February 11th, 2023

 I was about eighteen or nineteen sitting in my dads car in the parking lot of a 7-11. It was a late Saturday morning and we were finishing up our errands.

Usually on this stop the Oldman gets the Sunday Tribune, a lottery ticket, a gallon of milk and a box of Entemann’s. Either a coffee cake or chocolate donuts.…. Oh yeah and a can of Kay-O often landed on my lap when he got into the car.

On this Saturday morning a family was parked next to us. The dad had a map unfolded over his steering wheel. My dad leaned over to the opened window and asked if they were lost.

The wife sitting between my dad and the map gazer snapped off, “yes we are, yes we are! My husband can’t find the Brookfield Zoo!”

The 7-11 we were at is the one on the northeast corner of DesPlaines and Roosevelt Road.

“Follow me…. I’ll take you to the zoo.” my dad replied to the aggravated lady and her befuddled husband.

The zoo wasn’t far from the 7-11, but it was in the opposite direction from our house. My Oldman put the groceries on the back seat, got into the car and told me we were going to the zoo.

We pulled out into traffic with the lost family in tow. The zoo was only five to ten minutes away. This won’t take long. We drive past the parking lot, my dad will point to the parking lot and we will drive away.

….That’s not how it worked though.

My dad pulls out his wallet as we get close to the zoo and he asks me to find the zoo pass. I’m thinking the zoo pass? We have a gallon of milk in the backseat, it’s a warm June day and the Oldman wants to go to the zoo?

We pull into the line for the zoo and the family is right behind us. My dad motioned to them to continue to follow.

We pull to the gate… my dad hands the zoo pass to the guard. Now you have to know Don Shepley. If he goes somewhere regularly people know him and love him. Well, he went to Brookfield Zoo regularly. It was his place to unwind…. The guard and my dad were familiar with each other.

My dad tells the guard, “see this poor bastard behind us? He’s lost, his wife is aggravated with him and his kids are all worked up.”

The guard leans out and looks at the minivan with out of state plates.

My dad continues, “I’d like to get them in and then Moose and I are going to pull right out.”

The guard realized my dad was being a Good Samaritan and waved the car in. He didn’t take my dad’s money or zoo passes. My dad pulled a quick u-turn, waved to the family and we pulled out of the zoo.

We just spent thirty minutes of our day to make a strangers day better.

“Son, someday you might be in that guys seat and you’ll need a helping hand.” Those words stuck with me from that day on.

An off course family from Iowa was sitting in a 7-11 parking lot feeling miserable one minute and then twenty minutes later a bearded guy in a Cadillac takes them to the zoo.

That was Don Shepley… that was an afternoon my dad planted a seed.

One of many he planted through the years.

You just never know how simple it is to make the world a little better. Take the extra twenty minutes to make the world better.

It’s week two of Six Nations. First match is at 8:15 and the second one at 10:45. Ireland and France are number one and number two in the world. So today’s game is bigger than anything the Chiefs and Eagles will do tomorrow. Go Ireland....

February 10th, 2023

I’m hitting the snooze button this morning…. Pulled a little Old Testament for the Morning Chalkboard for a Friday.

Soon we change the clocks and have longer evenings.

Last night I ran to the store at 6:30 in the dark. A month from today the sun will still be up at 6:30. It’s always good to have something to look forward to seeing.

My oldman always said, “you can judge someone by the way they finish a job.”

…..So finish the week strong!

Six Nations this weekend… Go Ireland, Go Scotland, Go England!

Superbowl this weekend… British Bake off marathon on WTTW channel 11 will be more exciting! 

February 9th, 2023

 Most of us have been on Facebook twelve to fifteen years now. Facebook almost has a full generation under its belt. It has gone from a novelty to a way of life.

Being around this long I’ve started to notice certain aspects that can be part of a social study.

When Facebook popped up in 2008 I was happily married with a son. Pictures of my wife and I holding each other holding our son. We had huge smiles and we were next to each other.

A year later our second son showed up and the pictures on Facebook had my wife and I holding each other. Smiling at each other with a toddler and a baby in our arms.

The Facebook years moved along through my marriage and the pictures changed.

Posts of family appeared with the children in the middle of two unhappy parents. My wife on one side and me on the other. We still had smiles, but we were no longer touching. We were no longer next to each other.

2013 came around and our baby daughter appeared in the Facebook photos. By this time the pictures only had one of us with the kids or just the kids. If we had a family shot my wife and I had three kids between us and no smile.

