Love your library, love your librarians

Reports of libraries' demise have been greatly exaggerated (that's Chicago's Harold Washington Library, a few blocks from my home)

And now, some updates on librarians I admire who are marking the end of “Love Your Library” month by making big transitions.

• Karen Keninger. Karen is my fellow Seeing Eye graduate who is leaving her position as director of the Iowa Department for the Blind to become Director of the National Library Service for the Blind and Physically Handicapped. Karen is moving away from her familiar farm home in Iowa to take the new job. She is deciding between settling in a quiet place on the Metro line far enough away to escape busy DC, or embracing the urban environment and renting an apartment near her office. I have moved many times since losing my sight, but always under the guiding eyes of my husband Mike Knezovich. Karen is moving alone. Well, not completely alone – she’ll have her new Seeing Eye dog Jimi at her side. She wrote to say she’d be staying with friends in a Virginia suburb for a few weeks. “That way I can get my feet under me and figure out where I want to rent at first.” New job. New home. New town. New dog. New environment. New responsibilities. I admire Karen’s courage, and her dedication to the library service she loves.
• Mary Dempsey. With the city of Chicago’s entire public library system in transition, Mayor Rahm Emanuel is replacing longtime Library Commissioner Mary Dempsey with a technology-focused administrator from the San Francisco library system. Mary Dempsey holds a Master’s degree in library and Information Science from my alma mater, the University of Illinois, and it was a boost to my journalism confidence when editors at the Illinois alumni magazine asked me to interview her for a profile in 2001. Mary Dempsey oversaw the construction of dozens of new libraries during her tenure, but the Chicago Sun times reports that the 37-year-old technology guru who is replaicing her says it’s time to “re-envision what libraries look like, both in the physical space as well as in the digital space.”
• Stephanie Burke Bellucci. My young New Jersey friend Steph left her job as Library Director at the North Arlington Free Public Library this month to accept a position as Library Director at the Cliffside Park Free Public Library. Stephanie went to high school in Cliffside Park and is delighted to have the opportunity to
  Work for a library that has the familiarity of home.

When I told Stephanie I planned on publishing a post about Mary Dempsey being replaced by a technology guru, she told me that friends used to ask her if being a library director meant she got to read all day long. “Now they’re asking something even sillier,” she said. “They want to know if we still really need libraries.” Stephanie is not even 30 years old yet, and a lot of her personal philosophy about her vocation has to do with staying up to date with the most current technologies. She feels even more strongly about the importance of libraries as the cultural and social centers of their communities. “Just think about it,” she said. “Libraries offer help to job seekers, free internet access, story times, book clubs, discussion groups, author visits, free lectures and on and on. Libraries are much, much more than the books on their shelves.”

The American Library Association reports that library usage is up in the United States. “So how do I answer that silly question about whether or not we still need libraries?” Stephanie says. “With a resounding YES!”

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.

Seeing a bigger picture

Harper and I head to Madison, Wisconsin today, and one of the things we’ll be doing there is this:

Apart from the conference, Madison is one my favorite destinations.

“The Lindbergh Lectures”
Thursday, September 29
12:00 – 12:50 PM
Room 1106 Mechanical Engineering Building
“Seeing a Bigger Picture”
Beth Finke
NPR commentator, Teacher and Journalist
Author of “Hanni and Beth: Safe & Sound”

Abstract:

Thanks in large part to assistive technology, people like Beth Finke, who are blind, live full, creative and pleasurable lives. But what if AT researchers stretched the boundaries even further? Beth Finke discusses the assistive technology she relies on today and the AT on her “What if?” list.

My “Seeing a Bigger Picture” lecture is free and open to the public. It’s in conjunction with AT Expo 2011 at the University of Wisconsin (also free and open to the public), and I was invited by Jay Martin, the director of the University of Wisconsin’s Assistive Rehabilitation and Technology Design sequence. Jay and I met last year when we appeared on a public radio show about technology that helps people who have disabilities.

Jay walked my (now retired) Seeing Eye dog Hanni and me to the University of Wisconsin Union after our interview, and that walk gave me a chance to ask him one question that didn’t get asked over the radio. “What motivated you to get involved in assistive technology in the first place?“ That’s when he told me about his son’s accident. Liam, now age 27, was paralyzed in a diving accident in 1999. From a University of Wisconsin article:

At the time of Liam’s accident, Martin was director of UW–Madison’s Engine Research Center and had studied internal combustion for nearly 20 years. But upon returning to work after his son left the hospital, he found that disabilities, rather than engines, were constantly on his mind.

