January 24th, 2023

    I just want to sit on the front stoop at 220 South Lombard and take a deep breath. Maybe reach for my mitt and a rubber league baseball. Put a wad of big league chew in my mouth and throw the bottom of the ninth against the concrete steps.

My dad can come out and yell at me for throwing that god damn ball against the house again.

He never understood….When I pitched that ball against those seven steps it always came back to the pitching mound out on the sidewalk. I don’t know why the hell it pissed him off so much.

I just want to sit on that stoop one more time and enjoy a root beer float and watch the first lightning bugs appear in the front yard. Listen to my dad talk about when he was a kid. How much of a treat it was to have ice cream on the front porch.

I just want to sit on that front stoop and drink my first legal Old Style without sneaking behind the garage….. having my dad call Old Style Panther Piss as he hands me another one from the icebox. I’d do anything if I could have one more cold one on the front steps at 220 South Lombard.

I wonder if the man who owns our house now would call the police if I stopped over and threw a ball against his front stoop. I can tell him the tree in his front yard was planted during the spring of 1984 and offer him one of my Old Style’s before Oak Park’s finest show up.

Whenever I was around that front stoop I never had any problems. I didn’t have any unpaid bills. I didn’t have an ex wife driving me insane. I didn’t have to worry about anything.

If I fell down my dad would pick me up, throw me a clean towel and turn the water on in the shower.

We all need to pay an occasional visit to our parents front stoop. Every once in awhile I'll get into Betty the Green Blazer and do a drive by. Usually I stop by my dad's old White Hen and buy a lottery ticket or go by the Oak Park bakery and get a coffee cake.

The tree we planted is taller than the house. The new owners planted bushes and flower beds all over the place. Any remnants of a baseball diamond or the gridiron made famous at the TurkeyBowl of 1981 are long gone. The third base line has a hydrangea bush on it. The end zone is a rose garden.

I’m tired… I just want to walk up the front stoop and up the stairs. Climb into my bed and take a nap until breakfast is ready.

Not going to happen….

…I often try to remember the last time I threw the ball against the front stoop. I didn’t know at the time that this is it, this is the last inning of my illustrious front stoop baseball career. I’m thirteen, fourteen years old and I’m never going to throw a ball against the front steps ever again.

If I do anything in 2023, I’m going to find a wall somewhere and pitch a couple innings for the 1977 White Sox.

Do they still make hard rubber baseballs?

I’ll probably end up on Tiktok, “oLd fAt dAd dOIng HiS yOUth!”

“Hey kid put down the fucking phone! I need a right fielder!”

Anyway, it’s Tuesday morning and it looks so good. I’m already in a daydream.

In a daydream on the front stoop at 220 South Lombard.

January 23rd, 2023

      I moped around the house most of the day on Sunday after I found out Lin Brehmer passed away. There have been a string of celebrity deaths to start out this new year and this one is probably the most painful.

Especially for Chicagoland, especially for Cub fans, rock and roll fans and all of us that made WXRT a way of life.

Last week we were talking at work about the deaths that have been in the news recently. I made the statement that I don’t usually get too bent out of shape, but it looks like I spoke too soon.

I felt the sting when David Bowie died and when Prince died. I was sad when Anthony Bourdain was gone and Robin Williams death left a huge void as well.

I’m sure the loss of Lin Brehmer will be part of Monday’s conversation along with the NFL playoffs, the economy and politics.

It sucks that a gorgeous voice, a positive voice is gone when so many negative ones remain. I just don’t see the fairness in that.

Chicago celebrities obviously hit closer to home when they leave the world. Radio personalities seem harder because they come into our home or drive with us around town. They become a family member, a best friend.

I remember how sad my dad was when Wally Phillips died. When I was a little kid I thought my dad was close friends with him, he loved him so much. Dick Buckley was another tough loss for my father, but the biggest pain for the Oldman was when Bob Collins crashed his plane.

