December 31st, 2024

     The last trading session of the year is here.

Runners and trade checkers would collect all the discarded newspapers laying around the pits and trading floor. They would find empty boxes that once held trading cards and fill them with ripped up pieces of paper.

Everyone would make sure that they had a handful of confetti in each of the pockets on their trading jackets.

Some guys would bring their families down to see the closing bell on New Years Eve. It was that extravagant.

Another job given to the runners was to go down to Ceres and get “To Go” cups. The guards were always tough about sneaking food and drinks onto the trading floors. Except on the last day of the year.

You could usually hear a slur to the bids and offers that were screaming back and forth in the last hour of the session.

In the Bond room the T-note pit wanted to outperform the bond pit and the option guys wanted to outshine the futures guys.

Over in the Grain room it was the Corn pit versus the Bean pit to see who can throw more confetti on the closing bell.

Five…. Four…. Three….. Two…. One….. Ding.. Ding.. Ding!

Happy New Year!

The quantities of contracts being traded and prices being bought and sold ended immediately and on that last day of the year…..

The trading floor air was filled with torn up “Tribunes,” ripped up “Wall Street Journals,” unused trading cards and even empty styrofoam cups that recently held a Bloody Mary from the bar downstairs.

It was New Year’s Eve at the Chicago Board of Trade. The year was in the books.

We don’t throw confetti at each other at the OakBrook Terrace Board of Trade, but there might be a cup of bourbon on a couple desks when the market closes today.

Fresh Start tomorrow… remember to bring your trading jacket home to throw into the wash.

December 30th, 2024

      At what age do we stop using our half birthday?

It was very important when we were kids to get that half in there. In 1st grade we made sure everyone knew when we turned six and a half. Even into sixth grade it was common knowledge who was eleven and a half…

… and by then we all had a kid in class that was held back and was already twelve.

January First is my half birthday. To most people it is New Year’s Day, but to me, it is when I can officially use my half age.

Since many of you Chalkheads are classmates of mine, it isn’t a surprise that I’ll be turning fifty-eight and a half this week.

I was so cocky when I was eight and a half or even twenty-eight and a half…

…not so much when I’m nearing sixty.

I packed a plastic tote up on Saturday morning to take to Goodwill. It was filled to the brim with things that we didn’t need any longer. I had George carry it down from the third floor and out to Betty the Green Blazer.

I told him to set it down behind the tailgate so I can move a couple things to make room. I picked it up and set it in, but when I picked it up it was extremely heavy.

I never noticed before when things were heavy.

George carried it down three sets of stairs and across the street like it was a stick of butter. I picked it up to set into the back of Betty as if it was an anvil made by Acme that I was delivering to Wile E. Coyote.

That isn’t the only thing.

I had to have George open a jar of minced garlic for me the other day.

This got me to thinking about using my half age again. I will be fifty-eight and a half on Wednesday. Which means that I’ll be the big six-zero in eighteen months.

My Gramma was sixty years older than me and she was freaking ancient. Gramma was born in 1906 and she watched everything from The Great War to astronauts going into space. Radios weren’t around when she was a kid…

…by the time I showed up in her life the Beatles just released their “Revolver” album.

My Gramma actually made it to 106 years old which enabled her to see the first “colored” President get elected.

Yeah, I know…. That isn’t politically correct, but that came from a woman who called her couch a davenport.

She didn’t know any better. My Gramma went to Mass several times a week and probably prayed for the colored people just as much as Dr. King did.

When I was seven and a half, I asked my mom why Gramma called black people colored people. That is when my Ma told me that they were called negros just before I was born. That is a story for another chalkboard. Maybe I can tell you the story when I was eleven and a half? When my mom and I watched “Roots” together and my world started to lose its innocence.

Anyway, I got a little carried away on turning sixty and comparing it to my Gramma who was classmates with Cleopatra.

Back to that crate that we took over to Goodwill. The whole way on the drive over to the Goodwill, I was thinking about how weak I felt.

Maybe I should make a New Year’s resolution and hit the bench press. I thought about calling Riverside’s best trainer Jerry Owen and telling him that I need his help.

I did drink a shit ton of eggnog these last few weeks. All four of my cheeks are a little puffier and my chin is dragging my collar. Maybe I should call Jerry?

I’m going to be fifty-eight and a half on Wednesday and my fifteen and a half year old son can probably bench more than me.

