More Covid-19 Haiku For Today

As we struggle in our second month, the syllable count is not quite as precise as in the first edition. Just as life will never again be as smooth.

SPRING

Though April is the cruelest month.
We mustn’t become a wasteland
Of hollow city streets.

VACCINES

Hope for tiny pinpricks
To keep the viral bits at bay
And pray that no other comes.

LEADERS
I am not a student
Of our presidential history
But some would have done better.

STREAMING

Now the greatest challenge
For homebound’s brain to decipher
Watch Hulu, Netflix, or Prime?

MASKING

Our eyes peer out bravely
Over narrow strips of cloth and paper
Looking for friendly smiles.

DISTANCE

We walk a looping road
Measuring a mile each time we circuit
Six feet is so far apart.

ANTIBODIES

At U of I Med we were taught
About the immunoglobulins M and G.
Now the whole world is learning.

EXPERTS

When EF Hutton talked
People listened to their good advice
But Dr. Fauci’s is better.

SANITIZERS

Hand washing can chafe
While alcoholic disinfectants
Leave an irritating tang.

FUTURE

We don’t forfeit our hope
We use it all up and then we remember
Hope is a renewable energy

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Get Some Value From Your Coins. Here is How.*

See that shiny round thing at the top of the heap? That is a coin. A dime, to be precise. I accidentally came across one in my dresser drawer this morning, reaching around in the dark for my earbuds. It was the first coin I have touched since COVID-19. Heck, it is the first coin I have touched since New Years’. And maybe the New Years before that.

Once upon a time, stretching through a couple of thousand years of history, coins had a purpose. You could collect them in little blue folders. You could use them in vending machines, in arcade games, to pay your tolls. You could even use them to buy things in a store. That was all back in the day. The last time I can recall looking for a couple of quarters was to turn on the air pump at the gas station down the road, the station too low-rent to have a credit card reader installed on the air supply.

Barb still uses coins for one thing. She carries a change purse loaded with quarters for mahjong. That is, she did until we were Covid’d. Now the mahj crowd is all on-line. Paid for electronically, of course.

Stores don’t want your coins anymore. Most of them don’t even want your cash. That doesn’t bother me at all. Instead of twenty-dollar bills from an ATM, my wallet bulges with plastic. I have the credit card that gets me points for travel (ok, not a real valuable reward right now.) I have the card that gets me free checked bags on United Airlines (also a current non-starter.) There is the one that gets me a chance to buy premium concert seats a week before everyone else (tell me quick, what is a concert?) and I have the only credit card that will let you buy toilet paper at my favorite aircraft carrier-sized grocery store, as long as the card reader is at least 6 feet from the cashier. I have a PayPal account too, but never think to use it for any of my online purchases or restaurant deliveries. Venmo and Zelle are still just at the fringe of my consciousness, things to investigate on a future day when I have more time on my hands. Hah!

If you read about coins on your favorite online newspaper, you are probably browsing an article about Bitcoin. I have no understanding of how cryptocurrency operates, but despite the name, I doubt it consists of discs inscribed with “E Pluribus Unum” or “In God We Trust.” At the moment one Bitcoin is worth $7012. That would be a pretty big stack of pennies.

With the demise of the coin, I fear we will also lose some of our treasured adages. Gone will be:

A penny for your thoughts.
Not worth a plugged nickel.
Your dime, your dance floor. (Probably already gone. We miss you, Chet Coppock.)

*So what to do with the coins still rumbling around in my drawer, and probably in yours too? I have a suggestion. Count your coins. For each coin send a dollar to one of your favorite charities. (Today I am going to choose Northern Illinois Food Bank.) Send a little less if it is all you can afford. But send something. Make those coins make a difference.

Have you read COVID Haiku?

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Was My Last Blog Too Authentic? I Hope the FBI Doesn’t Think So!

When I was a straight-laced Board of Education President I would hear the Superintendant and Department Chairs talk at our monthly meetings about “authentic learning.” Everyone in the room seemed to get it, so I would put on a smile and nod my head and wonder what they were talking about. What makes something “authentic”? I finally figured it out with my previous blog.

