Harper and I head to Madison, Wisconsin today, and one of the things we’ll be doing there is this:

Apart from the conference, Madison is one my favorite destinations.

“The Lindbergh Lectures”
Thursday, September 29
12:00 – 12:50 PM
Room 1106 Mechanical Engineering Building
“Seeing a Bigger Picture”
Beth Finke
NPR commentator, Teacher and Journalist
Author of “Hanni and Beth: Safe & Sound”

Abstract:

Thanks in large part to assistive technology, people like Beth Finke, who are blind, live full, creative and pleasurable lives. But what if AT researchers stretched the boundaries even further? Beth Finke discusses the assistive technology she relies on today and the AT on her “What if?” list.

My “Seeing a Bigger Picture” lecture is free and open to the public. It’s in conjunction with AT Expo 2011 at the University of Wisconsin (also free and open to the public), and I was invited by Jay Martin, the director of the University of Wisconsin’s Assistive Rehabilitation and Technology Design sequence. Jay and I met last year when we appeared on a public radio show about technology that helps people who have disabilities.

Jay walked my (now retired) Seeing Eye dog Hanni and me to the University of Wisconsin Union after our interview, and that walk gave me a chance to ask him one question that didn’t get asked over the radio. “What motivated you to get involved in assistive technology in the first place?“ That’s when he told me about his son’s accident. Liam, now age 27, was paralyzed in a diving accident in 1999. From a University of Wisconsin article:

At the time of Liam’s accident, Martin was director of UW–Madison’s Engine Research Center and had studied internal combustion for nearly 20 years. But upon returning to work after his son left the hospital, he found that disabilities, rather than engines, were constantly on his mind.

Jay talked to a mentor in the engineering department about switching his research focus to assistive technology. A number of his colleagues were interested in doing similar research, and in 2002 the Center for Rehabilitation Engineering and Assistive Technology (UW-CREATe) was born, taking an engineer’s approach to improving the lives of people with disabilities. Again from that UW article:

Today, more than 10 faculty and staff researchers and four times as many undergraduate and graduate students carry out the center’s academic goals of teaching, learning and research.

Jay urged me to come to the AT Expo last year, and I’m sure glad I did. In addition to being exposed to all sorts of new technology, I got to meet his son.

Liam finished high school with his graduating class and went on to receive a degree in psychology from University of Wisconsin. When I met him last year, he was working at a booth at AT Expo as a mentor for Midwest Alliance, an effort to encourage students with disabilities toward careers in science, technology, engineering and math. He noticed me there struggling with my cell phone to call for the hotel shuttle to pick me up. “Would it be easier if we gave you a ride?” he asked. “I’ve gotta go back to my office anyway.” He and his colleague Chris ended up chauffeuring me back to the hotel.

This year I’ll be a bit more high-tech savvy, what with my talking iPhone and all. But if asked, I’ll sure let Chris and Liam chauffeur me home again.

I don't think Imelda had a pair of these in her closet.

A dear friend once told me I look like the Statue of Liberty. He insisted it was a compliment.” You’re statuesque!” he said.

Boy, if he could see me now. My orthopedic shoes have finally arrived, and along with the wide shank for added stability, the soles of both shoes have extra padding. I put them on, and suddenly I’m six feet tall!

These are the only shoes I’m allowed to wear until the end of the month, and I’m not supposed to go barefoot, even in the house. The shoes are cumbersome, but it’s a relief to be out of a cast. Harper seems relieved, too. No more worries about being stepped on by BigFoot.

Our first venture outside with the new shoes was slightly disappointing. No blare of trumpets. Passers by did not burst into song. I’m so tall now that I hold the harness higher, so when I lifted the Harness, Harper had to adjust to a totally different angle . I commanded, “Harper, forward!” and instead of leading me down the sidewalk, Harper took me to a car parked in front of our building.

Poor little guy. For the past eight weeks all I’ve been doing is asking him to guide me to cabs! A verbal correction got Harper back on track, and we were on our way. First stop? Across the street, at Harper’s favorite tree.

The bumps on the wheelchair ramp usually tip me off we’re at the street crossing. I can’t feel the bumps through the three-inch soles on my orthopedic shoes. “Harper, forward!” We cross the street. A dip in the sidewalk used to alert me that we’re crossing the entrance to a parking lot. A mound of dirt around Harper’s tree used to tell me I could take his harness off and give him permission to do his thing. With these thick-soled shoes on, I can’t feel much of anything underfoot. So I just say a quick prayer to the Gods of pee and poop that I’m not allowing Harper to empty somewhere he shouldn’t, then lean down from my six-foot perch to unbuckle his harness. “Park time!”.

