GRIP, GRIP, GRIP, GRIP, GRIP, GRIP ….A LEAKING SHOWER, THIS IS NOT.....I’M READING FROM THE WAL-MART RECEIPT OF SCHOOL SUPPLIES MY SON ASSURED ME HE NEEDED FOR HIS SOPHOMORE YEAR OF HIGH SCHOOL. THESE "GRIPS" ARE SIX 2-DOLLAR-27 CENT PEN OR PENCIL SETS HE THINKS HE’LL GO THROUGH IN A SCHOOL YEAR, OR MAYBE LESS TIME. AFTER HEARING THIS, I’D SWEAR I NEEDED TO GET A GRIP MORE THAN MY SON. THE CART WE WERE WHEELING AROUND THE STORE FILLED UP FASTER THAN THE CART MY WIFE HAS USED AT THE SUPERMARKET TO BUY FRESH MELONS, BANANAS, VEGETABLES AND MEAT.
A THOUGHT RACED THROUGH MY MIND SOMEWHERE BETWEEN AISLE ONE AND AISLE SIX AT WAL MART. I ASKED MY SON, “DO YOU REALLY NEED SO MANY PENCILS….OR PENS?....YOU DIDN’T WRITE MUCH LAST YEAR…SPENT MORE TIME ON THE COMPUTER DOING YOUR WRITING." IMADE SUCH A BIG DEAL BECAUSE I COULD PICTURE MY WIFE DRILLING ME LATER, REMINDING ME I’M THE ADULT; I SHOULD HAVE KNOWN BETTER THAN TO ALLOW A 15-YEAR-OLD TO DICTATE WHAT SCHOOL SUPPLIES HE’D NEED. THEN I REALIZED SOMETHING ELSE, WHERE WERE ALL THE GUYS, THE FATHERS IN WAL-MART? MOST OF THE AISLES WERE FILLED WITH WOMEN AND CHILDREN. FOR A GUY, THIS WASN’T SUCH A BAD VISUAL OF THE MOMS IN PARTICULAR, BUT I COULDN’T REMOVE THE ALTERNATE VISUAL OF MY WIFE SHAKING HER HEAD AT ALL THE STUFF WE’D BRING HOME FROM WAL-MART, STUFF SHE’D SURELY SAY MORE THAN DUPLICATED WHAT WAS NECESSARY FOR OUR SON TO FINISH ALL HIS ASSIGNMENTS AND LAND ON THE HIGH HONOR ROLL. “DO YOU NEED SO MANY ZIP POUCHES, THEMEBOOKS, NOTEBOOKS, LEAD REFILLS, MAGIC TAPE?” SO MUCH STUFF LANDED IN THE CART, I DIDN’T KNOW WHETHER HE HIRED A COUPLE OF FIVE YEAR OLDS TO TOSS IN EVERYTHING THEY SAW ON THE LOWER SHELVES. . THEN WE FINISHED. NO MORE STUFF FLYING OFF THE SHELVES.... NO MORE STUFF!!!! I FELT RELIEF, ALBIET ONLY BRIEFLY…..A PACK OF GUM LANDED IN THE CART…..THEN HE WAS DONE.....I COULD TELL.......HE WAS CHECKING THE CHECKOUT….AND FOUND ONE THAT SEEMED MORE OF AN EXPRESS LINE; A MOM AND HER TODDLER; A WOMAN AND HER YOUNG DAUGHTER AND A DISTRAUGHT GUY, WAIT, THAT'S HOW I SAW MYSELF. OTHER CHECKOUTS HAD INCREDIBLE LINES OF SHOPPERS, SEEMED EVERY WOMAN WITH A KID HIT THE STORE ON THIS DAY AND THEY BOUGHT NEARLY EVERYTHING THEIR KIDS SAW.
