Safe & Sound blog

This month two of my essays aired on WBEZ-FM. If you missed hearing them on the radio, both are available online – one is about the new governor in New York, and the other is about cab drivers refusing to pick me up with my Seeing Eye dog.

Both of these essays were inspired by blog posts I wrote, and for that I must thank friends from my Chicago writers group. I was very skeptical about starting this blog last year – I thought blogs were self-indulgent wastes of time. Au contraire, said my fellow writers. A blog can encourage a writer to keep at her craft, they told me. “Kinda like a journal, but since it’s out there in public, there’s a chance people might read it,” they explained. “So you work at it a bit harder.” Who knows, my writer friends said, maybe some blog posts could become story ideas.

I may never have written a word about the NY governor or those cab drivers if I wasn’t keeping a blog. So my writer’s group pals were right: keeping a blog isn’t necessarily a waste of time. I’m convinced I’m right about my other claim, though: It’s pretty dang self-indulgent!

If you didn’t hear David Paterson give his first speech as governor of New York yesterday, the full text is available online. But really, rather than reading the text, it’s better to hear the new governor saying the words himself. This link does not include the five minutes of introductions — he introduced at least 25 people. My favorite part of the intros was when he wasn’t sure if one of the people he wanted to introduce was there. I forget the guy’s name, but Paterson simply asked, “Is so-and-so out there?” No one answered, so he went on introducing others. The fact that he couldn’t see if the guy was out there, and he had to ask, was no big deal.

I. Love. It.

Mike and I watched Governor Paterson’s speech on C-SPAN last night. Both of us were literally brought to tears, not only by what Governor Paterson said, but by how he said it: without using notes.

You read it here first: this guy is going to be president someday.

Later on Mike and I were brought to tears again – tears of laughter this time – watching the Daily Show. Special Black Correspondent Larry Wilmore warned those of us who are blind to back off, quit claiming Paterson as our own special victory. Paterson is 100% Black, he reminded us. He’s only 90% Blind.

I am loving all of this. Today I went to Chicago Public Radio to record an essay about Governor Paterson — the essay was loosely based on my “Blind on Long Island” blog post from last week. I’ll post the link to that radio essay once it airs – either tomorrow or Thursday morning.

Earlier this week I revamped that blog I wrote about taxi drivers and sent it to Chicago Public Radio. I recorded it for them Thursday, and it’s scheduled to air in Chicago on March 12 sometime between 9 and 10am. When we were done in the studio Thursday, the first cab to pull up took Hanni and me without a protest.

I was relieved. It would have been way too weird to be denied a ride in a cab after recording an essay about, well, about having been denied a ride in a cab.

“Dearborn and Polk,” I told the driver. He hit the accelerator. Most riders sit quietly in the back of a cab, fidget with papers, glance out the car window. I can’t. And the way I figure, maybe chatter will help drivers feel more comfortable with Hanni and me. Maybe it’ll encourage them to pick up the next human-and-guide-dog team they come across. So I talk.

“How’s business?” I asked. “Fine,” he said. That was it.

Not in the mood for chatter, I guess. Or maybe he was miffed about having a dog in the car? He sure drove fast. I told him so when he stopped the car and said how much I owed him. His speeding worked in my favor — The fare was three dollars cheaper than I paid on the way out.

I gave him a big tip. I mean, the guy wasn’t Mr. Personality, but at least he picked us up. Besides, I like cab drivers to know that people with disabilities can be big tippers.

After uncoiling from the cab, I picked up Hanni’s harness and commanded “Forward!” She brought me to the curb and stopped like always. We crossed the street to her favorite vacant lot, you know, where she “empties.” As I took her harness off, I reached out to the fence there for balance. The fence wasn’t there. “Wow!” I exclaimed to Hanni. “They finally took that stupid fence down!” Hanni did her business, I buckled her harness back on, and we headed north to our apartment.

The sun was out, and the snow was melting. It had been so long since I’d felt the sidewalk at my feet that it felt odd — Not the same cracks and angles I was used to. Hanni’s pace was quick — she seemed to be enjoying guiding me on sidewalks that were clear of snow and ice for a change.

I started listening for Jazz music – it streams from outdoor speakers at the sandwich joint in our building, that’s my cue to tell hanni to turn left and go to our doorway.
All I heard were birds. Hanni kept up her pace, then finally stopped at a curb at the end of the block. It couldn’t be our block, though. I never heard any jazz.

We must have gone the wrong direction when we got out of the cab. It was a nice day – cold, but sunny – and Hanni was enjoying the walk. I decided we’d continue walking. I was sure to hear, or feel, or smell something that would tell me which way to have Hanni take us.

