Monkey business

Here’s my husband Mike Knezovich with a book review.

Sometimes when I’m at an airport, a hotel lobby, walking down a city street, in an elevator, I watch the humans and think: Really, we’re all monkeys.

I learned there is some truth to that glib observation a few years ago when I wrote a freelance article on the work of Dario Maestripieri, professor of

Dario Maestripieri will talk about his book and his work on Thursday, April 19, 6:00 p.m. at Sandmeyer's Bookstore, 714 S. Dearborn in Chicago.

comparative human development, evolutionary biology, neurobiology, and psychiatry at the University of Chicago. Maestripieri has been watching human behavior a long while and sees lots of our behavior as evolutionary strategies and traits – many we still share with other primates.

When I interviewed Dr. Maestripieri, I found out he actually used to live in our building here in the Printers Row neighborhood of Chicago. He rode our elevator every day and watched people give awkward acknowledgements to one another when boarding, then immediately look down, up, at their phone (anything but maintain eye contact); he recognized this behavior as very similar to that of rhesus macaque monkeys when they are in tight quarters.

For a rhesus, baring the teeth and staring are signs of aggression. It’s a leftover in us, too.

That’s one really simple example of a fascinating thesis that’s really well-described in Maestripieri’s new book, Games Primates Play. Those of you who remember the bestseller of yesteryear called Games People Play will understand that Maestripieiri is making a very deliberate play off that title. Where the older book looked at everything from a social point of view, Maestripieiri’s work looks a layer deeper.

Example? Generally, a person walking into a crowded theater will look for a spot that has seats open on both sides. Only if none are available will the person finally plop down arm-to-arm with someone else. A sociologist might say that’s because humans need personal space. In Maestripieri’s research and new book, he asks, “Where does that need come from?”

I’m not doing it justice – I hope you’ll give his book a read and, come down to our favorite neighborhood bookstore, Sandmeyer’s, on Thursday night, April 19. Maestripieri will be giving a short presentation and signing books there at 6 pm. I’m going to do my best to be there with Beth – so come on, join us. After all, monkey see, monkey do.

Do you know what it means…

I asked Mike to give you an account of our most recent trip to New Orleans. Here’s Mike Knezovich:

It’s Fat Tuesday, and only a week ago, we were flying home from New Orleans. It feels like it’s been a long time already.

But I do remember…

We snagged our fair share of beads.

…catching three or four pre-Mardi Gras parades without even trying. And catching a whole lot of beads.

…a breakfast dish at Lüke restaurant called “eggs in a jar.” Two perfectly poached eggs, floating inside a jar on bernaise, with a fried softshell crab for a lid. Whoa.

…chandeliers and chandeliers and chandeliers and tapestries and extravagant crown molding and…chandeliers at our grand old hotel, Le Pavillon. And the hotel bartender, a German-born woman who landed in New Orleans decades ago and has been there since. And the hotel piano player, resplendent in a purple suit, who sang a lot like Nat King Cole.

Eggs in a jar. Can still taste that soft shell crab.

…multiply-pierced and tattooed young people playing old-time traditional jazz on the street. Superbly.

Panorama jazz band at The Spotted Cat.

…a great band at the Spotted Cat that we enjoyed for the price of a one-drink minimum.

…leaving the Spotted Cat, crossing Frenchmen Street to see John Boutte (Down in the Treme´,  just me and my baby…) at DBA.

…Riding the streetcar to the Latter Library, where Beth and Whit held court in front of a terrifyingly energetic group of pre-schoolers.

…dinner at Upperline. Go there.

…gumbo at Herbsaint. Go there.

I found a nice, safe, and quiet spot in the library with wireless while Beth and Whitney regaled the kids.

…a brass band, on our last night, playing just off Canal. They weren’t quite Rebirth Brass band, but they might be soon.

…walking. And walking. And walking. Just enough, the scale tells me, to have balanced off the caloric intake.

…dinner with our friends Seth and Bess, who moved to New Orleans from our Chicago neighborhood almost two years ago now. They are a wonderful young couple, who — it’s somewhat bittersweet to say — are plainly as happy as clams in New Orleans, so much so that it’s hard to imagine them back in Chicago.

