Off Leash with Bark Magazine

Yesterday the editors at Bark Magazine invited me to be a guest on Off Leash, their weekly open-thread real-time chat. I pretended I knew what an open thread real-time chat is and said yes.

They’ve been doing this weekly open thread thing for a while, I guess, but are making one tweak. They want to start inviting special guests to each open thread, and they decided to use me as their “test run” yesterday:

We’ll feature a regular Bark contributor, so readers can drill down on specific topics, such as training, behavior, rescue, activism, animal law and more. Other times, we’ll invite folks we admire to join the conversation.

I’ve never done instant messaging, but I’m guessing my experience yesterday afternoon was kind of what IM is like. Bark fans would comment or ask questions to the thread, and I’d answer in real time. An example from yesterday’s Off Leash thread:

Submitted by Jennifer B on April 27, 2011.
Beth, I’m not blind but I know several people that will be due to degenerative diseases of the eye. How hard was it to learn to trust your dog? I’ve worked as a care aide and done sensitivity training as if I were blind and it is hard to trust a human, that’s why I’m asking. How long did it take you to really put yourself in her paws?
• reply
Submitted by Beth Finke on April 27, 2011.
With my very first Seeing Eye dog I think it took me about a year to trust her. The second dog it only took me three months. I have been with Harper, my third dog, for four months now and find I don’t trust him *completely* yet, but I think that’s b/c I am living in a very busy city now — Chicago — and traffic is more difficult here. So actually, I guess I *do* trust Harper, just don’t trust the traffic!
• reply
Submitted by Lizzi on April 27, 2011.
I’d be interested to hear some more about your challenges in living in Chicago with a guide dog, as I live in Chicago and have a BIL with a guide dog.
And I agree, you should definitely NOT trust the traffic in Chicago. Especially cab drivers. Maybe they should teach guide dogs to recognize cabs and refuse to cross in front of them (only half joking here!).

Sometimes he thinks he's a lap dog.

The timing for this little threading experiment was perfect for me – the Seeing Eye sent out an instructor Monday to give me some techniques to try with Harper. We’ve been at it all week, and after making some progress yesterday afternoon we decided to take a break. While Harper snored at my feet, I “mingled” online.

In exchange for all this, Bark will place an ad for my children’s book Hanni and Beth: Safe & Sound in an upcoming issue. Bark had me write a guest post for their blog Wednesday, too. It’s about what it takes to be a guide dog instructor, a timely topic since Harper and I have spent so much time this past week with the visiting instructor. More on all that in a future post. Now that my open thread real-time mingling is over, I think I’ll join Harper in snoreland. Zzzzzzzzz…

A nude model speaks after the show

We may not have made it onto the Oprah Winfrey Show yesterday, but now you can link to my infamous 2002 After the Show appearance on oprah.com. The clip is called “A Nude Model Speaks After the Show and they describe it like this:

After the cameras stopped rolling in 2002, an audience member stood up to share her story about how she lost her sight, her career and became a nude model. Watch this moment unfold.

You may be relieved to know that I am indeed wearing clothes in the clip. The show that day was about “aging gracefully” and now I wonder…do I look ten years older? You be the judge!

Driving Miss Bethie

Thursday’s show was called “Oprah’s Producers Uncensored, plus Most Memorable Audience Moments.” Chris, the Oprah producer who called me last week, had suggested they use my After the Show comment about my job modeling nude for art students. She called me again after that. And again. And again. She was fact-checking my bio. Confirming details about the books I’d written. Reserving the limo for me.

The limo showed up right on time last Thursday. Our driver was a percussionist from Romania. He had a dreamy voice, but after hearing him scold Harper about sitting on the leather seats, I knew he could be stern if he had to. You know, to protect the celebrities in the back seat.

We chatted all the way to Harpo Studios. Turns out our chauffeur had originally come to America on a music scholarship. I told him about my sister Bev, a percussionist in high school and college. “I grew up with a marimba in the living room,” I said. He was impressed.

Our chauffeur had played all through college, but he said that after graduating he found more gigs driving limos than performing with orchestras. So here he was, 13 years later, driving for the Oprah Show. He gushed about his six-year-old daughter, referring to her as “the love of my life.” Fathers always say their daughters are beautiful, he knew that. “But trust me, she really is. I’m going to have a lot of trouble when she is older,” he laughed. I laughed, too.