I didn’t mean to wake up on Monday morning feeling sorry for myself?!?!

I should be happy that I’ll be celebrating a half birthday on Humpday!?!?!

Today is the last Monday of 2024. After a dreary weekend, we should get a peek at the sun. Maybe long enough to notice that our shadows are slightly shrinking.

Just last week the sunset was ten minutes earlier than today. Before you know it, we will be back in bikinis and speed-o’s.

Go be astonished and go smile back at the sun today

December 29th, 2024

 I was fortunate to live in Riverside, Illinois during Covid.

You’ve heard the African proverb, “it takes a village to raise a child.”

You can take the beginning of that sentence and attach just about anything that symbolizes unity.

“It takes a village” means that we are in this deal called life together. We can collaborate with each other and share responsibility to make the neighborhood better.

All for one and one for all….

During Covid, all the amazing amateur musicians in Riverside collaborated and did a pay per view charity show. The money that was collected went to the restaurant employees around Riverside that worked during the shutdown.

It brought Riverside together and that event has grown into an annual festival that raises money for Saint Jude and other local charities.

Another gem that appeared in the town nestled along the curves of the DesPlaines river is just as unique.

Just before Hanukkah in 2020, a Jewish girl posted on the Riverside Facebook page a plan that she had.

She was going up to a bakery on the northside of Chicago to pick up sufganiots for her family. She offered to pick up extra orders for anyone interested.

I had an immediate flashback to the time my dad brought these fluffy pastries home when I was a kid. The Oldman went to visit his railroad buddy up in Rogers Park, Uncle Ira and Aunt Mimi. Aunt Mimi sent my dad back with a Jewish care package that included sufganiot.

Sufganiot, Sufganiyot, Sufganyah…

I’m a Goy, I’m not sure how to spell it, but I know how to eat them.

I replied to the Facebook thread and told this stranger that I would like to place an order.

Two days later I entered her home with my mask on. She had her mask on and so did the other twenty people picking up Jewish jelly donuts.

Her house was decorated with both Christmas and Hanukkah decorations.

Her dining room table was stacked with white boxes wrapped in twine with names Sharpie’d on the top.

Just like the “Riverside Rocks” tradition that gained steam during Covid.

"Sufganiot Sunday" has become a tradition that started during a tough period in history.

By the looks of it, my neighbor has an order that is twice as big as the original order.

This event has also started an annual “Jewish in Riverside” holiday party that brings both Jews and Gentiles together to celebrate. Two Faiths that both bring light into the world.

And when the candles are lit by all of us, the light is even brighter.

The Sufganiot Brigade is going to get together on Tuesday and light the menorah in front of the Riverside Train station.

It takes a village….

It takes a village that works together and supports each other…

…No matter what kind of dad band music you listen to or what kind of candle you light.

Advent candles and the Menorah bring astonishment to the world…

….so let us never let the light go out!

Happy Holidays and Chag Sameach

December 28th, 2024

 Today’s quote?

I’m trying to be optimistic, but not bullshit you at the same time.

I don’t hope… I gave up hoping years ago. Hope is what elects horrific politicians into office.

I am going into 2025 worried and cautious. Most of the worrying is caused by parenthood. Growing older brings wisdom, but for me it has made me more of a worrier.

I don’t remember worrying in the 1990’s. There wasn’t much to worry about when the load of responsibility was nil.

2025 is going to be a staircase that I take with caution. I’ve gone into previous years haphazardly and have fallen on my big ass.

I’m not going to hope that 2025 is better than the previous years. I also don’t want to think about the stupid shit that is going to occur in the next twelve months, but I’ll pray that stupid shit doesn’t occur.

That is about as close that I get to the “thoughts and prayers" that politicians like to tweet during the occurrence of stupid shit.

When put together, “Hope, thoughts and prayers” are wishful thinking that candy coats the stupid shit that life brings.

Leave hope and thoughts in the closet and just pray… remember what Stanley Kirk Burrell rapped about.

“You got to pray, just to make it today.”

2025 is going to bring some stupid shit. It might bring some pain and suffering as well.

If it does…. Don Shepley it!

Lower your shoulders, bow your neck and charge forward.

2025 is going to bring joy, happiness and good times as well.

Like Justin Wilson always said, “I Gawr‐on‐tee it!”