So, how was New Orleans?

Sublime.

And I can say, having been there countless times, that while we always leave New Orleans, New Orleans never leaves us.

Practice makes perfect

Last month I published a post about two trips I took to New York City with Whitney during our training. Here’s an excerpt:

I am happy to report that corrections don’t shake her confidence. “Oh, you meant for me to turn into Penn Station, Beth?” she seemed to say once. “Well, then, let’s back up a few steps and do it again, get it right this time.”

Those two NYC trips were part of the “freelance” period of our training: during our last week at the Seeing Eye, instructors expose us to some of the specific things they know we’ll be facing once we return home. The confidence I gained working with Whitney in NYC is coming in handy here in Chicago.

I work part-time for Easter Seals, and their headquarters is located in Willis Tower (the tower formerly known as Sears). Our route to work involves going down steps to the Blue Line El stop (we don’t take the subway, I just use the stop to go under a very busy street), and then coming up the steps on the other side before embarking on a seven-block walk of lefts and rights. Once we get near the entrance of the building, I feel for a dip up and down to indicate we’ve crossed the entrance to a parking garage, suggest left, avoid the revolving door and find the button to open the accessible door instead, and…voila! We’re there!

My husband Mike trailed us on our first trial run to Willis. The next day, Whitney and I did it on our own. Whitney was a trooper, and she handled all the city hustle-bustle with eagerness and confidence.

Whit and I headed back to Willis Tower last Wednesday. A friend met us there to help me teach Whit how to get through security, navigate the lobby, go through the turnstiles, find the elevator, head to Easter Seals reception desk, find my cubicle. We went through the route more than once, and the third time was the charm. “Good girl, Whitney! You got it!”

A lot of temptation for a pooch who likes kids (photo courtesy of The Seeing Eye).

The next challenge: children. I visit a lot of schools with my children’s book Hanni and Beth: Safe & Sound, so while I was still training with Whitney at the Seeing Eye, Jim Kessler (one of the Senior Managers of Instruction) arranged for me to visit his daughter’s elementary school in New Jersey.

The gymnasium was empty when we arrived, and I had Whitney follow Jim to a seat. After I sat down, I commanded Whitney to do the same. “Whitney, down!” She lay down and stayed still. Until the kids marched in, that is. That’s when she started crying.

”Great,” I thought. “She’s not afraid of Penn Station, but she’s afraid of kids!” This did not bode well for my career as a children’s book author. “Rest!” I told Whitney. She whined and sat up. “Whitney, sit!” She stood up and tried to wrangle out of her harness. I panicked. Jim Kessler to the rescue! “Put your finger under her collar,” he suggested, his voice totally calm. “Lift the collar closer to her ears.” It worked. She settled in and lay down at my feet. By the time we got to the Q&A part of my presentation, Whitney was asleep.

I’d assumed Whitney was scared of all those kids crowding her space in the gymnasium, but it turns out she likes kids. The reason she cried in the gym? I wouldn’t let her play! We don’t run across a whole lotta kids in our Chicago neighborhood, but any time we do, Whitney loses focus, turns towards the kid and invites them to play.

Well, I should say, that’s what she did when she first came home with me. Since then I’ve learned to snap a quick “leave it!” any time I hear a kids voice anywhere near us, then snap the leash if Whitney ignores my command and lunges towards them anyway. Whitney is a quick learner. She’s starting to leave kids alone.

I already have a number of presentations scheduled at elementary schools, colleges and conferences in 2012, plus a return to the children’s section of the Milton H. Latter Branch of the New Orleans Public Library in February. Whitney’s first test will come later this month at a disability awareness presentation for thirdsecond graders at Kipling Elementary School in Deerfield, IL. Let’s hope she gets an A.

The truth about Middle Child Syndrome

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!

Her specialty is risotto

That's Laura Martinez of Charlie Trotter's.

Laura Martinez is 26 years old and has always loved to cook. She attended Le Cordon Bleu before accepting a position at Charlie Trotter’s, a five-star restaurant here in Chicago.

And, oh yeah. Laura Martinez just happens to be blind.

