November 30th, 2024

       I chalked down this quote without having any idea of how to approach it.

I looked at it for five minutes and then I got that kick in the ass feeling my dad shoots down from heaven on occasion.

Life is rigged in our favor if we have faith. Not just faith in a powerful force that offers eternal life, but faith in ourselves.

When I say faith in ourselves, I don’t mean confidence. Faith comes before confidence.

My Oldman always said, “you can’t love anything, if you don’t love yourself.”

I don’t think you can start loving without faith.

Love is one of many things that comes after faith. Faith is the first rock in our foundation. Once I developed faith in myself, I became closer to Heaven and then love, confidence and maturity followed in suit.

Some people can count cards, some people have a lucky horseshoe shoved up their ass and some people know when to hold them and know when to fold them.

Sometimes life deals us with a bad hand, faith has nothing to do with a bad hand. Faith has everything to do with overcoming that bad hand.

Live life with faith and you’ll be blessed with favor.

The moon is in its waning crescent and is preparing for the next cycle of fullness. In two weeks, it will be big and bright.

Just like the sun, always know where the moon is in your life. The length of our shadow at noon and the brightness of the stars at midnight can’t be taken for granted.

The knowledge of both gives us the balance needed as we find faith in ourselves.

I’ll leave you with this…

The bulk of Chalkhead Nation is either a Chicagoan or a Hoosier.

Is it a pothole or a chuckhole?

November 29th, 2023

 We have a Joan Rivers Day for Today’s Morning Chalkboard. Joan always stepped in and hosted “The Tonight Show” when Johnny Carson needed a night off.

It is the Best of November 29th this morning. I got up, looked at the Chalkboard hanging in the kitchen and I just didn’t have the heart to put Mr. Jive Turkey away until next year.

I woke up at 3:30 on a day when the grain markets don’t open until 8:30 this morning.

Most weeknights the market is open overnight and I’m on call if someone needs to sell a couple thousand December Corn contracts or buy a thousand November Beans.

I long for the day when the bond pit opened at 7:20am and the bean pit opened at 9:30am.

I can still remember my first opening bell way back when Ronald Reagan was President.

I had a grey trading jacket with yellow piping for Index Trading. My cousin Chucky got me the job. We walked onto the grain floor and sitting at the door was a guard who was easily ninety years old. It was Mr. Mansfield and he knew it was my first day. He welcomed me to the Chicago Board of Trade and wished me luck.

I walked through the door and onto the brightly lit trading floor with quote boards lining the walls.

The head runner took me around and introduced me to the brokers standing in each pit. The corn pit, the bean pit, the wheat pit, the meal pit, the soybean oil pit and each of the pits had several brokers that I needed to remember.

I was intimidated and as I nervously settled in….

…the opening bell went off and the room erupted with loud screaming voices and flailing arms swinging back and forth.

All of those pits are long gone. So are the brokers and the runners and the market reporters.

It was the best job for a twenty-year-old boy. I’m thankful that I’m still in the same industry almost forty years later. Instead of getting on the Lake Street and heading into the loop, I’ll be climbing into Betty the Green Blazer and driving out to OakBrook.

But low and sell high baby!

Enjoy the day after Thanksgiving and find something astonishing to be thankful for

November 28th, 2024

 Jive Turkey hasn’t been around for the last couple Thanksgiving Chalkboards.

Mr. Jive Turkey is the subtle reminder not to be a jagoff on Thanksgiving.

Thanksgiving through the years has gathered a collective memory from all the Thanksgivings from the past.

All of the parades, the TurkeyBowls, the green bean casseroles, the conversations, the turkey carvings, the leftovers and the pumpkin pies have all blurred together into Thanksgiving past.

Except…….

Except when someone was a Jagoff during Thanksgiving Day.

Nobody can remember what year they twisted their knee catching a pass or what year the dog grabbed a turkey leg off the counter…

Butt…..

