My sister, Winnie, was asking about our holiday traditions. It gave me some pause. I guess the things we consider traditions on Cullom are things we just naturally do, but particularly at this time of the year. There aren't any Advent calendars here.

For many years we had a dinner at the Berghoff. After it closed to the public, we did some dinners in the house. But these always seemed to be forced events. We've had some great dinners this year, unplanned but great feasts.

What I think we did that was different, though, was readings. This year we read Damon Runyon's “Little Miss Marker.” Jane said it was turned into a movie starring Shirley Temple. I seem to remember that too.

In previous holidays we've read from James Joyce Dubliners, “The Dead” is a great holiday piece with a lot of depth, as you'd expect from Joyce. The Dickens novel “A Christmas Carol” was popular around here for many years. It is also a time of the year when people have a lot of time off. We've done film marathons around the house.


Jane loves the hockey movies, “Youngblood,” “Slap Shot,” “Mystery, Alaska.” So we did that a few years ago. We added several movies to that group, “The Rocket,” “Slap Shot 3,” this year and “The Chiefs” last year.



Looking through this hockey stuff, it appears the only movie we don't have is Strange Brew. Gift idea?

Myself, I've always enjoyed adventure. Michael Pallin has done a number of series including “Around the World,” “Pole to Pole,” "Full Circle" and his new series on the Europe. These were great to watch over the holidays that included some time in the hospital.

There are more of his adventures on line, too, that we haven't seen. This much better stuff than Rick Steves. And, of course, dropping another hint for a gift idea.

There was also the great Michael Apted “Up” series. When the new Up is released, we bring ourselves up to speed on the various members of our generation who we've followed. And, then we discuss whether we are most like Tony or Susan...

As I think about it more, there was also the "Father Ted" year. I'm sure Jane and Ceili will remember other things we watched or read too.
This season Jane and I purchased the “Irish R.M.” series. We've finished about half the series already. If you're not familiar with it, it is the story of the final years of the Hiberno-English Aristocracy, before the first World War ended that style of life.

In any case, this goes all the way back through my marriage with Anna. Between reading to each other and settling in for a winter night to catch up on our films, we've managed to fill many long winters through the years.

I can never figure out whether the animals can talk to you on the midnight between the 23rd and the 24th or the midnight between the 24th and the 25th. Anyway, I missed the first date, I was sacked out. Another headache struck. There have been a string of them this fall.

I hope you enjoy our oak tree. It is the second year we've used it. We have an artificial tree. The tradition here was to decorate it until it fell over. Little did I realize I was dealing with the queen of tree decorating. Jane's December decorating turned into these forced marches. We had to finish the bloody tree. The fun of Christmas turned into I am tired and don't want to deal with it anymore as we tried to put up my numerous decorations, Jane's, her mom's, her aunts, her 3rd cousin (once removed).

I'm sorry, I know the Danielson's are reading this too. But it was way over blown. It was the result of all the decorations for several generations, on both sides, coming home to roost.

We'll return to a traditional tree again. But not this year.

I described this to my sister-in-law Sallie Z. as our conceptual tree. I think you see what I mean. It's just some slats that are crudely put together with the lights. I like it. It is perfect for a small city apartment. In addition, I think it reminded us of what was important about this holiday.

The storm that has been battering the US all week finally seems to be passing us. There's about a foot of snow in the yard. The electric snow shovel I purchased at the start of the season has died, already. A new one is sitting in the living room to take its place (perhaps I should wrap it?)

I called cousins in Ireland earlier in the week. Susan S. told me it was mild, with temperatures about eight C. I told her I'd trade her straight up, her eight C for our eight F. LOL. Sunday and Monday were about the worst of the storm. We've been hiding in the apartment. It got so bad, we had to make a food run on Wednesday, as the fridge and freezer were empty. With the holiday, Ceili coming in and more weather possible, that was a problem. So BIG food run on Wednesday.

On Monday Jane and I met at Wrigleyville with the manager of one of the rooftops to shoot pictures before the game next week. If you don't know what game, come back here next week.

It was one of the glorious winter days when there is NO cloud cover. The sky was bright blue and the shadows were sharp on the ground. Of course it was also seriously cold. We had to climb some scaffolding on their bleachers to shoot the best shot. From up there, about five stories up, the wind whipped across Wrigley Field. I was able to get the shots, but it was tough conditions. We'll put a skyline shot here when Jane has a moment.

We really need this story published somewhere besides the ChiTownDailyNews, so keep your fingers crossed. (It will be in the CTDN too). The fact is we're having problems with the kids who are running the PR departments at the Bhawks and the Wolves too. They've never worked professionally before, have no idea how stories are sold, and like to say NO. The result is our blogs are suffering, our readers are suffering and we're getting pissed off. Having some published material should help change things next season.

Still another contact with a long lost. Jim G. and Jenneine R. wrote a real nice card to us. I've missed them. It was a friendship that sort of suffered about the time Jane moved to Chicago. There were so many friendships from that time that have suffered. Writing to Jim and Jenneine, I described one aspect of what has changed as the elephant in the living room. It is one of the bad karma things that should have gone well that turned into a negative instead and now everyone becomes defensive discussing it. Hopefully there will be more friends coming forward and more elephants identified. This is one elephant I wouldn't mind killing.

I'm still looking for my college friend (I'm going to break one of the rules of the blog and put his full name here in hopes he Googles himself. Maybe he can find me?) Robert E Foster of the US Army Corp of Engineers, Eastern Illinois University and Cedar Lake, IN. (Those tags should help him find this easier).

Honest to god, I'm about to give up on this guy. He moved to Connecticut, married and disappeared. Bob, if you read this, leave a comment with your contact information. I approve all the comments, so it won't be read by your enemies, or whatever. LOL. We need to catch up. Jack and I have some great whiskey and stories for you. (I believe Jack has some great cigars too. LOL).

That would be a great Christmas gift. Preferably this year, but next year is okay too.

The strange new act of Googling your own name is humorous and disturbing too. When I do it a person in New York comes up who embroiders vestments for the clergy. And, he is well known in that area. Amazing. Jane's love of embroidering and my name. My pen name (Patrick Kissane) is basically owned by me, so that is pretty cool. But, I've got to work out the Lou Grant stuff. I don't want Lou around anymore. We're discussing how to let him go, you know, lay him off. LOL Another victim of the downturn in newspapers.

Oh Shakespeare, how would you deal with multiple personalities and identities today?

