Library love

Seems like Hanni and I had just returned home from that Youth Festival in Champaign when we found ourselves boarding a train again Monday morning. This time, our destination was Glencoe, IL. Librarian Melissa Henderson met us at the train station and led us to a local coffee shop for a snack before our morning presentation at the Glencoe Public Library. In between bites of cream cheese and lox on a bialy, I asked Melissa where she’d gone to library school.

“U of I,” she boasted. She had reason to be proud: the U.S. News and World Report ranks University of Illinois’ Graduate School of Library and Information Science (GSLIS) the top program in the nation. “I Was in their LEEP program,” she said. “I absolutely loved it!”

Melissa was amazed I knew what the “LEEP program” was. And she nearly fell off her chair when I told her I am friends with Sandy Wolf.

Back when we lived in Urbana, the University of Illinois Alumni Magazine asked me to write a story about LeEp, an online program at GSLIS that allows students far away to experience synchronous education — live sessions where the professors and students are on line at the same time, interacting with each other. Students are required to spend brief periods of time on the U of I campus taking course work, including a ten-day on-campus summer stay in Urbana that Melissa lovingly referred to as “boot camp.”

The wonderful Sandy Wolf is a librarian at GSLIS, and she was our next-door neighbor when we lived in Urbana. Sandy was a huge help to me with my magazine story about the library school. She connected me with all the right people, including a student named Jenny Schwartzberg. Jenny is deaf and uses a cochlear implant and a hearing aid to enhance both her hearing and her speaking skills. Wwhen I interviewed Jenny, she told me that taking coursework on line allowed her to work on her Masters and keep her day job as a Collection Development Assistant and Gift Specialist at the Newberry Library in Chicago. From my article:

Schwartzberg’s hearing impairment gave LEEP the opportunity to further develop technological delivery of the program. {Manager of Instructional Technology Jill} Gengler worked with LEEP colleagues and University of Illinois’ Disability Resources and Educational Services Division to provide captioning for lectures broadcast over Real Audio. “We provided a second screen for her with captions,” {Publicity and Communications Coordinator Kim}Schmidt said.

“It’s pretty technical, and it delivers the lectures to her in real time, you know, the same time the other students are listening.”

Melissa the Glencoe librarian gushed about the U of I program, and especially about my pal Sandy Wolf. . “I love Sandy! She’s the one who got me through graduate school, she’s the one who would find you the stuff no one else could. She’d even FedEx it to you sometimes, she was so, so good to me,” Melissa said, laughing as she remembered to add one more line. “Oh, And to all the other students, too!” Sandy has been working with GSLIS since 1984. It’s no wonder she received a Distinguished Service Award from the American Library Association last year.

At the end of my talk, I let Hanni off harness and she got rubbed by...everyone.

The coincidences didn’t stop there. As Hanni and I were settling ourselves in to start our presentation, an energetic young woman came bounding up to introduce herself. It was Jocelyn Snower. She’s the woman I wrote about in the Chicago Tribuneafter her boss realized she was visually impaired and fired her. All our interviews had been online or over the phone, so this was the first time I met her in person. She lives in Glencoe, and she brought all four of her kids with her to hear me speak. “I hope they behave!” she laughed.

They did. Behave, I mean. It was a thrill to have the Snower family in the audience, along with so many other kids from Glencoe. My favorite question after our presentation this time came from a little girl in the front row. “So can you not see spiders?” she asked, almost in a whisper.

I told her no, I couldn’t. ”Are you afraid of spiders?” I asked, knowing full well what the answer would be.

”Yes!” she said.

”I am, too,” I confessed to her. “So really, it’s not such a bad thing, my not being able to see spiders anymore. I just pretend they aren’t there.”

Visual art for the visually impaired

I like art openings. Wine and cheese is a favorite combo of mine, and art events make for entertaining eavesdropping.

The "Finster Family Picture" clock, from the collection of Glen C. Davies and Sandra Wolf.

