A Beautiful Soul

Baseball Hall of Fame

 I love this story.

I was sitting the in stands with Buck.  As a fly ball came close, a fan jumped up and caught it.  There was a kid nearby who looked longingly at the man and the ball in his hand.  The man smiled, put the ball in his pocket and sat down.

“What a jerk,” I said.  “It would have meant so much to the kid to have the ball.” Buck thought  for a moment, “Maybe the man has a kid at home.”  “Well, he’s still a jerk then for not bringing his kid to the game.”  “Maybe the kid is home sick and the ball will be even more special.”

Buck is Buck O”Neil.  The star of the Kansas City Monarchs of the Negro American League.  He’s 94 when he’s in the stands with the writer Joe Posnanski.

The book about Buck is The Soul of Baseball.  Buck is the perfect person for this.

Two Old Shows

 I recently became obsessed with the TV show Homeland.  It’s 10 years old, but because it’s about the middle east and the CIA, it could be today.  The writing and the acting are so superb, and the plot twists are so dense, I was reeled in.

The stories revolve around two CIA agents:  an obsessed woman, and a more reflective man. Things get interesting when a POW returns home from captivity.

The dark, dark truths revealed in Homeland are familiar ones.  People can do terrible deeds when they are blinded by beliefs we hold dear: The Noble Cause. Patriotism. Love.

The show gives us one character with whom to identify.  She is a teenager who must survive a suicide attempt, change her name, and leave her family in order to find the space to refuse. 

I quit watching Homeland after three seasons.  But I was intrigued enough to look for what others had said about the program.  One of the stars, Mandy Patinkin, quit acting after his years playing Saul.  He said it was “bad for my mental health.”

As an antidote,  my friends urged me to watch West Wing. I’m really enjoying it.

A Farewell Letter

 Ifennyi and Joan

Dear Acura:

You came into my life unexpectedly.  When I took my other Acura into the dealer for repairs, a good looking, fast talking young man convinced me that I should go for a trade-in.  It turned out to be a winning move.

You missed the most turbulent stops on that long and winding road that is my life. So yes, it’s been the two of us day by day.  You’re my dining room, my snack bar, my waiting place, my delivery system.  We listened to the news and the sports talk and, of course, the music.  Remember that time we pulled over to hear the end of Rhapsody in Blue?

Here’s some good news.  I’ve put you into the hands of Ifennyi Ifebueme.  He is a good man.  The kind of person that, when you know you are going to see him and spend a few minutes together, it makes you smile.  You already know him because he works in our garage.   

 Ifennyi is from Nigeria. I remember the day when he was bursting with joy.  “I am now an American Citizen!”, he beamed.  “And now I can plan to bring my wife and son to join me here!”

                                                                               

“Ifennyi,” I said today,  “Did you say you are going to ship the car to Africa?”  “Yes. I know now that I will never be able to bring my family here.   My future now is in Nigeria and I will return.”  He saw my look of shame and sadness. He put his arm around my shoulder.  “I still have big plans, I will be a farmer in Nigeria,” he smiled.  How could we be so stupid as to lose him, I thought.  

So, Ifennyi has big plans for you.  A continuation of your global existence.  From Japan and now on  to Africa.                         

When you leave me standing here, it will be a very fond farewell.  Ifennyi’s spirit will never be crushed.  You will be with him —as you were with me — for many more miles to come.                   

April 15

 

On Tax Day, Len and I would drive downtown to the main Post Office.  Our aim was to get there a few minutes before midnight as a symbolic gesture.  We weren't the only ones with that idea. We joined a stream of cars driving slowly and passing our tax returns to the police who were stationed along the route to receive the deliveries.  We honked our horns in solidarity with the Vietnam War protestors on the sidewalk because we all knew where are our tax dollars were going.

Now, I take advantage of the AARP program that provides free service to seniors for uncomplicated tax preparation.  Thank you to the friendly volunteers.  

Bernie Sanders is forcing a vote in the Senate today about arms shipments to Israel.  We're always going to protest on April 15, aren't we?

