August 10th, 2024

 My dad often said that a good friend could be someone you haven’t seen in a long time, but when you see them, it’s like you were together yesterday.

Last night I was in a party room in the back of a restaurant with sixty people. Many of them I haven’t seen since May of 1984. Last night it was like we haven’t skipped a beat, even though it’s been 14,691 days since graduation day.

Nobody remembered the struggles we went through those first four years in the 1980’s. Nobody remembered how tough those Cathedral teachers were, but how well they prepared us for life.

We talked about winning home runs and come from behind victories against Roncalli and Scecina. We talked about the last keg we tapped. We talked about making out backstage in the auditorium. We talked about our classmates in heaven and we all smiled like it was 1984 all over again.

The hot chicks were still smoking hot. The jocks were still capable of putting on the pads, but what really surprised me were the introverts. They had the best stories of the night. They had the best view from those days we had together between September of 1980 and May of 1984. In those 1,357 days, they were able to see the drama from the front row.

I ended up in the backyard of one of my classmates until 2:30 in the morning. The breeze was a bit chilly, the sky dark with clouds and a moon in waxing crescent. Our host pulled out a cooler of beer, put his best bourbon on the counter and ended up playing a song on his guitar. A song he will play again tonight in tribute to the recent member from our class to go to heaven.

We took a shit ton of pictures. We hugged each other a shit ton and we gathered as if we just saw each other earlier in the summer.

Last night I realized that I was lucky that my mom dragged me from Chicago to Indianapolis when I was a kid.

The Class of ‘84 out of Dear Old Cathedral is aging well. Everyone has gotten older, but nobody got old. We had each others back then and we have each other today.

That’s a pretty good fucking deal if you ask me.

Get out there today and be the best Chalkhead you can be.

More stories to follow on tomorrow’s Chalkboard.

August 9th, 2024

 I’m about to see a bunch of eighteen year old kids that I haven’t seen in forty years. I happened to be eighteen as well. Reagan was still the president and Mtv was still decent.

Time to go catch up with the Class of ‘84… I never did open up ShepProductions like I promised. No Van Halen stories or tours with Oingo Boingo.

I’m not bringing a hot wife with me and I’m not wearing a Rolex to the banquet. I might talk about the trading floor and how I once lived in Camelot.

Everyone I see these next forty-eight hours knew a kid named Shep who moved down from Chicago. Nobody knows Jumbo from the Bond Room.

At this point we are all a bunch of fifty-eight year old kids that don’t have anything to hide. Our chins aren’t pointy and our bellies are bigger.

It is class reunion time…. those forty years sure as fuck blew by quickly.

Dear Old Cathedral, here's to you

Here's to your colors, gold and blue,

We'll cheer you onward everyone,

Whether the battle is lost or won,

So here's to your sons,

Your fighting team

Let your banners stream,

And we will proudly wave

them to the sky

As we cheer for Cathedral High.

I’m about ready to be astonished this weekend.

August 8th, 2024

 Today’s quote is a Yogism that influenced the Jumboism, “watching shit do stuff.”

I come from a long line of people that sit back and watch the world operate. My Gramma had a nickname in her neighborhood, “Hawkeye,” because she always had her eye on everything. My Gramma told me that she had eyes in the back of her head. I believed her until the day she died.

My Oldman would sit on his front porch and keep watch over the two hundred block of south Lombard. He’d look over the top of his Trib and say hello to everyone.

Now here I am, the next generation of watching shit do stuff.

I’m sure there is a nickname in the Divorced Dad District for the big guy up on the balcony.

I see everything that goes on along my block near the river. All of the dog walkers, the Tattoo Runner, the daily strollers, the couples, the lonely, the sad, the mentally unstable and of course, the hot mommies.

The sun travels to the horizon during my evening cocktail. I know the angle of the sun and where it is every day of the year. Tonight will be the last night that it sets after eight o’clock.

I think it’s important to know where the sun is during the day. That is why I’ve always included the sunrise and sunset times on The Morning Chalkboard.

It is a consistent reminder that we turn the page daily, until we get to the page that says, “the end.”

It is Thursday, the eighth of August. Thirty-six years ago they flipped the light switch for the first time up at Cubs Park. Many Chalkheads will remind us it was a rainout and many more will tell you where they were on 8/8/88.

Today is a good day to be kind, be astonished and to watch shit do stuff.

Enjoy the sunset tonight… cherish that somabitch.

August 7th, 2024

 Several events occurred yesterday that will change the lives of three men that I know.

One of my colleagues returned to work yesterday wearing a wedding band on his finger. From now on when he leaves for work in the morning, he will be leaving his bride, not his girlfriend, not his fiancée.

