[il-talk] Illinois Independent, Fall 2016

[Deborah Kent Stein]

ILLINOIS INDEPENDENT

 

Fall 2016

 

National Federation of the Blind of Illinois

 

President: Denise R. Avant, (773) 991-8050

davant1958 at gmail.com

 

Editor: Deborah Kent Stein, (773) 203-1394

dkent5817 at att.net

 

Coeditor: Robert Gardner, (309) 236-6606

rgardner4 at gmail.com

 

Formatting: Glenn Moore and Janna Harvey

 

NFB Newsline Edition: David Meyer, (708) 209-1767

datemeyer at sbcglobal.net

 

Print and Braille Editions: Bill Reif, (217) 801-2996

billreif at ameritech.net

 

TABLE OF CONTENTS

 

>From the President's Desk, by Denise R. Avant

The Chicago Marriott Naperville Hotel, Convention Information, by Patti
Gregory-Chang 

Come Spin with Me, by Cathy Randall

Skiing with the Vikings, by Denise R. Avant

Playing with Clay, by Deborah Kent Stein

In Memoriam: LeAnne Mayne

 

 

 

FROM THE PRESIDENT's DESK

by Denise R. Avant

 

The fall convention season is now underway. But before I talk about the
excitement surrounding our NFBI state convention, I want to bring an
important matter to your attention. The National Federation of the Blind
does many things well. We educate and advocate across the country on behalf
of blind people. And as I write this article, we the blind once again need
to advocate for ourselves and educate the public. To raise money for medical
research, the Foundation Fighting Blindness has launched the HOWEYESEEIT
campaign. The campaign asks sighted people to put on blindfolds and try to
do everyday tasks such as cooking, shopping, and caring for children.

 

The NFB does not oppose medical research to find treatments and cures for
eye conditions that may cause blindness. However, this campaign is misguided
and dangerous. We in the Federation know that if blind people are properly
trained in mobility and daily living skills, we can perform the same
everyday tasks that are done by our sighted peers. The Foundation Fighting
Blindness campaign fails to tell the whole story. Instead, it plays on the
public's fears and misconceptions about blindness. If not confronted and
addressed, the campaign will perpetuate these misconceptions and foster a
culture of discrimination.

 

One of our greatest concerns with the HOWEYESEEIT campaign is the way it
portrays blind people's ability to care for children. We in the Federation
see many cases in which the ability of a blind parent to care for his or her
children is questioned, and we have seen cases in which parents lose custody
of their children based on blindness alone. Several states have introduced
parental rights bills that say children cannot be removed from the home due
to the parents' blindness. The Foundation Fighting Blindness campaign serves
to undermine our efforts to protect blind parents and their children.

 

As Federationists we know the truth about blindness. We work, we play, and
we take care of children. The list goes on and on. Please help educate the
public by taking a video of yourself doing some everyday task. Upload it to
social media with the hashtag HOWEYESEEIT. Be sure to say that you are a
proud member of the National Federation of the Blind.

 

Once again at our convention we will show that blind people are able to live
the lives we want. Everyone in the Illinois affiliate of the NFB has been
busy choosing topics, inviting speakers, making arrangements with the hotel,
and preparing convention materials. This year's convention will be held on
the weekend of October 28-30 at the Chicago Naperville Marriott in
Naperville, Illinois. For more information about convention activities, go
to www.nfbofillinois.org. Following this letter you will find an article
describing the layout of the hotel.

 

Our national representative and keynote speaker at this year's convention
will be Joe Ruffalo, Jr., president of the New Jersey affiliate and board
member of the NFB. Other speakers include John Olson of 3d PhotoWorks, Peter
Tucic from HumanWare Inc., makers of the BrailleNote Touch and other
blindness and low vision products; John Gordon, chief of the Illinois Bureau
of Blind Services; Karen Woodfork, director of student education at the
Hadley Institute for the Blind and Visually Impaired; and Camille
Caffirelli, executive director of Horizons for the Blind.

 

In addition to hearing from our speakers on various program topics, you will
meet the NFBI scholarship class of 2016: Ashley Eisenmenger, Adnana Saric,
Gabe Stanforth, and Aziz Zeidieh. One of the highlights of 2016 for the NFBI
was that all four scholarship winners from 2015 attended our NFB national
convention in Orlando, Florida. This has never happened in Illinois before.
We hope that the 2016 class will fully participate in our organization and
join us in Orlando in 2017.

