June 16th, 2026

 I chalked this quote from Ralph Waldo Emerson. His point is that a minute of anger does not cost you a minute.

It usually costs the entire morning. It can cost a relationship, a night’s sleep, or simply the chance to enjoy something that is right there in front of you.

Every one of us has a list of people, events, disappointments, and struggles that could keep us angry all the way to the two-minute warning of life.

The problem with anger is it charges you interest. It steals the moment, it steals laughter, and it steals an ordinary Tuesday afternoon that we will never get back.

Forgiveness doesn’t mean the other person was right. It means you are no longer willing to let them control your happiness.

Life is too short and summer is too beautiful to stay pissed off.

Get out and enjoy the sun while it shines, and appreciate the clouds that arrived without an invitation.

Angry people have a hard time finding the gusto and astonishment that life brings. You Chalkheads on the other hand, sure as hell can find it.

It is Two for Tuesday…

…. Please don’t let it be the Eagles or Boston.

Deus Vult.

June 15th, 2026

 Monday morning already, and this week brings us into the second half of June.

The funny thing about life is that things never really calm down. There is always another calamity, another obligation, another worry, another shot to the groin lurking around the bend.

So stop waiting for everything to calm down.

Grab life by the throat and yell, “Bring it on, you somabitches!”

The Grabber section shows a couple of winning ball clubs here in town. Let’s not start kissing each other on the mouth just yet.

I’ve seen this scenario before, and most of the time it doesn’t end the way we wanted.

Still, that’s no reason to sit on the sidelines...

… Go toward the commotion, Chalkheads.

June 14th, 2026

     I have this theory that God has a whacked sense of humor.

Think about all the energy we spend hating each other while we are alive.

Blacks and Whites, Shep and Bergsy, Rome and Carthage, Tupac and Biggie, Polish and German. Irish and English. Democrat and Republican, Catholics and Protestants, Cub fans and Sox fans.

We spend our lives building fences, flying flags, choosing sides, and deciding who belongs on the other side of the Monon tracks.

Then God looks down from Heaven and says, "You knuckleheads have no idea what is coming."

Because if His plan is true, eternity is going to be one giant family reunion.

The Polish guy will be sitting next to the German guy eating sausages. My ex-wife and I drinking coffee together. The Irishman will be saving a barstool for an Englishman. The Southsider and the Northsider arguing about what team Harry Carey liked better. While they are both enjoying Old Styles with Ron Santo and Minnie Minoso.

The people who spent their entire lives avoiding each other are suddenly neighbors for eternity. That seems like the biggest prank phone call ever made.

Imagine getting up to Heaven and finding out God put your eternal cloud right next to the person you spent eighty years being pissed off with.

“Lord, there must be a mistake over here.”

“No mistake,” says Jesus. “Pull up a chair. You two are family now.”

Maybe that is why forgiveness matters so much.

Maybe God isn’t asking us to forgive because the other person deserves it. Maybe He is asking because eventually we are all going to be breaking bread together anyway.

The older I get, the more I suspect Heaven is not a place where God separates the people who annoyed us. It is a place where He finally teaches us to love each other…

…. And if that is true, God definitely has one heck of a sense of humor.

June 13th, 2026

         Today I chalked a line from the Ike Reilly song “Devil’s Valentine.”

What makes this lyric powerful is how it rejects both extremes.

Dreams give us hope, and fear is what keeps us up all night. In the middle is a pile of bills, a broken promise, an empty beer bottle, and a career that never quite panned out the way I imagined.

I will never be free of fear, and I will never fully realize those dreams. Most of life is lived on the road between fear and desire.

That is pretty much how I ended up in the Divorced Dad District.

I dreamt about a different life, and I had the fear of losing everything. Somewhere between stop signs, life happened.

I raise the ShepKids on dreams and fear, but they don’t know it.

Every morning, somewhere between a Hail Mary and an Our Father, I tell the devil to go fuck himself.

I chalk on this blackboard, I stand at a trading desk, I pay an overdue bill, I wonder what I’m missing out on, and I wait for another sunset.

Somewhere in between it all, I better figure things out before I become part of someone else's prayer.

One day we all become the name spoken after grace at dinner, the face in a photograph on a dresser, the person somebody misses when a song comes on the radio.

I’m not living a dream, but I’m not having a nightmare either. I’m just breathing in and out the life that was given to me by two people who left before I was ready to let them go.

I’m not sure I would have understood what Ike Reilly was talking about when I was twenty-five, but standing on the doorstep of sixty…

…it makes a lot more sense.

That is why I don’t worry too much about the story my pillow tells.

