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…