 

We have expanded the Braille Readers Are Leaders contest, which began in
Illinois in 2013. In 2015-2016 the contest was open to students from
Illinois and Minnesota. The 2016-17 contest will be regional. Children in
grades K-12 from most of the Great Lakes states can now participate. On
November 1, 2016, children in these states can begin to submit their
registration forms. From December 1, 2016 to January 20, 2017, children
compete for cash prizes by reading as many Braille pages as they can. The
NFB knows that strong Braille reading skills help to ensure that blind
children will live productive lives.

 

Do you want to represent Illinois at the 2017 Washington Seminar? The dates
for the next Washington Seminar are January 30-February 2, 2017.
Applications can be found on our website, and must be submitted to the state
president by December 1, 2016. Meanwhile, please call Senators Richard
Durbin and Mark Kirk and ask them to support the Marrakech Treaty. The
treaty allows books for the blind to be made available to blind people all
over the world. Also please call your senators and representatives and ask
them to support the Space Available Bill, (HR 2264 and S 2596) and the
Accessibility in Instructional Materials and Higher Education Act, AIM HI
(HR 6122).

 

I look forward to seeing all of you at convention. I thank you for your
support over the past two years. I could not do it without your help!

 

 

 

THE CHICAGO NAPERVILLE MARRIOTT HOTEL, Convention Information

By Patti Gregory-Chang

 

This quick article explains the layout of the Chicago Marriott Naperville,
our hotel for the 2016 NFBI convention. It also gives you basic information
about the facilities and amenities.

 

Address and Phone: The hotel is located at 1801 N. Naper Blvd, Naperville,
IL 60563. The phone is: (630) 505-4900.

 

Sleeping Room Types: There are two types of rooms, suites and standard
rooms. The suites have a parlor with a sleeper sofa, two easychairs, and a
coffee table. The room rate for standards is $104. The rate for suites is
$129. All rooms have hair dryers and coffee makers. Connecting rooms can be
reserved upon request.

 

Keycards and Electrical Power: This hotel is modernized. You need to insert
your keycard in a slot inside your room to the side of the door to turn your
power on. Leave it in the slot until you exit your room. When you remove it,
the power goes off again.

 

Check-in/out: Check-in time is three p.m. Check-out time is 12:00 p.m.

 

Wi Fi: There is free Wi Fi in all lobby and common areas. This includes our
meeting rooms.

 

Facilities: The hotel offers an indoor pool, fitness room, and Jacuzzi.
There is lots of parking, especially by the side door.

 

Shuttles: The hotel runs free shuttles within a five-mile radius. Trains are
scheduled to leave for downtown Chicago at 12:30, 2:30, and 4:30 PM. The
hotel has a contract with a limo company that provides discounted service to
and from each airport. The cost is under forty dollars, which compares
favorably to a cab, which would cost approximately sixty-five dollars.

 

Layout: If you enter the hotel through the main doors, the layout is as
follows:

 

The Starbucks is to the left. You should walk ahead to where the tiled
flooring forms a cross. If you turn left at the "lobby cross," with the
doors at your back, you can enter Starbucks by taking the first left. If you
take a right, you can go to the elevator bank. If you pass the elevators,
you head toward the meeting rooms.

 

>From the front door, if you simply bypass the crossing of the tiled portions
of the lobby and keep going straight, you will find our information desk on
your left and the hotel desk on your right. If you pass both, there is a
restaurant directly ahead. You can find the bar, which also serves food from
the restaurant, by turning left after passing the hotel desk. The bar will
be on your right, although people can also sit on the left side at this
point in the lobby.

 

If you stand facing the hotel front desk, the elevator bank is down the
tiled hall to the right. There are three elevators on your left side down
that hall a short way. They are fast.

 

Our meeting rooms are laid out past the elevator bank. Right after the
elevators there is a cash machine on your left, and there are restrooms on
your right. Past those, first you come to a hallway where conference rooms
A, B, and C are on your left heading away from the lobby. Conference rooms
D, E, and F are on your right.

 

Past that hall the hall divides at a Y. There is another set of restrooms
down by the other conference rooms near Bailey. If you go left, you come to
Bailey-Hobson and if you go right you will get to the Naper room, which is
where our general sessions will be held. Outside of the Naper room we will
have exhibits, and we will have our registration.