Everyone remembers that it was 1974 when Aunt Gladys was mouthing off about Nixon. Everyone remembers Uncle Clyde throwing the chip bowl at the television when the Lions scored 55 points on the Bears in 1997.

Everyone remembers the Jive Turkey on Thanksgiving.

Nobody cares that Kamala is an idiot. Nobody cares that Trump is putting a tariff on the world. Nobody cares if Pritzker is running for President in 2028. Nobody cares if you think the turkey is dry or the pie tastes to cinamminy…

Watch the Bear game and cheer when they score and boo when they fumble. Nobody cares what kind of offensive scheme YOU would run if you coached the Bears. You coached the fourth-grade receivers at Saint Basils for one season. That is all the coaching experience that you have.

Put a lid on it Coach Lombardi!

Cousin Martha’s mashed potatoes are lumpy again this year. What do you expect, they have been lumpy since 2003?!?!

Repeat after me, “Martha! You’ve outdone yourself again this year! The buttery texture and the hint of garlic amazes me every Thanksgiving!”

Complement your cousin Martha every year and eventually it will turn into a collection of Thanksgiving memories. Memories that made Martha happy and make you her favorite cousin.

Unlike in 2017 when your Uncle Bobby told his daughter the mashed potatoes had clumps of marshmallows in them. That was a jagoff thing to say.

Enjoy the company and the love of family and friends today. Let’s leave the Jive Turkey on the Morning Chalkboard.

I wish that I could shake your hand today. I wish I could high five you today. I wish that I could do the Covid Elbow with you today. I wish that I could chest bump with you today. I wish I could hug you today. I wish that I could hold you and kiss your cheek today.

Sometimes Thanksgivings are about those that aren’t standing in front of the television set or sitting at the dining room table. Those who might not have been able to make the trip from the coast and those who left for heaven and will never eat Cousin Martha’s lumpy mashed potatoes ever again.

Hug them if you got them. Remember them fondly if you don’t.

Happy Thanksgiving Chalkheads

November 27th, 2024

    I went ahead and did it. I watched the first Christmas movie of the season last night. A nice quiet evening with Hugh Grant and Hans Gruber. I sat alone in my chair with a glass of bourbon and “Love Actually.”

The movie ends with The Beach Boys song that I chalked for today’s quote. A fitting tune for the finale that made me wonder as I prepared for nighty-nighttime.

Only God knows how our lives would be without each other. I don’t think the big man upstairs has everything planned out for us. I believe our journey is determined by fate and our own decisions.

Through the years, the first song on side two of “Pet Sounds” has evolved and changed perspective as I’ve gotten older.

The first person God knew about was my mommy. I was in the middle of her nurturing when this song popped into my life.

Then it was the flaming red head from North Oak Park that filled my heart with love. God can see the void in my life if the sparks from the early nineties didn’t exist. A flame that still exists thirty years later in an everlasting friendship.

Here comes the new millennium and the gorgeous Jayhawk out of Hinsdale. If I never did the Rock Chalk with her, I’d never have the dearest and most precious parts in my life.

God only knows what I’d be without the Shepkids. Probably a washed up obituary writer for the Times/Picayune that bartends at a dive in the French Quarter.

Maybe I’d still live all alone in Oak Park stewing over this horrible Bears team and the 121 losses last summer?

Only God knows where I’d be without the friends and love that I’ve gathered up through the last six decades.

Jeez…. Six decades!?!?!?

Two things I’d recommend from “The Jumbo List of important stuff.”

Make sure “Love Actually” is in your Christmas movie rotation.

Also, listen to The Beach Boys album, “Pet Sounds.” It is probably one of the best albums in the history of rock and roll. Brian Wilson orchestrated a collection of words and arrangements that will move your soul.

It is Thanksgiving Eve… don’t go down to Ceres after the market closes and start drinking martinis. I did that in the late nineties and God only knows what I missed out on because of that bad decision.

Is your turkey doing the brine?

Are you getting excited or a little anxious?

