June 21st, 2026

 

       I turned forty about a month before my oldest child, George, was born.

 Soon after, I realized something important. I wasn't really a man until I became a father. Before that, I was a selfish only child who spent the first forty years of his life doing more stupid things than smart things.

       Fatherhood came naturally to me. It was much easier than being a husband. I never minded changing stinky diapers. I got up in the middle of the night without complaint to warm a bottle and feed a baby.

           I also pulled a few stunts as a father that turned heads.

  Do you remember those blue plastic things you are supposed to stick in a baby's nose when they are congested? Your child can't breathe, there is snot everywhere, they are running a fever, and somehow you are supposed to clear their sinuses with a little piece of plastic that couldn't suck a marble through a garden hose.

         I couldn't do it. So, I improvised.

  I would put a towel on the floor, cradle the sick baby in my arms, put my mouth over their nose and mouth, and suck all that junk right out. Then I would spit those lovely phlegm treasures onto the towel.

   A couple rounds of that, and I would have a relieved baby sleeping peacefully in my arms while their mother looked at me like I had completely lost my mind.

           Years after my marriage failed, I realized part of the problem.

I wasn't a husband anymore.

I was only a father.

       I fell asleep more nights on the kids' bedroom floor after reading stories than I did next to my wife. I hugged and kissed my children but forgot to hug and kiss their mother.

              That realization took me years to understand.

      If I have any advice for you young guys who are about to get married and have children, it is this… Don't let the flame die.

   After children arrive, it is easy to make them the center of everything. Be the best father you can be, but make sure your children see that you are also a great husband.

     Children need to see their parents laugh together. They need to see them flirt. They need to see their father treat their mother with love and respect.

             Don't let them see only the arguments and disagreements.

  It is important for sons because it teaches them how to treat women. It is even more important for daughters because it teaches them what kind of man they should expect in their lives.

    You don't want your son growing up to be an assclown, and you certainly don't want your daughter attracted to one.

      Like the Oldman always said……

         "The two greatest gifts a man can receive in life are the love of a woman and the trust of a child."

       Happy Father's Day to all the dads who would do anything for the passion produced from their loins and continues to fill their hearts with love.

           Show them why you are the best that today proclaims you to be!

June 20th, 2026

 

    This summer marks the end of the decade when everything I do is still done as a man in his fifties.

       It was a quick decade.

  It started with a man standing at the end of a failed marriage, wondering what the hell just happened. It ends with a man getting ready to enter a decade where the Shepkids will become adults, his career will start heading toward the finish line, and the calendar will stop pretending that time moves slowly.

    If one thing stands out from my fifty-something years, it is that the world is ridiculous.

It has always been ridiculous, but it takes about fifty years of living to finally admit it.

   Everything seems to have some ridiculous attached to it. Start with the easy targets. The media, advertising, trends and fashion. The things people pretend are important because somebody on a screen told them they should be.

   Then move into the heavier stuff. Politics, religion, status, money and pride. The teams we pick. The sides we join. The flags we fly. The hills we decide to die on, even when most of those hills are nothing more than piles of crap that we made ourselves.

      The most ridiculous thing I have figured out is how we treat each other.

   How we love each other. How we hate each other. How fake we can be with each other. How quickly we decide who matters and who does not. How often we measure people by what they can do for us, what they look like, where they come from, what they believe, or whether they fit inside the little box we built in our own heads.

    I am not talking about family here. Blood is thicker than water, and family gets its own complicated chapter.

              I am talking about the pecking order.

   I am talking about users and abusers. I am talking about people who smile when they need something and disappear when they do not. I am talking about how foolish we are when we let things that do not really matter decide how we live, who we love, and who we refuse to forgive.

      That might be the most ridiculous part of all.

   The importance we give to things that do not matter.

      They matter for a minute. They matter to a few people. They matter in the moment when everybody is worked up and puffed up and acting like the world will stop spinning if they do not win the argument.

      But most of that bullshit has a short shelf life.

 Most of the things that keep us angry, worried, jealous, bitter, or afraid do not matter nearly as long as we think they will.

