September 10th, 2024

 Tuesday morning, never looked so good.

Though I’m worried the dry and warm September will dampen the colors of autumn in October.

Let’s worry about that when the time comes.

The Harvest Moon will be full in another week. Summer is holding on to its last ten days with a strong grip. The sun is setting directly west of my balcony, making for a firm glare during evening cocktail hour.

Soak up the sun while we have it and enjoy those evening strolls with the remnants of daylight. The evening stroll will soon be accompanied by a flashlight.

I’m going to go make a bowl of cereal….

….be astonished

September 9th, 2024

   We enter a week that has a somber tone to it. This week will mark the twenty-third year since islamic terrorists attacked our country.

Last night my mother-in-law stopped over to have her IT guy, George do something with her phone. I invited her to stay for the Sunday evening cocktail and we watched “60 Minutes” together. They did an incredible show about 9/11, dedicating the episode to the FDNY. Many of the stories and videos they showed were new to me.

As we watched the show together, we talked about that day in our lives.

I had been dating Mrs Bergmann’s daughter for a year by that time. Terese was up at DePaul in a graduate program. I was down on the trading floor and Mr Bergmann was taking the train into the city.

As that horrific morning climbed into the afternoon, we had gathered at the Bergmann’s house, safe and sound.

Mr Bergmann was a labor lawyer that had worked for years with the FDNY and also the NYPD. He was pacing back and forth trying to get information from his colleagues.

Mrs Bergmann flashed into mom mode and went to the store to stock up on groceries. She also made sure we had a good meal and a stiff drink as we digested the events of the day.

I realized something for the first time in twenty-three years. Mrs Bergmann’s daughter held my hand and held me in her arms throughout that historic Tuesday.

On that early September day that brought pain to the world, I was comforted by my future in-laws and my former future wife.

Sitting there last night with my mother-in-law, I realized that if it wasn’t for her family…

… I would have been sitting alone in Oak Park or drunk in a Forest Park Tavern.

We were supposed to fly to Kansas on that Friday, September 14th. We decided to cancel that trip, even though air travel resumed by then.

I have many 9/11 stories. Most of them have been chronicled on the Chalkboard. This was the first time that I’ve written about this part of that day.

Maybe I hid it in the back of my Riddell helmet, but a Sunday cocktail with someone who was with me on Tuesday, September 11th in 2001, triggered the memories. The only good memory from that day was the support that I received from my old girlfriend and her family.

We are in this world together and our time is fragile. I spend time with the Shepkids grandmother even though her daughter thinks I’m a jagoff.

Sometimes I think Norman Lear scripts out my life for me. I really do have that Archie Bunker, James Evans and George Jefferson vibe going on.

My Oldman often said, “the sooner your family figures out that it is dysfunctional, the sooner it can move forward.”

It’s Monday already and it’s National When Pigs Fly Day. A day that reminds us that sometimes impossible things can happen.

Be astonished

September 8th, 2024

 I thought I’d pull down some Billy Shakes for a Sunday with great expectations.

The professional football team that many Chalkheads cheer for is supposedly beginning another new era. A savior from Southern California is going to take our Chicago Bears back to their glory days.

Whatever the Midway Monsters destiny may hold…

… let’s get things clear here.

It isn’t in the stars, but on the gridiron where success can be achieved. Also, God doesn’t give two shits about the outcome of today’s football game.

The stars and God also don’t play a part in how our lives flow. Spirituality and faith can help us get through the day to day struggles, but we control our own destiny. It is how we handle ourselves on bad days that make us appreciate the good days.

“Why, man, he doth bestride the narrow world…

Like a Colossus, and we petty men

Walk under his huge legs and peep about

To find ourselves dishonorable graves.

Men at some time are masters of their fates.

The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars,

But in ourselves, that we are underlings.”

This twenty-two year old kid is playing on a team that has been consistently mediocre for one hundred years.

Bad decisions, nepotism, cronyism, tight wallets and stubbornness have made the Chicago Bears a shitshow football team on a regular basis.

The alignment of the stars won’t determine victory at the stadium next to the lake today.

The alignment of the stars won’t determine if I have an awesome autumn or a miserable fall.

That won’t stop me from getting up everyday. It is all on me to make 2024 end on a solid note.