Enjoy your Thanksgiving Eve.

Tomorrow morning starts with a mimosa, a couple Advil, a layer of Bengay on the ankles and knees and the first TurkeyBowl in my new Dick Butkus jersey.

I’m making my goat cheese stuffed dates, wrapped in bacon and drizzled with a rosemary honey glaze.

I’ll be taking that to my flaming red head’s house from the early nineties. The one that only God knows what I’d be like without her friendship.

Always be astonished at who comes, goes and stays in your life…

November 26th, 2024

 We are just starting the holiday season, but I wanted to see when Opening Day is next season.

The White Sox open up on Thursday, March 27th next year. It will be the earliest first pitch in the history of the MLB. Their opening day opponent are the Los Angeles Angels who I still refer to as the California Angels. I really miss when there were only 26 teams.

Baseball isn’t supposed to start during Spring Break. Baseball is supposed to start when everyone turns in their taxes. Who wants to watch horrible baseball when it’s forty-two degrees?

And forty-two degrees in late March cuts like a knife. Twenty-eight year old John Shepley would shrug it off and say, “at least our beers will stay cold!”

Fifty-eight year old John Shepley doesn’t enjoy a cold hotdog.

Why did I even look up the date for Opening Day?

I’m supposed to be baking a pumpkin pie and peeling potatoes for mashing this week.

People are worried about glaciers melting or the tons of straws and milk jugs floating in the Pacific.

I’m more worried about baseball starting a month before Easter and ending a week and a half after Halloween.

A Sox fan shouldn’t worry about getting mustard on his parka. Mustard needs to splatter on a shirt. I don’t mind wearing a sweatshirt or a windbreaker to an early season ballgame. I don’t want to sit along the third baseline dressed for a ski trip.

We need more doubleheaders in June and not opening days in March.

I’ve gotten carried away with going to Comiskey Park before April Fool's Day that I lost track on today’s quote.

Here goes….

…. you were an idiot in the 90’s! You’ll still be able to go to heaven.

Unless you put ketchup on your hotdog on Opening Day. Then you’ll never worry about the cold where you’re going.

If you have a big turkey, you better be thawing it out right now…

… and let the week of Thanksgiving bring astonishment

November 25th, 2024

 It is the Monday of Thanksgiving week. Plans are getting worked out. Traveling is about to begin and nerves are starting to get tight.

Do your part and keep your mouth shut. It’s going to be cold on Thursday. If you are over fifty and scheduled to start in The Turkey Bowl, start stretching today.

I love this week.

I left Santa’s number in the Grabber section. Call him and let him know what you need.

Get your steps in now, so you have room for that turkey sandwich on white bread Thursday night.

Food glorious food

November 24th, 2024

In just over a month, we will be writing 2025 on checks. Well, the few of us that still write checks will be.

We are already a quarter of the way into what many of us knew as the “new” millennium. It was a brand new century that began with the worrying of Y2K.

When I was a kid back in the 1970’s, I did the math to see how old I would be on January 1st of 2000. I was going to be really old when the Twentieth Century ended, thirty-three. Then in July of 2000, I would turn thirty-four.

The bicentennial came and went. Partying like it was 1999, came and went. George W. came and went, Obama did the as well.

Everything comes and goes. Next year America celebrates its semiquincentennial. That isn't as marketable as bicentennial. All I know about this semiquincentennial, it will come and go.

All of this coming and going gives life a constant flow. Constant flow is good, leave the damn building to the beavers. If you can’t deal with coming and going, you’ll live in the past…

…and fuck yeah, I’d love to visit the past and invest in a few things differently. Unfortunately, I can’t do that.

So, coming and going it is.

Some of us will be unpacking Christmas tree lights this week. Some of us will come across a strand or two that are tangled up like the Eisenhower during rush hour.

Keep your cool… Christmas preparation comes and goes.