As Facebook continued to embed itself into our everyday way of life my marriage was failing.

There were more pictures of just me or pictures of just me and the kids. No more pictures of my wife and I holding each other. No pictures of my wife at all were posted on Facebook. Then my relationship status changed.

It went from “married” to “it’s complicated” to “single.”

….. and Facebook caught it all. Preserved so all can see, but facebook was still a new tool. I didn’t catch this transformation until the night I was sitting alone in my new home. The night I started removing pictures of my soon to be ex wife.

……Destroying history….

Facebook captured the entire downfall of my marriage and I’ve seen it happen with many Facebook friends. Fifty years from now college students will study Facebook at the turn of the millennium and a chapter will focus on the failure of marriage captured on social media.

We have let this social tool become a future tool for archeologists, psychologists and historians.

This blog is almost over so you can start checking your pictures or your recently separated friend’s pictures.

I hope Facebook is a positive tool as the years go by. I hope someday when my children have milestones in their lives I can post pictures of them with both of their parents. Both of us smiling gleaming with pride.

The banker never wears his Mack in the pouring rain, very strange.

Wear something waterproof today. It’s supposed to rain sideways.

February 8th, 2023

 A couple of you regularly post pictures of log cabins and small houses set in serene settings.

Sometimes the post will say, “can you live here for a year without booze for a million dollars.”

I think about not having my manhattan or martini for a year and then I think about a year in the wilderness and when the twelve months are over I have a million bucks.

I would do it!

The year without booze would be fine, but the goofy daydream doesn’t take into consideration my job, my kids, my home and Betty the Green Blazer.

So I won’t be able to do it.

These cabins set off in the woods with the stream running along the side are beautiful.

The fireplace, the wood burning stove and the sturdy fire pit.

Who is chopping all the wood?

It would be nice to be alone with a couple dozen books, but where is the hotdog stand located? How far?

Is there a decent pizza joint that can deliver a pizza to my serene cabin?

The answer is probably no.

So I’m going to stay where I’m at. A sturdy three flat near the river where on occasion I can hear the lions roar.

A place where I feed my squirrels.

A place where I can have a bourbon drink and a gin martini overlooking Lincoln Avenue.

A place where someone needs pancakes.

A place six blocks away from a decent hotdog stand and pizza joint.

Keep posting the pictures of log cabins located nowhere. They make me daydream, but they also make me realize I’m in a good place.

Fifty years ago today Sister Mary Elephant taught me my first cursive word on a blackboard. The word was “little” and she whacked me with her pointer after I was finished.

I used one line to cross the “t’s” instead of two lines for each of them.

“Jesus Christ Sister, what is the big fucking deal?”

“Mr. Shepley… pay attention to the little details in life you fat little prick or Satan will find a use for you!”

February 7th, 2023

 I didn’t watch the Grammy Awards the other night, but I saw the highlights all day yesterday on television. I’m kind of glad I didn’t watch the Grammy’s the other night.

I heard there was a huge production for the 50th anniversary of Hip Hop/Rap. Rap started for me Christmas break of 1979 when I bought “Rappers Delight” at the record store in Broad Ripple in Indianapolis.

I packed it in my suitcase gently to bring up to Chicago for my visit with my dad. When I got home I played it for my step brothers.…. Once.

My dad wasn’t going to share the turntable accustomed for Tchaikovsky, Chopin, Gershwin, Coltrane and Ellington.

He must have had a buddy who already went through the experience of the first rap record brought home. My dad was prepared to let me know his feelings towards this new genre.

“Son, rap is short for crap!”

I’m looking up at heaven right now shaking my head, “good one dad,” but rap music has outlived you… you old fart.

Several years later I dropped “1999” by Prince in the cassette deck in my dads Cadillac. I had it cued up to “Lady Cab Driver.” You know the section of the song I had ready to go.

Needless to say the cassette didn’t make it out of the alley as my dad hurled it out of the window somewhere around Bobby Alcocks garage.

My mom knew that song. My mom knew not to come in my bedroom when that song was playing. I wonder if she figured out Prince didn’t have a bed creaking in the background of the song, just the moaning.

My parents, more my dad sure as hell didn’t appreciate the music that

I was listening to forty years ago. I’ve turned into my dad because I can’t stand any of the crap they call music today.

Like my father, I listen to Tchaikovsky, Chopin, Gershwin, Coltrane and Ellington. Though they share the table with Bowie, Prince and the Talking Heads.

