Picture perfect

Both of the memoir-writing classes I teach are taking time off in June, and one of the last topics I assigned before the break was this: choose a photograph, any photograph, and describe it to me in 500 words or less. “But please don’t say, well, this is a woman in a yellow skirt with a blue blouse standing in front of a doorway,” I said, asking them to consider telling their readers what happened right before the photo was taken, or the reason someone thought to take the photo in the first place. If they decided on a landscape, I suggested they could write about the significance of that building or mountain or whatever.

I don’t usually do the assignments I give my seniors, but when Ellen Sandmeyer emailed this photo from the Sandmeyer’s Bookstore 30th anniversary party last week, I decided to give it a try. While I may be unable to see the photo, I can guess what it might look like. After all, I was there when it was taken! Here’s the photograph:

Whit’s down there, you just can’t see her.

This is me on stage at the Jazz Showcase in Chicago. A gorgeous two-year-old copper-colored Golden Retriever/Labrador cross named Whitney is at my feet, and Charlie Parker has my back.

I’m looking just as stunning as I wanna be, adorned in my belted black Lana Turner shirtwaist dress. The sleeves are turned up to three-quarter length, and the top feels like a man’s classic button down shirt. After that, it’s all woman. The waist is cinched under a fabric belt, and pleats end up draping the skirt right at my knees. From what I’ve been told, this dress picks up light and shines any time I move – oo la la!

If I look happy in this photo, well, that’s because I have a lot to smile about. Earlier that afternoon I’d been surrounded by a dozen-plus of Chicago’s most talented writers, and after that senior-citizen memoir-writing class was over I’d rushed home, gobbled down lunch, grabbed a cab to the Chicago Public Radio studio on Navy Pier, recorded an interview (more on that in a future post), rushed home again, fed Whitney, changed clothes, and after following my clever and courageous dog’s lead down the street to Jazz Showcase, we arrived just in time to be escorted onto the stage to do my thing.

Brent Sandmeyer took this photo from across the bar – he and his brother Rolf had flown in from opposite sides of the country to celebrate their parents and the sensational bookstore they opened here in Printer’s Row 30 years ago. It was an honor and a thrill to be one of the handful of writers and publishers Ulrich and Ellen Sandmeyer chose to speak at their celebration, and while I could have gone on and on about Sandmeyer’s Bookstore, I kept my talk uncharacteristically short: I’d promised myself I wouldn’t have a glass of wine until my talk was over. Cheers!

 

Teacher’s pet

ItalianHandfull left a commentto my previous post saying how touched she was to get an “inside-out” look at a presentation for elementary school kids. That comment inspired me to share this

That’s Erica with me and Whit.

additional point of view from the teacher who arranged our visit to Long Island in the first place.

Erica Bohrer teaches at Daniel Street School in Lindenhurst, NY. Her Erica Bohrer’s First Grade blog shares her secrets for success, and Whitney and I are still beaming after reading the post she published about our visit:

Oh, Whitney! That beautiful, happy, dog stole the show. When I first greeted Beth in the main office to escort her to the small gym, I noticed Whitney looking at me and wagging her tail. Hanni was always all business while wearing her harness. It was so hard for me not to reach down and pet Whitney, but I reminded myself that you don’t pet a service dog while he/she is working.

Good girl, Erica! Ms. Bohrer was a great role model for her students, restraining herself from petting Whitney until the end of the presentation, when I took Whit’s harness off and all the first-graders joined in on the fun.

Erica Bohrer’s post about our visit was extremely flattering, and it was interesting to discover another point of view on Whitney’s goofy behavior :

I guided Beth and Whitney down the hall to the small gym. Inside, the students were seated nicely awaiting Beth’s arrival. Whitney must have been distracted by all the children, because she almost led Beth into the door divider. I intervened, and just as I did, Whitney managed to lick a student’s face! Whitney is no Hanni! Beth informed me that Whitney loves children and that was one thing that would make her lose her focus. Beth did not seem concerned, apparently there is a learning curve for new seeing-eye dogs. Darn, I was ready to say, “you know if Whitney does not work out, I will take her.” Throughout the question and answer session, Whitney rolled on her back with her harness on, chewed on her

The first-graders followed all the rules while Whit was in harness.

leash, and was just hamming it up for the kids. Beth managed to get Whitney back on track, though I think the students preferred her goofball antics.