Okay, Chalkheads…

It is Saturday, and we are moving into the middle of June. This time of year brings long days and short shadows. Perfect for finding the gusto, astonishment, and smiling back at the sun.

June 12th, 2026

 Short and sweet for the Friday Morning Chalkboard.

The quote comes from James Baldwin. Baldwin spent his career writing about the gap between what people felt and what people did.

It is easy to be sad. The challenge is changing that behavior and picking yourself up. You gotta be willing to change.

It is National Jerky Day.

We had a kid on the trading floor that made jerky and sold it in little bags that you can fit in the pocket of your trading jacket. That is one of the little things that I miss from my Board of Trade days.

Happy Friday Chalkheads!

June 11th, 2026

    It doesn’t matter who said today’s quote, Winnie the Pooh, Christopher Robin, or anyone else from the Hundred Acre Wood.

It is the smallest things in life that take up the most room in our hearts.

A plate of sweet corn with melted butter. A summer evening that stays light out until well after 8:30. The sound of kids playing in the backyard. A dog sound asleep on the front porch. The White Sox game on the radio. A text from a ShepKid that says, “I love you dad xoxoxo.” An old friend stopping by for an Old Style. The smell of freshly cut grass drifting through an open window.

When I was young, I thought life was built around the big moments, but I have seen enough life now to know that it is built on ordinary Thursdays in June.

Most of our lives are not spent standing in the spotlight. They are spent sitting around kitchen tables, standing in trading pits, mowing lawns, driving kids to practice, attending church, and breaking bread with people we love.

The older I get, the more I realize that happiness rarely arrives with a second line band or cheerleaders. Happiness often arrives quietly and unannounced.

It shows up in a flashback, conversation, a memory, a laugh, or a familiar voice on the other end of the phone.

Maybe that is why the smallest things take up the most room in our hearts. They are the things that make our lives happy.

Not the selfies and usies that fill our smart phone, but the ordinary moments that fill our souls…

… and June Thursdays, that will bring gusto and astonishment.

Okay you Chalkheads, keep your hearts full and those thighs and cheeks powdered up with GoldBond today.

June 10th, 2026

     Today’s quote is walking a fine line.

Through the years, I’ve become less sensitive to what other people think of me. There are certainly people walking the earth who think I’m a jagoff. Thankfully, none of them are part of my daily life here in the Divorced Dad District.

A couple of former colleagues, my ex-wife, and a few old friends who had the audacity to put ketchup on a hot dog in front of me come to mind.

The other side of that fine line is convincing ourselves that we are the smart one and everyone else is an idiot. That is where the old saying comes in…

…opinions are like assholes. Everybody has one, and they usually both stink.

History gives us plenty of examples of people who were hated, ridiculed, or dismissed, yet stuck hard to what they believed in. Socrates, Galileo, Abraham Lincoln, Winston Churchill and Martin Luther King Jr are the ones that came to mind.

The lesson isn’t that they thought everyone else was foolish. The lesson is that they were willing to stand alone when they believed they were right.

Most of us won’t be remembered in the history books. We won’t have statues in Grant Park, or National holidays. We can still follow the same path on a smaller scale.

Stick to kindness.

Stick to integrity.

Stick to honesty.

If you do that, you will earn the respect and recognition of the people who actually matter. Your family, your friends, your neighbors, and the people who know how you act when nobody is watching.

It is going to be another hot and humid day today. Apply the Gold Bond generously to those nooks and crannies. Don’t let a little sweat on your brow keep you from enjoying the astonishment that June 10th has waiting for you.

June 9th, 2026

    A wet morning to start out this Two for Tuesday, with a warm and humid afternoon waiting in the on-deck circle.

Speaking of Two for Tuesday, some mornings the first two songs come from bands I enjoy. This morning wasn’t one of those mornings.

I turned on 97.1 The Drive. I’ve never really liked the station, but since The Loop went off the air, it is the only classic rock option available in Chicago

And what was the first band they played?

The Eagles.

Now, I can handle The Eagles in small doses, but not “Hotel California.” Not before sunrise, not before coffee and definitely not before I have done my fat cheeks yoga.

Not exactly the start I was hoping for, but if this is the worst thing to happen today, June 9th, 2026 will be a good day.

Today is also Donald Duck Day.

Like a lot of kids growing up in the 1970s, we all had two impressions we did at family get togethers. The first was Howard Cosell and the second was Donald Duck. The Howard Cosell impression annoyed the adults. The Donald Duck impression nearly destroyed our vocal cords.

Our throats always hurt after the Donald Duck routine, but that never stopped us from doing it again.

