The ACB E-Forum Volume LVIII August 2019 No. 2 Published by the American Council of the Blind ***** ** Be A Part of ACB The American Council of the Blind (TM) is a membership organization made up of more than 70 state and special-interest affiliates. To join, contact the national office at 1-800-424-8666. ** Contribute to Our Work Those much-needed contributions, which are tax-deductible, can be sent to Attn: Treasurer, ACB, 6300 Shingle Creek Pkwy., Suite 195, Brooklyn Center, MN 55430. If you wish to remember a relative or friend, the national office has printed cards available for this purpose. Consider including a gift to ACB in your Last Will and Testament. If your wishes are complex, call the national office. To make a contribution to ACB by the Combined Federal Campaign, use this number: 11155. ** Check in with ACB For the latest in legislative and governmental news, call the “Washington Connection” 24/7 at 1-800-424-8666, or read it online. Listen to ACB Reports by downloading the MP3 file from www.acb.org, or call (605) 475-8154 and choose option 3. Tune in to ACB Radio at www.acbradio.org or by calling (605) 475-8130. Learn more about us at www.acb.org. Follow us on Twitter at @acbnational, or like us on Facebook at www.facebook.com/AmericanCounciloftheBlindOfficial. © 2019 American Council of the Blind Eric Bridges, Executive Director Sharon Lovering, Editor 1703 N. Beauregard St., Suite 420, Alexandria, VA 22311 ***** Table of Contents The Dog Days of Summer Take Over the Forum, by Sharon Lovering Three Cheers for Holly!!, by Dr. Ron Milliman Please Pet Me!, by Toni and Ed Eames A Well-Behaved Mom: In Memory of and Loving Tribute to Lois Jean Goss, by Shirley Manning Choices, by Cindy Van Winkle Nikki, The Best Friend a Boy Ever Had, by Ray Campbell Chosen by Charley, by Rita Reese-Whiting Dog Days, by Peter Altschul Don’t Let These Dog Days Get You Down! Refreshment for the Dog Days of Summer, by Penny Reeder Doggone Good, by Ann Chiappetta Bite-Size Dog Tales From the Archives: Mehitabel, A Cat for All Seasons, by Harriet Fielding If Leaders Behaved Like Boy Scouts, by Larry P. Johnson A Night at the Opera, by Kelsey Nicolay Need a Lift? Is Lyft the Way to Go?, by Carl Jarvis Affiliate and Committee News Here and There, edited by Sharon Strzalkowski Are We in the Doghouse for This Themed Issue of ‘The ACB E-Forum?,’ by Ron Brooks ACB Officers ACB Board of Directors ACB Board of Publications Accessing Your ACB Braille and E-Forums ** Are You Moving? Do You Want to Change Your Subscription? Contact Sharon Lovering in the ACB national office, 1-800-424-8666, or via e-mail, slovering@acb.org. Give her the information, and she’ll make the changes for you. * Keep up with the most important ACB news and announcements without any other chatter. Subscribe to the ACB Announce listserv. Send a blank e-mail to announce-subscribe@acblists.org, or visit www.acblists.org/mailman/listinfo/announce and type your email address and name where indicated. * Check out ACB Radio Mainstream to keep abreast of happenings in the blind community. * ACB Radio’s Main Menu is the talk of the town when it comes to technology; check it out at www.acbradio.org. ***** The Dog Days of Summer Take Over the Forum by Sharon Lovering When I was a kid growing up in Arlington, Va., one of our local weathermen taught me the meaning of “The Dog Days of Summer.” He called it the “triple H” – hazy, hot and humid. They’re called dog days because everyone lolls around with their tongues hanging out, not doing much because it’s too hot to move. August seems to have the majority of these days, so we’re using the August E-Forum to celebrate the Dog Days of August. In this edition of “The ACB E-Forum,” we celebrate the bond between humans and their dogs, be they guide dogs or family pets. You’ll meet Nikki, a dog from Ray Campbell’s childhood; Charley, who chose Rita Reese-Whiting and her husband; Holly, Ron Milliman’s guide dog, who saved the day for an advanced macroeconomics theory class; Heidi, Peter Altschul’s first guide dog, who had a penchant for ice cream; Winnie, Shirley Manning’s guide dog; several of Toni and Ed Eames’ guide dogs (past and present); Penny Reeder’s dog, Willow; and many others. To balance it out, and appease my two cats, I found a delightful article in a 1987 issue about Harriet Fielding’s Siamese cat, Mehitabel, better known as Mitty. It is our hope that you will enjoy the stories readers share herein – preferably with a cold beverage of your choice. (Just don’t spill it on whatever device you’re using to read this issue.) ***** Three Cheers for Holly!! by Dr. Ron Milliman As a university student, one has to take a few courses, maybe even a lot of courses, that tend to lack intense interest. OK, let’s just say it the way it is. Some courses are just plain boring: the book is boring, the class is boring, the professor is boring, everything about it is boring. Now, if they are boring to you and me, and we are supposed to be intellectual scholars seeking every little possible morsel of knowledge with the utmost enthusiasm, can you imagine how boring those courses must be to our guide dogs? I was working on my Ph.D. at Arizona State University, majoring in marketing with supporting areas in economics and quantitative systems. Now, how exciting does that sound? Admittedly, some of the economics and statistics courses left a bit of excitement to be desired. Anyway, I was enrolled in Dr. Plantz’s Advanced Macroeconomic Theory course. Just the name of that course should put you in the party mood, right? Well, maybe not. Anyway, Dr. Plantz had the habit of totally ignoring the bell when it rang, signaling the end of the class. He would just keep on lecturing, like he was totally deaf to the bell’s ringing frequency. My guide dog, Holly, would lie next to my chair at the end of the row. She would just sleep or whatever guide dogs do during an Advanced Macroeconomic Theory class. Holly was an exceptionally good dog. She was an exceptionally quiet dog. In fact, I very, very rarely even heard her bark. Oh, she would snore when she was sleeping, and sometimes in class, I would have to nudge her with my foot to arouse her from that dream of catching squirrels in the woods or whatever dogs dream about. Dr. Plantz was lecturing, telling us about how the Gross National Product was correlated with the movement of the prime interest rate or some such theoretical construct when the bell rang, telling us that the class period was over, and it was time to go to the next class, go grab a hot dog, or whatever the students did when leaving Dr. Plantz’s classroom. But Dr. Plantz just kept right on lecturing, drawing a graph on the chalkboard, changing the prime rate from six to five percent, and showing how the GNP would go up by some amount. Then, it happened!! Holly got up and shook her harness as loudly as she could as she looked directly at Dr. Plantz. She was tactfully, that is, as tactfully as an 87-pound long-haired German shepherd could be, telling Dr. Plantz that the class period was over, and it was time to go home and get some doggie treats or maybe a hot dog from the student union. Dr. Plantz, however, just kept on lecturing, ignoring the bell, and even worse, ignoring Holly’s tactful reminder that the class was officially over, at least as far as she was concerned. After a few seconds, Holly simply said, “Enough is enough, Dr. Plantz. I have heard all the Advanced Macroeconomic Theory that I can take for today!” She started barking as loudly as she could, louder than I ever heard her bark before or since! Dr. Plantz literally ran to the far side of the room, and while frantically waving his arms, he yelled, “Class dismissed.” We all filed out of the room and over into the elevator. My classmates were all saying, “Good dog, Holly!” “Way to go, Holly!” and “Three cheers for Holly!” After that day, Dr. Plantz was mysteriously able to hear the bell when it rang at the end of class! ***** Please Pet Me! by Toni and Ed Eames (Author’s Note: This article was originally published in “Dog World” magazine. Sadly, my husband Ed, his guide dog Echo, and my guide dog Escort are no longer with me. I have just celebrated 51 years of working with guides. My current girl is Adora. She will be 8 in October.) I sat in the cancer center lounge awaiting my first post-surgery chemotherapy treatment. In a nervous state of anticipation, I bent down frequently to caress my golden retriever guide dog Escort lying at my feet. “May I pet your dog?” asked the patient sitting on my right. Without hesitation, I invited her to gain comfort from my silky canine stress reliever. Realizing that as a guide dog partner, I had the right and privilege to have Escort with me at all times, I felt compelled to share my dog with others who could benefit from his presence. When I trained