           Do you know what else has a short shelf life?

           Our time between our birth date and our death date.

             That little dash in the middle is not as long as we pretend it is.

   As I finish my fifty-something decade, I realize that most of the things that came along and mucked up my life were ridiculous. Not all of them. Some pain is real. Some loss is real. Some heartbreak leaves a mark that does not wash off, but a lot of the noise was ridiculous.

A lot of the anger was ridiculous.

A lot of the worry was ridiculous.

A lot of the people I tried to impress were ridiculous.

       That is why today’s Shakespeare quote fits my mood this morning:

                      “Better a witty fool than a foolish wit.”

     Shakespeare is saying it is better to be the guy who knows he is a fool and can still laugh at the world than the guy who thinks he is clever but has no wisdom at all.

     Maybe in my next decade, when I am sixty-something, I will finally know which man I am. The guy who realized he was the fool on the hill, or the guy too stubborn to realize it.

     Either way, I am starting to figure something out. Ridiculous things do not deserve front-row seats in our lives. Let’s figure out what is ridiculous and ban it from the room.

      Gusto is not ridiculous. Astonishment is not ridiculous. A good laugh is not ridiculous. Forgiveness is not ridiculous, and a sun with a smile on its face is not ridiculous.

    Those are the things that get us through the dash.

               Ignore the ridiculous crap today, Chalkheads.

           Be the witty fool, at least he knows enough to laugh.

June 19th, 2026

            Today’s quote is about leaving the past behind.

    Apparently, I decided to take that advice literally.

        It is not often that I wake up on my couch with my clothes and shoes still on. When I checked my messages, my bartender informed me that I had left with an open tab, and my neighbor downstairs sent me a picture of a cigar ash in the back hallway along with a note explaining that the hallway smelled like a casino.

   I never get a Thursday night off from the markets, so it turned into one of those nights where the walk to the local bar was 675 steps and the walk home somehow stretched to 913.

I’m sure I left quite an impression on my acquaintances. Hopefully they remember that I rarely go out on a school night. That still isn't much of an excuse for pounding down four, maybe five, Old Fashioneds.

       It is 3:30 on a Friday morning and I don’t have to stand at a trading desk today.

 It would have been nice to wake up next to someone who loves me and make a pot of coffee together, but instead I’m sitting alone with a cool breeze drifting through the window and a headache pounding behind my eyes.

      Yesterday I quit all my social media accounts.

 I had been on Facebook since 2008. Eighteen years with Mark Zuckerberg is longer than I was married to Terese.

      This morning I reached for my phone to check for likes and comments that no longer exist. I never thought of myself as an addictive person, but apparently, I had become pretty attached to posting my thoughts to a shit ton of strangers.

    At some point I started wondering why I was sharing my worries and anxieties with 1,679 people. The truth is that I probably never met 1,300 of them.

   The more I thought about it, the more it seemed like one more thing from the past that needed to be left behind. So today I must slink down to the bar, pay my tab, apologize if necessary, and find a way to deodorize the back hallway.

          After that?

                    Who knows.

    It is a national holiday. I don't have to work, I don't have Facebook and I don't have TikTok.

What I do have is a three-day weekend and a little more time to look for gusto and astonishment.

        Happy Friday, Chalkheads.

    Now if you will excuse me, I need a large glass of water and enough aspirin to make peace with yesterday's decisions.

June 17th, 2026

 The famous line by Captain Jean-Luc Picard when it was time to get your butt in gear…

“Make it so.”

Very proper, very Captain like.

I am not much of a Trekkie, but if you make me choose between Star Trek and Star Wars, I’m taking Star Trek.

I enjoyed the first couple of Star Wars movies, especially The Empire Strikes Back. That one had Lando Calrissian, played by Billy Dee Williams. The coolest soul brother in space. The same guy who played Gale Sayers and convinced America that Colt 45 malt liquor was a fine life choice.

As far as Star Trek goes, I am only interested in the original series and The Next Generation.

The thing I always found fascinating was the holodeck.

