My Electric Date

 

My friend Craig had been waiting for his Tesla for a long time.  So long, that the "locked in" price he had negotiated with the dealer had gone up on the street by about $10,000.  "Are you tempted to just take your profit and sell it?", I asked him last summer.  He smiled the smile of a satisfied man.  "We'll probably keep it."

Today was my first ride.  "Did you have to pledge allegiance to Elon Musk to take possession?",  I said as I climbed into the black beauty. Craig is used to me being snarky.  Snarky turned into astonishment as Craig pointed out all of the features.

The climactic moment came when he turned onto good old Lake Shore Drive and went into the self-driving mode.  The Tesla didn't notice the homeless tent in the park but it did notice traffic and adjusted accordingly. I climbed out of my horse and buggy mind into the mysterious future. Thanks, Craig.

Wow.

Who Do We Love?

 

Hershel Walker and Brett Favre Were Football Gods.  It Should Have Ended There.  When I saw this article in the Washington Post I nodded my head in agreement and then I started to think.

Athletic stars have never shared more of the spotlight than they do today.  We are a culture craving endless distraction and the media moguls know how to extract every available profit from our infinite goodwill.

Walker and Favre have stepped deep into it.  They deserve whatever fate awaits.  But why shouldn't a athletic star enter politics?  Or any other endeavor?  We can look at them anew. If fame gives you a leg up,  I trust that as much or more than I trust a billion dollars.  Don't you?

End of Days?

 

I went to my favorite park today to soak up the gorgeous weather.  The sign on the fence said:  WARNING:  WATCH OUT FOR AGGRESSIVE BLACKBIRDS.  What?  Now I have to add this to my list? Arthritis, inflation, global warming, Republicans?  I know my days are numbered but this is too much!

P.S.  I didn't see any of the doomsday messengers.  Just the little sparrows that populate our lives without worry.

A Long Time Leftie Loses Her Mind

 

I can't help it.  Whenever I see Merrick Garland, I see the ghost of J. Edgar Hoover.  When I see those earnest FBI agents in their black suits and tiny ties explaining it all on TV, I think of those same agents roaming the Chicago Stadium, snapping our pictures as we listened to Martin Luther King.

Trump walked away with nuclear secrets.  Just like the Rosenbergs, right?  

Lori Lightfoot is Mayor.  I wonder what Fred Hampton could have become.

A Mystery Emerges

 

Are you as bowled over as I am about Liz Cheney?  Just the name Cheney still sends shivers down my spine.  And now, even as the shivers remain, I have to add the name Liz and come up with a new reaction.

My friends say that after the hearings she will go back to all of her policies that we despise.  We laugh about whether the few Democrats in Wyoming should cross over to support her.

I just read a thoughtful article by Monica Hesse about the Liz phenomenon.  She puts it all together beautifully.  I am more inclined to add it to the pile of "mysteries of life" which  keep me humble.  Thank goodness they keep me still curious and engaged.

I'm Not Sorry

 

Today is the 42nd anniversary of the Borg/McEnroe tiebreaker.  Some say it was the best conclusion ever to a tennis match.  The lead went back in forth in heart stopping closeness. Okay, I’ll tell you.  Borge won 18-16. I watched every minute and I’m not sorry.

Not sorry?  Why would I say that?  I was a house guest at friends’ beachfront cabin in Michigan.  I was called politely, and then, in rising levels of impatience, for dinner.  Surely it was going to conclude in a minute.  No.  Both players showed their endless skill and determination. My guest status was sealed.  

Borge played only one slam after that and retired very young.  McEnroe still laments his decision.

I’m watching Wimbledon  now.  They’ve changed the rules so tiebreakers have to end at 10 points.  If my hosts were still part of my life, I would not have the opportunity to be so rude.

Hot Dogs Forever

 

Sammie's Hot Dog Stand was on the corner of Cornelia and Broadway, just a few steps from my apartment.  It was just a cart on the sidewalk, but Sammie had all of the Chicago-Style fixins'.  I was a simple mustard and onions girl.  Years later, I learned that Sammie had been able to retire and move to Florida.  The American Dream.

Doug Sohn, the gourmet hot dog king, was able to penetrate Chicago-Style tradition.  He is still missed by his devoted followers.

For my birthday, my friend Myles promised me a jumbo kosher hot dog fired up on his grill.  Delicious!

And, of course, there is nothing more satisfying than a hot dog at the ballpark while watching a White Sox winner!

Happy 4th everyone.