I also learned that a dear friend will be giving his daughter’s hand away in marriage in the near future. Just yesterday I was invited to this little girl’s one year old birthday party in a park up on the north shore.

Sunrise, Sunset… swiftly flow the years.

The last thing that happened yesterday isn’t so wonderful.

Another guy that I work with lost his wife. She had fallen ill within the last couple weeks. They had been married for thirty years and raised three children together.

Two happy events and a sad one. All three will drastically change these three men’s lives forever.

A husband, a future father-in-law and a widower.

I’ve been a husband. I might be a father-in-law someday, but I’ll never be a widower.

I lost my wife, but I was no longer in love with her when it happened. My colleague lost his wife while they were still deeply in love.

I want to file a complaint with whoever is in charge of things like this.

I don’t find it fair that a man has to lose the love of his life. Someone who shared his struggles. Someone who shared his triumphs and someone who gave him three children to raise into adulthood…

…then she is taken away when it’s time to enjoy the fruits of their labor.

One of the guys on the trading floor said it best yesterday. He said he can understand that we have to go through the loss of our parents at this time in our lives, but not the loss of a spouse.

I just don’t get it, but it’s not for me to understand. When I go to heaven, the guy in charge is going to say, “alright, what did you want to ask me?”

….and I’m going to look around and see that we are all back together and reply to that Eternal Supervisor…

“Nothing, my questions have all been suddenly answered.”

The cycles of life bring us both happiness and pain. Sometimes the pain seems to play a larger part. We need to keep moving forward until the day comes when we all stand around a keg together.

I like that thought…

Someday we will all be at a kegger listening to Sinatra off on a nearby cloud.

Until that day comes, keep on keepin’ on.

It’s Humpday already. It’s going to be a gorgeous day and the White Sox ended their twenty-one game losing streak.

Be astonished…

August 6th, 2024

 The Shepkids are all fans of the Mel Brooks movie, “Spaceballs.” That one didn’t do it for me.

My top three Mel Brooks movies are in the grabber section this morning.

I’m not sure they are ready for “Blazing Saddles” just yet. How do I explain to them that was how comedy was before bubble wrap was invented?

Divorced Dads or at least this one don’t really have a guideline when it comes to “PG” movies or “R.”

I think that has all been thrown out the window.

My dad took me to see the John Candy movie “Stripes” when I was a freshman in high school. I think that was the first Rated R movie that I saw with the Oldman.

I don’t remember all the one liners and comedy from that first night. I remember seeing Bill Murray's girlfriend’s boobs when she was packing her belongings.

Anyway, it’s Tuesday and the next few days are forecasted to be pleasant.

Go out there and be your best, especially during the hard times. That is what today’s quote is telling me…. Abigail Adams is credited with saying this.

Today, the smile on the sun is all on you.

August 5th, 2024

 It’s Monday…. It’s going to be hot, but that’s normal in early August.

Monday mornings are always jammed with anxiety. Anxious to start the new week and get to work.

My mom woke me up three times last night to warn me about something. She was pretty persistent. She slapped me on the forehead on her last visit.

Now I’m wondering if I should drive to work with my hazard lights on?!?!

I should probably cut today’s Chalkboard short and get this party started.

I’m not Nostradamus, but I’ve got a suspicious feeling that something historical is about to happen.

…and no, it’s not going to be a White Sox winning streak. Stick a fork in them.

Let’s go out and be astonished…

… be kind and rewind.

August 4th, 2024

Steve McMichael can go to heaven now. He received is Hall of Fame jacket and uncovered his bust. He lived long enough and suffered long enough in anticipation of this weekend.

The one thing that stood out to me yesterday was all the teammates gathered around McMichael’s deathbed that held canes.

These warriors dominated the gridiron nearly forty years ago and are all now in their sixties and seventies.

McMichael withering away with ALS is sad enough, but the slouched backs and limped walks noticeable during the induction add the exclamation point.

Two players that we didn’t see in Mongo’s celebration were Dave Duerson and Number Thirty-Four.

They are both in heaven waiting for McMichael to be the next member of that ‘85 team to get drafted into eternal glory.

Payton died at the age of forty-six and Duerson was just fifty.

All of our warriors are mere mortals that will eventually play football in heaven. Even Jack Tatum made it to heaven. Actually I can think of one former professional football player that basks in hell, Charles Martin.

They should make a “Field of Dreams” for football.

It can take place in Bensenville, Illinois. After eighty years in business, Victory Auto Wreckers closed its doors to wrecked Chevy’s.

Slowly all the old Fords and Oldsmobiles will be cleared away. Fork lifts and automobile crushers will disappear and get replaced with goalposts and yard markers.

An old junkyard becomes a glorious gridiron. Instead of a whinny Kevin Costner, we have Dwayne Johnson, The Rock as the main character.