In thirty-eight days, it will be twenty-five years since we wrote “19__” on our documents. In thirty-eight days, we will be fifty years away from 1975.

1975! What does 1975 remind you of?

For me, 1975 was when I met a running back who exemplified how to live life. His name was Sweetness.

Lower your shoulders, bow your neck and knock that somabitch on his ass. Life won’t give you a good block, neither will Noah Jackson.

Some years we get the first down. Some years we run out of bounds. Some years we cross into the end zone. It is in those years when we claw for a first down that determines our true outcome.

It’s what the old schoolboys call “gut check.”

1975, 1985, 1995, 2005, 2015 all had obstacles, all had astonishment, all came and went.

Keep your cool and learn to let it come and let it go.

Or like the great Johnnie Taylor once sang, “Shake it up, shake it down, move it in, move it round, disco lady. Push it in, pull it out

move it in, round about disco lady.”

Good words to live by….

November 23rd, 2024

 The weekend before Thanksgiving has arrived and it’s a late one this year.

Don’t stress out

Get things done and find time to enjoy life. In my neighborhood today we celebrate the life of a dear person who recently went to heaven and we celebrate the birthday of George, Fritz and Hazel’s gramma, JoJo….

…Who just happens to be my mother-in-law. We get along better now than we did when I was married to her daughter.

Perfect day to give thanks for the people that have touched our lives.

Happy Thanksgiving Week!

Thaw them, brine them, butter them and stuff them

November 22nd, 2024

 

November 21st, 2024

 The longer we spend time together, the tighter we become. We share eras together, we spend time frames together, we spend the ages together. We spend a decade together. We spend these lives together.

This is and was our time together and it will never return.

I had a good friend that I was inseparable from in the mid 1980’s. I haven’t seen him in years, but that time together was ours.

I worked with a group of people from the mid-nineties into the new millennium. We screamed at each other on the trading floor. We shared meals together. We traveled together. We started families together and we watched airplanes crash into buildings together.

I haven’t worked with that group in almost twenty years, but that era will always be something we share.

There is only one person who I stood next to in a delivery room. We did it three times and the rest is history. We also stood on an altar and told God that we loved each other.

That love is long gone, but the three lives we made are a testimony that only the two of us share.

When we were kids, most of the people that we spent time with were born within months of each other.

As we get older our friendships are with people that span the ages. I have a friend that was in college when I was playing little league. I have a friend that was born when I was in high school.

Our common bond is the age that we are spending together right now. This is our only time together.

We shared life with people that lived during both World Wars. We shared life together with people who voted for Nixon, people that drove Oldsmobiles and people that wore parachute pants and Doc Martens.

Just recently we went through a pandemic together. We just went to each others weddings. Lately we’ve been burying each other’s parents.

This is the dawn and the dusk that only we share.

This is our time together and it will soon be gone.

Time was given to us and it is being taken away from us. This is our time together, embrace it and hold it tight.

I’m a week away from my first Christmas movie and my first Christmas song. I haven’t decided on the first movie yet, but the song will be by The Pogues.

93.9FM started their Christmas playlist with Mariah Carey. I’m going with “Fairytale in New York.”

One week from today is the day of giving thanks.

Be astonished together, it’s our time

November 20th, 2024

 Today I’m going to call a place where George filled out a job application.

I’m going to ask for the hiring manager and explain the situation.

My son filled out a job application last week. He didn’t have much to put on it and he didn’t know his social security number. The person that took that application told my son that he can produce it at the job interview.

I’m going to tell this person that my son is highly functioning on the autistic spectrum. I’m going to guess his application was passed over.

Here is the big favor… can you call him and tell him you are going with a more experienced candidate?

This way it will build his confidence and be a constructive experience as he prepares to enter the workforce.

Suddenly I have become something I thought I’d never be. Someone that I mocked in the past, A Helicopter Parent.

A parent that hovers over every move their child makes.

I need my oldest son to experience disappointment and setbacks in life, but I need to bubble wrap him in the process.

