January 31st, 2025

 Nothing better than going for the gusto with some Kahlil Gibran to end the work week.

I was introduced to Gibran at Christmas of 1983 by my father. In October of that year, over 200 Marines were killed in Beirut, Lebanon.

At Thanksgiving, I spouted off some sort of hateful rhetoric about Lebanon and terrorism that pissed off my Oldman.

All I received from him for Christmas that year was “The Prophet” by Kahlil Gibran. Gibran was a Christian writer from Lebanon.

He highlighted several lines in the book before he wrapped it in a brown grocery bag from The Jewels. Today’s Chalkboard was one of the quotes that he wanted me to learn immediately. He wrote “Merry Christmas Moose, pull your head out of your ass. Love Dad” inside the cover.

There will be plenty of pain and suffering in your life. Don’t let it knock you down, but instead, have pain make you stronger.

It was good advice for a stupid know-it-all senior in high school. I haven’t had much of a painful life because of preparation like this.

“Bend your knees, bow your neck and charge through life’s obstacles.”

Today is Hot Chocolate Day. Perfect way to end the month. It was around the same time I was introduced to Gibran that my Oldman introduced me to his famous Grasshopper Hot Chocolate.

Philosophy and Schnapps…. A great combination.

Let’s end January of 2025 and flip into February. I’m sure many of us will be watching the Bill Murray movie with the alarm clock at some point this weekend.

…..I got you babe

January 30th, 2025

 How about an old proverb to start your Thursday off?

When the shit hits the fan. When everything around you has gone mad. When the challenges and the tasks are unbearable.

Stand strong like a mountain and hold your ground.

It has been really hard wintering this week with the above normal temperatures. The sun is staying out a little longer as well. I might have to have my evening cocktail on the balcony today.

Have at it and stand up strong to Thursday.

January 29th, 2025

 Yesterday was the death anniversary of William Butler Yeats. He was an Irish writer who lived between 1865 and January 28th, 1939.

He means a lot to me because he meant a lot to my Oldman.

Many of you Chalkheads have seen through the years a quote that I use that defines the importance of friendship.

“Think where man's glory most begins and ends, and say my glory was I had such friends.”

Yeats wrote it….

…. My dad gave me two crystal beer mugs with this quote etched on the side for my twenty-first birthday.

Today is the day after Yeats death.

We remember the death date of people that we love for the rest of our lives.

My Oldman died on October 3rd and my Mom died on May 6th. Someday the Shepkids will have a date to remember when I get called up to the Big League.

It is the next day when we realize we must go on without them. October 4th was a Sunday and May 7th was a Saturday.

I guess this Chalkboard is here today because I forgot to give this Irish poet a shout out yesterday…

… but maybe that’s the point?

There is always a next day. We might not leave a legacy of literature behind like William Butler Yeats, but there will be something left behind.

The quote on the Chalkboard today is actually from Jonathan Swift. His words tie this all together.

Live life to the fullest and leave something behind besides grief. Leave something to be etched on the side of a crystal beer mug.

I will leave you with one last quote from Yeats…

“I heard the old, old, men say 'all that's beautiful drifts away, like the waters.”

Time to go hump… not only are we sliding into the weekend, but we are also sliding into a new month.

I hope you Google William Butler Yeats today and discover a dear writer to the Shepley men.

January 28th, 2025

     The other day I received a text from Fritz. He was excited to tell me how he did one of the craziest things that he has ever done.

He threw a snowball at his school bus after school. It hit just below the window and it startled one of his nerd buddies.

Sophomore in high school and the most daring thing he has done in his life is throw a snowball at a school bus.

“Have you ever done something that crazy when you were fifteen dad?”

Everyone that knew me in the 1970’s and 1980’s, get ready for this answer…

…. “No son, that is way over my crazy level when I was fifteen.”

I then received a big smiley face text that confirmed that Fritz was happy that he one upped his Oldman.

Alright, alright you guys that knew me forty and fifty years ago!

I took the liberty of bullshiting my son.

I couldn’t tell him I skitched home after school on a day it snowed ten inches in Chicago. All the fifth graders were doing it.

I couldn’t tell Fritz how me and the Christ the King boys threw snowballs at buses from the Monon Bridge in eighth grade.

I couldn’t tell him that I could write fifty “Hail Mary’s” in fifteen minutes. Something perfected in after school detention.

I sure as hell couldn’t tell him that I tried a little grass, kissed a little snatch and “Little Kings” was my beer of choice when I was a sophomore in high school.

