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Man's best friends

November 7, 201113 CommentsPosted in Beth Finke, guide dogs, Mike Knezovich, Seeing Eye dogs, Uncategorized

Gonna' miss him, but he's in great hands.

Here’s another post from my husband Mike Knezovich. I’ll be back later this week.

Sunday, for the second time in the last 12 months, I carried the dog bed, toys, and other canine accoutrement to the car to drive Beth’s retired Seeing Eye dog to new digs. Last year it was Hanni headed to Urbana and Steven and Nancy’s. This year it was Harper to Wheaton and Chris and Larry’s.

We had one last shindig with Harper the day before. Steven and Nancy—who are Hanni’s current humans—were kind enough to drive up with her for the retirement party. We made one attempt at a walk together—thinking that Harper might forget his invisible force field and follow Hanni down the block to the park. No luck. Harper has his boundaries and that’s that.

Hanni, however, was in full glory. While Steven, Nancy, and I waited for Beth to meet us with Harper, a CTA bus came to a stop for a red light. The driver opened his window, stuck out his head, and said, “That’s a beautiful dog. Is it a Lab?” We shouted back that it was a Lab-Golden mix. “She’s beautiful,” he said, and then the bus roared north on Dearborn.

We had a great time Saturday and so did the dogs. And the Sunday transition was eased a bit this year because I had company for the trip: Beth. The Seeing Eye encouraged us to take the pressure off Harper as soon as we could; Beth’s not headed to New Jersey to get matched with a new dog until later this month.

Party!

As difficult as letting Hanni go was—after nine years of her being part of our household—this time has been harder, for me at least. With Hanni, things had run their natural course. She’d had a great career, she was slowing down, it was time.

With Harper, if you follow this blog, you know this is different. For one, there’s just the disappointment that we’re going through this again so soon, and that Beth’s going to be gone for nearly three weeks—working like a dog with a dog—in New Jersey. For another, it’s just sad to see Harper go. Things didn’t go as planned, but somehow, in a relatively short time, I grew more attached to Harper than I did Beth’s other dogs.

First, it’s not an exaggeration to say that he saved Beth’s life. Second, when we and the The Seeing Eye concluded that it really was not going to work with Harper, I was free to treat Harper like he was our dog, not Beth’s service animal.

So I was caught by surprise by how sad I was yesterday. A blithering mess. I mean, it’s a DOG right?

But it’s pretty easy to empathize with Harper. Harper was different right from the start. He’s strong as an ox but gentle as a lamb. He’s composed, deliberate, and almost regal. He even walks around the house quietly. As Beth noted, if you hung out with Hanni and Harper off-harness for a while you’d swear he must be the better guide dog. While Harper will gently take a treat from your fingertips, Hanni will just about take your hand off. And she rolls over on her back for a belly rub at the drop of a hat.

Harper’s serious. He’s a worrier—to an extreme I think, and this I absolutely empathize with.

Apart from that, we asked Harper to do very difficult things—he did them—but it ultimately was beyond his limit. The trauma of the near miss with the car aggregated with the daily stress of downtown Chicago got the better of him.

We humans can certainly understand this. And how it takes its toll—we see it in war veterans as Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. We see it in other folks as crippling anxiety, depression, and other mental disorders. Some of it is probably inevitable—life is a struggle. But it seems like we make it harder for each other than maybe we need to. I don’t know.

What I do know is that Harper now lives on a quiet, leafy street in the suburbs, in a lovely brick home decorated in arts & crafts style, with a beautifully tended, fenced back yard. He shares this home with a cat named George and two humans named Chris and Larry.

That's Larry, Chris, and Harper--with his equivalent of a security blanket: a squeak-toy snowman

We met Chris and Larry through our mutual friend Greg (that’s a story in itself for another day). We don’t have a long history with Chris and Larry—when Greg comes to town, we all get together and very much enjoy our time. That’s been about once a year for the last few. The last time was at our place, and that’s when Chris and Larry met Harper.