Today is National Card Playing Day. I was never a big poker player, but I played a lot of ”King’s Corner” with my Gramma and great aunties. I’d do anything to sit at the table with all those old ladies and play cards.

Today will be more like March than December. A perfect day to get shit done and recuperate from the Christmas rush.

End 2024 with astonishment and stay clear of stupid shit

December 27th, 2024

 Now that Christmas is over, we are on the downhill slide into 2025.

We are already twenty-five percent of the way into the twenty-first century.

The number down in the grabber section?

That is how many days have passed since Saturday, January 1st, 2000.

That doesn’t seem like that long ago to me, but what if we add 9,127 to today. We would get Wednesday, December 22nd, 2049.

2049 seems like a longtime from this morning, but it is the same amount of time since you partied like it was 1999.

I wonder what I’ll be wearing in 2049? As long as it isn’t a diaper, I’ll be happy. I know one thing that we will be talking about in 2049.

"It has been sixty-four years since the Chicago Bears won a Superbowl!"

I will be doing the Superbowl Shuffle for my grandchildren. Telling them about the 46 defense and Walter Payton.

It is time for formulating the dreaded New Year’s resolution. The focus will be on improving who we are in 2025. There is always room for improvement.

Let’s read the quote on The Morning Chalkboard…

At my age, I don’t have to prove myself to anyone except myself.

2025 will be like going to the gym or work or church. The hardest part is just showing up.

2025 will be the year of showing up.

Showing up to work, showing up for the Shepkids, showing up for my faith, showing up for my family and showing up for my friends.

This has been a great Morning Chalkboard for me. In the ten minutes since I started with…

… ”now that Christmas is over, we are on the downhill slide into 2025,”

This Chalkboard helped me figured out what I’m going to improve in the New Year.

I’m going to show up.

Not weddings, I don’t do weddings anymore. Hopefully not many wakes. I hate saying goodbye. That is why I always sneak out at the end of the night.

But I’ll show up every morning in 2025 with a shit ton of love, gruffness and gratefulness. I’ll be the gregarious kid that brings the open outcry touch to the day.

The last Friday of 2024. A good day to continue celebrating the Faith of the season with our family and friends.

Enjoy the frolicking and try to be astonished. I didn’t put a smile on the sun today. You’ll need to bring your own light into the world.

Show up……

December 26th, 2024

 You’ve heard me say how an instant memory will soon be a distant memory.

Christmas of 2024 is in the books and for the most part, the memories will be fond.

The memory from yesterday that should pass the test of time involved my son Fritz and his grandmother, JoJo.

We turned on my favorite Christmas movie, “The Bishop’s Wife” while the roast was cooking.

Fritz has seen the movie several times in his fifteen-year career as a Shepkid. JoJo thought she might have watched it at one point but couldn’t remember.

They both enjoyed the movie together and had great banter between them.

After the movie, I turned to Fritz and said, “From now on whenever you watch this movie, it will remind you of JoJo and how much fun the two of you had way back in 2024.”

An instant memory that will get filed into the Christmas past collections.

Today’s quote nails it down well, especially on the day after Christmas when we are gathering our gifts, storing the holiday serving plates and remembering the festive events that occurred in the last thirty-six hours.

Before I know it, Fritz will be off doing his own thing. Same with the other two Shepkids. They’ll have their Christmas memories of dad that will last longer than I do.

Well, I gotta go.

I just heard a “Dad, can you come here?”

Off to do dad stuff!

Be astonished today

December 25th, 2025

 The little radio in my kitchen has been turned to 93.9 since Thanksgiving.

I have three lines on the dial that I drew with a Sharpie. One is at DCB, the next one is at XRT and the final mark is at WFMT.

But, from Thanksgiving until about 4:30 this morning it has been turned to the Christmas music station. This station has a host on the evening shift, Delilah. She is a soft spoken woman who often takes calls from sad people during her broadcast. I won’t hear her voice until November of 2025.

I left 93.9 on overnight as they played commercial free for thirty-six hours.

I am officially warn out on Christmas songs. It happened at 4:30 when I heard Wham crying about Christmas from last year. It was the eleventh time I heard George Michael crying about lost love since dinner time last night.

No more Mariah Carey, no more Burl Ives, no more Carpenters and no more José Feliciano.

I can only handle so much Mannheim Steamroller and I hit that limit back on December sixth.