Harper circles, and once he stops, I do my best to move my over-protected foot near his tail. I slip a plastic bag over my hand and lean way down (again, from my six-foot perch) to feel through the plastic for lumps near my foot. After picking the lumps up, I flip the clean part of the bag over my palm and throw the bag away. Success!

I’m crossing my fingers that if I follow doctor’s orders and continue wearing the clodhoppers until I return to the ortho clinic August 31, the doc will give me the okay to wear normal shoes again. And if that happens, trust me, I’ll be more than happy to step down from my pedestal!

This Wednesday, April 20, my wise, unpretentious, courageous, empathetic, stubborn, hardworking, appreciative and absolutely gorgeous mother will be 95 years old.

Flo contemplates her 95th birthday dessert on the 95th floor of the John Hancock Building in Chicago.

Although Flo herself would never say this, her life has not been easy. Our father, Ed Finke, died when he was 47 years old. My oldest sister Bobbie is 20 years older than I am, and she was already married by then. The six of us younger ones were still at home. Flo found a job at a nearby bakery that allowed her to bring us little girls along to work on days she couldn’t find a babysitter. Once all of us were enrolled in elementary school, Flo studied, got her GED, and found a job as an office clerk. She worked there 20 years, burned the mortgage on the house, and retired at age 70.

Our father’s early death taught us a lot of things. One of them? Never take birthdays for granted. We’ll be celebrating Flo’s 95th all week long, and we kicked it all off last Saturday morning. My sister Cheryl drove Flo to downtown Chicago, Marilee flew in from Florida, Bev took a train from Michigan, and we all met for brunch at, where else? The 95th Floor of the John Hancock Center. My sisters wisely placed me with my back to the windows. Flo got the spot with a panoramic view of the Chicago skyline, but if you ask me I had the best seat in the house: directly across from the birthday girl.

Flo had never been to the John Hancock Center before. She was absolutely tickled. Our nephew Brian Miller flew back from South Korea that afternoon. His cousin Ben picked him up at O’Hare so he could join Marilee and Bev for a sleepover at their Grandma’s. Marilee had to fly back to Florida Sunday, Bev and Brian will be here until Tuesday, and on Wednesday Harper is guiding me to the train station to take a ride out to Elmhurst. I’ll meet Cheryl and Flo at a wine shop for a toast to the birthday girl. Harper’s work ethic has been improving since I published that last post, and if my sense of joy and exuberance on Flo’s birthday Wednesday wears off on Harper, I know he’ll get us all the way to the train station without balking once. We’ll all toast to that, too!.

Thats Beverle, Cheryl, Flo, Marilee and Moi.

During the car ride home from the Hancock Center Saturday, Flo thanked us over and over again for her big day out. “This sure was a special birthday celebration,” she said, and after pondering that for a moment, she added one last thought. “All of my birthdays have been special.” We agreed. Happy birthday, dear Flo. And many, many more.

Harper and I woke up this morning in beautiful Door County, Wisconsin. My high school friend Jennifer L. Fischer is director of Women and Children’s Services at Ministry Door County Medical Center, and over Thanksgiving last year she had the wonderful, wonderful idea to have Harper and me come “up north” to do some presentations. Once Jenny got the wheels turning, everything fell into place. She’s quoted in a very flattering story in the Door County Advocate about the presentations I’ll be giving this week. The story is titled “Finding Joy through Adversity” and opens like this:

Beth Finke was always the life of the party, and that spirit wasn’t dampened when she lost her sight, says her old schoolmate Jenny Fischer

The story talks about my blindness, of course, but the part I found flattering was the way it described me as, well…a person. More from the story:

She also — because passage of the Americans with Disabilities Act was still five years away — lost her job. She found a few odd jobs — including nude modeling
for a university art class, which led to the career she settled into: writing.

“Staying still so long gave me lots of time to think about my writing, how to reformulate a lead, how to get across a certain idea,” she said. “In fact,
I used that quiet time to put together my very first published essay. I composed it in my head and then typed it into my talking
computer the minute I got home. Nude Modeling: Going In Blind was picked up by Alternet and published in alternative newspapers all over the country.”

The refusal to be held back by her blindness, and the decision to pose for the art class, are examples of why Fischer said one word sums up her old friend.