For you non Trekkies, a holodeck was a room sized virtual reality simulator. You could step inside and become part of any story, any place, any time. It was one of the most famous pieces of technology from The Next Generation era.

Back in the early 1990s, it seemed like pure fantasy. Now? Maybe not so much.

With virtual reality hardware getting better every year and artificial intelligence advancing at a pace that is frightening…

… the holodeck no longer feels impossible. It feels inevitable.

Someday I might be able to live out some of my own storylines.

I could spend an evening in a Havana nightclub listening to Tito Puente while smoking a Cuban cigar, wearing a linen suit and a Panama hat.

I could line up at center for the 1958 Baltimore Colts and snap the ball to Johnny Unitas.

I could attend Midnight Mass celebrated by Pope John Paul II with my family sitting beside me in the pew.

I might even hotwire the holodeck for an intimate evening in Paris with Julia Roberts and see where the night takes us.

Virtual reality and AI may never replace real life, but they sure have the potential to add a few exciting chapters to it.

The future is arriving faster than most of us expected. Maybe the real question isn’t whether we can build a holodeck. Maybe the question is what we will choose to do with it once we have one.

As for me, I already have a list.

Make it so……

June 16th, 2026

 I chalked this quote from Ralph Waldo Emerson. His point is that a minute of anger does not cost you a minute.

It usually costs the entire morning. It can cost a relationship, a night’s sleep, or simply the chance to enjoy something that is right there in front of you.

Every one of us has a list of people, events, disappointments, and struggles that could keep us angry all the way to the two-minute warning of life.

The problem with anger is it charges you interest. It steals the moment, it steals laughter, and it steals an ordinary Tuesday afternoon that we will never get back.

Forgiveness doesn’t mean the other person was right. It means you are no longer willing to let them control your happiness.

Life is too short and summer is too beautiful to stay pissed off.

Get out and enjoy the sun while it shines, and appreciate the clouds that arrived without an invitation.

Angry people have a hard time finding the gusto and astonishment that life brings. You Chalkheads on the other hand, sure as hell can find it.

It is Two for Tuesday…

…. Please don’t let it be the Eagles or Boston.

Deus Vult.

June 15th, 2026

 Monday morning already, and this week brings us into the second half of June.

The funny thing about life is that things never really calm down. There is always another calamity, another obligation, another worry, another shot to the groin lurking around the bend.

So stop waiting for everything to calm down.

Grab life by the throat and yell, “Bring it on, you somabitches!”

The Grabber section shows a couple of winning ball clubs here in town. Let’s not start kissing each other on the mouth just yet.

I’ve seen this scenario before, and most of the time it doesn’t end the way we wanted.

Still, that’s no reason to sit on the sidelines...

… Go toward the commotion, Chalkheads.

June 14th, 2026

     I have this theory that God has a whacked sense of humor.

Think about all the energy we spend hating each other while we are alive.

Blacks and Whites, Shep and Bergsy, Rome and Carthage, Tupac and Biggie, Polish and German. Irish and English. Democrat and Republican, Catholics and Protestants, Cub fans and Sox fans.

We spend our lives building fences, flying flags, choosing sides, and deciding who belongs on the other side of the Monon tracks.

Then God looks down from Heaven and says, "You knuckleheads have no idea what is coming."

Because if His plan is true, eternity is going to be one giant family reunion.

The Polish guy will be sitting next to the German guy eating sausages. My ex-wife and I drinking coffee together. The Irishman will be saving a barstool for an Englishman. The Southsider and the Northsider arguing about what team Harry Carey liked better. While they are both enjoying Old Styles with Ron Santo and Minnie Minoso.

The people who spent their entire lives avoiding each other are suddenly neighbors for eternity. That seems like the biggest prank phone call ever made.

Imagine getting up to Heaven and finding out God put your eternal cloud right next to the person you spent eighty years being pissed off with.

“Lord, there must be a mistake over here.”

“No mistake,” says Jesus. “Pull up a chair. You two are family now.”

Maybe that is why forgiveness matters so much.

