Not the one I want, but the one I have

Thursday night, President Donald Trump retaliated against Syrian atrocities with an airstrike aimed at their bases.

Hours earlier, it's what Hillary Clinton said she would do, had she won the election. Years ago, it's what then Secretary of State John Kerry wanted to do, and he has always tried to avert conflict. So I'm left to believe it was the correct decision.

My news feed is filled with opinions otherwise, most of them feverish with conspiracy and dark motives. Normally I find such rantings rather easy to dismiss, and I dismiss them this time, too. But here's the thing ...

This time, I get it.

No, I never believed Hillary Clinton had Parkinson's. Yes, I believe Sandy Hook happened. Sorry, but Elvis really is dead. I believe almost all popular conspiracy theories are crap.

But I wish I could reject this one on faith, rather than commonsense and life experience.

I wish I could say I believe my President.

But he's the Birther in Chief who promised to produce "the truth" about Barack Obama's birth certificate. He's the inaugurated paranoid who insists Obama had him wiretapped. He's the Islamophobe who swears he saw tape of thousands of Muslims cheering when The Towers fell on 9/11. He's the cynic who knows his base is dumb enough to embrace an Enquirer story about Ted Cruz' father and Lee Harvey Oswald.

Isn't this why, when we were kids, our moms used to emphasize that they would forgive us our naughtiness as long as we didn't lie about it?

A Hole In Juan

The Friday 56

Rules:
*Grab a book, any book.
*Turn to page 56 or 56% in your eReader
(If you have to improvise, that's ok.)
*Find any sentence, (or few, just don't spoil it)
*Post it.

From A Hole in Juan, page 56. English teacher Amanda Pepper, worried about the rumor that her senior class somehow got an advance copy of their exams. Could it be true? Or is it just another of the Halloween pranks that go on at high school every year at this time ...

Those tests had been locked in my drawer since Friday. I went back to my desk and tried the center drawer. Still locked. 

 

The first of many

My valiant World Champion Chicago Cubs won their first game Tuesday night. 2-1 against a very good Cardinals team, and at Busch Stadium.

Arrieta was dominant. Almora, Jr. made an outstanding catch up against the wall. YEA!

Baseball has started again, and I'm happy. But you know, I'm almost afraid to hope for a repeat. We had last year. It was thrilling. It was beautiful. It was magic. It feels so greedy to dream for another World Series Championship.

Staying focused

FOCUS

verb
to concentrate: to focus one's thoughts

I want to end 2017 by being able to point to concrete achievements. To do that, I must focus. 

I love the baked spaghetti pie at a local restaurant. I really, really love it. It's gooey. It's yummy. If I could, I'd marry it.

Today, after I voted, I could have just walked up the street and rewarded myself with that fantastic spaghetti pie. But I didn't. I came home and had a hot dog and salad, all with ingredients found in my refrigerator.

I had time. I had cash in my wallet. But I kept going because I kept my focus. After all, I just voted to increase my own property taxes. If that referendum passes, it's another $30/month that I have to find somewhere in my already weary budget.

Tempted

I have spent all my adult life in this neighborhood, but I didn't become a homeowner until I was nearly 45 years old. When I rented, I always voted "yes" on referendums because 1) I wasn't being assessed the resulting tax increase, my landlord was* and 2) schools, libraries and parks benefit us all.

I never have been able to stand those people who vote "no" because they don't have kids, or because their kids are grown. Having a family-friendly community with safe facilities raises everyone's property values. And then there's the moral imperative. Children are everyone's responsibility. It does take a village to raise a child.

And yet today, I was tempted to become one of those people. There's a local election today, and a rather expensive referendum is on the ballot. I'm taking today off work because I'm collecting estimates from two contractors and will soon learn how very much it's going to cost to repair my living room wall.

My condo association fees have gone up. My county property taxes have gone up. I need a new mattress and box spring. I have to take my Mac in to the repair shop but I wish I could replace it instead. My little TVs are both (gulp) 17 years old and nowhere near up to date with new technology.