To read more — and see lots of photos! — I highly encourage you to link to the Erica Bohrer’s First Grade blog. My blog readers who are teachers will find Erica’s blog full of tips and ideas to help your kids learn, and you’ll be taking your advice from an excerpt: Erica Bohrer is the author of 50 Just Right Reading Response Activities and Super Spelling Centers, both published by Scholastic.

Away and back

Kids from Daniel Street School in Lindenhurst, NY.

The first question during the Q&A part of our presentation at Daniel Street School last Monday wasn’t a question at all. “I have an opinion,” the 8-year-old declared.

What? He didn’t think it was fair to make sweet dogs like Whitney work? He thought all dogs should be allowed on planes, not just service dogs? Maybe a solid -colored blouse would have paired better with my outfit than this busy thing I’d chosen?

I quickly thought through some potential responses, then gave him the go-ahead. “Let’s hear it,” I said, taking in a big breath to ready myself.

”I like your dogdowag!” he exclaimed. I had to laugh. Who wouldn’t like Whitney? She had demonstrated her appreciation for this, her first trip to Long Island, before our presentation even started. As the first and second graders gathered in the gym, she flipped over on her back (not easy to do with a harness on) and kicked her legs in glee. She sat still for most of the presentation, but would periodically pirouette. Chew on her leash. Roll on her back. No surprise that a first grader raised his hand later to ask, “How do you keep your dog calm?”

My previous Seeing Eye dogs – Dora, Hanni and Harper – were stars at sitting still underfoot. Whitney, on the other hand, is a star at urban guiding, and for this I am very grateful. But like most city-dwellers, Whitney can’t sit still for long.

”Whitney and I are still getting to know each other,” I said, acknowledging I am not sure yet what works best when I need her to calm down. I’d been sitting in a folding chair while all this was going on, so my first step was simply to stand up and shake the leash a bit. Whitney turned over and stood up, too. “How about I show you what I do when I want her to get me out of a room?”

“Whitney, outside!” She led me past dozens of spellbound first and second graders to a door to the hallway. “Good girl, Whitney!” The kids cheered. We turned around to go back, but before sitting down again, I put Whitney through her daily obedience ritual in front of the kids.

• ”Whitney, sit!” She sat.
• ”Whitney, down!” She plopped to the floor.
• ”Whitney, sit!” She sat back up.
• ”Whitney, heel!” I walked a few steps, Whitney walked alongside me.
• I walked backwards then, and commanded, ”Whitney, come!” She looped around behind me and sat at my side.
• ”Whitney, rest!” I put my palm in front of her nose for a second, then stepped back a few steps. Whitney stayed right where she was until I returned to her side.

“Good girl, Whitney!” She stayed calm for the rest of the presentation. Francine Rich, my award-winning publisher at Blue Marlin Publications, had picked Whitney and me up to deliver us to the school, and she stayed all morning to help with navigation and book signings. Our Urbana friend Sunny moved to Long Island a year-and-a-half ago and generously offered to pick Whitney and me up after our presentation and drive us to the airport. We had some time before our flight, so Sunny wisely suggested we stop along the way at a state park that had a fenced-in tennis court.

The Seeing Eye discourages us from letting our dogs run free in open parks or fields. Sounds cruel to some dog lovers, but just think about it: without being able to see, we can’t keep an eye on them. If a baseball field or a tennis court is totally enclosed, however, we can turn our Seeing Eye dogs loose and let them run. And that’s exactly what Whitney did. After taking some time to smell the length of the fence, she ran. I called her, she raced back towards Sunny and me, then took off again. Run away, dash back. Away and back. Away and back. Away and back.

Our flight home was delayed, and a worn-out Whitney slept underfoot while I sat at the gate noshing on a breakfast bagel sweet Francine had bought for me that morning. A couple approached to say hello and ask about Whitney. “How old is your dog?” When I told them she was only two, they were amazed. “She’s so calm!”

 

Cook, create, celebrate

It’s been a wild week, and I can’t think of a better way to unwind than to meet up with old friends to cook – and eat – together. That’s what Mike and I are doing tonight. We’re taking a hands-on class called “Small Bites, Big Party” with Chef Paul Lindemuth at Marcel’s Culinary Experience. Marcel’s is the culinary retail store and cooking school my friend Jill Foucré opened in Glen Ellyn, Illinois last Fall. Here’s a short description of classes from their web site:

With all classes, in addition to the instruction by our staff of chefs, you get to enjoy the meal that is made, take home the recipes and a grocery list, and take advantage of a 10% discount to the entire store that day. In addition, hands on classes include preparation of the meal, beer and wine (adult classes only), and a Marcel’s apron to take home!