Which brings me to today’s quote….

… “It is difficult to free fools from the chains they revere.”

Voltaire wasn’t talking about handcuffs or prison cells. He was talking about the things we cling to even when those things hold us back.

Sometimes the chains are bad ideas. Sometimes they are old grudges. Sometimes they are habits we have carried so long that we mistake them for routine. The funny thing about chains we revere is that nobody has to lock them on us. We do that all on our own.

The challenge isn’t finding freedom. The challenge is deciding when we want it.

In the meantime, I’ll try to survive another spin of Hotel California and be grateful my biggest chain this morning is a tired song from the seventies. At least it wasn’t Stairway to Heaven!

GoldBond up Chalkheads!

June 8th, 2026

  Most people think bravery happens on battlefields, in burning buildings, or during headlines that make the five o’clock news.

The truth is, most bravery happens on ordinary Monday mornings.

A father getting out of bed before sunrise and heading to work. A mother worrying about her children long after they have become adults. A husband sitting beside a hospital bed. A wife holding a family together during difficult times. A son carrying memories of his parents who are now in heaven.

Love is what gives courage its purpose.

Without affection, bravery becomes recklessness. Without something to care about, there is nothing worth sacrificing for.

Eighty-two years ago, those young men climbed into landing craft and crossed the English Channel. They were scared, but fear took a back seat because they loved something more than they feared.

They loved their families, their hometowns, and the hope that future generations would live in freedom.

The same principle applies today on a much different scale.

The dad coaching Little League after a long day at work. The woman checking on an elderly relative who can’t get around. The parent helping a child navigate a difficult school year. The friend who answers the phone when someone is struggling.

None of these people will receive medals. Yet each is fighting a battle on behalf of someone they love.

As I get older, I have become convinced that the things worth fighting for are remarkably simple: faith, family, friendship, community, and country.

The older I get, the less impressed I am by people who boast about themselves. I am more impressed by people who quietly carry responsibility.

Because courage is not measured by how loudly a person talks. It is measured by what they are willing to protect.

… and every brave man or woman I have ever known had one thing in common, they loved something more than themselves.

Have a good Monday, Chalkheads. Make it count.

June 7th, 2026

 Sunday’s quote is from Khalil Gibran.

It is simple, but there is a lot packed into it. Gibran isn’t saying life and death are identical. He’s saying they belong to the same journey. A river doesn’t end when it reaches the sea, it becomes part of something larger. The river’s shape changes, but the water continues.

For me, It’s simple, I can’t control the current. I can only swim downstream and hope the ocean forgives me when I arrive.

I know I chalked a cloudy day with rain later, but the sunrise suggests otherwise. The orange glow came quickly over the lake. Reflecting softly off the bottom of the whispering cloudscape.

Off to find gusto and astonishment on this 7th day of June.

June 6th, 2026

    Today’s quote comes from Tolstoy’s War and Peace. The grabber section points to June 6th, the anniversary of the Normandy invasion.

Sometimes I wonder what the spirits and ghosts of those young men who died on a beach in France eighty-two years ago would think if they could see us now.

For the last twenty-five years, it feels like we have been fighting a different kind of battle. Maybe it started on Wednesday September 12th, 2001. The day afterwards….

Somewhere along the line, too many Americans began seeing each other as enemies instead of neighbors. Some of us love America and some of us don’t.

Next month we celebrate 250 years since a collection of farmers, merchants, laborers, and dreamers told King George to go ‘F’ himself and pound some sand. Two hundred and fifty years of victories and defeats, prosperity and hardship, good decisions and bad ones.

Eighty-two years after D-Day, and I’m living in the Divorced Dad District.

I’m trying to raise three kids who will love each other, love life, love their faith, and love their country.

Eighty-two years later, I still worry about bills, but I have a solid job.

Eighty-two years and I’m in a heavily taxed state, but my neighborhood is safe and my neighbors are friendly.

Eighty-two years later and my church isn’t as crowded as it once was, and my parents aren’t sitting in the pew with me anymore, but the Gospel remains unchanged.

Eighty-two years later and we still have a country worth fighting for. A country that needs our support. A nation that needs appreciation.

None of us will be asked to jump from a landing craft while nazis fire machine guns from a bluff above us. Our duty is different. We honor those who fell by building something worthy of their sacrifice.

This morning I will buy gasoline that costs more than I want to pay. I will buy groceries that thin out my wallet a little more than I’d like.

On the other hand, I will make breakfast for people who love me.

Later, I will have a hot dog with people who love me.

Tonight I will break bread and give thanks with people who love me.

