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!

Missing: 30 million words

As a kid, spending three days with a bunch of schoolteachers would have sounded like the ultimate form of punishment. I guess wisdom really does come with age — when the Illinois Reading Council contacted me last Fall to see if I’d be interested in coming to their annual conference and spend time with thousands of teachers from across the state, I considered it a privilege.

That's me at the SCBWI booth. Whitney's under the table. (Photo by Cheryl May.)

My sisters Cheryl and Marilee accompanied Whitney and me on the trip from Chicago, and when we stepped off the train in Springfield, our driver Brian was there with a sign. “It says your name!” they exclaimed, describing the B-E-T-H F-I-N-K-E in bold lettering. I felt like a star.

The star treatment continued throughout this well-organized and well-attended three-day conference. Award-winning author Esther Hershenhorn had published an extremely flattering post about Hanni and Beth: Safe & Sound just days before the conference started. Attention from Esther’s Teaching Authors blog brought a lot of teachers to the Illinois Society of Childrens Book Authors and Illustrators (SCBWI) booth to meet new Seeing Eye dog Whitney and me. I Brailled out words for the teachers to take home to their students along with a bookmark of the Braille alphabet. I could almost hear the wheels spinning in the teachers heads, conjuring up ways to use Braille to encourage their students back home to read print.

I gave a presentation, enjoyed time with the seven lively teachers at my table as one of the featured guests at the author luncheon, and attended a few sessions, too. Everywhere I went I heard dedicated teachers asking questions, looking for suggestions, sharing ideas, all of them oh so eager to learn tnew techniques and methods to motivate their students.

My Chicago neighbor Margaret MacGregor is one of those dedicated teachers, and so is my sister Marilee Amodt. Margaret teaches in the Chicago Public Schools, and Marilee teaches in the Orlando Public Schools. The two of them teamed up to lead a session about teaching vocabulary to students from lower-income families, and on our train back to Chicago Margaret mentioned how important it is for kids to learn a lot of vocabulary words before they start school.

“Books have a lot of words in them that kids don’t hear spoken out loud,” Margaret said. In fact, children’s books use twice as many words as kids hear

That's Margaret on the left, with Marilee, before their presentation. (Photo by Cheryl May.)

on regular TV. And even, get this, twice as many, like, words, like than, like, college students like, use when they are, like, talking to each other.

Margaret told me about the Hart-Risley Study, which says low-income children hear, on average, 30 million fewer words spoken than their more affluent peers before they turn four. Margaret was not misspeaking, and that is not a typo. I looked it up when we got home. 30 million fewer words.

It seemed particularly fitting to be listening to Margaret and Marilee’s presentation the weekend before Whitney and I head to Hendricks Elementary School on Chicago’s Southside. Hendricks 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 Whitney and talk about being a writer.

I’m looking forward to visiting Hendricks Monday. It’ll be Whitney’s first experience as a Sit Stay Read! dog, and I hope my stories of learning new ways to read and write after losing my sight might encourage the students at Hendricks to keep trying, too.

Puppy love

On Monday morning Whitney and I caught a commuter train to Easter Seals DuPage and the Fox Valley Region to visit the Lily Garden Child Care Center, a preschool and child care program that mixes classes up with kids with and without disabilities. The center is working on a new project this year that features guest authors who come to read to the kids. They thought it would be especially appropriate for me to read from a Braille version of Hanni and Beth: Safe & Sound, and they were right. Our son Gus was in a program like this when he was three and four years old, so I felt right at home with the students. and, hey, I work part-time for Easter Seals, so I’m familiar with the work they do.

I’m the Interactive Community Coordinator at Easter Seals Headquarters in downtown Chicago. That’s a fancy-schmancy title that means I moderate the Easter Seals and Autism Blog. I keep my ear open for articles and events involving autism, then ask spokespeople at Easter Seals affiliates across the country to write blog posts about those things. They email the posts to me, I edit them and add html code, and, presto! Their posts get published on the Easter Seals blog.