Never stop listening to music. It is what makes a good life great.

February 6th, 2023

 I probably should have stopped believing in Santa Claus around 1977, but I didn’t. I don’t try to look for magic, I look for miracles and when miracles happen life becomes more mysterious.

Going through the Catholic grade school system in the 1970’s made the mysteries of my faith harder to grasp.

Let’s take the Shroud of Turin. That was huge in the 1970’s. The image of Jesus on a piece of cotton. They wrap Jesus up in this long blanket and put him in a cave. He’s in there for a couple of nights. His image burns into the material and is now on display with all the other church stuff.

Just the fact that some priest or monk found this amazing artifact blew my mind.

It has to be Jesus…

BigFoot was another mystery that had a strong foothold in the 1970’s. This Mother fucker was everywhere. From album covers to the Tonight Show. Astronaut Steve Austin found him in the woods and fought Sasquatch, got his ass kicked and then they became friends.

I was scared shitless Bigfoot would somehow make it to Chicago and rip my arms off. If a six million dollar man couldn’t beat him up than I didn’t stand a chance.

Quicksand was everywhere when I was a kid. Luckily we had streets and sidewalks between my house and school.

Swarms of killer bees were also a threat and there was no way President Nixon or President Ford could stop them.

Not only do I know Santa Claus personally. We’ve been dear friends since my days at The University of North Pole. I have also seen The Bigfoot save a lady from falling in quicksand by the DesPlaines river. She was being chased by a swarm of killer bees. Bees don’t sting through fur so Bigfoot was safe.

Magic is all around… I see it everyday and it keeps me happy. Magic, miracles and mystery keep us anticipating what life brings.

Always look for the magic, it’s right before your very eyes.

February 5th, 2023

 Hazel told me that she had a quote for the Sunday Chalkboard. I was expecting something corny from one of her kid shows. Maybe she learned something from Maya Angelou for black history month.

I wasn’t expecting something like this…..

I’ve got my work cut out.

February 4th, 2023

 On this day for the last fifteen or twenty years I had an annual phone call to make. I would call the mother of a dear friend. One of my closest buddies and the guy that stood next to me on my wedding day.

The phone call started out… “Hello Mrs. Hamilton this is John Shepley calling.”

“John Shepley, how are you doing?”

“Everything is good Mrs. H… Hey listen… I just wanted to thank you today. Thank you for giving me a great buddy. Your son Billy has been a dear friend who has stuck with me through thick and thin. So thank you for bringing him into the world Mrs. Hamilton.”

Every year I’d thank her on Billy’s birthday. It became something I looked forward to doing. There were some years I’d forget to call her son and just talk to her. Eventually I found out that Mrs. Hamilton expected that phone call and she cherished receiving it every year.

The last few years Mrs. Hamilton started to feel her age. Hell… the lady had enough kids to fill a baseball diamond. She and Mr. Hamilton raised them all in a small four square in the southwest corner of Oak Park. She had a good excuse to slow down in her twilight.

So these last few years I’d call her, thank her and talk about life’s events. In the conversation she would ask several times how the Shepkids are, how old they are and their names. Then we would talk about something else and again she’d ask the questions about the Shepkids. I’d repeat their names and their ages and then we would talk about funny stories from the past.

… and then again she would ask about the Shepkids. She was slipping in age, but she knew what was important….. my children. A typical loving mother.

Now here is where the story takes a turn. The last five years Mrs. Hamilton would forget who called when she saw my number on her caller ID.

So she would call the number back and she would call it back and she would call it back.

Shirley Hamilton and I would have the same annual “Billy’s Birthday Phone-call” conversation a half dozen times and every time she asked about the Shepkids.

Well, this year I won’t be calling Mrs. Hamilton on the telephone. I’ll thank her in my prayers. I’m sure Don Shepley will go over and say hello. He loved Billy Hamilton.

This is a good tradition. I don’t know why I started it. Think about who your dearest friend is. You wouldn’t have that friend if it wasn’t for their mother. If you can… call her.

It will make her feel ecstatic and you will be happy after you hang up the phone.

I’ve already picked out a new mom to call on her son’s birthday. Hopefully I can call her for many years.

I just know one thing… I’m going to make the call from an anonymous number.

Today is rugby day….. Six Nations begin today. My favorite rugby tournament that includes England, Scotland, Ireland, Wales, Italy and France.

If you know Billy Hamilton, give him a text or call. This is his first birthday without his mommy.