The voice of Dick Butkus, “if youze buildt it, dey will come over by dare” haunting the greasy mechanic.

One by one, the tailpipes and transmissions disappear and the turf and touchdowns cover the littered dump. Auto part seekers and tow truck drivers telling The Rock that he is crazy.

Football fans won’t hesitate to plop down five hundred bucks to see Ray Nitschke and Jim Brown grace the gridiron in their former glory.

I know that it was only twenty bucks for the field in Iowa, but that movie is almost forty years old and greed and inflation have pushed admission to appropriate prices.

“Gridiron of Glory,” coming to theaters on Thanksgiving in 2026.

The first Sunday of August is upon us and the heat will bear down. The last sunset after eight o’clock occurs this week.

Anyone want to have a catch?

August 3rd, 2024

My last dream on Saturday morning had nuns in it and can you believe this, they were chasing me because I was causing trouble in the classroom.

Fortunately for me I woke up. Woke up on the couch because my daughter is sleeping in my bed.

I’m working on an essay that I might chalk about tomorrow.

Today, I’m going to keep it quick.

We could get in depth on the quote, but let’s not get riled up on the first Saturday of the month.

Just show up…. That’s most of the battle right there and usually the riskiest part of the situation.

Hot and sunny weather today, so dust your nooks and crannies.

The sun already has a smile, so all you have to do is Just Show Up!

August 2nd, 2024

  I drew up the Chalkboard this morning with the intention of giving some advice on marriage to a younger guy who is tying the knot soon.

The opening line was going to be…

… you probably don’t want marriage pointers from someone who is happily divorced, but this is what I did wrong.

Once I sat down to chalk, I realized that this kid is on his own.

Two times in my life when I was given a shit ton of advice happened when I was getting married and when I was about to become a father.

I’m living in the Divorced Dad District of Riverside, so the marriage tips went straight to the crapper.

Parent advice can help with the foundation of fatherhood, but most of the time it’s all about calling audibles and patience.

I’m going to write a paragraph or two on lost friendship.

I had a buddy that I met in Indianapolis when I was thirteen. He was an introvert and I was a loud mouth troublemaker. We balanced each other out.

We remained close into our late twenties/early thirties and started to fizzle out. He was married and I’m not sure his wife enjoyed my truculent style. I was up the highway living the daily routine of a crazy Board of Trade guy. We had less in common as we aged.

Our friendship happened at the right time in our lives. Everyone cherishes the childhood friendships that last a lifetime and college friendships that last half a lifetime…

…but what about the friendships that quickly get you from point A to point B?

We don’t give that type of friendship the attention it deserves.

A friendship can fizzle because of many circumstances, but that doesn’t mean they didn’t help with the building of our foundation.

Today that one friend that meant a lot to me during a tough patch of time, turns sixty.

My Oldman loved this kid and nicknamed him Gallipoli… if Don Shepley gave you a nickname, you were a decent person.

Happy Sixtieth Gallipoli, we’re going to the Superbowl, going to the Superbowl!

All the friendships we experience are important… they are part of that curriculum that builds the straight F’s in life…

FOUNDATION: FAITH, FAMILY and FRIENDS.

Alright Chalkheads, it’s Friday…

…Go get straight F’s and be astonished.

August 1st, 2024

 Get ready to hear this line a dozen times today…

…I can’t believe it’s already August 1st!

Soon the leaves will have that starched sound to them when the wind blows through the trees. Shadows are already crawling out from underneath and stretching across the fields. Pools will be covered and fire pits will be lit.

On August Eighth, my neighborhood will experience its last sunset after eight o’clock. Autumn is my favorite season, but with it follows sunsets at four thirty in the afternoon noon and I fucking dread sunsets at four thirty in the afternoon.

Tonight the Chicago Bears play a preseason game in Canton, Ohio. This weekend another member of that forty-six defense goes into the NFL Hall of Fame.

Remember all the magazines that came out in August before the start of the football season? Sports Illustrated, PRO, Athlon, Sporting News, Big10 Preview, Street and Smith's.

The joy of driving to the newspaper stand and your Oldman handing you a sawbuck for a couple football magazines. That was when my America was great, but that will never happen again.

My dad is gone, magazines are gone and the very few remaining newspaper stands don’t have much that ten bucks can buy.

I’m not going to let this month fly by and end non eventful. I’m not going to bitch and moan on Labor Day that I pissed away the month of August.

I’m going to enjoy the peak of construction season and the humidity of late summer. I’m going to enjoy the heat on my face and a cold gin and tonic in my glass…

…and I’m not going to fret about the White Sox losing 120 games in 2024.

Let’s get this eighth month of the year started. Put the smile on your sun and spread love like a disease around your world.