I HAD SET ALL THE PENS, ZIP POUCHES, GRIPS, INDEX CARDS AND NOTEBOOKS FROM THE CART ONTO THE CHECKOUT COUNTER, BUT JUST THEN THE TODDLER IN A CART SEAT TWO CUSTOMERS AHEAD OF ME LET GO OF HIS GLASS BOTTLE OF CHOCOLATE MILK…AND THE BOTTLE FELL TO THE GROUND AND SHATTERED.....MILK AND GLASS MIXING, SO BEFORE I COULD EVEN SAY SOMETHING TO MY SON, HE’D ALREADY GRABBED ALL HIS SCHOOL SUPPLIES FROM THE COUNTER AND PUT THEM BACK IN THE CART…AND I HAD TO HUSTLE TO CATCH HIM, HE WAS WHEELING HIS WAY OVER TO ANOTHER CHECKOUT. THAT'S WHEN I LEARNED THE COST OF THIS SCHOOL SUPPLY SPREE.......THE BILL MAXED OUT AT 105-DOLLARS, NOT SUCH A BARGAIN. I WAS CERTAINLY APPAULED....HOW COULD WE SPEND SO MUCH?.....BUT I SOUGHT OUT OTHER OPINIONS, YOU SEE I HAD TO KNOW BECAUSE LEARNING ABOUT PRICES OTHERS PAID FOR SCHOOL SUPPLIES MIGHT GIVE ME A LITTLE DEFENSE LATER ON . I FOUND OUT THE TRUTH FROM SEVERAL FEMALE CO-WORKERS, ALL VETERANS OF THIS BACK-TO-SCHOOL SHOPPING EXPERIENCE. THEY REGAILED ME WITH STORIES OF HOW THEY SPENT FAR MORE FOR SUPPLIES THAN I DID ON THIS DAY. FELT LIKE A NEW MAN......I'D HAVE A DOZEN WOMEN ON MY SIDE....BUT AS USUAL, I ALSO FELT SLIGHTLY GUILTY FOR HOW I PINNED MY SON'S EARS BACK WITH MY NON STOP ASSAULT......"WE'RE SPENDING TOO MUCH.....TOO MANY PENCILS.....NOTEBOOKS.....STUFF..... SEEMS YOU ARE TRYING TO SUPPLY THE ENTIRE SOPHOMORE CLASS." I THEN CONCLUDED MY ARGUMENT, WITH A BIT OF A CONCESSIONARY POINT TO MY SON..... I RELUCTANTLY ADMITTED " YOU ARE RIGHT SON, THE DAYS OF ONE BOTTLE OF ELMER’S GLUE, A COUPLE OF NUMBER 2 PENCILS, A WOOD RULER AND A COUPLE OF NOTEBOOKS WAS COMMON WHEN I WAS IN SCHOOL WHEN DINOSAURS ROAMED THE EARTH...AND YES, THE TIMES HAVE CHANGED."
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A CORNSTALK LEAF POKED ME IN THE EAR ON OPENING NIGHT OF THE MCHENRY COUNTY FAIR AS I POSITIONED MYSELF ON THE STEPS OF THE GRANDSTAND STAGE, INTRODUCING THE 18 CANDIDATES FOR MCHENRY COUNTY QUEEN.
IN THEIR SETUP , A COUNTY FAIR CREW HAD THE IDEA OF DECORATING EACH OF THE SUPPORT POLES ON THE PAGEANT STAGE WITH CORNSTALKS. THIS THEY BELIEVED GAVE THE PAGEANT AN “OUT IN THE COUNTRY” OR “ON THE FARM” LOOK. HOLDING THE PAGEANT'S BLACK NOTEBOOK, I READ DETAILS ON THE PAGEANT CANDIDATES, LIFTING MY HEAD EVERY ONCE IN A WHILE FOR EYE CONTACT WITH THE CONTESTANTS... YET THESE CORNSTALK LEAVES KEPT POKING AWAY, HITTING ME IN THE HEAD, ON MY SHOULDER, IN MY EAR, ON MY NECK……ALMOST TO THE POINT, I WAS STARTING TO FEAR PEOPLE MIGHT SEE AN “OUT OF MY MIND” LOOK. I WANTED TO TURN TO MY SIDE AND RIP THESE CORNSTALKS FROM THE POLES OF THE WOODEN STRUCTURE HOLDING THE STAGE TOGETHER.
THIS IS THE “need to be told” STORY OF A PHOTO IN THE DAILY HERALD DEPICTING THE QUEEN PAGEANT STAGE, WHERE I’M ON THE FAR END WEARING A BLACK TUXEDO WITH A RED VEST FROM GIPPER FORMALWEAR, A LOCAL TUXEDO SHOP AND I’M FEELING THE INTENSE HEAT OF SUMMER, AND TRYING TO KEEP MY BALANCE ON THE STEPS, AND AVOID A GOOD POKING FROM THE CORNSTALKS. LIKELY HUNDREDS OF PEOPLE IN THE GRANDSTANDS SAW ME MOVE FAIRLY SMOOTHLY THROUGH THE PROGRAM…BUT HOW WEARING A TUX DECEIVES AND GETTING POKED IN THE EAR ANNOYS……ATTEMPTING JOKES HERE AND THERE, I STRAINED TO PRONOUNCE THE NAMES OF THE LADIES WITHOUT FLUBBING, AND HOPED NOT TO PASS OUT FROM THE HEAT AND LAND ON THE DIRT BELOW THE STAGE.