When we arrived at Harpo Studios, I fished in my bag for a copy of Safe & Sound to sign for her. “My daughter, she loves dogs,“ he said. I thought he was going to cry. “She is going to love this book.” He opened the car door for us, and Harper and I were escorted to the front of the line.

“Does your dog need a seat?” an audience service staff member asks. “Or does he sit on the floor?” Security officials confiscate the ink pen I’d used to sign the limo driver’s book. They don’t want anyone asking Oprah for autographs. I explain that the other pen in my bag holds insulin. They let me keep it. In the waiting room, a staff member presses a tissue into my palm. “Spit out your gum,” she orders. I do. Before allowing everyone else into the studio, they call a few names for “Pre-boarding.” My name is first. “Beth Fink?” they say. We’re led to aisle seats.

Chris the producer pats me on the shoulder and introduces herself. “May I pet Harper?” she asks. I hesitate. Seeing Eye rules. No petting allowed while your dog is in harness. This is a special occasion, though. I say yes. “Just don’t let anyone else see you doing it,” I warn her with a laugh. “They’ll all want a turn!”

No need to worry. No one is watching Harper. All eyes are glued to the stage. They’re waiting for Oprah to arrive, but a member of the audience department takes the stage instead. “How you all doing today?” she asks. We clap politely. “That doesn’t sound so good!” she says, repeating her question with more volume this time. Audience members react in kind. We clap harder. One woman yells “Woohoo!” Another shouts out, “I love Oprah!” The woman from the audience department is pleased. She rewards us by opening up for questions. The audience responds, confessing Oprah love.

A woman confides the one thing she’s always wanted to do in life is meet Oprah. “And here I am,” she says. “so now I have no regrets.” The audience cheers. Every story after this echoes that same sentiment: Each woman has no regrets now that they are here watching the Oprah Winfrey Show. One woman in the audience finally asks a question. “How many producers work on the show?” The answer is 90.

That is not a typo. I mean 90. The Oprah Show has 90 producers. Nine, then zero. That meant Chris and 89 other producers had each championed a segment for today’s show. We’d been told earlier that the show is 47 minutes long without commercials. Math has never been my forte, but I was pretty sure that 47 divided by 90 was not a good quotient.

The audience interrupts my thoughts. It roars. Screams. Squeals. The volume grows. Louder. And louder. Oprah is on stage. The show begins. A big screen shows the producers favorite clips from shows over the past 25 years. An audience member who’d been fooled into thinking she was getting a makeover, only to be done up in Goth–style instead, comes up on stage to receive an award. A gay man who’d been in the audience during a show on bullying is on the big screen, live from Newport News, Virginia. He tells us that after telling his story on Oprah of beating a fourth-grade bully with his pink Cinderella lunch box, the attacker approached him at a school reunion and apologized. Two guys who’d confessed their love for Mariah Carey during her appearance on the Oprah Show had ended up on stage with Mariah during her next concert. They were in the audience Thursday and came up on stage to read thank you notes to Oprah out loud. The big screen showed clips of Roseanne Barr on Oprah; Oprah on the “Win, Lose, or Draw” game show; Oprah and her best friend Gail enjoying fried corn dogs at the Texas State Fair; Christopher Plummer and the entire cast of Sound Of Music reunited on stage during an Oprah show. Time ticked by. It became painfully obvious. With 90 producers vying for 47 slots, there wasn’t going to be time left for Chris’ favorite.

So I wasn’t on the show.

Before Harper and I left Harpo Studios I was told my After the Show clip from 2001 would be used as a tie-in to Monday’s show, that fans could link to my clip about my job modeling nude for art students on oprah.com. It’s not up yet.

Show over, A staff member escorted us to an alley So Harper could pee. He really needed the break! Our Romanian chauffeur was waiting for us, and this time I did it the Seeing Eye way. I got myself situated, called Harper to jump in and join me. He sat on the floor. “Good boy, Harper!” The limo started towards home, and I asked our chauffeur if he would get to go home and see his daughter after this. “Oh, no,” he said. “This is a very busy day.” Oprah had already taped a show before Harper and I arrived at noon. Fans had been streaming out of Harpo studios when our limo pulled up. They told us Michael Douglas had been the morning guest.