When it became clear that bringing Harper to France with us in September was just not going to work (he won’t walk a block south from our apartment, so France seemed like a bridge too far), it was Chris and Larry to the rescue. They came and picked up our boy and had a nice time with him.

They also witnessed his behavior—he would not walk more than a block or so from their house before turning around and high-tailing it for home. But they enjoyed Harper, and he enjoyed hanging out in their back yard, discovering squirrels and life outside the city.

Beth and I both thought they’d be great for Harper because it would get him out of the city chaos. Plus, they’d witnessed his behavior, which you sort of have to see to really believe. They’d know what they were taking on.

When Beth asked them whether they’d be interested in adopting him, they asked to think about it for a day. And then said yes.

When we arrived Sunday Harper bolted the car and ran up to Larry and Chris and then headed for the front door. Inside he seemed completely at home.

So did we. Over a bowl of chili we learned a lot about our new friends. Larry joined the army after high school and went to Viet Nam. He eventually re-enlisted in the reserves. That’s where he and Chris met—she’d joined the reserves to help pay for college. Mostly, we learned these are people who have lived full, sometimes challenging lives, and they have a depth of understanding and kindness that makes you feel good when you’re around it.

As our visit wound down, and I woofed a really good piece of pumpkin cheesecake Chris had made, I speculated that Harper, after some time just being a dog, would go on normal walks again. Everyone seconded that hope.

Larry added, “And if he doesn’t, this guy never has to leave the back yard if he doesn’t want to.”

We certainly can make life unnecessarily hard for ourselves and others. But Chris and Larry reminded me of how caring folks can be, how they can ease our way, and how remarkably lucky Beth and I are to have the friends we do. Thank you all.

Be careful out there

November 1, 201121 CommentsPosted in Beth Finke, blindness, guide dogs, radio, Seeing Eye dogs, Uncategorized

There's our boy with me at the park just outside our place. Gonna' miss him, but he'll be happy in peaceful surroundings. (Photo by Mary Ivory)

Harper and I head to the Chicago Public Radio studios on Navy Pier tomorrow to record an essay about his early retirement. Plenty of CTA buses go from our neighborhood to Navy Pier, but ever since my Seeing Eye dog was clipped by a car last Spring, he’s afraid to take me across the street to the bus stop. We’ll be taking a cab.

An organization called Transportation for America reports that a pedestrian in America is hit by a vehicle every seven minutes. Our friend Dean Fischer was one of those statistics – he suffered a major shoulder injury after getting hit from behind while crossing at Jackson in downtown Chicago. Staff at Northwestern’s emergency room told Dean that they take care of seven or eight people a day who’ve been hit by cars.

Cell phones weren’t around back in the dark ages (hmm, in my case I probably oughta refer to them as “light” ages…!) when I was still able to get behind the wheel. I can only imagine how tempting it must be to send a quick text or answer a phone call while on the road. I’m hoping that Harper’s story might encourage drivers to think twice about that, though.

Harper moves to his retirement home this weekend. I dread saying goodbye to him, so I focus instead on the trips we’re taking during our last few days together. We’ll have fun in the Chicago Public Radio studio tomorrow, and if any good can come of my gentle sweet two-year-old Yellow Lab’s early retirement, maybe it will be to convince radio listeners who hear it to put their phones away, keep their eyes on the road and prevent one more two-footed or four-footed creature from getting hurt.

The truth about Middle Child Syndrome

October 28, 201123 CommentsPosted in blindness, book tour, Flo, travel, Uncategorized, visiting libraries, visiting schools
Flo and Cheryl smiling for the camera

Flo and Cheryl smile for the camera

We had such fun with my sister Cheryl on our train ride to visit her daughter Caren and her family in Minnesota last year that she agreed to ride on the Texas Eagle with us to Springfield, Ill. Today.