THESE OBSERVATIONS OF THE PAGEANT SHOULD NOT DIMINISH THE QUALITY OF THE WORK DONE BY THE PAGEANT COMMITTEE. THEY ARE AN EXCEPTIONAL GROUP. COORDINATING ALL THE ASPECTS OF THE PAGEANT IS AN INCREDIBLE TASK, I’M JUST A VERY SMALL PART OF IT ALL. YOU CAN SEE PORTIONS OF THE PAGEANT THROUGH www.mchenrycountyfair.com
HOME BEFORE DARK
Four butt buzzings set a new record for a concert. Neil Diamond beat Paul McCartney, the former Beatle earned three butt buzzings for his latest concert at the United Center . I know you don't have a clue what a "butt buzzing" is, so I'll clear the air and tell you. My teenage son, Brenden, calls me on my cell phone, which I've placed in my back pocket in my jeans. I've left my phone on vibrate and although I know we're not supposed to let anyone hear snippets of concert, I had to give my son a taste of Neil Diamond or Paul McCartney or any other great performer at the outstanding venues like United Center or Allstate Arena. Brenden would hear McCartney or Diamond for 20 or 30 seconds, then my son would hang up....and if he liked what he heard, he'd call me back and we'd do the same thing again, thus the three or four butt buzzings, but I'm not here to go into a drawn out discussion of my slightly askew method of music review, I'd like to give you my insight into the whole Neil Diamond experience of July 26, 2008 at the United Center.
My wife, Rita, bought 55-dollar tickets apiece for Neil Diamond. Fifty-five-dollars is the low end, one-hundred-18 dollars is the high end for a ticket, but she wasn’t a high end spender, though she has a tremendous appreciation for Mr. Diamond’s music. Add to the ticket price, the cost of parking and you, Neil Diamond "got to me, you brought me to my knees."
Usually just on time for most events, Rita and I realized we were early by an hour. We went to find our seats and saw hardly anyone inside, then I looked at one of our tickets and realized the 7 o’clock concert start time she had mentioned a few times was actually the time both the parking lot and United Center opened. Neil Diamond wouldn’t walk onto the stage until 8 o’clock. What do you do with a whole 60-minutes to kill and you don’t want to spend heavy sums of money on the food at the various booths at the United Center ? Since Rita was thirsty, she caved in, because the water fountains lacked water pressure. We first checked a half dozen snack areas and all the bottles of water cost 4-dollars apiece, so she gave one of the less bored snack operators enough money for a bottle of water. We found one of those high tables without chairs and leaned over reading the 20-dollar Neil Diamond program of color photos and profound thoughts of his. What was to happen in the next moment changed our whole experience of Neil Diamond’s concert, "Home Before Dark."
I noticed right away a man walking toward our table. He was dressed in a blue sporty shirt, conservative clothes, and I looked down at the program we’d bought so as not to stare at the guy, but he kept on coming, until he reached us and he began to talk. I was a bit nervous and heard a little of what he said first off. Something about he had two tickets that his daughter and son could not use because they could not come tonight to the concert. Some more words were said, but I was already stunned as was Rita, as she said later. He then said these are main floor seats and I had in the back of my mind, because I am a reporter, that something must be wrong with this scene, maybe he was looking for money or maybe the tickets were counterfeit, but I thrust a thank you at him, nonetheless…as my wife asked repeatedly after he had walked away, did you thank him? Yes, I said over and over. I finally put these new tickets in my hand and I noticed the price, hard not to notice. Each ticket cost 120-dollars. I suggested we go and find these main floor seats because we were on the third level and this may take awhile. Couldn’t actually find the way out of the third level without asking for assistance, and so happened there was an access door to the lower levels, and down we went, cement steps to the first level, and back to the entrance at Gate 3. We were told the seats were way on the other side of the United Center , so we were lucky to get permission to cross the main floor and end up on the other side where Gate 7 was located. We were in Section 4 and so Rita and I found our new seats about 20 rows in front of the stage. I turned around and looked back, cranked my head up and squinted to see those 55-dollar a ticket seats as far away from the stage as one could sit without being in another zip code.