In her spare time (!) Laura teaches a cooking class at Friedman Place, a non-profit Supportive Living Community for Chicago adults who are blind and visually impaired. Laura doesn’t live at Friedman Place, but she was there last Thursday when I visited to give a presentation about my writing life. The Friedman Place web site promotes the full range of services and activities they provide “so that residents’ days are healthy, dignified, and stimulating.” While I am confident Laura’s cooking class keeps Friedman Place residents dignified and stimulated, I can’t vouch for the “healthy” bit: she served her signature brownies to residents during my presentation, and the luscious chocolaty treats were downright sinful!

I had a chance to talk with Laura before she skedaddled to her day job, and she told me co-workers on the line at Charlie Trotter’s have become comfortable having her there prepping, cleaning and chopping the food. I asked if she had a specialty. “Well, a lot of vegetarians come to Charlie Trotter’s,” she said,her voice betraying a proud smile. “They like my vegetable risotto.”

Renowned Chicago chef Charlie Trotter first met Laura a few years ago during a visit to the Chicago Lighthouse for the Blind. Laura had been working in the Lighthouse cafeteria kitchen at the time, and it was love at first taste. Charlie is quoted in an article in the Chicago Tribune about Laura:

“I was watching her work and saw how she handled things with her hands, touching for temperature and doneness, and I ate her food and it was quite delicious. We got to talking and she told me about her dreams and I said, ‘What would you think about working at Charlie Trotter’s?’”

Laura was still attending the prestigious Le Cordon Bleu culinary program at the Cooking and Hospitality Institute of Chicago at the time. Charlie Trotter offered to help with her tuition, and Laura has been working for him ever since.

The staff and residents at Friedman Place absolutely gushed over the presentation I gave with Harper last Thursday, so many of them shaking my hand and encouraging me to return with my new dog next year. I am flattered, of course, but I’m not fooling myself: I’m pretty sure they think they’ll get Laura’s brownies again if I come back.

The patron saint of bookstores

One of my table mates was kind enough to help me meet Ann Patchett, and another was good enough to take this photo.

Mike dropped Harper and me off at the Women’s Athletic Club on Michigan Avenue this morning to hear my fellow Bark magazine contributor Ann Patchett give a presentation. It was my first outing alone with Harper since they put that Flintstone cast on my foot, and we made sure to hobble in early. I alerted the strangers who joined us at our table that there was a dog underneath, and one of them lifted the tablecloth to have a look. “Oh, a black lab!” she exclaimed. “How sweet!” It didn’t dawn on me until later: She’d mistaken the behemoth cast on my foot for Harper.

Ann Patchett, the best-selling author of Bel Canto and Truth & Beauty was there to talk about her new book State of Wonder. As her talk came to a close, she let us in on her next project: opening an independent bookstore.

“I live in Nashville, and we don’t have any bookstores,” she said, lamenting that their independent bookstore, Davis-Kidd, went under last December. The Borders store in Nashville closed a few months later. “It’s weird to have a book and not have a place to sell it in your hometown.”

She paired up with former Random House sales rep Karen Hayes in January, and the two of them hope to open Parnassus Books in Nashville before Christmas. Karen will be doing most of the work putting the store together (“She knows which cash registers to buy, stuff like that”). Ann plans to use her author cred to bring attention to her new store, and, in turn, to independent bookstores everywhere. “I heard you all sigh when I said we didn’t have a bookstore in Nashville,” she told us. “And you cheered when I said we were going to open one of our own.” She challenged us all to do our part, too. “Now get out there to your own independent bookstore and buy a book!”

We all had a chance to meet her challenge right away: The Book Stall, an independent bookstore in Winnetka, had copies of State of Wonder on hand. The Wonder-ful strangers at our table teamed up to help me pick up copies for my friends Jenny and Jill, and Ann Patchett couldn’t help but admire Harper as he guided me to the table to have her sign them. The future bookstore owner and I chatted about our work for The Bark and I told her how much I enjoyed the audio version of Truth and Beauty –  she recorded it herself.

