Happy Labor Day

I have had lots of jobs

     Sometimes I feel a little guilty being retired when other people are still working.
     Then I realize I have been working since I was 11 or 12.  Seriously.
     I had a paper route through a factory.  Sold the Daily News and Chicago American.  On Thursdays I would ride with Swede on the Daily News truck.  I would run papers into stores and news stands while he waited in the truck.  I also would take over the news stand for Jim.  This was a wooden shack at Ashland and Irving.  He sold all sorts of magazines and papers.  He seemed to be a really nice guy.  I remember he had a kerosene heater in the shack and I loved the smell of the heater on those cold winter days when he was gone and I was in charge.
     I worked at a local food store, then at age 16 I worked at a National Tea Store on Ashland Avenue as a stock boy, bagger, produce guy....you name it.  I still have a scar on my right knee from my first day on the job.  Turns out I did not know how to use a hand truck with a load of boxes on it.  I pushed back and was immediately pinned to the ground by several cases of Campbell's soup.
    Worked at a Jewel food store while in college.  I was in the deli, working with a great group of people.  Mona, Sandy, Bruno...we made quite a team.  And during the school year, I worked at Williston Hall in food service one year and at the Northern Star one year.
     I delivered Lava lamps.  Well, at least for one week.  I ended up back at Jewel when they found out I could not drive a stick shift.
     Worked for the post office as a substitute clerk carrier.
     Had a three hour shift at McDonald's........seems you can't ask for days off on your first day.
     Worked in a hospital as a pharmacy technician.
     Worked construction for Tilton Industries.  I actually helped build the fort structures that were in front of the old Vagabond, at the entrance off 251.  Later these were moved to Skare Park.
     Worked second shift at Caron Yarn.
     Was at the Rochelle News Leader for 11 years.
     Unloaded seed corn and learned to play euchre at Funks in Ashton.
     Was hired to teach fourth grade at Tilton.
     Drove a pea picking combine for Del Monte.
     Taught summer school.
     So when I turned 60 and could retire, I did.  I was tired.  Tired of working, of getting up every morning and being some place.  Tired of following rules and regulations.
     So on this labor Day, I celebrate not working.
     And I salute those of you who are still on the job, building houses, fixing cars, teaching kids, saving lives.
     May you never grow tired.

I used to be a reader...

I have not read a book all summer

     I am ashamed to admit that.  I love reading.  I love books.
     I went to Barnes and Noble and bought 3 books.....I have only opened one of them.  Early in my life I read Leaves of Grass by Walt Whitman, but I did not put a lot of thought into it.  Now that I am older, I thought it would be good to revisit the book.  The language is wonderful, the imagery powerful.  But I can't seem to read for more than 5 minutes before my eye lids grow heavy.  I have also started a Bill Bryson book......but I have been reading that for three months and am only half way through it.  It is a funny book, dated, but funny.
     Three other books are sitting on the book case, gathering dust.
     What happened?
     Well, I do spend time working the Sunday crosswords from the Tribune.  I have about 6 weeks worth in various stages of completion.  I like to check the correct answers with my answers.  Sometimes I am close to finishing a puzzle so I save it to complete, but that causes problems.
     I don't have much weeding to do.  Sure, I spend one day a week out in the flowers, fertilizing, weeding and deadheading, but it is only about 3 hours at the most.
     And yes, my blog takes about 40 minutes a night.  I do try to check spelling and punctuation, and I know sometimes errors slip through.  But I do put some effort into this little project.
     So where does my time go?
Facebook and Spider Solitaire. And Cubs games.
     I read the comments people make to posts, I read posts, I reply to posts.  All that takes time.  More time than I should be spending on it.
     And Spider Solitaire?  Well, my addiction continues.  I can't seem to do a blog without playing one or two or three games.  It clears my head an organizes my thoughts.
     But they both eat into time I should be doing something else.
     So I am going to lessen my computer time.  Sure, I will still read the Tribune on line, but I am going to cut down on the time I spend playing games and checking Facebook.  The Cubs will be done soon, so that frees up a lot of time.
     Maybe by October I will have caught up with my summer reading.
     Or at least finished Leaves of Grass.

a little piece of paradise

I miss going to Mackinaw Island

     Jackie and I would go up there at the end of the school year.  We would stay two or three nights in a bed and breakfast on the island...the Metevier Inn.  The last year was the year after I retired.  I enjoyed a special bottle of wine that I got as a retirement present on the porch of the inn.
     We would ride our bikes around the island.  After the MS set in, Jackie would sit on the porch while I rode my bike around the island.
     I discovered if you approached the Grand Hotel from the side, you could actually sit on the porch and rock, even though the hotel was restricted to guests only.
     One year we went to the luncheon buffet at the Grand.  If I remember it was $30 or $40 a person, but that included a tour of the hotel.
     We went into the dining room and I swore I thought I was in heaven.
     There was a football field's length of food!  A fish table, a meat table, a salad table, a fruit table..... a table for any kind of food imaginable.  And it was good food.  The fruits were fresh, the breads crisp and light, the meats done to perfection.
     I had already eaten too much when I discovered the dessert table....with 9 delicious offerings available.
     One dish looked particularly scrumptious, so I asked the two Sweet Young Things serving to tell me what it is.
     "Terra and Sue," I heard.
     "That's what the dessert is called?" I clarified.
     "Terra and Sue, sir."  I heard.
     "OK, let me ask again.  What is this dessert?"
     "Terra and Sue," was the reply again.
     Now I am not a connoisseur of food,  so I blundered right ahead.
     "OK, Terra and Sue, I really don't want to know your names....although I am flattered.  I just want to know the name of the dessert."
     They looked as if they had never seen an older guy with a hearing problem that for all they know was trying to hit on them when all I wanted was a slice of the damn cake.
     "Sir, those are not our names.  The name of the dessert is tiramisu."
     "Oh," I said.  "I would like a piece, please."
     There were 9 different desserts on that table, and I had 7 of them.  But the terra and sue was absolutely the best.
     I could barely walk back to our inn.  And I did not eat dinner that night.
     I would love to go back there, and not just for the desserts.  I loved sitting on the porch at the inn, having a cup of Earl Grey, and listening to the horses as they clip-clopped down the street.
     I even enjoyed the smell of the stables from across the street.
     Ttruly an amazing place.

I was just trying to help

Sometimes I put out Emily's garbage

     If I am there on a Thursday and I know she is working late, I will put the trash out.  Now I don't do that as much lately, John takes care of that.  But I do like to help out.
     So when I saw the huge bags of dog poop, I moved them out to the street where the garbage cans go.
     It was a Wednesday.  Recycling day is early Thursday, garbage day is early Friday.
    Em called me Thursday night with a question:  Where did I put the bags of dog poop?  I told her, by the road.
    They were gone.
    A thief?  Hardly.
    A curious person?  Probably not.
    The guys who pick up recyclables?
     I can hear the scream now when someone yells, "Holy shit!"
     They will be meaning it is actually that.  Not sure about the holy part, but I do know the rest is true.  Talk about a crappy day on the job, that had to be one.
     So I no longer take out the dog poop early.  I leave that for the Thursday night move to the curb.
     And I do apologize for being helpful.
     By the way, as I write this, the blog has had 9,960 page views!  I find that humbling, and yet I am a little proud of the fact you readers have stayed with me on this journey of embarrassing stories.
Thank you.

anyone seen dr. doolittle??

