On this Memorial Day, let’s do our very best to honor those who’ve died while serving in the armed forces—let’s stay the hell out of stupid wars from here on out. We’ve been in one war or another for most of my lifetime. All but maybe one (Desert Storm, and even that was probably avoidable) war in my lifetime has been stupid, unnecessary, and two (Viet Nam, Iraq) were rationalized by lies. You can look it up: Gulf of Tonkin and WMD.

Americans mostly endorsed this crap, so we don’t get off the hook by being solemn once a year, applauding the guest veteran during the ball game, or other sundry hollow gestures.

And while I’m at the grouch thing, let’s talk about the two worst inventions in modern history.

Retractable leashes are evil. They are leashes only in name. Their stupid users never pay enough attention to retract the leash before their (usually small) dogs do something stupid. Then they look at you sheepishly like, “What are you gonna do?” Buy a real freakin’ leash, that’s what you’re gonna do.

Number two: The CD jewel case. OK, “jewel case”? Really? Thanks to the generosity of our friend Laura, we just got Mark Knopfler’s latest CD. I hadn’t tried to open a new CD for a long while. But, nothing’s changed! The cellophane is impossibly hard to rip open, and that impossible tape thing on the top somehow lives on.

And now, I can only look forward to the first time one of us drops it, and the little ear/hinge breaks off and, well, you know.

But. The CD is really good. Thanks Laura.

And let’s all have a nice day. Except for you retractable leash users.

Every once in a while a writer in my memoir classes will suggest a writing prompt for me to consider. I like that — their ideas clue me in on what they’re especially interested in writing. Only problem? Too often their prompts are too specific.

A prompt one of my writers suggested during our recent spring session made it crystal clear what they wanted the class to write about. “It’s about sex,” they wrote in an email message to me. In case I didn’t understand what they meant, they added one more line. “Losing one’s virginity, to be exact.”

The quality of a prompt can make or break a class. I pride myself in assigning prompts writers can approach in different ways, and I consider it my job to motivate them to look at prompts from many angles. After all, part of the fun of coming to class each week is hearing the unexpected directions writers go with the assignment. An excerpt from the online Memoir Teacher Masterclass I’ve put together helps explain:

Example: If I were to assign “First day of school” for a September class, we’d spend our time together hearing story after story of walks to school, teachers, classrooms. Instead, I might assign “First Class” as a back-to-school prompt. “Have you taken any classes outside of regular school” I’d ask, suggesting they use their 500 words to describe the first day. “Or how about this: Did you ever sit in first class on a plane? On a train? What was that experience like?”

Some writers might return with essays about their first day of school, and others might write about returning to college as a young adult after dropping out. Others might write about sitting first class on an airplane, or even serving in the military, “private first class.”
Mixing it up like that makes the class more stimulating.

What could be more stimulating than hearing essay after essay about “Losing One’s Virginity,” you ask? After pondering this for a while, I responded to the writer who suggested the prompt to assure them I’d use the idea sometime during the Spring session. “I’ll word it a little differently, though, “ I wrote. “You’ll see.” So in the same way I switched “First Day of School” to “First Class” I broadened “losing One’s Virginity” to…drum roll, please…

Where do Babies Come From?

Perfect prompt to assign for the week of Mother’s Day! In class I credited the writer for inspiring the prompt and suggested many ways writers might approach it. How did they learn where babies come from? Did their junior high or high school teach sex education? “If you lived on a farm, or if your family bred dogs or cats or goats or pigs, did anyone tell you what was going on there?” I asked, encouraging any of them who had witnessed a live birth to write about why they happened to be there to watch.

Writers came back the next week with stories of milking cows on their family farm, moonlighting at a hospital maternity ward, and learning about sex by reading the instruction manual Kotex provided in boxes of tampons. One writer explained how the progressive church she and her husband, a pediatrician, attended had enlisted him to come up with a sex education curriculum for young members. “Our national denomination invited him to be on the task force developing a new sexuality curriculum,” she wrote. “This was a huge focus for him for six years in the 90s.” The woman who wrote the piece is a retired educator, and in the end she and her husband were both involved in piloting the new curricula.

A writer who’d lived in Seattle in the late 1960s read a piece about volunteering to help pass Referendum 20, which legalized abortion in the early months of pregnancy. Fifteen other states had liberalized their abortion laws by that time, but Washington was the first state to do so through a vote of the people. With abortion rights in the news lately, that essay gave us lots to talk about afterwards.

As for the writer who’d suggested “Losing One’s Virginity” as a prompt in the first place? The student didn’t seem to mind at all that I’d broadened the theme a bit.

What can I say? It triggered another topic that was very stimulating.

Interested in starting a memoir-writing class of your own? Check out my Masterclass program.

Chicago friends who read Mondays with Mike this week have been asking what I thought of the inauguration ceremony for our new mayor. Monday was the very first time I have ever attended an inauguration ceremony of any kind, and if they’re all like that one, I’m going again!

That’s my friend Lynn and me at Wintrust Arena Monday.