Jay talked to a mentor in the engineering department about switching his research focus to assistive technology. A number of his colleagues were interested in doing similar research, and in 2002 the Center for Rehabilitation Engineering and Assistive Technology (UW-CREATe) was born, taking an engineer’s approach to improving the lives of people with disabilities. Again from that UW article:

Today, more than 10 faculty and staff researchers and four times as many undergraduate and graduate students carry out the center’s academic goals of teaching, learning and research.

Jay urged me to come to the AT Expo last year, and I’m sure glad I did. In addition to being exposed to all sorts of new technology, I got to meet his son.

Liam finished high school with his graduating class and went on to receive a degree in psychology from University of Wisconsin. When I met him last year, he was working at a booth at AT Expo as a mentor for Midwest Alliance, an effort to encourage students with disabilities toward careers in science, technology, engineering and math. He noticed me there struggling with my cell phone to call for the hotel shuttle to pick me up. “Would it be easier if we gave you a ride?” he asked. “I’ve gotta go back to my office anyway.” He and his colleague Chris ended up chauffeuring me back to the hotel.

This year I’ll be a bit more high-tech savvy, what with my talking iPhone and all. But if asked, I’ll sure let Chris and Liam chauffeur me home again.

Life Itself

The great Roger Ebert.

Roger Ebert’s memoir Life Itself comes out today, and I’m eager to read it. From what I’ve heard, he writes a lot about his middle-class Midwestern upbringing in Urbana, Ill., a place Mike and I were proud to call home for many, many years, and the town where our son Gus was born. Ebert was born in Urbana in 1942. Early reviews say he glows about his dad, an electrician at the University of Illinois, in his book.

You might remember me glowing about Roger Ebert in a post I wrote when he was given an award from Access Living, a disability advocacy organization here in Chicago. Access Living’s Lead On award “recognizes national leaders who have helped reframe the understanding of people with disabilities and who have helped to remove the barriers–physical and attitudinal–that exclude people with disabilities from career pursuits and everyday life.”

Roger Ebert represents the very embodiment of what the award stands for. Thyroid cancer has left him unable to speak. He has no lower jaw, and friends tell me his face can be difficult to look at. Others might stay inside, slow down, retire. Not Roger. He just keeps on doing the work he loves–reviewing movies, blogging, attending film festivals and continuing to manage his own festival, too.

I pretty much gave up on movies after I lost my sight. Until Roger Ebert started his Overlooked Film Festival in Champaign Urbana, that is. Mike, Gus and I were living in Urbana at the time, and the before-and-after lectures made the overlooked films more accessible to people like me. My guess is Roger didn’t have people with disabilities in mind when he decided to host talks and panels before and after films there, but hey, ain’t life grand when ideas like that turn out to be “universal design?!” Roger Ebert’s Film Festival, affectionately known as “Ebertfest” by locals, helped me realize I can still appreciate movies.

Roger Ebert uses a text-to-speech program called “Alex” to make presentations at film festivals and conferences now. “For me, the Internet began as a useful tool and now has become something I rely on for my actual daily existence,” he told an audience at the Ted Conference earlier this year, explaining why he considers himself fortunate to be born in this era. “[If this had happened before], I’d be isolated as a hermit; I’d be trapped inside my head. Because of the digital revolution, I have a voice, and I do not have to scream.”

I can relate. I mean, sure, technology can be annoying at times. For many of us with disabilities, however, technology is a lifesaver. Thank you, Roger Ebert, for the courage and fortitude you’ve shown in getting your voice heard. We all benefit from hearing your reviews, and now, thanks to technology–my Victor Reading Stream and the National Library Service–I can look forward to reading your life story, too.

A succession of extraordinary days

My foot is feeling better. If I’m allowed back in normal shoes after my doctor appointment this Wednesday, I’ll be so busy dancing I won’t have time to assess that list I posted here of all the things I’d accomplish during my 12-week convalescence. Better do it now.

Fingers crossed: A good visit with the doctor on Wednesday means I can retire these things.

