I was sitting with a group of friends recently talking about ringing in the ears. Another one of those conversations that we have that comes with getting older.
I’ve had the ringing in the ears for a long time. I’ve never been able to pinpoint the cause of it and there really isn’t a cure for it.
I probably have it after years of working on a trading floor and I’ve noticed it gets worse when the stress level is high.
Maybe it could be too much salt? I did conclude it isn’t alcohol. My ears still rang during my seventy five day period of no booze last spring.
I don’t know why I just wasted four paragraphs on Tinnitus, but I woke up from a night of weird dreams with tornado sirens going off in my big noggin.
So let’s talk about fried chicken!
Today is National Fried Chicken Day. I’m not a big fried chicken guy. I don’t have a place that I go out of my way to get fried chicken. I’ve got places like that for an Italian beef or a pizza or a hotdog, but not fried chicken.
When I think of fried chicken I think of that great baseball announcer, Harry Caray.
“Hey….after the Sox game why don’t you head over to “Chicken Unlimited” for a bucket of Chicken and wash it down with some cold Falstaff.”
I couldn’t wait to be an adult and get some chicken and beer after a Sox game.
Once I became an adult Harry Caray was with the Cubs. Falstaff closed down the brewery. “Chicken Unlimited” went out of business and Comiskey Park was torn down.
I think I’m going to go out of my way today and go to the old Parkys across from the Jewels on Roosevelt. The hotdog stand that became “BigGuys” is now called “Berwyn Chicken Co.”
Maybe this will finally be the place that I go to for fried chicken?
It’s already Thursday, but to me it feels like it’s only Thursday.
Go put some good in the awkwardly disturbing world we are living in!
Get some fried chicken and listen to the ballgame on the radio!