Lin Brehmer’s voice gave comfort to my generation just like Wally Phillips did for my father’s age group.

Twenty years ago Lin started recording radio essays that he called Lin’s Bin. I’ve kind of modeled the Morning Chalkboard after it. He answered fans questions and talked about anything from baseball to Christmas trees to rock and roll, but mostly he talked about humanity.

The Morning Chalkboard has taken the same kind of direction. I always found it therapeutic listening to Lin’s three minutes study on life and now the Chalkboard has become that healing tool for me.

Yesterday I made hotdogs for Sunday lunch. I made two with mustard and two with ketchup. I popped open an Old Style because Lin would want that.

He loved opening day at Wrigley Field and would broadcast live every year from a bar across the street. So a beer and a dog was an appropriate meal on a day with such a loss.

When I was handing out hot dogs to the kids, Hazel asked me if she could have a bite of mine. Mine was one of the mustard hotdogs. The other one was for George since he is over the legal age in Cook County.

“Sure Hazel, but it has mustard on it….”

She took a bite anyway and said,

“Dad, from now on can you put mustard on my hot dog?”

The day that Lin Brehmer passed away my baby girl made the switch from ketchup to mustard on her hot dog. A proud moment for a Chicago dad.

Lin Brehmer was Chicago’s best friend, he made a point of telling us that. He also said, “It’s great to be alive.”

Knowing that we will never hear his voice mutter that ever again. We must all realize to never take life for granted.

He left his listeners last July before his medical leave of absence, “Take nothing for granted, it’s f-ing great to be alive….”

We will lose more Chicago personalities during our lifetime, but this one is going to leave a mark.

Have a great Monday, have a great week. Sunset is getting closer and closer to 5:00pm.

Pitchers and catchers report in a couple of weeks and before you know it the smell of mustard and grilled onions and the sounds of the ballpark will come alive.

Just like Lin would want it.

January 22nd, 2023

    Here we are entering the last part of January already. The building across the street kitty corner had simple Christmas lights at the entrance of its courtyard. I enjoyed looking at them in the morning when I walked to Betty. They stopped turning them on this weekend.

Most homes and businesses have turned off their decorations. The warmth of the Christmas season has been extinguished. February is on the doorstep of what has been a mild winter in Chicagoland.

The record books show that January is the coldest and snowiest, but it’s February that always scares me. December has it’s Christmas warmth…. January, the newness of a fresh beginning. February is usually a prick tease stroked by the closeness of spring, but still held tight by the frigidness of Mother Nature.

Standing on the Ridgeland platform of the Lake Street elevated or walking across the Chicago River in February have bone chilling memories for me.

We still have a week and a half of January left and I’m bitching about February already. I need to remember that I only have twenty eight February’s left. Maybe it’s twenty seven, I lost count. Whatever gets me to 2051. February of 2051 should be my last one.

Shit… by then the cold thoughts of February 1989 or February 1997 might be fond memories. If we listen to Al Gore or that angry little Greta girl February in the 2050’s might be pool season.

Jeez, I open my curtains this morning and a half inch of snow has me doomed. The gray sky and snowy tree branches are a gorgeous backdrop. I need to enjoy my cup of coffee and the serenity of a snowy Sunday morning.

Mardi Gras and Saint Patrick’s Day are on the doorstep. Memorial Day will be here before we know it. Fireworks on the Fourth of July will soon fill the humid summer sky.

I hope we have more lightning bugs this year. Maybe a few victories down on thirty fifth street. It would be nice if my Speedo fits better in 2023. My thighs are still chaffed from last summer.

As for today…. Enjoy your football games. Enjoy a crockpot of comfort food. Scrape the ice off the windshield and go enjoy a winter day in the city by the lake.

January 21st, 2023

 I wish I had a Buck for every time I was told to act my age. I was told this in a destructive manner. From my mom and dad, nuns and teachers and even my ex wife. All of them at one point told me to act my age.