Come to think of it, You have Easter Seals to thank — or blame — for this Safe & Sound blog — it was at Easter Seals that I learned to use the blogging tools. I wrote about our trip to the child development center Monday for a post on the Easter Seals and Autism blog — thought you all might like to read an excerpt from that post here, too:

I’m sure some of the kids at the Lily Garden Child Care Center had autism, but truth is, without being able to see them, I couldn’t tell. Some were scared of Whitney, some couldn’t stop petting her, others gave her kisses. Some seemed shy, others went on and on and on and on and on and on about their own dog at home. Which were symptoms of autism, and which were symptoms of … well … childhood? Who knew? All we did know is that something different was happening in the room today, and that we were all having fun.

A big thank you to the folks at Easter Seals DuPage and the Fox Valley Region for inviting Whitney and me out to their child development center on Monday. We had a ball!

A toast to talking books and to libraries

That's the Latter Library on St. Charles Avenue, New Orleans

February is Love Your Library month, and I’m celebrating in style: I’m in New Orleans with Mike and Whitney, and tomorrow morning I’m the guest storyteller at the Milton H. Latter Memorial Branch of the New Orleans Public Library.

I am, and have always been, a huge fan of books and libraries. I am among millions of American kids who remember looking forward to trips to the library for a new stack of books to bring home every week. Flo flushes with embarrassment when she recalls dropping me off at the library one evening before heading to the grocery store, coming home and putting those groceries away, then realizing she’d forgotten to pick me up. “There you were, waiting all that time at the library door with your pile of books!” She says. “I felt terrible!” No reason for Flo to feel bad — I was in seventh heaven! I was so busy flipping through the pages and anticipating which new book I’d start first, I didn’t even realize she was late.

When surgeons told me in 1986 that the eye surgeries hadn’t worked and I’d never see again, one of my first concerns was how I would survive without being able to read. The National Library Service for the Blind and Physically Handicapped (NLS) came to my rescue.

The Library of Congress administers NLS, a talking-book and Braille program available for free to those of us whose low vision, blindness, or physical handicap makes reading regular print difficult. A few years ago Woman’s Day Magazine published an essay I wrote about the talking Book Program, and that essay is still available on the American library Association’s “I Love Libraries” web site.

NLS mails books and magazines in audio and in Braille directly to enrollees at no cost. These days some materials are also available online for download, which means I can keep up with my book club — I’m the only one in the group who can’t see, and thanks to the new digital NLS program I don’t have to wait long to read new releases anymore.

When I was at the Seeing Eye training with Whitney I met a woman who loves — and uses — the talking book program even more than I do. If you watched that short one-minute Seeing Eye promotional video I linked to in a previous post, you saw Karen Keninger — she’s the graduate who gets a little teary-eyed in the video. On our last night of training, Karen and I sat down together over a glass of wine to talk about books and writing. She was heading home to Iowa the next morning (Karen is director of the Iowa Department for the Blind) but then getting on a plane again with her new Seeing Eye dog Jimi the very next day. “I have a job interview in Washington, DC.,” she said to me in a hushed tone, explaining that she was being considered for the position of Director of the National Library Service for the Blind and Physically Handicapped.

The folks at the Library of Congress obviously liked what they saw. Karen got the job. People who can read print may not think much of this position, but to those of us who rely on NLS, this appointment is absolutely huge. I was sworn to secrecy about this new appointment until Karen passed security clearance, and she emailed over the weekend to tell me it’s official.

Karen Keninger was born and raised in Vinton, Iowa, the third of seven children in a happy and lively farming family. She was diagnosed with retinitis pigmentosa as a child and was completely blind by the age of 20. She graduated from Drake University in 1973 with a B.A. in Journalism and went back to school and graduated in 1991 with a masters degree in English. She served as Rehabilitation Consultant with the Iowa Department for the Blind, Program Administrator for the Iowa Library for the Blind and Director of the Iowa Department for the Blind before accepting her new position. In addition to all of that, she raised six, count them, six children!

