April 28th, 2024

 Early morning thunderstorms rolled into the western suburbs just after three o’clock. The front curtain of the pre dawn tempest brought loud booming thunder that rang for several seconds.

The gust rose the shades as lightning lit up the window panes. Between the rumbling claps came a faint voice.

“Dad?……… Dad?………

From the couch in the living room, “Yes Hazel….”

“Dad…. I don’t like the thunder. Can you come here please?”

I grabbed my pillow and walked down the hallway to my bedroom. Sitting up in bed was the daughter who recently marked her father as uncool.

I laid down in bed and an arm immediately clung to me. Reassuring all of the advice that I’ve received during this era of fatherhood.

Daughters will always need their daddy.

I closed my eyes and listened to the rain tapping all around. The thunder was well over Lake Michigan and the calmness of the storm had settled in.

The birds added their early repertoire to the dripping rain falling upon the gutters. A freight train rolling across the BNSF brought another easing sound to the drizzle and chirping.

I gently slipped out from the relaxed arm and looked out the bedroom window. The sound of Hazel gently breathing gave added calmness to the Sunday morning storms.

The early daylight is just beginning to creep into the neighborhood. Trees that had tight buds yesterday have exploded overnight with freshness. The newly formed greenery brought to life by the thunderstorm that scared my baby girl.

Through every preteen tantrum I face this summer, I will walk to the window and stare at the leaves formed by the last April showers.

Sometimes the rain brings inconvenience and sometimes it brings assurance. This morning it strengthened the demanding bonds between a daddy and his maturing daughter.

Today is National Pay it Forward Day. Unless you are a Jagoff, everyday is a day to pay forward. I’ve learned that I don’t have to search for a pay it forward situation. It usually falls into my lap at a time when faith is faltering.

Or

When I just need another lesson in humility.

Today is a good day to walk down the river and enjoy the rushing waters strengthened by the thunderstorms. Maybe enjoy a cloudy day at the zoo.

I’m into the last week of this year’s “Sixty Days of Celebrating Cecilia” and May begins on Wednesday.

Today is the perfect day to watch shit do stuff and get prepared for the summer.

Happy Sunday Funday my beautiful Chalkheads…..

April 27th, 2024

   I was sitting in the living room at my grandparents house in Indianapolis. My Gramma, my Ma and all the old ladies in my family were sitting at the dining room table. Some of those old ladies were nun’s.

Nuns were everywhere in my youth. They were at school and they were at my Gramma’s. I couldn’t get away from nuns. These nuns at my Gramma’s were my great aunts.

The conversation was centered on Barbie’s new boyfriend, Chris.

“He works with those computer deal things which I’m not sure what they do exactly.”

Barb and Chris met at the apartment complex that they lived at in the early 1970’s, The Jade North. Barb was my mom’s baby sister and we always did fun stuff together.

Though Aunt B did lose me one time at the Indianapolis Zoo when I was four. I was safe and sound with the elephants when they finally found me.

Barb and Chris were the complete opposite of my mom and dad. They laughed, they talked and they held hands. They took me to the pool at Jade North. They took me to Farrell’s ice cream parlor and they took me to play tennis.

Chris made me my first cocktail before I had my first communion. He got me hooked with his famous Shirley Temple. He used the finest 7up and most syrupy grenadine known to man. He always had a sword for the cherries. This guy had his own swords…. Winning!

Chris McEvoy was still earning approval from Gramma and all of my great aunties… but he was already a rock star in my book and well prepared to become my uncle.

Then the day came and my parents stuck me in the back of the station wagon and we drove down I-65.

I’ve talked before about my dislike for church pants. Those polyester trousers from the ‘70’s with the little belt sewn in and the tiny metal clasp. My hip hop thighs rubbing together in itchy plastic material did not make for a comfortable fit.

But I put them on and we went to Christ the King for the marriage of Barbara Zoellner and Christopher McEvoy.

Aunt B and Uncle Chris became a solid fixture in my life on this day fifty years ago. Sure they made it through fifty years of marriage, but for me… they have been a consistent example of how a husband and wife should be.

Soon after their marriage, my parents divorced and Barb and Chris were there for my Ma and her loud mouth son with the Chicago accent.

The only time Chris got pissed at me was when I would drop a “deaze” and “doze” in front of him.

Most of the family that attended the wedding fifty years ago are in heaven. I’m one of the last remaining witnesses to those long lasting vows.

Barb and Chris are going to renew their marriage today. The wedding is at the retirement home where Cool Hand Chris is living these days.

The one consistent thing in my life has been my Aunt Barb and Uncle Chris. Happy Anniversary you two love birds.

If any of my Hoosier friends want to crash the ceremony…

…it is at the Wellbrooks of Carmel Health Center at 13315 N Pennsylvania Street in Carmel Indiana. It starts at 2pm with the last Shirley Temple being served at 4pm.

Tell them their crazy nephew sent ya!

Back in Chicagoland we have the annual Spring Fling going on in Riverside. Out in Lemont, the Chicago Blaze take the pitch against The Southside Irish.

The last Saturday of April will be perfect for a wedding, a garage band and a rugby match.

Go be astonished and know that love will keep us together.

April 26th, 2024

 The last weekend of April is upon us… make it count!