I am not a veterinarian

     I have not been trained as one, I have not practiced as one, I don't even think of being one.
     I was reminded of this tonight when a certain daughter asked me to basically puree fish for her crazy cat.  Jackie and I secretly felt relieved when Jaz disappeared, mainly because he is such an evil cat.  We were relieved, and maybe a little disappointed, when he returned, but we were happy for Emily.
     We had a dog a long long time ago.  Her name was Snooty.  She was a great dog, except for the tumor she had under her front left leg.  It was the size of a basketball.  She was like a little rolly polly...if she fell over she would just roll on her back until helped up.
     I had to give that dog an enema.  Folks, if you want to see a look of surprise and shock on a dog's face, try sticking a tube of something up its butt.  Jackie held her head while I had her between my legs at the back end......poor girl never looked at me the same way.  Neither of them. I had to do it twice.
     I was dog sitting at Emily's after one of her dogs had surgery.  Think it was Jake, not sure.  Anyway, the directions were clear.  Keep the bandage on.  Disinfect the wound nightly.  Keep the bandage on him.  (Repeated for emphasis.)
     I was fine the first two nights.  But night three was a disaster.
     There was an incision on his stomach.  I would hold the dog, remove the bandage, spray the wound, put the new bandage on, make sure it did not fall off.
     I struggled the third night...bandage stuck to some hair, was having trouble keeping him still.  So I grabbed the spray disinfectant, sprayed, bandaged, got up  ...... and saw the spray disinfectant on the counter.
     Looking at the bottle in my hand I discovered it was floor cleaner!  I sprayed a toxic chemical into the dog's wound!
     I called the vets office at 11 p.m., called the doctor at 11:03, called the emergency animal hospital at 11:06 and finally called the pet poison control line.
      Here's an edited version of that conversation.
     "Hello.  Is (name of ) floor cleaner fatal if sprayed into a dog's open wound?"
     "Did you say floor cleaner?"  as in, what are you, a freaking idiot?
     By the time the vet called me, evidently he was getting busy signals, I had managed to irrigate the wound with warm soapy water, followed by a rinse of warm water, and a patting dry.  The doc said the dog would be ok, but I lived in fear it would swell up and die.  At least it would smell lemony fresh.
     I once nurtured a baby bird back to death.  I am not good at taking care of animals.
     So I declined the invitation to puree fish.  With my luck, I would drop in an SOS pad or two and then where would we be?

visiting with the relative

I saw my second cousin for the first time in years

     I don't remember how long it has been.  He has grown a lot, aged a little, and bares a strong resemblance to his dad.
     Jim lives in New York City.  He married about three years ago and we were invited.  But Jackie was not well that summer, so we did not go.  I still regret that we did not make the trip.  She actually got better about a week before the wedding, but we did not reserve a room or book tickets.  That would have been a great time to reconnect with family.
     but Jim is in town on business and we went to pick him up at his hotel to go for pizza.  We were within 5 miles of the hotel and we were 45 minutes early.  So explain how we ended up 15 minutes lat!
     The map we printed off the computer sucked, is one reason.  When the last line reads "Arrived at destination'" you sort of expect to be at your destination.  Nothing.  Nada.
      So we drove.  We were looking for the name of a road, when we should have been looking for the number.  Rowling Road is also 53.  The map had 53 as kind of a side note.  So when we drove through the construction at 53 because the street signs were down, we thought we were still looking for the road, not passing it.
      I am a guy.  I don't ask directions.  So 20 minutes later when I stopped at a Holiday Inn to ask for directions to another hotel, I figured they would be able to easily direct me.  Not so, bell hop breath.  The very nice woman behind the counter ran a diretions quest, but could not get it to print.  Enter woman number two, who got it to print and sent us on our merry way.......10 minutes later.
     We made it to Jim's hotel only 15 minutes late, which is pretty good considering the poor quality of the original directions.
     So Jim, Jackie, John, Emily and I talked, told stories, caught up on each other's lives, made fun of normal people and ate too much pizza.
     It was a great time.
     Jim heads back to the Big Apple sometime this week, but he will be back.  Hopefully we can meet up again and share some more good food and good company.
     But we will use better maps, or maybe even a GPS.

hmm....this stew is good

I really didn't mean to poison people

     I quit my full time newspaper job to go into teaching.  I finished my requirements and continued on, getting a master degree in outdoor education from NIU. 

     The environmental movement was huge then... Earth Day, the Clean Air and Water Act, dependence on foreign oil....all were big issues in the early 1980s.

     Outdoor ed majors were a strange bunch.  Yes, they were environmentalists, but I don't think that was a name people took for themselves.

     I took one class that many Rochelle people still recall.  Vividly.  Outdoor cooking.  Preparing meals in the outdoors, using basic supplies like a Dutch oven.  

     Ironically, you can't use a Dutch oven on many camping trips because they weigh about 50 pounds.      But, that's a digression.

     I invited the guys out  for Dutch oven stew and home made biscuits, all baked over a fire in the back yard on Mill Pond.  All the wives and girl friends must have been at a shower or something.

     We had some wine.  I remember drinking rhubarb wine that Jackie and I brought back from the Amana colonies.  There were other bottles of wine, and some beer also.

     But the stew was the highlight.  Everyone had at least two helpings.  And wine.  And biscuits.

     Maybe I just have a stronger stomach...lord knows I eat everything in sight.  And the next day, I was the only one who could venture out of the house.

     I maintain it wasn't the cooking that gave five guys the runs.  But I admit it could have.  All I know is I didn't have a problem, and I ate the stew too.

     And by the way, I aced that class.

Almost perfect

Meatloaf once sang, 2 out of 3 ain't bad

     I had a great time at the Buffet concert....good food, good friends, good music, good weather....all added up to a great time.
     Sunday was almost perfect.  The Cubs put together a solid pitching effort with an excuse me offense and managed a series sweep of the Orioles.  I'm thinking this is also 4 in a row.......500 hear we come!
     I did discover the problem with taking the train on Sunday.  Metra only runs every two hours.   And it takes 45 minutes or so from Dan's house to hit the train on time.....I gave myself 50 minutes from my house 'cause I am old, tired and don't think well sometimes.  I barely made the train...the conductor started waving to me when I tried to pay for free parking and the doors were closing as I put my foot up on the first step.
     But the big problem is the return.  I honestly planned on hitting the 6:40 back.  My reasoning was the game will go to 4:30, so the 6:40 would be feasible.
     The game ended at about 4.  I waved my W, beelined for the L, got on a waiting train crammed full of smelly Cub fans, and changed for the Brown Line at Belmont.  The Brown Line is about 4 blocks west of the Red Loop stop, saving valuable minutes.
     Except the Brown line runs every 15 minutes or so.  I thought of hopping back on the Red and going to the look and doing a fast walk, but the trains were packed tight....I don't think I could have gotten on unless I was covered with butter.
     So there I was.  Too late for the 4:40.....2 hours from the 6:40.  I did stop for food, since I did not eat at the ball park today.  Dan and Linda missed my call, and by the time we reconnected I was at the train station at about 5:20 and didn't feel like walking back to their place.
     So I wandered around the station, bought some popcorn, wandered around the station again, sat in the waiting room and at 6:15 boarded the train to Elburn.
     If the game had gone into extra innings, or been rain delayed, I would still have had to catch that 6:40 because the next train is 8:40......
     I like taking the train.  No traffic, no tolls, no parking costs.  But the next Sunday game will see me driving in instead.  I just didn't like killing 90 minutes when I could have been home in about that same time.
     The unsuccessful part of the weekend:  No phone call from Amboy.  I guess I did not win the humongous 50/50 raffle.
     But like the song goes, two out of three ain't bad.
   

cheeseburgers in Paradise

I attended my fourth Jimmy Buffet concert

     Carrie invited me to my first one, three years ago.  I think it was because I had a van.  Plus, I don't drink a lot, and I don't drink when I drive.
     Whatever the reason, it was a blast.  Buffet does a great show.
      I went to two of them last year.  The first was in Chicago at Northerly Island.  I think it was the first concert there.  They had sodded the lawn three days before the show, and the day of the show it poured rain.  It was a sea of mud by the time the show started.
     Because of that fiasco, we got free tickets to Alpine Valley for  Buffet.
     This year we went back to Alpine Valley.  It is really a great venue, if you don't mind waiting forever to get out of the parking lot.  Seriously...one road out for 30,000 people is not conducive to fast exits.
     This year we got there about 4, cooked out, visited with each other and with the pirates around us.  We went into the venue, found a couple of good spots on the lawn, and watched Jimmy for two hours.
      Yes it was humid, and warm.  But it never rained.  The bugs were not bad.  The music was great....like a giant sing a long.
     And everyone once in a while you would catch an odd odor on the wind...burger cooking, skunk spraying, doobies being passed.  But surprisingly, there never seems to be a lot obvious marijuana use..
     The drinking, on the other hand, is huge.  Kind of scary to think some of those people may be driving.
     But a good time was had by all.  It is now a little past 2 a.m.  I am getting a bit tired.  Hopefully I can catch a nap on my way to the Cub game later today!

call the doctor...I'm optimistic!