Unless you're very involved in local politics, you may not even know we're voting today. In elections like this, one vote matters a great deal.

I'm going to do the right thing. I refuse to be one of those people. I'm going to vote "yes."

But I admit it's not as easy as I always thought it was.

*In my community, there's a ceiling on rent increases. No matter how many spending bills pass, my landlord could never raise my rent more than 5%.

I'm gonna cheer, and boo, and raise a hullabaloo

Ok, so the Cubs are opening the season on the road. At night. In St. Louis.

Details, details.

This corny, stupid song is played before every home game at Wrigley Field and on the air before every Cubs radio telecast. And it's running through my mind as I watch MY WORLD CHAMPION CHICAGO CUBS defend their title on this first game of the season.

Enjoy the view of The Friendly Confines of Wrigley Field.

Color me sad

Thursday night, as I walked home from the train station in the twilight, I thought I saw the flashing lights of an ambulance in front of my building. As I came closer, I wondered if maybe it wasn't just a repair truck of some sort. By the time I got home, it was just a big dark shape -- no flashing lights -- pulling away and turning the corner. I didn't think of it again.

Until Friday morning, when I found Pervy Walt's newspaper in the vestibule beside mine. He usually picks his up at dawn. It was still there Friday night when I got home. I put it outside his front door. I did the same with Saturday's paper. And Sunday's.

Clearly it was an ambulance, taking Walt away ... again. On New Year's Day, the police knocked down his door to find him in the bathtub, unable to move. He was hospitalized for days. Then on March 3, he fell down and alerted the police through Life Alert. They cut the lock off his door to get to him, and he was hospitalized again for days. On Thursday, he must have been able to let the paramedics in himself because his door wasn't damaged this time. Also, there were no emergency lights or sirens on the ambulance as it took him away.

The man was born in 1927, so if he isn't 90 yet, he will be soon. He has serious health problems, and it seems is being taken to the hospital on a monthly basis.

I hate that he thinks of me the way he does. It's creepy and it makes it hard for me to relax in my own home.

But I get no pleasure out of being in the cheap seats to watch his slow demise.

Sunday Stealing

Sunday Stealing: The Cannon Fodder Questions
 
1. Is there someone you'd like to be kissing right now? Yes.

2. When you're being extremely quiet, what does it mean? I'm busy.

3. What are you listening to right now? Meet the Press

4. Are you a big fan of thunderstorms? No. I don't fear them, either. I just take them as they come.

5. Do you believe in perfect? I believe in Kris Bryant, and Sports Illustrated believes he's perfect.

SI asks: "How Perfect is Kris Bryant?"

 
6. Are you a jealous person? Yes.

7. What was the first thing you thought this morning? "Wow, I slept really late."

8. What do you think about when you are falling asleep? "Doze off, Gal. Drift away."

9. Are you satisfied with what you have in life? Yes, but I still want more.

10. Do people ever think that you're either older or younger than you actually are? I gratefully still pass for younger.

11. Do you think men truly understand women? No.

12. How about women understanding men? No.

13. Did anybody ever call you handsome or beautiful? Cute, but not beautiful.

14. What is one fact about the last person that called you? He's thrilled because his next door neighbor is moving away. They have been involved in an ugly battle over the tree in my friend's backyard.

15. Other than your current one, tell us about the longest relationship you have had either a romance or a particular good friend. I've loved this man since I saw him on The Ed Sullivan Show 53 years ago. I love him still.

A jam-packed Saturday

So my day started with a trip to the UPS Store. I needed to get a form notarized, which kind of annoyed me because it seems unnecessary. Cook County requires me to submit a form stating my Property Identification Number (which they gave me), how long I've lived here (which they already know), and my 2015 income before I can get a "Long Time Homeowners Exemption," aka a break on my escalating property taxes. My guess is that they believe if they make us jump through hoops, we won't bother and they won't have to grant the exemption. I may be able to save $250 or more, so I went through the hassle.