I occasionally use this term with the Shepkids, but I use it in a constructive way. We are only this age today. Tomorrow we will be an older age. You might as well get a day to be 10 or 17 or 26 or 39 or 62 or 97. I think you’re getting my point.

My best memories of childhood are when my authority figures acted goofy. Reading the funny papers with my Gramma, well that was as wild as she got. listening to my mom play Spike Jones and Doctor Dimento songs on the piano. Seeing my dad disco dance in his boxers when he made his first pot of coffee.

Today’s quote is from Ralph Waldo Emerson. What I take from it is to loosen up and put smiles on faces.

Someday after I’m gone and the adult Shepkids are having a couple Old Styles together, I hope they find time to tell goofy dad stories.

Two years from today we get a new President. I hope she’s better than these last couple clowns.

January 20th, 2023

 Last weekend I was going through the house putting things into the Goodwill box. As I went through Hazel and Fritz’s closet I came across Hazel’s “PJ Masks” toys.

“ ‘PJ Masks’ is for little kids!” Echoed through my thoughts as I put them in the donation pile.

Wednesday when the Redheads were visiting…. Hazel again stated that she was too old to play with these toys. However, Thursday morning the rocket ship and the plastic characters were in my bathtub.

I guess Hazel isn’t quite done playing “PJ Masks” after all?

I placed the little vehicle and the occupants on the top of the toilet and took my shower.

This rocket ship makes ”vroom, vroom” noises and says, “PJ Masks are on their way to save the day!”

Now this fucking toy has been sitting on the top of my shitter quietly since 4:15 yesterday morning. Quietly until 2:20 to 2:24 this morning when it suddenly revved up it’s engines and declared it was saving the day.

Most of you will remember that 2:22am is my Moms Angel number time and that is when she usually stops by to say hello.

That toy sat there for almost 24 hours without a sound until my mom decided to play with it this morning.

I’m happy my mom visits from heaven, but why can’t she wait until a weekend night?

I’ve been up since trying to figure out the purpose for the visit. Are we safe or are we in danger? I know the first thing I'll do when I climb out of bed is put those toys back into the Goodwill box.

Maybe I’ll have to add something new to say after my “Hail Mary” and “Our Father” this morning.

“Super Cat Speed speeding through the night.

Super Owl Wings ready to take flight.

Super Gekko Muscles that can climb the wall.

It's time to be a hero, one and all!

Save the day,

PJ Masks are on their way

Shout hooray!

Work together, and we'll find a way.”

I’m finishing the week knowing Cat, Owl, Gekko and my Mom are protecting me from the evil in this world. So I have that going for me!

January 19th, 2023

           I always talk about setting good examples for the ShepKids. Last night before I climbed into bed I set an example for George.

It was about 8:45pm and George is rustling around in my kitchen. I’m in my bathroom and the door is ajar. I had just washed my face and I’m brushing my teeth. However I’m sitting on the crapper while I brush my teeth.

I don’t usually kill two birds with one stone, but Wednesday night I just happened to do it.

“Dad can I make some popcorn?” ….. are the words I hear as my oldest son appears at the slightly opened bathroom door.

“DAD???? You brush your teeth on the toilet?”

The shock of seeing his Oldman on the crapper brushing his teeth might possibly scar Georgie for life. He stepped back away from the bathroom door and asked again,

“May I have a bag of popcorn please?”

“George it’s getting late… yes, you may. Just brush your teeth when you are done.”

See how I accomplish things as a single father. Setting an example for proper dental hygiene.

I’m looking forward when George’s brother and sister are over this weekend and I overhear…..

“Do you guys know dad brushes his teeth when he poops?”

January 18th, 2023

 We come across so many different characters during the story of life. Through time we see how their roles develops and what part they have in our tale.

Each day we write another page as our life chronicles grow. Each year another chapter… our book finally goes to the editor and gets published posthumously. We are never around for the book signing.