I could go on and on about Karen Keninger, but hey, this is my last night in New Orleans, and Mike, Whitney and I are heading out to meet friends for one last decadent meal, and we’ll toast to Karen then. What a comfort it is to know that my beloved National Library Service for the Blind and Physically Handicapped will be in such good hands.

Generations united

Check this out: Mrs. Walsh’s first-graders made a book to thank me for visiting their school with Whitney last month.

That

When the book arrived in the mail I knew right away who I’d enlist to read it out loud to me.

A number of the seniors in the Wednesday memoir-writing class I lead are retired Chicago public school teachers; others worked as aides or substitutes. When I pulled the book out of my backpack last Wednesday, these senior writers gathered around as if it were a precious piece of art – which is exactly what it is. They took turns and read every page out loud to me, ooing and ahhing over each drawing and complimenting the kids’ writing skills.

I asked them to choose a favorite page to publish with this blog post, and they were hard-pressed to pick just one. “Oh, I like this one!” one would gush. Others would chime in with their opinions, and when the page was turned to the next masterpiece, the raves would start anew. “Ooo, but I like this one, too!”

During school presentations, I show school kids how Seeing Eye dogs safely lead people like me, who are blind, where we want to go. I talk about Braille, too, and read a bit from the Braille version of my children’s book, Hanni and Beth: Safe & Sound aloud. I tell them how I listen to audio books. I explain how a talking computer works and describe the way I use a screen-reader to read email messages and check out newspaper articles online.

The kids learn I can’t read print. So when teachers ask them to write thank-you notes afterwards, some of them reason they shouldn’t bother – Beth can’t read print, and neither can Whitney!

Truth is, Whitney and I honestly and sincerely do not need to be thanked for visiting classrooms. If anything, we should be thanking the kids — their enthusiasm and curiosity buoys us for days and weeks after each school visit.

But all that said, I gotta admit: I do enjoy hearing what the kids have to say about Whitney and me after we’ve been at their school. Mike has developed a knack for describing crayoned illustrations, and although it is entertaining to hear him read the handmade thank-you notes out loud, I thought I’d give him a break this time. Hearing my senior writers read this book from Warren G. Harding Elementary School in Kenilworth, NJ out loud last week was a special treat.

After much hemming and hawing, the “Me, Myself and I” memoir-writing seniors finally chose, drumroll, please…)

Note to blind blog readers: the picture shows a very long Whitney dog smiling at the camera. She is wearing a harness, and all you see of me is a very, very long arm holding on. The first-grader’s writing reads like this : “I like when the dog was woking the prsin.”

Risky business: Going to the show

Here’s Mike again, with a guest blog.

Beth has written — in her memoir and in blog posts here — about adjustments she and we learned to make to her blindness. For Beth, getting around is the most obvious challenge — how do I get to the post office? There are the basic features of day-to-day life: labeling spices, differentiating between shampoo and conditioner. By no means easy, but there are answers — a guide dog, braille on the spice jars, and a simple rubber band on the conditioner bottle.

If you get a chance, see "Senna."

When it comes to living life together, the question “What do you want to do tonight?” was a bigger problem than we might have predicted. For example, while we had not been avid movie-goers, we did get out to our share in Beth’s sighted days. We saw “Risky Business” in Urbana, and  I remember that we — like the rest of the audience — hooted when Tom Cruise gets his Ivy League rejection letter, grins, and says, “Looks like the University of Illinois.” Before she lost her sight entirely, Beth was undergoing treatment and in a kind of vision limbo — some days good, some days bad, one eye OK, one eye bad, and other permutations. During that period we saw “Purple Rain.” Between what she could make out visually and the music, she enjoyed it as much as I did.