Rita has seen Neil Diamond several times in concert as he’s her favorite performer..so perhaps this "pay it forward" kindness of the man in blue was providential. A year ago this week her step father passed away. Maybe the gift was somehow directed spiritually, I don’t really know, and probably can’t possibly tell for sure….but whatever directed this man to give us those tickets while thousands of other people converged on the United Center, we are very thankful. Truly this past Saturday, we got to sit very close to a pretty amazing man ….."Pretty amazing….pretty amazing…..You overcame my loss of hope and faith , Gave me a truth I could believe in, You led me to that higher place, Showed me that love, and truth, and hope, and grace, Were all I needed"….PRETTY AMAZING GRACE-by Neil Diamond.
WOODSTOCK FOOD PANTRY
Ever feel pangs of hunger? Your stomach’s making noise, saying “feed me.” Maybe you skipped a meal or are trying to diet and you are facing vocal rebellion. Here you are obviously choosing to diet, but some of us are not allowed the luxury of choosing our course. Hunger is not just in places you’ve seen on network television news, but people in your town, county and state are facing daily hunger and are turning to their food pantry for a meal. The food pantries receive great support from churches in the northwest suburbs and Fox Valley , but because our economy has hit us hard, many people normally giving to their food pantry of choice, are not as readily giving.
Family Alliance has faced an unending demand of food from their seniors attending programs in Woodstock . Carol Louise of Family Alliance says her counselors take seniors to the Woodstock Food Pantry, yet too many times she says, the pantry has not had enough protein and other food to meet this constant demand. This is a sign for Family Alliance. Louise says her counselors will collect food and protein for the Woodstock Food Pantry from August 13 through August 15th. She’ll use the neon sign out front of the building advertising for the public to bring food items over. Louise urges people to shop for protein; meat and fish. She believes that given a longer lead time for a food drive, people will stop by their supermarket and pick up fish and meat in foil packets for example, instead of looking at their own cabinet which may or may not have the type of food best able to help the needy.
Don’t forget these dates, August 13 through August 15, the Family Alliance Food Drive in Woodstock . Carol Louise hopes the next time her counselors take veterans and others to the food pantry, they’ll have a stockpile of food on the shelves. Remember you can help, whether it’s the Woodstock Food Pantry or another food pantry in the area. Stop the vocal rebellion and pangs of hunger by providing food supplies you would want your family to eat. Thank you from the Woodstock Family Alliance, Woodstock Food Pantry and Y 103.9.
SANDLOT BASEBALL
Joe said “Let’s get a game going.” I know my best friend did not mean anything other than a game of sandlot baseball at a park a couple blocks away from our homes. Joe and I lived in a north suburb of Chicago , where boys played unsupervised baseball or softball every summer. We did not have personal computers back then, or any of the other high tech stuff the kids play with now. We didn’t spend any time with video games; no such games existed to wile away our summers. If we weren’t at home watching an afternoon Cubs game on tv, then a bunch of guys gathered together to play ball and talk about school and girls. No coaches told us how to bat or where to play and we felt a freedom that would only exist in this short span of time; a few summers stretching from elementary school to high school.
I’m told we’re losing sandlot baseball as a pastime for boys. The structured sports, video games and fear of crime have taken away from a piece of Americana . Too bad this is another piece chipped away from kids, who will look back someday and see they spent way too much of their time on video games and never really got the chance to just be kids….running around….policing themselves…..playing games that demanded a bit of energy and the outdoors. I can’t tell how quickly the boys gathered once Joe got it in his head to “play ball.” But the kids came from every direction to our park, some with bats, others with balls, and everyone carried a mitt. We’d make up teams, agree on 9 innings, and have to hit the ball; no one would strike out. I liked this more than organized baseball that I played for several years and I liked this more than root beer floats and chocolate milk shakes.
Some of the guys I still talk to so many years later. One guy, Dave, became a financial analyst, another became a science writer, and another a lawyer for a giant utility. They were the guys I played in this little park where we had a water fountain built of brick and metal and a small playground where kids had to climb this funny looking elephant with a slide for a trunk. The park was surrounded with a fence so none of the balls would end up rolling in the street. Today, the park where we thought freely and lied in the grass waiting for our turn to bat or take the field, is just a place for swinging on a swing or practicing your set shot on half court, or for climbing the monkey bars. The field is gone….and sandlot ball is just a memory today….a memory I bet a lot of guys in their 40s, 50s and 60s don’t take lightly in their lives. Sandlot ball maybe gone from our summers, but I would give almost anything for one more at bat…..one more chance to lie on the ground squinting up at the sun just off the field and hear the guys around me talking about girls and their summer plans.
