March 29

As I write this, a new class of blind students is arriving at the Seeing Eye in Morristown, NJ. They are ready and eager to be matched with dogs that will become their eyes, giving them independence and dignity. Will one of those students get my Telly?

Last night I had another horrible dream that Telly was rejected. Apparently this has been on my mind.

Wheaton College - where all the women are strong, all the men are good looking, and everyone is above average

It's been over two weeks since I last posted. The longer I go without writing, the harder it becomes. I feel as if my new post must be absolutely brilliant to make up for the dearth of posts up to then. This naturally stymies the writing process, since nothing I think about is particularly brilliant.

Yesterday I ran into Henry Shuffle, the admissions counselor who interviewed me. He remembered that I used to raise puppies and inquired after Telly! Seeing him reminded me of the admissions process. Sometimes, no, often, I think it's remarkable that I'm here at Wheaton. Did you know that Wheaton's undergraduate acceptance rate is lower than the University of Chicago's? It's true. I always feel like I belong here, but I often feel like I'm different from other Wheaton students. Maybe it's also true that I'm here because my parents donate to the alumni foundation!

Wheaton students are typically labeled as "type A" personalities - ambitious, energetic, and competitive. They are also incisive, articulate, and confident. I don't fit the mold. Amidst such talented, sometimes intimidating, people, it can be hard for me to remember that my worth as a human being isn't determined by how many extra extra-curricular activities I'm involved in any more than it's determined by my GPA. Neither are loud, outgoing people of more importance than quiet, reserved people. (Even if they're more likely to be dekes!) This is a tough one, I know.

I'm frustrated with my incompetence at critical thinking, my ignorance of important social issues, and especially my inability to form and defend an opinion. I'm scared to commit, worried that my opinion might be foolish or unorthodox or unbiblical. I wonder if in some ways going to TCS made me a weaker thinker because I passively trusted what I was taught and rarely needed to defend one of my latent beliefs. So now I am quiet, grateful that "even a fool seems wise if he keeps his mouth shut."

The only good thing to be said is that I am not content with this state of my mind. I'm ignorant and ashamed. And I have a hunger to know the Bible, to be steeped in Scripture, stronger than I ever did in high school. Proverbs says those who seek wisdom diligently find it. I don't need to stay a fool.

Perhaps I'm glum because it is March 27 and snowing heavily.

Telly's Town Walk

Yesterday I watched Telly working in harness and met her instructor, Brian. My mind and heart are so overflowing with thoughts and emotions that writing is even harder than usual. I wish I could remember every moment of that walk forever. Instead I will only have a few pictures and my own stilted sentences to try to capture the culmination of months of focused work.

For those of you who don't know what a town walk is, here's a little background information. Seeing eye puppies return to the Seeing Eye in Morristown for training when they are about eighteen months old. Each puppy will go through thorough medical examinations, including x-rays to test for hip dysplasia. The dogs that pass the examinations will be assigned to an instructor who is training a string of 10-12 dogs, each at different stages in training. After two months of training, a dog will have a blindfold test and the instructor will send a postcard updating the raisers on their pup's progress. (You can read what Brian wrote about Telly here.) At any point in the training, a dog can be rejected and put up for adoption. When the dog has completed just over three months of training and is considered ready for class (meaning ready to be matched and trained with a blind person), the Seeing Eye invites puppy raisers into Morristown to watch their dog working in harness and talk with the dog's instructor. If all goes well, the dog may be matched with a blind person in the class that arrives a few weeks after the town walk. If there is no suitable match in that class, the dog can wait in the kennel for the next class. Dogs that are dropped from training because they aren't fit for guide work or can't be matched will undergo a "career change". This is the "nice" term for rejection. Call it what you like - changing the name doesn't lesson the blow. It's still heart rending. As I well know, a successful town walk is no guarantee that a dog will graduate.

The town walk is one of the highlights of puppy raising. The experience of watching the crazy puppy you raised, calmly and confidently guide her instructor defies words. Telly's work was flawless. We followed her, spellbound.

