Luncheon at LaSalle Language Academy

Yesterday the Lady Friend and I did something unusual: We talked about our children's book One TV Blasting and a Pig Outdoors at a literary tea party-luncheon sponsored by Ms. Deborah Cohen's fourth grade class at LaSalle Language Academy, a celebrated magnet school in Chicago's Old Town that is part of the sprawling Chicago Public Schools system.

In case you didn't know, One TV Blasting is the book the Lady Friend (who goes by the nom de plume Deborah Abbott) based on the original 1990 edition of my What's That Pig Outdoors?: A Memoir of Deafness. One TV Blasting was published in 1994 and is still in print, bringing in a trickle of royalties every year.

We've done countless appearances at bookstores and libraries, but this was something new for us -- and we had a splendid time.

The kids asked sharp questions ("How old were you when you became deaf?" and "Why don't you know sign language?" among them). In unison they demonstrated their expertise in fingerspelling, a skill I am sorely lacking.

They allowed us -- and the many parents present -- to read and critique the books they themselves had created for Ms. Cohen's class. (Many of those youngsters, believe me, have a lot of talent.) They asked me to autograph their books, and I did so eagerly.

To wrap up the event, they put on a talent show, including a rousing medley of songs.

What impressed me the most about this school deep in the heart of Chicago was the joyous affection and respect this multicultural group of kids -- divided almost equally among whites, blacks, Latinos and Asians -- showed for each other and for their teacher. On the basis of just a couple of hours' observation, I'd say Ms. Cohen deserves a Golden Apple with oak leaf clusters. (So, I am told, does the rest of the faculty.)

What a contrast this was with the often out-of-control classrooms even in suburban Evanston, where the Lady Friend and I live.

As its name implies, the school focuses on teaching foreign languages every day from kindergarten through 8th grade while  also grounding its pupils in math, science, music and other educational staples. Kids can choose among Spanish, French, Italian and Mandarin Chinese. Upper-grade pupils travel to Europe and China to practice their languages, and they also host students from abroad.

Need it be mentioned that their standardized state test scores tend to land in the upper 90th percentiles?

These clearly are very bright youngsters, and the competition to get into the school is intense. Their parents are equally committed. Quite a few fathers took off a few hours from work to attend the event -- something you don't often see in suburban schools.

What an education yesterday was for us.

Workin' on the railroad . . .

Amtrak No. 4, the eastbound Southwest Chief, stops to pick us up at Winslow, Ariz.

. . . all the livelong week. That's why I've been missing in action for so long. The Lady Friend and I took a brief trip aboard Amtrak's Southwest Chief to La Plata, Mo., and Winslow, Ariz., and the trip report for Trainweb is here.

Go-arounds

Yesterday the Washington Post printed a mildly scary story about an Alaska Airlines jet landing at National Airport (I know it's Reagan National, but all pilots call it "National") and suddenly zooming sharply away in what pilots call a "go-around," startling passengers and spectators on the ground.

Another airplane, the Post said, was on the runway. It had just landed but hadn't yet turned off onto a taxiway, so the tower ordered the incoming jet to abort its landing and go around the circuit for another try. Safety first, you know.

If it hadn't been for an air traffic controller falling asleep in the wee hours at National last week, the event wouldn't have been a story. But travelers are nervous, and newspapers have to make money, and an enterprising reporter capitalized on an opportunity.

The reporter admitted that at National Airport go-arounds happen a lot -- ten to 20 times a month -- because traffic there is so congested that the tower has to space incoming planes tightly. Sometimes the controllers' timing is slightly off and an incoming plane follows the preceding one a little too closely. Solution: If there's any doubt, any doubt at all, the tower (or the captain of the plane about to land) calls a go-around and things are rejuggled. Nobody is endangered -- not in the slightest.

Those incidents never make the news.

Some years ago I was aboard a United 737 on short final at National. Less than a quarter of a mile from touchdown, the pilot suddenly poured on the coal, cleaned up the landing gear and roared away. The woman next to me grabbed the seat rest and gasped, no doubt thinking we had escaped death by the skin of our chins. The guy across the aisle chuckled and shook his head. He'd been there before.

Nor was I perturbed, because as a small plane pilot I had repeatedly been trained to perform that maneuver almost from the first day of flight instruction.

"Always keep your eyes on that runway," said Tom, my instructor, "and expect somebody to surprise you. The second you think something's not right, shove in that throttle and get the hell outta there."

Again and again, even when the airport was deserted except for us, Tom would clap my leg just as I lifted the plane's nose to touch down on the mains and shout "Go around!"

Pilots are trained never to relax in the landing pattern but to stay alert, keeping a hand lightly on the throttle, ready to ram the ball to the wall at the slightest sign of potential danger.