I think this is going to be a great weekend

   I know, I usually don't gush with excitement over something positive.  I am a half empty glass kind of guy.
     So why do I feel so good about this weekend?
    One good sign is Emily's cat coming back!  Jaz disappeared two weeks ago but tonight he showed up, evidently none the worse for wear.
     Early Saturday I going to make a quick trip to help set up the Thrive Garden Market in DeKalb, then I'm going to come home and go to the market in Rochelle.  I love going to see all the crafts and what evers that are sold there.  Sometimes I even buy something, although I admit I mostly buy edible stuff.
     Saturday night Parrotheads are gathering at Alpine Valley to sing along with Jimmy Buffet. Seriously, almost every song he performs people sing with him.
     This is my fourth concert.  I generally am the designated driver, which is fine with me.  I just love watching the people and soaking up the feel good vibe there.  Maybe I'll even dance a little this time!
Sure, it will be hot and muggy, but that will make it feel more like Key West!
    Sunday I've got a Cubs game...and they are on a roll.  Ok, they won today, but I do believe they will win again Sunday!  Good pitching, good hitting, good fielding, will lead to a Win.  Watch for me on TV as I dance crazily with my big W flag after the game!!
     But the big positive I am going to do well feeling comes when they announce the winner of the Amboy Depot Days 50/50 drawing.  It will be me!!  And if you don't know, that is a huge 50/50!!  My phone will be out of order Monday morning.
     So a little 100 heat temp day won't interfere.  Or rain.  Or a cub loss.  Or .....wait a minute.  I am hopping off that negativity train right now!
    Why, I think I'll even buy a lotto ticket.......nah, I better not overdo the positivity thing.

holy crap! what are you doing???

I sleep with my eyes open

     Not wide open, but open a slit.
     Jackie screamed the first time she noticed.  She thought I was awake, but I was really asleep.  When she realized that, she yelled.
     It can be a little upsetting, I imagine.  Granted, I have never seen it, but I guess it would be creepy, a little.
     There are advantages.
     Last night when I was sleeping in the chair, the lightning woke me up.  Not the thunder, but the lightning.  That flashing made me stir and eventually wake up.  The prostate may have helped, to be honest.  (I used to call it my prostrate...as if I was laying down.)
     But the big disadvantage is I sometimes have a hard time getting to sleep.  There is so much light at night.  The radio, the smoke detectors, the hall lights, the oven and microwave.....it never gets dark in the house.
     I was in the basement enjoying some Netflix time when I turned out the light and was shocked at how dark it is down stairs.  Of course, I stubbed my toe and walked into a wall, but that's the price you pay for darkness.
     If Jackie moves around the room and I am asleep, I will sometimes see her and wake up.  Not always, just sometimes.
     The smoke detector in our bedroom flashes a green light onto the floor.  Weird.  I don't think the others do that, but I have never looked.
     I wonder if I was asleep, and someone was standing near me and making faces, or gestures....would I see them and remember them when I wake up?
     What if someone held up lighted signs?  Would it all be subliminal messages?
     That could be a breakthrough in my life!  Get a subliminal message board in the bedroom, program it, and let me watch it while I sleep.
     That might be kind of cool!
   
   

I am sharing my to do list

I have a list of things I need to do

These are in no particular order.  I am sharing them with you in hopes you will encourage me to do something on the list.  Lord knows, procrastination has a price.

Organize pictures from Italy.  No, I have not done that yet.  Yes, I want to get it done before we go this year.  No, you can't help.

Have Dan and Linda over to look at the pictures......was going to do that this summer!

Aerate the lawn, over seed the lawn, fertilize the lawn.  I need to do this in mid September.  Hopefully the ground will get saturated by a rain and I can actually run an aerator that will makes holes and not wildly bounce.

Kill weeds along the driveway.

Wash and wax the van.

Wash and wax the car.

Vacuum out the cars and clean the interior windows.

Organize the pictures from the 2012 trip......someone was going to come down and look at pictures with me this summer so we could organize both sets....where did the time go!

Fill in holes and low spots in yard.  Probably should do that before I  aerate and seed.  I have several holes that look like burrows....but there is no dirt around them.  It's like a critter carried off the dirt and put it somewhere else.  Weird.

Measure the basement ceiling and order the tile.

Put up firing strips so I can hang the tile.

Hang the dang tile.

Hang my bike,  No, this is not revenge for throwing me, but a way to get it out of the way for winter.

Lose 15 pounds.

Find window covers for the basement egress windows so they don't fill up with snow like they did last year.

Figure out how to mail the Rotary newsletter.

Work on my Dewey Lake effort.   I don't want to call it a book, because so far, is isn't....just a bunch of stories tied together very loosely.

Find and plant four trees for the back yard.  This may be a spring project.  Looking for a hickory, red bud, bur oak, and one more that I can't seem to remember.

Buy a new pocket camera.  I am looking....still confused.

I know there are other things I need to do, but I just can't remember what they are.  Maybe I need to actually keep a list.

So, if you see me, ask me if I got any done.  Remind me winter is approaching fast and some of these things need to be done before the first snow hits the ground.

What happened?

I seem to be Rip Van Winkle

     I am in a time warp.  And not the kind where you step to the left, then the right, and bring your knees in tight.
     I donned (wanted to use that in a sentence for a while) a tie-dyed t shirt today to go work in the garden at St. Paul's in DeKalb.  Afterward, I stopped at Walgreen to visit Emily and check to see if I had any prescriptions.  (This is a daily routine.  Jackie and I have dozens of drugs that we get through Walgreen and it seems every day we have a med to pick up. )
     She commented on my t shirt.  OK, it wasn't a nice comment.  She asked if I often wore that out in public.  AJ agreed that it looked good on me.
     That got me to thinking about the shirt.  Gwen used to teach fifth grade with me.  Her daughter made the shirt.  Gwen went to the middle school when it opened....using my math skills here....those sixth graders were the first in the middle school, and the first in the high school....high school is 10 years old....
     I think my shirt is about 14 years old.
     Which is younger than my totem pole t shirt that Jackie and I got in 1998 when we went to Alaska.  Yes, I still wear it.  Yes, it is a little worn.  It has become a paint shirt.
      Then I got to looking at "nice" pants.  Those are pants I wear when jeans or shorts just don't work well.  I have at least two pairs I wore when teaching.  I have been out of teaching 7 years.
       Now, I am not saying my clothing is old and worn out.  But it is old.
       And I am too cheap to replace it.
       I must have 30 summer shirts hanging in the closet.  I wear about 6 of them.  I have 15 t shirts that I wear regularly.  I can go almost 5 weeks without washing a shirt and not wearing one twice.  Why?  Because they were good bargains.  I liked the shirt.  It was on sale.
       Do I like all the shirts?  NO!  But that OCD seems to kick in and I can't decide which ones to toss.
       Maybe I should just take the first one off the rack and wear it.  If I don't like it, I should get rid of it.  When a shirt comes out of the wash, I should put it at the end of the line and keep taking from the front.
     Eventually I should weed out the shirts I don't like.  Or that don't fit.
     That sounds like a plan.  I will do that starting tomorrow.  
      I should be finished by fall, then I can start on the long sleeved shirts.  That should take a while.
     It seems like yesterday that I was working, and here I am, seven years later.
     Where did my life go??