She poo-pooed the compliment. “Hope Davis, you know, the actress? She reads this one,” she said, drumming her fingers on the signed hardcover in my hand. “She’s really good.” I’ll have to buy the audio version once it comes out, I guess. You know who I’ll order it from, dontcha? Our local independent bookstore: Sandmeyer’s!

My left foot

I swim laps two or three times each week. Tapping the lane marker with every other stroke keeps me swimming straight, and limiting myself to the crawl stroke means I always have one arm in front of me — my head never bangs the end of the pool. Swimming has always been a safe form of exercise for me. Until last Thursday, that is.

I finished my laps that night and was heading back to the desk to fetch Harper when I slipped and fell back into the pool. My left foot must have gotten caught in the gutter as I took the plunge. It broke. In three places.

Can you tell which foot was broken?

“That cast is huge!” my friend Jenny’s 20-year-old daughter Claire exclaimed while we shared iced tea on their deck late Saturday afternoon. “It looks like the kind of Santa Claus boot we would draw when we were little!” The image made me laugh — one of many laughs I’ve shared with friends and family after my fall. All to explain how it is I am able to sit here and publish this blog post today. You know, rather than curling up in the fetal position in the corner to spend my days whining about my inability to swim or dance or walk or do much of anything until August.

Mike helped me hobble into the car Friday morning and accompanied me to Midwest Orthopedics for the diagnosis — and the cast — that I had dreaded. The first call we made once we got home was to the Seeing Eye so Mike could talk with trainers there about what he could do to help keep Harper on track during my recovery. Doug Bohl from the Seeing Eye encouraged Mike to take Harper on long walks for exercise. “But really, you all should focus on getting Beth’s foot back to normal rather than worry about how Harper will perform once she’s better,” he said, describing one Seeing Eye dog who had to quit working for four months when the person he guided got hurt. “That dog did fine after that. These dogs don’t forget their jobs.”

Mike uses a leash on walks, and the two of them stop at each curb, just like I do when Harper is on harness. Mike follows other Seeing Eye rules, too: dog lovers can’t pet Harper, and Mike doesn’t let Harper lunge or sniff at other dogs during walks, either.

Harper was supposed to lead me to the train to Glen Ellyn for their Bookfest Saturday. My friend Jenny’s husband was working in downtown Chicago Friday and offered to pick Harper and me up and drive us to Flo’s. My sister Cheryl was there waiting with a bottle of wine when we arrived. We shared some wine and laughs with Flo, I stayed overnight and slept like a baby.

Jenny’s sister Jill picked Harper and me up and took us to breakfast near The Bookstore the next morning: Harper’s first ride in a convertible. I hobbled with them to The Bookstore after breakfast and spent the afternoon seated at a table (foot up, per doctor’s orders) visiting with friends, signing books for customers and using my slate & stylus to poke out children’s names in Braille for them as they passed through the store. Bookfest 2011 was a hit.

After the Bookfest, we sat outdoors (my foot elevated, of course) at Jenny’s, sharing iced tea and stories with her and her family. Mike drove in from Chicago and joined us for a while, then helped Harper and me into the car for our ride back home.

Being with Mike and all of these other loving and supportive people the past three days really lifted my spirits. This is only a broken foot, after all. It will heal. And in the meantime, I’ll read books, work on a story assignment from National Geographic School Textbooks, brush Harper, watch White Sox games on TV with Mike, attend lectures, see a few plays (I have tickets for Porgy and Bess at Court Theatre), play fetch with Harper, check my blood sugar levels, get more comfortable using my iPhone, work up some jazz tunes on the piano, sit and share stories with friends, practice my newly-repaired accordion, publish blog posts, write a few books…as Flo would say, “I’d better get cuttin’.” There’s not enough time in a day to accomplish everything I need to do while this cast keeps me off my feet!

Meet Harper in Glen Ellyn this Saturday

Hanni offering Harper a little advice.

Thanks to our friend Jenny Fischer, Harper and I will be signing books from 11:30 am to 2 pm this Saturday, June 18 at Bookfest 2011 in Glen Ellyn, one of Chicago’s western suburbs. Glen Ellyn’s Bookfest 2011is an all-day event for the entire family — lots of authors and activities all over downtown Glen Ellyn, including special events at their Public Library, too.