Anyway, Jane and I hope everyone reading is well. We wish you a Merry Christmas, unless you're in Ireland. Then we wish you a Happy Christmas. As well, a healthy, prosperous and happy New Year.

Merry Christmas!

Well, here we go again. A second cold this winter. Thanks Jane.

As the red head and I hunker down, again, for a sneezing, blowing, watery eye, dry lipped Sunday, I thought it might be nice to put together a sort of holiday letter to family or about family. I've never, ever done one of these things, so watch out.

The job hunt has changed directions. It would be a fool's errand to try to put together anything in the private sector at the moment. Besides which, the years of work seem unappreciated by the former employer. Going back to the drawing board makes some sense.

It is the one continuing worry here. Thankfully we are financially secure with unemployment, but that won't last forever. At some point in the process, before the Oregon trip, I discussed with Tim M of the Econ department at my undergrad school the idea of teaching workshops on the subject of creating business plans.

As I have time, I'll update the Linkedin profile so that it represents the new interest and discusses why this is a good idea for me. Tim explained that there was an even better idea, namely that four year colleges often hire people like me to teach courses as adjunct professors.

I can already hear those people who remember me from St. Peter Canisius saying “hey professor.” Yep, that was my nickname back when. I don't remember what caused that. I think it was an interest in science that was killed by a high school teacher. Shame on her.

It turns out there is a very small market for independent people writing business plans. That work usually is performed by a company's lawyers or accountants. However the inquiry did discover there was an interest among colleges in people who have business world experience, in working with undergrads. After lots of work with the grad school and the undergrad school, I began putting out resumes last week.


Things continued to melt down in the state this week. The arrest of his royal hindness on Monday being an obvious sign. It is hard to see how the State of Illinois can cleanup its act. Normal people are saying thank god for the US Attorney. The Governor's crimes have been known for years.

Why don't we just vote him out of office? I suppose that in retrospect, Judy Baar Topinka was the better candidate two years ago. I really don't remember how I voted. I suspect I voted for Topinka, but can't remember.

The GOP has simply disappeared locally. Congressman Rahm Emanuel, who is becoming the White House Chief of Staff, had a Republican opponent. But the man was handily defeated.

That's unusual. Blagojevich is a typical response to the dominance of the Democratic Party. He would be far more comfortable as a Republican. But, how can you get elected as a Republican? This isn't to say that all Republican's are crooked, but to say that his policies were more in line with the GOP, BTW.

So, the Democratic Party has people who really have Republican world views locally. (Fast Eddie Vrdolyak is another good example). How to get the party healthy enough to run under its own banner?

The scandal is causing all the rats to scurry for cover. Hopefully people will remember the scandal in two years and begin electing new blood. Look, Daley, Stroger, Lipinski, Madigan, Blagojevich (and Mell), Jackson. All of these current political family names willed their political power to their offspring. This is a terrible situation for democracy. Each of those names, BTW, Democratic.





I wanted to put some more pix up from the Oregon trip. They are on a slide show on the kitchen screens. I just love the pictures of Ceili, Ceili and Kaitlin together. Working with our friends Mike and Nancy, Jane got their slide show together a few weeks ago, it led to our finally getting our slide show together too.

All these great photos from years back are coming up. At one time Ceili took one of our first digital cameras out and shot pictures throughout the neighborhood. Lots of things I've never noticed.

Of course, I noted how much Ceili has grown into a beautiful woman. Adam, our neighbors son, is now in high school. Danny turned into a little jerk and thankfully moved away.

Between Anna's initial push and Jane's final push, the rear yard has been transformed. I'll take some credit for the hard scape ideas, thank you. There are great shots of our egg “hunts.” The old siding, the peeling yellow paint on the garage...

From time to time I meet Kim as she heads out to work in the morning. I kid her that the men in the building are thankful that the women are supporting them. I know it irritates Kim. And I love her for that. Brian reminded me that he moved into the building ten years ago October. I was digging through the garage, throwing out old papers and found his initial application for the apartment.

He's become a friend. His son and now his step-daughter, have grown here. And it has been wonderful.

While Kim has been freaked out that there are only two payrolls paying for everything. I think Brian and I, who both went through divorces while living here, have been through worse. Things will be okay.


Finally, no Florida trip for us this year. The story of why we have a house in Florida needn't be discussed here. For the first time in about five or six years we decided to use the place, and it won't work out. So, Christmas in Chicago again. Yea!

Our last visit there we managed to take in a night launch. Ate some great seafood... Our plans this time? Take in a launch and eat some great seafood. Progressive huh?

November 19-- New film by people who brought us Once

The people who brought us “Once” are out with a new film, Eden. I’ve seen the trailers. Okay, I’m hooked on Irish film; I want to see it. Once was an outstanding independent film that I hope everyone had the chance to see. Unfortunately, no screening dates for Chicago yet. Here’s the website.

November 19-- Looking toward Thanksgiving

The end of the fall, the cool weather. It all adds up to time to put away the outdoor furniture. What a terrific summer and fall we’ve had. The redesign of the yard has brought both families into the space and into contact with increased frequency. Guests, even those who are visiting on either side, are enjoying the yard. It has been a win/win for everyone.

Jane has said the garden is a work in progress, a way to embrace life with hope of seeing how things will turn out. I’m delighted in the rear area work. It is really great. The front area, as I wrote some days ago, still needs some work.

And we need to continue to clear out the “stuff” in our lives. There have been a lot of things that happened this past year. I think we can enter next week with a clear head about what we’re most thankful for. Still more projects to deal with, but I’m really happy with what has happened to us this year. And while the yard is just a symbol of that renewal, it is an important and visible sign of success.

November 14-- New hope arrives in an unusual form

It’s always time to play catch-up with posts. There’s been something going around. I caught it while at my nieces wedding in Oregon three weeks ago. It, and the drugs I’ve been taking to deal with it, have messed up my sleeping, made me forget appointments and been a drag to deal with.

But, it seems to be at the end of its run now. And good news, the City of Chicago installed the tree we ordered early in the summer for our parkway. The tree is a type of elm. The Dutch Elm Disease was responsible for the death and destruction of many of these trees over the years, so that a generation of children does not know the joy of playing under an elm tree in the heat of summer.

It seems hard to remember why we named towns and streets after elms. They have disappeared from our lives. We were able to order the tree through a program with the city. Unlike the standard city program, which provides the next available tree, this program, which is also free, allows you to name the type of tree to plant.