I hadn’t even thought of attending the inauguration until I got word there’d be an accessibility team involved. I knew then that I’d be able to access the site to order tickets using the speech synthesizer on my laptop. And? It worked! All by myself I ordered two tickets, and soon afterward received that friendly note Mike inserted in his Mondays with Mike post. It may seem like a small thing, but having a team of accessibility volunteers go out of its way to send an email letting us know they are “glad you can join us for the Inauguration Ceremony” is huge.

Any time I attend an event that has any connection to the Chicago Cultural Accessibility Coalition, I bring a sighted friend with me. I suppose that might sound contrarian, but here’s the thing: When people who don’t have disabilities come along and witness how smoothly accessibility can work, many become allies.

So When Mike wasn’t able to go, I invited my friend Lynn LaPlante Allaway. Remember when so many women ran in local elections during the 2018 midterms? Lynn as one of them. In her spare time from being a professional musician and mother of four lively kids, she ran for Chairman of the DuPage County Board in Illinois, and was narrowly defeated by the incumbent. I knew she’d want to celebrate Lori Lightfoot’s win, and she drove in from the suburbs to take me there.

As predicted, parking was difficult. Lynn ended up dropping me and my Seeing Eye dog off at a crosswalk a block away from the entrance. As other drivers sped by in search of available spots, she called out directions. “Cross this street, turn left and it’s about a block down.” Lynn took off then in hopes of finding parking.

Knowing there’d be a member of the Inauguration Accessibility Team waiting at the door helped buoy my confidence. I had no qualms about my Seeing Eye dog getting me there. “We got this, Whitney!”

Whitney guided me around other able-bodied attendees figuring out where they were going, and when a volunteer for the Inaugural Accessibility Team called out “Hello, Beth!” I knew we were at the right place.

An aside here. Some of the work-arounds and methods I use to get around in a sighted world are, well, unconventional. And when you have an obvious disability, the number of awkward reactions you hear in a public spot like this can be deflating. You start apologizing. You feel ashamed. For what? For being who you are?

But no apologies necessary at the inauguration ceremony Monday. The woman who met me at the door introduced herself and guided me to security, and there, another accessibility team member asked if I had any keys or metal on me (I had to temporarily take off my “Lightfoot” election pin!) and explained how security wanted me to lift my arms to be searched.

Once past security, I gave Whitney the “follow” command so we could track a volunteer who was leading us to an elevator. “You want an audio listening device?” another volunteer in the elevator asked. I thought it over a second. It could take an hour or more for Lynn to find a parking spot out there. I could be sitting in the stadium by myself with Whitney for quite a while. If I took one of those audio listening devicess, though, I’d have to get it back to them after the ceremony was over, and I needed to rush then to lead a memoir-writing class in Lincoln Park at 2 p.m. I told them I thought it was great they were offering it, but I’d pass. “Cool,” they said. No judgement.

The elevator dinged, the doors opened, and the volunteer had us follow her to a box seat with enough room at my feet for Whitney to sprawl. “You all set?”“she asked. I nodded yes, she trusted my answer and headed back downstairs to greet other guests. The acoustics were so alive that I thought we were right by the stage. It wasn’t until later that I discovered we were as far back as you could get. I had to laugh –perfect seats for someone who didn’t need to see what was going on!

It did take Lynn quite a while to find a parking spot, and for a mere minute there I wished I’d taken one of the audio description devices. But then I thought better of it. I was enjoying the vibe just as it was. Everyone there wanted to be there. Spirits were high. Some voices had accents, some were youthful, some were weathered. People were greeting each other, happy, proud.

And the live music in the background? Spirited, dramatic, beautiful. Everything from gospel to symphonic to patriotic.

Using the dictation app on my iPhone, I texted with Lynn to let her know the number of the section we’d been seated in. After a half-hour or more she found a parking spot and made it to Whitney and me in our fancy box seats. “Now, that was a journey!” she laughed.

The ceremony opened with Miguel Cervantes, the star of Hamilton, singing the National Anthem and ended with bagpipes leading us back outside. And in-between? Lori Lightfoot was inaugurated, and then, as the new leader of Chicago, Mayor Lightfoot gave her inaugural speech. What a thrill to be there, cheering with the crowd. I was right where I belonged, proud to be a Chicagoan.

Just another conversation at the CCAC.

This morning, Beth attended the inauguration of new Chicago Mayor Lori Lightfoot. To register for the event, she used an online form that was very intentionally and seamlessly accessible to her computer’s screen reading software. In advance of the event, Beth and everyone with disabilities planning to attend received this friendly message:

Hi, everyone!

We’re really glad you can join us for the inauguration ceremony at Wintrust Arena on Monday, May 20. Below, please find more information about the accessibility services that will be in place to make participation as easy as possible.

For general information about the ceremony, including parking and discounted ride share promotions, please visit https://bettertogetherchicago.com/inauguration/.

A favor: if your plans have changed and will no longer be attending, please take a second to reply to this email to let us know so that we can plan accordingly.

Thank you!

The Inauguration Accessibility Team

The message went on to outline details about the location of the accessible entrance and drop-off area, elevators and escalators, courtesy wheelchairs, open captioning, assistive listening devices, audio description, and ASL interpretation.