I’m not a gambler, but I betcha that after dropping Harper and me off at harpo Studios at noon, our chauffeur was scheduled to take Michael Douglas to the airport. I’m confident that along the way my new Romanian friend showed Michael this beautiful children’s book he’d just been given. My guess is that as I sit here, ready to hit the “publish” button on this blog post, Michael Douglas is at his local independent bookstore in sunny California, ordering copies of Safe & Sound for his two little kids.

Oprah’s sending a car

A producer from the Oprah Winfrey Show contacted me last week. She wanted to let me know they might use a clip of my 2001 “After the Show” appearance in an upcoming segment.

The show is tentatively titled “More Oprah Producers Most Unforgettable Moments,” and is slated to air Monday, April 25, 2011. “We’re taping the show on Thursday afternoon,” the producer said. “We’ll send a car.”

The clip the producer was referring to is from 2001, when my friend Mim was asked to be on the Oprah Winfrey show. I met Mim when we were both still in college — we were on the same study abroad program in Austria.

Now Mim is Dr. Miriam E. Nelson, author of the Strong Women series of books about the benefits of strength training. Ten years ago Oprah producers asked Mim if she’d come for a show Oprah was doing on the art of aging gracefully.

Mim had never seen an Oprah Show before. Honest. Remember, Mim’s a scientist. A researcher. An academic. She’s usually working when the Oprah Winfrey Show airs. So she asked if I’d come to Harpo Studios to lend some support.

My sister Cheryl came along, too, and when we checked into our room at the Omni (“guests of the Oprah Winfrey Show stay at the Omni Hotel….”) there was a message waiting for us. It was Mim, explaining that she’d just finished watching tapes of old Oprah Shows in her hotel room. “It’s amazing!” she exclaimed. “She’s like a goddess to these women!”

Mim ended up calling Cheryl and me four or five more times that night. Now that she understood how the show worked, she wanted to plant me with things to say from the audience. I didn’t mind being an Oprah patsy. Mim knows me well. I’m a ham. Her new book back then emphasized the emotional benefits of strength training. “If you could get called on and say something about that, it’d be GREAT!”

I never got a chance. Not during the regular show, at least. Oprah’s people screen audience members far in advance. The chosen ones know who they are long before they arrive at Harpo Studios, and they are escorted to special seats in the front rows. Cheryl and I sat in the back. Turned out Mim didn’t need me anyway. After she was introduced, Dr. Miriam E. Nelson gently patted Oprah’s shoulder and said, “You have beautiful arms!” She had Oprah eating out of her hand. The new book sold a ton.

Mim’s Oprah debut included one of those After the Show segments. From Oprah’s Web site:

After select tapings of The Oprah Winfrey Show, Oprah continues the topic with guests and the studio audience in a casual after show.

I was able to give my emotional strength training comment then. You know, After the Show. A year later, when Oprah was on vacation or something, the producers put together an hour-long Best of After the Show segment to air during her regular time slot. My bit after Mim’s show was featured.

Oprah introduces my bit by saying that sometimes her audience members tell the naked truth. The camera goes to me, I tell the audience I lost my sight in 1986. “As far as I’m concerned, I still look the same way I did when I was 26!” I give a suggestion to audience members who have spent the hour fretting over wrinkles and age spots. “Quit looking in the mirror!”The audience laughs. Mim and Oprah do, too. And then I get serious. I tell them I lost my job when I lost my sight, and confess I lost a lot of self-esteem then, too. I tell them a friend read Dr. Nelson’s book out loud to me, that got me started lifting weights (it’s true) and that strength training had given me courage to go out and look for a job again. Then I ask the big question. “Know what I do?” The audience waits at the edge of their seats. “We live in a university town, and I model nude for art students.” The audience howls. Mim is pictured, leaning over, hands just above her knees, laughing. Oprah is incredulous. “Is that really true?” she asks. “Is that a true story?”

It is. I don’t model anymore, though. I quit when my first book, Long Time, No See,was published. We moved to Chicago then, and my writing career took off.