February 3rd, 2023

 Working on the trading floor I witnessed booze and drugs destroy many young people.

I’m not talking about destroying a career or ending a marriage. That usually happened along the way for these people. These people ended up dying, dying young.

The money starts rolling in and the market closes at two o’clock in the afternoon. Some of these guys had two or three cocktails in them by 2:15 and a couple lines of coke right behind.

Gone too soon….

I’m talking thirty five year olds, forty year olds. I had a guy that would pound two Bloody Mary’s down at Ceres before the open. We opened at 7:20 in the morning.

This guy would get to his desk ripped out of his mind and fling thousand lots into the pit. A huge bank trusted this guy to operate millions of dollars everyday. Nobody knew at first because he was a functional drunk.

One day he was running late for the open and missed his morning drinks. His hands were trembling and he could barely talk. He asked me to send a clerk down to Ceres and get him a to go cocktail.

I fucking did it because this guy gave my trading group $200,000 of business a month. I enabled this one guy and he died at forty eight years old.

That’s just one story.

I have a classmate from high school that has walked this path of pain since our high school days. A kind hearted kid who can’t shake the grip of addiction and depression.

This troubled man reached out on a group chat yesterday. He does this occasionally when he’s dragging along the bottom.

This is a group of fifteen or twenty people that were in our graduating class. I think it was put together for a class reunion.

A group of people from my high school so you know they received the straight F’s….

FOUNDATION: FAITH, FAMILY and FRIENDS….

So this poor bastard is in the right place to reach out. He has our support. We are all with him as we’ve been since the 1980’s.

I think this guy is a regular reader of the Chalkboard.

Since he hasn’t listened to any advice through these last few years… here it is for the last time.

I’m going to tell my old friend, my classmate what I didn’t tell my colleague, my customer on the trading floor. The one who died at forty eight.

HEY…… we have told you countless times that we love you. We have told you we will help you!

You don’t listen….

You don’t listen because you don’t know how to love yourself and you can’t seem to help yourself.

We can’t help you until you start loving yourself.

You are so lucky that you’ve made it into your mid fifties. I’ll be honest, if you see sixty I’ll run naked down State Street.

You get your shit together and I’ll put on my Speedo and my “middle aged dad” New Balance gym shoes and jog from Lake Street down to VanBuren just for you.

It would be painful to lose you Brother… we are tired of watching you take this path.

Don’t give up to the pain and grief. You have thirty solid years of life to live…..

LIVE IT BROTHER!

Reach up from the valley and climb up this steep mountain of glory. Each step will strengthen your foundation and build back your faith. You will see the love of your family. You will find joy in those friends that have loved you since childhood.

John Wagner doesn’t want you to join him on these conditions. Wags doesn’t want you to come to heaven. He wants to see you do what he couldn’t do. GROW OLD!

How about Matt Debono? You think he wanted to die before he was twenty? Fuck no he didn’t! You’ve been given the gift of a long life that Matt didn’t receive. Live for Matt Debono. Run through the meadows that he didn’t get to run.

Your grandfather, the strongest man from Indianapolis. He wants you to become strong and pick yourself off the floor. Show him you can lift the weight.

Only you can end this shitshow you’ve put yourself in.

We have a big reunion next year. Set a goal to finally fix yourself and be clean and on the road to recovery when the Class of ‘84 unites.

You can do this Brother… it must start with you.

We have a full moon this weekend. Look at it with sober eyes and never see another full moon drunken ever again!

This is the Full Moon Challenge… this is the rest of your life old friend.

February 2nd, 2023

 Yesterday handed me the difficult chore of going to court. Always a kick in the dick when you’ve taken the path of divorce.

Anyway, that’s not where I want to go with this….

….the plaintiff was a no show and continues a downward plunge towards rock bottom.

I took advantage of a day in Chicago and turned a negative into a positive. It’s been nearly two and a half years since I took a morning train into the Loop.

After I left the Daley Building, for all you non Chicagoans that the building with the Picasso that looks like an orangutan. You saw it in Blues Brothers.

Anyway, after I left the Daley… I was angry and bitter that I was dragged into the city using a sick day for nothing. Albeit the morning was brisk, the streets were empty. Even back before China Flu when it was cold in Chicago the streets bustled.

I’m walking down an empty LaSalle Street towards the Board of Trade. Ceres standing tall giving me that beacon of hope that she has provided since the Reagan administration.