Then I got my hair cut and colored. My stylist is so funny. I've known him almost my whole life and can attest that he is, indeed, racist and anti-Semitic. He doesn't believe he is. (Example: He thinks that because he hugs his mailman and tips him big every Christmas, he now has "a black friend." I try not to roll my eyes.) Anyway, he spent most of the cut complaining about his 26-year-old daughter who, briefly, moved back home and busted him on his language and attitude constantly. I tried to hide my amusement. After all, he had scissors in his hand.

Then I went to my classic movie group. Will, our moderator, is enchanted by Barbara Stanwyck. (So much so that he continually ignores the brilliance of my girl, The Great Kate Hepburn, but never mind.) Last night we saw a Stanwyck screwball comedy, The Mad Miss Manton. It was fine because I'm more than a little in love with Henry Fonda. He was just the cutest mix of honorable and adorable in this movie. (Swoon.)

The night ended with tapas. Joanna and I caught up over stuffed mushroom caps, puffed pastry filled with sirloin, and baked apple with goat cheese. All good. No booze, though they have a full and impressive bar. The house band? Well, I could have done without the mariachi version of "I Just Called to Say I Love You."

Joanna is such an interesting woman. So stylish, so talented, and so very flawed. I find her flaws endearing because they keep me from being intimidated by the style and talent. It felt very good, very comfortable, to reinforce my fledgling bond with her. And I think it's important to make a friend somewhere other than work. My career is coming to an end, and it's good hang out with people who don't necessarily define me by my work.

I got home at 1:00. I was exhausted. I remember when 1:00 was the shank of the evening.

Saturday 9

THE TOO FAT POLKA

1) Have you ever danced the polka? In grade school phys ed, we square danced and polka'd. Since the town I grew up in was filled with people of Polish and Czech descent, the polka was way more relevant than the square dance. I've seen people polka at weddings. I've only ever seen the Virginia Reel in Gone with the Wind.

2) The centerpiece of a traditional Polish polka band is the accordion. The accordion is a substantial instrument. Have you ever tried to play it? I'm not aware of ever having been in the same room as an accordion.

 
3) The plump lady of this song cannot fit into the singer's car. How many passengers does your car comfortably seat? 34. (It's a car on the Green Line train.)

4) Would you like to lose a few pounds? Yes. Many more than a few, in fact.

5) In the long ago 1940s, this song was considered amusing. Do you think it's still funny today? No. That oozingly sincere chuckle creeps me out.

6) Arthur Godfrey, who recorded this song, was a popular radio and TV host from the 1930s to the 1970s. Before this week's Saturday 9, had you ever heard of him? I've read about him as a pioneer in radio and early TV.

7) One of his more popular radio shows was Talent Scouts. A 1940s-50s version of American Idol, this show gave previously unknown singers their first national exposure. Godfrey could point with pride to having helped discover Tony Bennett and Patsy Cline, but he made a mistake by rejecting Elvis Presley. Tell us about something you'd do differently if you could get a "do over." In the summer of 2005, I had the opportunity to jump to another, smaller advertising agency. I didn't take it. I thought that if I stayed with the bigger company, I'd receive bigger, regularly scheduled raises. HA! The bigger places were hit harder by the 2008 Recession than the smaller, more nimble shops. My paycheck very likely would be bigger if I'd made the move.

 
8) In 1953, Godfrey made news by having one of the nation's very first hip replacements. Have you ever been/would you be part of a clinical trial, either for a new drug or a new medical procedure? I suppose if I had a disease with a dire prognosis, I'd seriously consider it.

 

9) RANDOM QUESTION: You and a friend are shopping. She tries on an expensive sweater and enthusiastically asks what you think. You think it looks awful. Do you tell her the truth? I'd try to come up with a softer way of saying it looks bad. You know, like, "Do you really think the sleeves hit you right?" or "Maybe it's the light, but I'm not sure about that color ..."

