Not so bad to outlive your contemporaries; Mal Bellairs did. At his passing July 12, he was 90-years-old. Mal had been out of radio for at least 15 years, living a fairly quiet retirement with his wife, Maria in their Woodstock ranch home. Outlive your contemporaries, and who's left to remember what was accomplished in a lifetime of success. No question family members will have a whole lot of Mal to hold onto for the rest of their lives in pictures and audio of his radio shows, but of the radio listeners in Chicagoland? Remember "Hi neighbors, this is Mal Bellairs for White Fence Farm?" How about his Around the World Christmas, heard every year by thousands of people? His fans claimed Christmas wasn’t Christmas without Mal playing the music of Christmas and telling the historical roots of the music.
Fortunate for me, Mal was my mentor…….His teaching was not in a lesson plan but in the actual day to day shows he hosted. This radio giant showed an ability to analyze events around the world and in our backyard. His voice had power and authority and when he talked, we listened, his words settling into our souls as though his voice had some super soothing elements to it that would put you at peace with the world.
Mal and his family, the Bellairs, gave me an opportunity in McHenry County to broadcast news in the late 1970s and through the 80s. His style was not broadcasting, but communicating information, and so I grew into a communicator. Everything before did not live up to his standard. He taught by example to never editorialize the news. I think he was proud I carried through on his template of this business. "Always be reachable to the people who are listening to what you are saying as they've invested their time in what you do say and how you say it," Mal would stress.
He came to my wedding, he and his wife, and just about everybody at the wedding wanted to sit next to Mal, just to sit and listen in person. Many people did get to hear him along the way, at church and at luncheons and dinners at service organizations. He'd often be asked to talk and when Mal talked, there really wasn’t a time limit set. No one snuck a peak at their watch or even thought they’d have to be somewhere else. For this chance to hear Mal was like nothing else. In the months before his passing, Mal entered into the National Radio Hall of Fame as a regional pioneer broadcaster. His son, Rick Bellairs worked hard to round up those Mal worked with at some points of his announcing career at WBBM Radio and radio ownership at WIVS-AM. Their glowing letters and Mal’s own tapes proved he was exceptional and had been a true pioneer.
Those WBBM years, 1955 to 1969 were years when the Chicago powerhouse WBBM stood for We Broadcast Bellairs M ainly….., a joke some would tell of the call letters, but Mal had a following from his show before WBBM went all news. He did street interviews and brought in guests and played music and did everything it seemed. This was a gentleman that never talked badly about any of his competition and always tried to find the good in people.
At the very top of his career as WBBM went all news, Mal could have stayed in Chicago, but he chose to gamble and moved to McHenry County and bought a station and eventually started a station that would come under the Bellairs’ wing. From those days, I came along as News Director for the Bellairs stations, WIVS and WXRD. Although I had already worked two and a half years in radio, this was really my start in community radio because my mentor stressed the need to earn the trust of the community.
A few months ago, I visited Mal at his home.....didn't know this would be the last time for such a visit. He was a broadcast pioneer and I wanted to hear in his words his story since he would go with his son, Rick to Peoria and accept the prestigious Pioneer award. I also wanted to personally thank him for what he allowed me to do and tell him about my family and how my kids have grown, kind of catchup for too long of a period away. I found Mal in a wheelchair and that was the first surprise, though I knew his two hip operations had not helped him. He was such a tall man, but his height was not imposing, it was kind of protective. Now he was in a wheelchair, but the voice.....oh the voice was my second suprise, no loss of power or expression at all, his was such that he had full command of the Bellairs sound that those who knew Mal and had heard him, understand without explanation the gift he had and how he used it for our enjoyment. I wanted to close my eyes for a moment right there in his dining room where we had decided to sit and talk. Hearing his voice alone, I figured, could whisk me back to Virginia Avenue in Crystal Lake at WIVS-AM around the bend near the McDonald’s that had a train car once. That's where I first met Mal in 1979 in his full glory, sitting around a long table with chairs on a rug. H'd use that table to do his interviews. But I couldn't spend time on what was then....had to focus on the present and even with my eyes open, his voice had a youthful energy because that's how he was, always.......
Among his greatest interviews, Mal often referred to his one on ones with Clark Gable and David Niven as audio highlights of a long career. He'd capture our attention on how he got a very nervous Clark Gable to relax by letting Gable tell stories of his fishing experiences. Mal's ability to put his guests at ease and the loyalty of his listeners were legend. .I truly believe the style and grace of Mal Bellairs, a gentleman broadcaster can never be duplicated, but his way is the way to emulate. I will miss Mal as I miss Johnny Carson….as I miss Walter Cronkite….as I miss Wally Phillips.
By Stew Cohen
July 12, 2010
Embarrassing moments are momentary blips for learning behavior preventing future red-face events. I’m afraid I have enough “blips” in my life to hook up to an EKG. But I’ve also learned what NOT TO DO.
I don’t walk around in too tight pants where I have a degree of certainty the crotch will tear and my underwear will show through.
I don’t eat spaghetti in a cup while I’m driving my car….and in the same manner, I don’t wear a white sweater at an Italian restaurant.
I don’t clean my prescription glasses with the same soft tissues I’d use to clear my nose,
SOME OF THE THINGS I’VE LEARNED NOT TO DO are based on those embarrassing moments. But the blips keep coming.
You should know it’s not so wise to sleep in your doctor’s office, but the wait is usually so long, it’s likely the urge will kick in and you’ll doze off if you are one of those people that can fall asleep anywhere. I was blessed with the ability to fall asleep ANYWHERE. My two sons will vouch for me on this. They’ve witnessed me falling asleep not only at the doctor’s office, but at the barbershop too. However, one has a price to pay for this indiscriminate sleeping, and I have paid in spades with my embarrassing moments. My son, Brant, was at the doctor’s office for a visit and I of course brought him because he’s still too young to drive. I thought that while he was in for a shot, I’d just slink down in my chair, my head touching the wall for support and then I’d close my eyes. I figured the office only had two other people in the waiting room, a mom and son, so they’d think nothing of my slumber. Well, I must have fallen asleep faster than my record of falling asleep in a public place. Usually Brant is around to elbow me in the side and that typically keeps me from completely falling asleep. Kind of a torture I think, but he’s justified in keeping me awake. But Brant was in another room when he heard me scream. I woke myself up screaming the name “Brenden.” That’s my other son, he’s older and usually more embarrassed by dad’s actions. But now I’m awake, and the mom and son are looking directly at me…..Brant is looking at me….the secretary and the accountant are looking at me, well they had to strain a bit to look over a wall to look at me, but I could see this demanded a bit of explanation. This was that momentary “blip” in my life that could lead to me learning what NOT TO DO in the future.
I told the woman and her son I don’t get enough sleep at night and the woman seemed to understand, but offered motherly advice…”Get more sleep.” I wondered whether I’d have to get my insurance card to pay for this advice? Brant asked what happened since he had only left for a moment, torn that he was to leave me at all in the nearly prone position that I had reached on a waiting room chair.
“I screamed Brenden’s name”, I recalled, “because he was supposed to help me in my dream.” I had hoped this rehash would teach Brant a life lesson, though I wasn’t exactly sure on the quality of the lesson, other than it would again point out what NOT TO DO. “I was in the kitchen and found this huge bug like bug, I think yellow like a yellow crayon, but looked like a large crab, and it was crawling out of the sink and I turned on the water and tried to flush it down the sink, but it kept fighting, antennae moving, crab like claws snapping, and worked its way to the top of the sink……and was about to fall over onto the kitchen floor….and I……” Well the rest you already know, but I don’t think Brenden was planning on helping me, but then I woke myself up….and felt my leg and there was a pulsing vibration type of thing and since I was kind of in a twilight, I realized my cell phone was vibrating, and it was Brenden on the line asking for a ride home from school. What NOT TO DO….I’ll try not to stretch out in a doctor’s chair in the future, but I make no promises.
Just a few days ago my program director did his doctoring thing on my head. See I was trying to do something good in the restroom. Apparently we have a few people that can’t score baskets in the waste basket, so the paper towels end up on the rim or on the floor next to the basket and I thought I’d just pick up the wet towels on the floor and deposit them into the waste basket…and so I bent over and got most of the towels off the floor, but as I lifted, the towel dispenser came in direct contact with my fast moving head and I created what I’d like to refer to as a new tattoo on the top of my head rather than a scar which is too negative to think about right now. So I had this tattoo right there on my very large bald spot and the blood was getting these hand towels red enough to throw away after only a few minutes of sopping. My program director took me to the supply cabinet and proceeded to pull out a bandaid that resembled a butterfly…and I stuck it on my head. What NOT TO DO, I learned not to pick up paper towels that don’t make the waste basket.
Encouraging signs abound though. I have had a drought in walking into a bathroom where someone forgot to lock the door……or in one case was completely naked and wasn’t a family member. But I should have known embarrassing moments would dog my life. In grade school, I first tore my crotch area, and we were playing a game called Seven Up where we had to have seven pupils standing up in the front near the chalkboard and I was one of the seven chosen by the teacher to start the game….so I carried with me my music book, hiding the exposed area. No one saw anything, though I could guess a few thought I either really liked music class or I had this gigantic hole in my crotch because the seem tore.
Embarrassing Moments Number Five Thousand I really think is the number necessary to know you’ve lived a full life and that if you don’t put yourself out there occasionally, well then you haven’t really lived. …but yes, I could do without my crotch tearing in the future.
SEXIEST SANDAL
SHE WORE BOOTS WITH HER SKIRT AND DANCED DOWN A SHORT RUNWAY ON A STAGE INSIDE THE HOLIDAY INN IN CRYSTAL LAKE. MORE THAN 350 PEOPLE WATCHED AS SHE MADE HER WAY TO THE EDGE OF THE STAGE WHERE THREE MALE JUDGES AWARDED HER POINTS FOR THE QUALITY OF HER BOOTS AND STAGE PRESENTATION. I KNOW THIS BECAUSE I WAS THE EMCEE OF THE FIRST "TAKE A WALK IN HER SHOES BALL" TO RAISE SCHOLARSHIP MONEY FOR "WOMEN IN TRANSITION." I HELD A MICROPHONE IN MY HAND COMMENTING ON THE SHOE CATEGORIES THAT INCLUDED BEST BOOTS, PINNACLE PUMP AND SEXIEST SANDAL...AND I'D TRY SAYING SOMETHING FUNNY OR GIVE DJ BOB AN OPENING FOR HIM TO SAY SOMETHING FUNNY AS HE MAINLY DROVE THE CONTEST TO ITS CONCLUSION. THE SHOE BALL WAS THE PERFECT FIT. WOMEN HAD STORIES TO TELL ABOUT THEIR SHOES AND MANY OF THE WOMEN I KNOW HAVE A CLOSET FULL OF SHOES. SOME OF THE SHOES WOULD TELL OF STRUGGLES THEY FACE DAILY...AND IT'S THESE STRUGGLES THAT "TAKE A WALK IN HER SHOES BALL" HOPED TO EASE IF POSSIBLE THROUGH SCHOLARSHIPS TO MCHENRY COUNTY COLLEGE. THE MONEY GENERATED WOULD SOLVE SOME OF THE BARRIERS TO AN EDUCATION LIKE CHILD CARE, TRANSPORTATION, AND EDUCATION COSTS. THE SCHOLARSHIPS WILL HELP WOMEN TAKE COURSES TOWARD LANDING A JOB THAT COULD SUSTAIN THEM. IN MY PREPARATION FOR WATCHING WOMEN PARADING IN FANCY SHOES AND BOOTS, I INTERVIEWED JANE FARMER OF TURNING POINT AND NANCY HIATT OF HOME OF THE SPARROW. BOTH WOMEN WERE EXCITED IN THEIR CONVERSATIONS ABOUT THE SCHOLARSHIPS AND TALKED TO WOMEN IN THEIR PROGRAMS, SUGGESTING THEY APPLY FOR THE SCHOLARSHIPS...FOR AN EDUCATION IS REALLY THE KEY TO "WOMEN IN TRANSITION" AND WHAT BETTER WAY THAN A WOMAN RECEIVING ENOUGH MONEY TO MAKE IT POSSIBLE TO ACCOMPLISH HER DREAM. I WON'T KNOW WHAT IT'S LIKE TO WALK IN HER SHOES, BUT I CAN TELL FROM THE EXCITEMENT OF THE NIGHT AND THE WOMEN THAT DANCED WITH THEIR FLASHY SHOES ON, THIS WAS THE BEGINNING OF A WONDERFUL SCHOLARSHIP FUNDRAISING EFFORT THAT'LL LET WOMEN SHOW OFF SHOES THEY MIGHT ONLY WEAR FOR FUN, SUCH AS THE ST. PATRICK'S BRILLIANTLY GREEN SHOE OR THE LIGHT UP SHOE.....IN THE END.......IT TAKES A REALLY BIG SOLE FOR A SHOW LIKE THIS......AND A CREATIVE SOUL SEEING THE END RESULT, WOMEN WALKING WITH DIGNITY AND INDEPENDENCE.
Ketchup on the Run
“Don’t you think you boys picked up enough ketchup packets?” I didn’t count how many packets they stuffed into the bag at the drive through counter, but I knew my sons could probably fill an empty 12 ounce ketchup bottle at home because they always ask for extra packets at the drive through. This time only one of my two boys was in the car urging me to stop at the drive through and pick up a cheeseburger, fries and a milkshake for his dinner. I knew I’d have the upper hand here because I would not have two boys ganging up on me, telling me we can use the ketchup packets for extras when mom’s Heinz ketchup bottle runs out. They see this as a squirrel would see hiding nuts for the winter, a great supply on hand for the taking. But I only see this as the ‘here and now’, not like I’d want to store ketchup packets and anyway “we don’t have room in the refrigerator.” Brant would still shoot back even without his brother in the car, and he’d point out we do have room next to the double and triple A batteries. “Oh, how right he is, ten, 20 or 30 packets of ketchup in a compartment on the refrigerator door won’t really take up room for more important things in the refrigerator like bottles of Yoo-hoo chocolate or hot dog buns.
“You can’t possibly put all that ketchup on your burger,” I told Brant sitting in the passenger seat leaning over me to make sure they had our order right. He knows I’m not a ketchup guy, nor a fast food junkie for that matter. But he also knows I don’t like to take stuff like ketchup, mustard, or mayonnaise packets or too many napkins, but I do admit to having a soft spot for blue straws, except with the straws, I don’t ask for a dozen, I just wash the straw that came with the large raspberry milk shake.
My sons are ketchup loving kids that must smear ketchup on everything, so typically we run out of ketchup early in the week because the lone Heinz ketchup bottle my wife buys at the store on the weekends just doesn’t cut it. We’re not an extra bottle household and she refuses to give in to their demands. So the packets are the boys’ natural recourse. Problem with this logic is in the actual mechanics of ripping open these ketchup packets and pushing the thick sauce onto a bun or onto fries they’re bringing home with their cheeseburger. Here’s where dad is their first choice. “Dad, can you open those?” Brant and Brenden are the same; they just can’t wait until we get home and spread all the food out onto the table. I’ve not even put the car in drive to leave the drive through which is already showing a line of cars and impatient drivers waiting for their Ketchup on the Run. Brant would push five or six of the small packets at me and expect me to open them. Unfortunately I don’t have a lot of faith in these packets. My wife also doesn’t take kindly to finding my shirts and pants stained with dry ketchup. And I’m bordering on impulsive eating, especially fries, so I’ll dig into the bag for a few fries and the moment I do, not only do I get into a wrestling match with the bag my son is trying to push away from me, but my hands become immediately greasy and I don’t have anything to wipe away the grease to open the six packets Brant spread out on my lap. I used to try to appease him, grabbing a packet and attempting to rip. I mean my fingers would turn white on the tips I put so much pressure on a packet, but nothing would happen other than the packet would have enough grease to wipe on the axle where my tires spin. I’d repeat this, as my son watched, and provided his expertise. Why is he telling me how to open the ketchup packet, why can’t he just do it himself? The answer was never satisfying, just left me feeling this must be the generation of condiment challenged kids that can program a computer, fill an I-POD with music and text like crazy on their cell phones. But open a ketchup packet, change a roll of toilet paper, put their clothes away, wash a few dishes, throw out the garbage, NO those were beyond the scope of today’s kids. “Dad, you are so much better at tearing open a ketchup packet.” Better isn’t a word I’d use, I’d say they just don’t want to do anything that doesn’t have some ounce of fun in it. If opening a packet offered a prize inside, maybe I’d find them taking an interest.
