Companions

 On TV this morning they were talking about how people are developing “relationships” with AI generated “companions.”  I don’t think this is particularly new.  Except for the AI part.  Remember Bill’s movie “Lars and the Real Girl”?  Or “Her” with Joaquin Phoenix? In LA, I heard about people putting a blowup doll in the front seat so they could ride in the car pool lane.

One step removed — but the same idea — is our attachment to characters we “love” in the books we read.  Some of my favorites are Olive Kitteridge, Ruth Galloway, and Harry Bosch. 

I guess AI could set it up so our “companion” would always respond in a way you enjoy.  Or, at least not cause any trouble.  I’m not ready to give in.

A Voice for Today

 As we struggle with today's black days and fear more ahead, there are voices I wish were here by my side.  When Mark mentioned Studs Terkel in our baseball class, I thought: “Yes.  That’s exactly who I’d love to hear from now.”

During the 1960’s, another time of great civic upheaval, Studs’ interviews on WFMT introduced us to rarely heard people and perspectives. All in his unique voice and style. 

The one person who still sticks with me is Virginia Durr. She was a civil rights activist from Alabama.  Just hearing her southern accent gave me hope. 

Here’s what I found about her today:

Her life spanned most of the twentieth century, and Virginia Durr had a front-row seat for the New Deal, McCarthyism, and the civil rights movement. She spent years working to abolish the poll tax and to end segregation, and her husband, Clifford, an attorney, was involved with a number of civil rights cases.

WFMT has a radio archive of Studs Terkel interviews.  I’ going to spend some time with him again.

Brief Encounter

  100.  That’s the mind-breaking number of points scored by Wilt Chamberlain in one basketball game in March, 1962.  Since there was no immediate media coverage of the game, some are claiming it never happened.  Just too impossible.  But Pablo Torres, the sportswriter, took the time to find and interview several fans who were there and swear the number is correct.

100.  That’s the number of times my friends have probably heard me tell about my encounter with Wilt.  So why not make it 101?  It was on a flight to New York.  I was wearing my silver fox fur jacket.  I admit I looked pretty spiffy.  As I walked down the aisle, a very large man wearing a purple suede jumpsuit gave me a big smile.  “Nice jacket”, he said.

During the flight, the attendant announced that several famous basketball players were on board and willing to sign autographs.  She mentioned Wilt Chamberlain.  I wasn’t a fan back then so the name meant little to me.  As I picked up my bag, Wilt came over to me and smiled again, “Nice jacket.”

It was only later that I learned of his basketball and other exploits.  He claimed “romance” with 20,000 women.  Ah Wilt, you never passed up an opportunity to score.

Safe Times

 I was well into middle age before I began writing.  My friend Marsha inspired me to hold out for a creative job.  I listened because I was Joan Chandler now.  It took more than a year on the temp trail before I finally was hired to write copy for the National Safety Council.

The salary was pitiful. But I had some divorce money and it was a start.  The universe smiled because eventually the Council hired consultants to evaluate salaries and I ended up with decent money.

I enjoyed writing and producing all kinds of safety stuff. I was good at it and I got a lot done. But I was not a team player. I was impatient and had no respect for the big bosses.  Others in the department felt the same.  It was “The Office” way before that show ever made it onto TV.

One year, when told we could decorate our cubicles for Christmas, we found a life-size Elvis and played “Blue Christmas” on an endless loop. Tiny victories add up.   

I'm still glad to  see Annie and Julia.  Gayle wrote a good book,  Lisa is one of my best friends. Myles and I are going out for breakfast today.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                  

March Madness

 March Madness is just around the corner.  I don’t follow college basketball very closely and I don’t think Northwestern will get in,  so I’ll just pick a team. 

It was different in 2005.  Illinois kept winning. By the time the whole family was in LA for Miro’s Bar Mitzvah, they were playing in the serious games.  As we left for the party, my son-in-law Shelby decided to stay behind to watch the fourth quarter.  “I’ll catch up with you later.”

We all clapped and laughed when Shelby, normally a very soft spoken man, came storming into the room:  “They won!  They won!  They were way down and came roaring back!”

Illinois went on to play in the championship game.  They lost to North Carolina and haven’t been back since.  But Shelby had that moment of pure joy.  That’s why we love the "madness" of being a fan.

Edythe

 Edythe was my other best teenage friend.  We usually got together at her house. Her mother was a beautiful woman with very long red hair who would give us a smile and drift off to another room to play the piano.  Edythe’s brother was a creep.  He was only a few years older, and he wore a suit!  He would never join us, but I knew he was outside the door listening.  I got the feeling that Edythe was the one who made sure the house ran smoothly.

My mother gossiped about Edythe’s father.  “He has an unsavory reputation.  He is a dentist who advertises and runs an assembly like practice.”  Edythe was her father’s gal.  She was poised for success.

I went off to college and Edythe went off to “finishing school.”  She “married well” and settled in Virginia.  I wasn’t completely surprised when years later she ran as the Democratic candidate for the Senate from Virginia.  She lost to John Warner (the one who was married to Elizabeth Taylor).

I needed to be around Edythe’s confidence and determination.  She never let me down. 

String of Pearls

 Kenny was my best friend during my high school years.  We both worked one college summer at Saks Fifth Avenue.  My mother was convinced that we would marry one day.  I knew nothing about homosexuality then, just that she was wrong about that.  Not Kenny.

I was in Chicago, married with small children when his name caught my eye.  He was Kenneth J. Lane, the jewelry designer.  The creator of Barbara Bush’s famous pearls. 

It was years before I saw him again. I was along on one of Len’s business trips to New York.  We went to visit Kenny at his town house.  His butler greeted us at the door.  Kenny was friendly but he was definitely Kenneth J. Lane.  

I kept track of him through the years, was so grateful that he didn’t die of Aids, but of natural causes when he was in his eighties.  It was a chance for my other high school buddy, Edythe, and I to reconnect .  We laughed and cried remembering Kenny ... and so many teenage times.