Damn the Torpedos...

Just like they're in the process of explaining the universe, physics figured it out.  And, of course, the Yankees figured it out.  If you change a few places on the bat, it's got a greater chance of getting the ball out of the park.  

OK physics.  I respect you.  But please don't mess with what we love about the game.  Beating out the bunt.  Nailing the runner at the plate with a great throw from center field.  Executing a double play or even a double steal.  And yes, the occasional home run.You get the idea.  The moments you never saw coming when you jump up from your seat in the bleachers or your couch at home. 

Yesterday, the Sox sent Martin Perez to the mound in his first time with the team.  He was pitching six no hit innings when they took him out. Analytics said his time was up.  Wouldn't it have been great if he had gone all the way?

Sequins, Corned Beef and Cabbage

 I went to lunch today where the restaurant featured corned beef and cabbage.  This memory emerged.

When I was between marriages, my mother decided that it was in our best interest to go together on a cruise.  She reached for the gold, selecting the most elegant ship in service: the SS France.  Thus, we spent two weeks among the very rich and sometimes famous.

Formal dinners featured champagne and caviar.  My newly acquired wardrobe included a full length sequin dress.  

Yes.  There was the very slight possibility that I might have fulfilled mother’s dreams by landing the very eligible doctor from Boston.  But, of course, I chose to hang around with two union bosses from the same town.  Probably married.  Probably using union dues.  Skipped the caviar and kept ordering corned beef and cabbage for dinner. They were so much fun.

In the Warehouse

 Len’s business included a warehouse.  It was over on Ravenswood.  One day a man came in and asked for a few minutes of his time.  He represented a foundation that was working to find jobs for men who had been in prison.  “We work very closely with our men.  They have been through our program and are trained. We believe they deserve a second chance.”

Len thought it over, talked to the other warehouse people, and ended up turning it down.

Some time later, Len discovered that his office manager, an engaging young woman, had been embezzling small sums from the business for years.  

I can’t think about one story without being reminded of the other.

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.

Discontinued

 I read an article about people searching online for favorite items no longer in stores.  Paying big money if they are lucky enough to find them.  I have suffered the loss of so many small pleasures through the scourge of “discontinued.”

I still think fondly of Burny Bros. cinnamon toast bread. There was a time when Burny Bros. Bakeries were everywhere in Chicagoland.  Heinemann’s too.  (Heinemann’s has a small afterlife at my local Jewel.)

Long gone from my neighborhood, I was delighted one day to see the familiar Burny Bros. sign as I was walking in the loop.  When I asked for a loaf of my favorite bread, the clerk said: “That’s been gone for years.  When the bakery was sold to those big shots, it was the one recipe that the family held on to.” 

So now, I imagine somewhere one of the brothers or a descendant is popping a loaf into the oven.  I can smell and taste it even now.

Harvard

 Between my sophomore and junior year of college I attended Harvard summer school.  On a whim my friend Edythe decided to go too.  We drove to Cambridge in her convertible with my brother’s friend Stan who was a Harvard student.

It was a great time.  On campus and in Cambridge you could always find a stimulating conversation. We went to Cape Cod on the weekends.  We drove down to Manhattan so I could reconnect with an old boyfriend.  And in between we managed to take some classes.

The class I remember the most wasn't for the content.  It was because the teaching instructor was Timothy Leary.  Of course that name meant nothing to me at the time.  His stamp on the 60’s and beyond lay ahead.

Immigrants

Joan and Elsa

 My friend Elaine had a story about her immigrant family published in the Chicago Sun Times.  It includes a great picture of the family who came to America generations ago.  I am fortunate to have a more immediate immigrant in my life.  Elsa Mora came here from Cuba when she married Bill.  She has enriched my life with her stories and her perspective.  

The men who work in my garage are from Mexico and Africa.  We've gotten to know each other over the years.  They make moments of my everyday life more interesting.

My cardiologist is from Romania.  He loved it when I told him about Bill making a movie in his home country.

Diversity, inclusion, immigration are some of the most positive notions I can imagine.  I appreciate the Sun Times helping to spread this word around right now. 

 

Twice Told

 Natalie is graduating from college and is going off to a new beginning.   My college graduation felt like an ending.  I loved college,  The classes and the friends.  Could anything going forward be as great?

I didn’t have any family members coming to the ceremony so I wasn’t planning to attend.  But one of the girls in the sorority was also alone so I went to keep her company.  Later we went to a few parties.