All because a bunch of kids stormed a beach on the other side of the ocean.

So go get the gusto and find some astonishment today, Chalkheads.

Show the spirits and ghosts of June 6th, 1944, how grateful you are for the opportunity of June 6th, 2026.

Live a life worthy of the gift they left behind.

June 5th, 2026

 I looked at the quote that I chalked and saw that the Grabber section points out that it is National Donut Day.

It reminds me of something my Father-in-Law often said before a good hearty meal…

"I would rather enjoy this steak today than have to eat gruel in the future.”

What he was saying is to enjoy life to its fullest, take care of yourself and go out on your terms.

… And that is what my Oldman through marriage did. He never ended up in a nursing home. He fell in his kitchen making dinner in late October and went to heaven in early November.

Now I’m not going out and eating a dozen donuts today, but I’m going to enjoy the gusto life brings me.

The first weekend of June. Perfect for a glass of German wine, a Cuban cigar and Gershwin’s Rhapsody in Blue.

I’d like to be doing that on the front porch of 220 South Lombard with my dad, but we only had a brief instant together.

Maybe that is why these small pleasures matter.

The cigar burns down, the music ends and the wine glass empties. The people we love leave sooner than we'd like.

So enjoy the donut.

Just don't forget to savor the day that comes with it.

June 3rd, 2026

I put a smile on the sun today. That alone should lead you Chalkheads to gusto and astonishment.

Today’s quote comes from a Persian poet, scientist and scholar from over one thousand years ago.

I think what Omar is telling us is….

…Quit waiting for the next thing. Summer is upon us. The coffee is hot, the sun is rising over the lake and Wednesday is here for a moment.

Christmas sounds far away when I put 205 days in the Grabber section. It will be here in a moment.

The shadows are short today, but they’ll start getting longer in three weeks….

… Eat some fruit, call a friend, change the sheets, pet a dog and drink whiskey!

June 2nd, 2026

 I remember the first time I had Rocky Road ice cream.

I was probably ten or eleven years old, and right away I thought there was too much crap going on. Too many textures and too many flavors competing against each other.

I came from a family that kept ice cream simple. One flavor in the bowl and maybe one topping on top.

My mom was a chocolate ice cream person. Her mom, my Gramma in Indianapolis, was strictly vanilla. The Oldman loved New York Cherry or Pralines and Cream. I became a mint chocolate chip guy, followed closely by butter pecan.

Let us take this discussion a step further. The battle between soft serve, traditional ice cream and gelato.

When I do soft serve, I do the combination twist, vanilla and chocolate swirled together with a chocolate dip top. In our neighborhood we have the little hole-in-the-wall in Oak Park, Polar Bear in North Riverside and Highland Queen west of Mannheim Road toward Hinsdale.

When I’m feeling nostalgic for ice cream, I drive up to Petersen’s in Oak Park or Margie’s Candies in the city.

Recently, I was introduced to a Boston Cream shake.

I never seemed interested in one because I dislike almost everything associated with Boston. Outside of Larry Bird and Marky Mark, Boston blows. My hatred with Boston has shortchanged me out of this delicacy well into my post-middle age years.

Think of being involved in a threesome, but instead of a blonde and a redhead, it is a milkshake with a hot fudge sundae plopped right on top.

You need a straw for the shake and a spoon for the sundae. The Chalkheads that are priests are expecting to hear a confession now.

Gelato, however, is the Cadillac of the creamery world. My go-to gelato is pistachio. Whenever I have gelato, I’m usually with an Italian.

Nothing pairs better with gelato than an espresso, very adult stuff. Gelato requires a refined palate and enough patience to slow down and enjoy what life has brought you. Don’t rush a gelato…

Today may be National Rocky Road Day, but the chalkboard also says sunshine and 76 degrees. That sounds pretty close to perfect.

Grab someone you love and go get some ice cream. Soft serve, traditional or gelato. A bowl, a cone, a malted or a sundae. It doesn’t matter, just treat yourself.

Go grab the Boston cream shake, but leave my dirty mind out of it.

The older I get, the more I realize life doesn’t need nearly as much Rocky Road as we think it does. Most days are better when they are kept simple.

A little sunshine.

A little conversation. Someone you care about sitting across from you, and something cold melting faster than you can eat it.

There is nothing but astonishment and gusto when ice cream is involved.

June 1st, 2026

   

The older I get, the more I realize losing my parents isn't something that happened the one time.

It has happened over and over again.

It happened when my car made a strange noise and I reached for the phone before remembering my Oldman isn't there to tell me what he thinks it might be. It happened when life throws a problem at me and I find myself wanting to hear my mom’s voice for just five minutes.