We may never see these small ketchup packets disappear from fast food restaurants because we’re meant to be faced with one of the greatest challenges in life, opening the ketchup packet. I mean we as parents work so hard to make our kids independent, but now I can honestly report to you of a change in direction by Heinz, the company behind the torturous packets that date back to the 1960’s. The style hasn’t changed in 40 years, until now, that is. I’m not sure if hundreds of Face book anti-ketchup packet
groups had something to do with Heinz changing its packet design, but change they did and now the new packet is in test markets. Should Heinz find in test markets the packet does in fact reduce the stress on our lives, and then you may find yourself in the future holding the Heinz Dip & Squeeze dual-function package. This packet has a lid and you just peel it back like you’d peel back the silver sticky paper on deodorant. Take the packet and dip into your fries or for the cheeseburger’s bun, just tear off the tip of the packet and squeeze it…and the ketchup oozes out, a very tasty and practical way of satisfying your ketchup needs. Also for the health conscious and your doctor wondering why your sodium level has increased so much, the new test market packages have much less sodium.
We’re not solving the worlds’ problems here, but I promise you the brilliant minds wrestling with the impossible to tear greasy ketchup packets could run for Congress and probably win, for they are improving our health, solving a long standing problem, and not costing you much more than you already pay for food.
FIRST CAR RULES
Please step forward if you bought your teen’s first car. I’m not rewarding your generosity; I’m actually imagining the punishment I’d like to inflict on you for buying your kid’s first vehicle. Maybe you should be in a police lineup and stand next to your kid. I mean you have indirectly inflicted punishment on me. My “in the market for a car” son won’t stop reminding me all of his friends have had their parents buy their first car and they are driving to high school, parking in the school parking lot with their late model Mustang, BMW, or Mercedes. I can’t compete with these parents, nor would I try anyway. My “in the market for a car” son knows the rules my wife and I have set for him. He must buy his own car, pay for the insurance, gasoline, and car repairs. That’s principally why he does not have a car today. He hasn’t saved enough money for something that resembles a car; inside and out. Despite our ‘set in stone’ stance on First Car Rules, he believes high school juniors are not meant to take the bus, they are meant to drive to school. No junior should wait on a street corner for the school bus is something I’ve heard him argue repeatedly. Yet I don’t give in, can’t really, his argument just doesn’t fit in with my bank account or work ethic. You work for what you get and appreciate the value. I can’t speak for all kids with parents buying their cars, but I feel there’s justification in working for what you get. Yes, he is working as he’s one of the few that found a job as a teenager and is saving most of his earnings. But recently his incessant call for a car drove me to a place in my town where fairly inexpensive used cars sit in a lot awaiting just such a parent and car-starved kid. Once again he reminded me of his friends with cars free and clear. I wasn’t budging, nor was my wife whom he asked the same question independently. He wanted us to pitch in…..half for the car….half for insurance. If one of us moved off our position, he’d be in…..and a Mustang would be parked in my driveway, but my wife is no fool and she’s not going to be played by any one. So I won’t see a monthly payment package, nor car repair bills or my son with his hand out asking for 20 dollars here, 30 dollars there for gasoline. With only 3-thousand dollars in the bank to play around with, he wasn’t looking for a high performance vehicle. Yet he found a vehicle with a really good black shine. The guy with the used cars runs a car painting business and recently painted this car in the lot off the street where he works. So it looked good as my son went by several times a week, borrowing my car on his trip to work. On further inspection, up close this time, my son noticed the headlights on the shiny car didn’t sit flush with the body….so he was thinking this vehicle was likely in an accident. The owner did mention this was a stolen vehicle, but he owns the license outright. We agreed to come back and take the vehicle for a test drive, maybe even visit our mechanic for his opinion.
Unfortunately on the day we were to return and drive the car to my trusty mechanic, my son wasn’t available to join in. Instead my wife and I took the vehicle for a test drive and we found something surprising. After the car warmed up, maybe 20 minutes into the drive, it began shaking on the dash, then in the steering column, then under the hood….and we heard a squeak in the back, likely an axle. Between the rattling and the squeaking, I pretty much knew what to tell and leave out with the owner. I suppose I could have told him the unbridled truth, the vehicle’s best use would be in a demolition derby, but I thought he’d not let us into his lot again, which would not sit well with my son. I did tell him the mechanic said the fluids looked good. But I said in the most sincere voice I could muster, I just could not let my son drive a car with 98-thousand miles on the odometer.
This ritual of test driving and shades of honesty have been conveniently avoided by some parents because they buy their kids first car and it’s usually a pretty expensive model and they won’t have to visit the mechanic, nor test drive the car themselves. Now I need to convince my son to continue saving his money until the end of his senior year and then he’ll have enough money saved to buy a car that would not logically end up in a demolition derby, but rather be driven on Route 14 or on the tollway, demolition derbies in their own right.
CALLING IT POLITICS
“Hi, this is Kirk Dillard……..Jim Ryan……Mark Kirk……” If you have a telephone at home, chances are you received a recorded campaign message from at least one of them, maybe all three. The candidates for governor and senator had their staff send messages not just once, but over and over to voters in Illinois .
In the week before the Illinois primary election, my home answering machine messages doubled and tripled, mostly with calls from the candidates asking for my vote. Well they didn’t exactly say, “Stew, could you please vote for me.” They touted their strength and that they would not raise my taxes. These candidates even got people that were not running for office to urge me to vote for their candidate. Truth is I could not keep up with the flood of political messages. So many calls with the same message, I pretty much memorized the approach on the first call. “Hi I’m Kirk Dillard and I’m running for Governor and I could use your vote February 2nd. Make sure you go and vote and don’t worry, I won’t raise your taxes.”
My reaction to the first avalanche of calls was mild irritation. I figured they’d stop and switch their campaigns to radio, television and newspapers, however the “free” advertising did not stop, actually increased in frequency as we neared primary day. Dillard, Ryan, Kirk and others had me stopping everything I was doing evening after evening, and checking my caller ID. The call could have been from my wife, mother, children, or work. It wasn’t, but I had to check because they may have had some kind of minor emergency and I’d need to react….but the dinner time calls did not just take time away, it disturbed my preparing dinner, eating dinner, putting away leftovers, cleaning the dinner dishes, thawing tomorrow’s dinner. These were merely dinner calls, there were the after dinner calls where I was watching prime time tv; shows like Castle or Chuck, American Idol, Grey’s Anatomy or Numbers. The candidates showed no mercy, even called while I brushed my teeth, put out my work clothes for the next day and turned off the light. I’m not asking for sympathy. These calls were common among voters. What were the candidates to gain? I grew tired of constantly having to check calls and began feeling that I didn’t like these candidates as much as I had initially. I could well imagine late President Ronald Reagan plugging for votes on the phone. He’d probably relay some home spun story and make you laugh, while former President Bill Clinton might tell of running into an Iowa farmer on the campaign trail. Even disgraced former Governor Rod Blagojevich might have concluded his recorded message singing an Elvis song and offering advice on how he’s been able to keep his hair.
The candidates have stopped their incessant phone calls because the primary election has ended and we’re months away from the General Election. They want to give us some time to clear our phone messages so they can start where they left off. I think I’ll create my own message to answer their message. I’ll say “this is a voter and if you say your name or the person you support, I will be sure not to vote for you, but if you promise not to raise my taxes I might change my mind.”
NOT A WASTED LIFE
Joe Lewis and John Sorenson stood at attention on an overcast and chilly morning. They were as military on this day as they’d been in Vietnam, 40 years ago. Each wore a cap, displaying his military service and membership in Vietnow. A few feet from them, a dozen American flags held in line on either side of a drive leading up to the front doors of a Crystal Lake funeral home. Patriot Guard Riders gripped the Stars and Stripes, the flags Joe and John affixed their eyes to, despite the flags waving in the wind. They watched as a detail of soldiers lowered the coffin of Sgt. Jason McLeod out of a hearse. The hearse had followed police cars and fire trucks and the Patriot Guard Riders from Du Page County Airport, past Crystal Lake Central High School where McLeod had attended a few years earlier to the funeral home. The soldier was finally in his home town, a long trip from Afghanistan, not unlike the return of the bodies of four area soldiers killed earlier in the year in Afghanistan. Three of those soldiers were from the National Guard Unit in Woodstock and Lewis and Sorenson attended their services. The two had vowed not to let their fellow soldiers returning home from Afghanistan and Iraq for military burial face what they did so many years ago from a distasteful national conscience. That’s why on this day with television news helicopters hovering overhead making this the top news story of the afternoon, Lewis, Sorenson and their group of eight members of the VFW, American Legion, and Vietnow Chapter held forth, a wall of veteran experiences. Radio talk show hosts and columnists were only hours away from saying Afghanistan had better not turn into another Vietnam. By the early evening, the nation would hear President Obama unveil his plan for sending 30-thousand soldiers into Afghanistan, the land where on November 23rd, Jason McLeod lost his life to a mortar attack. His wife stood at the entrance to the funeral home, holding a few tissues. Her expression was one I hadn’t seen in awhile. Pain was certainly evident on her face, but I saw something else, a look that had me transfixed on her eyes and mouth, trying to understand just what it was that forced her to bend over slightly and cock her head to the side. ..and then I heard John Sorenson say that through his tour of duty in the Vietnam War and the thousands of others that lived and died in the jungle, he hoped that no one would have to go and fight in any future wars because he stressed that “it’s a horrible waste of life, that we must find another way of settling differences.” I knew then the body language I saw from McLeod’s wife told all who could interpret that his life was not wasted, he did what he felt he must and would not hesitate for a moment if he had another chance. His 15 month old daughter must know that Jason McLeod is a hero and she will, her mother will say that the right decisions sometimes come at a great cost, but don’t hesitate to make the right decision. Believe our way of life is best. Jason McLeod did. His was not a wasted life….but a valuable life cut short.
A CANDLE LIGHTS THE WAY
From several directions you can walk into the Woodstock Square and on most nights, people with as many different reasons as there are entrances to the Square converge. On the night Jane and Bev brought dozens of candles to the Square, their convergence wasn’t a mere walk in the park. This was their annual Domestic Violence Candlelight Vigil. Bev Thomas and Jane Farmer would have each and every person reach into the pile of candles and pick one out to hold. The lights illuminated the faces of those surrounding the gazebo on the square; women and men and children, all huddling together, keeping the chill away, warming each other instead, for this solidarity of purpose, ending domestic violence. But I’ve been to many of these Candlelight Vigils on the Woodstock Square, and each one calls to memory the victims from our area and how their deaths are the light that’ll show the way to safety for someone else.
Emotions caught up even the Executive Director of Turning Point as Jane Farmer read the names of victims; women who are neighbors, aunts, and friends. Domestic violence knows no bounds. My recorder kept taping. Just Duet strummed their guitars on the square and sang songs, “Let It Be” and other tunes appropriate for the mood. At that moment the song made its emotional appeal, I wondered how we could transform this feeling into something that would stop those who would control and abuse. Those seeing the Candlelight Vigil are not the abusers, they are the abused, but maybe on this night, an abuser would step forward and tell us how the light exposed a new direction. He did step forward, detailing a childhood of abuse, wanting only to stop it, but no power to do so. He protected his sisters, he thought, but they too were affected. As he got older, his relationships were all one of control and verbal and physical abuse. He had become what he most abhorred…and he grew worse with each day, not realizing he had choices. A good athlete, he envisioned a certain type of life, but his was way out of control and prison came up fast. After prison, he finally was pushed in front of the choices and began to turn himself around, eventually completing a program where he’d become trained in helping abusers see they too had choices. The candles light the way at the Candlelight Vigil, but only those who can see the light’s direction benefit and mostly they are the victims’ families. But sometimes we make progress in securing safety to one more potential victim’s home….and the benefits are many; the kids, their parents, all their relatives and friends, the employers, the schools, all are affected.
A candlelight vigil on a cold and damp night brought the promise of a better tomorrow. I would not have missed this event for anything because one saved life radiates out, shining brightly on one’s home and all the rooms inside.
RADIO IS FOR GIRLS?
When WMTH signed on the air 50 years ago, Harry Ford’s voice was the first voice heard. Wouldn’t be much of a milestone had Harry been just one of many thousands of voices heard on the student station at Maine East High School. His voice though was the voice we remember making STAR WARS exciting, giving us an unforgettable character in AMERICAN GRAFFITI, providing one adventure after another in INDIANA JONES. Not that “Harry” Harrison Ford would attend a 50th anniversary of the high school radio station, but the rich history of the station gave many alumni a reason to spend a weekend participating in the milestone anniversary of WMTH Radio and the 35th anniversary of WMTH TV.
I never stepped into the student radio station during my four years at Maine East, and when another student suggested I join WMTH in 1971, I turned the offer down, saying “radio is for girls,” which really made no sense then and makes no sense now. So I never met Mr. Mitchell in the speech and drama department….not until WMTH’s 50th anniversary this September. He held court in the station, standing in the middle of a dozen alumni, fielding questions. I caught his name tag dangling from his neck and the name was fairly easy to read as I walked into the room. “Mr. Mitchell”, the name tag seemed like a beacon questioning me what I was doing there and then he filled the space asking me, “who are you?” I felt naked without a name tag, but quickly realized I hadn’t paid for any of the WMTH events, so the name tag and accompanying shirt weren’t parting gifts for my experience on this day in front of Mr. Mitchell. I had an additional problem answering Mr. Mitchell. Someone told me he had passed away a few years ago, and I carried that thought into the room, only to see the name tag and then I repeated in my mind, he’s alive, he’s alive, okay what is he asking me because a dozen others are now staring at me and wondering who I am to interrupt. “I’m Stew Cohen,” I robotically said, thinking this probably won’t go over very well because the stations where I work can’t really be heard in Park Ridge without a really, really, good radio. He let my name that came out of my mouth fall to the floor and then he read the radio call letters on the front of my black shirt, “Y 103.9.” I wasn’t sure now whether I could ever just wonder around the radio station, I’d have to answer Mr. Mitchell to his satisfaction for a “pass” to reach the studio. “I’m News Director for two radio stations, Y 103.9 and STAR 105.5. “ He took this to mean, “there are actually radio stations with news?” I quickly jumped into the circle, now facing Mr. Mitchell as though I was his on-air guest, “there’s news in McHenry County, though we do cover all of Chicagoland.” I couldn’t minimize the importance, making people think we just focus on McHenry County. For someone I thought had passed away, he was pretty lively. I guess I gave him enough for an invisible pass to the rest of the radio station, and so I prepared to venture forth, first encountering Dale Wittlock, Class of ’73 and we talked. We had known each other through Monty Abrams, Class of ’72, and he had walked into the station behind me, but quickly left because he didn’t think he knew anyone. Then someone I knew looked familiar said my name and I looked at his tag, Dean Moss and I knew him, but couldn’t immediately place him. He said we worked together in 1979 for the Mal Bellairs’ family on radio. Dean is now in real estate, a pretty good move back then. So I was having fun reminiscing about the old days and then someone else said my name and this was Scott Cohn, and he thanked me for teaching him as an intern at WYEN-FM in Des Plaines. Now Scott is working with CNBC and I thought that was great. Finally a student asked what she could do to train as an intern in promotions and I gave her a name and a direction to pursue once she’s in college. Even though I hadn’t worked at WMTH as a student, I felt on this day, talking to those who had, that I did something really worthwhile and it was hard to tear away and leave, but I had a dinner across the street where a dozen of my classmates were gathering for our every other month dinner. I finally put to rest a stupid comment I made as a teenager that radio is for girls and I truly became a part of a radio station’s history and for this moment at WMTH, I’m proud to have made a difference.
