The Humanity Project and other light topics

Some week, huh?

Well, luckily, defying logic, life goes on. Here’s how life has been going on in the Finke-Knezovich worlds of late:

• Beth and Whitney have been on a roll since their staph-infected first few days at the Vermont Studio Center. Beth says she’s getting a lot done, that Whitney seems to be mellowing in accordance with the more pastoral pace and setting. And Beth says the food at VSC is terrific.
  
• While in Urbana this week, I had a great lunch of Thai food with Jean Thompson. Beth has written here at the blog about Jean, our dear, one-of-a-kind friend. Jean was a mentor to Beth while Beth worked at writing and publishing “Long Time, No See.” Jean’s a spookily talented writer who gets into characters’ heads and lays them open to readers like no one else. During her teaching career at the University of Illinois, Jean produced a highly regarded body of short-story collections and novels. One of the collections, Who Do You Love, was a finalist for the National Book Award. Well, since retiring from the academic world, she’s been producing more great work than ever. Her latest – The Humanity Project – just received a thoughtful and glowing review at the New York Times. If you’re a reader, go out and get it, or anything by Jean.
• Roger Ebert is dead. Long Live Ebertfest. My friend Brand Fortner, whose daughter contributed a guest post here about her father’s adoration for Ebert, is at this year’s Ebertfest in Champaign in the newly, grandly renovated historic Virginia Theater. Another Urbana friend—Steven Bentz, of Steven and Nancy—who adopted Hanni, is director of the Virginia, and has been working heroically  to ensure the theater was ready after months of work.
• There are some nice things about being a bachelor for a few weeks. Utter spontaneity is one. A week or two ago, on a Sunday night, I was restless. I’d heard that pianist Eric Reed and his trio was putting on a great Thelonious Monk-themed show at Jazz Showcase. I looked up at the clock, which read 7:30. I closed my computer, I put on my coat, and walked the two blocks to the Showcase. Walked in, bought a ticket, sat down, and enjoyed a sublime set. Sometimes, life is just good.
• I just learned that thanks to the good people who care for our son Gus up at Bethesda Lutheran Communities in Watertown, Wis., Gus will be getting an hour-long joy ride this summer — in either an open-top vintage car or…a sidecar on a motorcycle! (I love motorcycles, and based on how much he enjoyed riding in our bicycle trailer, I think Gus would love either the sidecar or the antique auto).

Happy birthday Flo.

Best of all: Tomorrow, April 20, Flo – Beth’s evergreen mother – turns 97 years old. She’s still living in her own place, and her face lights up about any number of simple pleasures.

Happy 97^th Flo.

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.

Sweet Home Urbana

There's the Harpster. He and Beth will be back in Sweet Home Chicago Wednesday.

So, the latest news from New Jersey is that Beth and Harper had a great time in Manhattan. Apparently Harper had already been to the city three or four times during his training and was unfazed by the throngs at the Port Authority; then he led Beth on a walk in Central Park, and had no problem threading himself and Beth through the holiday crowds on the sidewalks. Also, Beth had another friend visit at school today, and that means more Harper photos, one which I’ll post here.

But enough about Beth. Have I told you about me lately? I just got back from dropping Hanni off with Steven and Nancy at her new home in Urbana. I left last night after work, thinking I’d lucked out with weather. It was warmer than it’s been in awhile, and no snow or rain. Except with the warmth came a thick fog from the downstate snow cover, and visibility was next to nil for some stretches. But it’s not what you’d call a challenging drive (can you say straight and flat?), and I have driven that trip — literally — hundreds of times.

I was raised in a Chicago suburb, but Champaign-Urbana feels like my home town. That’s where I really grew up. I went to college there at the University of Illinois. I met Beth there. Most of my friends — to this day — are connected in some way to my time in C-U. Gus was born there. My big sister Kris — who has helped me stay relatively sane through the years –  lives there with her husband Ed, and Kris’s handsome son Aaron lives there with his photographer wife Joanna and their three kids, who are the cutest kids on earth.

That's nephew Aaron and Joanna with the brood at the Champaign County Fair. If you say they're not the best-looking kids on earth, you're in big trouble.

The university is at the center of life in C-U, and why not: It’s full of whip-smart people doing remarkable things. People like the late physicist John Bardeen — a two-time Nobel Laureate (once for the transistor, once for the theory of superconductivity). Writers like Richard Powers and our wonderful friend Jean Thompson — if you haven’t read her, you should. And you’re looking at this blog thanks to the University of Illinois — where Mosaic, the first graphical Web browser, was developed. Let’s just say the U of I is one of the grandest of the grand land-grant institutions in the land.

That's Nancy and you know who.

Some of the best people in town don’t have a thing to do with university life. Two of them are our friends Steven and Nancy. Steven’s the head of a local arts group, and Nancy’s a nurse practitioner. They live in a sweet place on the edge of town in Urbana, and we’ve visited and stayed there — with Hanni — several times over the past few years.

All of which is why, despite my growing sense of dread over the days leading up to last night, delivering Hanni to her new home was not a sad ordeal. OK, OK, I almost broke down into mush while packing her squeak toys, food, doggie bed, and other paraphernalia. But driving south felt like I was driving her home.