Jill’s sister and brother-in-law just happen to be my friends Jenny and Dean Fischer – they’ll be joining us in the class tonight, along with twelve others who are sure to become our friends, especially after the complimentary beer and wine. Not exactly sure how much I’ll be able to participate in the hands-on cooking part, but trust me, when it comes to taste-testing, I’m an expert!

A photo from Marcel’s grand opening gala. That’s Jill in the middle, flanked by her sister Jenny, and Jenny’s husband Dean.

Jill’s business is named for her paternal grandfather, a French chef and restaurateur who grew up in Tours. I never had the privilege of meeting Marcel Foucré, but I was very fortunate to have known Jenny and Jill’s mother Suzanne. Jill wrote a tribute to her mother for Marcel’s May newsletter and agreed to let me use it with this blog post. I’ll say goodbye here and leave you with Jill’s tribute to her mom for Mother’s day. I’ve gotta dash over to the pool to do laps – Jenny emailed me this morning and said to make sure we come to class hungry!

A note from Jill

As we celebrate our mothers this month and also fully delve into our gardens, not a day goes by that I don’t think of my mom, Susanne. Susanne was the daughter-in-law of Marcel, and that was a tough spot to be in when you were married a few days before your 20th birthday and pretty much didn’t know how to boil water. Having a French chef for a father-in-law made for some tense visits but my mom was never one to back down from a challenge.

She not only learned how to cook beautifully but she knew how to entertain. She threw parties that were the envy of the neighborhood and every detail was attended to – including a guest list that threw the most dynamic people into a room together. She did love a spirited debate! I got my love of cooking from both my father and my mother but my love of entertaining was definitely from Susanne, who couldn’t have enough dishes, tableware, beautiful flowers from her always lush gardens and great food with great company.

It’s sadly ironic that losing my mom in 2009 was one of the things that spurred me on to do something different with my life — she would have loved Marcel’s so much and she would be so happy to see me doing what I love. It has been such a pleasure to meet so many customers who share her passion for bringing people together and creating just the perfect setting for doing so.

All of us at Marcel’s truly enjoy helping you find just the perfect thing whether it is for a weeknight meal for family or a once in a lifetime special occasion. Thank you to all of you who let us into your homes to cook, create, and celebrate. And Happy Mother’s Day, Mom — I couldn’t have done this without you.

 

Happy birthday, dear Sandmeyer’s

That’s the hub of our ‘hood.

Our neighborhood independent bookstore is celebrating its 30th anniversary in style — Sandmeyer’s Bookstore is throwing a party Wednesday night at Jazz Showcase, right down the street. Ulrich and Ellen Sandmeyer wanted a few local authors to speak while Harry and the Hit Men (a terrific cover band they’re flying in from the Bay Area – their son RalphRolf plays guitar and sings vocals) sets up, and I was honored to be asked. Of course I said yes — Sandmeyer’s is one of the things that attracted us to this Printer’s Row neighborhood in the first place.

When Mike and I decided to move to Chicago back in 2003, we looked for a neighborhood that would be friendly, safe, and easy for my Seeing Eye dog Hanni and me to navigate. That’s how we found Printers Row.

Printers Row is a tiny neighborhood in Chicago just south of the Loop. The buildings in our neighborhood were originally used by printing and publishing businesses.
Before electricity, printers used natural light to check their work, so the windows in neighborhood buildings are tall and wide. You know, to let light in. The ceilings are high, too, to accommodate old printing presses. The neighborhood went the wrong way for a long time, and many of the lovely old buildings were marked for demolition in the 70s and 80s. Thanks to some stubborn preservationists, the visionary architect Harry Weese, and pioneering folks who were willing to homestead in Printers Row, the neighborhood was not lost, but found. Two of those homesteaders were the Sandmeyers, who opened their book store long before Printers Row was a sure bet. Today, most of the buildings that were in peril in Printers Row have been converted into residential lofts. There’s always a lot of activity up and down the street, so I feel safe. When I’m walking around with my new Seeing Eye dog Whitney, I feel like people are looking out for me.

