Was it COVID Brain Fog or Writers Block?

It’s time to let the creative juices flow once more!

It's been a while since I have done it.
Put words to the page and then I've spun it.
Sending to readers a timely missive.
Hoping my followers aren't too dismissive.

I'm not sure of precise causation
That caused two weeks of blog cessation.
What was it kept my fingers napping
Instead of on the keyboard tapping.

It started when two lines appeared
On the COVID test I'd commandeered.
The first line meant the test was working.
The second confirmed the virus's lurking.

Two Moderna shots then double boosted.
Yet still in my nose the microbe roosted.
With coughs and sneezes and feeling sickly.
Into quarnatine I disappeared quickly.

So empty moments were now my friend.
Hours  of leisure I thought I'd spend.
Writing blogs 'bout things that were popping.
I might have been sick but the world was not stopping.

My mind was all foggy, could not concentrate at
The things going on that I'd want to debate at.
But now it's much better and I'm seeing clearly
Here are some things I missed most severly.

There were hearings in DC that were causing a ruckus
They told how Trump and his friends were trying to f*ck us.
Thanks to Adam, Elaine and of course Ms Liz Cheney.
We were sure mesmerized learning about how insane he.

The planet is hotter, it's like a fire pit glowing
Who knows just what to our kids we're bestowing.
Heat waves, deadly storms, and still the President's action
Was blocked by refrains from coal's friend Hot Joe Manchin.

But up in the cosmos there was such delight
As the Webb telescope provided a sight.
Of the universe edges as they were at formation
I say it's Big Bang, some say God's creation.

Those topics I missed while my brain it was snoozing
So my silence for weeks I hope your excusing.
I'll do what I can to get back up to snuff.
For reading this verse, I can't thank you enough.

_________________________________

Like what you read here? Add your name to our subscription list below. No spam, I promise! ___

#mc_embed_signup{background:#fff; clear:left; font:14px Helvetica,Arial,sans-serif; }
/* Add your own MailChimp form style overrides in your site stylesheet or in this style block.
We recommend moving this block and the preceding CSS link to the HEAD of your HTML file. */

Subscribe to our mailing list

* indicates required

Email Address *

First Name

Last Name

//s3.amazonaws.com/downloads.mailchimp.com/js/mc-validate.js(function($) {window.fnames = new Array(); window.ftypes = new Array();fnames[0]=’EMAIL’;ftypes[0]=’email’;fnames[1]=’FNAME’;ftypes[1]=’text’;fnames[2]=’LNAME’;ftypes[2]=’text’;}(jQuery));var $mcj = jQuery.noConflict(true); ———————————–

Security Vs Privacy–Which Matters to You?

I was listening to an online Homeowners Association Board meeting the other night (Barb does an exemplary job as Board President) as a resident gave a presentation about an item not on the agenda.

Jack had done some research and wanted the Board to know about a crime reduction security product that could be available to our subdivision. The product consists of a security camera to be placed at the subdivision entrance (we only have one) to photograph each entering automobile and transmit the license plate and other identifying information of the car to a database of vehicles reported as stolen or wanted for involvement in other criminal activity.

Any matches are immediately flagged and sent to the local police dispatch center for a real-time response. The police can apprehend the driver and prevent a crime from occurring in our subdivision. And by the way, all data is stored “in the cloud” for 30 days.

The Board asked Jack a few questions but since the item was not on the agenda Barb appropriately limited the discussion and let Jack know this would be considered at a future date.

I don’t know about you, but the prospect of a system like this horrifies me! Every time I or a guest of mine enters my own subdivision, the police will have a permanent record of the entrance. Who will have access to that data? For what purposes might it be used? What has happened to any sense of privacy?

Yes, our subdivision currently has a security camera. It records comings and goings and if, and only if, a crime is committed in the subdivision, those recordings are reviewed to see if the perpetrator can be identified. I get that. But to me, that is very different than the prospect of screening every car in real-time.

I know that surveillance is part of our daily lives. I know that every time I go past a toll plaza on the Tri-State the I-Pass system creates a permanent record. And I know credit cards and cell phones also leave never-disappearing traces of my whereabouts. But these are systems and devices I choose to use. And to the best of my knowledge, they are not immediately cross-referenced to a criminal database.