Maybe God isn’t asking us to forgive because the other person deserves it. Maybe He is asking because eventually we are all going to be breaking bread together anyway.

The older I get, the more I suspect Heaven is not a place where God separates the people who annoyed us. It is a place where He finally teaches us to love each other…

…. And if that is true, God definitely has one heck of a sense of humor.

June 13th, 2026

         Today I chalked a line from the Ike Reilly song “Devil’s Valentine.”

What makes this lyric powerful is how it rejects both extremes.

Dreams give us hope, and fear is what keeps us up all night. In the middle is a pile of bills, a broken promise, an empty beer bottle, and a career that never quite panned out the way I imagined.

I will never be free of fear, and I will never fully realize those dreams. Most of life is lived on the road between fear and desire.

That is pretty much how I ended up in the Divorced Dad District.

I dreamt about a different life, and I had the fear of losing everything. Somewhere between stop signs, life happened.

I raise the ShepKids on dreams and fear, but they don’t know it.

Every morning, somewhere between a Hail Mary and an Our Father, I tell the devil to go fuck himself.

I chalk on this blackboard, I stand at a trading desk, I pay an overdue bill, I wonder what I’m missing out on, and I wait for another sunset.

Somewhere in between it all, I better figure things out before I become part of someone else's prayer.

One day we all become the name spoken after grace at dinner, the face in a photograph on a dresser, the person somebody misses when a song comes on the radio.

I’m not living a dream, but I’m not having a nightmare either. I’m just breathing in and out the life that was given to me by two people who left before I was ready to let them go.

I’m not sure I would have understood what Ike Reilly was talking about when I was twenty-five, but standing on the doorstep of sixty…

…it makes a lot more sense.

That is why I don’t worry too much about the story my pillow tells.

Okay, Chalkheads…

It is Saturday, and we are moving into the middle of June. This time of year brings long days and short shadows. Perfect for finding the gusto, astonishment, and smiling back at the sun.

June 12th, 2026

 Short and sweet for the Friday Morning Chalkboard.

The quote comes from James Baldwin. Baldwin spent his career writing about the gap between what people felt and what people did.

It is easy to be sad. The challenge is changing that behavior and picking yourself up. You gotta be willing to change.

It is National Jerky Day.

We had a kid on the trading floor that made jerky and sold it in little bags that you can fit in the pocket of your trading jacket. That is one of the little things that I miss from my Board of Trade days.

Happy Friday Chalkheads!

June 11th, 2026

    It doesn’t matter who said today’s quote, Winnie the Pooh, Christopher Robin, or anyone else from the Hundred Acre Wood.

It is the smallest things in life that take up the most room in our hearts.

A plate of sweet corn with melted butter. A summer evening that stays light out until well after 8:30. The sound of kids playing in the backyard. A dog sound asleep on the front porch. The White Sox game on the radio. A text from a ShepKid that says, “I love you dad xoxoxo.” An old friend stopping by for an Old Style. The smell of freshly cut grass drifting through an open window.

When I was young, I thought life was built around the big moments, but I have seen enough life now to know that it is built on ordinary Thursdays in June.

Most of our lives are not spent standing in the spotlight. They are spent sitting around kitchen tables, standing in trading pits, mowing lawns, driving kids to practice, attending church, and breaking bread with people we love.

The older I get, the more I realize that happiness rarely arrives with a second line band or cheerleaders. Happiness often arrives quietly and unannounced.

It shows up in a flashback, conversation, a memory, a laugh, or a familiar voice on the other end of the phone.

Maybe that is why the smallest things take up the most room in our hearts. They are the things that make our lives happy.

Not the selfies and usies that fill our smart phone, but the ordinary moments that fill our souls…

… and June Thursdays, that will bring gusto and astonishment.

Okay you Chalkheads, keep your hearts full and those thighs and cheeks powdered up with GoldBond today.

June 10th, 2026

     Today’s quote is walking a fine line.

Through the years, I’ve become less sensitive to what other people think of me. There are certainly people walking the earth who think I’m a jagoff. Thankfully, none of them are part of my daily life here in the Divorced Dad District.