Printers Row is close enough to the Loop that Whitney can walk me to my part-time job downtown at Easter Seals Headquarters and the weekly writing class I teach for senior citizens at the Chicago Cultural Center. It also turned out to be the ideal place for an author to promote a book.

Sandmeyer’s displayed copies of my memoir Long Time, No See in the window the day we moved into Printer’s Row, and I have a feeling that half my royalties stem from Ulrich and Ellen Sandmeyer handselling it to the customers who wandered in. Four years later, Ulrich Sandmeyer called me at home the minute copies of “Hanni and Beth: Safe and Sound” landed at the bookstore’s doorstep.

Mike and I ran right down to admire the box load. One book had already sold by the time we got there – a neighbor had seen Ulrich pulling a copy out of the box and insisted on buying it right away.

“There’s not another book like it,” Ulrich said, marveling at the illustrations inside. “It’s going to sell very, very well.” To that end, Ulrich immediately placed one copy of Safe & Sound in the front display window.

As excellent as Ulrich and Ellen are when it comes to promoting local authors, they are even better when it comes to promoting literacy. We have two wise owners cutting through all the hundreds of thousands of titles out there, and thanks to their intelligent ordering, and good reading, we can easily find books at Sandmeyer’s that we really want to read. Happy birthday, dear Sandmeyer’s. And now…let’s dance!

Oy vey, that’s a tough question

Whitney and I did a presentation at the Solomon Schechter Day School in Skokie, IL this morning. The kids were great fun, they were very curious about how Whitney does her job, and how I manage to do all the things I do without being able to see. The hour flew by quickly, and as always, I enjoyed the question-and-answer part the most. Some of my favorite questions:

• Do Seeing Eye dogs poop on the toilet?
• Can your dog read signs, so if a sign says “No Dogs Allowed” does your dog not go there?
• Some dogs can understand lots of words, and some dogs can’t understand many words at all. Does your dog understand every single word we say?

The most difficult question came right at the beginning. The pre-kindergarteners and kindergartners were seated close enough to ask questions before the presentation officially began, and one wanted to know if Whitney was a boy dog or a girl dog. I told them Whitney is a girl, but when we’re out and about most people think she’s a boy dog. “Does she look like a boy, do you think?” Before the student could answer, another one piped up. “How can you tell if it’s a boy or a girl?” I’ll leave it up to you to guess how I answered that one!

Help! I’m lost in the bathroom

There’s Whit ensconced before the gigantic rain rorest shower inside the gigantic bathroom inside my gigantic suite.

There are few things I enjoy more than staying at a fancy hotel  – especially when someone else is paying for it. My bed gets made every morning,, clean towels magically appear in the bathroom, and when I walk through the lobby everyone from the doorman to the people behind the front desk ask if they can help me. Some even call me by my name, a la “Ms. Finke? May I help you to the elevator?” Those of you old enough to appreciate James Thurber will understand why I refer to my hotel stays as Walter Mitty experiences.

My friend Dean Fischer is one of the founders of West Monroe Partners here in Chicago, and when he asked me to give the opening keynote for the firm’s 10th anniversary celebration, I told him I’d be honored. The celebration was at a new hotel less than one mile away from our Chicago condo, but I went ahead and asked for a hotel room anyway. And you know what? West Monroe Partners came through. Big time. And when I say big, I mean big — they arranged for me to have a luxury suite!

The people at the front desk must have been alerted I was coming  –  they had keycards waiting for me with one corner clipped off  –  that way I knew which end to put in the key slot to get into my suite. Dean’s wife (and my high school pal) Jenny Fischer came along as the doorman led us down the hallway to my suite, and the two of us burst out laughing when we got inside. The bathroom was bigger than our bedroom at home! Well, at least one of the bathrooms was. The suite had two.

I usually take Whitney’s harness off her when we get into a hotel room, to you know, give her a break. Hotel rooms are predictable, and I can manage them on my own. Not this hotel room, though. Whitney’s harness stayed on. I never did figure out how to get from my king-sized bed to the door to the hotel’s hallway — I had to pick up Whitney’s harness and give her the “outside” command any time I wanted to leave the room!

But back to my tour of the suite: the doorman  –  his name was Charlie — showed me where the mini-bar was, described the rain forest shower and explained how an infinity tub worked. He told me what button to press on the phone to call the front desk in an emergency. You know, like if I got lost in the suite.