Christmas morning has arrived as promised. I enjoy waking up and seeing the glow of the Christmas tree. I put mine up late this year. I’m probably going to take it down Saturday.

I’ve never been patient when it comes to anticlimactic events. I’ve gotten worse as I’ve gotten older.

The unemployment number at the first of the month was always a big event. The trading floor would nervously wait for the numbers to be released and then suddenly at 7:30 in the morning…

…the cacophony of buying and selling, shouting and screaming, losses and gains occurred.

When it was over, it was over and we moved on.

Christmas is similar, at least to me.

We build it up, we prepare and we anxiously await the moment when it comes to a momentous end.

Dishes piled in the sink. Garbage bags filled with wrapping paper that we hurriedly taped on boxes and the relief that follows when everyone is satisfied.

When I typed out that last word, “satisfied,” I was a little set back with selecting it.

Christmas is about giving and receiving, not satisfying.

I’m satisfied with the birth of Christ, but the tie that Aunt Harriet gave me is hideous. The glow of the Christmas tree is glorious, but Uncle Max overcooked the beef tenderloin.

Christmas for this year ends at the opening bell tomorrow morning, but the Christmas spirit should last up to when I turn the dial back to 93.9fm next November.

The anticipation may be over, but the love for the season will always glow.

Have yourself a merry and astonishingly beautiful Christmas.

December 24th, 2024

 Someone we know will be celebrating their last Christmas tomorrow.

What kind of line is that to begin the Christmas Eve Morning Chalkboard?

I woke up anxious from an active dream that ended with a handshake from Ernest Borgnine. One second, I’m greeted by an actor from the mid-twentieth century, the next minute I’m telling all of the Chalkheads something morbid.

I don’t mean to sound like a jagoff this morning. I’m Jumbo Claus, I’m supposed to bring jumbo love and happiness to my world.

Maybe I started today’s Chalkboard with that opening sentence because of the quote today and the song that it comes from.

Especially when Judy Garland sings it with that melancholy tone that she brings.

If the fate allows?

When we wake up in the morning, we have a schedule to follow for the day. After thanksgiving we all started planning the details for the holiday season and the end of 2024.

Some of us have already formulated our goals and resolutions for 2025.

We might have everything ready to go the way we plan it…

BUTT, does the fate allow?

The joy that the season brings is a sort of hiccup in life. It interrupts our regular routine and for some of us…

…the regular routine fucking sucks right now.

“From now on, our troubles will be out of sight.”

Just after the last Christmas song plays on WLIT or when the last dreidel is finished spinning.

Troubles come back into the picture.

Today’s Chalkboard isn’t about how awesome giving and receiving presents can be. It isn’t about how the prime rib turned out or what we plan on doing with Aunt Mildred’s dreaded fruitcake. It isn’t about the glory of Midnight Mass or the glow from the first candle on the menorah.

I’m not even going to talk about the glorious gift of the Baby Jesus.

Today, I want us to remember that Christmas is one day and life is the remaining 364.

I want you to enjoy these next few moments, but I don’t want you to forget the task in hand.

Some Chalkheads are going through a shitshow right now and I don’t want them to fall through the cracks.

Every morning, I pray for my uncle in a nursing home with dementia. I pray for my mother-in-law who must accept widowhood again this Christmas. I pray for my cousins Tricia and Chucky that haven’t been speaking with each other for several years. I pray for my friends that have issues with their children. I pray for friends who have lost a loved one or who are about to spend their last Christmas with someone they love.

I even pray for my ex-wife who hates me a shit ton. This painful woman brought me bigger gifts than Santa ever did and she wallows in making life miserable. I still pray for her.

Usually, it is during that part of the prayer that I’m swearing my ass off.

You are going to have a huge calorie intake these next couple hours. So, I’m not going to sugarcoat this somabitch…

…the season is hard on some of us.

Baby Jesus, mistletoe and George Bailey won’t make it go away.

You have no control of how things will turn out. It is what the fate allows.

Let Uncle Gilbert hug you with his cigar smelling sweater. Have a beer in the backyard with your cousin that voted for the person that you didn’t vote for in November. Be cool with the boyfriend that your daughter is bringing over for the first time.

It is true…. Someone is celebrating their last Christmas, their last Hanukkah, their last New Year’s Day.