We choose an Accolade Elm. We actually received a Pioneer or Patriot Elm. (There is a difference. I’ll correct this later). Looking on-line, there doesn’t seem to be any pictures of elms that aren’t protected by law. Well imagine a tree growing to 50’ to 60’ in height. The limbs start about 8’ above the ground and grow in a vase or V shape into the sky. The leaves look like arrowheads, about 2” or so. They have serrated edges and are not exactly symmetrical. And the bark can have a texture all its own. That’s an elm.

The planting makes clear that an early garden plan I had for the parkway needs serious work. The city planted the tree off-center, so that there is a space for another large plant, if we want, to its east. Still, at this point in the year, with the winter coming in, we have new hope in our parkway. And that is good.

(As I was writing this, I looked up elms in wikipedia. Now the old tree was a sugar maple. It was a magnificent tree that stood taller than our three-story frame three-flat. I’m guessing that was about 70’. Looking at photos of maples, I see the round bottom and a pointed top. I never really noticed a pointed top on our tree; it was just a round beauty. The new tree should have a definite V shape to it.

The wood from the maple has been stored in a woodpile in the yard. I’m hoping to use it for an art project. In the meantime, it makes for great firewood. The wood has a wonderful sweet smell and burns slowly.

It is also interesting to see that the elm, like the oak, is venerable. It was the Liberty Tree, the Treaty Tree and the Washington Elm. Cool.)

October 25-- Here’s a new Chet story…

Chet G. is a friend from Colorado. He’s the guy I’ve been trying to get old girl friends interested in for years. Lucky for them, they all back away. He’s just a wild man. He’s attractive and absolutely untamable.

I won’t even begin to discuss the mess that is Chet’s house, brought about when an RTD bus slid out of control one icy morning three years ago. His house interior and exterior resembles a crazy cat lady place, only he’s a guy and only owns one cat.

While in Denver last week, I noted a new local beverage, Stranahan’s Colorado Whiskey. Chet raved about it and I went out to Applejack’s to pick a bottle up, thinking of dropping it at Chet’s and not bringing it home.

This is a three-year-old whiskey with a bit of fire in it. It’s a blue collar or working man’s whiskey. But it comes at the price of single malts in the 12 – 16 year range. I’ll keep it around for the crazy story of how Chet and I ended up inside the distillery at midnight, not for the taste.

I’ve told many of my friends how Chet and I would sometimes just head out into the mountains, camping just off of public roads, or opening a fence and throwing our sleeping bags down on someone’s private land without permission. Chet’s continued to do this stuff, heading down to Mexico and Central America to sleep on the beach, taking breakfast in the open market. It’s a Bohemian lifestyle that is romantic and possibly nuts.

Tuesday, after meeting up with the war game geeks I knew when I lived in Colorado, and feeling run-down by the cold that had hit me in the West, I met Chet at McCormick’s. He was looking for late night fun and I was interested in going to bed. About 11:30 PM we decided that my last adventure in Denver would be a tour of the Stranahan’s distillery. We didn’t know the hours of the tours, and decided that since it was just a few blocks away, we’d just drive over and look at the door.

McCormick’s is on one side of Coors Field, and Stranahan’s is about the same easy walking distance on the other side. Still, with all the new streets and work in Denver since I left, 22 years ago, I was glad to be driving. Too, it was starting to snow!

Stranahan’s is located in an area of small warehouses, just off of Broadway, about ½ mile from Coors Field and about 1 ½ mile from downtown. As we drove up we could see several people inside the warehouse. The door said we needed an appointment to take a tour, and tomorrow, being my last day the hopes, if they were strict, seemed long.

So, Chet says, let’s ask if we can get in now. Okay. But in my experience the answer is usually no. But, what the hell, nothing ventured…

The still master, Rob, said sure, we could have a tour right then and there. Rob signed my bottle of Stranahan’s and then gave us a personal tour of the facility. I’m really delighted. Not only was this a real behind the scenes tour, it happened at midnight. I cannot imagine this happening in many places.


Chet, as usual, took great pride in his ability to talk his way into a memorable situation, and he chided me for not doing it myself. (Excuse me!).

The next morning we received an official tour. There were just three of us on the official tour, which covered pretty much the same ground as the midnight tour. The pictures below are of Boyd L., a native of Belfast currently living in Southern California. He purchased a bottle of the single cask whiskey sold by the distillery. I promised to make these available to him.

Cheers Boyd.

October 25-- Mystery of Bridget


I’m still trying to catch-up on the trip West for the wedding of my niece, Cathy. I’ve been hoping to post this one for days, it is a picture of the 1’ x 1’ x 1” Indiana limestone tile I carved for Cathy in honor of her wedding to Mike B.

Limestone is a very soft rock, so much so that before it is sealed there is considerable dust apparent. It weathers and wears over time. Here in Chicago it was used as a stepper for schools and homes. Over the years the pounding of children’s feet have made grooves in the thick blocks used for steps. It is so cool to walk past a school and see the grooves made (left and right) of the feet of generations of children.

Locally I’ve been rescuing the stone from building that are about to be demolished, when I have the chance. There’s lovely carvings in some buildings, though they are sold to collectors. I usually pick-up a window sill or a door sill. The garden has several hundred pounds of stones littered about, waiting to be worked.

I learned the work from Eadhmonn Ua Cuinn at the Augusta Heritage Center and later polished (that’s a stone carving joke) the technique working with Laura Travis of AS202.

The design followed a discussion with Cathy’s mom, Winnie. Winnie had told me that Cathy had a deep Christian faith and was also proud of her Irish heritage. Thankfully, this was an area I had looked into previously. I talked to some friends who also identified themselves as Christian about an idea for representing the cross and the Trinity on the stone. They said that shouldn’t upset anyone. I think they were shocked that I proposed carving the stone myself.

I guess I was apprehensive about this as my own Christian faith is considered “out there.”

So, the initial idea was three tiles, a fish, much like you see on those car bumperstickers, a Bridget’s cross and a Triskel. The first tile was to be the Bridget’s cross.

Bridget the saint shares a history with a mythical person, a Celtic goddess. It is difficult to separate the two. I have doubt whether Bridget actually existed. But the spirit of Bridget is important. In Christian lore, she was a key evangelist in Ireland, bringing Christianity to the island. According to the lore, she prepared crosses like the one that is pictured, out of reeds, to hand to the people.

People still make them and use them in homes. Our home has several, above doorways of the home and the bedrooms.

In addition, she prepared three legged crosses that demonstrated the idea of the Trinity to the rural Irish. Patrick is better known for plucking three-leafed shamrocks to demonstrate the same idea. But this cross is a symbol of Irish Christianity that is not associated with drunkenness and green beer.