• Read books. This was a joy. I thoroughly enjoyed In Zanesville by Jo Ann Beard and Ursula Under by Ingrid Hill, and I especially recommend The Year We Left Home by my friend Jean Thompson. I finished State of Wonder by Ann Patchett yesterday –fantastic! Today I’ll start Turn of Mind by Alice La Plante. I am friends with Alice’s little sister Lynn and sat with Lynn to hear her big sister give a presentation on this book at printers Row Lit Fest in June – am looking forward to getting lost in Turn of Mind now.
• Brush Harper. Another joy, for both of us. Even with my fiberglass cast on, we managed to hobble to the little city park next to our building for a daily grooming.
• Watch White Sox games on TV with Mike. Did that, but considering how things are going this particular baseball season, I prefer listening to Brewers games on WTMJ-Am. No one announces a game like Bob Uecker.
• Attend lectures. I only went to one, but I wonder. Does it count if I gave one?
• See a few plays. Again, we only saw Porgy and Bess. We had ideas about seeing Chinglish until I found out a lot of it was in Mandarin. Subtitles don’t work when you can’t see!
• Play fetch with Harper. Over and over. And over. And over. And over again.
• Check my blood sugar levels. Over and over. And over. And over. And over again. When I went to my endocrinologist the other day, the results from my A1C test was 5.9. (For you lucky ones who don’t have Type 1 diabetes…that’s a very good number!)
• Get more comfortable using my iPhone. Took a cab over to Guild for the Blind in Chicago for one-on-one tutoring from a volunteer last month. I’m making progress, but am still on the uphill side of the learning curve.
• Work up some jazz tunes on the piano.I have been playing piano more lately than before the break. Can’t say I’ve worked up any new tunes, though.
• Share stories with friends. As corny as this sounds, my friends carried me through my convalescence. Thank you, friends. Thank you.
• Practice my newly-repaired accordion. Mike has been amazing during my convalescence, too. To thank him, I’ve kept my accordion in its case.
• Publish blog posts. This took up the majority of my time with a foot in a cast. Supervisors at my part-time job at Easter Seals Headquarters allowed me to work remotely, so I continued writing and editing posts for their blog about autism from home. The Bark started something they called The Broken Foot Chronicles and published a number of posts I wrote about Harper’s disposition while I healed. And then there’s the posts I publish here. Thanks for reading them, loyal blog readers!
• Write a few books. Okay, that was a lofty goal. While my foot was still in a cast, though, I did manage to write a piece for a book National Geographic School Publishing is putting together. Maybe that counts?!

Today, August 28, happens to be Goethe’s birthday. Along with giving Chicago one of its best street names, Goethe also gave us this fabulous quote: “A man can stand anything except a succession of ordinary days.” When I found out my foot had been broken, I wondered if I’d be able to stand a summer of ordinary days. With the way things have turned out, though, I find myself wondering what the heck I was worried about.

A remarkable, resourceful bunch

The writers in the memoir class I teach grew up on Chicago’s south side, in the Philippines, on farms, as military brats, in plush Chicago suburbs. They are Catholic, Jewish, agnostic. One thing these seniors all have in common? They are resourceful.

Take Myrna. She lives in a Chicago neighborhood called Lincoln Park, and When she found out there was a waiting list to get into the current eight-week memoir-writing session I lead in downtown Chicago, she called to see if Lincoln park Village might be willing to sponsor a writing class of its own. A post on the New York Times New Old Age Blog this week describes Lincoln Park Village:

A two-year-old nonprofit serving 230 members in 165 households, Lincoln Park Village was organized by older adults who want to age at home. More than 60 such villages, modeled on Boston’s decade-old Beacon Hill Village, have formed across the country, and 100 more are in development.

Susan, another student from the “Me, Myself, and I ”class I teach downtown, offered to host a free introductory class in her Lincoln Park home last week. The event was a success, and starting in September, I’ll be leading two different memoir-writing classes for seniors every week: the Wednesday class I’ve taught for years downtown, sponsored by the City of Chicago , and this new Lincoln Park Village class on Thursdays.

Jeff Flodin was one of many writers from the downtown Chicago “Me, Myself and I” class who showed up at the Lincoln Park Village event Thursday to cheer me on. Jeff lost his sight in his thirties, and he and his Seeing Eye dog Randy took a bus to Susan’s place — Harper and I got a ride from a Lincoln Park Village volunteer. Jeff had never been to Susan’s house before, and the bus stop was four blocks away, but they made it. Talk about resourceful!