A Seeing Eye volunteer, Roger, who has raised twenty-four puppies, was our host for the walk. He met with Telly's instructor, Brian, before the walk to learn if Brian had an particular concerns. Then he walked with us, telling us about the work that Telly was doing. We weren't allowed to greet Telly and had to stay several yards behind her so she wouldn't be too distracted by our familiar scent and voices. I took lots of pictures. I think she looks positively regal with her harness on.

Telly guided Brian perfectly around the streets of Morristown. She is walking to the left of the sidewalk so he can be as far away from the cars as possible. We watched her guide him around obstructions in the sidewalk, around an open grate, and away from an overhanging sign so he wouldn't hit his head.

At this point, we got to walk on the opposite side of the street for a different view. The town walk is always the same route, and we always stop here for pictures.

Telly stopped at every curb to warn Brian that they had reached the street. After they crossed, she stopped at the curb on the other side of the street.

We watched Telly successfully perform some "traffic checks". Brian gave Telly the forward command, but she exercised "intelligent disobedience" and halted when she saw a car was coming. At one point when she was walking on the sidewalk she halted for a car that was wanting to turn off the street into the parking lot in front of her. I was so proud of her - I hadn't even noticed the car!

Here Brian praises her for a beautifully done traffic check. He says she's a very serious, focused worker. He hardly ever gets so much as a wag from her - she justs wants to keep on working.

This isn't a particularly good picture, but it makes me proud because it shows how seriously she's taking her job. She isn't distracted by the children in front of her. When I had her, she wasn't always able to ignore other people. Sometimes she thought they were "potential petters", or other times she thought they were sketchy characters that she needed to protect me from. And she was never able to ignore other dogs. That was my most serious concern. Unless a miracle happened, I thought she would be rejected after a couple weeks of training. But a miracle has occurred. It's amazing and mysterious and wonderful. Again and again, I marvel at the work the Seeing Eye does. During the town walk, a little, yappy dog walked right in front of her. She did nothing more than glance at it. I can't begin to describe how much that means to me.

Her work was perfect. Nothing distracted her.

Someday may she guide a blind person as confidently and capably as she's guiding Brian!

Brian and Telly

Roger, our host, held Telly while we talked with Brian.

Brian held Telly at rest so Roger could take a picture of just her. She kept turning her head back to see us. I think she recognized us.

I wish I could remember every word that Brian said about Telly. I wish he could understand how deeply grateful I am for the work he has done. How much I've dreamed about this moment. How much I long to hear that she has graduated. Brian said that Telly is ready for class. The next class arrives on March 29, and he has a couple individuals in mind as potential matches. Telly won't the the easiest match because she walks quite slowly. An older person will probably match her pace best, but it will have to be an active old person, because she's intelligent and will need more than a trip to church each Sunday to keep her attention. Brian is also training Telly's brother, Thor, who was in my club. They are kennel mates. He said they are both very good, serious, working dogs, but Thor is sensitive, while Telly is thick-skinned and cocky. That's the pup I remember! That's the dog I know and love! Brian said Telly didn't think much of him at first. Labs and Goldens will love you as soon as you feed them, but it took a few weeks for him to earn Telly's confidence.

I told Brian that this was my fifth town walk, but I've never had a dog graduate. He was visibly stricken for me. It was selfish perhaps, but it helped to share my grief with someone who would understand. He knows the effort it takes to train a dog, the overwhelming desire to see a dog working with a blind person, and the crushing disappointment that comes from fallen expectations. My dogs got so far into training. He knows that my lack of success is not due to any lack of effort or skill on my part. He could only empathize and repeat that though he could guarantee nothing, Telly is ready to be matched with a blind person. It's hard. I have so much hope - so much reason to hope - but my hope makes me frightened. The greater my hope, the more crushing the potential disappointment.

It's strange to think that my work for the Seeing Eye is done. For years, the Seeing Eye has been a huge part of my life. I've thought and talked and listened and read and worked. It was intense and involved. I feel as if I know the Seeing Eye. But now that contact will be over. For the Seeing Eye, I'm just a name on a long list of names to be crossed off. Volunteering for the Seeing Eye is so personal, and yet so oddly impersonal. I know that they are are grateful for the work that I, and other puppy raisers are doing. They are indebted to us, and they say so. I wish they knew how much I care for them. I will be forgotten, but I will never forget.