My keynote was at 9 a.m. on the very first day of the conference, but I stayed the entire weekend. Not only because I had such a groovy hotel room, but also because it was such a joy to be around these smart, curious, and extremely young people from West Monroe Partners. The business and technology consulting firm has over 300 employees across North America, and one-third of them are younger than 29. No surprise, then, that Brill Street Named West Monroe Partners one of the 50 most Generation Y friendly companies in the Chicagoland area this year.

Not all of the young people I talked to over the weekend had studied business in college One was a German major, another studied English literature. All of them had spunk, though, and many told me how much they were learning on the job. They weren’t afraid of taking on new responsibilities at work, and boy, did they like to have fun. Example: on Friday night they all went to Johnny’s Ice House in Chicago, where the Canadian employees teamed up against the U.S. employees for a rousing game of hockey. Whitney and I sat that one out. We stayed in the hotel. Oh, and did I tell you we had a luxury suite?

“We’re all pretty Type A,” one of the employees admitted the morning after the hockey game. “And we’re pretty assertive, too.” He was right, I suppose, but there’s a difference between assertive and aggressive. A big difference. These assertive young folks were not shy. They seemed perfectly comfortable approaching me, asking me questions, telling stories, and best of all, sharing laughs.

It was a weekend of first for me, including this one: it was the first time I knew my way around outside the hotel better than inside my room  –  we were right in our neighborhood, I knew the streets, and Whitney and I enjoyed a few nice, long walks together. It was my first time in an infinity tub, too. Whitney was tempted to join me, but I wouldn’t let her. I was afraid she might drown.

Keep your hopes high

When the packet of thank you notes from the fifth graders at St. Mary of the Lake School arrived in the mail, a light bulb went on over my head: take them along to my presentation at Northern Illinois University!

That's us with 4th, 5th, and 6th graders at St. Mary of the Lake

The undergraduates in the class Whitney and I visited last week at NIU are studying to become elementary school teachers, and their children’s literature class is three hours long. After talking to them for the first hour, I bribed them with the letters: I’d give them a ten-minute break if each of them agreed to select a random letter from the pile and read it out loud when they returned. They jumped out of their seats at the opportunity.

The exercise of reading the letters out loud was educational for all of us. I, for one, learned to bring apples with me to future elementary school visits. Let me explain. During the Q&A at St. Mary’s, one of the fifth graders asked how I can use a knife in the kitchen without cutting myself. I knew the kids understood fractions, so I described holding on to the very edge of an apple with one hand while I cut it in half, then holding on to the very edge of the half to cut that into quarters, then eighths. “When I’m done, the pieces aren’t all the same size, but they still taste good!” I laughed, spreading my thumb and forefinger to show that some pieces might be more like thirds, others like teeny-tiny-tenths. “But at least I can say I sliced that apple all by myself.”

Almost every thank-you letter the undergrads read aloud to me mentioned cutting an apple. The future teachers learned how much elementary school children learn when they are exposed to different sorts of people and different ways of doing things. Each college kid seemed to take a sweet sort of pride in the fifth grader whose letter they read aloud, but none could compete with this one, written by a girl named Cindy (the letter is spelled out for screen readers below, also):

The note from Cindy.

To my blind blog readers, the note scanned above reads: Dear Miss Finke, I really enjoyed having you come to our school. It was amazing how you said you would cut the apple. I was also amazed when you said you would go grocery shopping with your husband. Also how you could figure out what things were missing. I was shocked at how you type really fast without making a mistake. This may not be about you, but Whitney is well-trained Seeing Eye dog. You are also a well-coordinated woman. The doctors might have said that there isn’t any cure, but keep on hoping. I tell you this because I passed through surgery, and I’m hoping to get better sooner. Keep your hopes high.

PS: You can check out the guest blog I wrote for The Bark in April to read about the first and second grade classes Whit and I visited at St. Mary’s, too.

Perfection

My niece Jen and her husband Brian are flying in from Orlando later this morning to stay with us over the weekend. You might remember these two from a post I wrote last year when my previous Seeing Eye dog, the heroic Harper, helped me officiate Jen and Brian’s wedding.