PESKY FOURTH
A little boy and his sister raced each other for fireflies in a small landscaped flower garden. “The boy just caught another,” I told my wife, Rita, sitting next to me on the front step at Park National Bank on Route 14 in Crystal Lake. This was the night of the fireworks show at Lippold Park, about three miles from the bank, but already two people were not very interested in a sky show, they were wrapped up in their own “natural” light show.
The kids weren’t free of adult supervision for more than it took the bank’s parking lot to fill with cars; about 30 minutes from the time the first car showed to the last in the lot. Then drivers started parking along the cornfield that abuts the bank and by the outdoor teller windows. I think the children’s mother grew concerned that heavy traffic in the small lot might get in the way of her kids talent for entomology, so she rushed over to warn them not to trample the yellow flowers. I could see they weren’t damaging the landscape, they were merely snatching fireflies, and putting those “lightning bugs” in their pockets. The light show these children provided seemed an apropos side show to the main event, the “Annual Fireworks Display.”
This year the fireworks switched from its extremely popular spot at Main Beach in Crystal Lake to Lippold Park in accordance with the Crystal Lake Gala at Lippold off of Route 176. Our nation’s Fourth of July celebration would give us the usual tingle, but a day later, on July 5 at the biggest park in Crystal Lake. Before Rita and I found ourselves parked at the bank, we planned on leaving our car at Crystal Lake South High School and boarding a shuttle bus to Lippold. The planners of the Independence celebration had this great idea of shuttling as many people as possible from either CL. South or McHenry County College or the Holiday Inn in CL to Lippold. Since we’re close to South, we thought the idea of parking the car there and taking the shuttle was great. However, my two sons, wife and I arrived after 7 in the evening; kind of a late start because we weren’t sure which blankets, pillows, flashlights, and drinks to bring. We walked to the back of this very long line on the sidewalk near the entrance to South, but strangely, we moved up, first by a step or two as some people in line left. They couldn’t wait any longer for the bus. That’s okay, I said because we’re moving up….and in a few minutes, we were close to the front of the line, which on the surface was ideal, but I had to face the possibility, we’d join those leaving if the bus didn’t arrive within the next 15-minutes, because we’d been there 20-minutes already. Finally, someone shouted, “the bus is here!!!!”….and we grabbed stuff we had set on the ground and we watched as this yellow district 47/155 school bus rolled past us to the very back of the line where the latest arriving had been there for no more than five minutes. I think the initial reaction was shock from those in line the longest. But in a moment, dozens of people from the front of the line with their chairs held tight stampeded…and I thought that type of reaction was only possible if the bus driver had shouted “I’ve got your economic stimulus check here.”
My sons made it onto the bus, Brenden yelled for Rita and I to get on…push if you have to….but get on, he implied. No, we were not pushing or panicking, just facing the reality of separation from our kids on one of the most important events of the year. The people like us, “failures to board”, got into our cars and drove off. On the way to Lippold, we found our journey blocked at the intersection of Routes 14 and 176, a Crystal Lake Police squad car stopped any traffic from using the road to enter Lippold. Traffic was already backed up more than on a Saturday in town. So we began our journey north on Route 14, seeing dozens of people parked at strip malls and other people walking along the busy Route 14, even people walking across a farmer’s fields to reach Lippold. We reached McHenry County College, another site for the shuttle, but we couldn’t find any SHUTTLE HERE sign. Didn’t realize the shuttle was for the other side of MCC….but then again, we did see people camped out in the MCC parking lot and talked to a few that hoped to catch a glimpse at least of the fireworks from this fairly great distance. They’d probably only see a small portion of the fireworks. We worked our way in the car to the back side of the college and then on Ridgefield Road and over into the parking lot of Park National Bank. The bank’s lot was fairly well lit, good for keeping police patrols with a clear picture of any trouble, but not so good for the fireworks challenged because the bugs were celebrating too; each bite on my arm or my wife’s leg, or the other guy nearby with the red, white and blue shirt. Brenden called from Lippold, “where are you dad?” I thought I’d tell him that maybe we’d ventured into Twilight Zone, but then, he couldn’t possibly know our fireworks fate or even understand the reference. So I said, “it is a bit buggy here, but the light show has my full attention.” I left it at that. The boy and his sister got a few more lightning bugs before they went home.
America’s Cardboard Cup Regatta
“I wish I were an Oscar Meyer wiener …..” Todd Collins of DeKalb sings the well-known jingle from his cardboard boat, floating on choppy waters of Crystal Lake. The 24th Annual America’s Cardboard Cup Regatta attracted Collins and his friends and their offbeat sense of style, deciding next year to build a cardboard salad bowl or a cardboard ice cream truck. I met Collins and dozens of other creative cardboard boat builders on the beach at Crystal Lake for the event that attracts hundreds of people a year and brings thousands of dollars to charity organizations in the northwest suburbs.