with my first guide dog, a golden retriever named Charm, in 1967, the prevailing advice from guide dog trainers was never to allow anyone to pet a dog in harness. That view still dominates the guide dog movement to this day. For the first few months after graduation, I strictly adhered to the no petting in harness policy. However, after entering graduate school I needed to take a revisionist stand. The theory behind the no-petting policy is that dogs will get too excited and distracted, ignoring or neglecting their work, endangering the blind partner. The harness, according to this thinking, should always be regarded as a symbol of work mode to the dog. During team training, my classmates and I were advised to remove the harness before allowing our dogs to interact with the public, giving them the off-duty signal. Wanting Charm to be able to associate with friends, family and classmates without the hassle of removing her harness, I developed my own approach to this issue. Recognizing the fundamental problem was keeping Charm focused on her work as guide, I trained her to remain in a “sit” or “down stay” while accepting hands-on attention from others. Rather than removing the harness, I gave her the off-duty signal by dropping the handle. She was not allowed to solicit attention by pulling toward a stranger’s reaching hand, or toward a person she knew or liked. Of course, at home, where she was out of harness and functioned as any other pet dog, Charm was free to greet, play and cuddle with anyone visiting our home. Another part of the training regimen was teaching Charm not to respond to strangers calling to her by whistling, clucking or offering her food. My perceptive partner quickly learned she would receive plenty of affectionate pats only when given the off-duty signal and calmly assuming a “sit” or “down” position. When I held the harness handle in my hand and Charm was performing her role as guide, she regarded outstretched hands as obstacles to be avoided. After completing graduate school, I was employed at a psychiatric hospital where Charm was the focus of attention from many fellow workers and patients. Her early training paid off, and she was able to enjoy an active social life without compromising her guide dog duties. Although I didn’t know it, I was an early pioneer of the therapy dog movement. Although Charm was not in harness in my office and patients could play with her there, many did not understand the prohibition of touching her while she guided me in the building and on the hospital grounds. Because of the conditioning I had done with her, Charm was not distracted by these friendly overtures. Recognizing the value for me and my guide dogs of controlled interaction with members of the public, I subsequently trained Charm’s successors, Flicka, Ivy and Escort, to the same standard. * Ed Eames Unlike Toni, who could not keep her hands off any animal entering her personal space, I did not consider myself an animal lover. Therefore, when I trained with my first guide dog, a black Labrador named Perrier, in 1981, the strong admonition never to permit anyone to pet my dog in harness was not questioned by me. All that changed one day when I was in a Center City bakery in Philadelphia buying doughnuts and muffins. Perrier was sitting quietly at my side near the counter when an elderly woman approached and asked if she could pet him. Before I could get out my usual, “No, he’s in harness and can’t be petted,” she said in an emotion-laden quivering voice near to tears, “I used to have a dog, but had to give him up when my husband died and I moved into an apartment building where they won’t allow pets.” Responding to her obvious need for a furry fix, I said, “Of course you can pet him. His name is Perrier.” Taking his cue from the exchange, Perrier calmly leaned into her hand as she petted him on the head for the next two or three minutes. Stepping up to the counter, the salesperson commented that the woman left the store all smiles. From that time on, Perrier’s guide dog role was expanded to include short-term therapy for people in need of a doggie fix! My continued relaxation of the “no-pet” rule had unanticipated consequences. While soliciting support for a blindness-related bill in Sacramento, I breakfasted at the state capitol dining room. The day before I had walked the halls of the assembly with a friend who never allowed anyone to touch her guide dog. The committee vote was going to be very close, and we needed the support of one committee member, who was never in his office. As I put my breakfast tray on the table, I contemplated various strategies to get to this elusive politician. As soon as I sat down, a friendly voice asked if he could pet my guide dog Kirby lying under the table. Welcoming the intrusion, I invited the stranger to join me for breakfast. Shifting the conversation from our mutual love of dogs, I asked him what he was doing in the capitol. To my delight, he was the elusive politician, and, over a cup of coffee, I was able to discuss my issue with him. He was the swing vote and our bill passed, thanks to Kirby! Had the assemblyman approached my blind colleague, he would probably have felt rebuffed and the opportunity to lobby him about the bill would have been lost! * Toni and Ed Eames Since our marriage and move to California, our careers have gone to the dogs! We lecture at veterinary schools and at veterinary conferences, and our dogs are like magnets to those folks. As we wander around the exhibit hall and hotel lobby, Escort and Echo attract lots of attention, enabling us to meet and chat with scores of people in the animal health care community. Strolling through the mall or waiting for trains, planes and buses, we have the opportunity to speak with many people who otherwise may have avoided talking to a blind person. Children can be educated about the need to always ask before approaching a dog, how to be gentle and why our dogs are with us in public. Even the most committed dog lover should ask before approaching a guide, hearing or service dog. Just as you would not hug a stranger, the same etiquette should be extended to working canine assistants. Many disabled people feel their dogs are an extension of their bodies and resent unsolicited attention showered on their teammates as an invasion of their personal space. Some dogs sport signs saying, “Please don’t pet me, I’m working.” Of course, if you run into us and want to say hello to Echo and Escort, please come over and give us the opportunity to settle the dogs for a visit! ***** A Well-Behaved Mom In Memory of and Loving Tribute to Lois Jean Goss by Shirley Manning Mom and I used to go shopping for clothes together often, along with my guide dog, Winnie. Although not always approving, Mom knew my tastes and was willing to keep an eye out for what I liked. Shopping has never been Winnie’s favorite job, but she knew at the end she would get to play with Mom’s dog, Ladybug, so she put up with a long day of being on the go. On one shopping trip, I was looking for a dressy sweater to wear with a skirt I’d bought a while back. After spending most of the day looking, we were finally successful in a department store. As we approached the checkout counter, the cashier was bending down behind it digging in a box of hangers — she did not see Winnie by my side. From where she worked behind the counter she still could not see Winnie. Several people were ahead of us in line, and the woman next to me began asking about Winnie and making comments. As she often would, my mom left me at the counter to look at something that caught her eye. The cashier was listening to the woman and me talking. “She’s really beautiful,” the woman said. “Thanks! I think so too. She’s a lot of help and a great companion,” I replied. From behind the counter the cashier said, “It’s so nice of you to feel that way. Does she go everywhere with you?” “Oh yes. We’re together almost all the time,” I said. Then the woman next to me said, “And she’s so well behaved!” At this point, the cashier could not help herself. In a perplexed tone she said, “Well behaved…?” By this time, there were quite a few people in line at the register. It was obvious to all except the poor cashier what was going on. The cashier had not seen Winnie, but she had seen my mom. I and several other folks nearby laughed aloud. I backed up a little, allowing the cashier to view Winnie, and said, “I believe you haven’t seen my trusted friend down here.” My mom, noticing the commotion, came back. I informed her that she was, “Very well behaved!” Now it was her turn to be perplexed, so I explained. All within earshot had a good laugh, including the cashier. ***** Choices by Cindy Van Winkle When you’re blind, you have choices on how to travel. It’s a personal one and not much different from someone choosing to