     
     

Looks like it is that time of year again

I do miss school, sometimes

     I admit, I do miss being at school.  The start of the school year is so exciting for the kids, so full of promise for the teachers, just a great time to be at school.
     I love doing back to school shopping.  Jackie and I always look for bargains to buy and take to school for kids who may not have all the needed supplies.  This year we bought folders, pencils, notebooks, pens, markers, erasers, glue......the staples.
     But we didn't buy paper.  Notebook paper has always been cheap at the start of the year.  I remember buying 300 page packs for 50 cents.  This year, I could not find a bargain anywhere.  In fact,      I thought it was pretty expensive.  I hope kids aren't as wasteful this year.
     But I do miss the buzz.
     When you work at a place for a long time, the people are not just coworkers.  You become a family.       You learn about their illnesses, their problems, their joys, their victories......you become a part of their lives and they become a part of yours.
      And when you leave that family, you are no longer  in their lives.  Sure, you are still friends, but interests change, commonalities change.
     Suddenly twins that were ten are now 17.  Spouses have changed jobs, sometimes spouses have changed.  I slowly become the outsider looking in.
     This is not meant to be maudlin, just a fact of life.  My interests too have changed. I really don't care about curriculum or which kid is doing what in whose classroom.  Common core could be two holes in the backyard for all I care.
     But I like my teacher family and I miss them, especially when school starts, the weather gets hot, everyone has one common complaint about papers sticking to their arms and kids falling asleep in the heat.
     I may be sitting in air conditioned comfort, or catching a few zzzzs on the porch chaise, maybe having an afternoon coffee or tea......but I'll also be thinking of my extended family.
     I will be wishing for them to have cool weather, a great group of kids, wonderful parents.  I will be wishing for them to light up the lives of the children they have this year.  I will be wishing for them to make a difference in a life.
     And who knows, maybe I'll go and just stand outside and look in to remind me of what I am missing.

what a weekend

I had a really busy, great weekend

     These last three days have passed in a blur.
     I had a zoo day Friday, which is always a great day.  By the way, in the Tribune today they had an  article in the entertainment section on the way zoo displays are being changed to make it more interesting for the animals and guests.  Verrrrry interesting.
     The museum had some craft projects Saturday, along with the dedication of Debby's closet.  Debby VanDyke was a long time Rochelle resident, librarian at RTHS, museum backer, and friend.  She died in 2013 and her dream of having a dress up space in the museum  for youngsters was realized with the opening of the closet Saturday.  Folks, it was a moving moment, filled with happiness and sadness at the same time.
      I had a spinner craft to make with kids.  It went pretty well, except they don't make the noise they usually make.  The spinners, not the kids.  I think the wood was just too thin.
     Frank and his wife Barb brought their Impala out for the car show, his brother John joined him, we visited, cooked out, caught up, reminisced, laughed.....a great time.
    The parade Sunday was hot.  I took pictures of the crowd from my perch on the museum unit.  Maybe I'll download them to FB at some point.
     If you visited the craft area, you probably saw the Rotary booth with the calendars for sale.  Seriously, good price, good cause.  For $20 you get a calendar that has lots of coupons, including half price offers from Beacon on the Green and Flight Deck, and you get the chance to win cash!  Each day of the year, a winner is drawn.  Usually it is $25, but it could be $50, $100 or even $1,000!
     What happens with the money?  Rotary funnels it back into local groups.  This year the sales benefit Focus House, the Rochelle Food Pantry, Hope, all sorts of agencies helping the people who need it most.
    To be honest, this is my third year of calendar sales....and only one person of mine has won.  I may be a jinx.  A woman I go to church with summed it up when I told her that:  "This is a type of thing you don't care if you win....you do it because it matters."  So, buy a calendar.  If not from me, then from someone else.
     I even managed to get Jackie out to see JD Brown tonight!  We almost made it 'til the end....but aching backs and sore legs caused an early exit.
     A lot of people get involved in the Heritage Festival.  They are working long hours this week in setting up, taking down, and cleaning up....they all deserve our thanks and a round of applause.
     Heck.....you could even buy them a calendar to show your appreciation!

those were the days

I had a great time with old friends today

     During the car show at today's festival, I had a chance to visit with Frank and Barb.  This is John's brother and sister in law.  Frank has a 67 Impala convertible, although it may be a 65 .... but it is red with white interior, just like the colors of Lake View High School.  John came out to the car show and afterwards we all went back to my house for a cookout.
     John, Frank and I all went to Lake View.  We had some classes together, did some extra curricular activities together, formed a club, hung around, and were friends.
      Time does some terrible things to us.  It ages us.  Our bodies don't go as quickly as we want.  Sometimes they don't even go where we want.
    We talked about playing soft ball in the alley behind their home in Chicago. Realize, an alley was about maybe 16 feet wide.  Two cars could pass, but not easily.  We had four or five people on a team, sometimes more.
     We played with a 16 inch clincher...I still have one.... and we did not use mitts.  I do have a couple of fingers that don't go straight, I think because I jammed them catching a ball.
     And since the alley was narrow, you taught yourself to hit straight.  When we moved to a playground, left and right fielders and first and third basement were useless, because everyone learned to hit toward center field.
     We had a walking, talking scoreboard, with a local guy who would announce the game, giving us each names of real ball players and made up game statistics.
      During the summer, we would play all day, taking a break only for jobs or family demands.  Games seemed to have no end, and often the score was debatable.
     And not only did we go to high school, we went to the same grammar school....which means we were together for a long time.  We were not always in the same class, but in the same year of school...if that makes sense.
     We talked about other classmates and the fact that next year is our 50th reunion...and maybe our last.
     I am torn about going.  I love visiting with Frank and John, but we can do that anytime for a lot less money than the reunion will cost.
     I do wonder about other people in our class who I have lost touch with, how their lives went, what they are doing now.
     I never thought of myself as popular in high school.  I always felt I was shy, quiet and pretty much in my own world.  Today, I found out I was a "social butterfly."
     Funny, I see myself as the caterpillar, still waiting its chance to shine.

thumbs out....

I used to pick up hitch hikers

     It was always an interesting experience.
     One time I picked up a guy on 251 whose motorcycle had broken down.  I drove him to Rockford, or maybe New Milford, and let him out at a gas station.  He seemed pretty nice.
Jackie and I once picked up an NIU student who was wearing a garbage bag.  It was raining, and he must not have had a raincoat, so he took a black garbage bag, put arm holes in it, and put it on.  I don't remember how far we took him, but I do remember Jackie thought I was nuts.
      I was driving on 251 near New Milford and saw a young woman with a gas can.  I stopped, and as she got in I asked her how far her car was.  It was then I noticed she had a suitcase, not a gas can.  I ended up taking her to 251 and Standard Oil Road, where I let her out.  She seemed really nice too.
     The strangest experience I had was driving back from Rockford, at night, and I saw a young guy along the shoulder, thumb out.  He had a big back pack, and looked like he had been on the road for a while.
     There was no IL 39 back then, and the road was pretty busy.  Except that night.
     The kid got in, was very talkative and appreciative, but after about five minutes, he climbed into the back seat of my car!  I was doing 60 on a two lane road and this guy is climbing over the seat so he could lay down in the back!
     It scared the living hell out of me.  I just could imagine him pulling out a knife and ramming it through the seat.  Or using a rope to strangle me.  Maybe he had a gun and was going to rob me.
     I drove as fast as I could, hoping to get a ticket.  No cops.  I eventually got to Rochelle and pulled into a gas station at Ill. 38 and 251.  I stopped and told him he had to get out.  I figured there were enough people around that he wouldn't do anything.
     He complained that he still had a ways to go, but he got out, and thanked me again for the ride.
     I still have thoughts about picking up people.  I always wonder what tales they have to tell.  Maybe they are foreign and are hitching their way across the country.  Possibly they are running from a life that is strangling them.  Maybe they are writers, working on a great American novel.  A young couple in love running away from forbidding parents?
     If I was a braver person, I would give them a ride, and listen to their tales.
     But the world is not longer that safe place of long ago.  And I don't want some stranger to be the last person I see on Earth!