Professional Humorous Illustrator Terry Sirrell says goodbye to Kiddieland.
*Kiddieland closed September 27th in spectacular fashion. Thousands of people came the final day and lines were at least an hour long on some rides like the Little Dipper. KIDDIELAND
Kiddieland in Melrose Park is the Chicago area’s Disneyland minus Tomorrowland and other theme parks within Walt Disney’s sprawling southern California site. Although not on the same level for entertainment with Disneyland or Disneyworld, Kiddieland had longevity on its side. The park has operated for 80-years, far surpassing Disney’s parks. But time seems no longer on the side of Kiddieland, the park is open for its final summer season. For the millions of families in Chicagoland that could not afford a Disney trip to California, a trip to Kiddieland served them well. I am a Kiddieland Kid, having spent many a summer day riding the Kiddieland Express train, or wishing I had enough courage to board the Little Dipper roller coaster. As I got older, Riverview took over as my theme park of choice…..but those summer days in the late 1950s and early 1960s are etched in my memory. My mom and dad never worried I’d have a problem with a ride at Kiddieland and they enjoyed the atmosphere of safety and fun. Kiddieland's name really said it all for me. I found a place where they really cared I had a good time. The final visit for me was probably in the mid 1960s, I was 10-years-old and I didn’t know this would be the last visit, but I took a good look at the Express train that worked its way around the perimeter of Kiddieland, real smoke billowing from its engine and the engineer wearing a face that often broke into a smile . I saw the track and waited for another train to go by, but my parents and I had been there all day and this was now nighttime and the trains had stopped running.
One day this summer, another child will look back from the parking lot to the park as his parents are taking him or her to their car to leave. If the child's like me, he or she will look hard for that one last time, a long "take it in" look, at the rides and the train and all that made this experience a great one for a kid..but what’ll make this final look different, is that Kiddieland ceases to exist after September 27th. The lease on the land is running out…and the families that own Kiddieland are looking to sell to developers. Good bye Kiddieland, you join the ranks of the best parks that gave many of us the best summer adventures and are now solely in our memory. Thanks Kiddieland, Riverview, Santa’s Village and Adventureland.
A WHOLE HEARTED HUG
As disciplined as he is, I could not imagine Dustin Cresey thinking anything other than wanting to dart out of the gazebo on the Woodstock Square, jump the gazebo steps and run into the arms of his parents. The 21-year-old from Belvidere, however, stood motionless in line with other Illinois Army National Guard and listened to Major General William Enyart, Adjutant General for the Illinois National Guard. Enyart called each and every one of the members of Company D, 1st Battalion, 178th Infantry, a hero. He didn’t pick out Cresey or any one specific standing at attention, but he noted through their efforts in Afghanistan for the past year that they have stood up to the challenge. The General noted these soldiers were building the schools for children in Afghanistan , they dug wells, built a bridge, connected three irrigation pipe systems and worked on another 20 projects. They also patrolled, according to Enyart, and one such patrol he painfully recalled, his voice a bit lower than before, led to the deaths of three soldiers from Company D; Sgt. Robert Weinger of Round Lake Beach, Sgt. Christopher Abeyta of Midlothian, and Spc. Norman Cain of Mount Morris. Their humvee was struck by a roadside explosive. Two months later, Sgt. Lukasz Saczek of Lake-in-the-Hills died from non combat related injuries. These soldiers were remembered, their pictures on easels near their families. Before the Major General walked over to the podium in front of the gazebo, the soldiers marched into the square….on a cobblestone walkway flanked by people holding standard size U-S flags. This generated great excitement among those at the ceremony, sitting on the opposite side of the square, not yet gaining a full picture of their loved ones returning, but they would minutes later, their soldier husbands and sons ascending the steps of the gazebo to look out at their families gathered together. This love, you could feel, this relief, this mounting joy waiting to burst...primed, I believe from the soldiers earlier coming into the square, accompanied by the Patriot Guard on motorcycles and firetrucks circling the square......hitting with their tires each of the stones that make the square unique in northern Illinois….This feeling, you can’t really understand unless per chance, you’re among those waiting on the square to see someone that you prayed for to live while doing the job he was trained for in a dangerous part of the world. The power of the rumbling fire trucks and patriotic music blaring from the speakers on the gazebo pierced everyone, and brought Cresey’s parents to tears, his father and mother hugging each other, their boy is home from Afghanistan. In minutes they’d learn what it feels like to have someone hug the life out of them and appreciate every moment.
Ribs slathered in Applelicious barbeque sauce drew my attention and the fact the line was the shortest of the seven ribbers at the Rockin Rotary Ribfest in Lake-in-the-Hills gave this event a prominent place in my gastronomic experiences. I knew the Aussie line would be long because the Australian team of ribbers cooked up meaty but soft fall off the bone ribs last year at the first Ribfest. My wife, Rita, and son, Brant, looked forward to their return trip to Sunset Park.
A name like Pigfoot should have drawn attention from this huge crowd gathered in the park, but it didn’t, not so much as some of the other rib grilling masters and their signs of weird sounding names and odd pictures of pigs on motorcycles or pigs holding a knife and fork or a pig smiling at barbeque sauce. I figured each line would be close to an hour wait, but not Pigfoot..so Brant and I waited in that line, and I got to thinking that if heaven were a place where one could eat ribs every day and not put on weight, then this was heaven in Lake-in-the-Hills because ribs are right up there in my life.
I would not want to slave over a grill myself and cook ribs, but I certainly would enjoy someone else slaving over a grill and these masters of the rib and the sauce, beans and cole slaw knew how to make the masses happy and full of meat. The tents where people could eat comfortably if not in full mess mode, were jammed with people hunched over, eating ribs. But I had my son find a spot where we could eat and not have our eyes blinded by the light shining under the tent. There my wife and son waited for me because I had to complete the meal with a large cup of freshly squeezed lemon and sugar and ice, they call lemonade. However, this was an extremely long line and only two people were squeezing, yet there I stayed waiting for a glass and my wife and son waited for me to sit down before they began their assault on the rib dinners. One of the young squeezers had her wing in a cast and I kind of felt sorry for her as she had to use that damaged arm to squeeze lemon juice into these cups. The other helper was a young man and he was in need of a cup of cold lemonade himself. He kept wiping his forehead with the hand he used to squeeze lemons, but I figured this was just the price one pays for real food with character.
We completed our evening at the Rockin Rotary Ribfest with Waffleman, a cold treat, a million other people seemed to need at the same time we did. So again, we waited in line and I think I lost my appetite for Waffleman, but Rita and Brant couldn’t change their mind in a million years, they’d want this treat of vanilla ice cream, fruit and chocolate on a waffle. Then we were done, except for buying the sauces; Applelicious and Aussie for future grilled dinners that wouldn’t exactly match up to this Rockin adventure, but then again, at the Cohen’s home, there’s no waiting in line for anything, we all eat at the same time, though not always in the same room.
QUOTING NOW
I am painfully aware of how deadlines in the media have led to less checking of sources and more immediate acceptance of information and how fast the information spreads through major media outlets. Recently a university student in Dublin, Ireland, fabricated a quote for the obituary of French composer Maurice Jarre, adding the quote to Jarre’s Wikipedia page. Though editors at Wikipedia caught the attribution free quote twice, dozens of blogs in the U-S and newspaper web sites in several countries including Britain used the incorrect information. The student, Shane Fitzgerald, wrote of Jarre “One could say my life itself has been one long soundtrack. Music was my life, music brought me to life, and music is how I will be remembered long after I leave this life. When I die there will be a final waltz playing in my head that only I can hear." This quote is a dream for the media, playing to the ear and to the eye, but Jarre never said this, nor wrote these thoughts on paper. Instead the student gives us something that is very telling of the composer’s character, yet, completely fabricated. The sociology student waited a month before he admitted to the made up quote….but his message was clear….the media is all too dependent on Internet sources.
The obit of the French composer is but one extreme case of the media’s pressures to produce and how they answer by turning to such services on the Internet as Wikipedia. I think the composer should have simply written his own obituary and provided quotes useable by the media, and Wikipedia should have protected at all costs, the work of famous people. Not that I fit into this category, but I’ve been thinking of developing my own media friendly quotes on my life. I don’t want someone either misinterpreting something they thought I said or someone making up a quote because all the things I said that anyone could recall were apparently lame.
During my radio career, I volunteered my time in schools, reading to children for such themed days as “Dr. Seuss’ Birthday” and “Love to Read Week.” This is something I’d like to have people remember. “The words danced off the pages as I read them.” I could read an entire newspaper aloud, never stumbling, never unfocused, always smooth and effortless.
Sitting for hours, writing news copy then reading each and every newscast with the appropriate energy and enthusiasm, was my goal every morning I delivered news on-air. Anyone hearing a newscast for the first time would get my best, I would not shortchange them because they listened really early in the morning or for the last cast. Every one was as important as the one before. “My words spoken in the form of news stories painted pictures in the minds of my listeners and the particular way I expressed my thoughts, gave added nuance to the words.” I would probably never have said this, but for the Dublin student, I’m making sure the truth is told.
More than 30 years ago, I started writing radio news copy and not only was I having a hard time with the conversational style but the words didn’t flow onto my copy paper. I wondered whether I could ever find the creative process less daunting. Over a period of years, the process became easier and began to flow from my mind into my fingers. So I’m saying something else that can go down as something quote friendly. “The words flowed from my mind through my arms and into my fingers dancing finger tango on the keys.” Write for more than 30 years and you too will “Dance with the Stars.”
I feel good with these thoughts and I can’t see how someone would want to embellish what I’ve said here today. I sure hope I’ll develop more media friendly quotes on my life because I’m hoping I’m nowhere near done with my career, but if a kid comes around looking for something the media can snap up…he shouldn’t have to make it up…the quotes are all here already.
A HERO'S WELCOME
A mom’s love knows no boundary lines and reaches her war weary soldier son in Iraq with packages from home and cards and letters and the latest on the three-year- old daughter he hasn’t seen in a year. The cookies are his favorites, the cards are pictures of places he’s seen and the letters talk of life in his hometown and his favorite hangouts. For the moment he’s chewing on the cookie, all of the things outside his sleeping quarters fade away. Staring at the hometown picture or reading how his daughter drew a picture that almost looked like daddy gives him a moment of pause. He’s choked up….but doesn’t want the others to see, not because they’ll think this Marine is weak, but because he doesn’t want them to cry, for they too have been away from their wives and their sons and daughters to fight for what they know is right. The Marines are tough, all of them are protectors of freedom wherever sought. For this 25-year-old soldier, he’ll have to make do with his favorite cookies from childhood and the stories told of his family. But his calendar shows a red “X”, a date on a piece of paper that gives him great hope. Jimmy Reichers of Crystal Lake is coming home to his family this week. His mother, Noreen Stevens, saw the seven months of her son’s service in Iraq as the soldiers saw it, as one day at a time. All those days have disappeared and her Jimmy is headed home for three weeks of combat leave, then he’s in for more training in Hawaii and deployment to Afghanistan for two more years and maybe she thinks he’ll re-up. The ‘here and now’ is what matters, not what will be because Noreen at least has some control over the ‘here and now.’ Her son is coming home now. He’s rightfully pessimistic though, the National Guard and Army receive the ceremonies of flag waving Americans along a parade route welcoming home their hero. His mother has seen the same, but where he says Marines never receive the warmth of America’s spirit, she has reason to disagree. In the past few days, the Marine Corps League Auxiliary of McHenry County has stepped to the front, giving Noreen help. The Auxiliary through Barb Klapperich has supplied a couple hundred American flags at Moe-B-Dicks on North Shore Drive …..and Warrior Watch will lead the motorcade from the Des Plaines Oasis to Crystal Lake. Sign-O-Rama has donated a Welcome Home banner with ‘James’ name on it where the sign can be seen along the route. Also a couple of businesses, 1776 and JA Frate, are honoring Reichers by having his name on their marquee. This soldier, who thinks for a minute, we won’t give him the warmth of a returning hero doesn’t know to what length his mom will go to make sure every effort is expended to prove him wrong. Noreen and her other children had walked the streets of her neighborhood giving the announcement of her returning soldier son. They tried not to miss anyone. This afternoon at 4 o’clock, she’d like to see a sea of waving flags on McHenry Avenue , Route 14 Northwest Highway, North Shore Drive to Moe-B-Dick’s at 1050 N. Shore Drive .
SARA’S HOPE
Crystal Lake South High School teacher Kerrie Kurth brought into the newsroom a picture of Sara and I looked at this color portrait of a beautiful 16-year-old girl with long blond hair and piercing brown eyes. If she were running for queen of the McHenry County Fair, she would be crowned, no question. Just moments before I laid my eyes on a very healthy looking young lady, Kerrie had showed me one of her students in her functioning living skills class at South. The girl in this picture wore a cheerleader type outfit, holding a pom in her hand it appeared, while sitting in a special chair, her eyes closed and head slightly forward. Kerrie told me to my surprise both of these pictures are of the same girl, Sara. But how could this be, the pictures are so different, yet the subject is the same….and the same age? A photographer I’m told did a bit of work on the portrait as Sara would look if she did not suffer from a rare disease. Kerrie and Sara’s nurse, Sheila Gatz of Hospice of Northeastern Illinois and Hope’s Friends told me Sara has Juvenile Batten Disease. Only 200 children suffer from this disease. My decision to help publicize Sara’s Hope is not based on her image of what she might have looked like had she not been suffering from Juvenile Batten Disease. My decision is based on what I learned about Sara and efforts by her friends to help Sara and others with this fatal disease. Every year millions of dollars are raised for cancer cures and heart research and other high profile diseases, but the lesser diseases, really generate very little attention and dollars. What’s 200 people suffering from a rare disease….when millions of people are suffering from cancer or heart disease? For the family of Sara, a cure for Juvenile Batten Disease means everything. You see, this is the type of disease that slowly robs a young person of their eyesight, then their ability to walk, mixed with seizures and speech loss, eventually landing the young person in a wheelchair, then with a feeding tube and eventually death by their late teens, early 20s. Sara lost her sight at age 8 and today she talks but you can’t really understand what she’s saying. Yet her nurse tells me she can understand in her mind what she’s saying, just can’t get the words out properly….in a way she’s trapped. Kerrie Kurth, her teacher at Crystal Lake South High School wears a t-shirt proudly…..with the writing on it saying….Sara’s Hope…so yes you can hope….with friends like Kerrie and Sara’s nurse Sheila Gatz, for they are instrumental in efforts to raise money for Sara and other children just like her. For you see, hope is money. A doctor with the Batten Disease Support and Research Center wants to perform a clinical trial that may help those like Sara……but needs close to 250-thousand dollars on top of the 275-thousand dollars already raised by the Center to begin the trial. In testing mice, the doctor’s work has slowed down the disease and we’re told even reversed the affects of the disease. On Saturday, April 18th, please give a little of yourself, money that is, what you can give for the clinical trial. The Wool Street Grill in Cary will honor Sara’s Hope the night of April 18th from 6 to 9 o’clock. There will be unlimited pizza for a minimum donation you’ll see at the door and raffle prizes. Kerrie and Sheila are realistic in that raising in excess of 200-thousand dollars may not be possible with one fundraiser, but they are hopeful businesses will want to give too and the combination of business and individual donations will bring a smile to Sara’s face and hope that the next shirt says Sara’s cure on it in white letters.