We walked north, and north, and north. It seemed so quiet. No sound of kids from the local college talking on their cell phones, no smells from coffee shops. “Hanni,” I said.”I have a feeling we’re not in Kansas anymore.”

I called out an “excuse me” to the next pair of footsteps I heard. Turns out they belonged to a man named Carl. “I’m a little turned around,” I said. “Can you tell me where we are?” When Carl said we were on Dearborn and Division, I actually laughed out loud.

Division is 20 blocks north of Polk. There had been so many clues to tell me we were far from home – quick ride, cheap fare, missing fence, birds singing, Hanni’s enthusiasm (she always walks faster when we’re in new territory) – but I wanted so badly to be near home that I wouldn’t allow myself to be convinced otherwise. “The cab driver must have thought I said Dearborn and Oak,” I told Carl. (Oak is near Division.)

Carl hailed me another cab and waited while I tucked Hanni’s tail inside. Before he closed the door, he said one last thing: “Thank you for trusting me.”

After posting a blog about using “the visual versus the visualized” when writing stories, I decided to expand the idea and submit it as a radio essay. The essay aired today, on Chicago Public Radio’s “848”show.

Usually the radio essays I do for NPR and Chicago Public Radio go like this: I email them an essay; they say they like the topic. Well, actually, usually they say they don’t like the topic, or they can’t use my essay right now, thanks but no thanks.

When they do* like my essay, though, they email me back with edits and suggestions. I change the wording, we go back and forth a few times, and when everyone is happy I set up a time to cab over to the station to record.

In the studio, a producer sits me in front of a microphone and asks what I had for breakfast that morning. I have no idea why, but when it comes to testing sound levels, public radio producers always ask about breakfast. Even when I did a Story Corps thing with one of the senior citizens in the memoir-writing class I teach, the guy there tested our sound levels by asking us what we had for breakfast. Must be in a public radio guidebook or something.

Breakfast covered, sound levels checked, the producer whips out a written copy of my essay. He reads a few sentences at a time, and I repeat what he’s said. Note: most people read their public radio essays. But that wouldn’t work for me. Although I can indeed read Braille, I’m very slow at it.

Once I’ve repeated all my lines, a producer splices the sentences together, sometimes adding sound effects or music. Voila! When my essay airs on the radio, It sounds like I just sat down and read the whole essay all at once.

The essay that aired today, however, was recorded a little differently. When I sat down in front of the microphone, the producer asked me to tell him what the essay was about.

“You mean you don’t want to know what I had for breakfast?” I asked.

No answer.

So I just started talking. You know, so he could get the sound levels. I went on and on and on about the essay, waiting for him to stop me. He never did.

Finally I stopped myself. “Are you recording all this?” I asked. He was. He did have a printed copy of the essay in front of him, but he didn’t want me to repeat it verbatim. He looked it over as I talked, but only interrupted if he found something I’d forgotten to mention. “Tell me about describing the brigadier general,” he’d say. Or, “What about your interview with Miss America?”

When all was said and done, I said just about everything that had been in the written essay. We got done very, very quickly. I knew the producer would have a lot of work ahead of him –he’d have to take all those pieces I’d said and splice them together into something that made sense, plus add music and sound effects. He assured me he’d enjoy the task.

“Do you always record contributor essays this way?” I asked as he helped Hanni and me outside to catch a cab.

“No,” he said with a laugh. “This is the first time I’ve ever tried anything like this.”

I was extremely pleased to hear the finished product on the radio this morning. It was one of the best essays I’ve ever done for public radio. Or I should say, I sounded wayyyyy more natural in this essay than in any other I’ve recorded. If you’d like, please listen to my essay yourself – I’m interested in hearing what you think of our new method!

Wanna hear what we sound like on the radio? Here’s your chance! Hanni and I were interviewed — not just once, but TWICE — on Chicago radio stations this week.
First, we were on the Betsy and Sal Show on WGN-AM Radio on Sunday, December 16. You might remember Betsy and Sal from my “Walking on Air” blog post. Betsy and Sal are sisters and have a syndicated show on a small station in the Chicago suburbs. For the last two Sundays, however, they broadcast from WGN in Chicago – a kind of “audition” for the big time.
And if you ask me, they passed the audition! They interviewed me over the phone, and the time seemed to fly by.
Unfortunately, Betsy and Sal’s WGN radio show from last Sunday is not available online. The interview Hanni and I did December 18 is available online, though: we were on Chicago Public Radio! I heard the rebroadcast of that show on Tuesday night, and must say: it’s one of the best interviews we’ve ever recorded for radio. I remembered to take my Time, breathe, not rush answers, and most important…I remembered to smile.
I’ve been told it’s good to smile while you are talking on the radio. A smile comes through even when you can’t see the person who is smiling. Even if you are saying something that isn’t exactly funny, you should smile: it engages listeners.
I’ve known that’s true in real life for years, of course. But for some reason it hadn’t occurred to me that a smile would transfer over radio, too. After listening to Tuesday’s broadcast, I’m convinced. We sounded good.
Oh, but please forgive me. I keep saying “we” — I keep talking about how you can hear “us” on the radio. Truth is, hanni doesn’t bark; guide dogs are trained not to bark. Hanni is a public figure, after all — she is highly trained to present herself in a professional manner. She just smiles.

