I’ve been writing for the Chicago Tribune TribLocal and the Chicago Now blog since fall of 2010. It has been fun seeing my stuff in print and online.
Yesterday, I had the opportunity to interview Kristi McNaron and Laura Ball from The Dave Ramsey Show about their weight loss success. This is a wonderful, inspiring story of friendship:
I stood in line with all the others, waiting for my turn to go inside the building. Reaching into the pocket of my jeans, I fingered the brass disc with the number 43 on it. I was visitor number forty-three that morning. A young woman stood in front of me, holding a sniffling toddler on her hip while she juggled a clear bag filled with diapers and baby food with her other hand. Another son clung to her leg, crying and begging to be held. With a sigh, the mom put the toddler down and picked up the crying child. In an instant, the other one began to cry.
My eyes drifted to the barbed-wire fence that surrounded the perimeter of the corrections facility. This wasn’t the first time I had gone inside a prison. Years ago, I provided advocacy and counseling services to a deaf woman who was convicted of murdering her baby. Once a month, I would go through the usual pat downs and security procedures at the women’s prison and settle in for a two-hour session.
This time, the visit was personal. I was heading inside to visit a friend that I hadn’t seen in twenty five years. Ron and I were friends in high school. We met on the swimming team and swam endless laps after school. In the hallways, we passed each other notes that we wrote instead of paying attention in our classes. The notes turned into letters when Ron joined the Navy and went off to sea. He shared stories of his travels and sent post cards from various stops around the world.
As the years progressed, we lost touch. I forged a new path with my husband and kids and dove into a deaf life with a new community of friends. American Sign Language became a part of my life and my circle of deaf and hard of hearing friends grew. I didn’t forget Ronnie– there was a little part of me that missed the letters and friendship. He was the friend that always offered encouragement and pushed me to set goals and achieve them. I kept a mug that he gave me in high school and moved it from place to place.
I never forgot him. Buried deep in the basement was a box of every note, every letter that he wrote. My husband was always amused that the letters found a home every time we moved, but he understood that it was a part of my high school memories– a fun time in my life that I didn’t want to forget. Ron and I were never boyfriend/girlfriend, but what we had was a special friendship.
So there I was on a Sunday morning, waiting to greet the high school friend who was spending time in prison for a crime he did not commit. A false accusation out of the blue had suddenly spiraled out of control and before Ron knew it, his freedom was taken away. He was a decorated war veteran whose only prior blemish on his record was simply two speeding tickets. As I went through the pat down procedure and headed to the visiting area, I had a bunch of thoughts racing through my head. Would it be awkward? Would we be able to connect again? Would I be able to lipread him?
The moment I saw Ron, it was as if we never paused our friendship. The four hours flew by and we talked about everything– from the nightmare of circumstances that put him behind bars and turned his life upsidedown– to the memories of high school and the fun times. He showed me the American Sign Language he was learning from a fellow inmate’s mom who was an interpreter. All too soon, it was time for me to head back home. Back to a life with the complete freedom to design each day. I’m more painfully aware of the loss of freedom that my friend no longer has. I curse the legal system that allows this to happen.
How is it possible that a truly evil man like Phillip Garrido could walk around free and an innocent man is paying with eight years of his life?
Earlier this year, 67-year-old Judy Myers decided that she wanted to qualify enough points in barefoot waterskiing to compete in the World Barefoot Championships in Brandenberg, Germany in August. To qualify, she needed to score 500 points in a tournament.
Dubbed the “old Lady” of barefooting, Judy has the skills of someone much younger. She can barefoot backwards and on one foot, and earlier this spring, she mastered the tumble turn. Back in March, I sat in the boat and watched her spin around on the water–thinking to myself– I want to learn that!
“So, why do we call you ‘Old Lady?’” Keith St. Onge asked Judy after viewing this photo of her in the boat during a practice run. “You look like a little kid living your dream back there!” Judy works for Keith at the World Barefoot Center and when she’s not working, she spends her time footin’ on the water.
In tournament after tournament this year, Judy came close, scoring 450 points. She decided to add a backwards flying start to her tricks to get her over the 500 mark:
After a couple of unsuccessful starts, Judy IM’d me on Facebook: “They’re building me a tower for tomorrow’s tournament.”