drive an SUV over a sedan, or sports car over a truck. There are many factors that go into such a choice: season in life, lifestyle, confidence level ... Some people choose to rely on others such as a family member, friend, colleague, or stranger to get from point A to point B. This is called sighted guide and is typically is done by holding on to a sighted person’s elbow, and can be especially helpful to me when maneuvering through a crowd or someplace I’m not familiar, even if I’m with my dog. Some people choose to use a cane, a long white stick. Some of us also choose to be creative and have canes in other colors, but I digress. The cane is absolutely a viable mobility aid and, when used properly, will indicate things like a change in surface, obstacles, and the all important, identifying you as someone who is blind, alerting drivers and those in the public with whom you may come into contact. You can even get a cane that folds up, which makes them very convenient. And then there are those who choose to partner with a guide dog. In a way, a dog brings the first two options together wrapped nicely into four paws, a tail, and two ears. The dog maneuvers you around obstacles, alerts you to steps, curbs, and other changes in the walking surface, can find learned targets such as doors, elevators and escalators, and more. And while in harness, a guide dog should certainly be an identifier to the public at large that you as the handler are blind. For me, though, a dog is so much more than a mobility aid. Balsa knows our routine and she’s grown to know me. When I’m not feeling well or am just having a bad day or moment, she snuggles up against me and reminds me it’s OK. Travel with her is so much smoother than with a cane. With a dog, obstacles are maneuvered around, often without me even knowing they’re there; with a cane I have to touch the obstacle to know it’s there to move around it. With a dog, moving objects can be detected without me ever encountering them because she sees the crowd, bike, or even the vehicle; not so with a cane. The luxury of having a guide dog carries a greater responsibility than something I can fold up and toss into my purse or place in the corner to forget about. My time is no longer my own. I have a living, breathing partner to care for. I have to awaken earlier to feed her and take her out in the morning and keep her on a schedule throughout the day. I have to buy her good quality food and carry her little kibble-sized treats with me wherever we go to reward her for her working for me. I have to take time to play with her, groom her daily, and provide her needed medical care. Sometimes, I have to defend her being with me to those who wish to deny me access because they do not like dogs or understand the law. And I do all of this and more because she deserves every bit of it! Bottom line: the decision to use a cane or guide dog is a personal one. The best choice for me right now is partnering with a guide dog. Thank goodness for choices and for my guide dog, Balsa! ***** Nikki, The Best Friend a Boy Ever Had by Ray Campbell I’m remembering a very special dog in my life. I grew up on a farm, and every farm has a farm dog. We had several during my childhood, but none as special as Nikki. Nikki was a German shepherd that we got from a neighbor in 1973, when I was 8. As we grew up together, Nikki realized there was something different about me, that I was blind. During his nearly 10 years of life, Nikki was almost always with me. Whether I was working in the garden, cleaning up chicken manure, or enjoying nature while riding my bike, there he was. Nikki came across to most people as a pretty quiet shepherd. He hardly ever barked. But if someone got to close to me, he’d be anything but quiet and reserved. My dad used to kid around like he was going to hurt me, and Nikki would whine at him like, you stop that. One time, someone was visiting us. Dad did that, then stepped back and said, “You try messing with him.” The person said, “I want to keep my arm.” Then there was the time my grandma put her arm around my shoulders. Nikki put his head right on her arm and barked as if to say, no, no, hands off! Now Nikki did all the stuff farm dogs do. At least once, he tangled with a skunk. Those were the only times I really didn’t want him sleeping on the floor by my bed. He got into the cockleburs, too. It was real fun keeping him still and pulling those out of his fur. He chased his share of cats and swam in the creek. He did something else kind of peculiar. He realized I was blind, but he laid right across the top of the open stairs going down from the second story of my parents’ farmhouse. Mom was always so afraid I’d trip right over him and go head over heels down the stairs. I don’t know why he liked to lay right there, but he always moved a little whenever I got close to him, letting me know he was there. See, he was looking out for me all along. I’ve often said I’d like to just delete the first three months of 1983 from history as if they never happened. First, I lost my paternal grandpa. Then, Nikki had a stroke and never walked again. The vet said if he didn’t come around in a couple weeks, we’d need to think about putting him down. My parents had made a bed for him in our basement. The vet had given us exercises to do with him to try to get him walking again. I stood at the top of the stairs and called to him to see if he’d try coming to me. I can’t quantify for you how hard that dog tried to get to me but couldn’t. That tore me right up. Later that night, he started howling. Both my parents went downstairs and talked to him, but he kept it up. I went down, petted and talked to him, and he stopped. It’s as if he wanted to see me and he didn’t care that it was the middle of the night. In March of 1983, two months after the stroke, we finally made the difficult decision to put Nikki down. We did it ourselves with a shotgun. My dad couldn’t bring himself to do it; my brother had to do it. While it was the best for him, it was still very sad. In fact, thinking back on that time, I have a few tears coming to my eyes. Dogs are called man’s best friend. Nikki was that to me. He was always there, had a lick for me whenever I came home from school or wherever, and was just a wonderful dog. Nikki, rest in peace, big boy! ***** Chosen by Charley by Rita Reese-Whiting My husband Ethan and I lived with my mother when Charley came into our lives. My mother lives about a mile up a state highway from a small truck stop just outside Fayetteville, Ark. It is a small neighborhood of just one long street, and it is not uncommon for people to abandon pets there. Over the years there has been a parade of cats, kittens, and even purebred dogs dumped. But Charley was different. In March and April of 2007 my mother was in Alabama, helping her older sister care for first her terminally ill son then her terminally ill brother-in-law. My husband and I had just gone back to school to pursue master’s degrees in teaching, so we stayed to take care of the property. One morning in late March I got up to let our little dog out and stopped in my tracks when I opened the curtain on the sliding door. There was a dirty blond dog lying with its back up against the glass. Little Bear growled, and the form lifted its head, peered in, and then nonchalantly resumed its nap. It acted as if it belonged there. I dashed down the hall and woke my husband by blurting out, “There’s a dog on the deck!” He tossed on some clothes and went to see. We stepped out and the dog got up, wagging its tail, very friendly and interactive. My husband examined the dog’s collar for tags, and then took a good look at it. He turned to me and said, “I think this is the dog that chased me on my bike when I was coming down 265 the other night.” Turning to the dog, he addressed him directly. “Are you Charley?” The dog wagged and wriggled. My husband remembered where the dog had chased him and hopped in the car to go tell the people their dog was at our house. While Ethan was gone, I held Charley with one of our extra leashes. He whined a little, and protested, turning odd, light hazel eyes up to me. He had stand-up triangle ears, and a half-inch triangle was missing from the right one. While I held the dog and waited for Ethan to return, I noticed he was very thin, and had multiple huge ticks attached. When he stood up to fidget I saw he was not just thin, he was a skeleton, and being an animal lover, my heart went out to him. My husband returned shortly and took the dog back. But that is not the end of the story. The next weekend we were mowing the yard and who should come trotting up, waving his curled tail but Charley. We stopped and petted him briefly, then tried to shoo him out of the way of the riding lawnmowers. He seemed reluctant to leave and perched on the deck