Jen and Brian will be married in a civil ceremony today, and I’ll officiate the public ceremony tomorrow. I can read Braille, but I’m so slow at it that if I “read” my lines we’d all still be there Sunday waiting for the part where Brian finally gets to kiss the bride. So I’ve recorded all my lines on a cassette. I plan to have an earpiece in one ear and my finger on the “pause” button. The recorder will read a few sentences at a time, and I’ll repeat what I hear. I am so, so flattered to be asked to do this for Jennifer and Brian, and I could go on and on and on and on here about how terrific it makes me feel that they trust me with this honor.

That's Brian, the happy groom, walking me and Harper to the altar just before the ceremony began.

That wedding went on without a hitch. Jen and Brian are a perfect couple, and their happiness was contagious. The crowd at the reception was lighthearted, loving, and lively. Flo did the chicken dance, and the entire day was, well…perfect.

The visit to Chicago this weekend is a gift from Jen to Brian for his birthday –Brian is a Boston Red Sox fan, and she got him tickets to see them play the White Sox with us this Saturday night.

The game tomorrow will mark just one week since White Sox pitcher Philip Humber pitched a perfect game. There’s been a lot in the news about it — he was put on waivers until the White Sox picked him up, he wasn’t a regular major league starter until just last year – but one important fact has been lost in all the celebration.

The perfect game was played away, in Seattle. I was listening on TV, and the Mariner fans were strikingly quiet after the very last pitch. But as the announcers chatted away, describing Humber’s teammates piling up on him in celebration, I listened closely and heard the crowd slowly swell up in applause.

Those Seattle Mariner fans are one classy bunch. They lost the game, but they witnessed perfection, and they appreciated what they saw. They were a perfect audience.

It is very cold in Chicago this weekend. Our Florida family members will probably have to borrow winter coats and gloves for tomorrow night’s game, but hey – sitting in the stands, watching baseball with people we love? We’ll be perfectly happy. Go Sox!

Observing much ….

Last fall I started teaching a second weekly memoir-writing class for senior citizens. Anna Perlberg is one of the students in that second class at

Anna Nessy Perlberg with her best friend, Brady (photo by Mark Perlberg).

Lincoln Park Village, and it’s been a treat to hear her unveil her stories out loud to us every Thursday.

Anna’s husband Mark Perlberg co-founded the Poetry Center of Chicago and served as its president for 13 years. Anna has spent a lifetime listening to poetry, and she reads her own essays aloud in class with exquisite rhythm and timing. You don’t need to be able to see to know that everyone in class is at the edge of their seats when Anna reads, riveted by her words.

I assigned “Feeling Homesick” as a topic for the Lincoln Park Village class, and Anna showed up the next week with an excerpt from a piece she’d written for the Prairie Schooner, a journal published in cooperation with the University of Nebraska Press and the Creative Writing Program of the University of Nebraska.

Anna was born in Czechoslovakia. Her mother, Julia Nessy, was a lyric soprano and performed widely throughout Europe during the 1920s. Her father studied law and served under Czechoslovakia’s first president. “The young republic prospered,” Anna’s voice sounds like soft velvet when she reads in class. Regal, yet comforting. “It’s first president, Thomas Masaryk, set a tone of high-minded humanism; the economy grew, the arts flourished, and the mix of cultures–Czech, German, and Jewish–made the capital, Prague, a rich center of European life.” Czechoslovakia’s First Republic lasted only twenty years before Hitler’s army invaded, and World War II began.

“Those twenty years were the high point of both my parents’ lives,” Anna tells us.

I liked the excerpt Anna read so much that she surprised me with a copy of the journal the next week. I dug out my old cassette recorder when I got home from class, and Mike sat with me on the couch to read the complete essay out loud. Anna describes herself as a “shy, precocious nine-year-old girl,” when she left home with her parents and two older brothers as Hitler’s army seized Prague in March of 1939. The family took a circuitous, and often hair raising, route to New York City, and Anna’s story details countless friends and complete strangers who helped along the way. “I observed much, though I understood little, as we left one world for another in America.”

Anna’s beloved husband Mark Perlberg died in 2008 of complications from leukemia, and she has spent the years since then gathering his unpublished poems. Mark Perlberg’s posthumous collection, Theater of Memory, will be published by Louisiana State University Press in the fall of 2012, and three previously unpublished poems from Theater of Memory will appear in the spring issue of Prairie Schooner. While you’re at the Prairie Schooner site to read the current issue with Mark Perlberg’s poems, I suggest you order a copy of the Fall, 2010 journal as well. That’s where you’ll find Anna’s complete essay and learn about her amazing journey to America.