Since starting the memoir class a year ago, Jeff has come out of retirement and is working part-time at Friedman Place, a non-profit Supportive Living Community for blind and visually impaired adults in Chicago. He leads a writing class at Friedman Place, and has started a blog for the Guild for the Blind here in Chicago. The post he wrote this week about labels used to identify people who are blind was both thoughtful and funny — just like Jeff! Here’s an excerpt :

So, for everyone out there wondering what to call me, I’ll give you a clue. Blind is OK. But, to really grab my attention, “Hey, handsome!” sure does the trick, too.

One thing I preach to the writers in my class is the merits of keeping essays short: they’re do-able, you choose stronger verbs, and shorter pieces are more likely to get published. So as much as I’d love to go on and on about all the resourceful writers in my class,
I’d better practice what I preach. Just one last story.

That's Hanna.

Loyal Safe & Soundblog readers are familiar with Hanna Bratman, the matriarch of our writing class. Last year Hanna was featured in a Someone You Should Know segment on CBS television here in Chicago. The CBS interview focused on how Hanna has embraced technology to write her memoirs–she has macular degeneration and uses special software that enlarges the print on the screen for her. From the CBS web site:

what do you want to be doing when you’re 90? Hannah Bratman of Chicago is going high-tech to make memories. As CBS 2′s Harry Porterfield reports, she’s someone you should know.

Francine Rich, my publisher at Blue Marlin Publications had been so moved after reading excerpts of Hanna’s writing here on my blog that she volunteered to collect and format all of Hanna’s essays for her.

So while raising three lively children and running her own publishing business, Francine found time to reformat 64 of Hanna’s essays and professionally edit them, too. The essays are still Hanna’s words, of course. “I didn’t revise her essays. There was no reason to.” Francine wants to surprise Hanna now by presenting the essays in book form. “Any chance you can get me some photos from her childhood?” No chance. There aren’t any.

Hanna grew up in Germany. Her family was Jewish, and she didn’t think to take photos along when she escaped on her own before World War II. She was only 20 years old when she arrived, alone, in the United States. Others in her family didn’t make it out in time. “I’ll tell you this,” she often says to me. “I’ve always been very, very lucky.”

Thanks to Francine, we’re the lucky ones now. we have the opportunity to learn from reading Hanna’s story. I’ll leave you with an excerpt:

I had not told my mother that I had gotten a “B” on that important test, and now I had to confess. “On that last test that he gave us, after his Heil Hitler, he handed out the papers, and I had a B instead of an A. All of my answers were correct. I raised my hand and got up, shouted Heil Hitler, and asked him why I had a B instead of an A. His reply: I gave you a B because you did not follow the formula I taught. You followed a formula I had not taught as yet. Besides, you are a nervy Jew to challenge me. I will downgrade all of your papers.”
I said to my mother, “I didn’t tell you about it, but I will never go back to that school. They don’t want me there.” I started crying again. My mother said, “If you really don’t want to go back, I won’t make you. You know, Hitler will not last much longer. There will be a change in government, and Hitler will not last. In the meantime, even if you don’t go to school, you will have to keep up with all your schoolwork and study French and English. I will arrange to get the assignments, and when Hitler is gone, you can go back. You know, they can take everything away from you, except of what’s in your head.”

Money, money, money, money

Back in 2009 I wrote a piece for the Chicago Tribune about how difficult it can be for people who are blind to keep track of U.S. currency. From the article:

180 countries use printed paper money, and the United States is the only one that prints bills all the same size and color, no matter how much each bill is worth.

A federal appeals court had ruled in 2008 that the U.S. currency system discriminates against blind people, but Henry M. Paulson, Jr., (the Treasury Secretary back then) had testified against the ruling. He said that people who are blind can function fine using credit cards or electronic scanners to identify different bills, and if that didn’t work they could rely on help from others.

Treasury Secretary Paulson did have a point. I’ve been blind for 25 years now, and in all that time I have never been shortchanged by a cashier. Even Chicago cab drivers — who have an undeserved reputation for being rude — have been honest with me, correcting me when I’ve made mistakes and tried to pay them too much. Still, I feel pretty stupid sometimes when a bill unfolds itself — or gets mangled up in my wallet — and I have to ask what money I’m carrying. So I was happy to find out this week that the U. S. Bureau of Engraving has developed a free app that people like me can use to increase accessibility to U.S. paper money. I was even happier still when Mike offered to download the EyeNote app onto my iPhone for me — I’m still crawling up the learning curve on using that thing!