That blog, if you missed it, dealt with pedophilia in music. Yuck, right? I admit that although I began with a disclaimer, the column was written in a tone that may have seemed too light-hearted for the topic, and I apologize for that. But I needed a change of venue; there are only so many times I can commiserate about COVID-19, tell my family story, or rip President Trump a new @#$%^&*. And part of the point of the posting, the most authentic part, was pulling back the curtain on how my blog ideas are born and nurtured. As I pointed out in the blog, much of it was lifted from an email thread with friends that arose from a comment about an earlier blog. I excerpted and paraphrased, added an introduction and a closing, and voilà, a 500-word posting appeared. It was as natural and authentic as I can get.

Not everyone gave plaudits to the blog. Some were displeased with the topic. Others were worried that I would either attract pedophiles (not so far) or wind up on an FBI watchlist (maybe I have) or both.

One interesting message to me was that I shouldn’t have characterized this as a phenomenon in music since movies such as Pretty Baby deal with similar situations, and often in a more lurid manner. I concede that older men chasing girls is present in all the arts–that’s why my illustration for the blog was a movie poster from Lolita, the novel and film whose title character has become synonymous with the old man/young girl scenario. But music is always first on my mind.

I did, at one Facebook page owner’s request, delete the posting from one page where my blog usually runs. No problem with that, it is their site and only by their courtesy that I am allowed to post there. And no, that isn’t censorship. I have plenty of other places to post.

I guess I wrote an authentic post and got some authentic replies. If the blog offended you, I hope you give us a few more tries. If you liked the post, rest assured that I will still sometimes push the envelope. I’m not that straight-laced anymore!

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photo credit: Vicki’s Nature windmill over the fishing hole via photopin (license)

A List to Make You Cringe. There are No Winners Here.

Pedophilia. A criminal act that I do not endorse and not a usual blog topic. But sometimes my postings are born of strange circumstances. This is one of them. And here is how it came about.

In a group email, Michael, a West Coast friend of mine whose business card reads “film critic, journalist, instructor” chided me about a recent blog. He took umbrage at my inclusion of Gilbert O’Sullivan and Alone Again (Naturally) at the #1 slot in my list of Songs to Quarantine By, obviously believing the big 1972 hit was below my standard of excellence. I replied, still in the group email, that O’Sullivan had another hit with a second, even worse 1972 release, the queasiness-inducing Clair, a ballad sung to a very young girl. My final comment to Michael was “lock him up!”

And the flood gates of pedophile rock were released. Michael countered with Cousin Kevin, a disquieting number from The Who’s rock opera Tommy, an album which also featured Uncle Ernie–and I never trusted that uncle. Our mutual friend Gary joined in with Gary Puckett’s Young Girl and then reached way back into the musical time machine to dig up Steve Lawrence’s Go Away, Little Girl, a song he recorded five years into his marriage to Eydie Gormé. I wonder how Eydie felt about lyrics like “When you are near me like this, You’re much too hard to resist, So go away little girl before I beg you to stay.” Anything for a hit song!

More cringe-worthy numbers came flying off the shelf. The Police’s Don’t Stand So Close To Me, for every male teacher being lusted after, and doing some lusting himself. Sex and Candy by Marcy Playground. And then our resident blues/R&B expert Roger rocked in with a slew of suggestions. He named lots of Sweet 16 type songs from blues stalwarts BB King, Chuck Berry, and John Lee Hooker. Roger also accused Mr. Berry of going for 3-year-old Marie in Memphis, but I assured him Marie was 6 years old, at least in the Johny Rivers cover version of the song.

None of us came up with a woman perpetrator, Mary Kay Letourneau not having a hit record that we know of. And for Barb’s sake, I am giving a pass to Girl, You’ll Be a Woman Soon, both because Neil Diamond would never have underage thoughts, and because of the dynamite version by Chicago’s own Urge Overkill in Pulp Fiction. Uma Thurman was nobody’s little girl.

So why is there so much music about those predatory urges? Maybe it is the lifestyle of musicians. Just ask Stones bassist, Bill Wyman. I am sure he could tell you all about it. I know you could come up with many more songs for this list–but don’t send ’em in. I can get by just fine without any added ickiness.

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The Good or the Bad–Beatles or Broadway. A Choose Your Own Adventure. Part 2

Beatles or Broadway--you make the choice! — Beatles or Broadway–you make the choice!

Best Songs by the Solo Beatles, or Worst Theater Experiences. You Make the Choice.

I wrote about my favorite theater experiences long ago. But sometimes writing “Best Of” lists get boring. Sometimes I’ve got to let the other flag fly. Can I remember my 10 worst theater experiences? Here’s a shot at it. ((Confession: although most of these shows have played Broadway, we saw most as local productions.)