The message struck a nothing-to-see-here, routine tone. Which is noteworthy, because often, accessibility efforts are clumsy, or self-conscious in a “look at what we’re doing for you!” way.

But things are changing, and one major force behind that change is an organization called the Chicago Cultural Accessibility Consortium(CCAC). (Evan Hatfield and Rachel Arfa have both been with CCAC since it started years ago, and both worked on the accessibility program for Lightfoot’s mayoral inauguration).

CCAC started as a network of like-minded staff members at theaters, museums, and other cultural institutions—they each brought an interest in learning how to help people with disabilities better access their facilities and programs.

What started as an informal network became a 501(c)3 last year. Beth and I attended CCAC’s first formal fund raiser at the Lagunitas Brewery.

Beth has written about touch tours at the Steppenwolf, Goodman, and other theaters. Though they target the visually impaired, I’ve fully enjoyed the tours I’ve attended with Beth. We learn a lot about the behind-the-scenes stuff, and we get an intimate audience with the actors. (My all time favorite was listening to John Mahoney talk about his role.)

Beth has invited friends to some of the touch tours—and a few of them also attended the CCAC fundraiser.

I didn’t know what to expect, but hey, beer! Well, it was delightful. It was a mix of staff from CCAC member institutions, board members, and people like Beth—people with disabilities whom the CCAC has been wise enough to ask questions and listen.

There were wheelchairs, white canes, and sign language interpreters winding throughout the crowd all night. And it all felt very ordinary.

At one point, I began talking with a friend from our building who’s active in the disability community—and she knows ASL. She introduced me to a friend of hers, immediately signing to her friend to introduce me. We started a conversation, and our friend Shannon called for the ASL interpreter who was on duty for the event. He came over and suddenly Shannon and her friend and I conversed naturally, and Shannon didn’t have to interpret my remarks as well as her own.

Eventually we found ourselves in a circle of a half dozen people—among them Beth, Shannon and Shannon’s friend. The interpreter was there, too. And it went off without a hitch.

At one point it dawned on me what was going on there—the blind and the deaf and all that. But what really struck me was how un-extraordinary it felt.

Hats off to everyone involved with CCAC for their ongoing work to make that tableau commonplace.

Two weeks ago I posted about the burgeoning phenomenon of people walking—forward and backward—while glued to their cell phones. Kind of the pedestrian equivalent of texting and driving, and by my lights, nearly as  abhorrent.

I trimmed the post and sent it to the Chicago Tribune, which published it in the Voice of the People section the next day.

I was then contacted via LinkedIn by a producer for the WLS 890 AM morning show and asked, “Willing to take a call about the cell phone piece?” Why not, I thought.

That was before I realized the show is hosted by a notorious shock jock. I almost backed out, but on the advice of my wife, I did not. “It’ll be a good experience,” she said,

And she was right. I didn’t really learn anything new, but the experience did confirm my worst thoughts about these kinds of shows. To start, they called 15 minutes late. Second, when I went on, they did not acknowledge that they had called me, but presented as if I’d called in sort of randomly. I was on all of about 10 seconds, with no context.

The worst part: I had to listen to absolute drek while on hold. No, the worst part, really, is reckoning that lots of people listen to this awful stuff voluntarily every day.

Then again, exploitative media is not limited to radio. My old pal Kevin long ago—when sports call-in shows were still sort of novel—called them Sports Hate Radio. The formula is pretty much the same whether it’s Sports Hate or News Hate or radio, TV, or internet: Poke at the worst fears, biases, and insecurities in people—validate them, throw in freakish stuff here and there, and repeat. It’s pretty much the media version of crack.

Works for shock radio, Sports Hate, cable news, blogs, web sites. It’s all the same. To my right leaning friends: I don’t hate Fox News because of ideology—it’s because it’s this kind of crack dealer. My left-leaning friends: I feel the same way about MSNBC. And CNN.

We are awash in media and information, and also awash in entities that make raw stimulation—provoking anger above all, but also freak show stuff—their business models. It’s hard not to get pulled in (don’t ask me how I know).

We also have fewer and fewer qualified people covering it all in good faith, without an agenda—especially at the local level. (The New Orleans Times Picayune being the latest sad casualty.) That leaves a vacuum that national media machines are happy to fill. So we pay a lot of attention to things far away and far out of our control, and not the things in our own back yards. Again, don’t ask me how I know.

So, if you find yourself with cable news on at all hours, and are constantly aggravated, do yourself a favor and do what Howard Beale did in the movie Network: Just say you’re mad as hell and you’re not going to take it anymore. (You don’t have to throw your TV out the window; there is baseball and Game of Thrones and all. Plus, like Howard, you’ll end up ironically being one of the freakish stories.)

As I’ve written before, I’ve gone cold turkey on cable news—and I highly recommend you do the same. Also, don’t listen to call-in radio. Ignore bumper stickers. Don’t read web sites that just feed your appetite for what you already believe.

Then, I recommend a subscription to The Economist. Read it once a week. Talk to people about what you read and find out what they read and think.

And be sure to drink plenty of water.

You’re welcome.