I value at least a little bit of privacy, even though I am not as privacy-conscious as I should be. I still use Google to do my online searches rather than the (claimed to be) more private DuckDuckGo. I probably use unsecured WiFi when I shouldn’t. I’m sure I make a thousand other mistakes that destroy my privacy. But do the local gendarmes really need a record of when I come home at night?

Security vs Privacy. It is a delicate balance. But this proposed security system is too intrusive for me. In the security vs privacy battle, I vote for privacy on this one.

How about you? Tell me what you think. I promise I won’t be tracking you!

Like what you read here? Add your name to our subscription list below. No spam, I promise! ___

Subscribe to our mailing list

* indicates required

Email Address *

First Name

Last Name

Highland Park Reminds Us That Guns Kill People and Destroy Our Liberty

I did not want to be the first person to write about the outrage in Highland Park or even one of the first ten or the first hundred.

I was not there on that horrible July 4th morning. Nor was anyone from my family, nor any neighbors. And I don’t know any of the deceased nor any of those left orphaned or widowed or just bereft. I wanted those people to have a chance to tell their stories first.

But I have walked those streets in downtown Highland Park. I’ve had an apple pancake at Walker Brothers, bought canasta supplies at Ross, selected camp stuff for the kids at Gearhead when it was still Uncle Dan’s. This deadly act felt so personal.

My life has been touched by death many times. Natural causes, suicides, and even a few murders. But I can’t think of anything so senseless, so selfish, or so shameful as this tragedy. The gut-punch won’t go away.

We lament today but I fear that except for a handful of people whose lives have been irretrievably altered, nothing will change.

High-powered rifles will continue to be a fact of life and death. Handguns will continue to kill police, to kill offenders, to kill bystanders. And don’t tell me they are needed for self-defense. I’m not buying it, and these guys aren’t either.

I am not sure how and why our country reached this state of firearm saturation. I am not sure what we can do about it. The new Bipartisan Safer Communities Act is a first step, most significant in showing that congressional sanity is a possibility.

Freedom to yield a weapon needs to stop when it touches my freedom or your freedom or anyone’s freedom to live a long, loving, and legal life. That’s what Independence Day now means to me.

Like what you read here? Add your name to our subscription list below. No spam, I promise! ___

Subscribe to our mailing list

* indicates required

Email Address *

First Name

Last Name

Pudding It On the Line. Who Remembers This?

I caught Dan Bernstein and Laurence Holmes, two WSCR radio hosts, talking about pudding the other day. “You take the banana pudding from Jewel, plop some Nilla Wafers on top, and it tastes like an upside-down banana cream pie. It is the best.”

Well, guys, I may value your opinion on whether a particular White Sox manager should be fired and the likelihood that the Bears will win more than 5 games in the upcoming season, but as for pudding, you know nothing, Lawrence Holmes.

Maybe it’s because of my history as a Jewel employee in the 1970s, but I avoid the fresh food in the Jewel deli section. No, if I want store-bought pudding I am going to head to one of my neighborhood Sunset Foods grocery stores and get a pound of their homemade rice pudding.

I sprinkle a bowl full of the pudding with some cinnamon, mix in some pieces of frozen banana and there’s a treat I can curl up in front of the TV with to watch an episode of Yellowstone or Stranger Things. That one pound is enough to get me through a week of TV melodramas.

There wasn’t always a Sunset Foods in my life. Long ago, my dad and I enjoyed a different store-bought pudding. It wasn’t from the deli counter. In fact, it wasn’t even fresh. It was a frozen treat from Birds Eye, the masters of freezer delights back in the 1960s. Called Cool ‘n Creamy, it was sold in plastic tubs that looked just like the one Cool Whip comes in today. And it was delicious.

Cool ‘n Creamy came in several flavors, Dad and I were fans of vanilla. I would eat mine plain, while he would douse his bowlful with Himbeersaft, an imported red raspberry syrup. We didn’t have cable TV or streaming service back then, but we could still sit in front of our old black and white Zenith and watch Jack Brickhouse broadcast a ball game on WGN.

Sadly, Dad passed many years ago and Cool ‘n Creamy is a long-gone relic of a different age. And I have moved on.

So Dan and Laurence, enjoy your banana pudding/upside-down banana cream pie. I’m going to be digging into another bowl of my rice pudding concoction—and loving it!.

Like what you read here? Add your name to our subscription list below. No spam, I promise! ___

Subscribe to our mailing list

* indicates required

Email Address *

First Name

Last Name

I Won’t Let Them Get Me Down! Observations on a bright spring day.