The Triskel in the center came about as I completed the legs. The initial plan was to continue to build the legs of the cross inward. However, it was clear that the space could be used for the Triskel too. That would break from tradition and make a unique interpretation of the Bridget's cross.

Triskel’s have existed long before there was a Christian faith. I would assign them to the LaTene period of Celtic art. Correct me if I’m mistaken. However, they have taken on the symbolism of the Trinity since the dawn of Celtic Christianity. So that was a nice way to finish the piece off.

The piece, which I call the Mystery of Bridget, weighes about 20 pounds and is unsigned. There isn’t an up or down on the piece, although I perceive one of the edges as being down. The photo was taken before the rock was sealed. The sealant was Butcher’s Boston Polish. The sealant gives the piece a darker color and a smell, which I hope goes away, of a just- polished shoe. It took about 20-30 hours to complete.

October 23-- Good news from Ireland

There’s lots of news and it all seems great. So, I’ll move from the political to the private here. I’m just back from about a week in the West, visiting friends in Colorado and attending the wedding of my niece Cathy Charley in Oregon.

But I’ll start with some fresh news, I called my cousin Peggy T. in Ireland this morning and the word is that the cysts in her neck and head that were so worrisome are “clear.” She may not have to go in for surgery at all.

Peggy and I have been corresponding now since I think 1971. I began saving the letters sometime in the early 1980’s. I found a stack of them recently. The computer and lower cost telephone calls has cut into our written correspondence in the last years. But it is still a remarkable thing to think that we’ve been corresponding all this time.

Her daughter Helen married in Ireland in June. That was the reason we flew there. Helen’s wedding was a great country wedding complete with the bride wearing Wellington boots for the removal of the garter.

Vincie and Peggy have owned and operated the family farm in the years since they married, coincidentally on the same weekend as the death of Elvis Presley. From a subsistence farm, it grew. Patsy, Vincie’s brother and partner combined his operations with Vincie’s some time ago. The farm, at first a dairy operation, now produces dry cattle.

The news, briefly told to me by Patsy, was great to hear. The blog, of course started when Jane had a cancer scare in August. So, the health of the family has always been at its heart.

The other interesting part of this is that we discuss health care around the table. Jane, the RN, is always concerned about increasing coverage for people. And, the loss of my employment in August put the issue of Ceili and my health care on the table for discussion. How could we afford medical coverage of Ceili and I?

I’m not sure what the system of health care is in Ireland. I thought at one time that it was a single-payer (socialized or national) system. However, I’ve been told that it is not completely single-payer. Apparently there is an element of national health in the system, but that the private insurance industry is still important.

I suspect that Peggy was not covered for this procedure by any private insurance, as she was aware of the issue of her cysts in June. It took four months to make a determination of her health. That sounds like a national system to me. However, friends there tell me they purchase levels of private insurance for coverage. We could discuss how this system worked and didn’t work going forward, but it is instructive that Peggy had to wait at least four months to be told her cyst was not threatening.

Anyway, great news from Ireland this morning.

October 1-- Rural values and gross incompetence


Jane and I have sat listening to the presidential debates and wondered about the effect of the economic crisis on our own financial futures. It was already shelled by the downsizing I suffered in August.

We are fortunate that we are both relatively healthy and do not plan to retire soon. Still, it would also be nice to have that option. Watching The Daily Show’s Jon Stewart describe President George Bush as the frat boy who is three months from graduation and suddenly realizes he has a big test, I was reminded of my own thoughts, watching him stumble through news conferences in the past two weeks: he has the deer in the headlights look of Dan Qualyle.

If it weren’t for the fact that his mismanagement of the economy and of nearly everything else, has cost us more than a year’s household income in lost value, I could feel sorry for him. No, I guess despite that, I do feel sorry for him. He is so clearly out of his league. Here is one of the few men who can discuss the experience of being President of the US, and he is just beginning to realize how deep the water is.

Now I realize that the GOP likes to portray itself as the party of rural values. But I’d like to know the answer to a simple question: The Clinton Administration left a $127 billion budget surplus in 2000. The White House projects a $482 billion budget deficit in 2009, before the effects of the $700 billion bailout. In total, in the last seven years, not including 2009, the total budget deficit, including the last year of the Clinton administration is now $1.549 trillion, before the bailout and the effects of the stimulus and previous bailouts this year of Fannie and Fredie.

That’s about $5,000 for every man, woman and child. I don’t feel as though I received an additional $5,000 of federal services in the past seven years, six years actually. And the $2,500 of annual tax benefits the average taxpayer received due to the Bush tax cuts? That’s a combined $15,000 plus present value. (And that isn’t per person, but per taxpayer. The average for a person is lower because most minors and many low-income households don’t pay taxes.) Look, I just lost more than a $15,000 in home value and portfolio value this month alone. That doesn’t include Janes’ losses. This month just washed out all those years of tax cuts: Good management of the economy trumps tax Band-Aids.

I’d like to know what happened to that money.

(About $4 billion was put on pallets and shipped to Iraq. That’s about $13 per person, about 2 ½ percent of the $1.549 trillion. That amazing story of incompetence and mismanagement is reproduced here: http://www.truthout.org/article/us-sent-billions-cash-pallets-baghdad).

September 27-- “I’m on a roll, leave me alone…”

I had to tell Jane this morning to leave me alone. This will be the fourth entry in my blogs today, three having been e-mailed to my editor earlier.

The big discussion last night in our house was about the debate. Now we may not be the typical American household. We are fighting unemployment. But, despite that we are relatively comfortable. There is practically no debt outside the mortgage. Yes, the portfolio is in a shambles; I need to see if I should sell off the bank stocks Monday. They have been relatively strong so far, but the WaMu crash has shaken my belief in the industry.

And, our use of the mortgage bubble has allowed us to fix our house and we are only about 50 percent debt to equity, despite this.

So the debate may be talking about people like Jane, and me or not.

Was I alone in wondering why John McCain kept pointing to Barack Obama’s supposed inexperience? First, I think that there is no experience that we can imagine is even close to being President of the US. Bill Clinton was inexperienced compared to George H W Bush. Yet, his presidency was among the most blessed of our generation. Bush 1 was unexciting. (That’s something you could never say about Clinton LOL)

And it can be said that every challenger is not as experienced as the sitting president. Yet, now, how many people are really glad that George W Bush was reelected in 2004?