Soak the brats in beer, slice the onions thin, make the potato salad creamy and put some spice in the Bloody.

It is time to Bear Down.

September 6th, 2024

 The former Mrs Shepley and I never freaked out when the Shepkids took a tumble. We would ask them, “What do you do after you fall down?”

And they would always reply, “you get right back up!”

The Shepkids have been fortunate in their young lives. They haven’t had many major falls compared to other families.

The Shepkids saw their parents fall down when the marriage ended, but they saw us get right up and keep moving.

Last year the Shepkids lost their grandfather, but they watched everyone get back up and continue living.

There is so much parents need to teach their children…

…falling down and getting back up is one of the top lessons in the parenting manual.

I chalked recently that my Oldman always harped that we have no time to slow down and feel sorry for ourselves on bad days.

My mom taught me another lesson. When she fell down, she cried and blamed everyone else. Bad days ruined her week. I learned that this wasn’t the way to operate.

We all fall down in life. It’s getting back up that is the tough part. When the Neosporin and Mercurochrome isn’t enough for the scrapes and cuts…

…then use faith, family and friends. That’s the remedy for recovering from the worst falls.

It’s going to get autumnal this weekend. Well, not really, but don’t let the treat of lower temperatures keep you from pulling out the sweaters. Maybe a pot of chili for Sunday’s Bear game is a little premature, but I’ll have a bowl if you’re making some this weekend.

Finish strong today, be kind and find astonishment in everything.

September 5th, 2024

 I don’t have anything to chalk about this morning.

I’m looking forward already for that cup of coffee on Saturday morning. It might need a piece of coffee cake to accompany it. Maybe a cinnamon roll.

I often ate breakfast at a place called Brokers Inn when I first started down on the trading floor.

They had incredible pecan rolls that they would cut in half and lather with butter. They’d place the cut side onto a frying pan for several minutes. The syrup and pecans would caramelize and the dough would toast on the bottom and become gooey on the top.

For some reason, I woke up thinking about sitting at “Brokers” with the SunTimes, a cup of coffee and that pecan roll.

They tore down the building where Brokers Inn was located around 1994. They replaced it with a state of the art trading floor. A facility that became obsolete within a decade.

That trading floor is boarded up and the pecan roll at Brokers Inn is a distant memory.

I’m going to enjoy the shit out of that cup of coffee on Saturday.

Before then I need to kick the shit out of work for two days. Today might just be the last GoldBond action day.

I’m getting tired of rubbing the nooks and crannies with that blast of minty freshness.

Short weeks are always the hardest work weeks. Let’s get it on and roll into the weekend. Time to meet some new friends and hug some old ones.

I put a smirk of a smile on the sun today. You might want to look down at your shadow this afternoon.

It’s getting longer

September 4th, 2024

 Is there a family member in your life that you aren’t talking to anymore?

Maybe a dear friend that you had a misunderstanding with that you’ve been avoiding?

Ah fuck it… sooner or later things will work out.

WRONG

All I’m going to say about this subject is…

… every morning is one more day closer to heaven. One less day that we have together.

Today is the birthday of someone I love very much. He and his sister haven’t been talking for the last few years. I also love her very much because they are both my cousins.

Uncle Don always said that there are very few people in the world that think we are special. Fewer people in the world that love us. You gotta keep those people around.

Happy Birthday Cousin… give yourself a big birthday present and wake up tomorrow closer to the people that love you.

I didn’t plan on using The Chalkboard to prove a point, but if the message hits close to home….

…. Work hard at repairing lost friendships. Do it today and enjoy the holiday season together.

Just because you were here last Thanksgiving, doesn’t mean you’ll be around next Thanksgiving.

Hump away today and be astonished

September 3rd, 2024

 A new month and a new season. A good reason to make some changes and freshen things up. Time for Moses to take off his sandals.

I’m having a shit show of a situation being a divorced dad to a daughter entering the pre pubescent world.

Every Wednesday afternoon, Betty the Green Blazer is the first car in the pick up lane at Highlands Middle School.

I’ve decided to be a little proactive and nip something in the butt beforehand.

At one point during this sixth grade year, my daughter is probably going to be embarrassed to get into her gross father’s old beater of a car.

She’s going to realize that the “I Love Hot Moms” bumper sticker doesn’t work for her.