GOOFY DRIVES EM CRAZY
I’m determined to use my serious face for teaching driving lessons to my 15-year-old son. I know from personal experience living with him that any look less than serious will not do. You won’t find in any driver’s instruction booklet a paragraph or two on the faces of a driver’s instructor. Seems too trivial or maybe slightly crazy, but I maintain you have to find a way to make sure the teen in the driver’s seat isn’t just doing his or her own thing; a teenager seeming to know it all. You must know the personality of your teen and understand what type of hand gestures and facial reactions from you will make them listen and respect you the most, especially in these circumstances that you are in the passenger seat and your offspring has the wheel of a death machine. I’m certain my son would not even know I’m sitting next to him if I smiled and nodded, he might think I’m sleeping. He’s so used to seeing the serious face and reacting to its immediacy. I could show a face where my eyes are jutting out of their sockets, but that’s a fear face I should reserve for special occasions. Too much gloom and doom behind the wheel and I’m afraid he’d turn me off as well. So I’ve practiced the serious face in the mirror at home, especially before I go off with him in the driver’s seat. I clinch my teeth, furrow my brow, and I stare at him, occasionally changing my stare into a glare should he stop abruptly or attempt to start an already started engine. I have the techniques down, but do I have the patience? I come from a family where patience wears thin behind the wheel. My dad taught my mother how to drive many years ago and I can recall that I never wanted to drive after that experience. But I would be fortunate. When I was learning the 3 point turns of driving, parallel parking, and switching lanes, I had a professional high school driver’s instructor in the passenger seat and he had an extra brake under his foot. I never had either of my parents in their car teaching me to drive. So I didn’t learn their bad habits and I gained a bit of confidence with my professional instructor. Yet I've had to take my son for 50 hours of driving day and night. What is the Secretary of State asking of me? This pressure could send me into heart palpitations. I don’t need more stress in my life, I need less stress. But my wife works long days and isn’t really available during the week to spend the necessary time on teenage driving instruction. Then the unthinkable happened. My son misplaced his wallet in school. Seems the school scheduled pajama day and he decided to wear sweats to school and he put his somewhat fattened wallet in his pocket, but somehow the wallet fell out. In the wallet were his permit to drive, student ID, money, school and bus pass. This news of course disturbed me. I hate losing anything and I once lost my wallet in high school too so this brought back memories. But I also kind of felt relief because I wouldn’t have to continue teaching him how to drive until he had his permit back and we couldn’t go immediately to the Secretary of State Driver’s License facility in Woodstock because I had to work late. But then after a couple of days of searching in school, one of the teachers found the wallet and everything was intact and he was ready again to drive me crazy.
Stew Cohen
LINCOLN’S 200TH BIRTHDAY
My friend Terry Sirrell is a professional humorous illustrator and I asked whether he might have a drawing of Abraham Lincoln from his portfolio of artwork..and he came up with a wonderful Lincoln drawing that I'm proud to include in my story on Honest Abe. You can go to these links for additional information on Terry's work....and check out other stories on Stew's Page for more Sirrell.-Stew Cohen
Reaching up with one arm, using the other arm for balance, I stood on my toes and stretched my arm as far as I could over my head, until the tips of my fingers made contact with his nose and the nostrils felt smooth as I expected; cold and smooth. This I think is the most touched nose in the world at the cemetery where Abraham Lincoln is entombed in granite. Touching the nose of Honest Abe’s bronze bust at the base of the Lincoln burial site at Oak Ridge Cemetery represents good luck, that’s the belief anyway. For me, the magic year was 1968, I was 14 years-old and could reach the bust by myself, no boost up from my father. My parents, sister and I visited Springfield that year and made sure to stop at the usual Lincoln sites; his tomb, his home, and the old state capital building. Nearly 40 years passed, I returned to the cemetery, this time, with my own family and made sure my youngest son experienced the Lincoln magic as I did so many years before. But my son couldn’t reach even the tip of Abe’s prodigious nose, as Brant was only 10-years-old and not quite tall enough. So I lifted him off the ground as best I could and he stretched his arm over his head and probably reached the same shiny spot I touched along with 10-million others, though I couldn’t exactly know the number of nose patters.
I sense a special fondness for Abraham Lincoln in the people of Illinois. The number of people visiting his Springfield home, the Lincoln Museum, the Old Capital, and other sites impresses even the most skeptical of tourist directors. We have such a fascination with everything Lincoln. Maybe for people living further away from the states Lincoln lived in, there’s not the same kind of worship, I don’t know for sure because the 16th President’s legacy affects everyone in this country, that being the outcome of the Civil War and the removal of the chains that enslaved so many.
The 200th birthday celebration of Abraham Lincoln in February provides us an opportunity to use history as a tool to experience those things Lincoln stood for as truth, patriotism, freedom, and a dedication to God. A committee, headed by Tina Hill, a McHenry County board member and assistant to State Representative Mike Tryon of Crystal Lake, is working on a very ambitious series of programs and events, dedicated to all things Lincoln. The committee has a web site at www.alincoln200.com where you’ll see a beautifully crafted site showing all the upcoming Lincoln events in McHenry County. I’m personally attending as many as I can and hopefully my son will join as he is completely inspired by the work of Lincoln. Check out the Lincoln Birthday dinner for the Dole Mansion in Crystal Lake, probably the highlight of the whole McHenry County involvement. You’ll find the information on the web site as well as dates for special events such as a public reading of Lincoln’s Gettysburg Address, and Lincoln readings at various libraries.
Don’t miss this opportunity to learn for yourself and if you have children, then get them involved in at least seeing some of the Lincoln events. There’s a reason after all we spend the time on Abe’s life. He represented the best of the human spirit in the toughest of times. We may never face the kind of pressures he endured, but we need to know we have the capacity to do what’s right and good and we can stand up and show people that our civilization has enough good people in it……to survive any crisis…whether it be the current economic crisis or some other type that tests our strength.
AMERICAN IDOL
So long to all the activities I’ve been doing in the evening and hello to AMERICAN IDOL. Life as I know it stands still every night that host Ryan Seacrest and judges Simon Cowell, Paula Abdul and Randy Jackson sit down and stare at singing wannabes. Been fun these past few months since David Cook won American Idol’s seventh season. I’ve had quality evenings with my sons, I’ve made great dinners for my wife, and I’ve played computer games, and worked on fixing things in the house, and fixing them again cause they weren’t fixed right the first time. BEEN fun….yes, but my craving for all things IDOL must be satisfied and in January I’m finally sitting again in front of my television set watching the horrid singers performing songs I can’t identify. I’m watching the good singers elicit smiles from Simon and I’m watching Paula being non committal on most of the performers. Except for a few tweaks here and there, every season follows a pattern of auditions, embarrassments, group performances, embarrassments, eliminations, embarrassments, and the crowning of a new AMERICAN IDOL. Not this year, changes are more than brewing….changes are in the wind in Phoenix, Arizona, where Tuesday night, January 13, I met a new judge for Idol. She’s Kara DioGuardi, a very successful songwriter, and a woman I found to express opinions and can find time between the long winded Simon, put upon Paula, and vocabulary challenged Randy to say what she thinks…even to the point of getting into a cat fight with a bikini clad contestant she felt wasn’t filling out the voice part as well as she filled out her two piece. I will join Jim Shea, morning host of Y 103.9 a couple mornings a week in a brief discussion of Idol and we’ll run through what we thought stood out from the Idol show that night. On the first night in Phoenix, Arizona, amid the cactus and unrelenting heat, the singers put themselves out there for Simon, Kara, Paula, and Randy to like or dislike or find strange. Not all were alien like characters, talentless and clueless, some singers made Kara and Paula sway to the music, some brought smiles to Simon’s face, and a few made Randy sit up and give his 110 percent to Hollywood directive. This reality show gives a glimpse of American life that can’t be found on other reality shows. We learned about Scott, a 23-year-old nearly blind singer songwriter pianist from Scottsdale, Arizona. Scott narrated his story from the living room of his family home where he played piano and talked of inspiring sight challenged people to accomplish their dreams. Deana Brown of Louisville, Kentucky performed Sitting on the Dock of the Bay and told of how her family could not accompany her to Arizona, but they were home anticipating her call with the golden ticket to Hollywood. The tattoo girl, 21-year-old Emily Wynne Hughes of Los Angeles, was a member of an all girls band and they were preparing for performances in Europe, but Emily thought this was her chance to appear on American Idol and Simon asked where was her loyalty. She pointed to Chris Daughtry, a finalist on American Idol a few years ago and noted he got the notoriety and reformed his band and they’ve been busy ever since. The American Dream…..American Idol……only in America Where we dream as big as we want to…We all get a chance, Everybody gets to dance, Only in America… Brooks and Dunn.
BELL RINGING
Taken from Stew's Public Affairs Show called NORTHWEST SPECTRUM.
(bell ringing)
Can you tell me the history of the bell you hear ringing,…….Here’s a hint…..the metal on the bell’s shell is red…….and the sound of the metal ball bearing clanging in the shell brings people from all around, digging into their pockets or purses, finding loose change or dollar bills. Every December, thousands and thousands of volunteer bell ringers, all dedicated to the Salvation Army, arm themselves with bells as they tie on Salvation Army aprons and place large red kettles on a stand. This ritual of kettle, bell and apron repeats itself all month for the Christmas Red Kettle Campaign. . Earlier I asked you to think about the history of the bell you heard ringing. The bell is tied to my personal experience of using this very bell and a companion bell at Wal-Mart in Crystal Lake on a Thursday morning earlier this month. I partnered with the morning host on Y 103.9FM, Jim Shea and we worked in the warming room of Wal-Mart for a couple of hours. I made a fist....no I didn't wave my fist at those customers ignoring our pleas, I wedged the bell handles between fingers on my right hand, and in my left hand I held a larger and far older, more war worn bell from the Salvation Army. This formula for bell ringing should be adopted by all bell ringing volunteers, but for now, I think I was the only one. My bell ringing partner, Jim Shea chose to ring just one bell and his was close to one of mine in age and sound. I proceeded to perform a steady sound, similar in tone to what you might hear should the cross arms get stuck in the down position at a rail crossing. Actually, the sound wasn't like that....more like an idiot ringing three bells, and the idiot was me....shouldn't be so hard on myself, I was doing good for the Salvation Army, and yes, customers at Wal-Mart could hear the bells all the way in the back of the store where people were trying to buy Christmas supplies and getting their digital shots produced into cd's and pictures. Moms with their little kids wheeled in large Wal-Mart carts strolled up to us, prompting Jim and I in unison, wishing them "Happy Holidays" and a "Happy New Year." I threw in an extra wish, especially for those rolling a couple of bucks into the red kettle, maybe a "stay warm this Winter" or a "thank you for your generosity from the Salvation Army." Two hours of ringing bells and thanking shoppers for donating, but mostly we both stood around, joking with each other, listening to Jim's boombox he brought for background sound of one of our stations. Occasionally someone walked in from the parking lot with their cell phone attached to their head, listening and talking, a conversation, they would soon find more difficult to hear once they opened the door to the super store. I took it upon myself, a challenge to ring those bells louder than ever, and drown out their phone conversation, making it near impossible to ignore us, but I didn't win that battle. I suppose the facial expressions told the story, the customers seemed less than pleased, but they didn't remove the phone from their head...and each rushed through the entryway and into the store, past those two crazy guys with their loud bell ringing. My long underwear, thick socks, boots, hat, and gloves proved too warm, we weren't outside as we were last year, so this time, I would finish my shift and my feet wouldn't stay behind, frozen solid on the cement. I was pretty warm and the blood was still moving fairly well through my extremities. I can't tell how much the two of us made for the Salvation Army, but I can guess we did pretty good...and what was surprising, we'd typically make money in waves, groups of three people would give at a time, then we'd get nothing for awhile, and all of a sudden...someone would give...then another...and another..then nothing again.....and you can see, this cyclical thing developing. The two hours finally were up...and we returned the kettle to the information desk at Wal Mart and went on our merry way, grateful to do our part to help people in need of Salvation Army services. We wish you a wonderful holiday season....and if you can give your time so others may benefit, then please talk to the Salvation Army. The Army needs your help in bell ringing......they don't have near enough volunteers for their collections.
Sheriff Keith Nygren would like to remind all residents of McHenry County to take all necessary and appropriate precautions on our roadways, especially during this winter season. Here are a few suggestions the McHenry County Sheriff's Office has to help you drive safely.
Please SLOW DOWN; drive at slower pace as you may come across unsafe road conditions, reduced visibility, or vehicles stalled in the road.
Please be aware of other drivers on the roadway, please use defensive driving tactics.
Allow extra distance between your vehicle and the vehicle in front of you. Also allow extra distance for stopping.
Apply the brakes slowly.
Watch out for blowing or drifting snow on the roadways. This occurs especially in rural areas.
Black ice can appear at anytime and anywhere, especially at intersections.
If heavy snow is falling or is predicted, please do NOT be on the roads if you do not need to drive.
While 4 wheel drive vehicles may be of some assistance on wintry roads, they do not brake any better than two wheel drive vehicles. Caution and extra braking distance is very much still needed.
Take emergency supplies with you including cellular phones, extra warm clothing, shovel, etc.
As always yield to emergency vehicles and assist those that may need your assistance.
And please give the snow plow drivers room to work. Do not tailgate a snow plow truck.
Through education and enforcement, we have lowered the number of injury traffic crashes on McHenry County roads. We want to keep this trend going. With everyone's help we can do it. Sheriff Nygren thanks you for doing your part in keeping everyone safe on our roadways.
FAKIR
I've run across unusual names I've pronounced on-air over my career as a news anchor.. Fortunately none of these names sound like a swear word from comedian George Carlin's list of The Seven Words You Can Never Say On Television. The bosses at the radio station where I work are set against us using Carlin like language, warning us of possible termination should we use any of Carlin's list of words. Of course, I agree.....I won't even read a story describing a body part that's not someone's arm, leg, head or torso. I received faxed information on a local guy that had caused a fatal crash. This was indeed a serious story and worth a mention. Yet immediately the red flags went up in my brain, since the man's first name is F-a-k-i-r. Has to be someone named F-A-K-I-R. Probably a fairly common name in some parts of the world, though, in this part of the world, my bosses are unlikely aware of anyone with such a name. My first newscast was scheduled as normal at 5:30am and I had the man's first and last name and I read the story second in the newscast and after reading the name F-a-k-i-r, all I could do was think of how I said his name as I read the words of the third, fourth, and fifth stories, so completely lost in the copy, that I had no idea what I was saying through the very end of the newscast with my name and station as the last few words. All I could think of was whether I said his name in such a way it didn't sound like a swear word. I had practiced this word, F-a-k-i-r, several times, before the 5:30am cast....and I came upon what I believed the best way for me to stay out of trouble...pronouncing his name as fay-kir rather than f-a-h---k-e-e-r...I could give you a second to digest this....but I won't...heck, I won't even say the name. Before the next newscast, 6am, I made a management type decision, one based on being safe, and determined not to use his first name...instead I'd go for his second or middle name and last name....and the middle name was clearly a safe name to pronounce......and that's how I'd pursue this through the rest of the morning. He'd no longer be known as F-a-k-i-r.....but by his middle name. So it's not 100 percent accurate, I can't have the image of kids sitting around the kitchen table preparing for school, asking for cereal from mom and a glass of milk,.....then hearing me tell of a guy that was in a fatal crash ....and then pronounce his first name as though I were swearing at him....saying he's a bad guy using one of the most derogatory terms.....a word that George Carlin would find offensive.