Happiness

 The founding fathers had it right.  They promised the pursuit of happiness.  The opportunity for happiness to be included in the human experience.   The achievement was always up to us. 

 Such revolutionary ideas deserve their weight. I agree with those who bristle at the notion that happiness is a choice. No.  Choice is about deciding what to wear or eat. Bringing happiness into life’s territory, so long assumed to be only occupied by pain, is a noble effort requiring insight, discipline and action. 

Obviously, one of the things that makes me happy is writing and sharing my thoughts.  I didn’t land here by accident.  Dear friends helped me see that  “I’m a good communicator and have ideas that can be useful.” Learning what makes us happy can often involve getting out of our own way. Stay tuned.

 

An Inside Job

 What is life’s purpose?  I’m not sure if lives have a purpose, at least not one determined by Karma, a God, or any other external power.  But I, and everyone I’ve talked with about this, seem to want to give our lives some meaning.  It satisfies a need to imagine a purpose.  And we want the purpose to be a noble one, not something mean, or trivial.  Ultimately, I think I decide my purpose.  It’s an inside job. 

I realize that I’m one of the fortunate ones to even have the time and energy to contemplate these things.  I’m not constantly searching for food, shelter or safety. Why I landed here in the lottery of circumstances is a question — and a mystery — for another day.  Stay tuned.

A Good Goodbye (I hope)

 

Selling my car has been easier than I thought.  I mean the actual selling of it.  I haven't actually turned over the keys, so that trauma has yet to occur.  Two guys in my garage made offers and a third is waiting in case the deal falls through.  Pretty popular for the oldster, I'd say. And well deserved.

 I broke the news to my donut lady this morning. We took a moment together as she completely understood.  I noticed the gal behind me in line waiting to be served and I apologized for keeping her waiting.  "That's ok," she said.  "I love it when people take time to be friendly."

Happy Brithday

 Sixty Seven year ago today I embarked upon what could still be thought of as an unusual method of childbirth.  I put my faith in a doctor who offered hypnosis and deep breathing instead of drugs.  My son Bill cooperated spectacularly!  His trip into this world took only a few hours from arrival at the hospital to resting with him in my arms.

So Happy Birthday Bill.  There’s so much to celebrate is this crooked trip with hopefully more to explore.

In The Family

  

Jim and Joan

My nephew Jim went to MIT and on to a career in the field of medical devices.  Now that my heart needs a little help, as does the heart of my favorites Bill and Phyllis, I asked Jim if he was literally going to have "a piece of my heart" as he does sentimentally.

"I've worked on a lot of stuff, not specific to heart, and have had a few inventions," he said.

That's close enough for me.  Bravo to Jim and his clever colleagues!

He Was Somebody

 

Here in Chicago, we were used to seeing Jesse Jackson these last years in his diminished state.  Still out and about, but yet…

So when he died last week, I was so glad to know he is still a national story. I liked spending time again with his presidential campaigns and his influence in the Democratic party and on the country.

But best of all was the clip of his time with the children reciting :  “I am somebody,” 

Thanks Jessie.  It’s tough — but important right now — to “Keep Hope Alive.”

Run for Something

 Kevin Ryan

This upcoming election presents a rare opportunity.  Because Jan Schakowsky and Dick Durbin have (finally) decided to leave, the ballot (finally) has some fresh faces.  I’m not talking about the ones who desire a better place on the chess board. The ones who know the game is to raise the money for TV and hope the spots are clever enough to do the job.  The ones who never knock on your door or show up at the corner coffeeshop or tavern. 

AOC and Mamdani made it all the way.  It’s so exciting when it happens.  And so rare.  I’m not expecting it to happen in Illinois, but I’m going to enjoy my vote.  If you haven't heard of Kevin Ryan for Senate, I urge you to take a look.  He’s for the “good things” we say we want and know we deserve and lament that we never seem to get.  I haven’t looked that closely into Kat Abughazaleh for Congress, but I applaud her willingness to “run for something” like Michelle Obama urged us all to do.