We've been here before, and it's not funny

This morning on the el, I was sandwiched tight between two disparate people. On my left was a working mom, in boots that looked butter soft and a scarf that probably cost as much as my coat. First she used her phone to issue after-school orders for her kids' daycare provider, then she turned her attention to the Politico website. I could see a picture of Gen. Michael Flynn looking very angry.

The man on my right was decidedly blue collar. His dark jacket was spotted by what looked like oil stains. His boots looked as big and heavy as Herman Munster's. He was wearing a Blackhawks cap. He was reading a story on his phone, too. And it was accompanied by a photo of Gen. Michael Flynn.

Bad news, Mr. President. People understand this story, and it's resonating.  Espionage and Russia have cut through the noise of our individual lives and captured our collective attention more than Hillary's email server ever did. This is not going away.

My mind went back to the summer of 73. I was riding my bike to my friend Judy's house. As I pedaled up the street, I heard the Watergate hearings live, drifting out through the open screen doors. The neighborhood grownups -- my parents' friends and my friends' parents -- were in a way united by Watergate and more interested in the hearings than they'd been in anything else I could recall.

Yes, the assassinations of the 1960s left a lasting impact on Americans of all ages. But those were sudden tsunamis. Watergate was different, it was a storm that grew slowly, steadily stronger until the winds blew the Nixon White House away.

I feel those winds starting to blow again.

I was never a supporter of Donald Trump's. In fact, I still cannot really believe that he is President. But I get no pleasure from this. I don't enjoy the sense of deja tragedy that is sweeping us all up.

It's familiar, but it's not comfortable. And I wish I wasn't so sure of how this long, painful saga is going to end.

Darling, After All

I wasted too many years with a man who was not good to or for me. He was manipulative and controlling and he could be cruel. I am glad and grateful that I finally found the strength and self-reliance to leave him.

This was decades ago. Ancient history. Over. Done. Page turned. Chapter closed.

Which is why I was shocked by how I reacted when this oldie unexpectedly sailed through my headphones.

"Darling, after all, I will be the one to hold you in my arms ..."

My mind flashed back to a moment -- his head resting against my bare breast, me stroking his hair as he slept. Then another moment -- us slow dancing to this song in the living room, my cheek pressed against his yellow shirt.

I loved him.

I don't like to remember that part. It complicates it. It's like paper clips. When I think of him, I want one emotion -- relief. When I pick up a paper clip, I want one paper clip.

Occasionally the paper clips are magnetized and I reach for one but get two. Occasionally when I think of him I get two emotions -- relief mixed with regret.

But hearing Al Jarreau, it's like I reached for one paper clip and got a whole chain. Regret, relief, joy and love.

It's too many paper clips. It's too much. I don't want this.

WWW.WEDNESDAY

To participate, and to see how others responded, click here. 

1. What are you currently reading? A Hole in Juan, by Gillian Roberts. Since this is one in the Amanda Pepper mystery series, much of the action takes place in a Philadelphia college prep school. This time our heroine, English teacher Amanda, is trying to wrangle students excited about the Halloween season and, specifically, a "Mischief Night" dance. She senses something in the air, beyond just high school hijinks, and she's right. The science teacher, Juan Reyes, has become the target of sophisticated threats.

A cozy series like this only succeeds if you like the star sleuth, and Amanda is an easy to like Everywoman. She's funny but not snarky. She's smart but not brilliant. She cares about her students, but she's not sanctimonious. She loves her new husband (finally they're married!) and she's in tune with her cat, Macavity. I'm not that far into the book, but I'm comfortable and happy with the company already.

2. What did you recently finish reading? Chaos by Patricia Cornwell. I have to admit I didn't so much finish this book as abandon it. What a frustrating affair this was!