This is one of my longest posts. I guess it's more for myself, then for any one else. Writing helps me unscramble my confused thoughts. Hopefully it will help me remember.

Written from home

I'm home in New Jersey for a long-awaited spring break. My plane arrived late Friday night. It was a less than pleasurable flight. I had an aisle seat, and all looked well until the man with the seat next to me lumbered up the aisle. He was large and fat and smokey smelling, and he informed me that I would be more comfortable in the middle. This was most decidedly not the case, but it didn't seem prudent to argue, so I moved. I fumed and squirmed and mused. Was it right of me to move because it is, "going the extra mile" or "giving my cloak" or "doing unto others as I would have them do to you"? But then, I would never even consider demanding something like that. If it was a good deed, than I shouldn't have been fuming over it, and I certainly shouldn't be telling you all about the good deed that I did. But it's over, and while it lasted I enjoyed thinking about how I would blog about it. I was going to write that I "demurred" to his request thinking that "demur" meant "to acquiesce in a demure way", but instead it means "to raise doubts or objections or show reluctance." I'm glad I looked it up. But enough about that.

On Saturday, I visited the Steinway store in Paramus, NJ. I got to play a little bit on one of the grand pianos they were selling before listening to a presentation on the making of the Steinway. It was fascinating. It takes one year to make a single Steinway grand. The finest materials are brought from around the world, and the finest craftsmen create hundreds of the finest pianos every year. The frame the piano is made out of eighteen, twenty foot long laminations of cherry wood. Four men bend and clamp the wood around a metal frame. This wooden frame will last years. When old Steinways are refurbished they gut the instrument, throw out everything but the frame, and build anew from the outside in. The sounding board (I'm not sure I have the terms right) is made from spruce - a higher grade of spruce that is used in airplanes! This board is cambered slightly (in Steinways only) for the highest quality of sound. The dampers are made from the highest quality felt. To a certain extent the sound of the piano can be adjusted to the taste of the pianist. Keys can be made mellower by pricking holes in the felt, or brighter by painting it with something that hardens the felt. Each Steinway has a different sound and a different feel, and all of them are amazing. If only. . . .

Today I saw Telly working in harness. I'll write about that and post some pictures tomorrow when I can take advantage of the faster, free, wireless internet at the library. Suffice to say for now, it was amazing.

This made my week.

In Saga, (Wheaton's cafeteria) at most tables there are those things that stand upright that you can slide ads and notices into. Last week someone put a prank pamphlet on beer next the the one on honey. Click on the image to read what was written. It's pretty funny.

I have the cutest nephew

This picture always makes me smile. I used it in another art project for writing class - a symbolic picture on the theme "trusting God". Whenever I watch Ruth feed John I always think of the passage from Matthew that says, "Ask, and it will be given you; seek, and you will find; knock, and it will be opened to you. For everyone who asks receives, and the one who seeks finds, and to the one who knocks it will be opened. Or which one of you, if his son asks him for bread, will give him a stone? Or if he asks for a fish, will give him a serpent? If you then, who are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father who is in heaven give good things to those who ask him!" May I have the childlike trust in my Heavenly Father that my nephew has in his loving mother!

Discovery

I am an explorer. Most of you might not know this about me, but I do explore regions of Illinois unknown to most of my contemporaries. I and my trusty canine companion traverse miles of suburban Wheaton on foot daily.

On this date, March 3, 2008, I discovered a hill. Blanchard Street is a legitimate incline. I'm not referring to the gentle sloping lawn in front of Blanchard Hall, but to a street on the south side of the tracks. Yes, I do even venture to that part of town. Blanchard Street may, in fact, be almost as steep as Ashwood Terrace. There was a Miner rejoicing. My rigorous ascent was checked only by a brief pause to clean up after Patton. Apparently he did not appreciate the loftiness of the occasion.

Furthermore, and perhaps more importantly, I sighted indicators of the coming of spring. I saw a tree with green buds. I even ventured onto a private driveway for closer inspection. Around the tree were birds chirping. Spring is in the air. In a few weeks there may be a Miner majorly rejoicing.