I’m pretty sure Harper will do alright on this trip (he guides well inside train stations and hotels, it’s walking along sidewalks and crossing intersections that freaks him out) but it is oh so reassuring to know that my big sister Cheryl will be along to guide me, too. Cheryl has always had a way of boosting my confidence, and we always, always have fun together.

I grew up the youngest of seven children. Cheryl is fourth in line, and this explanation of middle child syndrome describes her perfectly:

Many times they go in the opposite direction of their oldest sibling to carve out their own place of achievement and relish in the satisfaction of being capable of doing it on their own. They are sensitive to injustices and much less self-centered than their siblings (first born and last born), which allows them to maintain successful relationships. They are put in the position to learn social skills that are extremely useful, not only within their household, but within their social community.

We were invited to Springfield by the Illinois School Library Media Association (ISLMA) to attend the Author Breakfast at their annual convention. The way I understand it, Illinois authors do a sort of speed-dating thing during breakfast: we sit at one table for a short time to describe our books, then hustle over to the next table for a short time to describe our books, then to the next table and so on. The idea is to make such a good impression on the school librarians that they’ll ask for a “second date” and invite us to their school to do a presentation sometime.

I will not be at all surprised if we get to the hotel tonight and Cheryl recognizes someone she knows in the lobby. Any time I am in a crowd with Cheryl and she sees someone that maybe just kind of sort of looks familiar, she does what any other self-respecting middle child would do: she approaches them and introduces herself. And if they don’t happen to be the people she thought they were, Her warm smile and friendly greeting wins them over, and she’s made a new friend. Its amazing.

And really, Cheryl is amazing. She was a teenager when our dad died, waitressed at Mario’s through high school and helped Flo raise we three younger ones. After she got married, she stayed in Elmhurst, our home town, and her house became a second home to us. She and her husband Rich raised three terrific kids, and now they have ten beautiful grandchildren. Cheryl is Flo’s caretaker, keeping track of her schedule and escorting her to all of her doctor visits.

And with all that going on (or maybe because all of that is going on?!) she’s agreed to this quick getaway with Harper and me, too. The quintessential last born self-centered youngest sister doesn’t say it nearly enough, but I really do appreciate everything Cheryl has done — and continues to do — for me. Once we’re “all aboard” I’m going to have her join Harper and me (and all the people she will recognize or meet!) in the club car for a toast. Here’s to Cheryl, and to all the other middle children I love so much. Cheers!

Energy to burn

October 22, 20113 CommentsPosted in Mike Knezovich, travel, Uncategorized

That's Katrin Klingenberg's Smith House, Urbana.

For the past couple of months, my husband Mike Knezovich has had two full-time jobs. He rose to the occasion after I broke my foot in June, walking Harper, accompanying me to doctor appointments, chauffeuring me to the Chicago Cultural Center so I could teach my memoir classes, running all our many, many errands. He helped me sort through the heartwrenching decision to retire Harper early, and once that decision was made he shepherded me to France to meet up with dear friends. Well, I guess that last part wasn’t really work.

Through all that, Mike was keeping up with his day job for Passive House Institute US (PHIUS), flying to DC to visit potential sites for their annual conference, working with vendors and exhibitors, promoting the event and juggling–with his coworkers–all other sundry things involved with planning a national conference. And now, the Passive House conference is here! It starts this week, and this article in USA Today helps explain what PHIUS is all about:

The passive house movement, popularized in Europe, where thousands of such homes have been built, is starting to catch on in the United States as consumers look to lower their utility bills. These homes don’t require pricey solar panels or wind turbines but focus on old-fashioned building science to reduce energy use by up to 90% less energy. They’re different from the “passive solar” homes of the 1970s, which used a lot of south-facing windows for heating, because they emphasize other features: thick walls and roofs (often at least a foot) and triple-paned windows, as well as efficient appliances and lighting. The secret is tightness, achieved via superior insulation and air sealing. A mechanical system brings in fresh air, heating or cooling it as needed.