I left my troubles at the corner of LaSalle and Madison and headed to a happy place. The cigar shop in the lobby of the Board of Trade. I use to smoke two or three cigars a week. Those days are long gone.

Forty minutes with a Churchill calmed my nerves.

Then I walked across the empty art deco lobby into Ceres Cafe. The place where the ex Chief of Police got zipped up at and lost his job. They make the strongest cocktail in the Loop.

I ordered their famous fish sandwich and a Bloody Mary. Thirty six bucks!

The first time I had that sandwich it was piled with six or seven pieces of deliciously breaded cod. Once you picked that son of a bitch up you held it in your hand until the last bite. This sandwich was as big as your sisters ass.

Yesterday it had three pieces of cod that looked like something out of a TV dinner box…. A twenty four dollar sandwich, it was $5.95 when I was a runner in the grain room that first summer down on the trading floor.

A cigar, a fish sandwich, a Ceres cocktail and a beautiful blue day in the city by the lake. It reminded me how much I have in life. Good memories, good friends and a long career.

I met the mother of my children on that trading floor. I was there when she had her first fish sandwich. She ended up letting go and bitching how messy it was….. red flag!

Still, a pain in the ass morning turned into a therapeutic afternoon.

Today is Groundhog Day. All day we will hear about the damn shadow. I’m sure we will catch a glimpse of the movie.

To me I don’t pay attention to a Groundhog and it’s shadow. My barometer for the length of the remaining winter is the beloved Walrus fart. If the walrus farts after breakfast winter will end soon.

Happy walrus fart day!

February 1st, 2023

 The second polar cold spell of the winter. The one this week and the one over Christmas weekend are only a couple days long.

We had some winters in the 1980’s that had arctic blasts that lasted for weeks.

Weeks…….

I’m taking the day off from work today and doing some business in the loop. I haven’t taken the train downtown since October of 2020. Those last seven months were surreal. Some days I’d have the whole section of the car to myself. Very few people went into the loop after covid hit. Stores closed, restaurants shuttered… only people roaming around were traders, construction workers and the homeless.

I’m not sure what to expect this morning. I’m looking forward to seeing any positive change there might be.

I worked downtown for over thirty years. I took the Lake Street el the first couple years and then the Congress el. When I got married and moved away from the CTA I started taking the Metra.

It was romantic to work on a trading floor. The first week I worked down there I wore my trading coat home and hung it on the coat tree in our foyer. My dad got home from work later than me and when he saw my trading jacket he asked me what the hell was hanging up next to his coat.

“Just remember son that all you guy’s screaming and running and waving your arms around are blue collar guys… you are just a blue collar guy Moose! The guys off the floor are the white collar guys.”

That advice stuck with me for five decades and kept me grounded.

Well maybe the one trip to Vegas and the hot tub full of Houston Oiler cheerleaders…. I probably should have been grounded after that long weekend.

I don’t know what awaits for me this morning. There is a very good chance February 1st, 2023 is a game changer. I’m going into the morning prepared for the worst and hopeful for the best…

I wish Heaven on Seven was still open. That would have been a great lunch. Maybe Ceres, maybe Miller’s Pub?

First things first….. gotta take care of business.

January 31st, 2023

 Last day of the month… January of 2023 flew past quickly for everyone accept those who practiced a dry month. Congratulations to you.

Not much to say on this cold Tuesday morning. It is zero degrees in lovely Riverside, Illinois. I sure don’t miss waiting on an el platform for the next train and then getting onboard and the heat isn’t working.

I lived at home the winter of 1989-1990 and I would walk to the Ridgeland el stop with my dad. On the southeast corner of Ridgeland and South Boulevard was a greasy little diner.

An older black man ran it and he knew my dad well. As I started going in more often he got to know me. I was an arb clerk in the ten year pit. Every morning when I’d walk in he’d ask me for a stock tip.

I would simply repeat what I once heard my dad’s friend Ira say, “if it’s cheap, buy it. If it’s expensive, sell it!” …..then I’d order the best breakfast on the Southside of Oak Park.

They tore that building down sometime around the turn of this century. It was replaced with a big condominium building that looks cold and damp. Gone to soon was that gorgeous brick apartment building built in the early part of the twentieth century. Gone were the abandoned store fronts. Gone was the little diner that my dad and I frequented that cold winter. The winter that ended the eighties and began the nineties.

I know that diner is in heaven. I know in about thirty years I’ll be having breakfast with my dad, maybe your dad too.