until we were finished. When we went back inside, he disappeared back up the street in the direction of his house. This pattern repeated itself for four weeks, and we fed him whenever he showed up and put out a bowl of water. One Saturday we made the decision if he showed up again, we would keep him. My husband had spoken to the people he thought owned him, and they said the dog had shown up in their backyard about two months before, and they just gave him a little food when they fed their dogs. They said he seemed to like to be around people because they said he always sought out people when they were gone. Their granddaughter said the stray reminded her of the main character from the movie “All Dogs Go to Heaven” and named him Charley. Saturday morning came, and right on cue, Charley wandered up. He was not expecting what followed. My mother was due back in town the next day, and we needed to ask her permission to keep the dog since it was her house. We did not want her to see the dirty, matted, tick-infested dog, so we gave him a bath. My husband held him out in the yard and I scrubbed … and scrubbed. Charley was a Husky-German shepherd mix, with the light golden blond of the shepherd and the pointed ears and curly tail and double coat of the husky. As I scrubbed him, my heart hurt. Huge handfuls of hair came out, and his teeth chattered from the cold hose water. Once he was clean we dried him and shut him in the garage until my mother could see him. She had always wanted a husky, and he was so gentle we thought it would be a good fit. When she saw Charley, she thought he was pretty, and very large, which scared her. But she gave approval, contingent on a clean bill of health from the vet and on whether he could learn to get along with her cat, Tiger. Little Bear, who was about 8 at the time, tolerated him fine. She growled, a 15-pound little dog, and the 60-pound dog simply rolled over onto his back and presented her his belly. Tiger took a bit longer, but she, too, learned to live with him. Life with Charley was not easy those first few months. He had essentially lived wild for at least two months, and possibly more. After treatment for worms and good regular meals he filled out and his coat turned into a luxuriously soft, dense sheepskin. He exhibited signs of having been abused, flinching away from a raised hand and cowering when voices were raised. Ethan took him for obedience training, and this helped greatly, giving Charley more confidence. It was about this time that I began having vision problems, which were attributed to a previous disorder. But they weren’t. They were the first symptoms of the blood clot that caused my blindness five months later. We moved into our own place in September, right in the middle of my vision problems. My husband was gone all day, attempting to stay in school and complete his internship for the teaching program. The two dogs were comforting presences, always there when I cried. Little did I know that Charley was there for my husband to cry with when the demands of his wife going blind, my other medical issues, school, and internship, not to mention shouldering the entire household chores burden, became too much. When I went for basic independent living skills training in Little Rock, Charley was there for my husband for almost 6 months. Little Bear was there as well, but it was Charley who became Ethan’s shadow, and Charley who gave him a reason to get outside. Charley started coming with Ethan to Little Rock to pick me up when I had to come home for blood tests. The four-hour drive went faster with Charley’s blond head doing a chin rest on Ethan’s shoulder while he was driving. Between 2007 and 2010 I almost died three times from complications related to the initial blood clot and its treatment. Through it all, Charley was there, a patient, quiet, very unusual dog, comforting Ethan at night and keeping me company during the day. Charley grieved with us when we lost Little Bear at the ripe old age of 15. Shortly after her death Charley began shadowing me much like Little Bear had, and became more “mama’s dog” than he had been. For 11 years, the dog we saved graced our lives with his strength, compassion, loyalty, and silliness. He gave Ethan the confidence to leave on overnight trips and me the confidence to stay home alone. We knew Charley would protect me. Answering the door with my hand on the collar of a big, blond wolf-like dog that just stared intimidated most people. He charmed everyone with his good looks and mellow temper, and regally accepted pets and fuss from pizza delivery drivers and package delivery people. All who met him commented on how handsome he was, and what a good dog we had. He even brought us half a squirrel a couple times, dropping it proudly at my feet as if to say, “Look, Mama, look what I brought you!” When we took in and saved that tick-infested skeleton of a dog, we had no clue that he would in turn save us in the darkest time of our lives. Because we loved him so much, we had to make the difficult decision last August to let him go. After about 14 years on this earth, he got his angel wings and watches over us from above. Charley was truly a gift to us, and we will cherish his memories always. ***** Dog Days by Peter Altschul (Editor’s Note: This essay is included in Peter’s second book “Breaking It Down and Connecting the Dots,” available on BARD (DBC16304) or via www.peteraltschul.com.) “Labrador love! Labrador love! Labrador love!” chanted a crowd of Labradors of all sizes and hues at the Labrador convention of the Service Dogs of America. The chanting continued, with joyous panting, tail-waggings, and leaping about as their presidential candidate, a stocky middle-aged black Lab named Snuffles, approached the podium. “I humbly accept your nomination as the presidential candidate of the Labrador Party,” Snuffles said, tail wagging gently. “A true honor.” More cheering and chanting. “We Labradors are the backbone of the service dog community,” Snuffles continued. “We work hard, but we love to play. And eat.” A volley of laughing barks. “But, most importantly, we love. We love each other. We love humans. We love our enemies!” “Seriously?” snorted Hunter, an 80-pound multicolored standard poodle with the soul of a comedian. He raised his head from the couch he was occupying in the living room of a large house many miles from the convention chaos. “But we do love everyone!” said Heath from another couch in the same living room. Heath was a guide dog with the soul of a football player. “It’s one of the main reasons we Labs are so good at begging for food.” “But loving your enemies?” Hunter grunted. “I know that Jesus human told humans to love their enemies, but - …” “However,” Snuffles continued, his voice slightly raised. “There’s a time for honesty. So, I must seriously ask: how can our opponents have chosen a poodle named Fluffy as their nominee for president?” Howls of mirth. “I mean,” continued Snuffles, “we know all about poodles’ insistence that they get their own way. And they’re snobs, prancing about with their heads in the air.” More howls from the conventioneers. “But we want to be the poodle party, like we were 150 years ago. Isn’t it time that you poodles try something new? Vote for us, and in four years, ninety-five percent of you will vote for us.” “Labrador love!” cascaded through the hall. “Poodle pride! Poodle pride! Poodle pride!” chanted a crowd of standard poodles of all sizes and hues at the poodle convention of the Service Dogs of America. The chanting continued, with joyous panting, tail twitchings, and leaping about as their presidential candidate, a tall, youthful black standard poodle, approached the podium. “My name is Fluffy!” he boomed, tail twitching. “And I proudly accept your nomination as presidential candidate of the Poodle Party.” Poodles cheered, prancing in the aisles. “Sure, we’re new to the service dog scene,” he continued. “But we’re making great strides! We’re smarter and more motivated than those lazy Labradors.” “Lazy?” Heath asked, spread out on a king-sized bed. “And of course our heads are in the air,” Fluffy continued. “We can see what’s happening around us far more than those Labradors who have their noses to the ground. We’re poodles; we’re the best; and we know it!” Fluffy thundered. “Poodle pride! Poodle pride! Poodle pride!” “And how can those Labradors pretend to love everything and not call the problem for what it is!” Fluffy howled. “Radical human terrorists!” “Honestly!” Heath growled, springing off of the bed and snatching a sock from the floor. “But abusive humans do exist!” Hunter growled, grabbing the sock’s other end. “Love your enemies!” Heath taunted, the sock in his mouth muffling his words. “Not that again!” Hunter growled. “Everyone knows we’re smarter, more agile, more alert.” “You poodles