WICKED
(Terry Sirrell is an award winning Humorous Illustrator from the Chicago area, whose work appears in books, on cereal boxes and can easily be found on his websites:
www.tsirrell.com and www.cafepress.com/wackeewear.
Terry's witch image is from his book , "Oh, Yikes! History's Grosset, Wackiest Moments." For his work, he's won a Parents Choice Award. )
“Somewhere Over the Rainbow” played in my head a few times as I found my seat in the most ornate of buildings, the Ford Center For The Performing Arts Oriental Theater in downtown Chicago . Finally the day came for my wife and I to see Wicked, the sold out story behind the Wizard of Oz. Rita had bought for her birthday a present of two tickets for seats in the orchestra section; ticket prices that put us within a few rows of the stage. We were seated on the left side; the middle and right sides in the orchestra sections were taken by the time she bought our seats, but I marvel anyway. In a time as this, the economy sinking, the retail shops scared over the possibility of a bleak holiday shopping season, inside the Oriental Theater, just about every expensive seat was filled and the less expensive seats were filled too both on the main floor and in the balcony. Maybe the fact Wicked will play only through January 25th in Chicago has generated enough excitement to bring out those initially hesitant to spend the money and venture to the downtown theater district where Dirty Dancing is playing at the Cadillac Palace and Jersey Boys is playing at the Bank of America Theater. Many of my friends had already seen Wicked and they would not explain anything. Must be a code they follow not to give away the secrets of this popular musical. So I didn’t know whether my favorite show tune might play in this fabulous theater and I didn’t know what would play out in this story, outside of course, of seeing a green witch, the Wicked Witch of the West and Glinda, the Good Witch of the North. We settled into our seats, though I wasn’t so settled, had to check out the ceiling, the walls, the girl coughing next to me, the exit signs, and the large metal dragon dangling from on high in the theater. This was a pure experience, unlike anything I’d found watching plays at high schools, even at the wonderful Raue Center in Crystal Lake or the Opera House in Woodstock. No theater I had seen in the past compared to the architecture of the Oriental….and I sensed no play or musical I’d seen would match the creativity of Wicked, which would make sense because the Wizard of Oz was such a creative masterpiece from the mind of L Frank Baum. We bought the slick color Wicked program for $20 and were given two free playbills where the names of the performers were listed and paragraphs were written about each. Before Wicked started, I already knew Dee Roscioli was the Wicked Witch of the West and Annaleigh Ashford was Glinda, the Good Witch of the North. I also knew that Dee once sang the national anthem for the Chicago Bears, so I would think she can’t be all that wicked?....unless the Bears lost that game….but the program never said. Annaleigh appeared in the film Sex and the City and on television, Legally Blonde. I would perk up for her appearance I figured. The lights dimmed and the dragon dangling to the right of us came to life, its eyes glowed and its wings flapped, and the ropes tied to it moved in some pre determined pattern, held tight by a character in the musical on a platform high above us. The girl on my left coughed some more, maybe she sensed something in me…Maybe I’d been under a spell from the Wicked Witch and I began nodding off, head bobbing, and yet this musical had everything I could want so I’d stay alert. It had a green character, people in odd indescribable costumes, dialogue I could barely hear if the characters faced away from me and yet…….every so often, a bang or boom or some loud orchestral music filled the Oriental, reaching to the back of the balcony. My wife didn’t need to elbow me as usual at some of the plays and musicals we’ve seen. I was tortured by the musical score of Wicked and by the hard to follow low volume dialogue. But the music lifted spirits….the Wicked Witch of the West lifted into the air, the flying monkeys lifted into the air, everything seemed to be airborne. And the lights followed, amazing light show got me a bit teary eyed, but since I was probably the only one in the theater choking up a bit, I kind of held back my emotion. So I was tearing up….then nodding off….and then watching some more…then nodding off….and tearing up….and following the musical as best I could….then the girl would cough some more…and now she had some type of liquid she was guzzling, and I figured this would help keep me awake to watch the second half of the musical, where I’d see a silhouette of Dorothy of the Wizard of Oz pouring what appeared to be a bucket of water on the Wicked Witch of the West…and she melted….and I was now fully tearing up……I do follow the code of Wicked …so I can’t tell you what happens next…other than to say, the musical was ending and I was no longer tearing up….and then something kind of wrecked my whole appreciation…..the male star toed the front edge of the stage and hawked all kinds of products from Wicked like he was really the Wizard of Oz before…when the Wizard was just a salesman selling elixers.
MASKING FUN AT HALLOWEEN
One-hundred dollars for first place and two lesser amounts for second and third place, why that's pretty good prize money for slapping together a costume for our Friday Halloween party at the radio station. I've never been one to dress in a costume just for the sheer pleasure of wearing something other than the usual office clothes. I don't go to costume parties at friends homes and I really never enjoyed as a kid wearing a costume for trick or treat canvassing of my neighborhood, so mostly I kept my coat zipped and wore a pair of gloves and only occasionally did someone ask what I was supposed to be. "A clown butler without the makeup," I said, but this tended not to sit well with too many of the neighbors sliding Milky Way bars and Tootsie Rolls in those little plastic goulish bags. I believe my anti Halloween getup attitude started one Halloween as a kid walking the neighborhood in a clown mask that needed an elastic string stapled from one side to the other. I couldn't see through the tiny peephole eyes and my nose did not quite lineup with the nose holes in the clown mask. Not only was the walking troublesome and slightly dangerous, but my breathing grew labored and the mask felt wet on the inside. Oh, this wasn't so good, so I pulled off the mask, walked a few feet, then put the mask back on....and that wasn't so good....so I pulled the mask and nearly got hit by a car. This was the last mask for me. From this point foreward, I would not wear a mask and so I'd be a pirate, or a tennis player, or an artist, or a football player. No masks, a helmet or two, but no masks for me. Yet the 100 dollar prize is pretty good....and I could be a news reporter, carrying a microphone or a census taker with a pad of paper or maybe something more adventureous. My younger son wears presidential masks, so maybe I could borrow one of his masks; President Reagan, President Bush, President Lincoln, then again, I'd wear a mask and my face and masks aren't really so compatable, however these masks are made of latex, and I don't have anything against latex. I think I'll surprise my staff in my choice and I'll wear a suit and red, white and blue tie, and for this, I may not get the 100-dollars, but maybe I'll qualify for the 50-dollars or 25-dollars, or maybe if lucky, no one else will wear anything, and I'll win the 100-dollars.
The Illinois Department of Public Health has offered tips for a safe Halloween, tips we're happy to pass along and maybe I'll actually benefit too. These are tips for those in their cars, watching the little ones dart back and forth across the street. Please slow down, especially in residential areas, enter and exit driveways slowly and carefully. For homeowners, turn on an outside light if you are welcoming trick or treaters, clear walkways and yards, keep dogs and other animals inside and away from the door and that includes little kids that are biters.
These are certainly good suggestions.....and if you are into carving pumpkins into scary faces and like to use lit candles, then place those pumpkins well away from anything that can burn including doorsteps, walkways and yards.
Well, I have to go put my costume on and win the 100-dollars.
CHARLIE
I understand there are times on the road where you might hit someone's cat or dog. You're told as a young driver not to swerve into another lane to avoid hitting an animal, but if you can slow down or honk to alert the animal, then by all means, do these things, but don't put someone's life in jeopardy by swerving. Yet this doesn't mean you should not stop and try to contact police where the animal was hit. You should do all you can because the animal is likely someone's beloved pet and they are worried sick. Kristin Smith owns Charlie, as she describes him as a "big hound." Charlie was hit on the road recently and left to die by a motorist that fled without contacting police for help. Kristin asked me if there's anything she can do through our station to plead as an animal lover that people do what's right and humane in cases like this. I'll let Kristin tell the story.
On the morning of October 21, 2008 my dog was hit by a motorist on Greenwood Road in Wonder Lake. Instead of stopping and alerting anyone at all, the motorist made a conscience decision to leave him to die on the road. His only saving grace was that a girl that has horses at our stable was leaving and found Charlie lying in the road. My mom and a friend took Charlie to the vet right away. He was hurt very badly. He was bleeding from his mouth and ears and was very swollen, so swollen, that the vets cannot tell the extent of his injuries. They think he might have broken bones in his neck and legs, but cannot tell until the swelling goes down. He may or may not survive this tragedy. For many of us, our pets are like family. A lot of people cannot understand this because they feel that they are just animals, but those of you animal lovers out there, know how I feel right now. I am appalled that someone could hit a big dog and leave him to die on the road. I also know that some of you may be thinking that we are at fault for having him get out to the road. Regardless of that, it is not acceptable to leave the scene of an accident, especially when it involves a living thing. And it would be next to impossible for a motorist to not know they hit this dog. He is a big hound, so it would have been noticeable. My heart hurts that Charlie may not survive this incident. It saddens me more that people can just run over a dog and leave. Where has our compassion gone? Are we so busy and so concerned with ourselves that we have lost all ability to care for others? What is the point of this story, you ask? Well, I am asking that everyone take a moment to say a prayer for Charlie. I am also asking that you take time to reflect on life a little and appreciate the little things we have and the importance of all living things. Take the time to stop once in a while from your busy lives and think about the consequences of your actions, big or small. And to the person who hit Charlie and has put him and my family through this pain, for shame. Shame on you for being such a selfish, uncaring individual.
Sincerely,
Kristin
Thank you, Kristin. From our station to your family, we most certainly hope Charlie survives his ordeal and heals from his injuries. But most of all, we plead with our intelligent readers and listeners that you can spread the word to others, that animals have rights and they can hurt like us. Don't let animals like Charlie have to suffer. Get help immediately, be responsible, and most of all, be humane.
Just thought I would give you a quick update on Charlie. Charlie has made quite a bit of progress since his accident. Things were not looking good in the beginning and we were seriously considering putting him down. We decided to wait and give him a little longer. Since then, he has received his surgery on his fractured leg and has a cast on his front leg. He is able to get around and is walking around. He actually wagged his tail yesterday, which was a first. He still cannot see, but we think he can at least see figures a little. We are hoping that his site with recover. He is not completely out of the woods yet, but is definitely taking steps forward. I want to thank the great staff at the Richmond Veterinary Clinic for their support and caring. I would also like to thank the people at the Hebron Animal Clinic, where Charlie received his surgery. Without the support of these people and your support also, Stew, I am not sure that we would have had the hope or resolve in pushing forward with Charlie's recovery. So, I thank you as well. Finally, thank you to all the people who prayed for Charlie. I am hopeful that he will have a long life ahead. -Kristin
GIVE NO QUARTERS
WHAT CHILD WOULD NOT FIND COLLECTING COINS A VERY SATISFYING , IF NOT ACTIVE HOBBY? YOU AS A PARENT ARE THINKING, "THIS COIN COLLECTING THING IS VERY GOOD FOR THE KIDS TO LEARN HOW TO SAVE MONEY AND MAYBE THEY'LL BECOME PROFICIENT MAKING CHANGE. BUT BEFORE YOU GO AND GET YOURSELF CARRIED AWAY IN THESE THOUGHTS, YOU SHOULD KNOW KIDS ARE THINKING SOMETHING ELSE, "HA, I'VE GOT A REASON TO RIFLE THROUGH MOM'S PURSE AND A REASON TO GO THROUGH DAD'S COINS ON HIS DRESSER, IF THEY SHOULD ASK ME WHAT I'M DOING." THE KIDS ARE SAYING TO YOU , "I'M JUST COLLECTING VALUABLE COINS.
I'M FORTUNATE MY KIDS ARE SERIOUS COIN COLLECTORS AND NOT IN THIS TO SKIM COINS FROM ME. . YOU SEE, THEY AND MILLIONS OF OTHER YOUNG PEOPLE WADED INTO THE POOL OF SPECIAL COIN COLLECTING BECAUSE OF THIS GREAT IDEA THE U-S MINT HAD 10 YEARS AGO.....STARTING THE STATE QUARTER PROGRAM. WHAT A SUCCESS!!!! ......AND NOT JUST KIDS LOOKING FOR THOSE SPECIAL QUARTERS FROM WISCONSIN, ARKANSAS, ILLINOIS, NORTH DAKOTA AND THE REST OF THE STATES. ADULTS ARE INTO THIS TOO. I NOTICED MY 85-YEAR-OLD DAD BOUGHT A COLORFUL BOARD WITH A U-S MAP PRINTED ON IT AND FOR EACH STATE, THERE'S A HOLE RIGHT IN THE MIDDLE, WHERE THE COIN GOES. MOST OF THE HOLES ARE FILLED AND MY DAD IS PRETTY PROUD OF HIS WORK..AND BEST OF ALL, HE DIDN'T NEED ANY TAPE TO KEEP THE COINS IN THE HOLES.
I'M HERE TO SAY ALL THIS FUN WITH FILLING HOLES AND FINDING SHINY COINS AND LOOKING THROUGH MOM'S PURSE ENDS IN NOVEMBER. THE LAST STATE IN THE UNITED STATES, HAWAII, COMES OUT IN CIRCULATION THEN....AND I KNOW MY KIDS AND FATHER WILL FIND THESE BEAUTIFUL COINS, AND PUT THEM IN THEIR PLACES OF HONOR; COIN BOOKS AND A COIN MAP.
WE'RE LOOKING AT THE MOST SUCCESSFUL AND POPULAR COIN COLLECTING PROGRAM IN THE HISTORY OF COIN COLLECTING. THE GOVERNMENT'S PURPOSE OF BRINGING OUT THESE STATE QUARTERS FULFILLED A GOAL; PROVIDING KIDS WITH LESSONS ON STATES THEY DIDN'T KNOW THEY WERE LEARNING. THEY ALSO ARE NOW EXPERTS AT RECOGNIZING STATE SYMBOLS...AND THEY ARE PROFESSIONALS IN PILFERING MONEY FROM THEIR PARENTS, THOUGH THIS LAST TALENT WON'T TRANSLATE INTO COLLEGE CREDIT.
I'VE GOT A STATE QUARTER IN MY POCKET.....FLORIDA.........AND ON THE BACK OF THE COIN I FIND FLORIDA BECAME A STATE IN 1845......IT'S THE "GATEWAY TO DISCOVERY." THE MOST BEAUTIFUL IMAGES ARE ON THIS COIN; COUPLE OF PALM TREES ON A SWATH OF LAND, A SHUTTLE HIGH IN THE SKY, AND A SPANISH SHIP SEEMING TO MOVE THROUGH THE WATER. THAT'S JUST ONE STATE COIN EMBOSSED WITH SYMBOLIC DESIGN.