 

There is a dog relief area outside of the Naper room. Exit and walk a short
way, then make a forty-five-degree left turn. There is a cement patio area
on the left about thirty feet up. At the end of the patio, you will find a
grassy area with trees; it will work well for dog relief. There is even a
hydrant!

 

Both breakfasts and our lunch are scheduled to be held in Conference Room A.
Hospitality before and after the banquet will be offered in the banquet
room, Bailey-Hobson. The parents' meeting will be held in Conference Room C.
Kids Camp is planned for Conference Room F. The scholarship dinner will be
held in Conference Room E. IABS Idol and General Sessions for Friday and
Saturday will be in Naper 2 and 3. The banquet and the Sunday General
Sessions are in Bailey-Hobson. Registration is outside of the Naper room.

 

Set-up for Naper Room: When you enter the Naper Room it is wider from left
to right and shorter going ahead from the doors. You enter at the back of
the room. We will have information and IABS tables in the back of the room,
and the head table will be furthest from the doors by the windows. If you
face the head table, audio will be on your right and door prizes on the
left.

 

 

 

COME SPIN WITH ME

by Cathy Randall

 

Exercise has been an important part of my busy life for over forty years.
Dr. Kenneth Jernigan, my dear NFB mentor, advised me to lead a balanced
life--and I have always tried to do that. Too much of any one activity can
make a person one-dimensional and possibly less interesting to herself and
to others.

 

Over the years, I have enjoyed various forms of exercise, including running
and fast walking with guides, floor exercise classes, swimming laps, and
water aerobics. I have taken part in all these activities as a totally blind
person.

 

Now, let me introduce you to spinning. To take part in this exercise, you
ride a modified bicycle without wheels in a gym with a number of other
people who are doing the same thing. First you stand beside the bike and
learn to adjust the seat to the height of your hip. Next you sit on the bike
seat, lean over, and put one foot in the stirrup, which is attached to the
pedal. Then you tighten the stirrup as you are shown by the teacher and
repeat the process for your other foot. It is very important to have the
stirrups tight, because you either stand or sit for all spinning exercises.

 

Once you have adjusted the stirrups, you increase or release tension on the
pedals by turning a knob between your knees. The tension knob is where the
bar would be on a standard boy's bike. The more you increase the tension on
the pedals, the harder you will need to work! When your instructor asks you
to "put on more road," he or she is asking you to add more tension.

 

Spinning class is very verbal, and you don't have to learn many commands. It
is important that you pace yourself as you learn this exercise. You have to
work through either a thirty- or forty-five-minute class, and you want to
work steadily throughout that period. As your conditioning improves, you
will be able to put more tension on your pedals.

 

When you go to a spin class, take at least a thirty-ounce bottle of water
with you. Learn to stretch your water supply so it lasts to the end of
class. Your water bottle is probably the most important part of your
spinning equipment.

 

For class I wear comfortable shorts, a T-shirt, good athletic socks, and
tennis shoes. I tuck a bandana loosely around my neck inside the T-shirt to
absorb sweat. I also wear a terrycloth headband, which is another good sweat
absorber. It is handy to wear a fannypack holding your keys and phone. Bring
a towel and several sets of earplugs. Without earplugs I find that the music
can be uncomfortably loud. I can hear the instructor's commands easily
through the plugs. During late fall and winter, you may want to wear
loose-fitting yoga pants and a long-sleeved T-shirt.

 

Year round you will really get hot from spinning, so dress for your own
comfort. Personally, I don't like real biking shorts because of the tight
band around the thigh.

 

I have been spinning for over nine years with friends, and they are now very
dear friends indeed. Have fun and get fit!

 

 

 

SKIING WITH THE VIKINGS

by Denise R. Avant

 

I was deep in preparations for the 2015 NFBI convention when I received an
unexpected call from Miriam Omquist, one of the US coordinators of Ski for
Light. She told me I had been selected as one of two US crosscountry  skiers
to take part in a week-long skiing event in Norway, all expenses paid!