First of course, I had to work my way to the finish line, where over the years, I’ve interviewed the builders of a Star Wars boat, a whale, a truck, pirate ships, tanks, and anything and everything that could potentially float at least long enough for a spectacular sinking. They told me of the cold water and bragged of their unsinkable boat and how they knew they’d finish. Some of the Cup contestants wore unusual costumes, looked like pigs sometimes, or pirates, or just wore bathing suits and life jackets. They’d tell of buying dozens of rolls of duct tape, of working three weeks steady in their friend’s garage building the cardboard shape, taping it together, painting it, and lugging the finished boat to Main Beach for the regatta. With recorder and microphone, I positioned myself at the finish line, usually in front of the throng of people watching. The crew of the green Tank must have realized the cardboard had taken on water about half way to the finish and they lumbered, rowing as best they could, the four young guys pushing water away from the tank from their perched positions on the sides of the tank, and slowly but steadily, they ran out of water, reaching the shore, exhausted, but excited, only to try and pick up the extremely heavy tank. Instead, each tore at the tank like they were tearing lettuce for a salad until the tank was nothing more than wet cardboard. They disposed the sheets of cardboard in the already filling dumpster. The dumpster held secrets of cardboard building, but mostly secrets of unsuccessful cardboard design. Yet some of the successful designs lay next to the dumpster, that of the Weinermobile and kids seemed to take to it, by walking inside what now was a soggy hot dog shell. Only problem, looked like nails protruding from the sides of the dog. I stayed clear and eventually finished taping the participants with the unusual boats, ending with Mike Bowers, a local guy that couldn’t seem to catch his breath after finishing . His boat resembled an old railway car…that you have to push a bar up and down, over and over. This was his design, so he got stuck working it to death , almost.
America’s Cardboard Cup Regatta……..a slice of creativity for all to see at Main Beach in Crystal Lake.
Golf Cart Parade
I’m not so reluctant, thought I’d be, but on my visits to Del Webb, the active retirement community in Huntley, I’ve found the reason why I’m no longer concerned of my slide into seniorhood. I’ve discovered the GOLF CART, what a way to go!!!! On my visits to my parents’ home in Del Webb, I’ll occasionally find motoring along quietly on the main drag, a guy in a golf cart, driving somewhere. I’m usually driving in the other direction, otherwise, I’d follow him and see where he’s headed. This past weekend was a smorgasbord of golf carts, a parade up and down Del Webb Boulevard. I dropped off my sons, and wife, where my parents were sitting, in a sheltered area, the only shelter Del Webb has off the boulevard. There they sat with Grandma and Grandpa Cohen and waited for candy and the excitement of seeing dozens of fancy decorated golf carts. The threat of rain persisted, but didn’t scare anyone enough to hold an umbrella, except I had a big Del Webb umbrella and there were women, each with a babushka ready to protect their silverly hair from the rain. My kids, always anticipating a chocolate candy or a sucker, walked out in the middle medium and got closer to the action from the other side of the boulevard, packing the pockets of their shorts with tootsie rolls, until they almost couldn’t hold their pants up. The adults sat back watching the energy of the kids racing toward the sweet treats, though my dad, Sid Cohen, a young man in his 80s, had to position himself for a good look at the carts, waiving at some of his friends in their carts. He noticeably held back a wave as the Green Bay Packers golf cart wheeled by, but got excited over the clown cart or the musical cart. I just got into the thing and all of a sudden, the sky let loose of a thousand buckets of icy water….on our heads…….yet, I minimized the damage to my hair by popping open my giant umbrella, pushing it over my dad’s head…and then I looked down and he was looking down, and we saw what used to be a beautiful landscaped area now looking like mud and flowers….and he was reluctant to step over…or maybe he physically couldn’t because it was more of a jump than a step….but I encouraged him because this was the fastest way to get over to the only covering we had, and so dad brought his leg up, and pushed himself over the flowers and the mud and back onto the sidewalk. Though I regretted missing a portion of the golf cart parade, I felt a moment of bonding with dad, holding my umbrella over his head, keeping my 84 year old dad dry so he could use all the energy he had to push or jump over this hurdle to safety. In the few seconds this took, I wondered whether my kids would be in a position to have me in 30 years do something physical…… Before the golf cart parade started, the only thing I thought I’d learn was that seniors seem to have a lot of time on their hands to decorate their golf carts….but what I actually learned was when pushed….even the guys in their 80s can turn the clock back for a few moments and do something physical they’ve not done in 30 or 40 years and I learned this watching a golf cart parade.
