they say it's your birthday.......

Julia was born on this day....Nov. 22

     I had a 61 Chevy Impala.  It used to be owned by a Chicago cop, and he installed a secret kill switch under the dash.  Turn the switch off, the car won't start.
     So there we are.  Nov. 21, a Saturday night.  Jackie and I were staying at my parents' house on the north side because that was closest to the hospital.  John came over and we fixed him up with Janet, a nursing student at the U of I.
     We were playing cards at the dining room table.  Jackie had a bad back ache.  At about 11 she went upstairs to the bathroom, and minutes later yelled down, "My water broke."
     So we jumped into action.
     John ran to get the car, which was parked on the next block.  Jackie was having contractions.  We are in the house when John comes running back up yelling, "The car won't start."
    Damn kill switch.
     I grab the keys and race to the next block, get the car and drive back and pick up the whole group.
     We drive to the hospital and John lets Jackie and me off in the ER and takes Janet back to her dorm.
     And the waiting starts.
     Now Jackie had the same doctor who delivered her....Dr. Friedman.  I don't know how old he was, but he was, how shall I say it, not young.  (And the doctor bill for his services from first visit to delivery was $150....paid in small amounts over the 9 months.)
     She sleeps, I sit in the waiting room.  At some point John had come back and gone home.  During the morning, Billy G. had stopped by to wish us well.  (Billy lived across the alley from John and he was going to be a Catholic priest until the 68 Democratic National Convention, when he snuck on to McGovern's floor in a Chicago hotel, met a nice young Jewish girl, fell in love and got married.)
     Come to think of it, I only saw Billy twice after we got married.  Once when Jackie was having Julia, and again when she was pregnant with Emily.  Good thing he didn't come around more often!
     Dr. Freidman came out and told me it was going slow and he wished she would hurry up because he had Bears' tickets and it was a noon kickoff.
     Sometime after 12, she went into labor and they wheeled her into delivery.  I was not allowed.  I don't believe I even had the option.
     What seemed forever passed until he came rushing out.  "It's a girl.  Every body's fine.  I can still make the second half." And he was gone.
     Just seconds later a nurse came out carrying this bundle.
     Julia had been sideways.  Luckily another doctor was also delivering a baby and when our doctor ran into trouble, the other guy stepped in.  He had to use a forceps to reposition her in the birth canal.
     And she had had a bm during the delivery process.
     So the nurse has this little bundle and says to me, "Would you like to see your beautiful daughter?"
     I looked at our baby.  She was covered with brown shit, blood, mucus and had these huge red marks from the forceps all over her head.
     I nearly threw up.
     "She'll look a lot better once we clean her up," the nurse said.
      I hope so galloped through my brain!
     And she did.  She was a beautiful girl.  The red marks faded in a few days, everyone was healthy, and the Bears beat the Bills 31-13.  Bobby Douglas was the Bears QB back then and was a terrible passer.  That day he had 8 completions in 20 attempts, and four of the catches were TDs. (I looked that up!)
     Dr. Freidman made it for the second half.
     Now Jackie may dispute some of this....but she can do her own blog.  This is my story, and I'm sticking to it.
      Happy birthday!