 

I had never traveled outside the United States before, and I was thrilled to
be offered this amazing opportunity. Immediately I began to prepare for the
trip, which would take place in early April of 2016. I thought carefully
about my NFBI commitments, knowing that I would have very little email or
telephone communication for the ten days while I was away. The toughest part
was that I was sworn to secrecy until my selection was announced publicly,
and that wouldn't happen until the end of January. I was totally excited
about my trip, but for months I couldn't say a word to anyone.

 

Ski for Light (SFL) is a nonprofit organization that was founded in Norway
in 1964. It came to the United States in 1975, but has always had very
strong Norwegian connections. The mission of SKI for Light is to give blind,
visually impaired, and orthopedically impaired persons the opportunity to
enjoy crosscountry skiing. Each skier is paired with a guide throughout
every Ski for Light event. Skiers and guides tend to form close bonds,
developing rapport as they ski together, and joining the other participants
and guides at the lodge for fun in the evenings. 

 

I had been taking part in SFL events in the United States for five years
before I was invited to go to Norway. As one of only two US participants at
the Norwegian event, I felt I had a certain responsibility as an ambassador.
I hoped to repay the generous hospitality of my hosts and to make a positive
impression, both as an American and as a blind American. People from
fourteen countries took part in the event, and it was exciting to get to
know them.

 

When I arrived in Oslo I was surrounded by people speaking Norwegian and
other languages. It was unsettling to hear a barrage of words that I could
not understand. As a blind person, I could not pick up on the cues of body
language that would have given me at least some rudimentary information
about what was going on. I was almost wholly dependent upon people who could
speak to me in English.

 

Hotel buffets posed another challenge. Even when foods were described to me,
most of them were unfamiliar. I had no idea what I should put on my plate.
In the end I took my chances and sampled nearly everything. Stretching
myself in this way was part of the adventure of travel abroad.

 

Many of the street crossings in Oslo are equipped with audible traffic
signals. However, hotel rooms do not have Braille numbers on their doors. I
was shocked when the hotel staff refused to clean our room because of my
roommate's guide dog.

 

Although Norway is in many ways a highly advanced country, I discovered that
very few blind people are employed. Blind people automatically receive a
government stipend. I only met one blind Norwegian who had a job; she worked
at a university.

 

After a night in Oslo we went north to the snow fields. We skied every day
from Monday through Saturday. When we returned to Oslo to catch our flights,
I had time for a bit of sightseeing. I visited the Resistance Museum, which
documented Norway's history during World War II. I also went to the Skiing
Museum.

 

Crosscountry skiing is a wonderful experience. It's great to be outdoors,
having fun and getting healthy exercise. You can learn more about Ski for
Light by visiting their website, www.skiforlight.org. 

 

 

 

PLAYING WITH CLAY

by Deborah Kent Stein

 

When I was four years old, my mother set up a child-sized table in the
corner of the kitchen. On the table she put some plastic forks and knives, a
few alluminum dishes, and a box of Plasticene, a brand of modeling clay
commonly sold in toy stores. She explained that while she was cooking dinner
I could make believe I was preparing a meal, too.

 

I was the oldest of three children, with two noisy, rambunctious little
brothers. My mother hoped the clay would keep me occupied while she juggled
between cooking and caring for the younger children. As far as keeping me
busy, the plan exceeded her expectations.

 

I didn't care about pretending to cook, but I loved playing with clay. I
rolled long coils between my hands and twisted them into snakes. I learned
to make a ball by rolling the clay between my palms. If I pressed a smaller
ball onto a big one, I had the basis for a variety of animals. I could add
long ears and a tiny tail to make a rabbit, or I could stick on short ears
and a snake of a tail to create a cat.

 

Plasticene came in sticks, each one a different color. I was totally blind,
and at first I didn't care whether I made a green dog or a red banana. My
mother used my interest in clay to help me understand the role of color in
the world. When I unwrapped a new package of Plasticene, she showed me which
stick was blue, which was red, which was green, and which was brown. "Brown
is a good color for a dog," she told me. "You can use green and blue and red
for birds." Soon I was interrupting her dinner preparations to ask, "What
color is a rhinoceros?" and "What color is a sea monster?"

 

Over the years I acquired more clay, more tools, and more space, with my own
table in the basement. I made towns with cardboard houses and clay people. I
made clay forests filled with multicolored birds. I made a castle with clay
walls, a drawbridge of Popsicle sticks, and tall clay watchtowers.