We might know it is the last one, but worse off..

… we haven’t a fucking clue. If the fates allow.

Just try to be astonished with the glow from the light of the nativity and the shamash candle.

December 23rd, 2024

    How about a Dickens' quote to start Christmas week?

Christmas time has so many characters; from Rudolph to George Bailey, Baby Jesus to Santa, from Frosty to the Grinch.

One character that we often overlook is Ebenezer Scrooge. His message is a rough one that doesn’t appeal to those in the Christmas spirit.

Scrooge is a jagoff!

… but the message in his story can be useful to learn.

It is never too late to make a positive impact on the world.

Scrooge was given the gift of releasing his regrets and cleansing his soul. Scrooge woke up on the morning of Christmas Eve a painful bitter man that left a negative impact throughout his life. He made everything around him miserable.

Scrooge woke up on Christmas morning with a cleansed soul that was ready to brighten the world. The transformation of Ebenezer Scrooge is the biggest gift we can learn during Christmas.

Sure, Rudolph conquered the bullies and showed Santa his worth. George Bailey ended up realizing that his life didn’t suck. Charlie and Linus bought a crappy Christmas tree that showed the crowd the meaning of Christmas…

… and then there is the biggest message of all on Christmas; the baby born in a manger.

Make the message that Dickens gave us through Jacob Marley and the ghosts that followed important in your life.

Scrooge can’t change his past and neither can we.

BUTT, it is never too late in life to fix the mistakes we made. It is never too late to correct taking the dark path and merge onto the lighted road.

Scrooge lived the remainder of his life making his world a better place. His lesson learned wasn’t a cute and fuzzy story built by Hallmark. Dickens purposely scared the living shit out of Scrooge.

Learn from Marley’s chains and the Christmas ghosts. Learn that living in a life of regret and misery can be left in the past. Learn that this week is a present of light. Light through the Nativity and Light from the Menorah. Learn that we can carry that light into the future and brighten the world.

It is the symbolism of Scrooge that can make us better. He went to bed in a dark place and woke up the next day grabbing for his sunglasses.

Most of you Chalkheads have seen the fifty or so movie versions of “A Christmas Carol.” Make it part of Christmas next year to read the book. You can even get the audio version read by Starfleet Officer, Jean-Luc Picard. His voice captures it perfectly.

These last few days of December are the best time to ditch the past, enjoy the present and strive towards the future. A future limited by time and not limited by regret.

Go be astonished, go bring light into your world….

December 22nd, 2024

Today’s quote came from my favorite Christmas movie. Most of you like a Christmas movie with an Angel by the name of Clarence.

Clarence is a cute old Angel who does some great work. He leaves his assignment a dear gift at the end of the movie. His copy of “The Adventures of Tom Sawyer” that had a message inside of the cover…

…. "Remember, no man is a failure who has friends. Thanks for the wings!"

Clarence saved George Bailey in “It’s a Wonderful Life” and Poppa God gave him his wings.

In my favorite movie, “The Bishop’s Wife,” the angel is Cary Grant. A more elegant angel than Clarence. Mr. Grant plays Dudley, assigned to help a Bishop caught between building a new cathedral and saving his marriage. Like Clarence, Dudley also has some flaws.

We all have flaws, so it makes sense that our Guardian Angels have them as well.

In the end, the cathedral is built and the bishop learns to balance faith and family.

It would be great to have a Clarence and Dudley show up on occasion in our lives.

The stress from making ends meet and making everyone happy isn’t an easy task. Throw in the occasional event that amplifies the stress level and that’s about the time we need an angel from heaven to assist us.

Clarence was an awkward angel and Dudley an eloquent angel.

I’m not sure if I’ve ever experienced a Guardian Angel through the years.

What I’ve done is assign relatives and friends who are in heaven different guardianship roles.

PopPop watches my son George. The Oldman keeps watch on Fritz and my Gramma Loretta has been given the difficult job with Hazel.

The jobs that I have given to people in heaven actually keeps them with me on a daily basis. This alone keeps my grief at a minimum. I can’t grieve the loss if they aren’t gone.

My mom kicks my bed every night at 2:22am. My Oldman is sitting in Betty the Green Blazer’s passenger seat every time I put the key in the ignition. My Gramma is with me at work or whenever I come across a hard task. It was she that developed my strong work ethic.