the answer, my friend is blowin' in the wind

If you ask a question, I will give an answer

     The problem is, it's not always the right answer.
     I was once stopped by a guy in front of the Walgreen's on Sycamore.  He asked me if I knew a fish shop on Peace Road.  I told him yes, it's just the other side of Farm n Fleet.  He said he had the address, but was confused because I wasn't pointing to Peace Road.  I said they moved recently.
I think I sent him to Culver's.  He was looking for the fish place on Peace Road across from Jewel.
     At BZ I have sent people the wrong way to the smoking areas, the wrong way to the bears, the wrong way to the restaurant.
     And friends, it isn't always me they are asking a question!  It could be a question I heard randomly walking down the street and I feel compelled to answer....incorrectly!!
     I don't do it on purpose.  I genuinely believe I know the answer.  Then I open my mouth.
I am the opposite of a know it all.....I am a don't know it all.  I guess I don't know what I don't know, but now I know that.
     There is something humbling in saying, "I don't know."  I don't know (get the irony?) if anyone wants to come across as not being helpful, but I know I sure don't.   So I answer.
     Can you tell me how to get to .....
     Yes.  Go down three blocks, turn right.
     And after they leave, I know it isn't correct but it is too late to stop them.
     I have given wrong lines to an actor in a play in an attempt to help them, but it really screws everybody up because they give the wrong lines that I didn't know in the first place!
     Ask me what the forecast is....I'll tell you.
     Ask me what the temp is, I'll tell you.
     But it won't be right.
     I am not lying, really.  I am trying to be helpful.
     One time when I was subbing I was talking about how important math was and that sometimes you have to do it in your head.  A child asked me if I could do 475 x 89 in my head and I game him an answer of 32, 645.  They were pretty impressed until some smarty pants in the back got out their calculator and said I was way off!
     OK, that time I lied.
     But generally if you are asking me for directions or other information, I will give an answer that I truly believe is correct, accurate and genuine.
     But it's very often wrong.
     So beware.

Midnight special, shine your ever loving light on me

I started hanging Christmas lights today

     Yes, it was cold.  Very cold.  Yes, I know I could have done this when it was warmer, but for some unknown reason, I decided to wait until just before Thanksgiving.
     Yes, I understand it got abnormally cold early this year, but the weather gods did not check with me on when I was hanging lights.
     I got two strands up.
     I don't know if they work, but they are up.
     I promised Jackie I would finish Saturday.  Hopefully the rain will not come till afternoon and I will find some young kid eager to make a few bucks to come in the morning and move my dirt. Otherwise, I will wait until after Thanksgiving, for the dirt.  Lights are going up Saturday, rain, shine or wind chills of -60.
     I don't have a lot to hang, but enough to not want to do it when it is 9 degrees outside.
     And yes, I should have moved the dirt, washed the windows, waxed the cars, brought in the hose reels and mowed the yard one last time, but normally I would have until Thanksgiving to do that.
     Normally.
     But my shoulder hurt too much to do most of that.  It still hurts, but not as badly.
     I came out of my bike accident better than Bono.  He crashed his bike in Central Park and had an arm so badly broken they put plates and screws in it.  I think he had a broken bone in his face too,  or U 2.
     I still have to put window covers on the basement windows.  Last year they filled with snow and I actually got into them and shoveled them out.  I had a hard time getting out.  I thought I would stay out there forever.  Coyote chow.  My yelling would not have brought any help because I am always yelling about something.
     Thus, (I love that word!)  I will be braving the elements to put up lights, and maybe move dirt.
      The dirt is probably frozen, so it will not be easy to move.  I will need a jack hammer and some explosives, but I will get it moved.
       And I think I will go to town Saturday afternoon and relax with a cup at Cypress House.  After the lights are up.  The dirt will just have to wait for Mother Nature to give one more window of opportunity for me to miss.