Ten Theater Take-Downs and Disappointments

10. Spring Awakening. Marriott Lincolnshire Theatre. 2016. Based on an old German play. It should have stayed there!

9. Big Fish. Nederlander Theatre. 2013. If I could have stayed awake it might have made more sense to me.

8. The Merchant of Venice. Bank of America Theatre. 2011. Starring F. Murray Abraham, I was so looking forward to this. But the air-conditioning failed on an unusually hot early spring day, and we felt as if we were broiling under a Venetian sun in mid-summer.

7. Godspell. Marriott Lincolnshire Theatre. 2014. We left at intermission. At least half the audience left before we did.

6. The Pirate Queen. Cadillac Palace Theatre. 2006. Alain Boublil and Claude-Michel Schönberg wrote Les Misérables. We loved it. They wrote Miss Saigon. We tolerated it. They wrote The Pirate Queen. We detested it.

5. Next to Normal. Bank of America Theatre. 2011. On Broadway, Pulitzer Prizes and Tony Awards. For the Broadway in Chicago production., not even a Jeff Award.

4. Into the Woods. Marriott Lincolnshire Theatre. 2006. I know I am supposed to like Sondheim. I try. I really try.

3. In the Sick Bay of The Santa Maria. Goodman Theatre New Stages Festival. 2019. It was short, it was experimental. The tickets were free and still over-priced.

2. Chess. Marriott Lincolnshire Theatre. 1990. Evita meets ABBA in this Tim Rice-Benny Andersson-Björn Ulvaeus mish-mash. My mother was babysitting for the kids and called us during intermission to tell us our son had a fever. We were overjoyed to have such a good reason to leave the theater.

1. Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown. Belasco Theatre. 2010. Patti LuPone, Sheree Renee Scott, Laura Benanti, Brian Stokes Mitchell. Too many stars, too much of a hot-hot-mess.

Did you like some of these shows? Or maybe you have even worse theater memories. Tell me about it!

Click here for the “Bests” in today’s double feature.

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The Good or the Bad–Beatles or Broadway. A Choose Your Own Adventure. Part 1

Best Songs by the Solo Beatles, or Worst Theater Experiences. You Make the Choice.

Things come together; things come apart. The most infamous break-up in the music world was the end of the Beatles. I know that I can’t pick any one song as my favorite Beatle hit, but can I pick a bestie from each of John, Paul, George, and Ringo’s solo careers?

Let’s get the easiest one out of the way first. Mr. Starr has recorded a few numbers that have stayed with me. It Don’t Come Easy is a song that sends out a message in these trying times. Oh My My and No No Song are nice and whimsical. So is Bang on the Drum. What, you say? That isn’t Ringo, that’s Todd Rundgren? Well, shouldn’t it be a Ringo tune?

What wins the Ringo Round-Up for me? Hands down, it’s Photograph, a warm-but-sad ode to a lost lover. George Harrison helped write and produce, but this is Ringo’s shining moment.

Speaking of George, what’s my favorite song from the guy who always seemed like the most morose Beatle? What is Life? Too questiony. Bangladesh? Too rooted in the 70s. My Sweet Lord? Bingo. Despite issues with the lyrics (too religious) and the melody (too much of a Chiffon’s rip-off,) I’ll always stop and listen when this comes up on my Pandora stream. Hallelujah, Hare Hare, Hare Krishna!

Then there is John. Yeah, most of you would vote for Imagine. Greatest song of all time and all that crap. I’m sorry, it is just too preachy and solemn for me. Even in COVID-19 times. When I want to hear Lennon get in people’s faces, I’ll make my pick Instant Karma. It’s gonna get you! Gotta love the real John, the snarky John.

Paul. The longest solo career, the most hits. The basic question? Is the song solo if it was with Linda? Or if it was with Wings? Sure–any post-Beatle Paul is Solo Paul. So I could choose something from McCartney or from Ram but I am going to give my favorite nod to the title song from the Wings album Band on the Run. Honorable mentions go to Live and Let Die and Uncle Albert/Admiral Halsey. I’ve always wanted to know what a butter pie tastes like.

I’m sure you disagree with some, or likely all, of my choices. Send me your favorites and I’ll take another listen. Now is the time to share.

For the “Worst” part of today’s double feature click here.