I’m not exactly sure what they’ll do with me during the show tomorrow. I’m not even sure they’ll show my clip during the show. I do know they want Harper and me to be there, though. Just got my reservation from Windy City Limos. Oprah’s sending a car.

PS: Can’t resist, gotta share a paragraph or two from the reservation Windy City Limos emailed to me:

Take to Harpo Studios 1058 W Washington, Chicago for Drop Off
Chauffeur to check in with security. Guests to wait in vehicle. Ch auffeur to escort guests into the studio. Chauffeur to help assis t bringing any luggage into studio (if
applicable).
Chauffeur is ABSOLUTELY NOT to be on his cell phone or text withh te passenger(s) in the vehicle, if the vehicle is out of PARK!!!
Show topics should never be discussed with guests.
Chauffeurs should never discuss who they have transported.
Instructions: Passenger is blind – will have guide dog.

95 on the 95th

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’s gotta go

Hanni met Harper recently and offered some advice.

Four months ago (has it been that long already?) Harper and I returned from Morristown to piles of snow here in Chicago. Poor Harper had never trained in snow, but he was a troopertrouper. He made the adjustment.

Is that why he’s cowering on our walks to the Loop now? Does he miss the snow? Or maybe it’s a delayed reaction to the van that turned right in front of us. The driver didn’t see us crossing, she said. Her van brushed Harper’s face, and he pulled me back from harm so strongly that I fell. My head crashed on the concrete. Maybe that near miss still has him scared. We’ve been traveling a lot lately. Is that confusing him? Can I blame the little snippy dog who nipped the tip of Harper’s ear off in the elevator? Post traumatic stress syndrome?

Harper’s cowering started the day after we returned from the Door County blizzard in Wisconsin. I had a meeting at Willis Tower with my co-workers at Easter Seals Headquarters that morning. Halfway there, along a normal length of sidewalk, Harper crouched to the ground. Wouldn’t budge. Not forward, not backward. After trying everything I could come up with to get Harper to move, I finally accepted help from a stranger. The man walked Harper and me to Franklin Avenue, and when Harper caught sight of the Willis Tower he took off like old times.

On the way home, though, he cowered again. Four different times. Now he cowers on the way to and from the memoir-writing class I teach, on the way to and from the pool I swim at, on the way to and from the train station to visit Flo. We eventually get to all these places, but it’s like driving a car that stalls all the time. It’s miserable. Both for Harper, and for me.

”It really doesn’t matter why he’s acting this way,” the instructor from the Seeing Eye said when I called the training department for help. “he just can’t act like this.” I’ve been back and forth with the Seeing Eye almost every day. They’ve been wonderful, listening to my concerns, giving me ideas to try, suggesting different ways for me to hold the harness and leash to remind Harper I’m back there and I mean business. “And be sure to overdo the praise when he does good,” they said. “Go really over the top.”

On our walk home from teaching the memoir class today, I had no opportunities to praise Harper at all. He didn’t do anything well. Not one thing. I usually put music on and Harper and I dance around with his toys once we make it home safely, but there was no joy in Mudville today. “I don’t want to talk to you,” I told him. I unbuckled his harness, gave him some water and slouched into my office chair to phone the Seeing Eye. Again.

”An instructor is coming out your way at the end of the month,” the trainer on the phone said, asking which days would work best for them to visit Harper and me that week. Before hanging up I told her I’d planned on going to the pool this evening, but now I wasn’t so sure. She urged me to stick with that plan, arming me with another technique to try to encourage Harper.

*******

Hours later.

*******

Just got home from the pool. Never got a chance to use that new technique. Harper didn’t need it. He was perfect. He never balked. Never cowered. He stopped on a dime at every curb. And when I gave the “forward” command? By God, he pulled me forward!

Hmmm. I know Seeing Eye dogs are smart. Think Harper can read my blog posts?

Still not ready to sing na, na, hey, hey,. Goodbye to Nancy

Nancy graciously took time out on her last day to talk with me (and Hanni, of course).