A little verse for when things look worse.

I’ve written much the last few days
Of courts and cults and horrors.
I’ve slung the mud,
Not toed the line,
I chose to take no quarters.

“You’re far too mean,” was said to me
By Barb, my sharpest critic.
“The things you say
Are very harsh.
Your tongue is too acidic.”

And so it’s time to calibrate,
To find some sweeter words.
To find the good
In what I see,
The moon, the grass, the birds.

We took a walk around the loop,
That’s the border of our ‘hood.
Our dog was prancing
At our side.
His temperament was good.

A gorgeous day, the sky was blue.
Not a drop was raining.
80 degrees
With a freshening breeze.
It was time to stop complaining.

So I thought about the many things,
That make my life completer.
Our family blessed
With all its health.
There’s nothing could be sweeter.

The friends we’ve had for a thousand years,
At least that’s how it seems.
And the new ones in
Our neighborhood.
With whom we share Canasta schemes.

The trips we take, and those we plan
For someday around the corner.
We’ll see the Arctic
When I retire
Or visit someplace warmer.

The films we watch, the books we read,
Shows on Hulu, Max, and cable.
Give our minds an escape
And open our lives
When Closed Captioning we enable.

We volunteer and donate blood and stuff
To help those who need a hand.
Those things bring good
Into our lives
And allow our horizons to expand.

Best, there’s this blog, this thing I do
Because for me, to write’s a pleasure.
And to hear your responses
And your points of view
Provides my thoughts with a refresher.

So I’ll be kind, no venom breathe
I’ll be no rabble rouser.
Until the next piece
Of vile Fox news,
Appears on my M’soft browser.

Like what you read here? Add your name to our subscription list below. No spam, I promise! ___

Subscribe to our mailing list

* indicates required

Email Address *

First Name

Last Name

What’s Wrong With These Doors?

“Beep, Beep.”

No, It is not the Roadrunner. It is the refrigerator is beeping at me. Once again I have left the freezer door open. Not even our upscale wood-paneled, state-of-the-art side-by-side refrigerator-freezer can keep things cool if I keep doing that.

Leaving doors open is a tendency of mine that has become frightfully frequent. And it does not stop with the Sub-Zero. I have bruised hips from kitchen drawers I only partially close and then bump into. I have suffered innumerable near concussions hitting my head against the cabinet door above my microscope, the one I perpetually leave half-open.

Of course, not all of my door-closing forgetfulness leads to bodily damage. This weekend I left the trunk lid open while shopping at our favorite Sunset Grocery Store. Sure, in the past I have left the gas cap cover open. Who hasn’t? But the whole trunk lid? A new low for me. Fortunately, no dishonest shoppers decided to borrow any of the fold-up camp chairs that were stored in the “boot.”

But I have to confess, all these dooritos have gotten me to start worrying. Is my inattentiveness to closing doors and drawers and trunk lids the start of a previously undescribed neurological disorder? Is it akin to one of those rare entities like prosopagnosia (the inability to make out details in faces,) or Capgras Syndrome (the belief that someone you know has been replaced by an imposter?) Will I soon mistake my wife for a hat? Does this condition have a name? Am I suffering from Doorignorsia?

Barb says not to worry. She says I have never been any good at closing things. Or at turning off lights when I leave the room. It’s all just part of my absent-minded-professor persona, just like the emails I send without the promised attachments or the black suit I forget to pick up from the dry cleaner in time for the important dinner. Details, details, details.

Just to be safe and in the interest of continuity, I had better end this blog before I lose track of where I started. And oh yeah, I’m going to try to remember to close the door when I go to the fridge for a snack.

.For our previous blog on early reading, click HERE!

Like what you read here? Add your name to our subscription list below. No spam, I promise! ___

Subscribe to our mailing list

* indicates required

Email Address *

First Name

Last Name

Early Reading Should Be One Thing: Fun

Banning books. Burning books. Books pushing agendas. What about books that teach kids that it’s fun to read?

Growing up in the city, I always got such pleasure reaching for a favorite book. It was just as much fun as a game of fastpitch at the Field School schoolyard, or hoops at Leone Fieldhouse. And that passion outlived other time-passers. I don’t play baseball or basketball anymore, but I still love curling up with a good novel in the sunroom.