Heaven is closer than the White Hen or Village Pantry. Whenever you’re missing someone who is already in heaven…

…think about them and they are near.

Whenever you need a lottery ticket and a Tribune, drive to the convenient store.

Maybe Dudley is the clerk that sells you that scratch off ticket with your morning coffee?

Maybe Clarence is the conductor on your morning train into the city?

We all need a guardian angel on a daily basis and I believe they are around us. We just don’t know who they are and what role they play.

Maybe WE are Guardian Angels and just don’t know it?

When you do something that makes someone else’s day better…

…you are earning your wings.

Go make “The Bishop’s Wife” your new favorite Christmas movie and be astonished at what this week will bring. 

December 21st, 2022

 Yesterday, I didn’t realize that George changed around some letters on The Morning Chalkboard.

Hazel wanted to get in the action. So she left everyone a little message last night. She made me promise not to erase it this morning.

Just remember Hazel…

…someday when you and your brothers are going through all the years of chalkboards, Winter Solstice 2024 was when you scribbled on my Morning Chalkboard.

Today I quoted Walt Whitman.

His message is simple. Never believe what you read and take everything with a grain of salt.

There are usually two sides to every story. Everything you’ve been told, examine it at your own terms.

From here on out, the days will start getting longer. Slow at first, but New Year’s Eve with have a 4:30 sunset in Chicago and the first 5pm sunset is around January 28th.

Bundle up, it’s going to be cold around here today. The perfect day to put some love in the crockpot and under the sheets as well.

The Saturday before Hanukkah and Christmas. Hanukkah Harry and Santa Claus are coordinating their final plans for Tuesday night.

Keep out of their way.

December 20th, 2024

 Update: I chalked the board Thursday night before I went to bed. I took the picture when I woke up Friday morning not realizing my 18 year old roommate changed the “O” in comfort to a “U.”

He just asked me if I knew I misspelled the word “comfort.” His little girl giggle gave it away immediately.

I’m not changing it!

And comfort is the worst addiction. Just ask Michael Douglas.

We just need to get through the day and then the weekend before Christmas will begin.

December 19th, 2024

The next two weeks will be filled with plenty of moments to choose from.

Hanukkah, Christmas, New Years are time capsules for our memories.

Each holiday captures a moment in time that adds to a blur from of our past. Eras in our timelines that can be special or sad. Moments that can trigger thoughts of happiness and unfortunately, thoughts of grief and pain as well.

These holidays captured moments from our youth through adolescence and into adulthood.

The moments are caught in time and then time decays the specifics and turns them into general relativity.

In time you forget what year you went to Gramma’s house, but you know it was when you were about six or seven.

You forget what year it was when you showed up at Midnight Mass shitfaced and don’t remember getting communion because all you thought about was taking a piss…

…you were about twenty-three.

The one thing we usually don’t know, are the holidays when it’s the last one.

The last Hanukkah when Uncle Schlomo was still around telling family stories. The last Christmas when your mom gave you a Christmas gift. The last New Year when you stayed up with your older brother drinking scotch and watching Dick Clark. The last time Grampa slowly read from Luke just before Christmas dinner.

All the moments of the holidays become memories soon after they happen. We were so busy realizing how anticlimactic the last month had been that we don’t see how quickly it vanished.

I know several of you Chalkheads are experiencing the first holiday season without your mommy or daddy.

I know a couple of you that are newlyweds or new parents. Some of you will be lonely and some of you will sit at a table with a dozen people.

Happiness and sadness determine how these moments become memories. Do your best to store them properly for future use.

Remember yesterday when I said that your calls and text messages were winning lottery tickets?

I’m there if you need someone these next couple weeks. I have prayers and dirty jokes to share.

Big Brother Bob…

…thanks for calling yesterday and leaving your annual Christmas Carol message. Those mean a shit ton to me.

This is another example of a happy Christmas moment that will someday blur together as a memory.

A memory that was immediately glorious and a memory that will be dreadful when they no longer occur.

I have a voice message from 2015 from my Oldman wishing me a Merry Christmas. He tells me that he is proud of me and at the end he says, “I Love You.”

I listen to it often.

I called him back the next day. I can’t call him back the next day anymore.

Cherish the moment Chalkheads.

Cherish the moment.

December 18th, 2024

 I woke up this morning to an email from the Illinois State Lottery. The email congratulated me for being a winner.