I will let Fritz continue to believe he was one wild and crazy guy.

The shitshow that I put my parents through….

… I am blessed at this point.

Someday that kid is going to rip the lid off of life and spill out the gusto. I hope I get a text message from him when that happens.

When that day comes, I will tell him how far he has gone from his first snowball at the school bus in 2025.

Recently I asked Fritz to put the vacuum back in the closet for me. He came in the kitchen and told me that it was done. Then he asked me if that was one of those beer bong things on the shelf of the closet.

“Yeah Fritz… that’s mine and don’t touch it!”

He sheepishly replied, “No way dad, I only drink root beer.”

I know, I know… you Chalkheads are wondering why a fifty-eight year old father still has a beer bong.

Well… you just never know when the Cathedral guys are going to come over with a couple cases of “Little Kings.” Maybe they’ll splurge and grab some “Moosehead?”

I’m glad that I’ll be in heaven when the Shepkids start reading old Chalkboards.

Time to go act mature and make people think I’m kind of smart….

… and the rumors aren’t rumors if they are true!

Look at that sunset time baby!

Go out and be astonished and I hope that you hear a two’fer from “The Beastie Boys” today on the radio.

January 27th, 2025

 I chalked this quote down after some bitter emails with the Shepkids’ other parent.

I could easily bang out seven hundred words on the history of that relationship, but that is a negative direction for a Monday morning.

Instead, I’m going to tell a story about a guy that I know who is a little younger than me. The kid brother to one of my dearest friends.

I was sitting in Shanahans Saturday afternoon having a beer, a bowl of seafood gumbo and a Fat Harry’s cheeseburger.

Just as I am finishing my lunch, a vice grip of a hand squeezes the nape of my neck and a quick punch clips my love handle.

I look back and see a familiar smile squinting in the afternoon sun shining across the bar.

I was getting ready to pay my bill when my old friend and his wife bellied up next to me. What could have been a quick catch up turned into an hour of old stories and cherished memories.

Here are high school sweethearts from Oak Park/River Forest that produced six children that have all become adults.

My buddy comes from a family that lived in the southwest corner of Oak Park. His parents raised ten kids in a little foursquare stucco house.

I went to Shanahans in a bad mood after those damn emails and a sudden text from the Redheads saying that they’ve decided to stay west of Mannheim Road.

I went to Shanahans and found out the visit had a little more than me feeling sorry for myself. I left Shanahans after hearing the struggles and the happiness of a marriage that has lasted thirty years. The visit was more than just a bowl of incredible gumbo. It was a reminder of how good life is...

Twenty-five years ago I sat on the same barstool with a girl that I was dating and falling in love with. I had daydreams of sitting with her as empty nesters someday drinking beers on a Saturday afternoon.

That never happened, but I did get a glimpse of that during a quick bite to eat at a consistent place in my life. A place that I go to when I need to sort things out.

From working as a bouncer at Shanahans when I was twenty-five to celebrating birthdays, Mardi Gras, political fundraisers and even my rehearsal dinner. The Irish bar/Creole restaurant at 7353 West Madison has always been my happy place.

It ranks right there with my Oldman’s house at 220 South Lombard and my long career at 141 West Jackson.

I might have gone to lunch by myself Saturday afternoon, but I left filled with great joy.

Always have somewhere to go that has a magical and spiritual connection. A place that sends messages or gives you a sign when life gets foggy.

When I worked downtown, I’d walk over to Buckingham fountain and sit on the bench on the southeast corner that faces the city. I’d listen to Vivaldi and leave with a better sense of my surroundings.

Shanahans has that same purpose.

Good therapy this weekend and with this Chalkboard. Off to The Oakbrook Terrace Board of Trade and the last week of January.

Today we remember the hatred of nazi Germany and pray for our Jewish brothers and sisters on International Holocaust Remembrance Day.

Look at that sunset time…. We’ve made it through the darker days of winter.

Be astonished

January 26th, 2025

 Do you know if you were born in 1966, you turn the age of the SuperBowl in that year?

We turned one when the Packers won the first SuperBowl in 1967. We turned eleven when the Raiders beat the Vikings in 1977.

And important only to Chicago Bear fans born in 1966. We turned twenty when the Bears won their only SuperBowl 46-10 on January 26th, 1986.

The dreaded curse of SuperBowl XX. It has become a part of “Back to the Future.” Because, just like Marty McFly, Bear fans keep going back to 1985.