I don’t care if the Metra is running late this morning. I just hope Betty the Green Blazer cranks up on this cold Tuesday morning.

….Stay warm Chicagoland and make yourself a hot chocolate.

January 30th, 2023

 Growing up before camera phones and doorbell cameras we rarely had the chance to see life unfold. Nowadays it is common to see just about anything.

The other day I saw footage of a moose shake off its antlers. It was amazing to see this moose standing in a guys front lawn in Alaska. That alone was stunning…. Then suddenly this moose starts to convulse and tremble. The antlers just popped off and landed in the snow. The moose reached down to smell the shredded rack and then runs off. Moments later the home owner walks out and picks them up and shows them to the camera.

I watched this moose shed those antlers a half dozen times. It was beautiful to see nature at work.

These cameras are such a huge part of society today. They definitely show us things we couldn’t see just a few years ago.

A camera was there when Oswald was shot or when Reagan was shot. We all witnessed the Space Shuttle Challenger explode after take off. These tragedies were etched and scarred into our minds. The occasional reminder of how horrific life can be.

Today we are numbed by life’s daily tragedy and take it for granted how nature works.

The last couple days I took a video of my drive to work. Over the weekend I dreamt that I was videoing my drive and was hit head on. I woke up immediately from that dream, but that could happen and we see these videos everyday now.

Sometimes we see the good in life. Like the UPS guy dropping off a delivery and taking a moment to shoot hoops with the little kids in the driveway.

Thirty years ago some guy had the mind to take out his fifty pound Camcorder and tape the LA Police beating the shit out of Rodney King. That was the first glimpse that America saw of a daily occurrence.

Even the footage of a white Bronco racing down the highway was captivating for America to watch.

Friday night the video was released of a black kid getting pummeled to death by five policemen in Memphis. America heard this poor kid scream for his mom. The grainy video camera film with no audio of Rodney King is archaic compared to what we witnessed on the street corner near Tyre Nichols’ moms house.

It was so funny to watch those rare home videos with the dates on the corner of the screen. The host would come out on a Sunday night and we would vote for America’s funniest video.

The Johnson family from Ohio and their dog Maxwell on the trampoline. The Ortega family from New Jersey chasing a rooster through the living room. This weeks winner is the Tanner family from Fon du Lac and their baby farting in the bathtub.

I’d much rather watch a cute baby farting during bath time than a senior citizen getting mugged on the subway. Life would be so peaceful if a moose shedding it’s antlers was the breaking news and not a carjacking near Wrigley Field.

Can we go back to Uncle Schlomo bringing his bulky video recorder to the bar mitzvah and not George and his camera phone capturing me brush my teeth on the crapper?

We are all witnessing each others lives at a quicker shutter speed today. I’d prefer going to a wedding and seeing box cameras on every table. Life was simple when there was a PhotoMat in the parking lot by K-Mart.

Today is the last Monday of January. I hope you witness more good in your world today, this week and the coming month.

Don’t forget to watch “Groundhog Day” on TBS this Thursday. It comes on after “America’s Funniest Videos.”

January 29th, 2023

 All day yesterday I listened to the radio and did laundry. The sky was gray and cold landscaped with falling snow. A perfect day to bang out a chore that I despise, but find great triumph when the last sock is put away and the shirts all hung.

Our laundry facility is in the basement and I’m up in the penthouse on the third floor. Laundry day is combined with a good workout as well.

About two loads into the day I received a text message from an old friend.

“I’m downstairs!”

I just walked up the backstairs and I looked out the window and there was my friends car. So now I’m hustling down the front stairs.

The visit was a combination of a couple things. We have been friends since we met at Chris and Tina’s wedding in the late 1980’s. She worked at the Merc and I was at the Board. So we hit it off and the friendship lasted longer than our trading floors.

The visit was kind of a well being check and didn’t last long. I was able to get some things off my chest with someone that I trust.

The visit was a “two birds with one stone” trip for my friend. She grew up in Riverside and her parents still live in the neighborhood.

One of the ongoing subjects on the Chalkboard is my relationship with my Oldman. My stories sparked my friend to go visit her father. He’s eighty three and she knows his day’s are possibly numbered.

First, it made me happy that a dear friend stopped by on a snowy Saturday. More importantly it moved me that the Morning Chalkboard was the catalyst for her visit to see her daddy.

On another snowy Saturday story my cousin sent me a text. My aunt had a knee replaced last week and her daughter is spending a week and a half with her parents.