A couple of former colleagues, my ex-wife, and a few old friends who had the audacity to put ketchup on a hot dog in front of me come to mind.

The other side of that fine line is convincing ourselves that we are the smart one and everyone else is an idiot. That is where the old saying comes in…

…opinions are like assholes. Everybody has one, and they usually both stink.

History gives us plenty of examples of people who were hated, ridiculed, or dismissed, yet stuck hard to what they believed in. Socrates, Galileo, Abraham Lincoln, Winston Churchill and Martin Luther King Jr are the ones that came to mind.

The lesson isn’t that they thought everyone else was foolish. The lesson is that they were willing to stand alone when they believed they were right.

Most of us won’t be remembered in the history books. We won’t have statues in Grant Park, or National holidays. We can still follow the same path on a smaller scale.

Stick to kindness.

Stick to integrity.

Stick to honesty.

If you do that, you will earn the respect and recognition of the people who actually matter. Your family, your friends, your neighbors, and the people who know how you act when nobody is watching.

It is going to be another hot and humid day today. Apply the Gold Bond generously to those nooks and crannies. Don’t let a little sweat on your brow keep you from enjoying the astonishment that June 10th has waiting for you.

June 9th, 2026

    A wet morning to start out this Two for Tuesday, with a warm and humid afternoon waiting in the on-deck circle.

Speaking of Two for Tuesday, some mornings the first two songs come from bands I enjoy. This morning wasn’t one of those mornings.

I turned on 97.1 The Drive. I’ve never really liked the station, but since The Loop went off the air, it is the only classic rock option available in Chicago

And what was the first band they played?

The Eagles.

Now, I can handle The Eagles in small doses, but not “Hotel California.” Not before sunrise, not before coffee and definitely not before I have done my fat cheeks yoga.

Not exactly the start I was hoping for, but if this is the worst thing to happen today, June 9th, 2026 will be a good day.

Today is also Donald Duck Day.

Like a lot of kids growing up in the 1970s, we all had two impressions we did at family get togethers. The first was Howard Cosell and the second was Donald Duck. The Howard Cosell impression annoyed the adults. The Donald Duck impression nearly destroyed our vocal cords.

Our throats always hurt after the Donald Duck routine, but that never stopped us from doing it again.

Which brings me to today’s quote….

… “It is difficult to free fools from the chains they revere.”

Voltaire wasn’t talking about handcuffs or prison cells. He was talking about the things we cling to even when those things hold us back.

Sometimes the chains are bad ideas. Sometimes they are old grudges. Sometimes they are habits we have carried so long that we mistake them for routine. The funny thing about chains we revere is that nobody has to lock them on us. We do that all on our own.

The challenge isn’t finding freedom. The challenge is deciding when we want it.

In the meantime, I’ll try to survive another spin of Hotel California and be grateful my biggest chain this morning is a tired song from the seventies. At least it wasn’t Stairway to Heaven!

GoldBond up Chalkheads!

June 8th, 2026

  Most people think bravery happens on battlefields, in burning buildings, or during headlines that make the five o’clock news.

The truth is, most bravery happens on ordinary Monday mornings.

A father getting out of bed before sunrise and heading to work. A mother worrying about her children long after they have become adults. A husband sitting beside a hospital bed. A wife holding a family together during difficult times. A son carrying memories of his parents who are now in heaven.

Love is what gives courage its purpose.

Without affection, bravery becomes recklessness. Without something to care about, there is nothing worth sacrificing for.

Eighty-two years ago, those young men climbed into landing craft and crossed the English Channel. They were scared, but fear took a back seat because they loved something more than they feared.

They loved their families, their hometowns, and the hope that future generations would live in freedom.

The same principle applies today on a much different scale.

The dad coaching Little League after a long day at work. The woman checking on an elderly relative who can’t get around. The parent helping a child navigate a difficult school year. The friend who answers the phone when someone is struggling.

None of these people will receive medals. Yet each is fighting a battle on behalf of someone they love.

As I get older, I have become convinced that the things worth fighting for are remarkably simple: faith, family, friendship, community, and country.