 

One summer day my family visited the boardwalk at Asbury Park on the New
Jersey shore. We kids stuffed ourselves with saltwater taffy, shrieked our
way through the fun-house, and visited the Ripley's Believe-It-or-Not
Museum. My cousin gave me lurid descriptions of the two-headed calf, the
tentacle of the giant squid, and the baby with transparent skin, all out of
my reach in glass jars.

 

At last we came upon an object that was out in the open, something I could
experience for myself. It was a life-sized, sculpted head. I studied the
regular features, the thick, curly hair, and the intricate whorls of the
ears. What was this head doing here, among the oddities of nature?

 

My cousin read the printed caption. "This head was fashioned by a man who
was totally blind," it stated. "He made this likeness using only his sense
of touch. Believe it or not!"

 

I wondered how the nameless blind man felt about having his piece on exhibit
in the Ripley's Museum. Did people really think a blind artist was as
bizarre as a two-headed calf?

 

On my thirteenth birthday my grandfather gave me six big blocks of clay--not
from a toy store, but from a store that sold real art supplies. He explained
that this was an oil-based clay that never dried out and could be used over
and over again. If I took care of it, he promised, it would last as long as
I lived.

 

A few months later my mother and I visited a local art gallery. Without
hesitation, the proprietor allowed me to touch all of the pieces on display.
I studied life-sized ceramic heads, bronze nudes, and an assortment of
animal figures. I discovered that art was not confined to realistic forms,
and I found that artists worked in media as varied as balsa wood, papier
maché, plaster, brass wire, and welded steel.

 

Inspired by a series of animal sculptures I'd seen at the gallery, I went
home to my blocks of birthday clay. Night after night I rushed through my
homework, eager to get back to my work in progress. It was the detailed
figure of a lion, its head lifted above its outstretched front paws. When it
was finished, my mother set it on a shelf in the living room and showed it
proudly to any friends who dropped in.

 

One of the family friends who saw the lion was a professional artist named
Don Miller. To my amazement he offered to buy the lion from me for five
dollars. A few weeks later he returned with a plaster cast of the original
clay figure. It resided on top of the television for the next twenty years.

 

Don Miller's interest transformed the way my family and I thought about my
hobby. No longer did I play with clay. From that time forward, I did
sculpture!

 

At college I majored in English, but for one of my electives I signed up to
take a studio sculpture course. I looked forward to exploring fresh
possibilities and learning new techniques. When I arrived at the first
class, however, the instructor, Mr. D., announced that I would have to drop
the course. "Sculpture is very visual," he explained. "You won't be able to
participate. It would be a waste of your time and mine for you to enroll in
this class."

 

I was shocked by Mr. D.'s narrow perspective. He utterly dismissed the idea
that anyone could create or appreciate sculpture without eyesight. Even when
I showed him some of my previous work, he insisted that there was no place
for me in his class.

 

I was so angry that I refused to give up. I was determined to take the
class, even if Mr. D. made me hate every moment of it. I went to the head of
the art department, who sent me up the ladder to the dean. The dean ruled
that I could take Mr. D.'s class, with the condition that I would have an
assistant with me at all times--essentially a classroom aide. According to
the dean, the assistant would help me find the art supplies in the
classroom. In reality, he was there as a buffer between me and Mr. D. The
instructor and I barely spoke to each other all semester.

 

Despite this unpromising arrangement, I learned a great deal in Mr. D.'s
class. I experimented with wood carving and made mobiles with dangling wire
figures. Most important of all, I gained an invaluable lesson in
self-advocacy. I learned not to give up when a person in authority told me
no. I discovered that I could fight my way past barriers to education and
experience.

 

My interest in sculpture has never flagged, though I've encountered plenty
of believe-it-or-not reactions along the way. I create three-dimensional
works with my hands, yet vision-oriented friends and strangers often find it
amazing and inexplicable. I strive to be judged not as a blind sculptor, but
as a sculptor.

 

In my study of sculpture I always felt that blindness posed one
insurmountable obstacle. My fellow students worked by looking at live human
models. The only way I could use a model was through touch, and I couldn't
conceive of touching someone's nude body in order to make a clay figure. I
worked from imagination or used plastic models that I found in art supply
stores. I studied a human skeleton to learn about structure and proportion.
Nevertheless, I knew I was missing an aspect of training that is critical to
most serious students of art.