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Three Family Heirlooms. It’s The Little Things That Matter

With more time at home, there is more time to think about what makes a house a home. Yes we built this house and there are the fancy touches, the designer accents, the unique pieces that have caught Barb’s eye, and the few technical geegaws I try, often unsuccessfully, to operate (are you listening, Alexa?) But today I am thinking of a few things that precede this 3-year-old adventure. I have in mind a few pieces that have been with us for 35 years or so, things that have been in our possession since Barb’s mother Bea passed away in the early years of our marriage. Little pieces of legacy.

A Timeless Clock

I don’t know how this piece found its way into Barb’s household. It is a wall clock with a wooden frame, a mother of pearl face and a key-wound spring mechanism. Family legend describes it as a “French Bakery Clock” and web research suggests it was made around 1900 in the Mobier area of France. The frame is badly cracked, and despite the careful ministrations of a co-worker’s father who had an interest in old clocks, the little treasure no longer keeps time. But it hangs in the loft bedroom, where someday one of our grandkids will see it and ask Nana and Baba to tell them the story of the beautiful clock.

WearEver Forever

I have one recipe in my cooking arsenal. And when I want to brown the ground turkey, onions, jalapeño peppers, and garlic for a batch of my 4-alarm chili, I grab the WearEver frying pan, part of a set that was the go-to pots-and-pans set for Barb growing up. It is all aluminum and while the outer surface shows the residue of decades of frying, the cooking surface is bright and shiny and holds up well to an SOS pad. Some people, worried about aluminum being absorbed into their food, won’t cook with aluminum pans, but Cook’s Illustrated calls it perfectly safe and I’m going with that. Besides, I’d rather ingest a few aluminum molecules than a bunch of tiny Teflon particles. Or virus particles.

My Grandfather’s Clock Was Too Large For The Shelf

Barb’s dad Lee was a great salesman. He won lots of sales prizes. A microwave oven. The original version of the video game Pong. And a grandfather clock. I love that clock. Six feet tall, Westminster chimes, phases of the moon on the face, it has survived and thrived through numerous moves and months in storage. We modified our blueprints for this house to give the clock its own niche, right outside our bedroom door. Every five days I pull the chains to raise the weights and carefully adjust the pendulum to ensure the clock maintains perfect time. No power failure can stop its course or dull its peal. In the middle of the night, I will sometimes lay awake waiting for it to count out the hour for me. It brings comfort on a sleepless night. And in an odd bit of synchronicity–as I type this the clock is chiming 11, while my radio station is playing Clocks by Coldplay. The world works in mysterious ways.

Three pieces of family history. What will we pass on to our children when we no longer have a need for a house full of “things?” I know they will covet our piano, but I hope they will also find some little things that will remind them of us, and make them happy.

Have a joyous Passover or Easter.

Some recent blogs:

Haiku for our times.

Antisemitism.

Songs for Shut-ins.

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Ten Songs to Quarantine By. Number 1 Is A Natural.

Just a quick list for today. My mind has been going through my mental Rolodex and I have hit upon my Top 10 songs for the COVID 19 homebound.

Ten Songs For Those Alone At Home

10. Stuck in the Middle With You. Stealers Wheel. A song to sing to the empty chairs on your left and right.

9. The World Outside. The Four Aces. As you gaze out your window and yearn for an end to social distancing.

8. Every Breath You Take. The Police. It’s good you are breathing, just don’t exhale in my direction.

7. I Saw Her Standing There. The Beatles. But I stayed six feet away and she turned and walked away.

6. One Man’s Ceiling is Another Man’s Floor. Paul Simon. And that thin layer of floorboard and carpeting may be all that’s keeping you safe.

5. Empty Chairs at Empty Tables. Les Misérables. This isn’t the first time we have been all alone.

4. Rocket Man. Elton John. If I am going to be alone, get me up, up, and away.

3. The End. The Doors. Keep your hopes up, this too will end and we will be together.

2. The Ballad of Gilligan’s Isle. The Wellingtons. When you feel like you are all alone on a desert island, just remember that the Harlem Globetrotters could show up any day.

1. Alone Again (Naturally). Gilbert O’Sullivan. Naturally.

I am sure there are many more. Send ’em in. We are all in this together.

And don’t miss our COVID Haiku–They have traveled around the world.

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An Open Letter to “The Judge”. Yes It Is Anti-Semitism, Whether You Think So Or Not.

Dear Judge,

“That’s what you get from the Jew.” Really?