The main characters of our book give the story it’s substance, but it’s the minor roles that might last for a few pages or maybe a chapter or two that fill the book with flavor. They give the book a best seller status.

Once life gets into the fifth or sixth chapter these minor characters start to appear. The neighborhood kids, the nun who taught you cursive, the bully in fourth grade, the girl who let you touch her boobie and even an Uncle who smoked a pipe and had a wall of bowling trophies.

These characters come into the story of life and give it the flavor and color that sticks everything together.

Today is AA Milne’s birthday. He wrote many different things, but we know him best for “Winnie the Pooh.” I loved those stories as a kid and watched every show when it was on television. I read those stories to my children. Fritz had a Winnie the Pooh in his crib.

It wasn’t until recently that I learned the characters from the Hundred Acre Woods all represented a mental health. Hazel told me when we were laying on the couch watching “Christopher Robin.”

Hearing words like dyslexia, eating disorder, anxiety, depression, ADHD and Schizophrenia come out of my daughter’s mouth was terrifying.

Geez, my baby girl is getting smart!

A main character that didn’t enter my story until chapter forty seven just taught me something new.

The only problem with writing our life story is we can’t go back and rewrite chapter eleven or chapter twenty four. We can proofread those chapters, but once the ink dries you can’t erase anything.

Proofreading can bring back great memories and can also stir up the sad ones. All we can do is turn the page and keep writing. Someday the ink will run out and the story will end.

Make sure the reader and the writer are both satisfied when the words “The End” appear.

January 17th, 2023

      I’ll never quote Oprah or a Kennedy on the Morning Chalkboard. Though I’m a Bear fan I’ll quote Vince Lombardi over George Halas. This morning I’m going to quote the classiest person associated with the Dallas Cowboys, since they won last night… Coach Tom Landry.

I’ve seen the healthiest people die unexpectedly in my life. I’ve also seen some unhealthy people live into their eighties. It doesn’t matter if we are on our lowest lows or our highest highs this month… when your feet hit the floor this morning you’ve got a life to live.

It is true, most mornings I say hello to the Devil before I say hello to heaven. It’s because I want his attention when I’m praying. When I’m praying to heaven the devil is mother fucking me. Maybe God doesn’t like my approach and my parents are worried I’ll slip up, but I’ve got a big day ahead of me.

I’ve got 100% of my life left.

I might be two thirds of the way done with my life, but if Coach Landry thinks that I have 100% of my life left I’m gonna bust my ass off today.

You think about this jag off quarterback that was on the losing team last night. As much as many of us dislike the bastard he is the poster child for Coach Tom Landry’s philosophy.

Albeit the NFL is a watered down version of a game we once knew as football. It protects the quarterback so they can live another day. This kid has bettered himself every year. He looks younger and healthier today with the expansion team in Florida than he did when he played for that AFL team in Boston. He realizes every morning he still has 100% of his life left.

Yesterday morning I poached eggs for Hazel. First time she’s ever had her egg that way. The whole time I’m making breakfast I’m thinking I’ve got to live for twenty eight years. I’ve got to make it for twenty eight years so I know for sure Hazel and her brothers will be alright.

Many of us have a plate load of problems right now. Grief, stress, anxiety, illness…. How the hell am I gonna make it right now?

Well I know how the fuck I’m gonna make it.

*I have three kids to set examples for.

* I have friends that need JumboLove.

*I have a heaven that loves me.

*Deceased Parents watching every step I take.

*A devil to piss off daily

*hotdogs to put mustard on, sunrises to watch glitter up the sky, puddles to walk through and red lights to slow me down going to work.

I’m about ready to put my feet on the bedroom floor, make George his lunch and get in Betty the Green Blazer and go to work….

….sounds to me like I have 100% of life to live today!

Hell, I’ve got another losing baseball season to live through!

Go kick Tuesday’s ass and live life with Gusto…..