After the lights went out for good, we made a couple of attempts. Looking back they were pretty stupid — “Back to the Future” for example, or a rescreening of “E.T.” on campus. That’s when I learned how long a modern special-effects driven movie can run without a single line of dialog. Minutes, literally, went buy. And they were awful, because it drove home to both of us that this wasn’t going to work anymore. I felt bad and overcompensated by trying to translate in real time what the hell was going on (it was like a bad SNL skit). Beth felt bad that her predicament left us in that spot. Pretty awful. We tried a few more times — largely because we had this feeling that we were supposed to go on with our lives, and not let what had happened stop us.

Well, it certainly didn’t stop us. And we did have to go on with our lives. Just differently. We eventually realized that trying to force things was just dumb, and sure to drive us both into depression or stupid fights. Take vacations: If it’s all about the scenery, I go there myself or with other friends now. That doesn’t mean that Beth couldn’t enjoy the Grand Canyon or Glacier National Park on her own terms. It just means that if we’re going to use the money and time, there are better trips for us to take. Like going to New Orleans, where the food, music, and smells put us on pretty even ground.

As far as movies — after a long layoff we now do go occasionally. Usually, we’re careful to read enough about a prospective film to have confidence that it’s dialog-heavy.  We saw the “Descendants” right after Thanksgiving. (Great performances, but I can’t honestly remember much more about it than that.) Last night, we took a little risk: We went to the Gene Siskel Film Center to see “Senna,” a documentary about the  Brazilian Formula One race driver, Ayrton Senna.

I’d already seen it and was blown away by how much I liked it. I’m a casual race fan; I knew of Ayrton Senna largely because we have a couple friends who are fanatical about racing. Reviews of the movie made it clear that it was just a very well-told story about an enormously charismatic and enigmatic man. And that you didn’t need to know anything about racing to enjoy it. Sure enough, I was mesmerized by the story, which — although it captures the spectacle and intensity of racing — is as much a character study of Senna as it is a glimpse of Formula One racing.

“Senna” is certainly “visual” — all movies are, of course. But much of the story is told by narration by journalists and family members. In other words, I thought Beth might enjoy it. So when some friends of ours told us they were going, Beth — who likes popcorn and a night out as much as the next guy — suggested we go.

It was a mixed bag. While much, or even most of the narration was in English, I’d forgotten that a whole bunch was spoken in Portuguese — and subtitled. Yet other portions were spoken in sub-titled French.

But it wasn’t like the old days. We both made the best of it. I summarized only the most important bits of subtitled narration. Beth’s French is good enough that she actually could follow those passages. The lightly-buttered popcorn was perfect, as were the (all-red) Swedish Fish. Whit curled up at our feet and slept throughout. And we had a great chat with our friends about the movie afterward.

Which is all to say, not everything about getting older is bad. And if you get a chance, go see Senna, it’s well worth it.

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!

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."

Goin’ to the chapel, and…

That's Billy, who's there for all the most important occasions. Or, is it, we're there for all the most important occasions.

My sister Marilee and her daughter Jennifer flew in from Florida over Christmas, and while they were here they met up with Mike and me at Hackney’s. It was pretty cold that day, and bartender Billy Balducci knew exactly how to warm us up. Before the night was over, Jen had asked if I’d officiate her wedding.

That's Brian and Jennifer, the happy couple. Congrats to them, and a shout out to Marilee and Rick Amodt, proud parents of Jennifer.

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.

But hey, time to go. I gotta catch my flight to Orlando!

What kind of work do blind people do?

My Seeing Eye classmates Denise, Marcus, Carlos--and me--and Steve, our trainer.

Jessica and Julia, two grad students from IIT’s Institute of Design, are working on a class project to come up with a product that will help people who are blind. They contacted me as part of their research, and one of the many, many, many questions they asked during an interview was whether there is one career that is common for people who are blind. Truth is, very few people who are blind have jobs at all. From a story in Forbes:

Despite the technical advances made to help blind employees, there is still a staggering unemployment rate among that population. Several organizations, including the American Foundation for the Blind, put it at 70% among people of employment age, a number that has stayed constant for many years.