The new era of disappointment has begun for Chicago Bear fans. If you can say you watched Bob Avellini, then you know what we are in for again.

The repeat button cracked off and we keep hearing an Air Supply song over and over and over and over.

Go attack Friday and always be true to your school. Let your colors fly!

April 25th, 2024

April 24th, 2024

 It is National Bucket List Day. There are several things that I would like to cross off my list, but at this point I’ll just be realistic.

I’d love to visit Scotland or France. Go on a safari in Africa or Australia. Maybe eat some crazy cuisine in the Orient. Get naked in a hot tub with some NFL cheerleaders in Vegas. Oh wait…. I’ve done that!

My bucket list is, and you’ve heard these end plays before… get the Shepkids to adulthood and end up in a condo on Edgewater Beach or a cabin on a hill by a creek in southern Indiana. Those are my buckets in the grand prize game of life.

A cold front came off the lakefront overnight. The sun will be smiling, but the wind will have a bite on this last Wednesday of April.

If today is the last Wednesday of April, that means we are sliding into the last weekend of April.

That also means these mother fucking cicadas are about to invade our yards. Let’s blame our dysfunctional government for this mess.

Alright…. Let’s get it on Chalkheads!

Go out and spread small acts of kindness and try to be astonished.

April 23rd, 2024

 I woke up thinking about all of the times my parents yelled at me. All the times that I let them down and disappointed them.

…And then I realized, what does it matter?

They are dead and can’t remember all of the stupid shit that I did when I was a kid.

All of our memories and dreams die with us. Just like the money we’ve earned throughout our lifetime… we can’t take it to heaven.

I have a voice message that my dad left me Christmas morning of 2016. He wished me and my family a Merry Christmas. He told me that he loved me and that he was proud of me.

Every once in awhile I listen to my dad’s voice and go back to that Christmas morning. That was the first Christmas without my mom and the last Christmas that I woke up next to my wife. George Michael died later that day and my dad was proud of me.

With all of that going on… Santa Claus still showed up.

Maybe this quote should say, “The goal is to die with more memories and less dreams?”

…and here we are again on a Tuesday morning. Things never looked so good and I’m already in a daydream.

I’m glad I looked at the almost full moon yesterday morning. The clouds are covering it this morning at its peak. Luckily I see those clouds as rows and flows of angel hair. Thinking that makes it a little more acceptable to miss the Pink Moon of April. None of us stand so tall when the pink moon is on its way.

Go be astonished!

These Speakers

I was sitting here listening to music on my AAL speakers that I bought at MusiCraft on North Avenue in 1990.

These speakers have played the soundtrack to my life for thirty four years.

My memory tells me the first CD played through their diaphragm was “Sticky Fingers” or possibly some English Beat. They’ve played all eras of jazz and blues. Gospel, country, punk, classical and even Gregorian chant.

I was in love with a girl who is still my friend. She went with me to buy these speakers on a sunny Saturday morning. I let her play her Melissa Ethridge and Randy Travis and we both listened to John Hiatt.

The same receiver is still connected and that same girl gave me her dad’s turntable when he passed away.

I sat here and drank tea, listened to music and thought about where my speakers will be in thirty-four years. Who will my daughter give them to? Will a stranger be drinking from my tea set?

I won’t be around in 2058 to listen to ninety year old Rolling Stone songs. Does 2058 seem like a long time from now? It’s the same amount of time that 1990 is and that seems like yesterday. Which means that the end of the 2050’s is tomorrow.

I could tell you that is the helmet that Bobby Brady wore when Joe Namath was on “The Brady Bunch,” but it is not. It’s a Christmas present for a buddy of mine, but he’s always out of town on Christmas. So, I haven’t given it to him yet.

Those speakers have moved with me from bachelorhood, through a marriage and into a divorce.

Love songs have been love songs and not love songs anymore. Sad songs have been sad songs and not so sad today.

Those speakers were first wired during the age of CD’s and now only play vinyl records. The whole time they’ve tuned into WXRT, WDCB and WFMT. They dialed into classic rock on 97.9FM, Mr. A’s rhythm and blues after midnight on WNIB and Dick Buckley’s swing jazz on WBEZ. The Loop plays Christian music now and those two old DJs went off the air and into Heaven’s wave lengths.

The day will come when I hear my last song on these speakers. Maybe I’ll be listening to these speakers during my last breath?

My imagination wants me to think it will be Gershwin, Tchaikovsky, Dvorak, Miles or Muddy. Maybe my grandchildren will be playing some crap that needs to be turned down?

I lived at my parent's house the first few months I owned these speakers. My Oldman yelled at me to turn down the fucking god forsaken crap that I was listening to.

It was a new Van Halen CD that I just bought.

When I set these speakers to eleven, the whole neighborhood can hear them. Tonight, I had them at two and George came out of his room and told me to turn down that old geezer stuff.

I’m stuck in a thirty four year old time warp… drinking Earl Grey wondering if I should go to bed because it’s already nine thirty.

I’m stuck in a thirty four year old time warp thinking how all this shit happened so quickly.

Maybe the most appropriate song to play last in a lifetime will find me behind the wheel of a big car? Maybe I’ll be in a nice home with my gorgeous spouse…

…and I can ask myself, “well…. How did I get here?”

…and you ask yourself, “does he really own a tea set?”