One of the gifts that the autistic spectrum has given George is a stoic view of his world. He doesn’t get sad and he doesn’t get happy. When he has an outburst, it is quick and it doesn’t linger.

I just think a phone call from the place he left his application will give him a positive outlook.

He filled out an application at the grocery store in town earlier in the year. He had a job interview with the manager and was never called back. He isn’t sad or happy about it, but he is still disenchanted over how it was handled.

I don’t want that to happen again.

George will find a niche and do well at whatever it is. It will all work out for him, but in the meantime, I’m hovering over my son and keeping him from hitting the hard edges.

The cloudy weather over the weekend kept me from getting a clear view of the November full moon. It is already fading away from its brightest point. I always come away a little disappointed when this happens. I guess I need to find the Joni Mitchell inside me and figure out both sides now.

It is already Wednesday and the hump is high this week. Lower the shoulders, bow the neck and fight through. A week from tomorrow is Turkey Day.

Pound sand and be astonished

November 19th, 2024

 I have a couple things that I regret, but I can’t worry about them right now. I figure the day will come when I get into a hot tub time machine. Then I will take the opportunity to change around the regrettable situations.

Put the car in drive, hit the gas and use your windshield. The rear view mirror is only to glance at.

One of the city anthems of Chicago mentions Billy Sunday as the guy who tried to shut down our toddling town. I’m sure he had some regrets in life. Today is his birthday and he was no fun. Today is also Mary Clare Spellacy’s birthday and she is a ton of fun. Happy birthday Spaz.

Let’s get out there and be astonished

November 18th, 2024

 My Oldman knew right away if I wasn’t telling the truth. He would say you can’t bullshit a bullshitter.

You can have the deepest faith and be the kindest person, but if you lack integrity…

…it’s a wash. It doesn’t count.

You can lie to everyone else. You can take the liberty of bullshitting everyone else, but you can’t lie or bullshit yourself.

The truth is always faster.

Today is Johnny Mercer Day. “Skylark” is a tune of his that I am partial to. Though he helped Henry Mancini with “Moonriver” and that is the night-night song that I sing to Hazel.

Someday it might be the song we dance to at her wedding. Many years from now if you ever read this daughter!

Today is Monday, Monday and a rainy day at that. Makes me think of Mama Cass and Karen Carpenter. Two people that never got in an argument over a sandwich.

I’m here all week. Please tip your waitress and the bartender on your way out.

November 17th, 2024

 My parents had one of those big console stereos in the living room when I was a kid. It was under the front picture window most of the year. The only time it wasn’t was at Christmas time when the tree took its place.

Next to it was a wooden case that my father built and stained to match the console.

My parents probably had forty, fifty maybe sixty record albums that I couldn’t touch. If I touched a single album, I would be the first person to know what next week will be like.

It was the early 1970’s. All of the singer songwriters of that period were represented. Carole King, James Taylor, Jim Croce and Judy Collins. They listened to jazz singers like Sinatra, Prima and Ella. Classical music from Dvorak to Chopin. My dad was partial to George Gershwin and my mom enjoyed Scott Joplin. Dad liked British marching bands and mom liked Gregorian Chant.

The one genre that was well represented was modern Broadway musicals. The one I was partial to was “Man of LaMancha.”

I knew the lyrics to “The Impossible Dream” backwards and forwards. I would stand on the coffee table and sing it with Richard Kiley. It was the first time that I remember both of my parents applauding me.

Not only did I know the lyrics, but the words became an anthem for Don and Cecilia’s only child.

Before Walter Payton I had Don Quixote. He taught me to persevere and fight the odds. That everything is obtainable if you have hope and stand up for your values.

I have such grand memories of laying on the living room floor and escaping to The Spanish Inquisition or King Arthur’s Camelot. I would run down hills listening to the sound of music. Look up on the roof for a fiddler. Join a band with seventy-six trombones or meet a beautiful girl named Maria.