During 15 years and more than 1,300 hours in the cockpit, I was forced to perform more than a dozen actual go-arounds. Once an airplane landed well ahead of me but turned around and back-taxied down the runway, its pilot oblivious to incoming traffic. More than once a student pilot holding in the pocket failed to look up to check incoming airplanes before taxiing onto the numbers for takeoff.

Several times animals -- deer, coyotes and once a magnificent elk -- sauntered onto the runway when I was on short final.

None of these go-arounds were close calls, although a passenger or two might have been a little perturbed. (I don't think I ever said "Oh shit!" with someone in the right seat. Pilots should never do that, even in mild irritation.)

And I was an amateur, a private pilot, a weekend puddle-jumper driver. Air transport pilots are even more on edge during landings, because they're responsible for scores of passengers. As I did, they train and train and train until go-arounds become second nature. (They don't have to wait for a controller's order, either.)

Go-arounds are safe. They're designed to keep you safe. Don't fret.

Coming up for air

The rumors of my demise are exaggerated, although it is true that with every passing year I slide further into decrepitude.

I have not posted on either blog for nearly two weeks because:

1. I've been very busy working to get my books' rights back from the publishers so I can republish them as e-books. (It takes the lawyers forever, and more than a few lunches, to get things done.) I've got big plans for one of them, but don't want to get ahead of events here.

2. The Lady Friend has press-ganged me into donating my labor (chiefly installing new Macs and printing labels) to her favorite cause, the Evanston Public Library Friends' new "Mighty Twig" branchette. For that matter, it has become my favorite cause, too.

3. I've been preparing lessons for my half of a Train Travel Writers and Photographers Workshop to be held October 15-21, 2011, at the Depot Inn & Suites in La Plata, Missouri. (I'm doing the writing half.) More about this later.

4. I just haven't had much to opine about lately. The goings-on in the world (Libya and Wisconsin to mention only two of them) have got me utterly befuddled. Do you need still another blogger to comment on the obvious -- that the world is going to hell in a handbasket?

The recruiter is in

Starting May 14, I'll be teaching again -- this time a writers' workshop for the Porcupine Mountains Folk School at the Porcupine Mountains Wilderness State Park just east of Silver City in western Upper Michigan. You all are invited, especially if you live in the western UP.

Here's the prospectus:

Words and the Porkies: An informal workshop for writers with the Porcupine Mountains as the backdrop and inspiration

Time: Four Saturdays, May 14 & 21, June 4 & 11, 2011, from 10:00 a.m. to noon.

Cost: $25 includes all four Saturdays. Scholarships are available. Please inquire at registration (906-884-4188)

Description: Students will focus on writing about “The Porkies” in a broad choice of genres, including the travel article, the essay, the journal, memoir, fiction, children's stories and poetry -- whatever is comfortable for each student. There will be readings of short passages about the wilderness by famous writers and poets as well as work by Porcupine Mountains artists-in-residence. Techniques of observation and fact-gathering, including interviewing, will be discussed. Basic assignments on subjects about The Porkies will be made in consultation with the students. Student work will be read and discussed and suggestions made, but no grading will be done.

Lake of the Clouds, the Porkies' most-photographed site.

Requirements: A desire to write and the ability to use a typewriter or a computer. It is hoped that students will have access to them, as well as a printer, but some accommodation can be made for those who do not.

Special notes: A choice among short guided hikes and indoor activities will be offered to provide subjects for writing. Casual clothes and suitable shoes are recommended for the outdoor activities.

The instructor, Henry Kisor, assisted by Deborah Abbott, will be available for private consultations (included in the price) all weekend on those dates, either in person at the Folk School or via e-mail at author@henrykisor.com.

About the instructor: Henry Kisor is a retired literary editor of the Chicago Sun-Times as well as the author of three nonfiction books and four mystery novels. He has been a summer visitor to the Porkies since 1966. He and his wife, the children's book critic and author Deborah Abbott, spend their summers at a cabin on the shore of Lake Superior at Green, Michigan, that her father built in 1947.

Why is this workshop so inexpensive? It's a pilot project for the Friends of the Porkies Folk School, testing the waters to see if such an offering will attract people to the Porkies -- and I'm donating my time and experience.

Come on up and see us.

Falls on the Presque Isle River in the Porkies

Mention in Dispatches

Scored a modest success with one of my macrophotographs in a local contest today:

(scroll down to bottom of the page)

See here.

New TrainWeb dispatch

A new travel post, about our short hops earlier this week on a pair of workaday Amtrak trains on the Atlantic Coast, is on my TrainWeb site.