January 16th, 2023

 The MLK holiday was still a new thing when I started my career. The older guys on the trading floor mumbled about it. My first job was a runner in the grain room. In the late 1980’s the markets were still open on MLK, but closed early.

I was handing a broker some orders before the opening bell. One of the other traders in the pit yelled across, “We should shoot four more of them and get the whole fucking week off!”

Laughter erupted in the pit, but not where I was staring. Over the trading pits were desks perched higher. That is where the market reporters worked. Their job was to report the prices trading in the pit so the quotes can be seen across the world.

The market reporter was a black man and he shook his head in disgust. He heard the comment about shooting four more of them, but what he actually heard instead of four more of them was four more n***ers. What he actually saw were a bunch of white men laughing and there I was standing right in the middle.

Guilty by association….

On the King holiday in 1990 or 1991 I was invited to join a group of traders for lunch after the close. They were going to celebrate the King holiday. I couldn’t understand their giddiness until they told me they were going for barbecued ribs and watermelon shots. Walking down the hall in earshot was that same black market reporter.

Guilty by association…..

I’ve had a Time Machine daydream that gives me the opportunity to change history for the better.

The first trip I’d take is back to the nursery room where baby Adolph is sleeping. I’d suffocate the Hitler baby and change the course of World War II and the Holocaust.

The second trip I’d take is to the balcony of The Lorraine Motel. I’d stop Dr. King for that split second to congratulate him on the “Mountain Top” speech. That split second a bullet rang out in the Memphis sky would miss its target. King could have possibly lived to see the new millennium.

The only job that I have for the King legacy is to teach my kids to cringe when they hear the N word. I think that job has been done. Their generation freaks out whenever they hear racist words. This is a great step in building MLK’s dream. We have come a long way from when my generation was saying,

“Eeny, meeny, miny, moe,

Catch a tiger by the toe.

If he hollers, let him go,

Eeny, meeny, miny, moe.”

Unfortunately when we were picking teams in the 1970’s we were not saying “Tiger.”

I’ve told the Shepkids about picking kick the can teams and they were horrified.

Guilty by association….

January 15th, 2023

 I came across today’s quote and started thinking about what pleases me. The first things that popped up were vices. A good cocktail, a glass of beer, bacon, coffee, naked sleepovers, hotdogs, pizza and cigars. All of these bring me pleasure and none are too expensive.

Since my divorce and then Covid I haven’t been too far from home. Life has gotten pretty simple. The big picture is actually quite small at this point.

…and I’ve realized that this is a good thing.

MLK weekend in the past has brought me great pleasure. Young John Shepley often took advantage of a three day weekend in January. From Bourbon Street to the Vegas Strip or the beaches of Florida… MLK weekend was always a great getaway.

How can this MLK weekend even compare? What pleasure can be found sitting around Riverside with a sixteen year old lurking nearby?

Let’s break it down so far…. I got home from work on Friday and paid a couple bills. I went to a tavern and watched “Jeopardy” with a dear friend. I had a couple glasses of Hamms and a shot of Tullamore Dew.

I went home and made George pork chops and green beans. After I made George dinner I went out and met friends for a cocktail and was home early. I watched movies with George and he made popcorn.

Saturday I got up and walked down the river. I saw a deer, I listened to the splashes of the DesPlaines and I breathed the cold fresh air into my lungs. When I got home I made George scrambled eggs with sausage links. After breakfast I folded laundry, vacuumed, dusted and listened to my shows on WDCB.

Later Saturday afternoon I went to a friends house for football and pizza. I had a couple BuckleDown beers and laughed as we made fun of each other and shot the shit. I had to leave earlier than planned because it was time to feed George again.

So compared to a hurricane at Pat O’Brien's or a crap table at the Desert Inn… how could this MLK weekend ever compare?

The truth is…..