As I was leaning in to say goodbye to a friend, the car door swung suddenly against my nose.  It really hurt.  And it hurt driving all the way back to Detroit.  It was broken.

Yes, my graduation was a breakup.  All the way.

Now I am back at Northwestern taking classes for oldsters.  Some of the same buildings are there, plus lots of new ones.  The sorority house is long gone, but my college roommate (who remains a best friend) lives on the same street where all of us gals once lived together.

Sometimes broken things come back together again…just in a different way.

200 Hundred Years

 1976.  The Bicentennial Year.  On July 4th Kathy and Jerry hosted a fabulous party.   The invitation said:  Do Something You Would Do Only Once Every 200 Years.

Phyllis played the kazoo.  Gertrude gave a rousing political speech.  Annette unleashed her psychic powers as a fortune teller.  She foretold Mitzi’s husband’s early death, but, of course, didn't tell (except to me.)

That fall Len and I dropped Bill off at college in Connecticut and drove up the coast towards Boston.  I became obsessed with taking a detour to see Plymouth Rock.  Having done no research, I was convinced it was a promontory easily spied by the Mayflower.

The Rock was a large stone displayed in an enclosure with greek columns.  Young people wore pilgrim costumes and sold trinkets.

Boston’s celebration was much more dignified and stuck to the familiar stories. I was grateful to be in the town where it happened.

Cinnamon Forever

 

Do you remember the old Ann Sathers on Belmont?  When it was a little storefront?  When Ann, who was a tall, scandinavian looking woman, would greet us at the door.? The waitresses were older ladies who looked like they could be Ann’s sisters.  One big family.

Bill loved the chicken.  We all loved the pies.  Everything was delicious.  Jay’s mother ate there everyday with her boss.

When Ann died the new owners closed the small space and took over the funeral parlor next door.  It seemed creepy, but that’s only us old-timers speaking.

Ann would have been so ashamed of this: during the pandemic, the politician who owns the restaurant was caught secretly serving his buddies.  They called it the “Cinnamon Roll Scandal.”

The Ann Sathers on Belmont is still there and there’s another one near me on Granville and Broadway.  I had a “notorious” cinnamon roll just the other day.

San Francisco

Melvin Belli

 Natalie is going to live in San Francisco after she graduates in June.  Here's a San Francisco story I remember well.

Jay and I went to Los Angeles for a Trial Lawyers convention.  At the opening cocktail party someone came up to me and asked: “Would you like to meet Melvin Belli?”  I didn’t know who Melvin Belli was but I said “sure.”

When Jay and his partner Joe Cohen saw who I was with, they came right over.  They certainly knew of “The King of Torts.”  Belli had a long list of celebrity clients.  And he took his place in American history by defending Jack Ruby after he shot Lee Harvey Oswald.

Belli practiced in San Francisco.  He was top dog in that town.  “You have to come up after the Convention.  I’ll show you a great time.”  And so a group of us drove up the Coast.  Belli came through for us splendidly.  

One young attorney who worked for Belli was particularly friendly and made sure we were treated royally wherever we went. Years later I noticed his name in the headlines.  He was with Jayne Mansfield when they both died in a fatal car crash.

Tears of a Fan

 Jerry Reinsdorf is so bad for Chicago he should be run out of town.  I’ll hoist the first pitchfork if you’ll join me.   The owner of the White Sox and Bulls has robbed our town of our joy.  The joy of looking forward to a new season (White Sox) or coming to the close of an exciting regular season (Bulls).  

The reason is simple: Reinsdorf won’t spend the money to field decent teams. So Sell.  You came here, you made tons of profit, take it and leave.   Okay, I understand that today’s crop of billionaires may not be ideal owners either. But I’ll settle for a few years of winning before I turn on them.

I’m starting my baseball class again in March.  We’re reading a collection of stories by the great Roger Angell.  I know I’ll love the book and the discussion, but I would so like to be able to add an exciting trip to the park.

Can-America?

 Trump is threatening to invade Canada and declare it as the “51st State.”  So, here’s an idea:  how about California, Oregon, and Washington declare that they are now Canadian Provinces.  Maybe Maine and Vermont too.

Here are some very good reasons for the move.  Government funded universal health care.  Abortion rights.  Strict gun laws.  Free education.

OK, you say.  That looks good.  But, we don’t want all that British stuff all over again.  So maybe we can strike a deal.  We’ll get the benefits of an enlightened Canadian government and we’ll acknowledge Prince Harry.  Because he already lives in California!

(Worse downside:  hockey will never replace football.)