Robbie Groen, a barefooter from New Zealand suggested this solution to Judy. Sure enough, David Small from the World Barefoot Center and a friend went to work and built an 8-foot platform out of scaffolding and plywood right before the tournament.
“Oh my gosh,” I wrote. “You weren’t kidding that they were actually thinking of tossing a 67-year-old gal off a tower for some points!”
“No, I am jumping off willingly,” Judy said. “See what happens when you get old and you start to lose your marbles!”
The next day, Judy did indeed jump off that tower and scored 550 points! She’s heading off to Germany in August. Way to go, Judy!
I was sitting in the car repair shop this morning with my laptop on a table, getting ready to join a meeting using the Z4 videophone. Two ladies sat nearby and one of them began talking to me. I looked up and said, “Oh, sorry, I didn’t hear what you said, I’m deaf.”
She laughed and pointed to the hearing aids perched in her ear. “I am too, she said with a smile.” The other lady scooted over and we began talking about videophones and webcams and I showed them the Z4 from ZVRS and explained my job. The lady with the hearing aids had to leave and I continued to chat with the other lady.
“I’m Sally Goodman,” she said. “I like to tell people that I married a good man.”
I laughed.
“Well, I’m Karen Putz,” I said. “I usually tell people that I married a putz.”
She let out a big a laugh.
We talked and found some neat connections between us. Her husband is hard of hearing and her brother-in-law and several other relatives are deaf and hard of hearing. Her daughter is an author of several books, and currently working on a non-fiction book. Her great-grandfather founded the town of Battle Creek, Michigan.
She asked me if I was born deaf and I explained the deaf gene in my family and how I went from hard of hearing to deaf after a fall while barefoot waterskiing. She shared her story of being diagnosed with MS twenty years ago and how she worked her way out of a wheelchair and back into great health again. We exchanged emails and a hug before parting ways.
I’m always amazed at the folks that I cross paths with in daily life– I know these are not just chance encounters, but interactions that are rich with learning and growth.
Every day, that circle of life just grows bigger and bigger.
For all those who think they’re “too old” or that the “best years are over with,” this one is for you:
Keith St. Onge:
“Here we are at the World Barefoot Center with Judy Myers and Karen Putz. Very unique story we have here today. Today we have Karen Putz, she is deaf. It has been over 25 years since she has barefooted and we got her back on her feet skiing along today! Some more of the unique story is that Karen was introduced back into barefooting by seeing Judy Myers 67 years old skiing. Want to tell us a little bit more about that Karen?”
Karen: “Sure! It was my 44th birthday and I was sitting at my parents’ lake, just sitting there thinking that the best years were over with. It had been ten years since I touched the water barefooting. So I’m sitting there thinking, “Gosh, I wish I could barefoot again.” I didn’t think I could. I mean I was 44 years old and I thought if I barefoot again I might break something.
Keith St. Onge:
“Right… A lot of people think that they might break something and they are to old to barefoot, but that is not the case.”
Karen: So in October of that year, my husband sent me a link to Judy from the Today Show. At first, I didn’t open it but when I was cleaning out emails that one popped up. So I clicked on the link and I’m watching Judy and she’s barefooting on the water. I’m like, wait a minute! She’s 66 years old and she’s barefooting on the water. If she’s 66, well then, what’s my excuse? I’m 44– I can get back on the water again!
So I contacted Judy and she said, “Come on down to Florida!” So that’s exactly what I did two, three weeks ago. On my first try, I got back to barefooting again.
Keith St. Onge: One of the big questions is how we communicate with Karen. We can talk but she can not hear us, Karen can read lips. She reads lips perfectly! As long as Karen is making eye contact it works well.
Karen:
Keith is easy to lipread!
Keith: The unique cool thing here is that Judy Myers 67 the oldest female barefooter in the world still competing . She has been bringing a lot of people down to the ski school, people have seen her Fit to Boom video, Subway commercial, all this type of stuff and things have been really cool. It has been AWESOME!
Jill Bianco is one tough gal. A baseball going at warp speed doesn’t faze her a bit. Jill is part of a twelve-woman baseball team, the Liberty Belles and the only deaf woman that I know who plays baseball.