Happy Sunday Funday. It is Bear/Packer Day. I’m going over to pick up a book at the library and maybe watch cooking shows on PBS. I won’t watch the Packers slap the snot out of the Bears.

The best holiday of the year is just eleven days away. I can’t wait to hear George Winston and put on my new Dick Butkus jersey first thing Thanksgiving morning.

Get your Christmas lights up today and enjoy them. On January sixth when the three kings arrive, you’ll have to take them down.

Never give up your quest to pursue your impossible dream.

November 16th, 2024

 Last night was a kick in the jaw to 1966. Mike Tyson was born on Thursday, June 30th and I was born on Friday the first of July.

I felt my age and then some when the baddest, meanest man from 1966 lost a fight Friday night.

I watched the horrible Netflix coverage with Hazel. She knows the kid Tyson fought from YouTube. Sitting with my daughter watching the boxing match reminded me of all the fights I watched with my Oldman in the 1970’s. The golden age of boxing with Ali, Frazier, Foreman, Norton, Holmes and Spinks.

Speaking of the Oldman, today is his 89th birthday. I’m sure he got up and watched military marching bands before going to breakfast at Gossage Grill. Then ran errands and got new windshield wipers on the Dadillac. Listening to the farm report and Bob Collins on WGN, old Jack Benny shows on WNIB and then Dick Buckley’s jazz show on the car radio.

The first July 1st that I spend in heaven will probably be with my grandparents and parents. Then depending on how many of my buddies are already up there…

…get a pickup game of baseball followed with lunch at The Billygoat.

Today’s quote comes from Hemingway. My Oldman used this quote as part of his “how to raise a good man” plan.

You can judge a man by the way he finishes the job and how he handles pressure.

“Courage is grace under pressure Moose…”

The middle weekend of November. Go get new wipers on your car before winter sets in.

There isn’t a sun with a smile on the board today, but that doesn’t mean you can’t search for astonishment

November 15th, 2024

  This was a quote that my dad used often. It is credited to one of his boyhood idols, Sir Winston Churchill.

He often told me that we don’t have time in life to be sad. Lower your shoulders, bow your neck and rumble through any detour life puts in your way.

He also quipped that the Shepley butt won’t allow you to hurdle your problems, so stampede instead.

In the next hour after I finish today’s Morning Chalkboard, I will complete a half dozen “Hail Mary’s,” several “Our Father’s” and a “Glory Be.”

I will also bang out several “God Dangit’s,” many “MFers” and a couple “jagoffs.”

I pray a shit ton and swear about the same amount. I worked on a trading floor for five decades. Lots of praying and swearing in those open outcry markets.

In fact the other day, a guy cut me off on 31st street while I was smack dab in the middle of a “Hail Mary”….

… “Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us ‘you gotta be shitting me with this jagoff; use your fucking directional’ sinners now and at the hour of our death, amen.”

I wonder if the Virgin Mary winced when she heard that prayer? At least I didn’t skip the beat.

Anyway…. pray, swear, maul through and stand up and fight. Life is too short to be melancholy.

Here we are in the middle of November and the moon is full.

…And on the subject of the full moon. I will show my sophomoric tendencies and point out that the November Full Moon is called the Beaver Moon, my favorite. It’s called the Beaver Moon because the cute little beavs are building their dams before winter sets in. I love those cute little beavers.

Not only is the Blessed Mother of God wincing right now, but I’m sure my mother-in-law is shrugging her shoulders.

Speaking of my mother-in-law and then we need to end this Chalkboard. She buried her husband’s ashes on Monday. My father-in-law is two stones down from Stan Mikita.

How awesome is that?

I find it astonishing

November 14th, 2024

 When I was a young Man I could afford to say that one day I will do this or do that. One day I’m going to go there and see that.

I’m getting closer to being an older man today and the days have become Day One.

Today is Day One of me balancing my checkbook. Today is Day One of me putting cayenne and turmeric in my coffee. Today is Day One of reading “War and Peace.” Today is Day One of jogging a mile before work.