My Oldman wasn’t a Bear fan. He was one of the few people that I know that never held Papa Bear in grandeur. My Oldman was a Chicago Cardinal fan. He was also a Saint Louis Browns fan as a kid. Both teams ended up leaving the town they were born in.

I became a Bear fan because of a linebacker by the name of Butkus. My Oldman blamed Halas for the knee injuries Dick Butkus had during his career.

I stayed a Bear fan because of a running back by the name of Payton. The Halas towel boy, Ditka didn’t even give Walter Payton a chance to score in XX. Another reason my dad didn’t like the Chicago Bears.

I haven’t watched a current Superbowl in years. I watch XX on YouTube instead. Every year I moan when Payton fumbles on the second play of the game and the Patriots score a field goal to take the early lead. I cheer on all seven of the Bears sacks and I cry every year when the players carry Buddy Ryan on their shoulders at the end.

I know every line Dick Enberg, Merlin Olsen and Bob Griese call during the game. I know every player on the entire roster and I know every snap count on each play.

I have zero interest in SuperBowl LIX (59). Yep, that’s right Class of ‘84…

….we are all fifty nine years old in 2025.

Today’s quote comes from Carl Sandburg. It has nothing to do with being a loathsome Bear fan, but it is often the moon that I scream at after the Bears lose a game.

It was the moon that I howled at on January 26th, 1986. It was cold that night and I was just a lonesome nineteen year old getting ready to turn twenty.

Enjoy the playoff games today. You have Taylor Swift’s team. A team from Pennsylvania that has the crappiest fans in the NFL. A team who has fans that break tables at their tailgate and a team named after an R&B band from the 1970’s…

…the Commodores.

I think I’ll end up watching the “Lidia’s Kitchen” marathon on PBS today.

It is the last week of January. The sun will start setting after five o’clock this week in Chicagoland and the temperatures will be normal as we head into February.

Six Nations starts next week. First match is Ireland versus England. Way bigger than the SuperBowl.

Be astonished this week

January 25th, 2025

 I went to get Betty the Green Blazer some gas and a car wash this morning. The line was already ten deep when I pulled up to the gate.

I paid for a deluxe wash and waited patiently in line, but the line wasn’t moving. I’m about six back with cars already in the shoot.

Five minutes… ten minutes…. Fifteen minutes? WTF!

By this time, there are twenty cars behind me and I can see the impatience starting to spill amongst the parked cars in line.

Finally, a kid comes out of the building and starts talking to the stranded drivers waiting for a car wash.

He walks up to Betty and I with a big stoner smile and a couple rings in his nose.

“Hey sir… our door is stuck and we won’t be able to get it fixed for a couple hours..”

“Okay kid, can I come back later and get a car wash?”

“I got you sir!”

Another kid that was high as a kite as well started directing cars through an emergency exit.

I was lucky to be ten cars deep this morning. I feel sorry for the poor bastards that are stuck IN the car wash.

If this is the worst thing that happens to me today….

… it’s going to be a fanfuckingtastic day!

Rarely does it payoff to be last in line, not this time!

Today’s quote reminds me of something I learned from rugby, Sweep the Sheds.

Always find something to do.

Tonight is Burns Night.

Listen to bagpipes, read some poetry by Scotland’s famous writer, eat some haggis and finish with “Auld Lang Syne,” which was written by Robert Burns.

It’s also Irish Coffee Day…

So, get your Scottish and Irish up today

January 24th, 2025

 I’m not sure if I’ll ever get The Morning Chalkboard Project published, but at some point, the Shepkids will start reading them all.

That is when they will learn more about their Oldman and all of his ups and downs of being their dad.

Hazel sent me a text Thursday night, “Can I go to urs this weekend ?“

Towards the end of 2024 and now into 2025, both Fritz and Hazel ask to come to Riverside on the weekends when I don’t have custody.

It is real hard to say no.

One reason is because I love them and I know that sooner or later, they will be off doing their own thing.

Like Louis and Ella once sang, “One of these mornings, you're goin' to rise up singin' and you'll spread your wings and you'll take the sky, but 'til that mornin', there's a-nothin' can harm you with daddy standin' by your side.”

The second reason that I cave in is when I was their age, I wanted to be with my dad and get as far away from my mom as possible.

For them, it is a lot easier. They live on the other side of Mannheim Road. When I was a kid, I lived one hundred and eighty miles down I-65.

Just like the Shepkids, my mom suffered from depression and alcoholism. Just like the Shepkids, my Oldman nurtured with tough love and tenderness.