Dignity

Tonight I went to After Hours, that wonderful college group that meets at the home of my dear friends, the Cassels. I was thinking, as I walked to their house, about the first Sunday I went to After Hours. I paced outside their door, trying to work up the courage to walk into a house full of strangers. I'm so glad I came.

We snack and chat for a while and then gather in the living room, crowding together on the couches, sitting on the floor or the stairs, pouring out into the hall. Sometimes I try to get a headcount, but I can never see everyone. There are well over forty of us, I think. Usually someone on the college group leadership team will interview a guest - a missionary or leader in the church. This week our guest was Mr. Roger Sandburg, who is the chair of the pastoral search committee at College Church. They've been looking for a pastor for over three years - they started before Kent Hughes left. He spoke to us about the search and a little bit about his life, and after he was done he encouraged us to introduce ourselves to him. So I did, just as we were leaving. Then I walked down the stairs, started down the sidewalk, slipped, and fell backwards. (The weather today was beautiful, so what was once hard, rough ice is now ice covered with water. I've been on skating rinks less slippery.) Anyway, he called out, asking politely if I was hurt. I said something about only losing my dignity to which he responded, "Oh, don't worry about that!"

He probably just meant to put me at ease, but it seems like a loaded statement. I guess I probably shouldn't worry overly much about keeping my dignity. I don't have much dignity to keep, acting otherwise is probably pretentious. But then, to be dignified is admirable often, right? It's really not something I worry much about, but what he said made me consider it.

And as I was thinking about it, wet and sore, walking back to Fischer, a line from Be Thou My Vision came into my head. "Be Thou my dignity, Thou my delight." What does it mean for the Lord to be your dignity?

Entertainment yesterday evening

My candle burns at both ends;
It will not last the night;
But ah, my foes,
And oh, my friends,
It gives a lovely light.
~ Edna St. Vincent Mallay

I'm tired. This is another random piece of poetry floating around in my head. I've been burning the candle at both ends, so to speak.

Last night I ushered for artist series. The State Symphony of Mexico was performing. It was not a great concert. The piccolo was so flat even I could tell something was wrong! In spite of that it was generally enjoyable. The conductor considered it a great triumph and graced us with three encores. But the encores were better than the rest of the program. The orchestra really came alive as they played Mexican music. It was impossible to keep from moving with the music.

The greatest entertainment of the evening, however, came from reading the program notes. They were the worst translation from Spanish into English that I have ever seen. I went to the Stupe after the concert with a bunch of conservies; they were almost in stitches. Here are some of the most amusing bits:

As in the case of the first performances of Stravinsky's ballets, The Three-cornered Hat [Suite] was presented by a true constellation of stars.

This labor of recreation is extraordinarily intelligent, because Rodrigo knew how to treat and develop the base material through a dialogue that sometimes is accompanied by a reduced-sized orchestra, but large enough to sprinkle about this work of sweet and sour harmonies, just like the strong spices that were so much to the liking of the taste buds of that time.

[Brahms] had gone into retirement, in order to peacefully create in Murzzuschlag, an Austrian village at the foot of the mountains and in a valley that, in spite of its green surroundings, lacks the charm and loveliness, which the lakes had offered to the composer during earlier summers. . . .

The last movement is a complicated polyphonic web, which always requires a perfect orchestra and an excellent conductor. It shows great human maturity, great personality and superior cultures.

Broad and noble is the first motif, yet, what so ever simple is its germ, its cell is nothing more than a third class interval, from which the sixth is gained by inversion, the rest is transposing and finding sequences that confer beautiful spaciousness to this movement. Very different is the second movement with its broad, solemn motif that reminds of ancient melodies, in medieval ways.

On his color palette he also has the color of pleasant joyfulness and it is not precisely one of his brightest colors. It fulfills its purpose, but amidst timbales and triangles let loose, we something get the impression of a man, who wishes to hide his melancholy by sticking to a carnival group type music.

And, finally, my personal favorite:

The problem of the musical nationalism in its first expression, in its folkloristic or arrandement phase. has been always the how using the popular themes with the big forms and with tose big musical groups. In general in this phase those composers accepted as elaborates a kind of salad in which.