School days, school days, good old golden rule days,

My 50th high school reunion is next year

     I want to go, but I don't want to go.  Those people will be pretty old.  Many of them will have gray hair, or thinning hair, or no hair.  Pot bellies.  All they will talk about is their surgeries and aches and pains.
     Do I really want to pay a lot of money to endure that?
     I actually got an e mail from the reunion committee, asking me for my e mail so they could maintain contact.  I thought I would e mail them back and tell them they had the wrong e mail for me.  I don't know if it was funny.
     There are a lot of people I want to see from high school.  Connie, the Greek, who kept me in trouble in several classes.  Rick and Ken, guys I used to play baseball and football with in the sandlots of the north side.  Suzanne, my adopted sister.  She cooked my supper a couple of times when I had to work nights at the National Tea store.  She was extremely bright, which was why we never dated.  Chris, who I was a locker buddy with freshman year and who was a wild guy, and pretty funny.  We actually went on a double date...with girls!
     Some people I see often, like John and his brother Frank.  I don't need to go to a reunion to have fun with them.  FB buddy Georgette may be there, and I haven't seen her since the 40th reunion and she is fun to talk with.
     Others have already left us, and it was far too soon.
     At maybe the 35th or 40th reunion, I heard a wild laugh from the next table.  I knew it was Boom Boom.  I turned toward her and yelled, "Boom Boom!"  She was shocked, because no one had called her that since high school.  Funny thing was, she knew exactly where Rochelle was because her second husband came from Franklin Grove.  I think she had a couple more after that one.
I did not go to all the reunions, in fact, I don't remember which ones I did attend.  I think I have been to three, maybe four.  Jackie went to the first one with me and we watched as my prom date's husband staggered into the women's bathroom because he was too drunk to tell the difference.  She didn't want to go to any more after that.  And I understand.  I don't think she has gone to any of hers either.
     Another time one of the  A-listers stopped at our table and looked at us.  "I know you, I know you, I know you, I don't know you, don't know you..." and walked on, no hello, no how are you.  He was kind of a jerk in high school, and he went to NIU so I ran into him a couple of times there.  He is one of the people I really don't care to see again.
     But it is the 50th reunion.  Chris, Ken, Rick, Connie, Suzanne did not come to any of the ones I went to.  Maybe this one will be the charm and I'll get to reconnect with people I liked in high school.
     Notice, there were not many names.
     And now that I am thinking about it, I'm leaning toward going.
     After all, how bad could it be?

old friends, sat on a park bench like bookends

I have been thinking about being old lately

    When we drive to the airport on 294 north, we pass a tall building...must be 25 stories.  It is in the middle of what looks to be an industrial zone.  The tollway is in front, a rail yard behind it.  A road next to it and a huge parking lot, which never has a lot of cars.
  It's a retirement home.  It scares the crap out of me, because I don't want to go there!!
     I want to go to a place like in Rochelle.....but I can't remember the name of it.  San Gabriel!  That's it.
     I want to go to a place that still allows the residents a little dignity.
     After all, nothing says dignity like having pudding drip down your chin as you gum your dessert.
     I know, 70 is the new 60.  I want to say that is pure bull shit.  70 is 70.  Your body starts to betray you, one shoulder at a time, and that's in the 60s.  I can't believe how many people are in PT for shoulder issues.  I would ask for a show of hands, but many of us can't.  That's why meetings with a lot of seniors rely on voice votes.
     Hearing goes.  Soon you find yourself saying, "What?" a lot but refusing to admit you can't hear well.  That also explains some decisions made by groups of seniors with bad hearing.  Which is better than a group of Scandanavians with bad herring.  But I digress.
     You repeat things.  Stories, memories, things you've already said.
     You forget where you put things.  Like car keys, or letters from the government that tell you you owe $13,000 in back taxes and they will confiscate your home and remaining teeth with gold fillings unless you pay now.
     You repeat things.  Stories, memories, things you've already said.
     I put leftovers in the pantry last night.  Actually, I went in the pantry with the leftovers and realized I was in the wrong place.
     But what if I had to go to the bathroom??
     Small tasks become harder, which is about the only thing in your life that gets hard.
     You repeat things.  Stories, memories, things you've already said.
     Technology overwhelms.
     You begin to wear saggy baggies....not intentionally, but because you forgot your belt or put on somebody else's pants.
     And I wonder.  What will happen to the people I care for?  Will I still be able to see them?  Hear them?  Will they be able to see me, feel me, touch me.....wait, I am channeling the Who.
     I have come to realize a lot of things.  I'll never be president.  I won't even be a congressman or state rep.  I'll never be a famous tv star, hobnobbing with Jennifer Anison or Tom Hanks.
     And all that is ok, as long as I don't end up with a view of the tollway and railroad tracks, false teeth and no one to talk to.
     That would be sad.