It happens on bad days. Days when I am fucking tired. Days when being an adult feels like a lousy deal. Days when I just want to walk into my parent’s home and get into my old bed.

When we are young, we think losing our parents is about funerals. We think grief is crying, prayer cards, flowers, and tuna casseroles.

The truth is grief sneaks up years later. It arrives when we need advice. When we need reassurance. When we need someone to listen.

We come into this world naked and confused, handed to two people who somehow know exactly what to do. They spend years teaching us how to walk, talk, work, love, pray, drive, and survive. Then one day they are gone and we are expected to continue the journey without them.

Nobody warned us about that part. Nobody warned us that one of the hardest parts of growing older is realizing our emergency contacts are disappearing.

Friends move.

Families drift apart.

People get busy.

The phone gets quieter and the text messages get shorter.

We have never been more connected and yet so many of us have never felt more alone.

I still talk to those people who have gone up to heaven. My parents, old friends that left too soon, mentors who shared their wisdom and relatives that I miss spending the holidays with.

Most days it helps, but every now and then I wish one of them would answer back. Not with some profound wisdom or even taking the liberty of bullshitting me.

Just enough to say, "I'm listening." Or maybe, "You're doing better than you think."

Or maybe the words every tired son still wants to hear: "It's going to be alright, this too shall pass"

Maybe that is why we need each other. Not to solve every problem. Not to carry every burden. Just to remind one another that none of us are walking this road alone. Even on the days it feels that way.

I put the Chicago baseball club’s records in the Grabber section. I am blessed to have seen my White Sox win the final game of the 2005 season. My mom was a Cub fan. She passed in May of 2016. The beginning of the season when the Cubs won their last game. My Oldman was a Saint Louis Browns fan. He was a miserable son of a bitch during every baseball season.

We have one less day to find astonishment and Gusto. Go get it and enjoy June you magnificent Chalkheads.

May 30th, 2026

 “It's called survival and only the strong can survive, It's called survival in order to stay alive.”

Grandmaster Flash wasn’t talking about comfort, luxury or convenience. They were talking about making it through another day when life wasn’t interested in making things easy.

Most people spend part of their lives surviving.

Surviving layoffs, breakups, funerals, doctor appointments, empty bank accounts, sleepless nights, and phone calls we never wanted to receive.

We survive raising children without an instruction manual and watching our parents grow old.

We survive becoming the age we once thought was ancient.

Survival never is celebrated. People cheer victories, applaud championships and admire the success stories.

Before every victory came a season of survival. Before the harvest came the drought. Before the sunrise came the darkness. Before the comeback came the stubborn refusal to quit.

In the grabber section on today’s chalkboard is the Latin phrase “frusta ut ubera tauri.” Many Catholic school kids have heard it during the survival years of catechism. It means as useful as tits on a bull.

Life is full of things like that. Grudges can be that way. Excuses can be that way. Worrying about things we cannot control can be that way.

So can spending too much time trying to impress people who have already made up their minds about us.

The trick isn’t collecting more baggage. The trick is figuring out what is useful and what belongs at the curb on garbage day.

This Saturday morning, maybe the goal isn’t greatness. Maybe the goal is simply to keep moving forward.

To show up.

To do the work.

To say a prayer.

To make the coffee.

To call someone you love.

… and if that’s all you accomplish today, don’t dismiss it.

Sometimes what looks ordinary from the outside is actually survival.

… and survival is how every good story stays alive long enough to reach the next chapter.

Gusto, astonishment and JumboLove

May 28th, 2026

 The quote I chalked today is from Rudyard Kipling.

It is timeless because most people overreact to both victory and defeat. They let success make them arrogant and failure make them quit. Kipling’s point is that both are temporary and that both can lie to you.

Triumph tells you: You are untouchable.

Disaster tells you: You are finished.

Most of the time neither one is true.

Like Don Shepley always reminded me…

…The same world that gives you a standing ovation will quickly turn around and kick you in the ass.

Today is National Hamburger Day.

My best memories of a hamburger are with my Oldman.

The Wabash Inn hamburger served with a tulip. The Gossage Grill hamburger served with hashbrowns and a cup of black coffee. Goldyburgers with a hot bowl of their great soups and a cold bottle of Old Style.

Though the best hamburger in my humble opinion will always be at the BillyGoat. My first visit was with my father when I was too short to climb a bar stool.

Since then…. I have brought my buddies, third dates, out of town friends and the Shepkids.

Enjoy your favorite hamburger today…