You might remember my friend Jenny from a post I published here about the independent bookstore she works at – The Bookstore is one of the sponsors of this Saturday’s Bookfest 2011, and that’s where our book signing table will be: The Bookstore, 475 N. Main Street in Glen Ellyn. From the Just the Bookstore blog:

Beth is the author of Hanni and Beth: Safe and Sound, an award-winning book about the love and trust between guide dogs and people who are blind. Beth and her dog Hanni will be at The Bookstore to greet customers and sign copies of her book.

Okay, so it won’t be Hanni doing the signing and greeting in Glen Ellyn — she’s retired from all this book promotion stuff! Harper’s got big paws to fill, but I think he’s up to the challenge. I look forward to showing him off to you all — if you live anywhere near Glen Ellyn please come out and see us anytime between 11:30 am and 2 pm. After that we’re hightailing it to the Glen Ellyn Public Library with Jenny to hear keynote speaker Mary Doria Russell, author of The Sparrow. Glen Ellyn Bookfest 2011 is free and open to the public. For a complete schedule of Bookfest 2011 events throughout Downtown Glen Ellyn this Saturday, link to the Downtown Alliance Website.

Harper’s Tale

Here's the view out our window of set-up day for Printers Row Lit Fest

Poor Harper! He came home from the Seeing Eye to piles of snow here in Chicago and for weeks — even months — after the snow finally melted, it rained. Harper braved the thunder and learned to maneuver us around puddles, and when the sun finally made its debut last Monday I’m sure he thought he was on easy street. But that’s when the semi-trucks arrived.

This weekend is Printers Row Lit Fest, and the semis were loaded with huge tent poles, panels upon panels of tarps, reels of cables and wires and everything else it takes to convert our little neighborhood into a bookworm Bacchanalia. Streets and parking lots close, huge tents spring up in the middle of streets, sidewalks up and down our block are overtaken by hundreds of exhibitors: booksellers, publishers, and literary organizations. Threading me through a sea of book nerds rushing from one author panel to the next is not going to be easy for dear Harper, but today’s guest blog gives me confidence that he’s up to the challenge.

Longtime Chicago Blackhawk fans will understand how guest blogger Michael Vasko got pegged with the nickname “Elmer” in college. ElmerMichael and his wife Donna moved to Arizona after we all graduated from the University of Illinois, and they were nice enough to come to the Phoenix Public Library when Hanni and I did a presentation there.

That’s when I found out that he and I share something besides our nostalgia for Scott Hall parties: ElmerMichael likes to write, too. He’s completed a couple of novels, and he was motivated to write a short piece after reading my blog posts about some of the troubles I’d been having with Harper. “For some reason, right from the start, I was identifying with Harper,” he said. “Newly graduated, thrown out into the real world and it now being time to shine. It resonated.”

Trying Too Hard

by Michael Vasko

So I’m cruising the internet and come across this story about a girl who had hung around exclusively with only other girls up to now but suddenly found herself out with a boy. For the first time. And how the two of them would go out, but how often times the girl couldn’t help but notice the boy acting unlike those before him. She could tell he liked her, but often times he would wind up doing the wrong thing. Often the socially unacceptable thing. But my god, he was cute so the girl would overlook it. But there came a point where she could no longer continue to overlook his little proclivities. She didn’t really want to break up; but come on, get with it, the girl would think.

So the story goes on to say how the girl wondered why the boy acted the way he did; to the point of asking her friends and even delving into the boy’s past. All in an effort to try to learn why her relationship was so different this time. From all her other past relationships. And this effort goes on for some time. And all the while I’m sitting at my desk, reading this story, thinking to myself that I know the answer: HE’S A GUY!

To me, I’m reading a story of a guy out with a girl – and it’s his very first girl at that. And he likes her a lot, and can pretty well tell she likes him too. But then again, what does he really know? He’s new at this. So he’s thinking, I’m pretty sure she likes me, so let’s not screw this up. And so they go out one time, and at the end of their date she says she had a good time and all, but I don’t know, he’s thinking; I think I must have done something wrong. I’ve kinda got an ability to sense these things.