This weekend blows the past out of the water. I find great pleasure in all the things I mentioned. I’ll never be able to replicate the pleasures of my youth, so the routine of a divorced dad is all that I have.….

…and I find great pleasure in it!

I better end this and go watch the sunrise before George wants breakfast. Yesterday I promised him I’d make waffles today.

Did you guys get a chance to see the moon last night? It sailed across the sky early this morning at a southern angle. Seeing it through the bedroom window brought great pleasure.

January 14th, 2023

 Late chalkboard when you fall asleep watching and explaining “Godfather” and “Godfather two” with your sixteen year old son. The best part of waking up in my chair fully clothed is seeing George sleeping on the couch.

George has been with me since late April. He climbed on his bike at 2:00am on a Saturday morning and rode ten miles to my home in Riverside.

George isn’t just watching mafia movies with his oldman. Hopefully he’s learning integrity.

He did learn that the hit on Kennedy and Michael Jordan’s father was made up the road from where we live last night. He also learned that Chicago would be better if the mob was still strong and the Mayor was a Daley.

Teaching integrity, the Chicago way…. And yes. George eats hotdogs with mustard.

Speaking of mustard…. It’s National Pastrami Day! Maybe a trip to Manny’s is just what George needs in his continued education in The Chicago Way…..

January 13th, 2023

        You have to imagine how stressful fifty four years of being Elvis Presley’s daughter really was. This is a celebrity death that doesn’t hit me hard.

Prince, Walter Payton, David Bowie, Robin Williams… those were painful losses.

It happens in three’s most of the time. So who are the other two celebrities that will be tied to Lisa Marie? It sure as hell better not be Willie Nelson! That will be a hard one to take.

Dead Pools were always a New Year tradition on the trading floor. There was some big money thrown around at the expense of pop art life. The trick was picking someone young who didn’t live a volatile lifestyle.

It was easy to pick someone long in the tooth, but if you parlayed a long shot into your selections… you’d win a nice chunk of change. Someone picked the girl from TLC and made a boatload of money one year. It will go down in Chicago Board of Trade history, “the Rosemary Clooney, Mayor Bilandic, “Lisa “Left Eye” Lopes Dead Pool.” I know I was in the running because I took Dudley Moore that year.

Today in Boston a statue will be unveiled before the MLK weekend. It’s a bronze statue of arms. The arms of Doctor King and his wife Coretta. It is designed after the embrace Mrs King gave here husband after he won the Nobel prize for peace.

Speaking of embracing…. I’ll continue to embrace this weather tightly. Very little snow and one Arctic blast so far this winter. I know we are going to get jagged over in March or April. We are going to pay the price for a mild winter in someway. Probably at the Saint Patrick’s Day parade when it is twelve degrees and my Guinness freezes up.

Have a great Friday and don’t worry about today’s date.

January 12th, 2023

I guess if you’re going to have a Led Zeppelin song dance in your head, “Tangerine” isn’t a bad pick.

The dreaded earworm!

We have CNBC on all day at work and they constantly run the “Kars for Kids” commercial. Nothing worse than trying to concentrate while having …. “1-877 Kars for Kids, donate your car today!” Zipping through your head while your boss is yelling at you to sell a thousand call spreads.

Lately I’ve been getting hit with…. “Walter E. Smithe you dream it, we’ll build it” during the trading day. That reminds me, I need to find George a bigger bed.

Anyway, earworms….. Led Zeppelin good, Air Supply not so good.

A lot of times when I get whacked with a bad earworm I start singing “Bear Down, Chicago Bears” or “Superbowl Shuffle.” Though I start crying when I sing the Walter Payton stanza of “Shuffle.” The loss of a boyhood idol is never easy on a grown sensitive Bear fan.

It’s Thursday…. If you have an old car, donate it. If you need a new sectional or nightstand, call the hotties at the fancy furniture store. If you have a Whitney Houston earworm running through your head call the Dream Police instead.