“She’s fearless,” Fischer said. “She always was.”

We’ll see if I’m fearless enough to let Harper take me for a walk this morning — Door County is a wondrous place, with more shoreline (298 miles of it, according to the Door County official web site) than almost any other county in the continental United States. Harper and I haven’t been for a walk on Chicago’s lakefront this year yet — it’s ben too cold — so today’s walk will be a test. We’ll see if this male yellow lab of mine can resist taking me into the water with him.

In the next two days we’re visiting with students from Sturgeon Bay, Southern Door and Gibraltar middle schools, plus meeting with physical therapists informally at the medical center. I’ll be giving talks to the general public, too. The community events, presented by Ministry Door County Medical Center, are scheduled at 7 p.m. March 22 at Southern Door Community Auditorium in Brussels and 7 p.m. March 23 at Door Community Auditorium in Fish Creek. If Harper and I don’t show up at one of these visits we’ve scheduled for this week, don’t worry. Jenny has a nephew in the Coast Guard.

Sox fans will miss you Nancy, and so will MLB.

My visit to White Sox Park tomorrow is going to be bittersweet. Not because of the team – they actually did better than I expected this year. It’s because of the organist. This is Nancy Faust’s last year at the pipe organ, and tomorrow’s game has been named Faust Fest in honor of her 41 years entertaining fans at White Sox games.
My relationship with Nancy Faust started on another bittersweet day –- the day my eye surgeon told Mike and me that none of the surgeries they tried had worked, From my memoir, Long Time, No See:

The White Sox were in town that day. Going to a ballgame after learning I’d be blind for the rest of my life was probably a strange thing to do, but it beat heading home and sitting on our pitiful second-hand couch and wondering where to turn next.

The White Sox were having a rotten year. There were maybe 8,000 people in the stands. Floyd Banister pitched, the Sox lost. But it was strangely pleasant, sitting next to Mike with my head up, not giving a thought to eyes or surgery. We each had a bratwurst and a beer. Between bites and gulps and giving me play by play, Mike bantered with other fans, cursing the underachievers on the team. I laughed at the tunes selected by Nancy Faust, the Sox organist-she’s famous for picking songs that play on player’s names. Mike marveled at the endurance of Carlton Fisk, and we both wondered out loud why every time we went to a game, that bum Banister was pitching.

I stopped by Nancy Faust’s booth at White Sox Park after Long Time, No See was published to sign a copy for her. She is absolutely lovely. I was tickled to have an opportunity to thank her personally for helping me track what’s happening on the field. When Nancy Faust is at the organ and a player walks, you hear Johnny Cash’s “I Walk the Line.” If there’s a pickoff throw, she plays Michael Jackson’s “Somebody’s Watching me.” And when the pickoff is successful? The Kinks “You Really Got me.”

Nancy helps me know who’s batting by teasing the player’s name with a tune. Mike’s all-time favorite is the one for Gary Disarcina. No, it wasn’t “Gary, Indiana” from the Music Man. That is wayyyy too obvious. It was “Have you Seen Her?” by the Chi-Lites.

As for me, I think Nancy’s at her best whenever Travis Hafner’s in town. At the last Cleveland Indians game I went to, she played “Bunny Hop” for his first at bat, and then J. Geils “Centerfold” “his next time up. And you Yankee fans who read this blog will never understand our sorrow when Jason Giambi ended up in the National League. Nancy Faust used to play the theme from “Pee-Wee’s Playhouse” any time he came to bat. And no, it wasn’t about steroids. Again, wayyy to obvious. Duh. The reason she played Pee Wee’s Playhouse theme song for Giambi? A character on the show is named “Jambi.” Natch!

Some of Nancy’s choices are a lot more obvious –- Dave Brubeck’s “Take Five” for players with that number, the theme from “Magnificent Seven” for players sporting number seven on their backs. Michael Jackson’sBobby Day’s “Rockin’ Robin” bounced from the pipes back when Robin Ventura played third base for us, And we heard a lot of “Jingle Bells” and the disco hit “Ring My Bell” when Albert Bell was on the team. If he struck out? “We’re so sorry, Uncle Albert.”

My upper lip has remained stiff through all the other changes the White Sox have put me through -– new park, new managers, new announcers, new players. That lip is certain to weaken tomorrow during Faust Fest. The one thing that will pull me through without breaking down completely: the White Sox are giving free Nancy Faust bobble-hands dolls to the first 10,000 fans attending tomorrow’s game. Trust me, I’ll be there early.