So this thing about experience is a bogeyman, a straw man. I don’t see it as important in this election. Hell, even McCain doesn’t really seem to think it’s important. He named Governor Sarah Palin as his running mate. I know that I’m not alone in thinking that she is the most unqualified person to run for that office since Dan Quayle.

That accusation, that Obama is inexperienced, doesn’t hang right to me I’m not impressed by McCain’s greater experience in foreign affairs. It is clear to me that Obama will be able to energize the American ideal that has been so important to the country. I don’t believe McCain will care about that or be able to do anything about it.

And, I was depressed to hear McCain say that foreign aid was being misspent. It is apparently a target for his fiscal cutbacks.

We paid foreign aid to the Taliban for years. It was for the purpose of cutting the flow of heroin to the West. Was that such a bad use of foreign aid? Is it a poor use of foreign aid to purchase nets to ward off malaria? Is it a bad use of foreign aid to purchase drugs for malaria, aids and other third world diseases that are killing thousands every day? Is it a poor use of foreign aid to educate foreign students in American ideals by bringing them to America?

I’m tired of foreign aid being the horse to be flogged every four years. This country doesn’t spend enough on foreign aid. Its foreign aid may even be misdirected, as some charge. But enough flogging an under funded program.

Yacking further, is it really in this country’s best interest to challenge Russia in Georgia? Is Georgia completely innocent in this case? Personally, I do not want to see American troops fighting Russians in the Caucuses. The Ukraine is far more strategic for this country and I question whether we want to support the Ukraine against the Russians. Again, I don’t want to see Americans in the Ukrainian wheat fields fighting Russians.

Apparently McCain doesn’t agree. His running mate supports extending NATO membership to Georgia. Palin said Russia’s attack into Georgia last month was ‘unprovoked’. Asked to clarify that she’d support going to war over Georgia, she said: ‘Perhaps so.’

You know what I think will help resolve this issue? We should sit down, without preconditions, with the Russians. Diplomacy. It’s something so … 19th Century. You’d think Republicans would understand what it means.

Bottom line, I think McCain doesn’t get the foreign relations thing. And he sure seems to be in over his head on the economic thing. Obama, while not dazzling me, was sober and thoughtful. After nearly eight years of a no-thinking-allowed White House, I’d like someone who considers and pauses. This week, McCain failed. His debate showed me that his direction is wrong and his tactical plan leading to the debate, the entire brinkmanship over whether to show up or not, Oh! Boy! No more.

You might be a maverick, John McCain. But we need a horse we can depend on.

September 26-- Happy Birthday


Ceili had her 20th birthday earlier this week. She was depressed due to some friends blowing her off in a social engagement. As a result she didn't answer calls from me. Sunday, when we finally talked, I was suffering a serious migraine and Jane had made substitute plans. We were unavailable.

Jane suggested I buy a smash cake and surprise her at Harper. It was an excellent idea and one that I should have thought of. Monday, I was on a mission. I went down to Dinkel's, which is the same bakery I've always purchased her birthday cakes from, and bought a yellow cake.

They don't keep smash cakes available anymore, you need to order them. They are called smash cakes as 15 years ago we'd buy a cake for the kid and one for the adults. The child would grab the cake with one hand and stuff it in their mouths. Smash it up.

I had a card and a few small things. Because of the unemployment we didn't have much to offer Ceili this time. I put a $50 Target gift card in.

I drove out to Harper, not knowing Ceili's class schedule. I called her from a table near the cafe there and asked if she wanted to have lunch. Of course every college kid wants dad to pay for lunch. She said sure.

When she showed up, I pulled the card out and gave it to her. Then I opened the cake box. I had some plates and plastic ware and I lit a candle.

It was one of the new candles that has an electronic chip inside. It was supposed to play "Happy Birthday." Ceili blew out the candle immediately.

She looked around and said, "you can't have open flame in here."

"All they'll do is tell you to blow it out," I replied. She looked at me with those big eyes and didn't say anything.

I lit the candle again. The candle was silent.

"Go ahead and blow it out now," I said. "Happy Birthday!"

I think she liked my little romantic gesture.

August 28 B9!

B9, B9, B9. The bottom line is the cyst is benign! Instead of a total hysterectomy, Jane lost a single ovary.

Jane was released last night at about 9 PM from Evanston Hospital. She is in pain and is sleeping a lot.

Although her blood sugar was 256 last night, which is high for Jane, the surgeon felt this was within the range desired (there was some sugar in the IV they were feeding her and she also had some Jello for dinner, possibly elevating the count).

She is currently around 101.

The pain is being managed by a mix of Ibuprofen and Darvocet.

A great big hug and kiss to Kim Crivello who sat with me all day yesterday. It was sweet and I really needed a female friend with me. Also to Holly Braun-Len. Because Kim had no car, she would have had to take the PACE home last night, arriving home close to 10 PM. Holly was really nice, came over, gave everyone some shit and then drove Kim home.

So, more hugs and kisses for Holly! Thanks guys. I'm really touched by your kindness.

August 27 In the waiting room

It is Wednesday, in the early afternoon. I just received a call from a college friend, Jack Overstreet. I haven’t talked to Jack in about 25 years and there will be a lot to catch up on with him. But, it is best that I missed his call and will be able to respond later; the hospital waiting room is, despite the sunlight streaming in, not a great place to respond and I want to renew this friendship with hope and love.

Jane entered surgery at about 10:30 AM this morning. Kim Crivello is here with me this morning, it is the first time that a friend has joined me during one of Jane’s surgeries, and I really appreciate it. I had broken down crying last night, talking to my sister, Winnie Charley, about my fear that I could lose Jane.

Almost exactly 20 years ago, when my daughter was born (this is for Ceili, it was 21 September 1988) the doctor had given me a paper to sign after two days of labor. It was a simple form giving permission for a Caesarian Section.

Anna Yackle, my first wife, says I froze.

I probably did. I thought I was signing a death warrant. I have never felt as powerless or as scared… until now.

So, Kim is here to hold my hand, if necessary. But the oncologist, in a long meeting with Jane and I yesterday, assured me that it was highly unlikely that there would be any need for that sort of event again.

(That’s the reassurance I needed. Most of the meeting was for Jane’s benefit.)

So, as emotional as I am at the moment, I’m glad to have Jack wait.

I look for old friends from college from time to time and had been looking for Jack and another friend, Robert Foster, for some years. The searches usually occur around Christmas, but are also spurred by events such as turning 50 or especially September 2001. Jack is the second old college friend to reconnect this week, the other being Dan Fowler.