WHAT'S NEXT IN COLLECTING? DON'T KNOW...BUT I'M KIND OF HOPING TO HOLD ONTO MY MONEY. I THINK I HAVE JUSTIFIABLE REASON TO BELIEVE THE GOVERNMENT MAY TRY TO PRINT SPECIAL COLLECTOR'S EDITION 20-DOLLAR BILLS. ONLY PROBLEM I SEE FOR THE KIDS, THEIR PARENTS NO LONGER HAVE 20-DOLLAR BILLS FLOATING AROUND, NOT EVEN 10-DOLLAR BILLS OR 5-DOLLAR BILLS. TRULY WITH THE FINANCIAL TURMOIL, COLLECTING CASH OR COINS ISN'T SUCH A BRIGHT IDEA ANY MORE. BUT THEN AGAIN, I MAY JUST DROP BY MY DAD'S HOUSE AND CHECK HIS DRESSER FOR LOOSE CASH.....OR MY MOM'S PURSE. I REALLY NEVER HAD THE CHANCE TO BE A PROFESSIONAL IN NUMISMATICS.
MEMORY WALK
Walls of rain and wind pounded south Texas, but a thousand miles away from Hurricane Ike, a couple hundred people gathered at a Lake-in-the-Hills park to walk for Alzheimer’s. Despite the distance from Hurricane Ike, its influence on the Midwest that morning brought steady heavy rain. You’d think Sunset Park, where I would emcee the Memory Walk in Lake-in-the-Hills, would sparkle and shine, but the only things dazzling that morning were the smiles of the people ready to walk the drenched course.
People seemed to welcome the rain or maybe they ignored the conditions. They had to feel relief since they weren’t in Galveston, Texas, where most everything was under water. The hooded jackets the Memory Walkers wore and the umbrellas they carried were not the only things they had in common. They each had gathered checks from friends and family that hoped the Alzheimer’s Association could continue research into ending a disease that robs people of their memory and then claims their lives. By the morning of the Alzheimer’s Memory Walk in McHenry County, at least five inches of rain had already fallen and the paths of one-and-a-half and three miles had similar water obstacles. Under the pavilion, a state senator, a state representative, a local trustee, volunteers, sponsors, and walkers listened to my words of encouragement as emcee of the Memory Walk. This for me had been a long wet weekend that paled in comparison to those enduring the horrendous floods, but for my family, we didn’t do anything that didn’t somehow relate to the weather. As I took hold of the microphone, directing Memory Walkers to the start of the event, I thought back to a day earlier, in a Chicago suburb, where my family bailed out my brother-in-law, for his basement was flooding, water dripping down walls from a crack in the foundation.
This was a weekend of helping people, whether walking for Alzheimer’s or removing water from the basements of neighbors….a weekend I’ll not forget for how Mother Nature drew the best out of us in the worst conditions possible.
GPS TERROR
"TURN RIGHT," INSTRUCTS THE FEMALE VOICE, BARKING THE DEMAND FROM WITHIN A HARD PLASTIC BOX, SMALLER THAN AN ETCH-A-SKETCH.
THE THOUGHT OF USING GPS, GLOBAL POSITIONING SYSTEM'S TECHNOLOGY IN MY CAR HAD SCARED ME, NOT BECAUSE OF THE UNFRIENDLY VOICE, BUT BECAUSE I FELT A PUSH TOWARD BUYING INTO GPS, DESPITE MY TREPIDATION OF NEW TECHNOLOGY.
GPS IS NEW ENOUGH IN MY OPINION THAT I DID NOT REALLY SEE MYSELF READY TO ENTERTAIN THE THOUGHT OF HEARING A FEMALE VOICE BARKING ORDERS IN MY CAR. "TURN RIGHT, DUMMY. YOU DROVE PAST THE TURN, MAKE A U-TURN." I WORKED ON ANOTHER EXCUSE FOR KEEPING GPS OUT OF MY CAR. SQUINTING AT A TINY SCREEN MIGHT DISTRACT MY ATTENTION FROM MY HABIT OF LOOKING AT MY REAR VIEW MIRROR. I LIKED LOOKING INTO THE REAR VIEW MIRROR…ACTUALLY HAD MADE A HABIT OUT OF TRYING TO SEE WHAT’S GOING ON BEHIND ME, BUT MY FAMILY INSISTED I COULD BENEFIT FROM GPS. THEY DID NOT LIKE THE WAY I’D STUDY MAPS IN MY CAR; ONE HAND ON THE WHEEL, THE OTHER HAND FOLDING THE NON ESSENTIAL PARTS OF THE MAP, THEN PROPPING IT UP ACROSS THE STEERING WHEEL, TRYING TO READ THE SMALL PRINT.
MY WIFE AND OLDEST SON PUSHED FOR A GPS, SAYING THE TECHNOLOGY WOULD HELP US ON TRIPS. I THINK THEY WERE HINTING ABOUT USING GPS FOR A SPECIFIC TRIP TO SAN DIEGO FOR MY NEPHEW'S WEDDING. THEIR CONSTANT ATTENTION TO GPS BROUGHT ME TO WHERE I HADN’T BEEN…..I TOLD THEM I’M WILLING TO CONSIDER GPS, THOUGH I GOT THE DISTINCT IMPRESSION THE FAMILY DECIDED ALREADY ON GPS.
THE OLD DAYS OF MY WIFE AND I TRAVELING ON THE ROAD WITH A MAP TO SUCH PLACES AS COLORADO , CALIFORNIA , AND TEXAS , USING A MAP WOULD IN THE FUTURE BE SUPPLANTED BY A GPS SYSTEM ON THE DASH. BUT BEFORE I’D STEP FOOT IN A RADIO SHACK, I’D TELL MY KIDS STORIES OF HOW I'D MAP OUT THE NEXT ADVENTURE ON THE BED OF ANY HOTEL OR MOTEL WE STAYED THAT NIGHT. MAYBE I’D GARNER A VOTE FOR THE OLD WAY OF DOING THINGS. I JUST DIDN’T RELISH CHANGE FROM SOMETHING I KNEW HOW TO DO TO SOMETHING I DIDN’T. I COULD EASILY DETERMINE THE BEST WAY TO GO FROM POINT A TO POINT B, THE HOTEL TO THE NEXT DESTINATION. BUT MY NOSTALGIC TRIP RAN OUT OF GAS RATHER QUICKLY WITH THE BOYS. THEY WERE NOT SO WILLING TO HEAR DAD’S MAPPED OUT ADVENTURE STORIES AND REMINDED ME OF DEEP DISCOUNTS ON GPS SYSTEMS, THIS BEING THEIR CALL TO ACTION, IN OTHER WORDS, "GET OFF YOUR BUTT AND BUY A GPS SYSTEM ALREADY." THE YEARS OF RESPECTING THE MAP READER IN THE FAMILY WERE OVER…..A NEW DAY ARRIVED….AND THE KIDS CALLED IT…GPS..'GO PAY STEW.'
CREDIT CARDHOLDER PROTECTION
Following recent passage in the Financial Services Committee, the House passed, with Rep. Melissa Bean’s support, H.R. 5244, The Credit Cardholders’ Bill of Rights Act of 2008, which strengthens consumer protections with regulation of the credit card industry.
“In today’s credit crunch, home equity has diminished and families and small businesses are relying even more on credit cards to finance expenses,” Bean (IL-08) said. “Improving industry practices is crucial to protecting the credit ratings of American families and to maintaining the strength of our consumer-driven economy.”
According to the Federal Reserve, as of 2004, 71 percent of American families held a general purpose credit card. Forty-six percent of those Americans holding a card carry a monthly debt on that card, with an average balance of $2,100.
The Credit Cardholders’ Bill of Rights Act, strengthens regulation of the credit card industry with several measures, including: For card users with a good payment history, prohibiting arbitrary changes to interest rates that have nothing to do with a consumer’s payment history.
Requiring credit card companies to notify card users in advance of rate increases, giving them the option to cancel their card.
Requiring payments be allocated proportionally to balances that have different rates, so consumers have a chance to pay down their high-rate debt.
Ending “double cycle” billing so credit card companies can’t charge interest on debt consumers have already paid on time.
Protecting vulnerable consumers from fee-heavy subprime cards
The bill passed out of the Financial Services Committee with Bean’s support earlier this year. It passed the House today on a vote of 312-112 and now heads to the Senate.
SCHOOL DAYS
GRIP, GRIP, GRIP, GRIP, GRIP, GRIP ….A LEAKING SHOWER, THIS IS NOT.....I’M READING FROM THE WAL-MART RECEIPT OF SCHOOL SUPPLIES MY SON ASSURED ME HE NEEDED FOR HIS SOPHOMORE YEAR OF HIGH SCHOOL. THESE "GRIPS" ARE SIX 2-DOLLAR-27 CENT PEN OR PENCIL SETS HE THINKS HE’LL GO THROUGH IN A SCHOOL YEAR, OR MAYBE LESS TIME. AFTER HEARING THIS, I’D SWEAR I NEEDED TO GET A GRIP MORE THAN MY SON. THE CART WE WERE WHEELING AROUND THE STORE FILLED UP FASTER THAN THE CART MY WIFE HAS USED AT THE SUPERMARKET TO BUY FRESH MELONS, BANANAS, VEGETABLES AND MEAT.
A THOUGHT RACED THROUGH MY MIND SOMEWHERE BETWEEN AISLE ONE AND AISLE SIX AT WAL MART. I ASKED MY SON, “DO YOU REALLY NEED SO MANY PENCILS….OR PENS?....YOU DIDN’T WRITE MUCH LAST YEAR…SPENT MORE TIME ON THE COMPUTER DOING YOUR WRITING." IMADE SUCH A BIG DEAL BECAUSE I COULD PICTURE MY WIFE DRILLING ME LATER, REMINDING ME I’M THE ADULT; I SHOULD HAVE KNOWN BETTER THAN TO ALLOW A 15-YEAR-OLD TO DICTATE WHAT SCHOOL SUPPLIES HE’D NEED. THEN I REALIZED SOMETHING ELSE, WHERE WERE ALL THE GUYS, THE FATHERS IN WAL-MART? MOST OF THE AISLES WERE FILLED WITH WOMEN AND CHILDREN. FOR A GUY, THIS WASN’T SUCH A BAD VISUAL OF THE MOMS IN PARTICULAR, BUT I COULDN’T REMOVE THE ALTERNATE VISUAL OF MY WIFE SHAKING HER HEAD AT ALL THE STUFF WE’D BRING HOME FROM WAL-MART, STUFF SHE’D SURELY SAY MORE THAN DUPLICATED WHAT WAS NECESSARY FOR OUR SON TO FINISH ALL HIS ASSIGNMENTS AND LAND ON THE HIGH HONOR ROLL. “DO YOU NEED SO MANY ZIP POUCHES, THEMEBOOKS, NOTEBOOKS, LEAD REFILLS, MAGIC TAPE?” SO MUCH STUFF LANDED IN THE CART, I DIDN’T KNOW WHETHER HE HIRED A COUPLE OF FIVE YEAR OLDS TO TOSS IN EVERYTHING THEY SAW ON THE LOWER SHELVES. . THEN WE FINISHED. NO MORE STUFF FLYING OFF THE SHELVES.... NO MORE STUFF!!!! I FELT RELIEF, ALBIET ONLY BRIEFLY…..A PACK OF GUM LANDED IN THE CART…..THEN HE WAS DONE.....I COULD TELL.......HE WAS CHECKING THE CHECKOUT….AND FOUND ONE THAT SEEMED MORE OF AN EXPRESS LINE; A MOM AND HER TODDLER; A WOMAN AND HER YOUNG DAUGHTER AND A DISTRAUGHT GUY, WAIT, THAT'S HOW I SAW MYSELF. OTHER CHECKOUTS HAD INCREDIBLE LINES OF SHOPPERS, SEEMED EVERY WOMAN WITH A KID HIT THE STORE ON THIS DAY AND THEY BOUGHT NEARLY EVERYTHING THEIR KIDS SAW.
I HAD SET ALL THE PENS, ZIP POUCHES, GRIPS, INDEX CARDS AND NOTEBOOKS FROM THE CART ONTO THE CHECKOUT COUNTER, BUT JUST THEN THE TODDLER IN A CART SEAT TWO CUSTOMERS AHEAD OF ME LET GO OF HIS GLASS BOTTLE OF CHOCOLATE MILK…AND THE BOTTLE FELL TO THE GROUND AND SHATTERED.....MILK AND GLASS MIXING, SO BEFORE I COULD EVEN SAY SOMETHING TO MY SON, HE’D ALREADY GRABBED ALL HIS SCHOOL SUPPLIES FROM THE COUNTER AND PUT THEM BACK IN THE CART…AND I HAD TO HUSTLE TO CATCH HIM, HE WAS WHEELING HIS WAY OVER TO ANOTHER CHECKOUT. THAT'S WHEN I LEARNED THE COST OF THIS SCHOOL SUPPLY SPREE.......THE BILL MAXED OUT AT 105-DOLLARS, NOT SUCH A BARGAIN. I WAS CERTAINLY APPAULED....HOW COULD WE SPEND SO MUCH?.....BUT I SOUGHT OUT OTHER OPINIONS, YOU SEE I HAD TO KNOW BECAUSE LEARNING ABOUT PRICES OTHERS PAID FOR SCHOOL SUPPLIES MIGHT GIVE ME A LITTLE DEFENSE LATER ON . I FOUND OUT THE TRUTH FROM SEVERAL FEMALE CO-WORKERS, ALL VETERANS OF THIS BACK-TO-SCHOOL SHOPPING EXPERIENCE. THEY REGAILED ME WITH STORIES OF HOW THEY SPENT FAR MORE FOR SUPPLIES THAN I DID ON THIS DAY. FELT LIKE A NEW MAN......I'D HAVE A DOZEN WOMEN ON MY SIDE....BUT AS USUAL, I ALSO FELT SLIGHTLY GUILTY FOR HOW I PINNED MY SON'S EARS BACK WITH MY NON STOP ASSAULT......"WE'RE SPENDING TOO MUCH.....TOO MANY PENCILS.....NOTEBOOKS.....STUFF..... SEEMS YOU ARE TRYING TO SUPPLY THE ENTIRE SOPHOMORE CLASS." I THEN CONCLUDED MY ARGUMENT, WITH A BIT OF A CONCESSIONARY POINT TO MY SON..... I RELUCTANTLY ADMITTED " YOU ARE RIGHT SON, THE DAYS OF ONE BOTTLE OF ELMER’S GLUE, A COUPLE OF NUMBER 2 PENCILS, A WOOD RULER AND A COUPLE OF NOTEBOOKS WAS COMMON WHEN I WAS IN SCHOOL WHEN DINOSAURS ROAMED THE EARTH...AND YES, THE TIMES HAVE CHANGED."
PAGEANT
A CORNSTALK LEAF POKED ME IN THE EAR ON OPENING NIGHT OF THE MCHENRY COUNTY FAIR AS I POSITIONED MYSELF ON THE STEPS OF THE GRANDSTAND STAGE, INTRODUCING THE 18 CANDIDATES FOR MCHENRY COUNTY QUEEN.
IN THEIR SETUP , A COUNTY FAIR CREW HAD THE IDEA OF DECORATING EACH OF THE SUPPORT POLES ON THE PAGEANT STAGE WITH CORNSTALKS. THIS THEY BELIEVED GAVE THE PAGEANT AN “OUT IN THE COUNTRY” OR “ON THE FARM” LOOK. HOLDING THE PAGEANT'S BLACK NOTEBOOK, I READ DETAILS ON THE PAGEANT CANDIDATES, LIFTING MY HEAD EVERY ONCE IN A WHILE FOR EYE CONTACT WITH THE CONTESTANTS... YET THESE CORNSTALK LEAVES KEPT POKING AWAY, HITTING ME IN THE HEAD, ON MY SHOULDER, IN MY EAR, ON MY NECK……ALMOST TO THE POINT, I WAS STARTING TO FEAR PEOPLE MIGHT SEE AN “OUT OF MY MIND” LOOK. I WANTED TO TURN TO MY SIDE AND RIP THESE CORNSTALKS FROM THE POLES OF THE WOODEN STRUCTURE HOLDING THE STAGE TOGETHER.