I know firsthand how difficult it can be to find work if you are blind. That’s one (of many reasons) I’ve been so impressed when I’ve gone to the Seeing Eye to train with a new dog. All three times – first with Pandora, then Hanni, and now Harper — most of my fellow students there were employed. An article in Make It Better magazine puts it this way:

In fact, while 7 of 10 blind individuals are unemployed, 7 of 10 Seeing Eye graduates are working—a huge difference.

Which comes first? Do people who are blind get Seeing Eye dogs, then find work? Or do they find work, then realize they’d benefit from having a Seeing Eye dog? I don’t know the answer to that one, but I thought I might be able to answer Jessica and Julia’s question by telling them about the students I met when I was training with Harper.

Sixteen of us graduated with Seeing Eye dogs last December. The youngest of us was 24 years old, the oldest was 81. One woman had just graduated from massage therapy school, another was a computer programmer for the city of Madison, Wis. One had retired from teaching at a school for the blind, another was teaching blind students in the public schools.  A musician had founded an arts school for urban kids. One man worked for the IRS, one woman was a social media consultant. A number of students were social workers. One woman counseled inmates at a prison, and another social worker worked with Vietnam vets at a VA hospital. “My last dog was a shepherd named ‘Nixon’” he laughed. “No way could I show up at work with a dog with that name!” When he got home, he introduced his dog to others as “Dixon.”

The Seeing Eye divided us into four groups with four different trainers, and I got to know the three others in my group especially well. In our class photo Steve, our trainer, is way over there on the right. He’s the one without a dog – he’s not blind! And then, from left to right are

• Denise and Wonder. Denise was born blind, received her doctorate from University of Wisconsin and speaks fluent French and Spanish. She is a Federal employee and works in Washington, D.C. for the Department of Agriculture.
• Marcus and Garrett. Marcus is a motivational speaker. He had just started college in Missouri and was out with friends, sitting in the passenger seat, when a drunk driver slammed broadside into their car. The accident left Marcus blind. He speaks about alcohol awareness at college campuses all over the country and hopes to attend grad school at Columbia in New York this Fall.
• Carlos and Exon. Carlos is the Technological Services Specialist at the New Jersey Commission for the Blind and moonlights as the overnight switchboard operator at his local VA hospital. He grew up with low vision from retinal problems but attended regular school. “Doctors told me not to play sports or get into fights or I might go blind completely,” he said with a laugh. “You show me a kid growing up in East Orange who doesn’t get into fights!” He went totally blind when he was 17 and told me going to college with a Seeing Eye dog made him a chick magnet. (Marcus concurred.)
• Me and Harper. You know about us.

Blindness affects people from all walks of life, and, when allowed, we do all sorts of work. Last Friday Harper and I took a train to speak at the Wisconsin Vision/O&M Teachers Annual Conference. Their focus this year was on technology, and they asked me to talk about my career in writing and radio. Before my speech I had the privilege of meeting one-on-one with a junior in high school who is blind and can’t decide whether she wants to be a writer or a lawyer. We were just about done with our meeting when an elementary school kid who is blind burst into the room. He’d already written four books, he told us. “I’m going to charge a dollar a page and get rich!” His vision teacher at school taught him to use an accessible personal digital assistant (PDA) with a Braille input keyboard to help him write his books. A quote in that Forbes article from Barry Honig, who is blind and president of Honig International, a Manhattan-based executive search and management consulting firm, says it all.

Honig, the executive recruiter, says the current knowledge-based economy produces exactly the type of jobs blind people are easily able to do. In many cases, it’s a matter of getting the software that enables the computer to “speak” to the user. “With technology today, there is no excuse to not be able to get a job,” he says. “We’re in a unique time for blind people because employees aren’t only laboring with things requiring vision like working with a saw or drill. Most people sit in front of a desk with a computer and a phone.”

Amen.