They are obviously aging as well. My Uncle is probably the most well read person I know. My aunt has stuck with me since day one. That’s over 20,650 days that my auntie has been holding my hand.

So my cousin is down in Indianapolis hanging out (taking care) of her aging parents for nine days.

Back to her text.… Auntie is recovering well. Uncle is moving slowly, but what is so special about this story, the last text….

“I just cut my dad’s toenails. Opening wine now. Smiley Face."

I’d do anything to drive over to 220 South Lombard and clip my Oldman’s crooked ugly ass toes.

Many of us have parents in heaven, but if you still have them, make me envious….

…..Enjoy them on a snowy Saturday afternoon.

The Merc Chick and my Baby Cousin are two strong daughters making great memories while I’m folding laundry and listening to my Saturday programs on WDCB.

The laundry is done and Sunday Funday is Championship football day. I think I need to fill a growler with some BuckleDown and chop some onions.

Chop onions…. That only means one thing, I’m putting a sausage into a bun.

Give Sunday some love, call your parents if you can or do what I do… pray to them. It’s the next best thing.

January 28th, 2023

 The last weekend of Dry January for many of you. In fact this year it seems like a larger number of my friends put the cocktail down.

I’ve seen the posts on delicious mocktails that were enjoyed. I saw some struggles and several triumphs. I also had a couple friends ditch it once the NFL playoffs began.

The weather was great in Chicagoland this January. Very little snow and above average temperatures.

Raised Catholic I have this urgency of guilt because we had such an easy January in the weather department.

As a former Altar Boy I think, oh I know we are probably getting fucked.

I don’t know if it will be long Arctic blasts in February. Maybe it will be monsoons in March and April. It could very likely snow in May and be forty seven degrees on Memorial Day.

…..but don’t fear because summer will come.

You’ll feel it on the fourth when it’s 101 degrees and humid. Bugs all over the place and I’m talking biting bugs, loud bugs, dirty bugs. Bugs in your eyes, bugs on your pie, bugs in the kitchen and bugs biting your thighs.

My Gramma justified cold winters in the Midwest. The colder the winter the less bugs in the summer.

I’d like to see more lightning bugs next summer. More bumble bees and more butterflies.

I can’t start thinking about summer, hell it’s not even Groundhog Day. I gotta get through February and “Sixty Days for Cecilia” before I have to worry about bug bites.

I’ve set a goal for February to read a Mike Royko book, a Studs Terkel book and a David Mamet book. In March I’ll read “The Natural” again. I’ve done it every spring since John Wieland taught it in his Creative Writing class many years ago.

Did you know Bernard Malamud based the book on Camelot? The baseball bat was the sword in the stone. The New York Knights?

Speaking of reading… I read an article this morning about the movies of 1983 that made an impact. I could list a few, but it might make you feel old. The list is incredible and filled with many of our favorites.

I thought about my age in 1983 and how those movies have evolved every time I’ve watched them these last forty years.

Forty Years!?!?!

It’s been forty years since we said hello to Scare face and his little friend. Forty years since Joel was on the babysitter and decided on the University of Illinois. It’s been forty years since the Duke brothers wanted those machines turned back on.

Enjoy your Saturday….. crockpots and couches this weekend.

Maybe some blueberry pancakes for breakfast?

Today is National Blueberry Pancake Day.

Enjoy the end of January and remember, sometimes you gotta say, “what the fuck!”

January 27th, 2023

 There was a pay phone on Maxwell Street just west of the Polish sausage stand. Every once in awhile I’d drunk dial my dad and ask him if he wanted a couple polish sausages.

This is before cell phones, before caller ID. If I called my dad from a police station he would have hung up. Since there was grilled onions involved he wouldn’t be pissed.

Think about it?

Your son is tanked…. It’s 2:51 in the morning….. your son is calling from a pay phone in a shady neighborhood.

Instead of asking me if I’m alright to drive on the Eisenhower he orders two sandwiches.

There was also a pay phone at Gossage Grill and one at Huentitan Tacqueria on North Avenue near Pulaski.

By the time I’d get back to 220 S. Lombard my dad was dressed and downstairs with a pot of coffee brewing. I enjoyed those early mornings bringing my dad a Polish or a cheeseburger or a couple tacos.

We’d shoot the shit for about an hour before I’d pass out on the couch. Waking up a couple hours later tucked in with a pillow and blanket.

I talked with him early this morning. He wakes me up early these days. It’s only fair, paybacks are a bitch.