There was a couple times when I was told that I couldn’t get on the train in Indianapolis and take the four and a half hour trip through Crawfordsville, Lafayette and Dyer. Arriving in Chicago and immediately heading over to Maxwell Street for a polish.

Just like my dad probably felt when I came home…

…I feel secure having George in his room, Fritz in his room and Hazel in my bedroom. Hearing them breathe or occasionally elbowing the wall while they sleep is comforting while I’m cramped on the sofa.

Someday when you read this Hazel, sleeping on the couch wrecks my neck and back, but that is what dads do.

Fritz, I enjoy making you pancakes in the morning, but I’d rather be at the diner reading the Trib with my buttered rye toast, bacon, eggs over easy and burnt hash browns.

And George… you’ll never go away. We are going to be the eclectic dad and son living on the fifth floor of The Edgewater Beach apartments.

Good therapy this morning. I’m sure I’ll be sleeping on the couch and making pancakes this weekend…

…because I know that dad’s home is the safest place in the Shepkid’s life.

That’s why we often drive past 220 South Lombard, because that was once the safest place in my life.

“So hush little baby, don't you cry….”

January 23rd, 2025

 Sliding into the weekend quickly this week. Though I realized years ago that the shortened trading weeks are always more volatile and harder to work.

The Voodoo spirits are in full force down in New Orleans.

Or maybe the Miser brothers have negotiated a deal that allowed it to finally snow heavily in the south.

I was never a big fan of Heat and Snow Miser. I knew at an early age that they were a couple entitled and spoiled brats.

So, I firmly believe that New Orleans has had more snow than Chicago this winter because of Voodoo.

Don’t mess with Voodoo.

I think what this means is…

….celebrate the Mardi Gras with more gusto this year.

Time to get Thursday going.

I gotta work hard today and cover my first major ULTA bill. Why is it when George and Fritz need toiletries, it costs on average $11.87?

I bought Hazel four things at ULTA and it cost a hundred bucks!

Let’s get it on

January 22nd, 2025

    The arrival of Wednesday happens quickly when we have Monday off. The icebox weather is moving through as the next few days will reach the twenties.

Icebox…. “Can you grab me a bottle of Old Style out of the icebox please?”

There are still a few of us around that occasionally call the fridge an icebox. There are even more people around that call the freezer section the icebox. They differentiate the icebox section from the refrigerator section.

Every once in awhile I’ll get the reply, “Who are you? Ralph Kramden?”

Anyway…. The artic blast is subsiding.

My long johns are happy for the warmer temperatures returning to Chicagoland. The poor bastards should have realized when they were sitting on a shelf at the Big and Tall store that a thigh gap was never in the future.

That is why you’ll never see me wearing corduroy pants. You can hear me walking down the street from a block away. I can’t even think of an onomatopoeia for the sound of corduroy rubbing between my hip hop thighs.

Anyway… it’s already Wednesday.

Soon it will be Six Nations, then Mardi Gras, then Saint Patrick’s and then Opening Day.

In the middle of all that we move the clocks forward in about a month and a half.

Go kick Wednesday in the ass and be nice to people.

Even if it’s a privileged person blocking the sidewalk because she is entitled to…

I was very nice yesterday when I rebuilt her backside, but that is a story for another chalkboard…

Play nice and share your toys….

January 21st, 2025

 I’m kind of glad to go back to work. It is minus five outside, so I’m anxious to get out and see how Betty the Green Blazer is holding up.

I have waited for the Lake Street L on mornings much colder than today. In a time when there wasn’t a GPS telling you when the next CTA train arrives.

Bundle up tight and don’t forget to dust up your thighs before pulling your long johns up. GoldBond isn’t just for summer. Trust me on this.

It’s an oatmeal kind of day.

January 20th, 2025

 It is much easier to unfollow than unfriend on social media. You can also snooze them for thirty day as well.

When someone gets mouthy about politics, I scroll to where you can unfollow them and their posts will no longer appear on my feed, but we are still friends on Facebook… kumbaya

In fact, I did one last night and another one this morning.

I took a line from “Roads” by Edward Thomas today. Life goes on and sometimes we forget or choose not to remember, but like the metaphor of a shooting star, we too flame out quickly in the evening sky.

Our significance only lasts for a fleeting moment and during that quick second…

… I don’t give two shits about your political opinion on war and the economy.

Also, like a shooting star…

… this too shall pass.