Plenty of the books I read in those formative years came from Scholastic Books. Our classroom teacher would distribute the company’s flyer to our classroom. I would pore over each book description, trying to make the best choice for the 3 or 4 books I would convince my parents to order for me. And I felt darn proud when the teacher told the class that I could choose anything I wanted, even though some books were a year or two above our grade level.

My penchant for mystery stories came early. I remember being in 2nd or 3rd grade hunting for clues in The Secret of Black Rock, The Dugout Canoe Mystery, and Emil and the Detectives. Those were but precursors to my discovery of Hercule Poirot, Miss Marple, and Sherlock Holmes. Highpockets and other books by the prolific author John R Tunis were my passageways to sports fiction.

There were kid-geared biographies, too. After one School Parent’s Night Book Fair, my folks surprised me with a biography of Helen Keller. It was paired with a Thomas Edison biography containing the story, probably apocryphal, of the young inventor being pulled onto a train by his ears.

When I was eight my Swiss uncle gave me the English translation of the German children’s book Lottie and Lisa by Erich Kästner. While the title may not seem familiar to you, I assure you that you crushed on either Hayley Mills or Lindsay Lohan in The Parent Trap, movies based on that Kastner story.

Not every book had a story to tell. I memorized volumes filled with jokes, riddles, and whimsical verses. The first poem I could ever recite?

The Thunder God went for a ride,
Upon his favorite filly.
"I'm Thor," he cried.
The horse replied,
"You forgot your thaddle, thilly."

Now ask me how much of The Wasteland from my college English Lit of the 20th Century course I can remember…

Yes, I understand that early reading needs to be inclusive and non-stereotypical. But please, please, please let it be fun. What is more effective than instilling the joy of reading to produce a loving, caring, open-minded person and citizen?

Are you a music or radio fan? Check out our previous post here.

Like what you read here? Add your name to our subscription list below. No spam, I promise! ___

Subscribe to our mailing list

* indicates required

Email Address *

First Name

Last Name

WXRT Hires New Jock–A Greeting To Her From the Program Director.

Getting More from Les Blog Readers: You might have read that WXRT has hired a new DJ, AnnaLisa Parziale, a radio veteran with stints in San Francisco and Boston. Somehow, an email from ‘XRT program director Laura Duncan to Annalisa wound up in my inbox. I reproduce it below with only slight editing for brevity.

******

Dear Annalisa,

Welcome to Chicago and WXRT. As your program director, I am sure that I will be your new best friend in the whole world, no matter what Lin Brehmer tells you.

I know that throughout your career you have heard great things about WXRT and that you are looking forward to all the freedom and variety that you will have while programming your show. There are just a few little rules, or as I like to call them, suggestions, that will help you fit into our family.

You are required to play one song by The Cure on each shift. We have six tracks to choose from. I prefer if you don’t play Friday I’m In Love on Fridays. It is just sooo cliche.
The Clash must always be referred to as The Only Band That Matters, even though we only have two of their songs on our allowed playlist.
Terri plays the Beatles. Period.
We feature a heavy rotation of one Grateful Dead song a month. Last month’s selection was Touch of Grey. This month I haven’t yet decided between Uncle John’s Band or Touch of Grey. I will let you know when I make up my mind. In the meantime, in case you have any inclination to play Truckin’, don’t.
Sprinkle in a few anecdotes of the first time you heard a particular band in concert. It doesn’t have to make sense, but it shows the listeners you are just like them.
Playing Chicago music means playing Smashing Pumpkins, or occasionally Wilco. And a couple of blues guys to prove how hip we are. Their names escape me.
For the first 45 years of this station, Aerosmith was just the misspelling of a Sinclair Lewis novel. But ever since The Loop, Chicago’s harder rock station, shut down, we at XRT have been courting their Incel former listeners. Therefore we have been rocking Dream On every other Tuesday. Ditto, I’m looking for a slot to crank out some Van Halen. You good with Panama?
We don’t do news, Huey Lewis or otherwise. Mary Dixon has left the building.
In view of your recent history in Massachusetts, and because our listeners fantasize over Phoebe Cates, you may play The Cars Moving in Stereo as often as you desire. On the other hand, playing the band Boston is strictly verboten. So is playing Chicago.
Måneskin. Always more Måneskin. I’m begging.

Good luck and welcome.

REM forever,

Laura

Read our take on the Supreme Court.