The email explained the steps that it took to discover the amount of my prize. Log in to your account, Select the My Games tab, select Draw Games, select Check Results, and enjoy a playback of your win!

I won two bucks!

I was daydreaming throughout the process of finding the results. How crazy would this be right before Christmas to win a shit ton of money? I could buy a home and store all the Shepkids under the same roof. I could give them the balance of nurturing and discipline that they need.

Oh well….

Christmas is still going to be glorious, but I will still only have visitation rights and I will still be driving Betty the Green Blazer out to the OakBrook Terrace Board of Trade this morning.

The morning email from the Illinois State Lottery can be looked at like a kick in the throat. A jolly reminder that the daily struggle is still alive.

Or

The morning email from the Illinois State Lottery can be looked at as a reminder of how many gifts that I already have in life.

The lesson here is…

… every morning I wake up, my feet hitting the ground is a winning lottery ticket. Every time I hear a Shepkid tell me that they love me; winning lottery ticket. Every morning Betty rumbles westbound on 31st street; winning lottery ticket. Every now and then when one of you calls or texts to say hello; winning lottery ticket. Every time someone asks me to pray for them; winning lottery ticket. Every night I go to bed after a hard day at work; winning lottery ticket.

My football team sucks, my baseball team lost 121 games last year, my ex-wife is a pain in the ass, my sex life is lonely, my mattress needs replacing, my legs scream when I climb stairs and the bills increase monthly.

Oh well…

I received an email that called me a winner this morning…

So I have that going for me.

A week from today, the Christmas presents will all be revealed and candle wax will be on the first lamp of the menorah.

Get up and enjoy the lottery ticket called life.

Because we are all W I N N I N G

December 17th, 2024

 I’m not a big fan of Tuesday. I was thinking how we have tried to make Tuesday more attractive.

The first thing that came up was the practice of radio stations playing two songs in a row by the same artist, “Two for Tuesday.”

The second thing that has taken a shot at sprucing up Tuesday is the “Taco Tuesday” movement.

I’m betting half of you Chalkheads eat a taco today…

I’d probably eat a taco if someone offered it to me, but I won’t go out of my way for a taco.

As I’ve gotten older, my desire for a taco has dropped off significantly.

I can remember my first taco sometime in the early to mid 1970’s. My dad ordered tacos for me at a Lums Restaurant. I wanted a hot dog and fries, but my Oldman made me eat tacos.

The next time I had a taco was at a Jack in the Box. I bit into the somofabitch and it fell apart in my hand.

Hot dog buns don’t do that!

There might have been four places around Chicagoland that had tacos when I was a kid. Today, there are taco places on every corner. If you are looking for a currency exchange, look for a taco sign and there will be a currency exchange on the same block.

Something else that I’ve lost interest in as I’ve gotten older…

… Led Zeppelin.

I just pissed off a dozen Chalkheads right there and I know exactly who is M F’ing me right now. I didn’t say this to piss you guys off.

I just can’t listen to Led Zeppelin without turning to another station. If it’s Tuesday and they play two Zeppelin songs in a row, I’m listening to the news on WGN.

I beat the living shit out of “Led Zeppelin IV” throughout the Summer of 1979, but today I cringe when I hear a song from that album.

You will never see me eating tacos and listening to “Stairway to Heaven.”

Give me a hot dog and some Bob Seger or an Italian beef and a dose of Van Halen. I’ll take some gumbo and Louis Armstrong or a glass of bourbon and Miles Davis…

…but I’ll pass on the soft shell carne asada taco and “All of My Love.”

I sat down to write with a brain fart blocking any ideas this morning. Suddenly tacos and Jimmy Plant popped into my crawl space of a cranium. Today’s Chalkboard was terrific therapy for me. It was good to talk about ground beef and lettuce wrapped in a tortilla and a rock band from fifty-five years ago.

I hope all the taco lovers and Zeppelin fans have a gorgeous day today.

I’m thinking about a gyros and some Talking Heads might make Tuesday mo betta’ for me. Maybe even a bowl of chili and some Johnny Cash.

Just one week from today and Santa will be strapping up the sleigh. I’ll be looking up in the sky next Tuesday trying to see him. I hope the drones over New Jersey are gone by the time Saint Nick takes the reindeer for a ride.

Enjoy your taco today and always search for astonishment.