In 1,406 days we will have elected a new leader.

The Clinton years seem like yesterday to me, but they are thirty years ago. Which means the Nixon years are fifty years ago and the Eisenhower administration was seventy years ago.

All fleeting moments.

Do you remember that clacker thing on the principals desk?

The balance pendulum with the metal silver spheres, Newton’s cradle.

American politics is just like those clanking balls. There is a shit ton of noise and movement coming from the outside balls. Similar to our extreme beliefs from the left and the right.

The middle isn’t doing much movement, staying calm and creating the forces that gets the work done.

Political movements come and go, but our government was designed to keep focused and keep America going.

It isn’t worth getting unfriended and uninvited to Thanksgiving dinner.

Keep your pie hole shut.

Celebrate Doctor King’s legacy. Bid President Biden adieu and thank him for his fifty years in politics. Wish President Trump luck in guidance during his second term as president and hunker down and root for the teams playing football tonight.

Straight F’s in Life

FOUNDATION: FAITH, FAMILY, FRIENDS and College FOOTBALL.

Be astonished while you can, the moment is constantly fleeting away

January 19th, 2025

Here is our chance to do all the romantic traditional winter things. Cuddle up under warm blankets. Sit next to blazing hot fireplaces. Drink thick warm mugs of hot chocolate. Wear heavy sweaters and wool socks while reading Percy Bysshe Shelley under the glow of a warm lightbulb.

You get the picture.

I’m an advocate of a ladle lying next to a stovetop with a big pot of gumbo or chili gurgling inside.

Sunday, Monday and Tuesday will be perfect days to feel your snot freeze up on deep inhales.

Get ready to have a three day affair with your long underwear. My Long John’s are going to be pissed come Wednesday after seventy-two hours of being rubbed between my hip hop thighs.

The mightiest of Midwesterners will be drinking coffee and bourbon next to the backyard fire pit.

Don’t be surprised to see a fraternity boy or a middle aged dad wearing shorts outside. The Sigma Nu at Kincade’s watching college basketball drinking Pabst and the suburban dad standing in line at The Jewels getting a gallon of milk and a loaf of bread.

I’m worried about Betty the Green Blazer outside in the cold. Thoughts and prayers for my old girl.

And remember common sense.

Pets and seniors… make sure to keep your eye on them.

The cold crisp January skies should give us a perfect template to star gazing. Our Milky Way neighbors will be out and about these next ten days. I drew up a diagram for you to reference down in the grabber section.

Big week for college football and American politics.

Now I met Coach Woody Hayes when I was a young boy, but I talk to Our Lady on a daily basis. So I’m going with Our Lady of Victory Monday night over Sloopy from Columbus.

As for the inauguration on Monday… half of us are eager, half of us are rejected.

I’m going with today’s quote from Tecumseh. We need to stay strong together and get through life’s every changing challenges.

My teapot is whistling at me.

Go be astonished on a wintery day

January 18th, 2024

    My dad and I would often drive out into the rural Midwest when I was a kid. Up to Wisconsin or down to Missouri. Over to Indiana and Michigan and across to Iowa and Nebraska.

Often it was a trip that he was sent on to inspect railroad cars and he’d let me tag along. Sometimes we were lucky enough to see old steam locomotives along the way. There were a few still around in my early days.

Everywhere we went had a long handshake and a warm greeting. My dad would introduce me to his railroad colleagues and they all reached down with large vice grip hands.

Railroad yards, grain elevators, warehouses and factories that all smelled like hard work. The foreman at each facility knew ahead of time that I was accompanying my father. When we arrived, they’d hand me a hard hat of my own to wear for the inspections.

Everywhere we went had country music playing and American flags hanging. Men wore heavy oil stained boots and thick bib overalls. They all wore pressed dress shirts and some of the older gentlemen wore bolo ties.

Most of these trips were taken in my dad’s company pickup truck. The seats were like church benches that made it hard to fall asleep for a tired little boy. The truck had a CB radio and a regular radio always tuned in to WGN.

My Oldman was a GN guy. He often called in and talked with Wally Phillips when the topic was railroad stuff. Back in the 1970’s, WGN played a lot of music.

We would also hear the farm reports, traffic reports and the occasional news report.

One of the songs that always reminds me of my railroad road trips with my daddy was by Tom T. Hall called “I Love.”

I woke up to the smell of heavy machinery and cigarette smoke this morning and playing in the back of my head was this song.