THIS IS THE “need to be told” STORY OF A PHOTO IN THE DAILY HERALD DEPICTING THE QUEEN PAGEANT STAGE, WHERE I’M ON THE FAR END WEARING A BLACK TUXEDO WITH A RED VEST FROM GIPPER FORMALWEAR, A LOCAL TUXEDO SHOP AND I’M FEELING THE INTENSE HEAT OF SUMMER, AND TRYING TO KEEP MY BALANCE ON THE STEPS, AND AVOID A GOOD POKING FROM THE CORNSTALKS. LIKELY HUNDREDS OF PEOPLE IN THE GRANDSTANDS SAW ME MOVE FAIRLY SMOOTHLY THROUGH THE PROGRAM…BUT HOW WEARING A TUX DECEIVES AND GETTING POKED IN THE EAR ANNOYS……ATTEMPTING JOKES HERE AND THERE, I STRAINED TO PRONOUNCE THE NAMES OF THE LADIES WITHOUT FLUBBING, AND HOPED NOT TO PASS OUT FROM THE HEAT AND LAND ON THE DIRT BELOW THE STAGE.
THESE OBSERVATIONS OF THE PAGEANT SHOULD NOT DIMINISH THE QUALITY OF THE WORK DONE BY THE PAGEANT COMMITTEE. THEY ARE AN EXCEPTIONAL GROUP. COORDINATING ALL THE ASPECTS OF THE PAGEANT IS AN INCREDIBLE TASK, I’M JUST A VERY SMALL PART OF IT ALL. YOU CAN SEE PORTIONS OF THE PAGEANT THROUGH www.mchenrycountyfair.com
HOME BEFORE DARK
Four butt buzzings set a new record for a concert. Neil Diamond beat Paul McCartney, the former Beatle earned three butt buzzings for his latest concert at the United Center . I know you don't have a clue what a "butt buzzing" is, so I'll clear the air and tell you. My teenage son, Brenden, calls me on my cell phone, which I've placed in my back pocket in my jeans. I've left my phone on vibrate and although I know we're not supposed to let anyone hear snippets of concert, I had to give my son a taste of Neil Diamond or Paul McCartney or any other great performer at the outstanding venues like United Center or Allstate Arena. Brenden would hear McCartney or Diamond for 20 or 30 seconds, then my son would hang up....and if he liked what he heard, he'd call me back and we'd do the same thing again, thus the three or four butt buzzings, but I'm not here to go into a drawn out discussion of my slightly askew method of music review, I'd like to give you my insight into the whole Neil Diamond experience of July 26, 2008 at the United Center.
My wife, Rita, bought 55-dollar tickets apiece for Neil Diamond. Fifty-five-dollars is the low end, one-hundred-18 dollars is the high end for a ticket, but she wasn’t a high end spender, though she has a tremendous appreciation for Mr. Diamond’s music. Add to the ticket price, the cost of parking and you, Neil Diamond "got to me, you brought me to my knees."
Usually just on time for most events, Rita and I realized we were early by an hour. We went to find our seats and saw hardly anyone inside, then I looked at one of our tickets and realized the 7 o’clock concert start time she had mentioned a few times was actually the time both the parking lot and United Center opened. Neil Diamond wouldn’t walk onto the stage until 8 o’clock. What do you do with a whole 60-minutes to kill and you don’t want to spend heavy sums of money on the food at the various booths at the United Center ? Since Rita was thirsty, she caved in, because the water fountains lacked water pressure. We first checked a half dozen snack areas and all the bottles of water cost 4-dollars apiece, so she gave one of the less bored snack operators enough money for a bottle of water. We found one of those high tables without chairs and leaned over reading the 20-dollar Neil Diamond program of color photos and profound thoughts of his. What was to happen in the next moment changed our whole experience of Neil Diamond’s concert, "Home Before Dark."
I noticed right away a man walking toward our table. He was dressed in a blue sporty shirt, conservative clothes, and I looked down at the program we’d bought so as not to stare at the guy, but he kept on coming, until he reached us and he began to talk. I was a bit nervous and heard a little of what he said first off. Something about he had two tickets that his daughter and son could not use because they could not come tonight to the concert. Some more words were said, but I was already stunned as was Rita, as she said later. He then said these are main floor seats and I had in the back of my mind, because I am a reporter, that something must be wrong with this scene, maybe he was looking for money or maybe the tickets were counterfeit, but I thrust a thank you at him, nonetheless…as my wife asked repeatedly after he had walked away, did you thank him? Yes, I said over and over. I finally put these new tickets in my hand and I noticed the price, hard not to notice. Each ticket cost 120-dollars. I suggested we go and find these main floor seats because we were on the third level and this may take awhile. Couldn’t actually find the way out of the third level without asking for assistance, and so happened there was an access door to the lower levels, and down we went, cement steps to the first level, and back to the entrance at Gate 3. We were told the seats were way on the other side of the United Center , so we were lucky to get permission to cross the main floor and end up on the other side where Gate 7 was located. We were in Section 4 and so Rita and I found our new seats about 20 rows in front of the stage. I turned around and looked back, cranked my head up and squinted to see those 55-dollar a ticket seats as far away from the stage as one could sit without being in another zip code.
Rita has seen Neil Diamond several times in concert as he’s her favorite performer..so perhaps this "pay it forward" kindness of the man in blue was providential. A year ago this week her step father passed away. Maybe the gift was somehow directed spiritually, I don’t really know, and probably can’t possibly tell for sure….but whatever directed this man to give us those tickets while thousands of other people converged on the United Center, we are very thankful. Truly this past Saturday, we got to sit very close to a pretty amazing man ….."Pretty amazing….pretty amazing…..You overcame my loss of hope and faith , Gave me a truth I could believe in, You led me to that higher place, Showed me that love, and truth, and hope, and grace, Were all I needed"….PRETTY AMAZING GRACE-by Neil Diamond.
SANDLOT BASEBALL
Joe said “Let’s get a game going.” I know my best friend did not mean anything other than a game of sandlot baseball at a park a couple blocks away from our homes. Joe and I lived in a north suburb of Chicago , where boys played unsupervised baseball or softball every summer. We did not have personal computers back then, or any of the other high tech stuff the kids play with now. We didn’t spend any time with video games; no such games existed to wile away our summers. If we weren’t at home watching an afternoon Cubs game on tv, then a bunch of guys gathered together to play ball and talk about school and girls. No coaches told us how to bat or where to play and we felt a freedom that would only exist in this short span of time; a few summers stretching from elementary school to high school.
I’m told we’re losing sandlot baseball as a pastime for boys. The structured sports, video games and fear of crime have taken away from a piece of Americana . Too bad this is another piece chipped away from kids, who will look back someday and see they spent way too much of their time on video games and never really got the chance to just be kids….running around….policing themselves…..playing games that demanded a bit of energy and the outdoors. I can’t tell how quickly the boys gathered once Joe got it in his head to “play ball.” But the kids came from every direction to our park, some with bats, others with balls, and everyone carried a mitt. We’d make up teams, agree on 9 innings, and have to hit the ball; no one would strike out. I liked this more than organized baseball that I played for several years and I liked this more than root beer floats and chocolate milk shakes.
Some of the guys I still talk to so many years later. One guy, Dave, became a financial analyst, another became a science writer, and another a lawyer for a giant utility. They were the guys I played in this little park where we had a water fountain built of brick and metal and a small playground where kids had to climb this funny looking elephant with a slide for a trunk. The park was surrounded with a fence so none of the balls would end up rolling in the street. Today, the park where we thought freely and lied in the grass waiting for our turn to bat or take the field, is just a place for swinging on a swing or practicing your set shot on half court, or for climbing the monkey bars. The field is gone….and sandlot ball is just a memory today….a memory I bet a lot of guys in their 40s, 50s and 60s don’t take lightly in their lives. Sandlot ball maybe gone from our summers, but I would give almost anything for one more at bat…..one more chance to lie on the ground squinting up at the sun just off the field and hear the guys around me talking about girls and their summer plans.
PESKY FOURTH
A little boy and his sister raced each other for fireflies in a small landscaped flower garden. “The boy just caught another,” I told my wife, Rita, sitting next to me on the front step at Park National Bank on Route 14 in Crystal Lake. This was the night of the fireworks show at Lippold Park, about three miles from the bank, but already two people were not very interested in a sky show, they were wrapped up in their own “natural” light show.
The kids weren’t free of adult supervision for more than it took the bank’s parking lot to fill with cars; about 30 minutes from the time the first car showed to the last in the lot. Then drivers started parking along the cornfield that abuts the bank and by the outdoor teller windows. I think the children’s mother grew concerned that heavy traffic in the small lot might get in the way of her kids talent for entomology, so she rushed over to warn them not to trample the yellow flowers. I could see they weren’t damaging the landscape, they were merely snatching fireflies, and putting those “lightning bugs” in their pockets. The light show these children provided seemed an apropos side show to the main event, the “Annual Fireworks Display.”
This year the fireworks switched from its extremely popular spot at Main Beach in Crystal Lake to Lippold Park in accordance with the Crystal Lake Gala at Lippold off of Route 176. Our nation’s Fourth of July celebration would give us the usual tingle, but a day later, on July 5 at the biggest park in Crystal Lake. Before Rita and I found ourselves parked at the bank, we planned on leaving our car at Crystal Lake South High School and boarding a shuttle bus to Lippold. The planners of the Independence celebration had this great idea of shuttling as many people as possible from either CL. South or McHenry County College or the Holiday Inn in CL to Lippold. Since we’re close to South, we thought the idea of parking the car there and taking the shuttle was great. However, my two sons, wife and I arrived after 7 in the evening; kind of a late start because we weren’t sure which blankets, pillows, flashlights, and drinks to bring. We walked to the back of this very long line on the sidewalk near the entrance to South, but strangely, we moved up, first by a step or two as some people in line left. They couldn’t wait any longer for the bus. That’s okay, I said because we’re moving up….and in a few minutes, we were close to the front of the line, which on the surface was ideal, but I had to face the possibility, we’d join those leaving if the bus didn’t arrive within the next 15-minutes, because we’d been there 20-minutes already. Finally, someone shouted, “the bus is here!!!!”….and we grabbed stuff we had set on the ground and we watched as this yellow district 47/155 school bus rolled past us to the very back of the line where the latest arriving had been there for no more than five minutes. I think the initial reaction was shock from those in line the longest. But in a moment, dozens of people from the front of the line with their chairs held tight stampeded…and I thought that type of reaction was only possible if the bus driver had shouted “I’ve got your economic stimulus check here.”
My sons made it onto the bus, Brenden yelled for Rita and I to get on…push if you have to….but get on, he implied. No, we were not pushing or panicking, just facing the reality of separation from our kids on one of the most important events of the year. The people like us, “failures to board”, got into our cars and drove off. On the way to Lippold, we found our journey blocked at the intersection of Routes 14 and 176, a Crystal Lake Police squad car stopped any traffic from using the road to enter Lippold. Traffic was already backed up more than on a Saturday in town. So we began our journey north on Route 14, seeing dozens of people parked at strip malls and other people walking along the busy Route 14, even people walking across a farmer’s fields to reach Lippold. We reached McHenry County College, another site for the shuttle, but we couldn’t find any SHUTTLE HERE sign. Didn’t realize the shuttle was for the other side of MCC….but then again, we did see people camped out in the MCC parking lot and talked to a few that hoped to catch a glimpse at least of the fireworks from this fairly great distance. They’d probably only see a small portion of the fireworks. We worked our way in the car to the back side of the college and then on Ridgefield Road and over into the parking lot of Park National Bank. The bank’s lot was fairly well lit, good for keeping police patrols with a clear picture of any trouble, but not so good for the fireworks challenged because the bugs were celebrating too; each bite on my arm or my wife’s leg, or the other guy nearby with the red, white and blue shirt. Brenden called from Lippold, “where are you dad?” I thought I’d tell him that maybe we’d ventured into Twilight Zone, but then, he couldn’t possibly know our fireworks fate or even understand the reference. So I said, “it is a bit buggy here, but the light show has my full attention.” I left it at that. The boy and his sister got a few more lightning bugs before they went home.
America’s Cardboard Cup Regatta
“I wish I were an Oscar Meyer wiener …..” Todd Collins of DeKalb sings the well-known jingle from his cardboard boat, floating on choppy waters of Crystal Lake. The 24th Annual America’s Cardboard Cup Regatta attracted Collins and his friends and their offbeat sense of style, deciding next year to build a cardboard salad bowl or a cardboard ice cream truck. I met Collins and dozens of other creative cardboard boat builders on the beach at Crystal Lake for the event that attracts hundreds of people a year and brings thousands of dollars to charity organizations in the northwest suburbs.
First of course, I had to work my way to the finish line, where over the years, I’ve interviewed the builders of a Star Wars boat, a whale, a truck, pirate ships, tanks, and anything and everything that could potentially float at least long enough for a spectacular sinking. They told me of the cold water and bragged of their unsinkable boat and how they knew they’d finish. Some of the Cup contestants wore unusual costumes, looked like pigs sometimes, or pirates, or just wore bathing suits and life jackets. They’d tell of buying dozens of rolls of duct tape, of working three weeks steady in their friend’s garage building the cardboard shape, taping it together, painting it, and lugging the finished boat to Main Beach for the regatta. With recorder and microphone, I positioned myself at the finish line, usually in front of the throng of people watching. The crew of the green Tank must have realized the cardboard had taken on water about half way to the finish and they lumbered, rowing as best they could, the four young guys pushing water away from the tank from their perched positions on the sides of the tank, and slowly but steadily, they ran out of water, reaching the shore, exhausted, but excited, only to try and pick up the extremely heavy tank. Instead, each tore at the tank like they were tearing lettuce for a salad until the tank was nothing more than wet cardboard. They disposed the sheets of cardboard in the already filling dumpster. The dumpster held secrets of cardboard building, but mostly secrets of unsuccessful cardboard design. Yet some of the successful designs lay next to the dumpster, that of the Weinermobile and kids seemed to take to it, by walking inside what now was a soggy hot dog shell. Only problem, looked like nails protruding from the sides of the dog. I stayed clear and eventually finished taping the participants with the unusual boats, ending with Mike Bowers, a local guy that couldn’t seem to catch his breath after finishing . His boat resembled an old railway car…that you have to push a bar up and down, over and over. This was his design, so he got stuck working it to death , almost.
America’s Cardboard Cup Regatta……..a slice of creativity for all to see at Main Beach in Crystal Lake.