I’m gaining ground, though — after a bit of a hitch at the start, Mike and I were able to get the EyeNote app working pretty quickly. The app is available as a free download at the Apple App Store. It runs without any special filters or background material, and you don’t have to have a data connection for the app to work. I double tapped on the EyeNote app, My iPhone read the directions out loud to me, I pulled a bill out of my wallet, pointed the iPhone camera lens at it, listened for the shutter to sound, waited a few seconds and…voila! A woman who sounds like she’s from Ireland called out the denomination! EyeNote was designed to work when the banknote is held in one hand and the mobile device is in the other hand — real life conditions. We played around with it, and it didn’t matter if I pointed the lens to the front or the back of the bill — I could even point it at an angle and that Irish woman inside the phone got it right. And if there comes a time I don’t want to hear her sweet little voice, I can go to “privacy mode.” Specially keyed vibrations/tones will identify the denomination for me. The U.S. government’s Money Factory site claims the EyePhone app is not in lieu-of any other accommodation they are considering, but in addition to other ideas.

It simply provides another option for the public which would preclude a user from having to carry a separate reader if they also own a compatible mobile device.

Recent studies say that over 100,000 people who are blind or visually impaired own Apple iPhones. The EyeNote app is one of a variety of measures the government is working on to help us keep track of our cash. A recent Federal Register notice says other measures include

• implementing a Currency Reader Program whereby a United States resident, who is blind or visually impaired, may obtain a coupon that can be applied toward the purchase of a device to denominate United States currency,
• continuing to add large high contrast numerals and different background colors to redesigned currency, and
• raised tactile features may be added to redesigned currency, which would provide users with a means of identifying each denomination via touch.

EyeNote will not be able to tell me if a bill is counterfeit, but the app will be updated to recognize when the design of U.S. paper money changes from time to time. The Bureau of Engraving says my EyeNote will work with the new $100 banknote after its introduction into circulation, so if any of you want to send one of those my way, let me know and I’ll give you my mailing address. I’d be happy to check that out.

Sturgeon Bay Snow Day

Harper didn't know what to make of the Jacuzzi.

While Harper and I were giving an evening presentation at Door County Community Center in Wisconsin last Tuesday night, it started snowing. The next morning, there was 15 inches of snow on the ground.

I tuned in to the local AM radio station and learned Door County has an army of 35 snow plows. Only one of them was assigned to Sturgeon Bay, where Harper and I were staying. “We’ll pass through all the major streets once today,” an official said during an interview with the radio host. “But if anyone especially needs a street plowed, call me at home.”

School was cancelled on Wednesday, and so were the three presentations we were scheduled to give that day. Harper and I were stuck in our hotel room. Ever seen the movie The Shining? Maybe if Jack Nicholson had brought a dog with him he wouldn’t have had such a rough time. Harper and I played endless rounds of fetch with his squeak toy, tinkered with the Voiceover feature on my new talking iPhone, listened to audio books, enjoyed warm baths in the Jacuzzi (well, I did, not Harper–though he was interested) and wandered outside now and then so Harper could pee – and play – in the snow.

A voice from behind the front desk called out a friendly hello during one of our lonely walks through the lobby. It was the hotel bookkeeper. “I live just down the street, so I could walk here,” she said. A cook had made it in, too, so the hotel restaurant would be open for lunch.

My friend Jenny is director of Women and Children’s Services at Ministry Door County Medical Center, and she’s the one who got the ball rolling for Harper and me to come “up north” to make all these presentations. Her husband Dennis owns a truck, so later that evening they plowed through the snow to rescue Harper and me and drive us to the only tavern open in the storm. Neighborhood Pub boasts a wall full of TV screens and was offering a Lenten Special Fish Fry that night. Leinenkugel makes a draft Pub Ale especially for Neighborhood Pub, and it paired well with the perch. By the time we left the pub, it was packed.

Jenny’s cell phone rang on the ride back to my hotel. A man named Ralph Bronner had come from Milwaukee to hear me speak that night. He’d booked a room at my hotel, and he was disappointed my event had been cancelled. Was I willing to meet him personally? I turned to Jenny’s husband Dennis. “As long as you guys come along,” I said. They agreed.