Unfortunately the Oldman isn’t on his way with a late night sandwich.

This morning he reminded me that he was in heaven with my mom.

“No shit dad! I pray to you guys everyday…. What’s your point?”

My parents divorced when they were in their early forties and battled for the next ten years. They hated each other.

Now they are both in heaven and my dad made a point to tell me this on an early Friday morning.

There is a 99.9% chance that I will live in eternal rest with my ex wife. Thirty years from now a Shepkid will be praying to the two of us.

I haven’t thought about this until today when my dad called and woke me up.

Not just my ex wife will be in heaven. There is also a good chance black people, yellow people, brown people, pink people, Republicans, Democrats, Lutherans, Jews, Catholics and Packer fans will be in heaven as well.

Assclowns that don’t use a turn signal…. They’ll be there.

A friendly reminder from Don Shepley that life together is short. Eternal peace, well that lasts forever.

I call my dad late night to tell him a double cheeseburger with some hash browns are on the way. He calls me with a prophecy from heaven.

I appreciate the call, but I’d much prefer a Polish and waking up tucked in on the couch in the family room.

Every night this week I averaged less than four hours of sleep. Who needs an alarm when your parents wake you up from heaven?

Alright, it’s Friday. It is fourteen degrees outside. Betty the Green Blazer is outside in the cold waiting to take me to work.

We have championship games this weekend, later sunsets and crockpots to fill. I want the Bengals and the 49ers to win.

Last weekend of January 2023. That’s it…. Wont ever happen again. Make it a good one.

January 26th, 2023

 I’m sitting here with Thursday staring me down. Not feeling to enthusiastic about how Wednesday went and not to thrilled about the up coming weekend.

Today I took a quote from "Both Sides Now."

I was laying on a blanket in the grass with a twenty month old Hazel. We were looking up at a beautiful spring sky. Just laying there watching the fluffy white clouds pass along a blue April day.

It was the first time Hazel and I enjoyed finding shapes in clouds.

Before that day clouds just got in the way.

These next couple days will see the last sunsets before five o'clock. We won't have another pre 5:00pm sunset until next November. Unfortunately the clouds will get in the way of today's sunrise. The sun will rise over Lake Michigan, we just won't see it.

I can't believe it's been thirty seven years since the Bears won XX. That game kind of created a both sides now moment. Before that game the Bears were horrible and guess what.... since that game.... the Bears have been horrible.

I gotta get my windshield wiper fixed... until I do, it's hard to see ahead of me. Pretty symbolic on how life goes. Crap gets on our windshield and blocks the view. Life is all about keeping the wiper fluid full and the blades tight.

So keep your windshield clean and enjoy Thursday.

January 25th, 2023

 I woke up at 1:52 already angry at the day. It all started yesterday when I received an email from my ex. Then a text message from the school nurse. Another text message from the school counselor followed that. It happens in three’s.

The kicker is a week from today. I have to go to court because a court order of protection has been filed against me.

This is coming from a person who’s special needs son ran away from home at two o’clock in the morning last spring. Someone who abandoned her two younger children last summer.

I am deleting more paragraphs right now full of angry comments. Venting and deleting, screaming at the keyboard and swiping it off before I hit send.

I have to go to the Daley building with all the other miserable divorced losers and explain to a judge that I’m not a threat. I’ve got to keep my cool and not get angry.

I have to hope the judge realizes that the only threat to this woman comes from herself. This girl lost a good job, a decent boyfriend, a handful of friends and her oldest son and I’m a threat. Her parents had Christmas at my home for Christ’s sake.

I’m fucking angry and my alarm hasn’t even gone off yet!

The Morning Chalkboard has become my therapist and today I need one. I need a therapist, a lawyer, a masseuse, a mechanic and an accountant. What I really needed was about a hundred and fifty more minutes of sleep.

I got the email for this court date on December 5th. It’s been gnawing at me for seven weeks. Throughout the entire Christmas season …Wednesday February 1st has been dangling in my head.

Next Wednesday I’m going to act like a gentleman for Judge Sullivan and afterwards I’m going to walk across the loop and get a cigar. Maybe get lunch at Miller’s Pub and maybe walk over to Grant Park and listen to Vivaldi.

This too shall pass and so will my anger…

It’s Irish coffee day and it’s supposed to snow… those alone should calm me down.

Thank you for letting me vent, my alarm just went off…. Let’s get it on Wednesday!