Most of what I know about visual art is thanks to Glen C. Davies and Sandy Wolf, our dear next-door neighbors back when we lived in Urbana. Glen is an artist, muralist, lecturer and curator. He got his early training traveling with the circus, and I spent many sweet summer evenings swaying on their porch swing listening to Glen’s stories of those adventures. Glen’s wife Sandy Wolf has been working diligently as a librarian for the University of Illinois’ renowned Graduate School of Library and Information Science since 1984, and last year she won a Distinguished Service Award for her work there. Both Glen and Sandy are art collectors, and it’s a treat to hear them tell stories of how they find their treasures.

This Friday Glen is giving a presentation at the Chicago Cultural Center about a show he’s put together called Stranger in Paradise: The Works of Reverend Howard Finster. From the Explore Chicago web site:

• Friday, July 23, 5:30 pm:

Gallery Talk with Glen Davies, curator of the exhibition

• Friday, July 23, 6-8 pm:

Opening Reception

I’ve gone to a number of openings where Glen’s own artwork is shown, and after each show Glen singles me out, asks me what I thought, what I heard, my overall impression of the event. He knows I can take in a lot by feeling the vibe in the room, listening to what people say, then using my imagination to come up with my own interpretation. Some other artists beat themselves up adapting visual artwork for the blind, curating special tactile art exhibits, creating 3-D renditions of popular pieces of art. It’s all well-meaning, I know, but the simple truth is that the sense of touch is nothing like the sense of sight. Touch is too particular. Whether it be a sculpture, a quilted wall hanging, or a 3-D rendition, I can only touch one tiny bit of the artwork at a time. I mean, I can spread my hands across a piece of artwork to take it all in at one time, but that’s just not the same as glancing at a piece of art. If I want to really and truly examine the artwork by touch, I have to trace it with a finger. My interpretation is limited to a part of the piece that’s just one fingertip wide.

And don’t get me started about those audio art tours. I like to hear what others are saying while I’m taking in art, and I can’t do that with headphones on. Paying to get into a museum, then walking around listening to a monologue doesn’t make sense to me. I could listen at home, lying comfortably on my couch!

Glen Davies has always understood that I have a unique — and valuable — way of experiencing visual art as is. I go to lectures, I read (or in the case of Glen and Sandy, hear

"Flying Angel" by Howard Finster, from the collection of Glen C. Davies and Sandra Wolf.

firsthand) background stories ahead of time. And like so many others who are blind, I have a good imagination! I also learned a ton about the visual arts by listening to teachers talk to their  drawing students during my stint as a nude model. I have Glen Davies to thank, in part, for my decision to give modeling a try.

When I told him I was considering auditioning for the job, Glen explained how important live models are to art students, then talked at length about a favorite model back when he was a student at the School of the Art Institute of Chicago. The model was obese, Glen said, which gave students plenty to draw, so many folds and layers. ” Artists like drawing models with some meat on their bones,” he told me. “They’ll love you!”

A backhanded compliment, to be sure, but Glen’s enthusiasm gave me the courage to give modeling a try. Staying still for 50 minutes at a time gave me lots of time to think about my writing, how to reformulate a lead, how to get across a certain idea. I used that quiet time to put together an essay about my modeling experience. Nude Modeling: Goin’ In Blind was published in alternative newspapers all over the country and launched my writing career.

In one of those full circle-type things, my most recent publication achievement also is thanks to Glen Davies. A year or two ago he emailed me the copy he was writing for the book that goes along with the Howard Finster show. He wanted my opinion, my suggestions. The book Stranger in Paradise: The Works of Reverend Howard Finster was published in March. Glen is listed as the author, and Phyllis Kind, Jim Arient, and N. J. Girardot are credited with contributing as well. And if you look closely at the acknowledgments page, you’ll see my name, too — Glen was kind enough to thank me for my teeny tiny part in editing his original copy. Now in addition to being the only blind woman in America to be honored for sports broadcasting, I bet I am the only blind woman in America to be acknowledged in a book about visual art.

If you live anywhere near Chicago, don’t miss Glen’s gallery talk this Friday, July 23 at 5:30 at the Chicago Cultural Center. Look for us there — I’ll be the one with the dog.