are too smart for your own good,” Heath countered, shaking his head from side to side. “You’re just too doggone antisocial.” “Well, one thing’s for sure,” Hunter said. “You’re not a coward like Snuffles.” “What?” Heath asked, accidentally letting go of the sock. “You criticized my breed face to face, not in front of a crowd of cultish fans.” “Fluffy did the same thing,” Heath pointed out. “I wonder what they’re protecting.” “Their egos?” Hunter pondered, head in the air, the sock still dangling from his mouth. “Perhaps we could challenge Snuffles and Fluffy to make their remarks away from their followers,” Heath suggested, his nose to the floor. “No, they’re both cowards,” Hunter grunted. “But we could do it.” “What?” Heath asked, alert. “We could talk about our lives together,” Hunter said, a gleam in his eye. “How we’ve learned to work as a team to manipulate our humans.” So Hunter, using his comedic genius, had Labradors howling in the aisles as he described how he opened the refrigerator door so that Heath can grab choice bits of food; how they ran with glee to another room and devoured their plunder, leaving shreds of package for humans to clean up. Heath, harnessing his football smarts, talked about how it was OK to be with your own kind, but that teamwork could do far more than working alone. “We can win the game against humans with much less effort,” Heath said, his voice raw with emotion, “when we work together.” “Woof, WOOF!” barked the poodles. When the election came around, a coalition of Labradors and poodles elected Ace, an elderly, dignified golden retriever, as president. ***** Don’t Let These Dog Days Get You Down! Refreshment for the Dog Days of Summer by Penny Reeder I know how challenging these mid-August weeks of haze, heat and humidity can be. You feel like a limp noodle, sapped of energy, trying to remember what it used to feel like when you felt comfortable! Let me provide some easy and delicious refreshments for you and your guide dog, and you won’t even have to turn on a burner or the oven! First, however, on my guide dog Willow’s behalf, I just want to remind you that the title of “dog days,” which some insensitive humans have labeled this hottest part of summer, actually has nothing to do with dogs! Earth-bound dogs are just as uncomfortable as we people are. (Hence the homemade Frosty Paws recipe below.) Ancient Greeks and Romans noticed that the star Sirius, also known as the dog star, Canis Major in the Orion constellation, began to rise during the hottest part of the summer, and so they called these days the Dog Days of Summer! Help your dog weather this weather with your own version of homemade Frosty Paws! In your blender, combine 1 large (32 ounces) container of plain or vanilla yogurt, a ripe (or over-ripe banana), 2 (heaping) tablespoons of peanut butter, and 3 tablespoons of honey. Whirl it around until it’s all smooth and satiny, then pour into ice cube trays, freeze for at least a couple of hours, then remove the cubes to a freezer-safe container, and serve, one cube at a time please, to happy waggy-tailed pups! And, for you, and everyone you know who loves to eat, make gazpacho! This recipe is based on one from Jose Andres, our local treasured chef and humanitarian. Jose, in turn, gives credit to his wife, Patricia. No matter whom you thank for this delicious cold soup – and why not thank all of us? – you’re sure to enjoy its refreshing deliciousness from the moment ripe tomatoes come onto the scene, well into the fall. Again, no need to turn on the stove, and you don’t even have to peel the tomatoes! In blender container, combine: 2 pounds ripe red tomatoes (about 10 plum tomatoes, cores cut out, and tomatoes quartered); 1 red bell pepper, cored and seeded and roughly chopped; 1 cucumber, peeled if not organic, and cut into chunks; 1 garlic clove, peeled and minced; and 1 tablespoon sherry vinegar. Blend until the mixture becomes a thick liquid. Taste for acidity. If it’s tasting too bland, add a little more sherry vinegar. (Don’t substitute any other kind of vinegar. Gazpacho is a Spanish creation, and much of its deliciousness comes from the sherry vinegar.) Add 3/4 cup good-quality olive oil, and season with salt. Blend again until smooth, taste again for seasoning and acidity. Now, pour it into a pitcher, and store in your fridge. Jose suggests pouring the soup through a strainer placed atop your pitcher, but, honestly, I have never felt the need to do this. It’s up to you, though. Now, prepare your garnishes: In a tablespoon of hot olive oil, fry 2 or 3 slices of good-quality white bread. When toasty, break the bread into rough quarters to make croutons. Put four of these into the bottom of four soup bowls. Add several chunks of cucumber to the bowls, and, if you like, drizzle them with olive oil (just a drop or so). Now add a chive or two to each bowl, or the top of a green onion, broken into several pieces. Add 3 or 4 cherry or grape tomatoes, cut in half and sprinkled with salt. Now, pour in the chilled soup, and garnish the top of each bowl with one more drizzle of olive oil. Come to the table, lift your spoons, and, guaranteed, soon you’ll forget all about the unpleasantness of these dog days of summer! ***** Doggone Good by Ann Chiappetta Good dog Guide dog Love what you do Cool dog Goofy boy So much respect for you Yellow dog Poochie-poo with a big brown nose Steps out, Nostrils flared Catching Air-scented code. Guide dog Good dog There’s so much we do In you There is acceptance loyalty My moods don’t have you fooled Big dog Bigger heart Grateful to be a pair Stepping out I want to shout I trust in your care. Good dog Guide dog My heart is full Love you To the moon and back. Glad to be matched with you. ***** Bite-Size Dog Tales Don’t have time for some of the longer dog stories in this issue? Here are a few short stories to savor. * Retiring My Leash Hi, I’m Praline. I’m a yellow lab guide five years old. And I want to tell you that I have a new leash. It’s nice and stiff, and it’s mine. But it’s not the same. It’s the end of an era. You’ve probably had to replace your leash, but this is much more than that to me. I’m the 6th guide dog for my person Deb. I guess dogs 1 and 2 got their own leashes from the school, but soon after dog 3 came, Deb and her housemate Ann moved to our big house in Seattle. That was 28 years ago. Because they had double-bolted locks, they decided to put their house keys on their dogs’ leashes for convenience. Deb’s dad used a steel cable to attach them. And they were indeed attached. When dog 4 came, they discovered that it would be nearly impossible to remove the keys. So she got the leash and dog 3 retired with dog 4’s leash. Same with dog 5, and then to me, dog 6. That’s all well and good except that all of us, including me of course, have chewed on that wonderful leash. We all thought it should have our initials carved into it with our teeth. That much chewing is hard on leather, I guess. Well, the inevitable happened. We were on our way to the state Guide Dog Users Spring Fling when Deb pulled sharply on my leash because I was distracted. And she broke it. My leash was now in two pieces, one attached to me. I was so shocked, I didn’t even bolt for it. We rushed to a small-town hardware store where they all gathered around and determined how to staple my leash. Actually it’s probably the biggest event there in the last 30 years or so. I’m surprised it didn’t make the papers. They all agreed it was a temporary solution and I must have a new leash right away. Just like that, they were going to retire our official leash. When we got home, Dad made a valiant effort and finally removed the keys. Then they gave me my new leash and admired how beautiful it looked on me. But it’s not the same. It’s ironic that just a few months before we’d moved from that wonderful house in Seattle, and now my leash has retired too after serving all of us dogs since 1991. So give your leash a good chew for me, and remember to otherwise treat it well! — Praline (Deb Cook Lewis’ dog) * I Scream, You Scream … Five hours after returning home with my first guide dog, we went on our first exploratory walk together, my dad trailing several feet behind. On our return home, I heard a kid squeal and run toward us, but my dog kept right on going. “Good girl!” I said. When my dad caught up with us as we were turning into our driveway, he told me that my dog had snatched an entire ice cream cone out of that squealing child’s hand — without breaking stride. “Why didn’t the kid scream or something?” I asked, a bit embarrassed. “It happened so fast she was too shocked to scream,” he said, trying hard not to laugh. Thus began my adventures with my first guide dog, a Weimaraner named Heidi. — Peter Altschul ***** From the Archives Mehitabel, A Cat for All Seasons by Harriet Fielding (Editor’s Note: This article originally appeared in the March-April 1987 issue of “The Braille Forum.” With all the dog stories in this issue, I thought the cats deserved a mention too. My two cats, Zoe (an orange tabby) and Hackensack (a black-and-tan tabby), concurred.) After living with me, a blind person, sleek, elegant, long-legged Mehitabel Fielding has been gone for more than a year now. Known to those who loved her as Mitty, her bright blue eyes, like twin headlights on a dark night, are still a picture in my visual imagination. Time passes, and I can talk freely about Mitty with my friends, and even smile fondly, remembering her antics when playing or hiding for hours in a kitchen cupboard, making no sound, while I searched frantically for her. Mitty was a seal point, typical Siamese cat, with a coat of many shades of brown, ranging from a dark brown face and ears to chocolate brown and creamy beige. Beautiful and elegant as Siamese cats are, their loud, raucous meow can become annoying to some individuals, I know. To me, totally blind, her noisiness was a definite plus. When basking in the sun on the patio, with mealtime rolling around, she would order me to let her into the house, her strident meow never failing to get my attention. However, I had some difficulty in knowing whether she had come through the door. But when I asked, “Mitty, are you in?” she would inform me she was inside with a meow indicating, “Certainly I’m in, you idiot!” My 19 years of living with Mitty were seldom dull. We had good times and bad times together, but we readily forgave each other for the bad times. Most of the time, I believe, she had more for which to forgive me than I for her. For example, there was the time I shut her in the clothes dryer and turned it on. I had been transferring wet clothes from the washer to the dryer and had not heard her come out to the porch. I heard her agonized meow and a thump as the dryer started turning. I hastily opened the door. Mitty jumped out and scuttled back to the kitchen to hide in the broom closet for the rest of the day. This was an accident when “curiosity nearly killed the cat.” Another incident when curiosity nearly killed the cat was the time Mitty was shut in the neighbor’s garage from Friday to Monday. She slipped into the garage when they were loading their car for a weekend trip and was still investigating her surroundings when they closed and locked the garage door and drove away. Needless to say, after she had been gone for two nights, I supposed she had been either killed in an accident or had been stolen. I was so grief-stricken I could hardly bring myself to go to work on Monday morning. I returned home on Monday afternoon, my head hanging, shambling along, hating every step I took to reach the empty house. I was almost there when I heard hoarse meows coming from Mitty, sitting forlornly on the steps, waiting for me to come home. A cat with laryngitis! It took several days for her to recover her voice. I learned later that when the neighbors opened their garage door, Mitty skinned by them so fast she was just a blur half a block away before they realized what had happened. Mitty forgave the neighbors in due time, but thereafter approached their garage as cautiously as she did the clothes dryer. Despite her troubles and woes with her blind mistress, Mitty loved me, I know, in her Siamese cat way. I loved her, too! I shall never forget the anguish I felt on that last day when I took her to the veterinarian for the injection which would end her suffering. I still miss her – Mehitabel – truly a cat for all seasons. ***** If Leaders Behaved Like Boy Scouts by Larry P. Johnson Reprinted from “The San Antonio Express-News,” June 1, 2019. (Editor’s Note: Larry P. Johnson is an author and motivational speaker. He is available for luncheon talks or workshop presentations. You can contact him via email at larjo1@prodigy.net, or visit his website at www.mexicobytouch.com.) Some 70 years ago, I was a Boy Scout back in Chicago. It was a troop comprised entirely of blind and visually impaired Scouts — Troop 300. Even our scoutmaster was visually impaired. I loved the camaraderie, learning Morse code and first aid, and the two-week summer camp in the Wisconsin woods. I memorized and still remember the Scout Oath and the 12 Scout Laws. “A Scout is trustworthy, loyal, helpful, friendly, courteous, kind, obedient, cheerful, thrifty, brave, clean and reverent.” That was a lot for a boy to live up to, and it still is today. But those are the rules and guidelines that we, as a society, understand are necessary for normal human relations. As we get ready to listen to the promises and pledges of the scores of political candidates running for elected office, I am wondering just how many of them — male or female — might past the test of endorsing and upholding even half of these principles. Clarke Green, director at Camp Horseshoe, a Scout camp in Kennet Square, Pa., and a scoutmaster for over 30 years, writes that although all 12 laws are equally important, four are the very “heart of the law” because they “define the basics of how we interact with each other.” These are: helpful, friendly, courteous, kind. A Scout is helpful — he cares about other people. He willingly volunteers to help others without expecting payment or reward. A Scout is friendly — a friend to all. He offers his friendship to people of all races and nations, and respects them even if their beliefs and customs are different from his own. A Scout is courteous — polite to everyone regardless of age or position. He knows that using good manners makes it easier for people to get along. A Scout is kind. He treats others as he wants to be treated. This is a great set of core values to live by. I would add one more to Green’s short list — trustworthy. To quote from the website BoyScoutTrail.com, “A Scout is trustworthy. A Scout tells the truth. He is honest, and he keeps his promises. People can depend on him.” The words “on my honor,” from the Scout Oath, are tremendously important to a Scout because his “honor” is what he holds up to scrutiny to ensure that he can be trusted. May we not ask — no, demand — of all candidates running for public office that they pledge their commitment to uphold these principles? To really care about and respect other people even if their beliefs and customs are different from theirs, that they be civil and courteous in their discourse and manner toward those with whom they may disagree, and that they treat others as they themselves would want to be treated and, above all, that they speak to us with honesty and truth? If those whom we elect at the local, state and national levels possess these qualities and follow these principles, good policies and good legislation will follow. Whether it’s health care, immigration, climate change, education or jobs, the answers and solutions can be found if we are careful to choose leaders who are willing to trust one another and be respectful of the ideas and opinions of their colleagues and, most importantly, who care deeply not only about the issues but about the people whose lives will be impacted by the decisions that they make. And that’s how I see it. ***** A Night at the Opera by Kelsey Nicolay In the spring of my sophomore year of college, I had the opportunity to participate in an opera class offered by the music department. I had heard some of my friends talking about it, so I decided to look into it further. I contacted my choir director about it. She explained that the class was designed to introduce students to operatic literature and would culminate in a performance of scenes from various operas. Since I was not a music major and most of my previous singing experience was choral, I wasn’t sure whether I would fit in in the class, but I decided to sign up anyway. I contacted the instructor ahead of time and explained my visual impairment as well as any accommodations I might need. She assured me that she would work with me to make sure I had everything I needed to be successful. The first day of class was spent going over the syllabus, getting to know one another, and getting the music we would be working on. Then each student was asked to sing a piece so the instructor could determine which role best suited each participant. Since I was not a voice major, I did not have a piece prepared, but the instructor just had me vocalize for her so she could get an idea of my voice quality and range. Since I had very limited solo singing experience and was very shy about singing in front of others, as everyone sang through their pieces, I kept thinking “what have I gotten myself into?” I wasn’t worried about singing as much as I worried about the movement that would be required on stage. I had to remind myself that I had done choreography in high school choir and that I