I assume the Oldman was visiting from eternal rest. Stopping by to tuck in his grandchildren and tell me that he loves me. He probably just finished an inspection before he visited us and shook loose my memories.

I laid there thinking about long country roads littered with diners and small gas stations with glass bottles of Coke. The hospitality of old railroad men who could bend rail spikes with their hands. I thought about the empty boxcars and flatbeds that became my impromptu playground equipment. Old company dogs that stood guard over me while my dad was checking wheels and weldings.

And I thought about Tom T. Hall playing on WGN…

“I love little baby ducks, old pickup trucks, Slow-movin' trains and rain.

I love little country streams, sleep without dreams, Sunday school in May and hay…And I love you, too

I love leaves in the wind, pictures of my friends, birds of the world and squirrels.

I love coffee in a cup, little fuzzy pups, bourbon in a glass and grass…And I love you, too

I love honest, open smiles, kisses from a child, Tomatoes on the vine and onions.

I love winners when they cry, losers when they cry, Music when it's good and life…… And I love you, too”

Someday when I see my dad again, I want to get in an old pickup truck and listen to soft old country songs and inspect steam locomotives, boxcars and cabooses. Take long country roads across heaven where the corn fields are all perfect and the diners have a pie cooler behind the counter.

I sure was blessed to be a fortunate son to a railroad man.

Time to make a pot of strong black coffee and turn on the Farm report on the kitchen radio. Maybe make some runny eggs and some burnt edge toast.

The best time of the day is the two hour stretch before sunrise. It’s about as close as you can get to heaven or in my case this morning, 1974 Cedar Rapids, Iowa.

Be astonished today. Cozy up to the fire and surround yourself with something that loves you back.

January 17th, 2025

   Two words came into play when I was chalking down today’s quote.

Regret and adversity

(I just erased five paragraphs full of mumbo/jumbo that didn’t belong in words on a Friday morning.)

Let’s avoid traffic jams, long lines at Costco and arguing with assclowns these next few days.

I found a really good recipe for eggplant parm, but I have the Shepkids this weekend.

Pancakes, pizza, Dinonuggies, hotdogs and grilled cheese will be the big requests over this cold wintery long weekend.

I wanted to get Betty washed up, but every Dildo on the west side and his brother-in-law was already in line at the car wash.

Maybe today before it gets cold again.

Be true to your school and let your colors fly. Throw some meat in the crockpot, some favorite music on the record machine and tell a shit ton of people that you love them.

January 16th, 2025

 The hurricane that took a path of destruction from Florida up to the Appalachian coast last September. The wildfires that are currently destroying the Los Angeles area.

Unpopular presidential administrations, Islamic terrorism, violent crime, stock market crashes….

These all come and go, but life must still move along. We must stomp through the darkness to get to the light.

Personal things that hit closer to home like a terminally ill child or the death of a parent.

These are all extreme examples of life’s worst moments. They will continue to come in waves. There will be more hurricanes and wildfires in 2025. Death is always lurking at the doorstep.

I came home to my Oldman’s house for a weekend when he had visitation back in 1983. He asked me what I wanted to do while I was home.

I replied, “I wanna have fun, fun, fun dad!”

His reaction has stayed with me for the rest of my life.

He looked at me with that pissed off, you gotta be shitting me look that he perfected with fatherhood and said,

“Life doesn’t allow you to have fun when you want it. Life gives you a glimpse at fun, that is when you can have fun. Most of the time you are going to get kicked in the throat. You better have your head out of your ass having fun son because a foot is always aimed at your head…”

That speech in the family room at 220 South Lombard has resonated with me to this day.

Wow…… I got all of this from reading over some Hemingway last night and chalking down what I concluded.

What the hell is that Greek or Latin phrase in the Grabber section this morning?

Deus ex machina

Have you ever read a book or watched a movie when something unexpectedly enters at the end of the story?

A person or an event that drastically changes everything all together.

The plot has suddenly changed. The problem is instantly solved. Love has returned, gramma is healed, the lost dog has come back home, the backup quarterback scores, the band gets back together.

Life brings us our own deus ex machina. Don’t expect to find it, you won’t find it…

…it finds you.

It could be worse… you could have woken up thinking today is Friday like I did.

Chicagoland is getting a tiny heatwave before the next arctic blast. Expect long lines at the car wash.

Keep on keepin’ on. The playwright writing your story gave you the perfect part to play.

Sometimes we have a comedy.

Somedays a tragedy...

Be passionate, cry when needed and laugh on cue.