And these two did.

Bird on the Balcony

 My friend Naomi is a bird watcher. As we chatted about her interest, I remembered a time when I felt that a bird was watching me.  My condo in Oak Lawn had a balcony. At some point I began to notice a bird that just seemed to be there when I was sitting outside or when I looked out the window in the morning.

It wasn’t a fancy bird, the kind that probably captures Naomi’s eye.  Probably a sparrow. I began to feel “visited” by this little creature.  That, in turn, allowed me to fashion this story: The bird held the spirit of my father who had died when I was a child.  He had found me and come to keep me company.  

I’ve taken the opportunity to create these stories a few times. When an incident or oddity ignites a spark.  We all need something…

A Conversation

 

My friend Elaine said: "You should write more."  Which started me thinking of Eleanor Roosevelt.  She wrote a six day a week newspaper column -- MY DAY-- from 1935 until 1962!

As if it were a letter to a friend, she recounted her activities and expressed her perspective on current events, always encouraging activism, peace, and human rights.

I met her once.  It was when I was working for Adlai Stevenson's presidential campaign and she came to our offices.  As she shook my hand, I noticrd she was wearing bright red nail polish!  Unexpected indeed.

My friend Elaine says she enjoys having conversations with dead ones she knew.  Good idea. I'm going to ask Eleanor about her courage, her compassion and, if we get around to it, her nails.

The Winning Shot

 Maybe it’s because, in Chicago, we loved him as a Bull.  Maybe it’s because his father, an educator, was murdered in middle east conflict when he was so young.  Maybe it’s because he forged championship teams out of young white, black and foreign men.  And especially because he has stepped up to articulate what should be the soul of our country when other voices quiver in silence.  

That’s why I think it’s totally understandable why Steve Kerr should be a great candidate for President.  And could win!

BEAR DOWN!

 

I'm in the "Go for 2" crowd.  After the miracle catch, before the Rams could beathe, the Bears could have stormed the end zone and sealed the win.  It was the Bear's moment.  The Bear's identity.  

And, even if they were stopped, even if they didn't make it, they would have been true to the moment. We would have saluted them for the try.

What do you think?

Pay Attention to Him

 

I'm going to vote for Kevin Ryan in the March Primary.  I haven't had a chance to get behind one of those loveable longshots in I can't remember when.  You know, the ones that you can only hope pull an upset.  Kinda like the Bears in the fourth quarter?

I heard him interviewed twice on The Ben Joravsky Show podcast.  Ben calls him the "authentic radical." You can find him there if you're interested.

He's gone to every part of Illinois in his bus and talked and listened to everyone. Imagine if we could get the big money out of politics.  Candidates like Ryan is why we ache for that day.  

Answered!

 

Great news!  I just heard from Pam!  She had changed her phone number and her computer is not working.  So sorry about the false alarm, and NOT SORRY.

No Answer

 Pam Miller is gone.  Disappeared.  Phone disconnected.  Emails not answered. The last message was December 29.  We were making plans to meet in Greektown for lunch.  We wanted to remember our great friend Bonnie who died so suddenly just about a year ago.  Pam and I spent this last year grieving together.  Which makes Pam’s sudden exit so stark.

I don’t know Pam’s family or other friends.  I checked the obituaries in Kenosha where she lived, and even in Chicago where she used to live. Maybe it will be like one of those Dateline episodes and she will return with a story to tell.

In the meantime, here’s my little (hopefully premature) obit:  Pam loved trains.  I think one of the reasons she came down on the Metra so often was just for the ride.  She didn’t missTrivia Night at her local tavern.  And, she could tell you all about the great movies she watched on the Turner Classics channel. I met Pam (and Bonnie) several years ago at our Nation Magazine discussion group.  Lots of politics to discuss. 

So goodbye Pam with all my good wishes.  Another one of life’s mysteries.

Happy New Year

 Imagine all the People

Living Life in Peace

HAPPY NEW YEAR