much excitement. You know, the kind of excitement where I probably didn’t need that morning coffee as an extra boost to keep me awake. I was awake enough!

I had a friend drive me to the workshop, not trusting the bus to get me there on time. I didn’t have to worry — I was the first to arrive. Check-in was at 12:30, and it was only 12:15.

A friendly voice greeted me as I entered. “Hi! You’re Alicia, right?” There wasn’t one hint of awkwardness in her voice. I was just another person walking around campus, just another person coming to the workshop. Maybe she knew it was me because of my white cane, but my blindness didn’t seem to rattle her.

”That’s me” I said, adding that I prefer going by Ali. “And yes, I’m here for the workshop.”

She led me to a chair, and I sat and listened as more people filed in. Some came up to me and asked how I was doing or how my day was. I felt….normal. I hate that word — because what’s normal, anyway? But the workshop hadn’t even started yet, and already there was a sense of belonging.

The workshop lasted four hours, and most of it was team building activities. The interview came at the end, and I was the first person they called. I felt this added pressure to make a good impression. I figured the first and last students would be the ones they’d remember most.

Did Ali’s interview go well? Did the interviewers remember her afterwards? Stay

Just had a great weekend visiting a friend from the neighborhood who has since moved back to his hometown of St. Louis. I took the Amtrak with another Printers Row pal. The three of us originally met, where else, at the late, great Hackney’s. Miraculously, the trains to and from the Gateway City were very nearly on time. And though it was six hours, I wouldn’t have traded it for a flight, which, door to door wouldn’t have been much faster at all. Every seat on the train is roomier and more comfortable than a first class airline seat. And, heading to the café car gave us a nice walk.

A weekend in St. Louis.

As good as it was, I can’t take a train in the United States without thinking of…Japan. Or Europe. But man, Japan. A bullet train to St. Louis would’ve been more like three hours. It also would have cost more, but bullets in Japan are just one option. There are always cheaper, conventional choices for the same routes. I have this dream:  fast trains linking all the Midwest rust belt cities—Milwaukee, Detroit, St. Louis, Cleveland—throw in Minneapolis. We become a regional economic powerhouse. Climate change/real estate refugees from the West Coast and Sun Belt would flee to the region for affordable housing, abundant fresh water, and the ability to hop around the region to do business quickly and comfortably.

A person can dream.

Apart from that, having ridden the trains in Japan and in Europe, the physical plant here in the United States is embarrassing. I’m talking about tools, old rails, and junk just piled up along track lines and even inside the stations.

Anyway, back to the trip. At one point our St. Louis buddy was driving us back from a day in downtown St. Louis, and we got to talking about politics. Along the way, he said something interesting: “I’m a Democrat, but I’m not a liberal.”

Over the weekend, the three of us talked about a lot of stuff.  My fellow traveler from the neighborhood brought up an article he’d read about the student debt problem. Our St. Louis buddy said he wasn’t sure what to think about it. “I’m not so sure I’m on board with just wiping it clean,” he said. He went on. “But you know, maybe if someone’s been on time for 10 years, then sure.” We all agreed that having people saddled with debt when they get out of college—and therefore unable to say, buy their own place—isn’t good for the economy.

Those two moments kind of stuck with me. The first, about being a Democrat but not a liberal, spoke to the power of labels. The second, about student debt, illustrated how destructive labels can be to constructive conversation. My St. Louis friend would be chastised from the right as being, indeed, not just a Democrat, but a liberal, or worse yet, a socialist, for even considering forgiving debt. And from the left, he’d be called some sort of awful neo-liberal market worshiper. Both critics would have a laundry list of talking points they heard on Fox or MSNBC, and there the conversation would end.

Which is unfortunate. Because, as another of my many wise friends once said, “We never talk about the plumbing.”

Which means, when I bring up the thing about the trains, we don’t stop to brainstorm how train travel might be improved, is it a worthy investment for the public good…the plumbing. The practicalities. We’d never get that far. Because someone would reflexively condemn anything that sounded remotely like public transportation. And someone would fatalistically say we could never do something like that here in the United States.

And thanks to them, right now, that’s right.

Happy October! The school year is back in full swing, and yesterday morning my friend Jamie drove Seeing Eye dog Whitney and me to Deerfield, a suburb of Chicago, to talk with third graders at Kipling Elementary School. We were there as part of Educating Outside The Lines, a disability awareness program that uses a hands-on approach to learning. Whitney and I are just two of many people with disabilities visiting Educating Outside the Lines schools this month to show children that everyone has things they are good at and things they struggle with. Kids discover how things like wheelchairs, sign language, service dogs and Braille books are just tools we use to help do the things we do.

During my visit I read a bit of a book in Braille, unfolded my collapsible white cane to show the kids how those work, and mimicked the robotic voice on the talking computer I use to write books.

The questions asked during the Q&A part of the presentation sparked some very thoughtful conversation.
Some examples :

• Does Whitney bark when she sees other dogs?
• When you could see and you went to elementary school did you go to Kipling and if you didn’t what was the name of the elementary school you went to?
• How old is your dog in dog years?
• How do you write books?
• How old are you?
• When Whitney retires is she still going to live with you?
• How old should a dog be to be old enough to help you?
• Blind is the worst, I know, but is there a difference between macula and blind? (Quick conversation back and forth revealed this sweet kid is worried about his Grandma, who has macular degeneration.)
• Do you have any more pets?
• So your dog is your pet and your employee, too?
• Did your dog already know all those words when you got her?
• Have you ever seen your dog without being blind?
• Is there a way to fix being blind?
• When you get a new dog, if the dog is different than this one, how will you know how it works with that dog?
• What year was it when you got Whitney?

These third-graders had been quiet and well-behaved during my entire presentation, but my answer to that last question really blew them away. “Wow!” “Can you believe that!” “That’s magic!!” “Did you hear what she said?” The kids were right to be amazed at the year I got Whitney. “2011?!” they called out in disbelief. “That’s the year we were born!”