Few U.S. homes, only a dozen so far, have obtained certification from the Passive House Institute US, a private Illinois-based group that bases its rules on the German Passivhaus standard.

Well, the number of certified homes is up to 24 now, with dozens more–including commercial buildings–in the pipeline. PHIUS is working to make passive house commonplace in new construction and retrofitted buildings.

When I tell friends about Mike’s work with passive houses, their first question is almost always about the windows. “So you have to keep the windows closed all the time?” The answer is no. When the weather is nice outside, you can still open the windows. But when temperatures are outside the range where you’d be comfortable with the windows open, the idea is to keep the inside of the home comfortable all year long, and the super-insulation means most passive homes don’t need a conventional furnace. The ventilator runs constantly at very low, quiet levels to provide air quality. And the windows–triple-paned in most cases–mean you can sit by one and never know it’s below freezing outside.

Katrin Klingenberg’s Smith House, completed in Urbana, Ill. in 2002, was the very first Passive House built in the United States. Which is appropriate, because fundamental passive house principles were actually developed at  the University of Illinois back in the 70s. Builder Mike Kernagis pitched in on other Passive House projects that were built as affordable housing in partnership with the City of Urbana, and in 2007 Klingenberg and Kernagis founded Passive House Institute US (PHIUS). Since then more Passive House structures have been built in the United States, and more are in the works. And PHIUS has certified more than 200 architects, engineers and builders as Certified Passive House Consultants. You can find consultants here.

The PHIUS conference will take place in Silver Spring, Maryland and includes tours of existing passive house projects and a ton of practical , academic and hands-on advice on how to design and build to the passive house standard–and even a panel of folks who live in these things. You can link here to view the conference’s full schedule, including passive house building tours and pre-conference workshops. You can still sign up for the conference online, but you’d better do it fast — registration closes Tomorrow night, October 23.

And hey, if you go to the conference and you see Mike Knezovich there, do me a favor: pat him on the back for two jobs well done.

On the move, and on the air

October 17, 20117 CommentsPosted in memoir writing, radio, Uncategorized, writing

The memoir-writing class will be there celebrating Wanda’s 90th on Wednesday. Wanda is to my left in the photo (the far right as you look at it).

When I asked Wanda Bridgeforth what she wanted me to bring her for her 90th birthday, she didn’t hesitate. “Harper!” she said. “Bring him to class!”

Wanda is an animal lover. You might remember the beautiful letter she wrote when it came time for Hanni, my Seeing Eye dog, to retire last year. Harper may not be able to handle traffic anymore, but that won’t keep him away on Wednesday. We’ll take a cab.

Wanda joined our memoir-writing class five years ago, and she’s only missed class once in all that time. With her daughter’s help, she self-published On The Move( the first volume of her own memoir) in 2009. Wanda has had a significant hearing loss since childhood, and she sits right next to me during class so she doesn’t miss a word. This turns out to be a privilege for me: I get to hear everything Wanda says, too!

In her 90 years, Wanda has lived in more than 50 different apartments or houses. Her mother was a “domestic” and had to leave Wanda every Sunday to take off and live at the houses she took care of. Wanda lived with one relative one week, a friend the next, and sometimes, with complete strangers. “I tell you, Beth” she said to me once. “I could tell you stories about growing up that would make the hair curl on a bald man’s head.”

A number of Wanda’s hair-raising stories will be included in On The Move, Volume Two, which she hopes to have out by this Christmas.

And speaking of 90-year-olds with published memoirs, if you happen to have missed Hanna Bratman’s interview on Chicago’s WGN Radio Sunday morning, never fear: you can download the interview from Rick Kogan’s web site. Rick Kogan introduced her on air as his “favorite new writer,” and said she was “a natural” on the radio. And once the microphones were off? He whispered to me, “She’s a doll!” I wouldn’t be surprised if he asks her back. And next time, we’ll bring fellow nonagenarian memoirist Wanda Bridgeforth along, too.