It's the latest in Cornwell's successful Scarpetta series. Dr. Kay Scarpetta is a character I like and admire. She's brilliant and discerning but also flawed. I love Kay Scarpetta's regard for her patients, the victims of crime, and her passion for justice. Cornwell is a wonderful writer. She not only created an admirable heroine, she can set the scene and make you feel the escalating tension/darkness/danger like few other authors can.

But this plot is a freaking mess. Too many characters, too many coincidences, too much unreasonable behavior, too many unbelievable plot twists. I won't say anymore for fear of being a spoiler, but I did actually get angry at Cornwell for squandering her gifts and the good will Kay has earned over the years.

 
3.  What will you read next? I don't know. Maybe a biography?

Bound by the accordion

My younger nephew has always idolized his cousin, my older nephew. As their observant aunt, this amuses me, as they could not be more different.

My older nephew is in the Navy, where he is enjoying success after being something of a fuck up. Bright but scattered, with more than a touch of ADD, he didn't do well in high school and failed at one attempt at college. He was living in his mom's house, subsisting at a minimum wage job as a clerk at a tuxedo shop, when he enlisted. Now he has a career, and since success can beget success, he has a solid relationship with a woman who appears to be very stable and nice, and a network of supportive friends (mostly military).

He's also noisy, suffers from poor impulse control, and loves making offensive jokes because he believes it's his duty in life to "stir the pot." He thinks Donald Trump is great.*

My younger nephew is a smart but achingly sensitive high school junior. He marches to his own drummer -- listening to the Beatles almost exclusively and devouring political non-fiction. Three books I've given him are Making of a President 1968,  Doris Kearns Goodwin's Team of Rivals, and Bernie Sanders' Our Revolution. I know the first two well enough to quiz him, so yes, he's read them. (While his friends read illustrated novels about The Avengers and The Justice League.)

Last summer, we happened upon a Black Lives Matter march in Grant Park and he truly wanted to join them.

The advent of Trump and the prevalence of social media has put a strain on their relationship. Not so the older one has noticed, though. He's not big on nuance. But the younger one has stopped following his cousin because he's been so turned off by the in-your-face racist/sexist/homophobic and anti-Bernie memes. "I want to still love him," the younger said. It broke my heart.

Last weekend, the two cousins saw one another for a couple hours. I saw the older one the next day (post below). He said he couldn't believe how "tall and quiet that kid is!"

That struck me as slightly ominous. My younger nephew is never quiet with me. Was he overwhelmed by his older cousin's boisterousness? Was he feeling awkward ... or disappointed? I'm not going to see the younger one for a month or so. But I assumed there might be a breach and I did what I could to heal it.

Both cousins enjoy Springfield, Illinois, and walking where Abe walked. So I told the older about my trip down there with the younger.

After paying our respects to Mr. Lincoln, we saw this ostentatious grave, which is within clear view of Lincoln's Tomb.

Next to Mr. Lincoln himself, Roy Bertelli (aka "Mr. Accordion") has the biggest resting place in the cemetery. And it's big, and it's stupid. One man saved the Union, one man loved the accordion. I mean, it's funny.

We all agree on that.

But my younger nephew didn't leave it at that. He researched Roy Bertelli. Then, when he was assigned a paper about "a courageous Illinoisan," he wrote about Bertelli's legal battle to obtain and maintain this monument to himself and his accordion. The paper ended, of course, when Roy died ... and had himself buried somewhere else. Yes, the goofy mess you see above is an empty crypt.

"Really," I told the older cousin, "he's like THE expert on Mr. Accordion. You should ask him about it."

"I will!" the older said between guffaws. "That's a great story. And he did a paper on it? That's awesome shit."

My work here is done.

*Or he did before the election. I imagine many Trump supporters now have buyer's remorse.

That wasn't so bad

Last week, my older nephew -- the one in the Navy -- asked me if I'd have dinner with him on Sunday. He's driving cross-country from his base in Washington State to his new assignment in Connecticut.