Jill played fast-pitch softball for many years in every position except pitcher. She joined the Chicago Gems baseball team after responding to an ad on Craigslist. On February 12, Jill will head to Hong Kong to play in the 2009 Phoenix Cup International Women Baseball Tournament.
Being Deaf and playing ball can be tough sometimes. I face many challenges but I haven’t let them get me down, or stop me from playing the sport I truly love. I can do everything other ball players can do, both on the field and off, the only difference is that I do not hear. Baseball doesn’t require a lot of verbal communication on the field. With all the visual signs being used there isn’t much need for verbal communication. This puts every teammate on the same page, with equal access and knowledge of what to do next. I strive to show the world that a Deaf female ball player can be as good as anyone. I’d like to educate people so they understand that Deaf people aren’t what they’re stereotyped as.
As you can imagine, it isn’t cheap to head to Hong Kong and Jill isn’t going to let limited funds stop her. If you have a few dollars (or more) to spare, you can help with Jill’s dream to play baseball:
Hi everyone! I m Jill. I just got back from Hong Kong yesterday. I had a blast. We, North American Liberty Belles, won silver medal for the tournament. We lost to Japan in the Championship. I m also proud to share that I have received a huge honor of being selected as a Team Most Valuable Player (MVP) for the Liberty Belles!
Yesterday, I finally had my first mammogram. A mammogram that I had been putting off for over a year.
“Have you had your mammogram?” Jill Wood, a parent of a hard of hearing son, asked me during an IM conversation a year ago. Jill had just been diagnosed with breast cancer and was about to begin chemotherapy.
“I haven’t had one yet, but I will,” I typed back. The doctor had given me the RX for a mammogram earlier that year, but I couldn’t find the paper. I just put the procedure on the back burner.
When I received the RX again this year, I told myself that I really needed to follow through with it. So there I was yesterday, dressed in a gown and about to haul my boobs over a plastic plate to be squished.
“Just a minute,” the technician said. “I need to get the larger plate.” She replaced the regular-sized plastic plate with the larger plate.
I rolled my eyes and quickly, my thoughts went to Jill.
I gotta tell her about this, I said to myself. She would crack up at the thought of hauling out a larger plate for my anatomy.
My thoughts soon turned dark as I noticed a spot on one of the digital images that came up on the screen.
“Should I be worried?” I asked the technician.
“No, you have to wait for the doctor to review the images and they’ll call you within a week.”
I was driving home yesterday and thinking, “I gotta call Jill and talk to her.”
That night, I received a message from Barbara, another parent who knew Jill:
Hi Karen – I know you don’t read Listen-up every day but thought you would want to know that Jill Wood passed away on Friday, Dec. 26. I knew she’d taken a turn for the worse a couple of months ago but didn’t realize the extent. I’m very, very sad.
I sat there stunned. And I cried. I called Barbara for the first time and we talked. I emailed Helen, Jill’s friend and learned that Jill was doing well five days before and then took a rapid turn for the worse. The world lost a great woman, a great mom. I know I’m not alone in feeling this way because on the parent listserv where we met, many other parents felt the same way. You see, Jill was an incredible mom who greeted parent after parent on the list, sharing her thoughts, her feelings and all the things she learned throughout the years of parenting a son with progressive hearing loss. Her son sent my oldest son some Weird Al music and got him hooked on Weird Al videos as a result. So I bought a Weird Al video for Christmas last year for my oldest son and the kids just cracked up watching it.
Jill wrote with wit and wisdom and her personality shone through with every post she shared. I’m not kidding. Ask any parent on the listserv and you’ll see that this gal stood out and many learned from her.
Jill was a freelance illustrator who drew book covers. She shared some of her designs with me and I was blown away by her talent. Last October, when she first began chemotherapy, she and I wrote back and forth. She joked about doing reconstructive surgery and getting a set of perky boobs that would be the envy of everyone in the nursing home when she turned 90.