I don’t know if today is another day one or if it’s the day after tomorrow. All I know is it’s another day of being blessed and loved.

Like the sitcom from the seventies, I take it one day at a time.

I’m not going to put the cart in front of the horse over here. We still have Thanksgiving, Christmas and Hanukkah to get through, but 2025 is less than fifty days away.

There are going to be a shit ton of Day Ones in forty eight days.

My goal for 2025 is to keep on loving you. Because it is the only thing that I would like to do. I might not even go to sleep because I just want keep on loving you.

Enjoy your REO Speedwagon earworm and try and remember that today is Day One of be astounded

November 13th, 2024

 My dad and I planted an elm tree in the front yard in 1984. I drove past the old house last weekend to see how things were growing.

Standing tall in front of 220, still holding most of her foliage late into autumn. Towering over the house that was once our home.

I’ve watched that tree grow for forty years, the last fifteen of them as a visitor. The elm’s canopy covers the entire yard and shades the front porch from the afternoon sun.

Just like my dad had planned.

I make the drive through the old neighborhood so often that it has planted a reoccurring dream.

I often dream that I park the car and walk under the elm and into the front door. I have a sense of security, but know that it won’t last. I don’t belong there. Everyone is gone that once lived there, but no one is around, so I become a squatter and look for the comfort of my old bed.

I always leave before I get caught or before my dad comes home.

Today is Dream Destination Day. My dream was once England or Scotland or France. I always wanted to retire to New Orleans and become a writer. Maybe a small farm in southern Indiana with a farmhouse and a small barn.

Nowadays my dream destination is The Edgewater Beach Apartments with a mid century style apartment. I want to be near the lake and in the neighborhood where I first lived.

Do you have a dream destination?

Do you have something from your life that will outlast you?

The weather guy here at The Morning Chalkboard is calling for an overcast day. Seems the fifty degree highs are settling in on time before Thanksgiving.

Climb over the hump and find accomplishment today. Someday your legacy will leave something astounding

November 12th, 2024

 There was a time at the beginning of my career when I didn’t see Veterans Day for what it was.

The Board of Trade was always closed and I took it as an opportunity to kick start the Holiday season with a night out on the town.

On a Veterans Day Eve in the early 1990’s I went to Ceres located in the lobby under the trading floor. Ceres is known for the strongest cocktails in the Loop.

From Ceres to Gene & Georgetti to Redhead Piano bar…

…then the long cab ride back to the neighborhood for a nightcap.

I woke up on my couch Veterans Day morning to my answering machine going off. My dad sounded pissed and I suddenly realized that I listened to several pissed off dad messages when I got home a couple hours earlier.

I had plans to attend a ceremony at nine o’clock in the morning with my dad. It was 7:05am and I needed to be dressed and out the door at 7:30am.

I opened the door to the Dadillac and a cloud of Marlboro cigarette smoke waifed towards me. It was 7:31 and I was greeted with a …

…“You’re Late!”

Then I was asked if I received the fifteen text messages that my dad left the last fifteen hours.

Then my dad realized I was still shitfaced from the night before.

He wasn’t happy.

He was dressed up in tweed with his poppy pin on his lapel. That was the day I realized the importance of Veterans Day.

I received that poppy pin before my dad died and I wore it yesterday.

Would I do it all over again?

Well…..

I miss the trading floor. I miss going down to Ceres after the close, but most of all…

…I miss my Oldman.

I even miss getting into the ashtray of a car that I nicknamed the Dadillac.

That Veterans Day when I heard the National Anthem, Taps, prayers and tributes…

… it gave me a strong understanding of Faith and Country.

Now I have my Dad’s Poppy lapel pin that he proudly wore.

Thank you dad for one of many life lessons and God Bless America…

Tuesday is going to be a gorgeous autumn day. Take your long shadow for a walk along the leaves…

…and find astonishing things