Bob has eluded my searches over the years, though I think he was working for a time in upstate New York near Oneida for a while.

Jack was very easy to find with the right search terms. For years I’d just been using the wrong terms. It turns out he is listed by HuffPo in one of its indexes as among the worst of the worst. (Well, I know Jack, and that’s HuffPo’s opinion. Look in my other blog to read what I think of them.)

Okay, gotta take a break here. Doctor Boutros just came through and announced that the cyst was benign and that the surgery only required the loss of a single ovary. There is a wash of emotion here and relief. I’m going to make some calls and relax.

Five phone calls later… My head is spinning around. I made a handful of telephone calls and now I’m trying to funnel this great feeling into my writing. Writing makes me feel more relaxed then talking to people.

The loss of safety, the realization, really, that we are mortal and that death awaits us really came into focus in September 2001. And since that time, spurred by events like becoming 50 or now Jane’s illness and my RIF notice, spur me to look at old friendships, to seek them out.

We are human and humanity means mortality. Only the young believe they will live forever, not having experienced loss.

We seek our foundations at times of stress, I think. The measure of a man is often found in how he deals with defeat and challenges. God knows that with Jane’s health, even her life, threatened and no job, I’ve been a textbook case of stress this month. I’ve been seeking out those old friendships more and more, seeking the reassurance that there is a more spiritual nature to our existence; that this too shall pass.

God, this sounds so loopy. I simply needed that lost foundation from friends that we still cared for each other, even if we hadn’t seen each other for years. And the renewal of friendships with these people is very welcome. We are mortal and our time is brief. I want to preserve those valuable relationships. I want them to grow again.

I guess that’s why I started this blog and why I invite people to read it. (Also, note, this is the last mass e-mails. I’ll create the ability to subscribe to the blog and otherwise allow you to keep in touch there.)

Bottom line, Jane’s cyst is benign. That is really good news after a month of crap.

The parkway August 25

The last entry today is about the front garden. Perhaps I can get Jane to take some pretty pictures of it. It is hard to do that. The front, or parkway as we call it in Chicago, has been torn up and is in the process of coming back. It will take years.

The first sign of trouble in the front was when we had the sewer contractor put a clean-out into the sewer. This tore up a small area of the front and left a small mound of clay and garbage dirt. That was in November, 2006. In late January 2007, a city main to the house broke when the temperatures plunged.

So many mains broke in the city that there was trouble trying to repair them and our water break wasn’t given the priority of other problems.

So it froze the street. Jane, we need a picture of the frozen cars here, it will help people remember that it isn’t always this hot.

About two inches of water slowly spread from the main to the houses on each side for several lots, and also into the street. Cars parked in front of our house became encased in several inches of ice and could not be moved for several weeks. And a large area became unusable by vehicles due to the ice. You could get your car in, but the ice would grow around it overnight and you couldn’t get out without a tow truck.

Anyway, that created a big hole in the parkway about ten feet from the sewer clean-out. The city came by and inspected the four story tree in front of the house and removed it. They said the sewer and water work had torn its roots and it could come down in a high wind. Now there was another hole.

The loss of the sugar maple, it was about 45 years old according to some kids who counted the rings, was heart breaking. We had loved the color of the reflected light streaming through our windows in the evening. Now, our windows were open to the street lamp and noise of the street too.

One of our dreams was to complete our attic, leaving a French window in the front that we could open to the tree. That is all gone now.

However, the surviving firewood from the tree burns slow and has a wonderful smell.

In the summer the city came by and put a dinky little hedge maple in the hole left by the tree. We never loved that tree and knew it wouldn’t last. It was felled when our water contractor upgraded the building water supply and did more work on the sewer line. Good bye hedge maple, hello three more holes.

That was last winter. We contacted the city to request another tree, this time making a specific request for an Accolade Elm. This is a relative of the elm trees that were famous in this area, until they were killed by Dutch elm disease. I thought that it would be nice to be the first house on the block to have an elm again.

While we are waiting for the elm, the gas utility company has done more work on the parkway, putting new service in one area and removing it from another. Two more holes.

Yesterday I worked on the parkway, gathering the clay, bricks, cement, rocks and junk that had been dumped there over the years by contractors, and unearthed by all these efforts. I pushed it to the center of the parkway and hoped the city or the gas utility would take it away.

The pile ended up being about three foot high and about three foot around. That’s a lot of earth coming from a patch of parkway only about 6’ by 30’. I went out and purchased about $200 of rock and about $250 of plants and started work.

The neighbors say it looks nice. It will take years to know for sure.

I think that the parkway has become a metaphor for the things that can go wrong in life and also how life can survive and grow. Of course, left to its own devices, the parkway would be a weed patch. In fact it was a weed patch for most of the summer as we waited for the utility to complete its work.

The parkway is never going to be perfect and maybe it will never be complete. It is a growing thing, complicated by the salt in the street, the passage of pedestrians and dogs over it and its use to access the building for the sewer, water and gas. But it should look beautiful in a few years. I can see where it is headed and have faith in my vision of how it will look.

Jane's film list August 25

While waiting to meet Ceili I stopped in Wal-Mart to get Jane some of the intellectual junk food she wanted. Number one on the list was the new Starship Troopers film—direct to DVD. Boy, I can’t wait to see the shower scene in this film. Do you like bugs? Do you like killing bugs? Do you have a fear of bugs killing you? Never mind, SST is pure trash, prepared by the mind of one of the great fascist sci-fi writers of the USA. Just the kind of junk Jane will need to see.

Also high on the list was Scorpion King 2; Rise of a Warrior. I believe this is another fine example of a film that detoured around the theaters and went straight to DVD. There’s a gag reel on this one!!

Jane has never seen When Harry Met Sally and it has always been a fantasy of mine to reenact the restaurant scene. Plus, I thought that after all the blood and gore of the first two films my pacifist little wife would enjoy a classic love movie.

And so, I also got her A River Runs Through It. Did you know that you could pick French as the primary language of the film? But seriously, a story about taking a dysfunctional family and putting a writer in? Who would have guessed all the fun that ensues?

Finally, Jane has been a fan of Will Ferrell’s movies for a while. Gotta love the Baby Jesus scene in Talladega, right? Am I right? God bless the little baby Jesus and NASCAR too. She hasn’t even seen Semi-Pro yet and she’s a sports fan for goodness sake.

I’m looking at the top of the dresser, where all the new DVDs are kept, and I see she received Sicko from me last time she was in the hospital. That one, though she is a liberal socialist, is still unopened. For shame.