A DAD IS FOREVER
Maybe because Father’s Day has arrived I internalized the day in my mind. Don’t dads think about this day? This is my day and their day. I’ve got two sons and they call me "dad" and I’m good with it because I am their dad, their father, their pop, and their old man. My older son calls me dad and I generally think he wants something from me, and it’s usually money, but could be that he wants to have his friends stay overnight at our house, or he’d like to remind me that he’s of driving age. My younger son calls me dad and I think it’s a conditioned reflex in addressing me. He’s heard it so often from his older brother that I can’t imagine he puts anything into it beyond just saying dad. Did I earn the honor of being their dad because I don’t believe a man should be this dad unless he has earned the designation…and what qualifies him to be dad? I’d say a dad is someone that is around them, answering their questions, spending time playing with them, helping them with homework, giving insight into dating or relationships or how to do something that’s important at the moment. Because I have boys, most of these things are geared toward them, but dads are just as important for their daughters. They learn a lot about guys through their dad…and that’s a great thing. Dad can show his daughter she deserves respect both mentally and physically. He can be there to help with homework, to make sure the boy she dates will get her home on time, to play ball with her, to give her jobs to do around the house and outside the house. I read that too many dads are not there for their kids, maybe the dads are too busy at work or the parents are divorced and the dad isn’t around, maybe the dad thinks it doesn’t matter how much time or energy he gives to his kids. But this does matter…..on Father’s Day, I have to look inward to what I’ve done to deserve to hear my kids say dad, can you come over here…I want to tell you something. I don’t pretend I’m perfect, I might say to them that I’m kind of busy and can this wait? Or I might ask them to tell me right away what they want. I know this attitude doesn’t lend itself to becoming popular, but I’m doing the best I can…and I know that over a period of time….I will have performed duties that I believe makes me feel that I should be called DAD…..and I’m grateful my kids seem to have the patience with me…whether I’m angry with them over something or whether I am not always fair. They seem to understand given all the things that are on my plate, that they are comfortable calling me dad….and I shall do all that’s possible to continue living up to what a dad should be….so someday as they are men themselves they can still call me dad…and it will fit forever.
LEGIONNAIRES' DISEASE
McHenry County Department of Health (MCDH) reports two individuals * one local, one from Michigan * have been diagnosed with Legionnaires' disease after staying at the Hampton Inn in McHenry, Illinois. Initial information would suggest the illness may be associated with using or sitting by a hot tub at this facility on the same day. Both were hospitalized; one has since been released. The Illinois Department of Public Health (IDPH), who licenses and inspects this facility's pool and hot tub, is leading the investigation and has since closed the pool and hot tub area to reduce the risk to patrons. The hotel is cooperating fully in this investigation.
Legionnaires' disease is caused by a type of bacteria commonly found in the environment and can thrive under certain conditions. People can get Legionnaires' by breathing in a mist or vapor (i.e. from a hot tub, hot water tanks, large plumbing systems) that has been contaminated with the bacteria; it is not spread person-to-person. McHenry County typically sees one or two cases of Legionnaires' disease every year.
Symptoms are similar to pneumonia and typically begin 2 to 14 days after exposure and include high fever, chills, cough, muscle aches and headaches. Chest x-rays are needed to confirm pneumonia; additional tests are needed to confirm the Legionella bacteria. Legionnaires' disease can be very serious and can cause death in 5%-30% of cases. Persons most at risk include those over age 65, smokers and those with chronic lung disease. Most cases can be treated successfully with antibiotics.
It has not been determined how many people stayed at the hotel and used the hot tub from May 9 * June 4. MCDH has activated its hotline number (815-334-2800) for residents to call Saturday and Sunday 9am-1pm; additional information will be provided on its website (www.mcdh.info).