I was dreading it. He annoys me with his insensitivity and to-the-right-of-Attila-the-Hum politics. But I was touched that he wanted to see me, especially since his mother, my older sister, has told him a lifetime worth of pretty horrible things about me.

So we met at The Italian Village. It's the charming, old-school Chicago landmark restaurant where my parents/his grandparents had their first real date, nearly 65 years ago.

I was able to kill quite a bit of time with the story of how his grandparents met and got together. I stretched the story out to the point of Tom Hanks/Meg Ryan rom-com. Then I asked him about his life in the Navy and his girlfriend Shelby. By then, 2 and a half hours had gone by and I could slip away, without the word, "Trump" ever having been spoken.

I did let him get away with two unfortunate uses of the word, "retarded."  I feel bad that I didn't correct him, but it was more important for me to get through the dinner smoothly.

And we did.

I'm relieved and, to be honest, a little happy. I've been wrestling mightily with the sad state of affairs within my family. I don't like my sisters, they don't like me, and they don't really like each other that much. I have no desire to change this situation. They are the way they are -- if the three of us met as strangers we wouldn't like each other. So "regret" is the wrong word for the way I feel. I just wish things were different.

But maybe it skips a generation. My niece and nephews seem to think I'm pretty neat, regardless of what they may hear at home. And that soothes me.

Sunday Stealing

Sunday Stealing: The Kathy Aay Questions

1. What is the meaning of your blog’s name? It was available.

2. Why did you start your blogging? It's a snapshot of my life at any particular moment. It surprises me to look back and see what mattered to me then, especially when it no longer matters to me now.

3. What’s your usual bedtime? I'm a big girl now. I go to bed whenever I feel like it.

4. Are you lazy? Very.

5. Do you miss anyone right now? Yes.

6. How would you describe your fashion sense? Casual.

7. What are your nicknames? "The Gal Herself" is all you're going to get out of me.

8. Are you a patient person? No.

9. Are you tight-fisted or frivolous? Yes. Meaning I waste money on crap, but I'll also walk three blocks to avoid an ATM fee. I always have a plastic bag in my purse to save the 7¢ bag fee the city constituted. I suppose I'm financially schizoid.

10. What magazines do you read? Entertainment Weekly, People, Glamour and Allure. With the advent of the Trump Presidency, I believe being too informed can be hazardous to one's health.

11. Are you stubborn? Very

12. When is your birthday? November

13. What book are you currently reading? Chaos, by Patricia Cornwell. So far I'm enjoying it. But since it's gotten wretched reviews, I wouldn't be surprised if it took a nasty turn.

14. What phone do you have? My landline is a 2-headset cordless I got at

One is in my livingroom, one on my nightstand

Staples. My cell is an LG Leon with a cracked screen.

15. Do you have any pets? I share my home with two cats: Reynaldo Curtis is a skinny beige tom and Constance McKenzie is a compact black-and white girlcat.

16. Do you have siblings? Two sisters

17. Any children or grandchildren? Nope

18. What do you order at Starbucks? I hate coffee, so I go to Starbucks very seldom. When I find myself there, I have a tall hot chocolate, no whipped cream. And I sprinkle cinnamon in it. I don't really taste it, but I love the smell.

19. What did you do for your last birthday? I took myself to Graceland to visit The King. I had a wonderful time and highly recommend it. 

20. What’s your occupation? I'm an advertising writer.

21. Do you live in the country or the city? I'm a City Mouse.

Giving the old girl her due

I know, I know. The far left wing of the Democratic Party sees her as the Leader of the Cabal, the Queen of the Oligarchy.

Yada-yada-yada.

You know what I see when I look at Nancy Pelosi? A 77-year-old woman with the balls and brains, the energy and dedication to lead her delegation. I bet 47-year-old Paul Ryan is secretly envious of her this week.

Nancy Pelosi is also a tireless supporter of reproductive rights. A good Catholic girl, she manages to make her argument without using the polarizing word, "abortion." Instead she approaches the subject with commonsense. "Family planning services reduce costs. Contraception reduces costs to the states and the federal government."