could conquer this. Fortunately, I was only in two group numbers with minimal movement. Adaptations for the course were very minimal. I was given the syllabus, rehearsal schedule, and any other needed documents electronically so I could read them using JAWS and my BrailleNote. Since I had not yet learned braille music, the disability services office typed up the lyrics to the songs I needed and emailed them to me. I then used the Perkins brailler to type them out so I would have a hard copy available. I was able to find recordings of the pieces for reference as well, but the instructor as well as my classmates were willing to work with me one on one when needed. I kept in close communication with the instructor throughout the semester to make sure I had all the necessary materials and to discuss logistics when it came time to learn the movement for the particular scene I was in. When it came time to learn the choreography, I was a little nervous after some negative experiences in the past where someone stood behind me and moved my arms during performance. When I shared my past experience with the instructor, she assured me that would not happen and made sure other students understood that they were not to do any of the movements for me. When the other students were learning the movements, the instructor came over and quickly showed me what to do and had me practice it while she observed to make sure I knew what I was doing, then left me to perform the routine with everyone else. When I made a mistake, a classmate noticed it immediately and corrected me. The instructor did briefly stop rehearsal to see what was going on, but my classmate told her that they had handled the situation and she could continue with rehearsal. This demonstrated that other students knew that I was capable of participating and did not need help performing the arm movements. The performance went really well, and everyone in the audience commented after the performance how well I had done. They said I fit right in with the group, which is exactly what I wanted. I decided not to sign up again the following years, but at least I tried something new and was successful. The most important lesson I learned from this experience is to have a positive attitude. Though at times the class was challenging, the experience paid off. As a result, two of the participants eventually were my voice teachers, which probably would not have happened had I not stepped out of my comfort zone and signed up for the opera class. ***** Need a Lift? Is Lyft the Way to Go? by Carl Jarvis If it were not for some outspoken, brave spokespersons in the field of work for the disabled, we, and our needs, would be ignored. Especially we blind people. We truly are the “invisible minority.” But we will only be victims if we continue to act like victims. Fortunately, we belong to a strong national organization that knows the value of building strong state organizations and extending its roots deep into the towns and rural communities where most of us live. As one who lived nearly 60 years in the metropolitan Seattle sprawl, and escaped to live for the past 25 years as a contented country bumpkin, I fully understand the need for reliable, inexpensive transportation. I am equally aware of the need for taxi drivers to earn a living wage. And, just for the record, my sympathies are mostly with the cabbies, since I am also a member of the working class. But regardless of where we come from, can we agree that the solution is not one of solving the transportation needs of the disabled by undercompensating the thousands of drivers who are themselves feeling a financial crisis? Perhaps the Lyft board of directors believed that there were large numbers of retired people just looking for something to do to while away their retirement years. And I’m sure such people do exist. But far and away are those people who have been retired or displaced, but still need additional income to make ends meet. As often happens with desperate people, they hear what they want to hear. Lyft made a good sales pitch, and many folks, with their backs to the wall, bought it as the solution to their financial problems. While we might debate how matters came to the present crisis, the fact is that the drivers learned that their expectations were unfounded. They learned the difference between employees and contractors the hard way. Sadly, there is another old adage that they had to revisit. It goes, “Them what’s got, gits.” While the drivers are struggling to make ends meet as costs for doing business rise, the Lyft board members are busy dividing up millions of dollars among themselves. It is not my purpose in this article to debate whether this is fair. Obviously the board members believe it to be their just returns. But my concern is why it always seems to come down to the needy being pitted against the downtrodden. In my mind, we need to try another approach to solving the transportation needs of the disabled. It’s obvious that the for-profit approach is running into rough seas, the same as the established taxi services have experienced. By way of setting up my “solution” so you all buy in, I would point out that we are all taxpayers. Whether we pay income taxes or not, each time we spend money, some of it finds its way back to our government. Secondly, that government is our government, too. Our government is set in place in order to meet certain needs that we cannot provide on an individual basis. We pay for public schools, fire and police protection, public utilities, and on and on, whether we use them or not. We, the disabled people, have paid a share of the public services, for the good of all citizens. Therefore, as full participating citizens, should we not have the same access to public transportation as is afforded all able-bodied citizens? We disabled folk did not create a society dependent on a need for personal transportation. We disabled citizens want to be full participating members in our work force, enabling ourselves the ability to earn a decent living and to pay our own way. In order to do this, we need low-cost public transportation, available when we need it, to take us where we need to go in a timely way. And there is only one way to cover such a cost: government subsidy. A door-to-door transportation service for disabled citizens, paid by all of us, in order to ensure that all of us are able to exercise our right to be first-class citizens. ***** Affiliate and Committee News ** Texas State Convention in Austin ACB of Texas will hold its state convention Aug. 15-18 at the Omni Austin Southpark, 4041 Governor’s Row, Austin, TX 78741; phone (512) 448-2222. It features a tour of the Texas capital on Friday, as well as tours to the Travis Association for the Blind and the Lighthouse of Austin, a leadership forum, and an auction, among many other events. For more information, or to register, go to http://www.acbtexas.org/2019%20conference/2019%20conference.html. ** Membership Focus Calls Grab your calendars and save the dates for the upcoming Membership Committee “Membership Focus” calls. The topic for the call on Monday, Aug. 26 at 8:30 p.m. Eastern/5:30 p.m. Pacific will be how to involve students in your affiliates/chapters. In the fall, on Sunday, Oct. 27 at 8 p.m. Eastern/5 p.m. Pacific, the topic will be how to actively engage at-large members in your affiliates. The call-in number is (712) 775-7000 and the passcode is 640009. If you have questions, contact Ardis Bazyn at (818) 238-9321 or via email, abazyn@bazyncommunications.com. ** North Carolina Convention The North Carolina Council of the Blind will hold its state convention Sept. 20-22 at the Best Western Plus Burlington, 770 Huffman Mill Rd., Burlington, NC 27215. For more information, visit https://nccbinfo.org/events/. ** Oklahoma Celebrates 100 This year, the Oklahoma Council of the Blind will celebrate its 100th anniversary! Oklahoma’s state convention will be held Sept. 20-22 at the DoubleTree by Hilton Hotel Tulsa-Warren Place. For more information, call the OCB office at 1-877-578-6212. ***** Here and There edited by Sharon Strzalkowski The announcement of products and services in this column does not represent an endorsement by the American Council of the Blind, its officers, or staff. Listings are free of charge for the benefit of our readers. “The ACB E-Forum” cannot be held responsible for the reliability of the products and services mentioned. To submit items for this column, send a message to slovering@acb.org, or phone the national office at 1-800-424-8666, and leave a message in Sharon Lovering’s mailbox. Information must be received at least two months ahead of publication date. ** Breaking News from Oregon Thanks to the hard work of the Oregon Council of the Blind, pharmacies in Oregon will soon be required to notify patients about