Ralph’s caretaker, a woman from Poland, had muscled their car through drifting snow to get to Door County. We joined Ralph and some of his friends in his room, and over a bottle of wine he regaled me with stories of his father.

If you came of age in the 60s and 70s, you must remember bathing with Dr. Bronner’s all-natural peppermint soap. Shampooing with it. Brushing your teeth with it, too. Even more fun than the soap’s peppermint tingle was reading all the quirky philosophical all-one-God beliefs Ralph Bronner’s father wrote on the label. That’s right: Ralph’s father was the Dr. Bronner who invented the formula for the famous soap.

From what I could gather, Dr. Bronner was more interested in his soap than his kids. Ralph grew up in 15 different orphanages and foster homes. Dr. Bronner was committed to an insane asylum in Milwaukee but escaped in 1947 and fled to California to start his soap company. “They didn’t think he was crazy there,” Ralph told me. Ralph and his brother eventually joined the soap company, and now it is run by Dr. Bronner’s grandsons. Dr. Bronner’s Magic Soap is still available in health food stores all over America, and the Bronner family is scrupulous about being an environmentally-friendly business. It gives employees generous bonuses and donates 70% of profits to charity. Over the years the Bronners have donated to arts programs in Door County. That’s how Ralph heard about my presentation, and that’s why he made the trip from Milwaukee to hear me speak.

We didn’t stay long in Ralph’s room. They needed to head out for dinner at, where else? Neighborhood Pub! Harper led me back to my room then for one last soak in the Jacuzzi. My trip to Door County may not have turned out the way I’d expected, but it sure was interesting. And here’s some good news: Jenny is going to try to work it out so Harper and I can return in the Fall to make up for the presentations that were cancelled. If Ralph Bronner makes the trip again, I’ll see to it that he gets a front row seat.

Tweeting by ear

I have a part-time job at Easter Seals Headquarters, moderating the Easter Seals and autism blog. Five years ago my then-boss told everyone in the Interactive Marketing Department that we had to open an account on Facebook. I thought this was creepy. I like my job, though, so in a civil-disobedience-type move, I went ahead and opened an account. In my dog’s name. Hanni handed her Facebook account over to Harper when she retired.

This guy look familiar? He's Harper's bro!

My job at Easter Seals has taught me a lot about social media. I’m on Twitter. I’m LinkedIn. I even have an account on Good Reads. And when my nephew Brian offered to set up a Beth Finke Fan Page on Facebook for me? I said “Sure!” It’s one thing to have all these accounts, though, and another thing to actually use them. That’s why I decided to hire Eliza Cooper.

I met Eliza when I was training with Harper at the Seeing Eye. She plays the drums, she’s an avid reader, and…a social media consultant. I liked Eliza the minute I met her, and when we discovered her dog is Harper’s brother, we knew it was destiny. We were meant to work together! And so, I am very pleased to introduce my social media consultant, Eliza Cooper, as a guest blogger today.

Dropping by to introduce myself

by Eliza Cooper

Hi there. I’m Eliza, and I wanted to drop by to introduce myself. I had the pleasure of meeting Beth in late November when she was in training with her new dog Harper at The Seeing Eye. I was also there to receive a new dog (my second), and happened to be matched with Harper’s brother. They’re both high-energy, fun-loving boys — great for city life, and my dog and I are busy taking New York by storm.

Beth and I got to talking about Facebook and Twitter one day during class, and when she found out that I am a social media consultant by trade, she expressed interest in learning more.

What is a social media consultant, you might ask? I seek to empower people, businesses and brands through social media, meaning that I give advice to clients on how to promote their business via tweets, Facebook fan pages, blog posts, and any other social media platform that might be relevant to them. The social media realm is full of opportunities to engage with peers and consumers, and more and more companies are realizing this. It turns out that customers become more devoted to a brand when it has an online personality, and when the employees behind that personality care to listen to ideas — and complaints – from customers. The challenge for companies is to figure out how to reach those consumers who will engage with them online. I help them surmount that challenge.

Anyway, for the next few months, I’ll be giving Beth some ideas on new ways to build her online presence, and I hope you’ll stay tuned to Beth’s Twitter feed and Facebook fan page.

If you’d like to find out more about me and what I do, please visit my blog, and follow me on Twitter. Thanks! We look forward to your input.

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.