oldies but goodies

I used to hang out with a weird crowd

     I was listening to an oldies station when Sam and Dave came on, singing "You Didn't Have to Love Me Like You Did."
     OK young people, Sam and Dave were part of the soul movement in music.  I was living off campus while going to NIU and Eli and Jim, other guys in the house, were in to soul music.  I learned about Otis Redding, Carla Thomas, and others whose names have faded from my porous mind.
     The student union had a downstairs area called "The Tune Room."  In one corner were the people who liked soul.  In the other corner were people like me....young guys with long hair, dirty jeans and a belief in a world without violence.
     In the pre-Jackie years, I would move from one group to the other, sometimes learning how to soul clap and other times joining long , slow moving dance lines that often didn't even have music.
Sometimes non group members would wander in, and usually they were accepted and all was cool.
     One night I was on my way out when some guys came in.  They were a little loud, and pushy, and as I reached the exit door, a huge fight broke out behind me.  An NIU officer was standing right outside the door and I told him and he went in.
    It was winter.  It was cold.  I remember that.
    The next day I was off to visit a girl on west campus.  I lived off campus on the east.  It was cold.  It was winter.
     So I stuck my thumb out to hitch a ride.  That was pretty common back then.  The world was a safer place.
    A car stopped, I got in the back seat, closed the door, thanked them, then said to myself, "Oh shit."
    The two guys in the front seat were part of the group that started the fight.
     And they recognized me.
     "You look familiar," the big burly one with muscles that made Governor Arnold look wimpy, snarled.
    "I do?" I gulped.
     "Yeah," the other one said, "You were in the union last night.  We saw you."
     "Yes, I was there.  I don't remember seeing you, but I left kind of early."
     Long pause.  I pictured myself being beaten, stripped and tossed into the freezing snow in the country someplace.  Or tied to a tree and covered with peanut butter to attract wild dogs.
     "Were you there when the fight started?" big and burly asked, his forehead throbbing from the gigantic muscles in his head.
     "Fight?  No, I didn't see any fight.  I left kind of early."
      When we got to west campus, they did not stop.  They did turn north on Glidden, heading into Siberia.
     "Hey, I can get out here...that would be great.  I really appreciate it."
     Surprisingly, the car stopped.
     I calmly got out, thanked them again, and crossed the road.
     Although I still spent too many hours in "The Tune Room," I never saw them again.
     And to be safe, I never hitched a ride on campus again either.

to do is to be....to be is to do....do be do be do

I actually got some things done!

     Granted, I didn't do anything major this week, but I did accomplish some minor tasks.
     First, I ate a lot of Illinois peaches!  Dan and Linda were at a family gathering near Marion and scored some southern Illinois peaches at a local Kroger.  I paid $11.50 for 5 of them at the Sycamore farmers' market about three weeks ago.  Dan delivered a bag of about 15 peaches on Monday.
They are sweet.  And juicy.  You practically need a towel when you eat them.  I have had six in three days and each one is better than the previous peach. The cost?  $5 for the bag.  $5!!  Thank you Dan and Linda for giving me a little paradise this week.
     Another accomplishment:  I weeded the gardens.  It took me all day Monday, but I got them done.  Raked the mulch, pulled weeds, dead headed, fertilized, pulled dead leaves off.....I think that is why my arm is sore and my hips hurt.
     A major accomplishment:  I cleaned the garage!  Sorted stuff, found stuff I was looking for, found stuff I had no idea I had.  It brings to mind the age old question:  at what point am I going to be able to part with things I no longer need or use?  Like the 30 decks of antique playing cards from the cabin at Dewey Lake.  (I say antique, Jackie says old. Perspective.)
     Digression.  Last week some lady brought in a collection of baseball memorabilia to an Antiques Roadshow event.  Her grandmother ran a boarding house in the 1880s and  Boston professional baseball team members stayed at that house.  She had pictures of the players, letters, baseball cards and other stuff.   Her collection was appraised at over $1 million.  They did not release her name for security reasons.  Somehow, I don't think my playing cards will bring that much.
    I did my Rotary newsletter.  I hadn't done it since June 27.  Oh well.....By the way, I do have calendars for sale....$20 with a chance to win cash every day in 2015!  You can win more than once!  Let me know if you want a calendar....I will get you one.
     Cleaned the light fixture in the dining room.  That is a real bear to take down and clean, but it is also a dust collector.  Looks tacky when it is dirty, so I cleaned it.  Putting it back together was a challenge.
     And the biggest small task:  Watched the Cubs win two in a row over Milwaukee, the league leading Milwaukee.  Go figure.
    I also went to O'Hare to pick up our Rotary exchange student.  Fine looking young boy from Brazil named Artur.
     I still have two days to go.... world, watch out!!

holy crap....it's been five weeks

I still physically hurt

     Five weeks ago I crashed my bike.
     I am getting a little concerned.
     My arm still hurts.  I can use it, but it hurts in the muscle part.
     My hip still hurts.  Not all the time, but when I make a quick move, like when doing a cha cha or tango.
     Tonight my knees hurt.  I think that is just old age.
     So, I am tired.  I hurt.  And I have to get up early.
     I keep debating, should I go to a doctor?  It's been five weeks, shouldn't I be not sore by this time?
     Geez....maybe sleep will help.
     That's it.

I just get a little curious

Life is full of unexplained mysteries, to me

Why can't I eat just one potato chip?
Why don't Walmart ice cream sandwiches melt?
Why did Robin Williams make me laugh so much?
Why can't the Cubs take a pitch?
Why do people throw their McDonald's bags on the road?
Why can't I open a bandage without having to literally rip apart the wrapping?
What time am I supposed to be at the museum to do a folk toy on Saturday?
Why do I procrastinate so much on important stuff, yet get right to the minor crap that really doesn't mean much?
Why are squirrels always running out in front of cars?
Why does my camera batter die when I want to use it?
Why does the hair in my nose and ears grow faster than the hair on my head?
If you have answers to any of these questions, please, let me know.
I mean business.  I am as serious as a stroke.   Oops....channeling Bertha.  Boy, I gotta get over that!
Peace to all.  And RIP Mork.  I understood your madness.

2 + 2 + 22

I may not be the best at math

     It runs in the family.  My mother could not balance a checkbook.  All her life she was just getting by, but a relative left her some money and suddenly, she had a check book balance.
     Mom had a strangely effective way to keep a checkbook.  If a check was for $23.89, she would round it up to $25.  If it was $22.98, she would round it down to $20.  So she dealt with 0 and 5 when computing sums.
     And she never balanced a checkbook.  She kept a healthy balance in her checkbook, but you wouldn't know for looking at the checkbook.
     Jackie tried, Michael tried, Carl tried....nobody could balance the checkbook.  But when statements came, she was always pretty close to what the bank said, which was good enough for her.
     And when she got forgetful and couldn't remember checks and amounts.....we'd just close the account and move to another bank.
     Jackie spends hours balancing our checkbook.  Now she has a front of the book, and a back of the book, and money from the back is sometimes used to pay things in the front.  It is beyond me.  It does become an issue when the two sides are several hundred dollars apart.
     Math has never been a strong subject for me.
     I took a common core sample test on line.   I did 5/5 for third grade; 5/5 for fifth grade and 2 of 5 for eighth grade.  That is 40 percent.  I don't think that is good.
     The problem was in language and signs.  I have not done algebra for .....  let's see carry the four, borrow from the eight, factor in a shrinkage rate .... about 48 years.  So when I took the eighth grade sample quiz, three of the questions had a ^ symbol.  As in 6^8=2y-14.  Or as I said, what the hell is the ^ anyway?
     Now that is not a knock on the tests.  If I had been in an eighth grade classroom when that material or concept was taught, I probably would have picked up on it.  (Unless I was looking the the cute girl next to me, the doodles the guy next to me was making, thinking of lunch, or napping.)
     Which seems to me to be a problem when sample tests and assignments are posted on line for all the world to see.  We are not the kids in the classroom.  We are not engaged in the learning activity.  We don't know what the expected outcome was for that lesson. We haven't heard what the child hears.
     At least that is my rationale.  And I am sticking to it, 110 percent.

what trips your fancy?