WIDE WORLD OF SPORTS
The ‘agony of defeat’ stands alone as an immediately definable phrase, incomplete in its description, but clearly memorable for those of my age range. The full phrase includes “the thrill of victory and the agony of defeat.” If it weren’t for Jim McKay narrating this recognizable phrase every week on ABC’S “Wide World of Sports” and the video of a ski jumper tumbling down a ski hill, I could have sworn this was the agony of the feet. Jim McKay meant more to me than agony of the feet, he was The Sports Voice that I thought more than any other national broadcaster of the 1970s gave life to sports and more than anything, kept me riveted to the television set during the 1972 Munich Olympics. This was the Olympics where eleven Israeli athletes were killed by terrorists. McKay’s coverage of this singular horror was professionalism at its core. His ability to describe a situation and use of words were so substantial that I wished every single broadcaster could do the same. After watching him talk about all the Olympic sports, I wanted to go outside and do that same sport, whether it was the Decathlon or the high jump. Something he said about the competition just got the juices flowing and the executives in television recognized how he could add to the dramatics of an event to hold an audience. I write about Jim McKay because he’s passed away, 86 years of life for this man. He died on his farm in Monkton, Maryland, and I could almost hear an announcer say the man that brought us The Thrill of Victory and The Agony of Defeat was on his way to see the greatest of the Olympians who’ve been waiting for the greatest Olympic announcer of them all to watch them and describe their contests for all time in heaven. Spanning the Globe, as Jim McKay would say to bring you the Wide World of Sports, I’m Stew Cohen and I’ve been Spanning the Globe to bring you my Stew’s Page.
LIFE FROM THE GRANDSTAND
Family Day at a theme park, family day at a baseball game, family day at the race track? What are we trying to do, teach the kids to bet on horses? That was the question I put in my head after my wife said she won tickets to Family Day at Arlington International Racecourse for June 1st. Certainly I couldn’t wait to go and see horse racing and win thousands of dollars. I dreamed of the big pay day and had enough money in my pocket, 80-dollars to assure the possibility of becoming rich beyond my wife’s dreams. But what of the kids, my sons, one not yet a teenager and the other looking for money to buy his first car and pay his auto insurance, no wait, that’s what I’ve said he must be able to do to drive. He’d just like to buy a gently used car and have me pay for his gasoline and car insurance. I was told the racecourse had things for kids to do. What would that be, face painting, arts and crafts? The Daily Racing Guide, bought inside the Clubhouse for a couple of dollars promoted the Sunday event, Pepsi Family Day presented by the Daily Herald. The guide says “All this plus pony rides, face painters and a petting zoo.” So I was right, face painting was offered to the kids. I should have won a bet, would have been one of the few on this day for me. The kids took their friend, another pre-teen, whom they thought would probably bring some of his own money they might borrow if he won a race or two. Why didn’t we go to Arlington the following weekend, I could have brought home a beach towel from the racetrack or the next day, Father’s Day and be treated to what they described as an exciting day of live thoroughbred racing. Maybe the kids would spot me 100-dollars. But on this Family Day at the Racetrack, my wife and I would do our best to make this an educational experience for the kids. I’d have to do my best to avoid being a messy better; no swearing at losing money, no waving around dollars won at the track, no making it look like I was hooked on gambling. This was a clean gambling image I’d project no matter how much I won or lost….and I won early and then lost, and lost, and lost….and my oldest son wondered whether I had exhausted all the money I’d won…. If not, he wanted to ‘borrow’ 10-dollars he could use to gamble. This was indeed a time of great lesson learning, similar I think to the sex education lecture or the driving sober lesson I’ve waited patiently to explain to him. We of course had things to do on this day; eat popcorn, hotdogs, and ice cream and drink pop, and put all the costs on our Visa card tab, a tab that grew larger than any possible track winnings except maybe for the 50-to 1 shot in the 10th race on Bubba Boy. I lost the bet though. By the end of the day 6:30pm, a full day at the track, we were tired, and nearly poor except for my sons’ friend, he won 50-dollars. We missed out on the jockeys goggles. They gave out their goggles for a lucky kid waiting for this tremendously thrilling present and did this at the end of every race. My sons weren’t lucky with the goggles or the races, though they did enjoy the escalator and brief conversations with the track tellers, particularly one guy that seemed to like the boys. Other tellers resembled the closest thing to death standing I had seen in a while. They just weren’t excited, though I can imagine how one might be brain dead taking those 2-dollar bets over and over for hour after hour. Our experience on Family Day at the Racecourse was a sure bet, you know…a sure bet in which the boys learned they sure don’t like to part with their money.
Editor's note: Arlington International Racecourse is a beautiful facility from the landscaping to the quality of its people and architecture. Much of this piece is kind of tongue in cheek.
LIFE SPRINGS ETERNAL
Honoring and remembering our fallen soldiers takes precedence on this and every Memorial Day Holiday weekend. I’m aware of the significance, my dad fought in World War Two and my grandfather was in the cavalry in World War One, and my father-in-law was in the Korean War and Vietnam War. Although I pause to refl