The Children’s Book Council named November 11 to 17 Children’s Book Week, and Hanni and I sure celebrated!
I already blogged about the radio show we were on Tuesday. What I didn’t tell you, though, was the reason Betsy and Sal decided to have us on Walking on Air in the first place: they knew it was children’s book Week!
Turns out we were on TV that day, too! WCIA Channel 3 in Champaign, IL did a special Children’s Book Week feature where they offered reading suggestions. Hanni and Beth: Safe & Sound was right up there with some pretty well-known children’s books:
1) The Three Snow Bears, by Jan Brett (elementary picture book)
2) Knuffle Bunny Too, by Mo Willems (elementary picture book)
3) Hanni and Beth: Safe and Sound, by Beth Finke (non-fiction picture book)
4) Houdini, the Handcuff King, by Jason Lutes & Nick Bertozzi (biography in comic form)
5) The Invention of Hugo Cabret, by Brian Selznick (novel)
Okay, so that was Tuesday. On Wednesday Hanni and I were on the front page of my old hometown paper. If you look at the Elmhurst Press story online, you can link to a video of Hanni and me walking near the Elmhurst train station. As I said in a previous post, “Move Over, Brangelina!” I wonder if fans will start calling us Bethanni?!
Okay, back to earth. Thursday Hanni led me to the doctor’s office so I could get a flu shot. Somehow we managed to even make a doctor’s visit into a Children’s Book Week celebration. The doctor I go to also sees two patients who happen to work on the Oprah Winfrey Show. I left two copies of Safe & Sound with him – he promises to hand them over to the Oprah connections the next time they are in the office. I’ll let you know when Oprah calls.
Hanni and I ended our Children’s Book Week celebration today with a visit to St. Athanasius School in Evanston, IL. I spoke to first and second graders. Of course they are all geniuses – you have to be in order to spell the school’s name!
Tomorrow morning we head off to the Bookstall in Winnetka. My friend Kate has offered to drive Hanni and me there and help us with signing – and pawprinting – books. Good thing Thanksgiving week is coming up – Children’s Book Week has worn us out. We’ll need the break from all this celebrating!

Hanni and I were interviewed on a radio show called “Walking on Air” today. The show’s title turned out to be the theme for the rest of the afternoon.
I checked my email once Hanni and I got home from the radio interview. Dee ding! A message! I opened it. For a moment I thought I was misunderstanding the robotic voice on my talking computer. I hit the keys to listen again, and sure enough:
“The following book has been nominated in the Fiction Picture Books category:

Hanni and Beth: Safe & Sound by Beth Finke and illustrated by Anthony Alex Letourneau

Congratulations on your nomination!”
Yes! It’s true! Safe & sound has been nominated for a CYBIL Woo hoo!
What’s a Cybil? You mean, you don’t know?
Okay, I’ll be honest, neither did I.
I know now, though! The Cybils are a series of book awards selected by a panel of children’s and young adult bloggers, “the only literary contest that combines both the spontaneity of the Web with the thoughtful debate of a book club.”
According to the email message, nominated books will go through two rounds of judging, and the winners will be announced on Valentine’s Day 2008. Stay tuned.
But speaking of being tuned in, our interview on Walking on Air was swell. If you have never heard “Walking on Air,” it’s Syndicated on WLBK, DeKalb, IL; KWPC, Muscatine, IA; WLRB, Macomb, IL; WBYS, Canton, IL; and on WRAM in Galesburg, IL.
If you don’t live near any of those cities you can hear “Walking on Air” streamed live, weekdays from noon to 1 pm (central time).
To hear Hanni and me from today’s show, though, you’ll need to link to the podcast.
The “Walking on Air” hosts are Betsy and Sal. They’re sisters, and the show’s title comes from their uncle. Every morning on his drive to work he passes pairs of women walking together. These women walk every day and never seem at a loss for topics. What, he wondered out loud to his nieces, do these women talk about day after day? Since Betsy and Sally walk together all the time, they know what gets discussed. They are tons of fun, and our half-hour together flew by. I’m still walking on air.