The older I get, the less impressed I am by people who boast about themselves. I am more impressed by people who quietly carry responsibility.

Because courage is not measured by how loudly a person talks. It is measured by what they are willing to protect.

… and every brave man or woman I have ever known had one thing in common, they loved something more than themselves.

Have a good Monday, Chalkheads. Make it count.

June 7th, 2026

 Sunday’s quote is from Khalil Gibran.

It is simple, but there is a lot packed into it. Gibran isn’t saying life and death are identical. He’s saying they belong to the same journey. A river doesn’t end when it reaches the sea, it becomes part of something larger. The river’s shape changes, but the water continues.

For me, It’s simple, I can’t control the current. I can only swim downstream and hope the ocean forgives me when I arrive.

I know I chalked a cloudy day with rain later, but the sunrise suggests otherwise. The orange glow came quickly over the lake. Reflecting softly off the bottom of the whispering cloudscape.

Off to find gusto and astonishment on this 7th day of June.

June 6th, 2026

    Today’s quote comes from Tolstoy’s War and Peace. The grabber section points to June 6th, the anniversary of the Normandy invasion.

Sometimes I wonder what the spirits and ghosts of those young men who died on a beach in France eighty-two years ago would think if they could see us now.

For the last twenty-five years, it feels like we have been fighting a different kind of battle. Maybe it started on Wednesday September 12th, 2001. The day afterwards….

Somewhere along the line, too many Americans began seeing each other as enemies instead of neighbors. Some of us love America and some of us don’t.

Next month we celebrate 250 years since a collection of farmers, merchants, laborers, and dreamers told King George to go ‘F’ himself and pound some sand. Two hundred and fifty years of victories and defeats, prosperity and hardship, good decisions and bad ones.

Eighty-two years after D-Day, and I’m living in the Divorced Dad District.

I’m trying to raise three kids who will love each other, love life, love their faith, and love their country.

Eighty-two years later, I still worry about bills, but I have a solid job.

Eighty-two years and I’m in a heavily taxed state, but my neighborhood is safe and my neighbors are friendly.

Eighty-two years later and my church isn’t as crowded as it once was, and my parents aren’t sitting in the pew with me anymore, but the Gospel remains unchanged.

Eighty-two years later and we still have a country worth fighting for. A country that needs our support. A nation that needs appreciation.

None of us will be asked to jump from a landing craft while nazis fire machine guns from a bluff above us. Our duty is different. We honor those who fell by building something worthy of their sacrifice.

This morning I will buy gasoline that costs more than I want to pay. I will buy groceries that thin out my wallet a little more than I’d like.

On the other hand, I will make breakfast for people who love me.

Later, I will have a hot dog with people who love me.

Tonight I will break bread and give thanks with people who love me.

All because a bunch of kids stormed a beach on the other side of the ocean.

So go get the gusto and find some astonishment today, Chalkheads.

Show the spirits and ghosts of June 6th, 1944, how grateful you are for the opportunity of June 6th, 2026.

Live a life worthy of the gift they left behind.

June 5th, 2026

 I looked at the quote that I chalked and saw that the Grabber section points out that it is National Donut Day.

It reminds me of something my Father-in-Law often said before a good hearty meal…

"I would rather enjoy this steak today than have to eat gruel in the future.”

What he was saying is to enjoy life to its fullest, take care of yourself and go out on your terms.

… And that is what my Oldman through marriage did. He never ended up in a nursing home. He fell in his kitchen making dinner in late October and went to heaven in early November.

Now I’m not going out and eating a dozen donuts today, but I’m going to enjoy the gusto life brings me.

The first weekend of June. Perfect for a glass of German wine, a Cuban cigar and Gershwin’s Rhapsody in Blue.

I’d like to be doing that on the front porch of 220 South Lombard with my dad, but we only had a brief instant together.

Maybe that is why these small pleasures matter.

The cigar burns down, the music ends and the wine glass empties. The people we love leave sooner than we'd like.

So enjoy the donut.

Just don't forget to savor the day that comes with it.