And with that thought, I leave you with this earworm…..

“Cause they're waiting for me

They're looking for me

Every single night they're driving me insane

Those men inside my brain

The dream police, they live inside of my head

The dream police, they come to me in my bed

The dream police, they're coming to arrest me….”

Thursday, January 12th has suddenly become Cheap Trick Earworm Day!

Get up out of bed and get this Thursday started. Because…mommies alright, daddies alright, they just seam a little weird.

January 11th, 2023

 If you look at today’s quote there is one thing that holds everything together…. Naps…. An afternoon nap can make a huge difference on how you make the past become today so you can live for another tomorrow.

I get asked all the time how I hold it together sleeping five maybe six hours every night.

It’s easy… I get home after the market closes and I sit in my chair and I say, “Siri, set a timer for thirty five minutes please” and Siri replies in a sexy British accent, “timer set for 35 minutes Jumbo, enjoy your nap.”

Twenty years ago I was at my fiancé’s Christmas party for the ski shop in Hensdale that she worked at during Christmas. She had been working there since she was in high school.

It was set in a nice chalet located at Katherine Legge Park out there near Hensdale. In fact eighteen months later we would be back there to take our wedding pictures in the park. Several years after that we’d go sledding with little Shepkids on the hills.

About two cocktails into this fancy ski shop party I found myself involved in a conversation with Terri and a longtime customer of the store. A Cougar who was about the age I am now. A put together nicely Hensdale divorcee. She just couldn’t get over the fact that I was eleven years older than my fiancé. I was thirty six at the time and my future wife was twenty five.

“Oh please tell me the secret! You both look like you are in your mid twenties… I need to know how you do it John.”

Here I am two Manhattans into a party that I didn’t want to be at. A sexy cougar is asking me how I do it and is flirting with an oiled up JumboLove in front of his fiancé?

I wiped the bourbon off of my top lip slowly and I lean forward to Karen Livingston and I tell her that I take afternoon naps. At that period in my life they were closer to sixty minutes long. I didn’t just tell her I take naps though….

“Well Karen, you want to know my secret?” I can feel my future wife stiffening up next to me as Karen leans closer to me.

“Oh yes, yes please tell me!”

“Karen, it’s real simple. Before I take my nap I rub one off real quick and then I fall asleep for an hour.”

Before the last words of that sentence floated to the ground Karen was gone. She snapped her boots like a soldier guarding the Tomb of the Unknown and marched off to the bar.

My job here was done and my fiancé was flaming mad at me. She couldn’t understand why I would say that to her customer. She told me she’d never say anything like that if it was a Christmas party for my company.

My company was a trading floor! They would love it if you told them you masturbate before every nap. My customers would tell me to marry this girl on the hop.

Needless to say I dropped my fiancé off at her parents house in Hensdale about an hour later and was at Shanahan's having a cocktail with my buddies soon after.

When I walked into my local bar in a sport coat and slacks I was immediately ridiculed.

“Jeez Shep! You start dating a girl from the other side of Mannheim Road and you get all fancy!”

Naps… I took them in the past. I took one yesterday and I sure as hell will be taking them as I get older. Naps are what keeps life moving smoothly. They keep you young.

Today is National Hot Toddy day. When I was a kid my mommy or gramma didn’t rush me to a Doc in the Box. They poured me a double Hot Toddy and rubbed Vicks Vapor rub on my chest. I was at school the next day.

Old School Baby! This also prepared me for many Unemployment evenings when we’d go out boozing the night before a 7:30 number.

Next time you are feeling sick, get the Old Grandad out of the medicine cabinet and feel better immediately.

January 10th, 2023

      It is 1:27am on a Tuesday morning and I just left a crowded restaurant. I was sitting at a table with new friends, old friends and family and friends who were visiting from heaven.