So now the guy gets nervous. And they make a date to go out again. But there’s nothing sadder than a young guy trying to take care of a girl out on a date who is nervous. Now I wasn’t there of course, but I’m reading this story imagining the details; imagining the guy slamming her dress in the car door and then getting all focused on that and forgetting to open the restaurant door for her. And probably making a mess of their actual meal together too. And the harder he would try, the worse things would get; to the point of him thinking that he wishes he had never even gone out with her in the first place.

So I’m reading this story and two thoughts keep going through my mind. The first is: I hope the girl doesn’t give up on this guy. Because of course at first the guy is gonna come off as something less than all those old friends the girl had previously. Because he’s a guy. We’re slow. And easily distracted. And you can tell us to do something and a minute later we’ve forgotten whatever it was you had just said. But it’s not from a lack of trying. If anything, it’s likely we look like goofs because we’re trying too hard. And we’re really not good at doing more than one thing at a time; and new things kind of throw us ’cause we don’t like looking like idiots, which of course guarantees us looking like idiots; and oh by the way, we have no freaking idea how your minds work. But given time, more than you and all those other women can ever guess, we always get there. And we’re always pretty sure we’re worth the wait.

And oh yeah, the second thought was something along the lines of it might help if, in the meantime, in order to help us ultimately get where you want us to be, you provide us with a seemingly unnaturally high level of treats, which has been known to help successfully influence and determine our behaviour.

Hoping for continued success with your new friend,

Michael

Safe & Sound at the Pfister Hotel

The kids were mesmerized, but Harper? Not so much.

I love the Pfister Hotel in Milwaukee. So does Harper. He and I stayed at the Pfister last month when we visited General Mitchell Elementary School in West Allis, and we were there again this week for our visit to Wilson Elementary School. They know us at the Pfister, and our appreciation for the place has become legendary: this week the Pfister Hotel blog published a post called Safe and Sound in our honor. Here’s an excerpt:

Beth talks a mile a minute, with vivacious enthusiasm. She spritely tells me about the reason for her 3-day visit: several speaking engagements, including an entire day at a school just outside Milwaukee. Beth and her seeing eye dog Harper travel to schools to visit with kids and talk about what it’s like being blind.

You know, I was a little perky during my conversation with Stacie Williams, the woman who writes the Pfister Hotel blog. I was pretty excited about being interviewed by someone from my beloved Pfister Hotel, and hey, I’d downed more than my share of coffee to keep up with the students at Wilson Elementary School that day. The kids had asked lots of great questions, and I shared one of the more thoughtful ones with Stacie. “Do you ever forget you’re blind, and then you can see?” I told the little girl yes. “When I go to sleep, I forget I’m blind. I dream in color.” Stacie was appreciative, and she used that little story in her blog post.

Mostly, though, we talked about the Pfister. My Hotel stays are Walter Mitty experiences for me. “Hello, Ms. Finke.” “Welcome back, Ms. Finke.” “May I take your bag, Ms. Finke?” The front desk has keycards waiting for me with one corner clipped off — that way I know which end to put in the key slot. The doorman who walks Harper and me to our room always reminds me how the keypad on the phone works so I’ll know how to call the front desk in an emergency. He sets the radio station to public radio, makes sure the alarm clock is turned off and helps me set up the hotel toiletries. The front desk always arms me with rubber bands to wrap around similarly-shaped bottles to differentiate them from each other — I washed my hair with lotion once, and trust me, you don’t want to do that twice. Once my room is set up, I have Harper lead me down to the lobby. The Pfister Hotel blog quotes me complimenting their piano players:

Last night I went downstairs and had a Lakefront IPA — it’s nice to have local beer on tap — while I listened to Dr. Hollander, who was taking requests. I also love Perry. And, I book my train home after 1 p.m. so I can catch them playing for the lunch hour. They’re just wonderful.”

I’m writing this blog post from my seat on the train ride back to Chicago, matter of fact. Harper is sound asleep at my feet, and I’m considering leaning my seat back to take a
quick nap myself. All day and evening at an elementary school followed by a nightcap at the magical Pfister Hotel piano bar can leave a woman, well…dog tired!