I sometimes get confused, and curious

      I just want to update you on some interesting information.
      OK, it's really boring, but I am having an off week.
     This blog has 9,168 viewings so far.  Holy cow!  That means pages have been read 9,168 times.  Even with the two friends and one family member who I know read it regularly, that is more than I expected!
     My blog about the blue shirt was pretty popular....over 60 views.  I know there are some women, and maybe men, out there who will be keeping an eye out for my sexy European blue linen shirt.  Someday, your dreams will come true.
     I also check the audience of readers.  The vast majority come from the US, and I can understand the Switzerland numbers.....but 38 views in the Ukraine and 76 views from Russia are a little confusing.
     So this next sentence is dedicated to my Russian/Ukrainian readers:  Please, stop the fighting and get along because you are both great cultures.
    Germany actually had the second most number of views.  I only know two people from there, Yvonne's parents, and I don't think they would read it.  But in case, here is a special message to them:  We always enjoy visiting with you and eating plum cake.  Hint, we will be at Julia's in October.
     There were other countries represented, but I guess they were maybe just trolling the web and moved on quickly.
     And most important for me, I have done 222 entries.  That is one a day.  My goal when I started was to do one a day and break my cycle of not finishing things.
     Unfortunately, I still have that problem.
     Maybe by the end of the year I will finish the two books I have started, finish the basement ceiling, finish cleaning the garage......uh, do you see a trend.
     I thought doing this would help me but I
   
   

show me the way to go home, I'm tired and I want ....

I have a fear of getting lost

     Someday I will be going to go into town for the Tribune and police will find me three days later in Denver, still looking for a paper.
     No, I am not senile yet.  (By the way, when my pops started losing his memory, we called it senility.  Alzheimer's had not been discovered yet.) I am directionally challenged.
      I just don't know that I am.
      One day when I was teaching fifth grade, I was asked  by another teacher to watch  a student because the kid  had some work to do.  It was a long time ago, because Beth was the one keeping Nicole after.  I said she and her brother Andrew could work in my room until someone came to pick them up at 4 or 4:30, whatever.
       We were sitting at the back table.  Nicole was doing some work.  Andrew was drawing a picture.  Nicole must have asked about the Mississippi River and where it was on the map.
       Andrew, who was in second grade, looked up and said, "I saw the Mississippi River once.  We were going to Florida and we crossed it."
       Seeing the teachable moment, I asked Nicole to show him the river on the map and to show him about where we lived.
       "See Andrew?  We are here, Florida is there, and here is the Mississippi River.  Do you think you cross the Mississippi to get to Florida?"
       He said yes.
       I pointed out all the places again, and found the Ohio River.  I said, "Look, Andrew.  Here is how you get to Florida from here.  This is the Ohio River.  It is pretty big.  You probably crossed that river."
      He said again he crossed the Mississippi.
      I finally said, "Andrew. you don't cross the Mississippi River when you drive to Florida."
      Without a pause he said, "You do if your grandma turns the wrong way."
      He had a point.
      When I left the zoo today (Gawd, what a mess a gas leak can cause.  Film at 11!) I had two stops.  The Crate and Barrel outlet on 59 south of 88 and Lou Malnati's Pizza on Randall Road.  No problem.
      Ill 59 is a busy road.  The four lanes are usually packed with cars and trucks.  Try it when there are only two lanes due to road construction.
     I did find Crate and Barrel.  Unfortunately, they did not have what I wanted.  (But I still spent $25.  Place mats and napkins and beer glasses are all on sale!)
     That's when the fun started.
     I did not want to take 59 north, so I figured just take an east west road until I hit Randall Road.
     I found one, and drove west.  Then north.  Then south.  Then west.
     I swear to god, I passed the Eiffel Tower.  I crossed the Fox River, maybe twice.
     I usually get home around 4 from the zoo.  At around 5:15, I was still headed west when lo and behold!  Randall Road!!
     From there is was a short drive to Malnati's for 9 frozen pies, then on home.  I got home about 6:30.
     GPS?  Who needs it.  Crumpled state road map?  Totally unnecessary.
     Like a pigeon, I always find home.   Sometimes it just takes a while.

going home, again

I should have told someone

     I miss those carefree, teen and preteen years, where I had no responsibilities or cares.
     Well, I did have responsibilities.  I had a paper route.  It was a darn good route, inside a factory on Irving Park.  I sold the Chicago Daily News and the Chicago American.
      I learned some business tricks while I had the route.  I always said thank you.  I always was helpful and polite.  I always passed out Christmas cards.
      The papers then were 7 cents.  I paid 5 cents, so I made 2 cents on every paper.  I sold about 60 to 70 papers a day.  My biggest profit was tips.  A lot of people would just give me a dime and tell me to keep the change.  So I effectively was making 5 cents a paper.
      At some point, the two papers hiked their prices to 10 cents.  It cost me a fortune because there were no more tips.  I still made 2 cents on a sale, but my bottom line hurt.
      I would wander through the building, dropping off papers at desks.  I also had stacks of papers at the two main entrances, with cigar boxes for money.  Everyone was honest.  I don't think I could do that today.
      I knew almost everybody who worked in the place.  Ann, Aunt Betty, (really, she was my aunt), Adelle, and a bunch of other people who were really nice to me. One guy worked on the loading dock.  I don't remember his name.  I do remember he was tall, heavyset, greased back hair, and always nice to me.
       Until one day.
       Corvairs had just come out and he bought a convertible.  He knew I liked cars, 'cause I was a 13 year old boy.  What 13 year old boy doesn't like cars?
       He asked me if I wanted to take a ride in his car.
       I said yes, because I had known him, and trusted him, for a couple of years.
       The car was baby blue.  We had the top down and cruised the Outer Drive, wind blowing through our hair.
        He pulled into the recreational parking area near Irving Park and pulled into a space.  We talked about the car for a few minutes, then he asked me the question I will always remember.
        "Are you circumcised?"  he asked me.
        I had no idea what he was talking about.  So I said, "I don't know."
        He then told me he would be happy to check, all I had to do was unzip my pants.
        I realized then what part of the body circumcised had to deal with.  I suddenly became a little wary.  I told him no.  I also told him to take me back to the factory.
        Now common sense would have said, "Get the hell out of the car and run."
        But he was a nice guy.  When he made no attempt to start the car, I  told him he had until the count of three or I would get out and start screaming.
        He started the car, took me back to the factory, and let me out.
       I never told anyone about the incident.  No one.  I still delivered a paper to the guy, but we never talked.
      It's funny, in a way.  When ever I go to a car show and see a Corvair, I wonder about the guy.  And I hope his next victim, if there was one, spoke up.
       