the availability of a prescription reader, provide the reader to individuals who are blind or visually impaired and make sure labels are compatible with the reader. The state legislature passed the bill on June 6th; it is on its way to the governor’s desk to be signed into law! Oregon is now the second state to have passed a law requiring accessible prescriptions. To read the text of the new law, visit https://olis.leg.state.or.us/liz/2019R1/Downloads/MeasureDocument/HB2935/B-Engrossed. If you’d like your state to be next, contact En-Vision America at 1-800-890-1180 to find out how. ** NLS Name Change NLS has received final approval from the Librarian of Congress to change its name. Beginning on Oct. 1, its name will change officially to “National Library Service for the Blind and Print Disabled,” though it will continue to be referred to by the abbreviation NLS. Visit https://www.loc.gov/strategic-plan/ to learn more about the Library’s “user-centered” goal in the strategic plan. ** Prizes Awarded Lighthouse Guild recently announced that Dr. Vladimir Kefalov is the recipient of the 2019 Bressler Prize for his outstanding advances in vision science research. Dr. Kefalov’s work has generated new insights into mechanisms of multiple human vision disorders, including the causes of photoreceptor dysfunction and degeneration, which affect color and night vision, that are spurring treatments for vision loss. Dr. Kefalov is a Professor in the Department of Ophthalmology & Visual Sciences, and the Department of Neuroscience, at Washington University School of Medicine in St. Louis, Mo. Tiffany Schmidt, PhD, is the recipient of the 2019 Pisart Award for her significant contributions to the field of vision science. Her work in sensory research and circadian biology is advancing the understanding of adult retinal function and retinal development. Dr. Schmidt is an Assistant Professor in the Department of Neurobiology and Associate Director of the Neurobiology Master’s Program at Northwestern University in Evanston, Ill. ** Xavier Society Goes Digital The Xavier Society for the Blind has just completed the conversion to digital talking book format. And the society has added some popular titles on cartridge to its library! Its catalog contains more than 1,700 braille and audio titles. One of Xavier’s primary objectives is to choose new titles which will appeal to a larger audience. Adding titles in Spanish is a key objective as well. For more information, including how to register for our materials, go to xaviersocietyfortheblind.org or call 1-800-637-9193. ** AFB Honors Two Two Mississippi State University leaders are being recognized with prestigious honors from the American Foundation for the Blind for their impactful work in the blindness and low vision field. Elton Moore, retired MSU College of Education associate dean and professor who also is a former director of the MSU-based National Research and Training Center on Blindness and Low Vision, and Michele McDonnall, current NRTC director and MSU research professor, accepted two of the organization’s highest awards. Moore said receiving the Migel Medal — the highest honor in the blindness field — is among the most significant achievements of his career. A pre-eminent leader in the blindness field over the last quarter century, Moore’s leadership of MSU’s then Rehabilitation Research and Training Center included oversight of considerable research related to the employment of people with vision loss. The Corinne Kirchner Research Award honors individuals whose leadership and dedication illuminate the most pressing needs of people with vision loss through timely, innovative and authoritative research. McDonnall, who has been NRTC director for eight years, serves as the principal investigator of multiple projects for the 2015-2020 Rehabilitation Research and Training Center grant on Employment for Individuals with Blindness or Other Visual Impairments from NIDILRR. ** AAPD’s New President and CEO Maria Town has been selected as AAPD’s new president & CEO. Ms. Town, a well-recognized disability rights advocate, began her new job on July 15, 2019. She previously served as the Director of the City of Houston Mayor’s Office for People with Disabilities. ** New from NBP Newly available from National Braille Press is “The Sound of Silence,” by Katrina Goldsaito and Julia Kuo. It comes in contracted UEB braille for preschoolers and up. “Grumpy Monkey” by Suzanne Lang and Max Lang is the newest book in the Great Expectations series. It comes as a print-and-braille book for ages 3 to 8. Jim Panzee – the chimpanzee – is in a terrible mood, and his friends can’t understand why. See if you can figure out why by the end of this book. Also available is “Days Like This” by Simon James. It’s a print-and-braille picture book celebrating such things as the fun of sleeping outdoors, picnicking on the beach, bouncing on the bed, etc. Newly available is “She Persisted: 13 American Women Who Changed the World,” by Chelsea Clinton and Alexandra Boiger. It’s available in contracted UEB for ages 4 to 10. The book celebrates 13 American women who helped shape our country by speaking out, by staying seated, and sometimes by captivating an audience: Harriet Tubman, Helen Keller, Clara Lemlich, Nellie Bly, Virginia Apgar, Maria Tallchief, Claudette Colvin, Ruby Bridges, Margaret Chase Smith, Sally Ride, Florence Griffith Joyner, Oprah Winfrey, and Sonia Sotomayor. For more information on any of these books, call NBP toll-free at 1-800-548-7323, or visit www.nbp.org/ic/nbp/publications/index.html. ***** Are We in the Doghouse for This Themed Issue of ‘The ACB E-Forum?’ by Ron Brooks In 2018, the ACB Board of Publications introduced a new concept for the ACB E-Forum. June’s theme was multicultural and diversity. August’s theme is “The Dog Days of Summer.” Our goal is to create a richer conversation, hear from more voices and perhaps some new writers as well. We think themed issues of the ACB E-Forum are a good thing. Do you agree? To find out, we are including three questions at the end of each E-Forum, and we invite you to provide your answers to ACB Editor Sharon Lovering. You will find the questions, and Sharon’s information, below. 1. How would you rate the overall quality of this edition of the ACB E-Forum? o Excellent o Good o Fair o Poor 2. List one thing we could have done that would have made this edition of the ACB E-Forum better. 3. Do you have any ideas for future ACB E-Forum themes? You can provide your responses to Editor Sharon Lovering: • By email - slovering@acb.org • By phone - (202) 467-5081 We will use your feedback to make refinements to our theme-based approach for the ACB E- Forum. Thanks for reading our ACB Braille Forum and E-Forum magazines. You are the reason the BOP exists, and we look forward to serving you in the best way possible. ***** ACB Officers * President Kim Charlson (3rd term, 2019) 57 Grandview Ave. Watertown, MA 02472 * First Vice President Dan Spoone (1st term, 2019) 3924 Lake Mirage Blvd. Orlando, FL 32817-1554 * Second Vice President John McCann (2nd term, 2019) 8761 E. Placita Bolivar Tucson, AZ 85715-5650 * Secretary Ray Campbell (3rd term, 2019) 460 Raintree Ct. #3K Glen Ellyn, IL 60137 * Treasurer David Trott (1st term, 2019) 1018 East St. S. Talladega, AL 35160 * Immediate Past President Mitch Pomerantz 1115 Cordova St. #402 Pasadena, CA 91106 ** ACB Board of Directors Jeff Bishop, Kirkland, WA (1st term, 2020) Denise Colley, Lacey, WA (1st term, 2020) Sara Conrad, Madison, WI (2nd term, 2020) Dan Dillon, Hermitage, TN (1st term, 2020) Katie Frederick, Worthington, OH (2nd term, 2022) James Kracht, Miami, FL (1st term, 2022) Doug Powell, Falls Church, VA (1st term, 2020) Patrick Sheehan, Silver Spring, MD (2nd term, 2022) Michael Talley, Hueytown, AL (1st term, 2022) Jeff Thom, Sacramento, CA (1st term, 2022) Ex Officio: Debbie Lewis, Seattle, WA ** ACB Board of Publications Ron Brooks, Chair, Phoenix, AZ (3rd term, 2019) Paul Edwards, Miami, FL (2nd term, 2020) Susan Glass, Saratoga, CA (2nd term, 2019) Debbie Lewis, Seattle, WA (2nd term, 2020) Penny Reeder, Montgomery Village, MD (1st term, 2020) Ex Officios: Katie Frederick, Worthington, OH Bob Hachey, Waltham, MA Berl Colley, Lacey, WA ***** Accessing Your ACB Braille and E-Forums The ACB E-Forum may be accessed by email, on the ACB web site, via download from the web page (in Word, plain text, or braille-ready file), or by phone at (605) 475-8154. To subscribe to the email version, visit the ACB email lists page at www.acb.org. The ACB Braille Forum is available by mail in braille, large print, digital cartridge, and via email. It is also available on ACB’s web page, and by phone, (605) 475-8154. Subscribe to the podcast versions from your 2nd generation Victor Reader Stream or from http://acb.org/braille-forum.