I was out of town for yesterday’s home opener at White Sox park, so I listened to the game on the radio. The fans were loud, the Sox scored right away, Edwin Jackson struck out 13 batters and we won. All great stuff, but I couldn’t help but notice. Something was missing. For the first time in 42 years, legendary White Sox organist Nancy Faust was not playing on opening day. Loyal blog readers might remember the piece I wrote for the Chicago Tribune about Nancy Faust when she retired last year:

 

During one game, I had my Seeing Eye dog Hanni lead me to Nancy’s booth so I could thank her for helping me track

what was happening on the field. Nancy was absolutely lovely in person, and Hanni and I waltzed back to our seats to a pipe organ chorus of “How Much is that Doggie in the Window?”

A reporter interviewed Nancy for an article in yesterday’s Daily Herald about what she’d be doing on her first day off work. Probably watching the game on TV, she said. The story credited Nancy for reinventing the role of a ballpark organist by incorporating rock and pop songs into her repertoire, and gave a shout out to Rollie Hudson (another organist I’ve blogged about here). It also listed some of the clever songs she’d come up with over the years:

• A Whiter Shade of Pale for Henry Blanco
• In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida for player Pete Incaviglia
• I Could Have Danced All Night for Chone Figgins

Don’t get that last one? It’s a reference to Professor Higgins in My Fair Lady, of course. Rhymes with Figgins! My favorite literary reference from the Daily Herald article was this one:

Acquiescing to tastes beyond the literary library of most baseball fans, Faust once followed a fan’s suggestion to welcome Detroit Tiger Brandon Inge with The Hollies’ song “Bus Stop” in reference to the classic work “Bus Stop” by playwright William Inge. The next day, two fans excitedly rushed up to Faust to tell her that connection was brilliant.

“I guess I made three people happy,” Faust says. “The fan who suggested it and those two.”

Make that four happy people, Nancy. You may be retired, but these stories about you continue to make me smile.

Another reason to keep drinking coffee

Tomorrow Harper and I are taking a train to Champaign to give a guest lecture to an animal sciences class at the University of Illinois. I plan on telling the students what it’s been like transitioning to a new Seeing Eye dog, then going over some of the qualifications necessary to become a Seeing Eye trainer/instructor.

Trainers at the Seeing Eye need to have a college degree, and then they can apply for an apprenticeship. While some instructors go right from college into a Seeing Eye apprenticeship, most of the instructors I’ve talked to worked at other jobs before deciding to train dogs. From the Seeing Eye Web site:

Staff instructors are full-time employees who hold college degrees from various fields of study and have successfully completed three years of specialized on-the-job training. They relate well to dogs and people and are physically fit, since their jobs are physically demanding and involve working outdoors in all weather. Some of our current instructors came from teaching, business consulting and rehabilitation fields. Some were in the military and worked with dogs before, and many started out as kennel assistants here at The Seeing Eye.

Steve Newman, the very handsome (from what he told us) man who trained Harper, got his college degree in accounting. He got his CPA, too, and worked as an accountant until he realized he likes working with people more than numbers. He found a job as a headhunter then, but when the economy went sour, so did that career. After that he spent a lot of time at a Starbucks, using his laptop to apply for other jobs.

That’s my little group from our 2010 Seeing Eye class. Steve, our trainer, is the one without the dog.

Turns out that the Starbucks Steve was hanging out at was the very one Seeing Eye trainers use to teach dogs to navigate tight places. Steve was so taken by the string of beautiful dogs coming in and out of the coffee shop that he asked one of the trainers what it took to become an instructor. “I knew I loved dogs,” he said. “And I like working with people, too, so I decided to apply.” During his interview, Steve was warned about the long hours (including some overnights once the students get matched with their new dogs). “I’d worked as an accountant,” he told me with a laugh. “Long hours didn’t scare me.” Steve got the job , passed the three-year apprenticeship, and has been training Seeing Eye dogs ever since. It was my great fortune, and Harper’s, too, that Steve was the one assigned to my group of four last December. He’s a smart man, loves the dogs, is good with all sorts of people and is easy to laugh.