Last night I ordered a new bumper sticker to put over the mom sticker. It will be big enough to cover the old one and isn’t as degrading. It simply says, “Be Nice.”

This wasn’t my idea. One of the girls in my inner circle of trust brought it to my attention that the sticker could be seen as negative towards women.

Maybe it’s better not to be the first car in the pick up line with a “I love hot moms” bumper sticker?

Maybe there is already a buzz going on with the parents at Highlands Middle School?

Maybe that sticker is the reason why many of my dates want to take two cars?

These are the little things that I need to do that will make the next six or seven years of Daddying easier.

Betty the Green Blazer will soon be tooling around telling Chicagoland to be kind. Hot Moms of Riverside, Oak Park, Westchester and Western Springs have to find somewhere else for flattery.

Tuesday is going to be a beautiful day to go back to work on.

Labor hard and Be Kind

September 2nd, 2024

 I stayed up and watched football late last night. I had two whiskey sours and I still woke up at three-thirty on a Monday morning.

I’ve turned into my Oldman!

I don’t need an alarm clock anymore and I don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. If I’m not careful, I’ll be eating Grapenut cereal and drinking Sanka coffee.

I know the subject of making America great again turns off 50.1% of the country. I’m not going to make it political. I know America at one time kept the gays in the closet. It kept women out of the voting booth and the boardroom. It had “White Only” and “ No Colored” signs hanging on most everything.

Maybe it isn’t about making America great again, but make America happy again. I think there were a lot of things in the past that were great and also made us happy…

…and I miss them.

Starting with Labor Day. We need some sort of Telethon to wake up to this morning. The Jerry Lewis Telethon made America great and it brought us all together.

We need more music and less talk on the radio. Too many idiots have a microphone and shitty opinions. From sports to politics… take away their soapbox and megaphone and bring back more music programming.

I also miss barbershops. I want to get a crew cut from an old Guy who has bowling on the television and “Playboys” in the magazine rack. The barber chairs back in the day were built like Cadillacs. I sit in a barber chair today and it’s built like a fucking Nissan.

And what the fuck with this Pickleball crap?

Why can’t we have church league kickball or park district dodgeball?

People would go back to church if they knew they could get a keg and play kickball in the parking lot after 11:30 mass.

Wouldn’t it be fun to go over to the “Y” with all your fifty-something friends and wing red balls at each other’s faces?

Sign me up!

Taverns could sponsor your team. Sportsman’s Spa-Dogs against the Time Out Lounge Wild Turkeys. After the game, we all meet for beers with cotton balls stuffed in our bloody nostrils.

I’m also not sure about these bicycles with the big snow tires and little electric motors. Schwinn should make adult size Stingrays. They would sell those like hotcakes to the younger Baby Boomers and older GenXers.

My list of things that would make America great again could go forever.

I’m going to finish with a couple more things before I hang up the phone.

I want Pop served in glass bottles again. I don’t care if I have to schlep them back to Jewels when they are empty. That is a chore that I’m willing to do. I just want to enjoy that first gulp of Coke from the longneck of a cold bottle. I come from a Coca-Cola family, but those bottles of RC with the family size carryout was always a treat.

And carryout…pizza in a bag, not a box.

The last thing that would make America great again is the newspaper box next to the CTA station. While we are at it, bring back the payphone on the corner. The great American shitshow gained momentum when newspaper stands shutdown and telephone booths disappeared.

Time for me to put the chalk down and pour a bowl of Grapenuts.

Enjoy your day off, spend time with someone that says “I love you” and splurge.

Walk over to the White Hen and grab both the Trib and SunTimes. Pick up a box of Maurice Lenell pinwheels and a couple cans of KayO. You deserve it, but don’t forget one last thing….

…be astonished

September 1st, 2024

 I’m kind of ready for the ‘ber months.

I never get sad. My Oldman told me that we should never spend time being sad or feeling sorry for ourselves. Lower your shoulders, arch your neck and push through. I also saw what being sad did to my mom and that keeps me from letting sadness ruin my life.

However, August brought a bit of melancholy to the World of Jumbo Love.

I think it started with my forty year reunion earlier in the month. I realized how quickly those years passed and how I missed out on retaining friendships.