so pissed I can hardly stand it

Pardon me while I rant and vent my anger

     For the last three months I have been driving to Rock Falls once or twice a week to practice Greater Tuna.
     This is a two man show, each person plays 10 characters.  There are a lot of lines to learn.
     Why was I doing this?  Because last winter I got a call from Beth at White Pines Dinner Theater.  They are doing the show in September.  One character bailed.  They wanted me to fill in..
     There is pay involved.  $200 a show.  Six shows.
      I said yes.  I did not sign a contract, but I was in.
      Sure, it meant moving my trip to Julia's from early September to late September.  Sure it meant spending hours learning lines.  Sure it meant working with a total stranger when I had always done Tuna shows with the other Terry.
     So when Renee messaged me today about not being able to buy tickets, I was puzzled.  Greater Tuna  was on the calender last week, granted, only for five shows instead of six, but hey.  So I called White Pines.
      The show has been cancelled.  Cancelled.   CANCELLED!!
      How do I find out?  By calling the f'en place and asking why it wasn't on the calender.
     Cancelled.
      My partner Brent had called me three times today.....I called him twice.  Both times we played phone tag.
     On the third call, he said she pulled the plug this morning because only 75 seats had been sold for the show's run.  So the plug was pulled.
     How mad am I?
     I just went out and trimmed my grass.  I have walked around the house for 20 minutes.  I am hoarse from yelling.
     How mad am I?
      There is a bottle of red in the  basement that will be consumed tonight.  In its entirety.
     How mad am I?
      At some point I am going to set fire to the script.
      To sum it up.  I know a play that won't be performed.  I have made at least 20 trips to Rock Falls to practice.  I have told countless people about it.  I have planned my vacation around it.  I have given up nights to practice lines, memorize lines, work on lines.  Jackie has spent hours going over lines with me.
     Truly, I am shaking with rage.  Anger.  Disappointment.
     I know I will never set foot in the White Pines Dinner Theater again, ever.
     And not only am I pissed, Thurston, Bertha, Pearl, Elmer, Yippy, Leonard, Hank, R.R., and the Rev. Spikes are pretty damn mad too.
     Thank you for allowing me to vent.  It has been one crappy week.
   



     
     

and now the days have passed

I have a love/hate relationship with August

     I think that stems back to my childhood.  Usually in August we went to Dewey Lake in Michigan.  We spent a couple of weeks at my aunt and uncle's cottage, swimming in the lake and having fun.
I think we went then because my dad was tired of us and wanted a break.  He would stay in Chicago and come up to the lake on weekends, leaving my poor mother to deal with my brothers, cousins, friends and me.
     I have such great memories of those times, and for that I really love August.
     But I hate it, because when I was a kid, it meant school was looming.
     In Chicago, we started after Labor Day....which makes more sense than starting Aug. 14.  It is hot in August.  Not all schools are air conditioned.  It is humid.  Starting in mid August makes no sense.  I say bully for Wisconsin for passing a law that mandates schools start after Labor Day.  Of course, Wisconsin has a lot of tourists and maybe they wanted all those high school kids working minimum wage jobs for another couple of weeks while folks from Illinois spent money.
     When I got to be an adult, I loved August because the kids and wifey were going back to school.  Then I became a teacher and hated it because work was just days ahead.
     Love the heat.  Hate the heat.  Love the humidity.  Hate the humidity.
     Love that it has 31 days. Hate that the days are getting shorter.
     It always seems August has those hot, still days, where the wind doesn't blow and the air just closes in around you.  Those days I hate, but I also love sitting on a shaded porch, sipping ice tea, and doing crossword puzzles on those hot days.
     Hate for people to have to work outside in the heat.  Love that I don't have to.
     So there I am, torn between loving the month and hating it.
     Sort of like following the Cubs.  Who, if you didn't notice, are seldom playing for anything meaningful in August.  Or September.  Or July.  Or this century.
     But who knows, maybe next year they will be in the thick of it and it will give me another reason to love August.
     Or hate it.

deliver de letter, de sooner de better

I was a mailman

     After my sophomore year at NIU, I got a job with the US Postal Service as a full time substitute clerk carrier.
     I took the exam, passed, and was assigned to the Ravenswood Post Office. A substitute clerk carrier at the time meant I could be doing anything once I got to work at 6 a.m.
     Sometimes I drove a postal truck.  Not a big one, but a smaller one that dropped off bags of mail at green boxes.  The carriers would stop at the box and get the mail for that area.  Sometimes the streets were pretty narrow and in those days, the city had not figured out how to use one way streets.
     However, driving a postal truck makes you feel invincible.  I would barrel down the streets, giving no quarter and yielding to no vehicle.
     The job paid quite well.  I don't remember how much, but I was rolling in dough every payday.
     Usually I was a carrier.  If a regular called in sick, I would get that route.  As the new guy, lots of veterans would help me out with sorting and organizing for the day.  The regulars knew their customers.  They would leave notes on their case:  Nice lady; mailbox sticks; friendly dogs; and the most important note:  bad dog.
     It's funny, in a way.  I remember delivering mail where my friends John and Kathy now live.  I thought the houses on Virginia were beautiful and the neighborhood a great place to live.  I still feel that way whenever we go there for a visit.
     A carrier was out, and I was given his route.  I sorted the mail, rubber banded it, bagged it and headed out.  I think I was a lot later than he would have been, but I was still on the route by 9 a.m.
     I don't remember the exact street.  It ran north and south.  There was a east west cross street at the corner and there was a high school there.  Might have been Senn, maybe not.
     Anyway, it was a hot day.  I was in the middle of the block and doing a fine job.
     As a mailman, I always had a left hand full of mail.  I used the right hand to open the box, put that address's mail in the box, close it and move on.  My three wheeled cart, with water bottle, dog repellent and who knows what else, was on the sidewalk.
      I opened the gate to the yard.  Looking around, I did not see a dog.  I climbed the steps.  Looking around, I did not see a dog.  I opened the porch door and walked to the mailbox.  I noticed the door to the house was wide open. Looking around, I did not see a dog.
      But I heard one.   That clip, clip, clip of a dog's paws on a wooden floor.
      I looked down and there was a German Shepherd watching me.
      I put the mail in the box and backed away, keeping an eye on the dog, showing no fear.
      That's when it jumped.
      It literally flew at me.   I had never seen a flying dog before!  It' mouth was open, wide and its teeth were pretty darn big.
      I jammed my left hand full of mail in its mouth and continued backing toward the door.  All the while this dog had my handful of mail  in its mouth, shaking that and my hand back and forth.  I felt the screen door knob with my right hand, opened it, gave a shove with my left hand and closed the door.
      Mail for four houses was scattered all over the porch, some of it with huge bite marks.
       We didn't have cell phones back then.  So I walked to the high school, and called my supervisor.  He was pretty pissed because everyone knew that was a bad dog, but the case was not flagged.
       When I went back to get my cart, there was a young kid in front of the house, holding a fistful of drooled and chewed mail.
     He apologized, said he forgot to close the front door.
     I told him no problem, and by the way, tell your parents they no longer have home delivery, because my supervisor said this was not the first incident.
     I can't imagine what the people on the rest of the block thought when they got mail that looked like it had been chewed by a huge German Shepherd.
     But I wasn't bit, and I learned a valuable lesson about being a mailman:  don't.
     I ended up going back to NIU.