She's a civil libertarian, taking heat for her vote against the Constitutional Amendment to ban flag burning.

She's an advocate for the LGBT community, and she does it in ways that transcend marching in parades. She does it with her gavel. Historic decisions on behalf of gay rights all had her vote and estimable support.

Oh yeah, and when she was Speaker of the House, Obamacare passed.

I know it's fashionable these days for both the far left and the alt right to rail against the rules. Against "Washington" and "business as usual." Shut the fuck up, I say.

I agree with our former President, "No Drama Obama," who said he supports, “A sense of unity, a sense of inclusion, a respect for our institutions, our way of life, the rule of law, and respect for each other. I hope that he maintains that spirit throughout the transition, and certainly I hope that’s the way [the Trump] Presidency begins."

Nancy Pelosi lives that. Year after year, her actions on the Hill support that.

Thank you, Congresswoman Pelosi.

Saturday 9

Saturday 9: The Heat of the Moment (1982)

1) What's something you did or said "in the heat of the moment?" A friend of mine posted something addressed to me on Facebook. A friend of hers, some jerk I'd never met, added a snarky comment. (Why do people completely forget their manners on Facebook?) I replied in kind. Then I reconsidered and deleted it before it was seen. Why get in the mud with the pigs?

2) Asia's founder and bass player, John Wetton, passed away in January. One of his bandmates remembered him as a reliable performer who made everyone around him look better. Do you enjoy being the center of attention? Or would you, like Mr. Wetton, prefer to play a supporting role? I can do either. Depends on the situation.

3) Asia is a British band who played their first US concert at Clarkson University in Potsdam, New York. The nearest major city -- Ottawa, Canada -- is a 90-minute drive from Pottsdam. When you were last in the car for an hour or more? Where were you going? I was in the car for about 2.5 hours, driving down to present to our client. When I was closer to my coworkers, I enjoyed the bonding time. Now I prefer to take the Amtrak train. The very thought of making small talk for 2.5 hours with the crew I work with now is painful.

4) The song refers to disco hot spots, which apparently, by 1982, no one wanted to go to anymore. Let's make that negative into a positive. Describe your perfect night out with friends. Where would you go? This hole in the wall bar. Because if I'm at Joe's in the evening, it means I was at Wrigley Field during the day, watching my beloved WORLD CHAMPION Cubs.

5) In 1982, the year this song was popular, someone laced bottles of Tylenol with cyanide. That's why we now have tamper-proof caps on many products. Have you used anything in a tamper-proof bottle yet today? My prescription allergy pills.

6) In 1982, Time Magazine's Person of the Year wasn't a person at all, it was "the computer." What do you use your computer for most often? Farting around and playing Farmville.

7) 1982 also saw the premiere of The Weather Channel. Where do you learn the day's weather forecast? (Watching the local news on TV, checking your phone, looking out the window ...) I have my favorite: Andy Avalos of NBC 5. He may not be any more or less accurate than any other local weatherman, but he's an enthusiastic advocate for Chicago's homeless pet population.

 

8) In 1982, Arnold Schwarzenegger's movie, Conan the Barbarian, was a hit in theaters. When you settle down to watch a movie, is it usually a fantasy, like Conan? Or do you prefer another genre (action, comedy, adventure, romance, drama, classic ...) I like all kinds of movies EXCEPT sci fi and fantasy. I'd rather get my teeth cleaned than watch Star Wars or Lord of the Rings.

  
9) Random question: What is something you try to avoid? Sci fi and fantasy movies.

The Friday 56

The Friday 56

Rules:
*Grab a book, any book.
*Turn to page 56 or 56% in your eReader
(If you have to improvise, that's ok.)
*Find any sentence, (or few, just don't spoil it)
*Post it.

Every week I mean to play this, and every week I forget. TODAY I GOT IT!

From Chaos, page 56.   