You lead a bunch of Merry Pranksters that would make Ken Kesey proud. You congregate once a week in an upstairs joint in the outer ring of the Chicago ‘burbs. The object is fun and games, complete with flashing lights, blaring horns, group rituals, and even some money changing hands.

Thirty or forty people show up on a good night, with even more popping in now that the action has moved online. You have been leading the celebration for years, but I am a more recent participant, a fifth or sixth wheel invited by my buddy FormerDJ to join in on an occasional basis when the stars are all aligned and his dentist pals are too busy drilling to participate.

And you have a shtick. First, you assign everyone a nickname. Some are clever, some are obvious, some are more subversive. But having a nickname means someone is “in” and once they are in, phase two of the shtick can begin. The spirit of Don Rickles flows through you and the insults flow. Like the nicknames, the insults can be clever, obvious or subversive. And while you might not think so, some are just wrong.

FormerDJ is the only Jewish person other than me at the gathering. FormerDJ is a thick-skinned guy. Your cracks like “Only a Jew would say that” or ” You can tell who the Jew is” seem to roll off his back. But they don’t sit well with me. Old stereotypes get new life when they are repeated often enough. Saying them, even in supposed-jest, doesn’t change the fact that they are being said. People hear and people remember. And no one objects.

Although our country is in a crisis now I have faith that we will pull through. But I have a fear that things could get worse, and when they do, chants of “Jew Will Not Replace Us” may gain voice and stridency. You have not said anything like that, and I hope you don’t believe anything like that. But I counted two of your Jewish jibes during our hour-and-a-half party last Thursday night. That is two slams too many for 90 minutes. In fact, Judge, it is two too many for a lifetime. I know you are smart; don’t be a fool.

Sincerely and with hope,

The GoodDoc

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A Few Thumbs Up Go Along Way These Days

Tough times make opportunities to step up. So some thumbs up are in order.

Thumbs Up: Political Showcase Division

Has there ever been a more Laurel and Hardyesque appearing duo than JB Pritzker and Lori Lightfoot? The rotund Governor and the tiny dynamo of a Mayor talk sense while neither downplaying the severity of the state’s and city’s situation or pushing us to panic. We may not need all those beds at McCormick Place now, we may wish it was filled with conventioneers instead of the Army Corps of Engineers, but there is some comfort in knowing the City that Works still works, and the state is right behind. Keep up the good work Governor, and we may forgive you for those ripped out toilets at the mansion.

Thumbs Up: Product Placement Divison

Remember our missing puzzle piece? The puzzle is a product of Ravensburger, a German company with a customer service division in New Jersey. We emailed them about our 99.9% puzzle, and a day later received a pleasant response from Asley, a customer service rep. We are being offered a choice of another copy of the same puzzle (no guarantee it won’t have the same problem, she says) or a brand new puzzle of our choosing. All we have to do is mail in the barcode from the box with the defective puzzle and the name of any puzzle we would like in replacement. Our “code” is in the mail and while we know that puzzles are in a tight supply right now we look forward to one day receiving 1000 pieces of “Disney Vintage Posters” or “The Beatles: Albums.”

Thumbs Up: Travel Division

Isn’t it ironic? Last fall Barb and I booked a tour of China and Hong Kong for this May. At the time, my main concern was the student demonstrations in Hong Kong. We knew by February that we would not be making our trek around the world but wanted to see how our travel partners would handle the situation. The good guys? United Airlines sent an email yesterday, giving me the option of changing my flight or canceling at no cost. The United website couldn’t handle the cancellation, but a call to customer service (minimal on-hold time) resolved the situation. No fees, no penalties, no remorse. Sometimes I’m glad United is our Hometown Airline.

Our other travel partner, tour originator Abercrombie & Kent, we are not so happy with. Even though the tour is canceled, they refuse to refund our deposit. Credit towards a future trip in the next year just isn’t the same as having that money in our pockets. Bad PR for them and I wonder how many travel companies will survive. At least we were not on a cruise. Those poor people…

Thumbs Up: Internet Division

I’m not plugging any particular spot here. Just a thumbs up to the miracle of connectiveness. Through the wonders of technology, Barb can play Mahjong with her friends and have her book clubs, I can have virtual laboratory meetings and contribute answers to my team on Remote Pub Trivia Night (Weezer, Baja Men, and Brooke Shields were my winners this week,) and the family can anticipate our interactive virtual Seder next week. It’s not quite being there–but it is still a blessing.

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photo credit: tricky (rick harrison) Woo via photopin (license)