   
   

a shirt makes the difference, not

I had a man crush in Switzerland

     It didn't start out as that.  It started out as dinner in a fondue place near where Julia works.
     It's a weird restaurant....all locals.  Except for when Julia brings her US friends and relatives.
On the wall there is a series of pictures of cows and people in erotic poses.  Seriously.  Cows and cows.  People and people.  Cows and people.  A very strange picture, funny and entertaining, but strange.
     But I digress.
     Our friend Sheri was sitting next to me, across from Jackie, Dileck (and yes, I don't know how to spell her name, but it sounds like that) and Julia.
     As we sat and drank some wine, I noticed a good looking man sitting at the table behind Julia, Jackie and Dilleck. (In case it is spelled that way.)  I noticed he was my age, maybe a little older.  Gray speckled through his hair.
      His arm was thrown about the chair next to him and he talked with a robust voice, and laughed with a great laugh.  His sunglasses were perched atop his head and his blue shirt was open about three buttons, exposing a hairy chest.
     He seemed like a man in command of the world.
     I turned to Sheri (spelled correctly) and asked if she noticed him.  She had.  I asked her what she thought made him so good looking.  She couldn't describe a reason.  So one by one, Jackie, Julia and Delic (third time's the charm)  checked him out.  Everyone thought he was good looking.  Sexy.  Charming.  No one could explain why.  What gave this man that power????
     I took a picture of Julia and Jackie.  Actually, I aimed the camera at them but took a picture of the guy.  I thought that was very sneaky.
     We discussed. at great length, what made him sexy and me a schmooo.  OK, he didn't have a small watermelon for a belly,  but he was sitting down.  It couldn't have been the glasses, because I have glasses.  Granted, I wear mine on my nose and he wore his in his hair.  OK, his hair was a little fuller, fluffier, and more abundant than mine, but it was speckled with gray.
     We decided it was the shirt; a blue linen shirt.
     The next day Sheri and I went to a Starbucks for coffee.
     Here's the problem.  Jackie can't navigate the way to town.  Julia has a two seater.  So Julia can either make three trips with one person, or one trip with one person and the other two take the funi and walk.  So Sheri and I took the funi and walked.
      We left Starbucks to go to Charlie's, a way cool restaurant and bar located right on the lake, with a lakeside seating arrangement for dining and drinks.
       As we crossed the busy street, we passed a men's shop and I happened to glance in the window.
       There was the blue shirt.   And it was on sale!!
        I debated.  Sheri said go for it.  So I bought a blue linen shirt.
        When we got to Charlie's, I made quick run to the bathroom and donned my new shirt.
       When Jackie and Julia came, there I was, arm slung carelessly over a chair, blue linen shirt open three buttons, my glasses perched on my forehead.
        Their reaction?  One of them laughed, the other just shook her head.
        But that's OK, because I noticed a couple of young girls checking me out, and I know they were thinking what a cool dude the guy in the blue shirt was.  I could tell they were impressed because of all the giggles they had when they looked my way.
       At least, that is what I keep telling myself.
     I have gone all summer without wearing the blue shirt.  And you know what world?  It's time.  Ladies, beware.


       

   

life sometimes is not a fun place

I don't know how to say this.

   My cousin Sally died today.  She did not leave us, she died.  We didn't lose her, she didn't pass, she died.
     I wrote about Sally before.  She and Warren live in Anchorage and were down here in June for a visit.  She had lung cancer, which was treated with radiation and chemo.  We had a great visit and we made plans to see each other again.  But the cancer moved to her brain.  The end came quickly, her suffering was limited.  She died at home, surrounded by her husband, daughter, son in law and I imagine her dog....who was a big part of her life.
     Sally and I grew up in Chicago, just a couple of blocks from each other.  I was about 10 when her mother died of cancer.  Aunt Jean was a Christian Scientist and did not go see a doctor until very late.  Her dad remarried a couple of years later.  Sally ended up going to a boarding school, I think it was the Chicago Latin School in Dundee.  I remember writing her letters when she was at school.  Since we both liked music, I would cut circles out and write letters in a way that you had to keep rotating the letter to read it.  Just like a record.
     My parents and I went out there to visit her and went to a nearby restaurant.  Several years ago when she was here we went back there and relived those years.
     She went to Lake View High School, the same as me.  She was three years ahead of me.  At some point....maybe her junior year, or senior year, she was at home for lunch.  She went upstairs and her dad, Jim, was at the bottom of the stairs.  He wasn't feeling well and stayed home that day.  He yelled to Sally and asked what she wanted for lunch.  She placed her order, but when she came down the stairs, her dad was on the floor, killed by a massive heart attack.
     So by the end of high school, she had lost both parents.
     She was strong, though.  Strong enough to handle me and my brothers and her brother.  She fed me dog biscuits, let me play with her dolls, begged to read my comic books, and was a friend as well as a cousin.  On summer days we would ride up to the Coca Cola bottling plant on Ravenswood and Montrose and buy Cokes from a vending machine for a nickel.
     She was the one who asked me to go the the Beatles at Comiskey Park.  But I didn't go.  She didn't either, and years later found the unused tickets, put them on E-Bay and sold them for several hundred dollars.
     She worked at the Tribune, covering the Deep Tunnel project.  She married a guy named Tim and they went to Alaska one summer for a vacation, and never came back except to visit.
     When that  marriage broke up, Sally called from O'Hare at 11  one night and came to our house while she sorted out her life.
      The two times we went to Alaska, she was a great hostess and tour guide.  She knew a lot of people.  We stayed at a friend of hers near Willow  on a trip to Fairbanks.  There were a lot of people eating burgers and drinking beer.  I sat by one guy and asked him what he did in Alaska.  With a serious face, and I am sure complete truth, he said, "That's classified information." As far as I remembered, that was all he said before quietly slipping out the door.
      She eventually remarried, finding a terrific partner in Warren.  She loved her life in Alaska.  She loved the work she was doing, editing the "bar rag" (a lawyer's monthly paper) , doing PR for the state, putting out real estate guides, working for newspapers.....making beaded jewelry.
     Oh, she could be maddeningly frustrating.  In her personal life, deadlines were suggestions.  She may be here Tuesday, or it could be Thursday.  Christmas cards came in the middle of January.  She had her quirks.
      I didn't see her as much as I wanted.   Alaska is a pretty far drive.  Distance parted us.
      But this summer we got to reconnect.  And it was wonderful.  I am normally a pessimistic person, but I truly believed I would see her again in a year.
     I have some pictures.  I have the memories.
     I just wish I had one more visit with her.
   

   
     
   

what did I miss?

I sometimes am oblivious

     You all know I hate storms.  They spook me.  Lightning, thunder, hail......all make me very nervous.
     I keep a close watch on the sky (or this heart of mine, according to Johnny Cash) whenever the sky turns gray.
     So tell me.....when I went to town at 6:15, stopped at Sullivan's, stopped at Jimmy Johns, stopped at Red Box....how the hell did I miss the storms?
     Seriously!  Until I read FB posts about funnel clouds, tornado sirens, hail,, I had no idea it did anything but rain.
     No, I was not drinking.  I just did not notice the sky, or the weather.....which is very odd for me.
     Our weather radio did not go off.  We can't hear any sirens from town at our house.
     I was completely shocked when I saw pictures of funnels over the high school and at 39 and 64.  I have a hard time believing there were tornadoes....maybe they were fake tornadoes or semi tornadoes.
     How could I miss them?
     I was watching a movie.  Her.  A Red Box special tonight, cause I had a code.
     It was a weird movie.  I don't think I ever really got into it, because I was dwelling on the weirdness of it.
     A guy falling in love with the voice from his computer's operating system?  Quite a stretch.  He lives in a really nice apartment in LA and works for a letter writing company?  They must pay damn well.  When it first came out, I thought I would really like it.  I liked it, but not really liked it...if you get my meaning.
     Anyway, while I was watching Her, the storms were raging and I was completely oblivious.
     Go figure.
     And a note of explanation.  Emily had a long week with dogs, and Miss Gwen had to go.  I had really gotten fond of Gwen, and Emily and John loved her.  But Gwen could not stay in a house with other dogs.
      But the biggest reason is because my cousin Sally is losing her battle with cancer.  She lives in Alaska, and we had a great visit just about a month ago.  It has been years since we saw each other.  Jackie and I had always planned to go up to visit, but with Julia in Switzerland, our money and trips have been that direction.
     I always talk about regrets in life.  Not being closer contact with what little family I have left is one of them.
     Time is short.  Reconnect when you have the chance.  You won't regret that.