When we got to Steven and Nancy’s house, Hanni got excited and pulled me to their front door. When it opened, I unhooked her leash and she pranced around like she owned the place. I brought her stuff in from the car and Hanni watched intently as I ceremonially handed the big bag of dog food to Steven, and she followed him as he stowed it away. Next, he placed her ratty old dog bed next to an easy chair. By now, Hanni was on her back having her belly scratched by Nancy. Minutes later, Hanni was lying in her bed, surrounded by squeak toys while the three of us humans enjoyed libations.

When it was time for bed, Steven took Hanni out for her last constitutional. Back in the house, he gave her her goodnight treat. I headed for bed, and so did Hanni — she followed Steven and Nancy and slept in their room. As if it had always been that way.

The night before — on her last night in Chicago — I took Hanni for a long walk. Only instead of heading south to the park, I took her into the teeth of downtown. On her old routes with Beth. At Madison Street, she stopped, looked at me, and pulled me west, toward the Ogilvie train station that she and Beth have been to countless times. On the way home, as we passed Sears Tower (yeah, I know it’s Willis Tower, but I’m not doin’ it), she pulled me to the entrance door. That’s where Beth goes for office meetings once a week. I scratched her head and we went along on our way.

As we neared home, we stopped with a huddle of others, all bundled up on a snowy Chicago evening, on their way home from work. As we waited for the light to change, a

So I guess Hanni's going to adjust to life with Steven and Nancy.

woman in front of me bent down, looked Hanni in the face and said, “You are one beautiful city dog.”

That woman was absolutely right, but not anymore. Now Hanni’s one beautiful Urbana dog.

My Degree of Separation from David Sedaris

Do not deny yourself--read "Do Not Deny Me" or any of Jean's books.

1987. A hot, humid day in Champaign, Ill. Mike and I are perched on stools at the Esquire Lounge. My folded cane sits atop the bar, forming a rigid white line that separates my beer glass from Mike’s. The discussion? How can I get to the pool on my own to swim laps.

The stranger sitting next to me interrupts. Her name was Jean, she said, and she couldn’t help but eavesdrop. “Are you talking about getting to the pool on campus?” she asked. I nodded. Newly blind back then, I didn’t have a Seeing Eye dog yet. I could hardly make it to the mailbox down the street. How was I going to get to the bus stop on my own? Not to mention the locker room, then to the edge of the pool to swim?

“That’s easy!” Jean said. She was a swimmer. “I drive over to the campus pool every other day. I’ll just pick you up and take you with me.”

And that’s how I met Jean Thompson. During our drives to the pool, I found out she was a writer. She taught creative writing at University of Illinois. Jean was a natural-born teacher, really — she knew when to set me free, let me try taking the bus and handle the pool on my own.

I’ve been swimming on my own ever since. I’ve been Jean’s friend ever since, too. And what a generous friend she’s been to me. Jean was encouraging when I got to work on my own book, Long Time, No See and generously offered to critique my first draft. Smart gal that she is, Jean didn’t hand her critique over to me on sheets of paper. She sat down at home and recorded them onto a cassette. That way I could access the notes on my own. It was Jean who taught me how to use dialogue, and Jean is the one who explained what those three magical words “show, don’t tell” mean when it comes to writing.

In 1999, Jean’s short story collection Who Do You Love was a finalist for the National Book Award. Usually only novels get that sort of recognition – rarely do short story collections become finalists in the fiction category. Jean became an instant celebrity, especially in Champaign-Urbana. I was pitching Long Time, No See to publishers at the time, and Jean offered to drive me over to University of Illinois Press and walk me in. Everyone inside recognized Jean and congratulated her. They couldn’t help but notice me, attached at the award-winning elbow. University of Illinois Press accepted my manuscript. Long Time, No See was published in 2003. One of the blurbs on the back cover is written by Jean Thompson.

It’s been twenty-plus years since Jean and I met on those barstools. In that time:

• she’s had five more books published, which makes nine books in all.
• a number of her stories have been published in The New Yorker.
• One of her short stories was selected for Children Playing Before A Statue of Hercules, a collection of the “short stories David Sedaris loves most.” Other notable writers in David’s collection: Alice Munro, Tobias Wolff, Lorrie Moore, and Joyce Carol Oates.

Jean’s most recent short story collection — Do Not Deny Me — is getting rave reviews all over the place. The Chicago Tribune published a favorable review on May 23:

Move over, Alice Munro, this gifted writer now sits in my mind near the throne of the short-story queens and kings of old. [Thompson] is a master of dialogue, character, pacing and plot, and—anyone who loves the form will have to cheer about this…the dialogue—pitch perfect.

National Public Radio aired a glowing review by Alan Cheuse last Monday, and this week Jean’s in… People!

Jean still lives in Urbana, but she’s coming to Chicago on July 15 to participate in a reading series at Hop Leaf Bar. I plan to get there early and find a seat right at the bar. Because, of course, you never know what wonderful person might belly up right next to you!