If I could put time in a bottle

The concept of time completely escapes me

     Seriously!  I just have a hard time with it.
     I had an MRI today.  Nothing to do with time, except to emphasize I can be places on time.   I did the MRI at Rochelle Community, and it was a pleasant experience.  I had headphones and could listen to Sirius XM, so I tuned into the Buffet station.  During the test, I closed my eyes and pictured my friends Carrie, Ross, Steven, Stacy,  Chris, TC, Erin, Todd, Curt, at a concert in the warmth of summer, singing along, dancing, having fun......sigh.
     Anyway, here's how time functions with me.  Or doesn't function.
     I was at NIU, taking a political science course.  My sophomore year, spring semester.  I studied.  I was ready.  I was walking to class and saw a couple of people from my class.
    "Where were you?" they asked.  "We didn't see you at the test."
      I was on my way to the test, which everyone else in the class had finished!  I was two hours late.
     I found the professor.  He was a dour guy with no sense of humor.  Or he was really funny and I didn't get any of his jokes.
     I  said, "I had the wrong time.  I missed the test.  What am I going to do?" I asked, in quite a panic because I was on continued academic probation. (I do hold the school record.  Academic probation five of my nine semesters.)
      He looked at me and said, "I guess you will fail." And went back to cleaning off his desk.
     I explained my situation, and he said he did not have another class and was really busy packing because he was moving to California the next day.
     He did take pity on me.  He invited me over to his apartment to take the test.  So there I sat, on his balcony, while his wife was packing boxes and he was grading the exams.
     I did pass.
    When Jackie and I started dating at NIU, we were involved in a campus group called Canterbury, which was part of the Episcopal Church.  There were several of us in the group.  We talked, ate pizza, put on plays, and liked each other.
     One of the guys, Jerry, decided to become a Catholic priest and there was a going away party for him.
     Directions were to park across the street from the house in the field.
     Jackie and I pulled up.....not a car in sight.  I figured we were early.
     I rang the bell, a woman named Joyce answered and looked at me in disbelief.
    "I know, I am early....first ones here," I boasted.
     She shook her head. I was actually 24 hour late.  The party was the previous day.  Jerry was on his way.
  I have missed appointments, forgotten dates, lost opportunities, because of time.
     Last Friday I had a PT appointment.  I have worked extra hard at being on time.  So I wrote down 10:30 in my date book, appointment book, notebook.  And then I thought it was noon, so I missed it.
    Time is not my friend.  But then again, maybe it's all in my head.

Bear down, Chicago Bears....

I may have broken a vow today

     I made that vow last week, during the blowout in Green Bay.
     I vowed never to watch a Bear game again.  Well, that lasted less than a week.
     Emily got some tickets from Kevin.  (Thanks!!  Great game!!)  So I broke my vow and went to the game.
     Great seats.  Good people around us!  (Four of them from Rochelle)
     Good crowd.  Nobody was obnoxious around us, despite one or two Vikings fans in the midst.
     Good weather.  Ok, it was cold, and snowy, but the wind wasn't very strong so it did not seem as cold as the NIU game last Tuesday.
     I think this was my first time in the new Soldier Field.  I remember going with Julia years ago, but I think it was before the remodel. I also remember a preseason game some years back.
     The Bears did almost everything right today.  Sure, they had almost three times the yardage of Minnesota yet only won by a score.
     Yes, Cutler got intercepted on a poor throw, made off balance, but he also threw three touchdown passes.
     And the defense seemed to have a little life.  Maybe those old guys are not washed up after all.
     So, no more words....just pictures.

20 minutes before the game and the stands were pretty empty

The suites would be sweet on a cold day!

Looking toward the lake and harbor

Stadium club...and yes, they let me in!

The historic columns of Soldier Field

Hear come da Bears

I am upside down, not the flag

Roof tops.....not like Wrigley at all!!