She also hasn’t opened Big, Bad Wolf. I guess that’s a sign that I don’t always know her taste in film. I’m not sure what it’s all about, but I’m sure it is a lot of fun when you’re hallucinating on hospital pain killers.

Gosh, she didn’t open Empire of the Sun, Hoosiers, the Replacements, Bottom of the Ninth, Parallel Lines or Prey either. Prey, a film I’m sure I purchased because it is not rated and the cover of the DVD shows Bridget Moynahan in a tight top, her nipples showing through… Why wouldn’t she open that one?

But she did like what I purchased for her today. She almost directed me to get these films for her. As my cousin Helen says, sometimes you have to tell people what you want to get it.

Back to HR August 25

It was back to the offices of the HR department of the Chicago Public Schools this morning, at the urging of Jane. It is important to have the benefits lost at the Tribune Co. replaced by CPS before 30 days have expired since the RIF, or about September 8.

I met with Gina again and explained that apparently Jane had talked to a supervisor. I wasn’t enrolling due to a new hire but due to a life changing event: the loss of my benefits. The supervisor had directed Jane to send me with the documents necessary to enroll. Gina took copies of my daughter’s birth certificate, our marriage license and certificate and the court order providing that I was to provide Ceili with benefits when that was possible.

The copy of the class schedule for Ceili was not with me and it didn’t matter as CPS wanted a letter from the college registrar’s office that Ceili was full-time. Fortunately I had the car with me and I drove out to Harper College to meet with Ceili to order this document.

The Harper College registrar said these letters were taking about two weeks to complete. I showed them the demand from the CPS HR office for a copy within a week. They were nice enough to say they’d attempt to provide it on Tuesday. I left Ceili with a copy of the CPS request and instructions to complete this Tuesday. Wednesday we’ll be in the hospital and maybe Thursday too. It isn’t likely to get done before Friday if someone, probably Ceili, doesn’t get it in gear.

Good kid that she is, she agreed. So, maybe we’ll finally be covered by health insurance again.

22 August 2008 A Day in Line

I’m still getting into the swing of these more personal blogs. I faced a bit of a block about what to write about, when it occurred that I’d experienced a number of the stupid things that just about every job seeker has to endure: the job counselor, the human relations office from hell and of course the unemployment office.

And, of course, I had each of these experiences in a single day.

So, let’s go into the day of hell…

I’m disappointed and angry that the Tribune Co. provided virtually no severance package. If I sign off on a waiver of all their possible wrongs, then they’ll throw me a bone, consisting of outplacement services and also about five weeks of regular pay towards my retirement account.

That seems like a high price to pay, so I arranged to return to a placement service I’d used in the past, the Jewish Vocational Service (JVS). Years ago I’d worked with Hunt Unger at JVS and before that with Bill Frank, a Denver counselor. Both of these counselors had worked using the “What Color is Your Parachute” technique of attempting to recognize your interests, and then locating similar activities in the workplace.

WCIYP demands a lot of time and effort. Frank once said that I was the only person he knew to complete the entire exercise.

While I was able to identify the field I wanted to work in, business journalism, I was never able to successfully transition to the career. So, I plug along, doing other things and writing in my other blog about the financial end of journalism and media.

Unger was a Holocaust survivor and had a lot of miles on him when I first met him at the JVS years ago. No one there seems to know who he is anymore. But then again, the woman I’m currently dealing with was probably still watching Sesame Street when I first met Unger.

Now that’s a mean thing to say about Jennifer Dolan, the new career counselor. I don’t mean to write it as a comment on anything other than her age. She’ll be the third or fourth career counselor I’ve worked with in my life. I hope she is the last counselor. It will be a great day when I’m finally transitioned into a new job or career.

Now at the age of 51, I probably should be worried about age bias. I’m fortunate in that I do look very young for my age. It may come to pass that I’ll need her advice on working against the bias thing. Plus, of course, there is Jane’s health issue, which if any employer finds out about, then I’ll be moved down the list of candidates.

Combine all this poor fortune with the loss of benefits at Tribune and you can see a potential storm on the horizon.

What I need at this point in my life is a career coach, a person who encourages me to get my work done and continue to progress towards my goals. That may mean a change in careers, or it may mean continuing down the path I’m on. There is enough time and energy to explore both changing careers and the current career. And, I’m confident in my ability to do everything but write those introductory letters. Back to that in a moment.

What you lose as you transition out of a job is the structure of a day. I had developed habits or reviewing and returning e-mails, phone calls and making appointments at certain times of the day. I reviewed my corporate credit card on Monday each week. Prepared the cartage payments on a specific day, the expense report on a specific day…

All that is lost. So, Dolan’s job will be to impersonally ask what the hell I’m up to. If the goal is to move to another job, then there are things that need to be done. I need to contact everyone I can in my past and begin saying, “Hey, I need to find another job. Here is what I did previously…”

That’s where the blog comes in.

About the JVS; the JVS is open to anyone. It is a United Way Agency. There’s always a lot of security in the office. You are separated from everyone but your counselor. They also, in this office, offer services to immigrants. Perhaps that’s why they have such tight security. But at a time when you need human interaction, they are holding you back, keeping you at arms length. It is something I would reconsider, if I were them.

“Welcome to America… now keep back!”

Now, as to the letters, I’ve tried to follow the same sort of introduction I used in the takeovers of the interviews, so far without success. Basically, attempting to start a small story about something, then lead into why that well-known story is applicable to the hiring situation and why we should take the next step, a meeting (that I’ll take over, if I can).

For example here might be the basis for one of my current letters:

“Charles Howard was a key distributor of Buicks in the Western States prior to World War II. However, that isn’t what he was best known for. He spotted talent in a quiet horse wrangler named Tom Smith and hired him to watch his horses. Smith had been selling mustangs to the British Army for the Boer War, then when the British no longer needed horses, he had worked a Western ranch, keeping ponies in shape for the cowhands.

“Smith had a knack for taking broken down old ponies and keeping them going on the ranch. It was his way with animals, they said, that the animals trusted him and loved him.

“Smith saw a future in a horse that was losing some claiming races on the second-tier of the racing circuit. A knobby-kneed horse, it was unable to win races, it was lazy and angry. Smith believed the horse, in the right hands, would challenge one of the great horses of the century, War Admiral.

“He found those hands in a pugilistic young jockey named Red Pollard, who wandered into the stables, drunk and dirty one afternoon. Pollard was winning just six percent of his races and was believed to be finished. But, sometimes great talent does just walk in at just the right moment, looking all-wrong.