The restaurant was an old place that’s been torn down since the early 1990’s called Sauers. It was an old Bierstube located around 2300 south off of Michigan Avenue. It was a Don Shepley joint. A place where he ordered an extra beer for the table that was cleverly placed near his teenage son.

These last couple nights have taken me to the north side of Indianapolis and the near Southside of Chicago. I don’t think it has anything to do with me, but what my purpose is for others.

I’ve been laying here for ten minutes thinking how I’m going to pull this next paragraph out of my rear end.

So here goes…..

Over the weekend someone very dear to me experienced tragedy. A friend that has put up with my shenanigans the last five years. A friend that’s been there more often for me than me for them. A friend that needs the straight F’s. Faith, Family and Friends….

I talk to Don and Ceil, Mary and Jesus often about my friend. They were at Sauers this morning eating dinner with me. I’m not sure why I woke up from a great dinner with an interesting group. I know at one point in the conversation the tragic event that occurred over the weekend was mentioned.

The older we get the more opportunities to experience loss. My age group is losing parents left and right. We are losing siblings and colleagues and some of us have lost a child.

Every other Sunday my redheads leave me. They leave the comfort of my arms and the warmth of my home. Every other Sunday I sit in Betty or on the couch and grieve. Fortunately Hazel and Fritz come home and see George and I every Wednesday. Then I grieve again Wednesday night after they leave.

Every other Sunday and every Wednesday I’m saddened with loss, but they are still around next week to love and cherish. They come back so I can make pancakes for them and prepare showers for them and sing “Moon River” for them.

My dear friends whose children were just having dinner at Sauers with me don’t come home on Wednesdays and every other weekend. It’s comforting to know Don ordered beers for them at dinner tonight.

I’m a weirdo that talks to my parents while I’m grocery shopping. I’m the weirdo looking at the stars that have become symbols for lost souls. I’m the weirdo waking up before the bars are closed to pray with a Jewish virgin while I’m laying in my underwear.

I’m not sure why I was running through Broad Ripple yesterday or having a late night dinner near Soldier Field an hour ago.

We all have a ton of stress and grief to deal with these days. Sharing it with each other through support, prayer and love is all we have.

If they can do it on a football field in Cincinnati we can do it in the bread aisle at The Jewels and Kroger’s.

2023 is the new beginning for Support, Prayer and Love. Just try not to wake up in the middle of the night too often.

January 9th, 2023

 This is the first Monday in three weeks that I have to work. Next Monday the markets are closed again for a National Holiday.

I don’t hate Mondays, I just hate Sunday night anxiety. If I hear that stop watch on “60 Minutes” I go into a state of anxiousness.

I’ve got these bills to pay this week. I’ve got a meeting after work on Tuesday. Do I have bread to make George a sandwich for his lunch? Betty the Green Blazer needs new tires. I’m standing in the hall at Cathedral high school in my underwear. My tuxedo will be too tight for Hazel’s wedding next weekend….. on and on!

This morning at 2:46am I was running down Indianola Avenue towards 61st street. It was a sunny afternoon and George was with me. We suddenly left my ex in laws at my Grammas house, with my Gramma! Indianola is in Broad Ripple, a neighborhood in Indianapolis.

I’ve been up ever since…

All night as I tossed and turned, David Bowie was having a concert in my noggin. I shouldn’t complain… on a Sunday night early Monday morning last October it was Christopher Cross. That was not an exceptionally fun night as I was taken away in a sailboat.

George’s lunch is packed, my bowl of oatmeal is ready and the chalkboard will be done by 4:00am.

I looked at a couple of the text chains that I muted on Sunday. The common theme was Lovie Smith should be credited with one more victory as head coach of the Chicago Bears. Another chat was about a kid on the Go Go White Sox with cancer. No Sunday chat is ever complete without one of my buddies calling someone a C word. I’m all caught up.

I must end this anxious ramble on the Monday morning Chalkboard…. Enjoy the above average temperatures in Chicagoland this week. Believe me, we will pay for it sooner than later.