Kay Scarpetta speaking: "Let's hope that's not who placed the 911 call, because it would suggest he was in close proximity to me today," I reply. "And I've been hoping whoever the cyber-bully is, he's not in Cambridge. Preferably he's on the other side of the planet."

The first time in six years

I voted for Grandpa Rossey tonight on Dancing with the Stars. He was surprisingly good. And he's one of my guys, so I simply had to dial and click on his behalf.

My friend John and I watched obsessively and voted for Nancy Grace when she performed on DWTS back in 2011, but we did that because we loved to hate her. Her dances were pure camp and she even suffered a nip slip on national TV. We had to vote for her because we didn't want the spectacle to end.

But watching David Ross twirl and quickstep to "Go, Cubs, Go" was just pure joy. No snark. And very necessary.

For today the news was filled with hearings. Donald Trump's tweets about Barack Obama and surveillance were debunked by the FBI director. There was official, on-the-record testimony about an investigation into the Trump campaign's/administration's possible ties to Russia. Then afterward, my President's spokesman told me black is white and up is down. Suddenly Paul Manafort -- the choreographer credited with last summer's Republican convention, the man praised by Donald Trump Jr. as having "the family's" full support -- only played "a limited role in the campaign."

It was beyond depressing.

The Oscars are over. Robert Osborne is dead. Opening Day isn't for weeks. I need David Ross on Dancing with the Stars.

 

"Because I want to still love him."

I have two nephews. The younger one is sweet and thoughtful and quiet. The older one is an alpha -- big and blond and charming. The younger one is by far the brighter bulb, yet he idolizes the older.

The younger one was touched deeply by the Bernie Sanders campaign. He was inspired to become a election judge, the first step in what promises to be a lifetime of involvement. The older one posted memes like this.

Now there could be a lot of reasons why the older one does this. 1) His Beevis/Butthead side laughs at chlamydia. 2) He's in the Navy and military culture doesn't encourage free thought or sensitivity. 3) He's incredibly immediate, and since he doesn't think beyond hitting "post," it doesn't occur to him that he could be offending his biggest fan.

But it did and it does. I asked my younger nephew what's going on with the older one -- specifically I wanted to know if he may be getting married soon, because I'd want to send a gift.* I was surprised to hear my younger nephew say, "I don't know. I don't follow him on social media anymore."

"Why not?"

"Because I want to still love him."

This made me so sad.

So it's come to this. Our political discourse has become this coarse and this cruel. This casually cruel.

We're so in love with labels. My "progressive" cousin believes his own mother is "a racist homophobe" because she voted Trump. My "conservative" aunt calls her oldest son's political activism "puerile." They didn't talk on Christmas. They didn't talk yesterday, on his birthday.

Now my two nephews aren't communicating directly.

I read the other day that progressives believe it's "important" for Rachel Maddow to call Paul Ryan and Donald Trump racist. I remember when the Right believed it was "important" for Barack Obama and Hillary Clinton to label "radical Islamic terrorism"

I do not like this President. I cannot actually comprehend that he is, indeed, President. I struggle getting my mind around the fact that he was elected.

But he was. And I want to understand why. I don't want to understand Trump, I want to understand the Trump voter.

I refuse to believe that half the country is racist and hatefilled. Certainly it's possible that Donald Trump is, but labeling him as such just makes his supporters feel disrespected and they will dig in.

I refuse to believe that Bernie Sanders ever wanted to be a wrecking ball and destroy the fabric of the government he's participated in for more than 25 years.

I refuse to believe that Hillary Clinton is a disease-ridden felon.

I refuse to believe that Barack Obama is just about anything I've heard him called by the alt-right.

But it seems I'm alone in the minority. It feels like my fellow Americans are obsessed with labeling one another, stereotyping one another, dividing us into "us" and "them."

I don't like what it's doing to my family or my country.

*No matter how old he is, he'll always be a big, dumb kid and I'll always have a soft spot in my heart for him. Regardless of his politics.