Yes, that was Jill, ever the optimist with a wisecrack. In one of her emails, she said she was off to get her “poison cocktails” and said that she was going to make her doctors insert a fancy drink umbrella on it. “At least I’ll get to catch up on some much needed sleep,” she joked about the side effects. I was about to leave for a cruise at that time, so I emailed back and said that I would have a Pina Colada in her honor, complete with an umbrella and send her a picture.
“Here’s the picture, as promised,” I wrote to her when we arrived back. I was in a swimsuit, holding a pina colada with an umbrella perched in it. ”I wouldn’t send just anyone a picture of me in a swimsuit,” I joked. “Only for you, girl.”
So as I wait for result from the mammogram, I’m going to celebrate Jill’s life and dig out the Weird Al video for our trip up to Michigan. Here’s to you, Jill.
Jill and her husband Larry, in their funny slippers
I was going through a pile of papers and the hand-written essay caught my eye. It was an essay written during my freshmen year at a local community college. I sat down to read it and was instantly transported back in time. I received an “A” on this essay, probably not so much for how it was written (because I see many mistakes and ways it could be written differently) but more for the story it shared:
Even now, seven years later, I can still remember the first time I met Mike. I was eleven years old when we drove up to our newly bought cottage. As we settled down, a slightly balding man walked over and introduced himself as Mike. That was the beginning of a special friendship that was rather slow in forming [at first].
I cannot remember much of the first four years. I was a very shy girl then, but Mike’s friendliness won me me over. I was like a turtle, coming out of my shell when Mike was around.
The shell really broke when I began to show a serious interest in [water]skiing. Mike’s son used to waterski competitevely and Mike used his knowledge to encourage me. He gave me the encouragement that I wanted so much from my own parents.
He taught me a card game called “Casino” and we spent many a time together winning and losing to each other. He was dubbed “The Champ,” and whenever I would win a game, I would [strut around and] call myself, “The Champ.” But never for long, because he would win back the title in the next game.
Mike had a great sense of humor. I always remember summers full of laughter around him. He would put on airs of a big-time gambler, strutting around wearing his favorite hat from Las Vegas. The expressions he used, his movements, never failed to bring out a laugh.
There was a serious side to him. Family bickerings always clouded his face. He never let anyone know what he was thinking or how he really felt during those days.
This summer, Mike got sick. I hardly saw him during the summer. No one knew it was serious until his son-in-law told us that Mike had cancer. I was stunned.
A few weeks after I found out, I went to see Mike in his office. I was shocked, for he had grown thin and pale. It was the first time that I realized he was not going to get better. It was the last time I saw him.
Mike died last week and I lost a very special friend. As I sat in the church at his funeral, I thought of the good times and the bad times. I replayed his smile, his laugh, and all the scenes of summer that came to my mind. One particular scene stands out:
I remember him standing under the maple tree and telling me that I was going to be the first girl to barefoot (waterski on my bare feet) on Christie Lake. I laughed at him then. Early this summer, I did it–but Mike was not around to share the glory [that first time]. When he finally came to the lake for a short visit, he sat in the boat and saw me barefoot. I’ll never forget the proud look on his face. That was the best memory Mike could have given me.
I met Susan Quandt at the SOBCon’08 in Chicago this year. During one of the breaks, we sat together and we discovered we had some things in common, including involvement with non-profit boards and fundraising for non-profits. I remember Susan’s advice vividly: “Choose your board carefully. You can’t afford to have anyone on board who isn’t a team player. Everyone has to give 110%”
Susan was excited about being filmed for the Oprah show and talked about her day spent at the Oprah show. I shared my Oprah moments with her– getting to meet Oprah after a show and thanking her for providing interpreters and the Letter to the Editor that was printed in the “O” magazine. You can view Susan on the show here: Real Life Stories of the Law of Attraction.
Later that afternoon, Susan and I ended up in the same small group reviewing commercials made using Utterli:
Every now and then, life also gives you a jewel that shines, and Susan was one of them. In the short amount of time that I spent with her, I learned that she served on several non-profits, taught at a college, managed work and a family and had several projects that she was working on at once. I remember leaving our conversation thinking, “Wow, this is a gal who has accomplished so much and really embraces life!”
I’m so sad to hear this news because I was so looking forward to meeting her again at SOBCon’09 and chatting more. My heart goes out to her family.
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