 

When Harper and I arrive in class to talk with those students on Thursday, I’ll be sure to remind them that guide dog instructors don’t just work with dogs. They work with people, too. We blind folks are all different ages, and we have all sorts of different backgrounds and experiences behind us. Some of us are newly blind and still adjusting, others have been blind our entire lives. Although some of us might be easy to work with, a lot of us are brats. We test our teacher’s patience. God knows I tested Steve’s, and he passed! The Puppy Place (a Web site created by a group of volunteers who raise puppies for guide dog schools) says it well:

Guide Dog trainers must work with a variety of dogs within a given size range. A great deal of walking and upper body strength is required to mold hyper young dogs into responsible workers. In the beginning, when working with dogs alone, this may not seem bad, but soon the apprentice must team dog training with people training. You can’t leash correct your blind student, or give him/her a dirty look and expect the undesired behavior or wrong actions to stop. You must verbally communicate while physically managing to keep up with the dog. Coming out of yourself to work with both dogs and people is a special skill and not one to be taken lightly. 

Schools receive literally hundreds of applications a year from people who want to train guide dogs, so even opportunities to become an apprentice are rare. Most guide dog schools do require instructors to do an apprenticeship, and some apprenticeships last as long as four years. From my observation, apprentices work very hard. And from what I hear, salaries are quite low.

I have no idea what people are paid once they pass the apprenticeship and become full-fledged instructors. Considering that guide dog schools are non-profit organizations, I would guess the pay is far below what a lot of today’s college educated people expect to earn. If you’re looking for job satisfaction, though, this kind of work must be pretty dang rewarding!

For general information about working for The Seeing Eye, email jobs@seeingeye.org. That, or just start hanging out at the Starbucks in Morristown.

Not in that neighborhood

Usually when I volunteer to visit a Chicago Public School, a fellow volunteer drives us there. This Monday, though, Harper and I are taking a cab. “We’ll make sure there’s someone at the school waiting to meet you at the door,” the volunteer coordinator told me. “You don’t want to just get dropped off, not in that neighborhood.”

I gotta admit. Her warning scared me. And after I thought about it for a few seconds, my fear turned to sadness. If it’s not safe for Harper and me to step out of a cab in that neighborhood, can it possibly be safe for an eight-year-old to go to school there? Guess we’ll find that out when we meet the second-graders at Manierre School Monday.

Manierre is located right across from the Marshall Field Garden Apartments (a subsidized housing project) and is one of the Chicago Public Schools participating in the Sit Stay Read! (SSR) program I volunteer for. In order for a school to participate in Sit Stay Read!, 95 percent or more of the students enrolled must qualify for the National School Breakfast program. The University of Illinois at Chicago (UIC) Center for Literacy helped Sit Stay Read! design the program to coordinate with school curriculum — it’s meant to improve children’s reading fluency, encourage them to become successful readers, inspire them to explore the world through books, and help them learn to respect people and animals. A Chicago Tribune story by Rick Kogan explains:

SSR’s mission is fueled by sad statistics: On average, a child growing up in a middle-class family will have the benefit of as many as 1,700 hours of one-on-one picture-book reading before he or she enters school, while the child in a low-income family will have 25 hours.

Sit Stay Read! uses dogs and volunteers in all sorts of clever ways: children read aloud to specially trained therapy dogs, human volunteers visit as “book buddies” to help individual kids, and people like me come as guest readers – the books we read to the kids always have something to do with, guess what? Dogs!

Guest readers also teach the kids about possible careers – when members of Chicago’s Lyric Opera visit, they read The Dog Who Sang at the Opera to the kids. Firefighters read Firehouse Dog during visits, and visiting police officers read about police dogs. I was asked to come with Harper and talk about being a writer. I hope my stories of learning new ways to read and write after losing my sight might encourage them to keep trying.

I’m looking forward to visiting Manierre Monday. It’ll be Harper’s first experience as a Sit Stay Read! dog, and I’m confident he’ll guide me safely from the cab to the school’s front door. Visiting other Sit Stay Read! schools with Hanni taught me there’s far more to these neighborhoods than gangs and crime. Kids live there, too. Thoughtful kids. Resourceful kids. Sweet kids.

Thanks to the generosity of my publisher--Blue Marlin Publications--all the kids in the Sit Stay Read programs Hanni and I visited the past few years went home with a free copy of "Hanni and Beth, Safe & Sound."