“The horse was Seabiscuit.

“Now, I’ve just had a great quarter for my former employer. I’m not Red Pollard in temperament or appearance, nor am I the angry and lazy Seabiscuit. I’m more like Tom Smith, transitioning from a broken industry, newspapers, into something new. I hope you see what I’m driving at. Great teams are sometimes cobbled together and recognized by great managers…”

Then, I follow-up with some of my recent accomplishments, and ask for a meeting. I think it might work with the right person. Maybe, it will only work with someone I can work with.

Frank, who I’d worked with earlier in my life, wrote a book for Ten Speed Press on great interview letters. I guess he wouldn’t approve of the way I wrote this fictional letter, but I won’t know unless he responds to a “Hey you!” e-mail.

From the JVS I moved on to the Chicago Public Schools Human Relations Office on North Elizabeth Street. My mother had been the receptionist in the old Teacher Personnel Office at 120 N LaSalle St for more than ten years, retiring there in the mid- 1970’s. I had even worked there as my first job in high school.

I’d discovered the private personnel files of the teachers, and had diligently searched through the records reading the contents of teachers who I knew in high school. Not only was I a bad clerk (they liked my work ethic and offered regular employment, not knowing of my spying on the teachers.), I was a sneak too!

So, I greeted the woman at the desk with this information. Gina replied “uh-huh. Are you applying for a teaching job?”

If I ever had any intention of working with CPS, it was quickly evaporating under Gina’s cold care. I explained that I was looking to join my wife’s benefits package as mine had been terminated with my employment at the Tribune.

Now the fact is that I cannot recall ever getting a job through a job application. Ever. So I’m not impressed by the power of clerks in HR offices. The only thing they can attempt to say is “NO!” But even this is suspect as most jobs are filled through reference and networking, not a blind application.

Plus, as I’d worked there, I knew that this was the busy season for these poor clerks. What you need to remember in these situations is that the clerk is probably not where they want to be and that it isn’t about you in any case. Gina gave me the information I needed to apply for Jane’s benefits and I left.

Did she ever have any interest in me as a human needing help getting through the bureaucracy? I don’t think so.

On to the unemployment office…

They are unreal places probably designed to discourage people from applying for unemployment. I had used the on-line system to apply and be certified. But I am still trying to understand some things about the system, so it was another part of the experience.

I’ve always hated these offices. But, with specific questions about the EFT deposit to my account, my daughter and the effect of part time employment during the unemployment period, I needed some answers. Those three questions only took a moment for the clerk to answer, but I had to wait in line for an hour to get to see the clerk.

Inevitably there is always a baby crying its eyes out in these places. I think children have a gut feel that there is something wrong with the unemployment office. It is not really a place to go find work. It is a place to get money to survive while not being employed.

The poor overworked clerks are just trying to get the money for you and move on to the next poor soul.

In essence, I think that while there are some places in the city blessed by a spirit of place that is positive and wonderful, there are also places like the unemployment office and the HR department that are cursed.
I should blog about one of the most sacred places I’ve ever seen in the city, but that will wait for another day.

13 August 2008 My Good-bye

We are creatures of habit. For about 20 years, my habits have involved getting up early to assure delivery of the newspaper of the day: Wall Street Journals, Crain’s Chicago Business, Chicago Tribunes, Chicago Sun-Times, Daily Defenders, Daily Heralds and then the Chicago Tribunes again. From time to time, I may follow that path again, particularly in these early days as I struggle to gain a firm financial footing. But I can’t see myself retiring anymore in this field.

It is time to go.

Unfortunately, the company picked the moment to show me the door, before I had developed my escape plan fully. So, I have an unknown future.

Editorial will not be writing, nor will the Ink-stained Wretch, about how talent walked out the door Friday. And that is okay. Like the carrier on the street or the union driver, I’ve silently done my part, delivering news to people’s doorsteps. It is a simple act. It is an act that is critical to the final experience of many of subscribers. It is uncelebrated.

Consider, if you will, the consumer caring for their dying father. The 20 minutes spent reading the newspaper may be the only moment of peace for that individual. Or the farmer, two miles from the Illinois border and due south of the Kankakee River, our service is a link to a wider world.

How could you not love a business that allowed me to hear the roar of lions in the pre-dawn near the zoo or drive past a pheasant, waking to the cracking freeze of day? We spent summers climbing on the roof of my friend Roger’s Jeep, picking apples in Glenview, and winters throwing Wall Street Journals between gang bangers in Englewood. The stars shown bright, the snow was sometimes deep and I grew to love a warm bed after a winter route.

I loved talking to Casey on the night shift of the city desk. I loved the fact that security issued me a badge with a picture of Jim Belushi. I was horrified by seeing a decapitation late one night, fascinated by watching a foot chase near the United Center, tickled to tease a particular con-artist I nick-named the Reverend. (He is still out there, 20 years later, hustling).

I came into this business wounded from a poor career choice, a bad economy, a new-born baby to feed and a relationship headed for divorce court. I’m leaving after one of the best quarters ever—saving the company $1.3 million in hauling fees. The economy is still a mess, the baby is in college and I’m about to celebrate 10 years with my lover Jane.

I’m 51, feel and look 42 and have more respect for what can be done and what needs to be done. I’m ready. Good luck to you all.

A new blog and a new explanation for why.

Coal Miner's Daughter had started as a project between my daughter and me to document my family and would involve them. However, the key person in that blog, my daughter, had her own things to do and so the blog never caught on. We just never posted to it.

However it has been a favorite name of mine for a blog. So, my wife and I decided this week to resuscitate it and use it to document and discuss, with each other and with our family and friends, the dual challenge we currently face.

Jane is undergoing surgery to investigate whether she has cancer of the ovaries. She and I were fortunate to have found it early. But this is a disease that has me worried, particularly because Jane, who is a bit of a hypochondriac, seems to be so calm about this thing.

On the other hand… I’m pretty god damn upset by it and usually these things don’t phase me.

The second challenge is that I was among the 60 people let go by the Chicago Tribune Co. on Friday. In the scheme of things, I’ll find other work. In the scheme of things I’m not as worried about this as I perhaps should be.

So, that’s a lot on our plates. The plan didn’t call for this. Even two weeks ago, we didn’t expect all of this. Life comes at you fast.

Coal Miner’s Daughter does not refer to my daughter. It actually refers to my mother, Catherine. She is the daughter of a coal miner. It also winks at the movie by that name. So with that acknowledgement, let’s go…