I think about the Sinatra song, “It Was a Very Good Year.” I went from the verse of being seventeen and suddenly I’m in the autumn of my years verse.

Then I got the China Flu in the middle of the month. Yeah, I’m bitter! It’s the China fucking flu.

I felt like complete ass for three days. I still have tight lungs, a chalky tongue, ringing in my ears and my hair feels weird.

The final August kick in the throat was presented to me by an eleven year old girl that told me to “fuck off” the other day. I’m having a tough time dealing with the beginning of these puberty years.

Do I tell this eleven year old that there isn’t time to be sad? I’m worried this eleven year old is going to end up sad like her mother and paternal grandmother.

So, I’m glad the ‘ber months are upon us. I need the comfort of a sweatshirt and an extra blanko. I need a bowl of chili and a spicy Bloody Mary. I need to sit on a tailgate with a bratwurst and throw a football around with a bunch of other broken down linemen. I need a glass of bourbon with a chill of fall on my face and the glow from a fire pit warming the crisp air.

Another phrase my Oldman always hammered was, “This too shall pass.”

He was right again… everything comes and goes quickly as we get older. Today’s problem will be laughed about in six months. Even the bad times will become bitter sweet as these days become memories.

And get ready to hear, “I can’t believe that it’s already September First.” You’ll hear that a lot today, along with, “what happened to the summer?”

In a few weeks we will be singing an Earth, Wind and Fire song and raking leaves with longer shadows.

Be astonished

August 31st, 2024

 Are you a member of a chat group?

Seems everyone I know is involved with a couple text messaging groups on their phone.

Instead of getting together at the tavern or at the coffee shop or at the bowling alley or at the meeting room behind the rectory…

…We text message a group. A modern day version of getting together face to face.

I have a text group with the guys I know from my Chicago neighborhood. I’m in one with my Oak Park buddies. I’m in a couple with colleagues from the Board of Trade. I’ve got a chat group with the guys I currently work with. It is supposed to be market related texts, but there is an occasional political meme.

I’m in a group with the Saint Cletus Cardinals coaching staff. I have one with my rugby buddies. I have one called “Riverside Breakfast” that is used to set up the occasional breakfast at Michael’s Pancake House. I have another one with five guys in the neighborhood called “Riverside Boys.”

The last one involves texting on pizza, bourbon, local gossip, politics, sports and the occasional jab at each other.

Recently I formed a chat group with the guys I went to school with from seventh grade to senior year at Dear Old Cathedral…. It’s called “CKS Boys”

Yesterday was one of the Christ the King boys birthday. We chatted a bit and at one point a picture was posted. Three of the Boys were on a boat in the middle of a lake on a beautiful Friday afternoon.

I looked at that picture and saw three guys that have been friends for forty five to fifty years. When I say friends, I mean thick as thieves.

These Christ the King boys have been involved in each other’s lives everyday or at least every other day since the 1970’s. I was fortunate to become friends with them for a six year period forty some years ago.

I was a little jealous or definitely envious that I wasn’t on that boat yesterday. I was stuck in my trading office while the CKS Boys were jamming tunes, drinking a cold beverage and shooting the shit.

I’ve known these Indianapolis guys since 1978. I’ve known my Oak Park buddies since the early eighties. I’ve known my Board of Trade buddies since the late eighties. I’ve known the Cletus Cardinals since the beginning of the century. I’ve known my Futures International guys for fifteen years. My Chicago Blaze mates for ten years and my Riverside boys for the last seven years.

I’ve got all these groups of friends from different eras in my life. Some of them call me Big John. Many call me Shep and anyone that I’ve met after 1989 calls me Jumbo.

I’m pretty fortunate to have found all of these different groups.

Anyway, it is Saturday morning and the daylight is slowly creeping up into the darkness of night. The waning crescent moon is sitting above the arrival of the sun. It has been beautiful to watch as I think about all the people I’ve met through the years.

Knowing that wherever they are right now. They can look up and see the same moon and sunrise that I see.

Get up and text your friends with a good morning wake up call. Send them a picture of the bacon you’re making for breakfast.

Better yet, text them and make plans to meet for a walk, a growler of beer, a hotdog or Italian beef…

…or even better yet, go meet them on a boat to celebrate Tim Walsh’s birthday.

Be astonished today