Like what you read here? Add your name to our subscription list below. No spam, I promise! ___

Subscribe to our mailing list

* indicates required

Email Address *

First Name

Last Name

How To Tell When Dogs or Cats Don’t Like You

Barb showed me a video on Facebook the other day that gives you hints on how to tell that your dog doesn’t like you. The video discusses tips such as if the dog growls at you, the dog won’t let you touch it, or the dog doesn’t look you in the eye, you probably are not the pooch’s favorite person.

It was all straightforward, and with each passing enumeration, Barb and I were able to say “That’s not us. Cooper still likes us.”

But I got to thinking–how can you tell if a cat doesn’t like you? So having lived with felines since I was 8 years old, I feel qualified to share the following list with all of you.

How To Tell That Your Cat Doesn’t Like You

If your cat doesn’t look at you–he may not like you.
If your cat looks at you for more than 3 seconds–she probably doesn’t like you.
If you haven’t cleaned the litter box in a couple of days–she might poop in your bed to show she doesn’t like you.
If he doesn’t like the fresh litter in his box–he might pee on the dog’s bed to show he doesn’t like any of you.
If your cat purrs when you hold her–it’s only a trick to make you think she likes you so you feel compelled to feed her.
If your cat comes when you call her name–it is really a dog wearing a cat costume.*
If you only own one cat–he doesn’t like you.
If you own more than one cat–at least half of them, and most likely all of them, don’t like you.
If you fill the cat’s water bowl–she will drink from the toilet to prove her disdain for you.
While you are cleaning the vomited fur ball of your bed in the middle of the night–the cat doesn’t like you for waking him up.

Cats are cats. So if it is unconditional love you are looking for, a cat might not be your best bet. Have you considered a pet iguana?

Read our take on the Supreme Court.

*Note: this one doesn’t apply to us since after 12 years we still have not named our current cat. Any suggestions?

Like what you read here? Add your name to our subscription list below. No spam, I promise!

Subscribe to our mailing list

* indicates required Email Address * First Name Last Name

Thumbs, Tires, and Tradition. This Story Has It All.

Some people (such as Barb) are born with green thumbs. Some people (such as residents of the planet Twilo) are born without thumbs. And then, there is me, born all thumbs.

To lay it on the line, I am no handyman. I put this down to nature and nurture. My dad lived to be 80 years old, and I don’t believe he ever held a tool in his hand. From his upbringing in a fairly up-scalish home in Berlin, through adulthood in various Chicago apartments, there was always someone else to do the dirty work.

That’s not to say I haven’t tried to be a macho man. I can pull out a toolbox laden with wrenches and hammers and screwdrivers. Yet every hose I attach to any faucet leaks, every screw I drive quickly becomes stripped, and every smart device I connect laughs at me.

All this is a long way of saying, that the other day when a nice co-worker came to tell me she had noticed my car in the parking lot with a flat tire, my first impulse was NOT to get out the car jack and crank ‘er up. To be honest, I didn’t even know if I had a jack–or a spare.

So I did what most Jewish males would do in my situation–I made a phone call. AAA promised me a service truck within about 45 minutes…and two hours later one arrived. No, the tech didn’t have the right tools to get my old tire off or to properly hitch up my car for a tow. But he was a nice guy, and managed to load the car onto his flatbed, tightened the straps, and took me and my ride to the AAA service center, a country music Sirius station playing all the way.

The guy at the service center desk looked tired and overworked but was nice enough to squeeze my car into the schedule and onto a lift. Up went the car, and after some sledgehammer work, off came the tire, revealing a slash on the inner sidewall. In the More Bad News Department, no replacement tire was available.

On went the slow-drive spare (yes, I did have one), and I began the long drive to the north suburbs. Fortunately, it was now rush hour, so I had no problem limiting my speed to 50 mph on the congested Tri-State Tollway. Also, fortunately, the tire dealer where I have already replaced 7 tires on my 4-year-old car was open and they had my tire size in stock. It would be a 90-minute wait, so Barb picked me up, we had a carry-out dinner, and got back to the tire dealer just before closing time.

As I drove home, I noticed I still had all my thumbs, and they were all still grease and grime free. From Berlin to Riverwoods, some things never change.

Like what you read here? Add your name to our subscription list below. No spam, I promise! ___

Subscribe to our mailing list

* indicates required

Email Address *

First Name

Last Name