 

In 2011 I enrolled in a sculpture class at the Palette and Chisel, a
long-established art school in Chicago. Ralph Cossentino, the instructor,
had taught other blind students, and he welcomed me into his class. I began
by sculpting the head of Michaelangelo, basing my piece on a large plastic
model that belonged to the school. From there I moved on to a self-portrait,
exploring my own face and using myself as a model. But Ralph was determined
that I should have the same opportunities as his sighted students. He asked
me if I would like to work with a live model.

 

I was stunned by the question. On one hand I was thrilled to find an
instructor so eager to broaden my learning opportunities. On the other hand,
I felt apprehensive and uncertain. Society has strong prohibitions against
touching other people. Artists' models are very comfortable with being
observed visually, but touch would cross a boundary that, under most
circumstances, is strictly forbidden. I worried about how both the model and
I would feel, no matter how professionally we treated the situation. 

 

In spite of my reservations, I knew this was a chance that might never come
to me again. Ralph talked with the model, a young woman named Jessica. He
suggested that I begin by doing a hand study, and Jessica said that would be
fine with her. As I worked with the clay, I paused frequently to examine
Jessica's outstretched hand. Step by step I worked to replicate the complex
mechanics of muscle and bone. Yet a precise reproduction wasn't enough. The
idea was to convey some form of emotional expression, the subtle difference
between anatomy and art.

 

I sculpted another hand piece, followed by a foot study. Then I did a
sculpture of Jessica's head, complete with her magnificent braid. At last
Ralph suggested that I was ready to attempt a full, seated figure. By that
time Jessica and I were very comfortable working together, and we both said
we were ready to give it a try.

 

As it turned out, Ralph was more nervous than Jessica and I. He confessed
later that he was worried about the administrators of the Palette and
Chisel. What would they say when they found out that a student was touching
the nude model in one of the sculpture classes? To his relief and mine, the
director of the school had no objections. In fact, he commended Ralph for
his flexibility and spirit of innovation.

 

I have now worked with several models, both female and male. Each has been
generously receptive to working with me. The models have always approached
our work together as experienced professionals, and I owe them my deepest
appreciation. 

 

I have met many blind people who are convinced that they do not understand
sculpture or raised-line drawings. They are intimidated by the thought of
working with clay or other art materials. To my delight, a growing number of
people in the National Federation of the Blind are working to break down the
notion that art is out of bounds for us as blind people. Some have even
suggested that we expand our efforts in the STEM fields to include art. STEM
could become STEAM--science, technology, engineering, art, and math. Few
people, blind or sighted, ever become professional artists, but art can
enrich life for us all.

 

When my mother set up that little table in the kitchen, she couldn't have
imagined where my love of clay would lead me. And my grandfather was right
about that oil-based clay he gave me for my thirteenth birthday. I still
have a three-pound package of it, carefully wrapped, and it is as moist and
moldable as ever. It looks as though it will last for as long as I live.

 

 

 

IN MEMORIAM: LEANNE MAYNE

 

Federationists were saddened to learn of the passing of LeAnne M. Mayne on
June 28, 2016. She died at the Leonard Memorial Home in Glen Ellyn,
Illinois, after a long illness. She was sixty-two years old.

 

LeAnne was born in New York City on December 4, 1953. When she was only
three days old her father brought her to Illinois, where she was raised by
aunts in the Chicago area. She attended the Illinois School for the Blind
(now the Illinois School for the Visually Impaired) in Jacksonville.
Diagnosed with juvenile diabetes as a small child, she was not expected to
live beyond her thirties. LeAnne defied the expectations of the doctors and
lived a full and active life for as long as she could.

 

After she finished school LeAnne operated the Mayneway Vending Company,
which had multiple locations. For a time she and her husband, Jeff, ran a
pizza parlor in Rockville, Illinois.

 

LeAnne Mayne was a dedicated member of the NFB of Illinois. She worked
diligently on many state and national fundraising campaigns. At chapter
meetings and conventions she was always ready to pitch in wherever a pair of
hands was needed.

 

LeAnne was predeceased by her brother, Michael Cramer, who was also a
dedicated Illinois Federationist. She is survived by her stepmother,
Patricia Mayne; and by her boyfriend of sixteen years, Blair Alper. 

 



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