Golf Cart Parade
I’m not so reluctant, thought I’d be, but on my visits to Del Webb, the active retirement community in Huntley, I’ve found the reason why I’m no longer concerned of my slide into seniorhood. I’ve discovered the GOLF CART, what a way to go!!!! On my visits to my parents’ home in Del Webb, I’ll occasionally find motoring along quietly on the main drag, a guy in a golf cart, driving somewhere. I’m usually driving in the other direction, otherwise, I’d follow him and see where he’s headed. This past weekend was a smorgasbord of golf carts, a parade up and down Del Webb Boulevard. I dropped off my sons, and wife, where my parents were sitting, in a sheltered area, the only shelter Del Webb has off the boulevard. There they sat with Grandma and Grandpa Cohen and waited for candy and the excitement of seeing dozens of fancy decorated golf carts. The threat of rain persisted, but didn’t scare anyone enough to hold an umbrella, except I had a big Del Webb umbrella and there were women, each with a babushka ready to protect their silverly hair from the rain. My kids, always anticipating a chocolate candy or a sucker, walked out in the middle medium and got closer to the action from the other side of the boulevard, packing the pockets of their shorts with tootsie rolls, until they almost couldn’t hold their pants up. The adults sat back watching the energy of the kids racing toward the sweet treats, though my dad, Sid Cohen, a young man in his 80s, had to position himself for a good look at the carts, waiving at some of his friends in their carts. He noticeably held back a wave as the Green Bay Packers golf cart wheeled by, but got excited over the clown cart or the musical cart. I just got into the thing and all of a sudden, the sky let loose of a thousand buckets of icy water….on our heads…….yet, I minimized the damage to my hair by popping open my giant umbrella, pushing it over my dad’s head…and then I looked down and he was looking down, and we saw what used to be a beautiful landscaped area now looking like mud and flowers….and he was reluctant to step over…or maybe he physically couldn’t because it was more of a jump than a step….but I encouraged him because this was the fastest way to get over to the only covering we had, and so dad brought his leg up, and pushed himself over the flowers and the mud and back onto the sidewalk. Though I regretted missing a portion of the golf cart parade, I felt a moment of bonding with dad, holding my umbrella over his head, keeping my 84 year old dad dry so he could use all the energy he had to push or jump over this hurdle to safety. In the few seconds this took, I wondered whether my kids would be in a position to have me in 30 years do something physical…… Before the golf cart parade started, the only thing I thought I’d learn was that seniors seem to have a lot of time on their hands to decorate their golf carts….but what I actually learned was when pushed….even the guys in their 80s can turn the clock back for a few moments and do something physical they’ve not done in 30 or 40 years and I learned this watching a golf cart parade.
A DAD IS FOREVER
Maybe because Father’s Day has arrived I internalized the day in my mind. Don’t dads think about this day? This is my day and their day. I’ve got two sons and they call me "dad" and I’m good with it because I am their dad, their father, their pop, and their old man. My older son calls me dad and I generally think he wants something from me, and it’s usually money, but could be that he wants to have his friends stay overnight at our house, or he’d like to remind me that he’s of driving age. My younger son calls me dad and I think it’s a conditioned reflex in addressing me. He’s heard it so often from his older brother that I can’t imagine he puts anything into it beyond just saying dad. Did I earn the honor of being their dad because I don’t believe a man should be this dad unless he has earned the designation…and what qualifies him to be dad? I’d say a dad is someone that is around them, answering their questions, spending time playing with them, helping them with homework, giving insight into dating or relationships or how to do something that’s important at the moment. Because I have boys, most of these things are geared toward them, but dads are just as important for their daughters. They learn a lot about guys through their dad…and that’s a great thing. Dad can show his daughter she deserves respect both mentally and physically. He can be there to help with homework, to make sure the boy she dates will get her home on time, to play ball with her, to give her jobs to do around the house and outside the house. I read that too many dads are not there for their kids, maybe the dads are too busy at work or the parents are divorced and the dad isn’t around, maybe the dad thinks it doesn’t matter how much time or energy he gives to his kids. But this does matter…..on Father’s Day, I have to look inward to what I’ve done to deserve to hear my kids say dad, can you come over here…I want to tell you something. I don’t pretend I’m perfect, I might say to them that I’m kind of busy and can this wait? Or I might ask them to tell me right away what they want. I know this attitude doesn’t lend itself to becoming popular, but I’m doing the best I can…and I know that over a period of time….I will have performed duties that I believe makes me feel that I should be called DAD…..and I’m grateful my kids seem to have the patience with me…whether I’m angry with them over something or whether I am not always fair. They seem to understand given all the things that are on my plate, that they are comfortable calling me dad….and I shall do all that’s possible to continue living up to what a dad should be….so someday as they are men themselves they can still call me dad…and it will fit forever.
LEGIONNAIRES' DISEASE
McHenry County Department of Health (MCDH) reports two individuals * one local, one from Michigan * have been diagnosed with Legionnaires' disease after staying at the Hampton Inn in McHenry, Illinois. Initial information would suggest the illness may be associated with using or sitting by a hot tub at this facility on the same day. Both were hospitalized; one has since been released. The Illinois Department of Public Health (IDPH), who licenses and inspects this facility's pool and hot tub, is leading the investigation and has since closed the pool and hot tub area to reduce the risk to patrons. The hotel is cooperating fully in this investigation.
Legionnaires' disease is caused by a type of bacteria commonly found in the environment and can thrive under certain conditions. People can get Legionnaires' by breathing in a mist or vapor (i.e. from a hot tub, hot water tanks, large plumbing systems) that has been contaminated with the bacteria; it is not spread person-to-person. McHenry County typically sees one or two cases of Legionnaires' disease every year.
Symptoms are similar to pneumonia and typically begin 2 to 14 days after exposure and include high fever, chills, cough, muscle aches and headaches. Chest x-rays are needed to confirm pneumonia; additional tests are needed to confirm the Legionella bacteria. Legionnaires' disease can be very serious and can cause death in 5%-30% of cases. Persons most at risk include those over age 65, smokers and those with chronic lung disease. Most cases can be treated successfully with antibiotics.
It has not been determined how many people stayed at the hotel and used the hot tub from May 9 * June 4. MCDH has activated its hotline number (815-334-2800) for residents to call Saturday and Sunday 9am-1pm; additional information will be provided on its website (www.mcdh.info).
WIDE WORLD OF SPORTS
The ‘agony of defeat’ stands alone as an immediately definable phrase, incomplete in its description, but clearly memorable for those of my age range. The full phrase includes “the thrill of victory and the agony of defeat.” If it weren’t for Jim McKay narrating this recognizable phrase every week on ABC’S “Wide World of Sports” and the video of a ski jumper tumbling down a ski hill, I could have sworn this was the agony of the feet. Jim McKay meant more to me than agony of the feet, he was The Sports Voice that I thought more than any other national broadcaster of the 1970s gave life to sports and more than anything, kept me riveted to the television set during the 1972 Munich Olympics. This was the Olympics where eleven Israeli athletes were killed by terrorists. McKay’s coverage of this singular horror was professionalism at its core. His ability to describe a situation and use of words were so substantial that I wished every single broadcaster could do the same. After watching him talk about all the Olympic sports, I wanted to go outside and do that same sport, whether it was the Decathlon or the high jump. Something he said about the competition just got the juices flowing and the executives in television recognized how he could add to the dramatics of an event to hold an audience. I write about Jim McKay because he’s passed away, 86 years of life for this man. He died on his farm in Monkton, Maryland, and I could almost hear an announcer say the man that brought us The Thrill of Victory and The Agony of Defeat was on his way to see the greatest of the Olympians who’ve been waiting for the greatest Olympic announcer of them all to watch them and describe their contests for all time in heaven. Spanning the Globe, as Jim McKay would say to bring you the Wide World of Sports, I’m Stew Cohen and I’ve been Spanning the Globe to bring you my Stew’s Page.
LIFE FROM THE GRANDSTAND
Family Day at a theme park, family day at a baseball game, family day at the race track? What are we trying to do, teach the kids to bet on horses? That was the question I put in my head after my wife said she won tickets to Family Day at Arlington International Racecourse for June 1st. Certainly I couldn’t wait to go and see horse racing and win thousands of dollars. I dreamed of the big pay day and had enough money in my pocket, 80-dollars to assure the possibility of becoming rich beyond my wife’s dreams. But what of the kids, my sons, one not yet a teenager and the other looking for money to buy his first car and pay his auto insurance, no wait, that’s what I’ve said he must be able to do to drive. He’d just like to buy a gently used car and have me pay for his gasoline and car insurance. I was told the racecourse had things for kids to do. What would that be, face painting, arts and crafts? The Daily Racing Guide, bought inside the Clubhouse for a couple of dollars promoted the Sunday event, Pepsi Family Day presented by the Daily Herald. The guide says “All this plus pony rides, face painters and a petting zoo.” So I was right, face painting was offered to the kids. I should have won a bet, would have been one of the few on this day for me. The kids took their friend, another pre-teen, whom they thought would probably bring some of his own money they might borrow if he won a race or two. Why didn’t we go to Arlington the following weekend, I could have brought home a beach towel from the racetrack or the next day, Father’s Day and be treated to what they described as an exciting day of live thoroughbred racing. Maybe the kids would spot me 100-dollars. But on this Family Day at the Racetrack, my wife and I would do our best to make this an educational experience for the kids. I’d have to do my best to avoid being a messy better; no swearing at losing money, no waving around dollars won at the track, no making it look like I was hooked on gambling. This was a clean gambling image I’d project no matter how much I won or lost….and I won early and then lost, and lost, and lost….and my oldest son wondered whether I had exhausted all the money I’d won…. If not, he wanted to ‘borrow’ 10-dollars he could use to gamble. This was indeed a time of great lesson learning, similar I think to the sex education lecture or the driving sober lesson I’ve waited patiently to explain to him. We of course had things to do on this day; eat popcorn, hotdogs, and ice cream and drink pop, and put all the costs on our Visa card tab, a tab that grew larger than any possible track winnings except maybe for the 50-to 1 shot in the 10th race on Bubba Boy. I lost the bet though. By the end of the day 6:30pm, a full day at the track, we were tired, and nearly poor except for my sons’ friend, he won 50-dollars. We missed out on the jockeys goggles. They gave out their goggles for a lucky kid waiting for this tremendously thrilling present and did this at the end of every race. My sons weren’t lucky with the goggles or the races, though they did enjoy the escalator and brief conversations with the track tellers, particularly one guy that seemed to like the boys. Other tellers resembled the closest thing to death standing I had seen in a while. They just weren’t excited, though I can imagine how one might be brain dead taking those 2-dollar bets over and over for hour after hour. Our experience on Family Day at the Racecourse was a sure bet, you know…a sure bet in which the boys learned they sure don’t like to part with their money.
Editor's note: Arlington International Racecourse is a beautiful facility from the landscaping to the quality of its people and architecture. Much of this piece is kind of tongue in cheek.
LIFE SPRINGS ETERNAL
Honoring and remembering our fallen soldiers takes precedence on this and every Memorial Day Holiday weekend. I’m aware of the significance, my dad fought in World War Two and my grandfather was in the cavalry in World War One, and my father-in-law was in the Korean War and Vietnam War. Although I pause to reflect on their sacrifices and thank God for their return to us, I also recognize this is a time to celebrate life. This is spring and it’s a wonderful time for enjoying our little piece of the world, thanks in no small part to the men and women that fought to protect our freedom. Since this was a long weekend, we typically take advantage of the time off from work, planting flowers in our yard for a colorful backyard canvas, preparing for the long summer season ahead. A little cooperative weather and look out, thousands of people get the same idea, hanging out at the local garden center, buying flowers, mulch and dirt worth hundreds of dollars. We were typical, buying impatiens, geraniums, spikes, vinca, a hanging basket, bags of top soil, compost, and mulch. The bill for flowers alone cost more than 200-dollars from one of the high quality garden shops. But for the rest of the supplies, we chose one of the less expensive outdoor stores, thinking we’d save a bit on such items as top soil. I mean, dirt is dirt, right? The dirt can be a higher quality and a little more expensive for planting in pots or for vegetables, but generally is fairly inexpensive, and in the case of this particular large box store, a 40 pound bag of soil cost just over one dollar a bag. My wife and I were grateful for the likely savings at the checkout counter. The store was jammed with people buying a little of everything they saw, annuals and perennials. Nothing stayed long on the shelves. A good hour in the store, up and down every aisle where we weren’t impeded by someone’s cart and we were through picking out what we needed to complete the look we desired for our yard this summer. On to the checkout, however the lines were very long there. Yet to our amazement, a clerk had positioned herself in a mobile checkout next to one of the long lines. Such a wonderful idea, having someone go through all the stuff, easing the clerk’s job and moving forward the line. The mobile clerk used her checkout gun, but suddenly called over a manager because the gun was firing blanks, just not registering the products fast enough. So there they stood, near us, looking slightly puzzled, ordering another of these mobile carts. But before one could arrive from one of the storage sites on the grounds, the clerk handed me a fancy looking card, saying the prices of your items were on this card and I should present it to the clerk at the register.This was fairly exciting stuff, having a card with all our purchases and we would not have to take up any more time from the clerk or the growing line behind us. I handed the card to the clerk and she inserted it in the register, and it spouted out a figure. She said we had to pay 199-dollars. I mumbled, “that is a bit more than we thought. Did we have 199 dollars worth of stuff? My wife, never one for beating around the bush, told the clerk that we clearly didn’t spend 199-dollars. She asked the clerk to look at our cart…and said we were also buying ten bags of topsoil and 5 bags of Cyprus mulch, but the combined total of those bags wouldn’t be more than 20-dollars. The clerk reluctantly went item by item over our buys, and I did some figuring in my head, adding one dollar per item over the cost and I reached a conservative 120-dollars, the clerk finally read off what she had for us at 109-dollars, not the 199 dollars we were told to pay earlier, a 90-dollar savings in a matter of minutes. The clerk leaned over to me, and I looked at her and then at the waiting herd and she asked whether I was willing to pay that amount? I said I was as long as this is the correct amount. I mean come on, just get the price right, that’s all we ask. We’re not going to war with the clerk. We wheeled our flowers, dirt and mulch back to the car, happy we could save a few bucks.
WHAT KIND OF DRIVER ARE YOU?
You may find this a very interesting survey...."The Driver's Seat Road Rage Survey", the third annual commissioned by AutoVantage. The organization is a national auto club. The survey finds Miami as the least courteous city in the country. Other discourteous cities are Boston and New York in that order. Miami is familiar with the top position, this being the third year in a row as the Road Rage capitol of the country. The most courteous city is Pittsburgh. Chicago wasn't most courteous or least. Among the road rage triggers released in the AutoVantage Road Rage Survey, drivers on cell phones, eating, drinking , emailing and texting.
Here are the lists:
The survey's best and worst cities are:
Least Courteous Cities (Worst Road Rage):
2008
1. Miami
2. Boston
3. New York
4. Baltimore
5. Washington, D.C.
Want to know how you rate? Check your road rage temperature by taking the AutoVantage online survey at http://www.gaugemyrage.com.
MANZULLO'S FUEL PLAN
Congressman Don Manzullo (R-Egan) has unveiled his comprehensive gas price relief plan that aims to eliminate America’s dependence on costly foreign oil while promoting alternative energies and conservation at home.
The 12-point plan, a compilation of years of legislative and administrative proposals, uses short and long-term strategies to give the United States more control over its own fuel needs. (This report is from the congressman's office, in his own words.)-Editor
“There is not one easy way to reduce our gas prices. We must make many changes in policy and practice to take control of our fuel needs,” Manzullo said. “My 12-point plan brings together short and long-term strategies that promote alternative energies and conservation while eliminating our dependence on costly foreign oil. It is a comprehensive plan that would make our nation stronger, increase our energy supplies, and lower gas prices in America.”
Congressman Manzullo’s 12-point plan includes legislative and regulatory proposals to:
· Eliminate federal mandate for expensive “boutique fuels” in Illinois during summer months.
· Stop filling America’s Strategic Petroleum Reserve.
· Reduce exorbitant taxes on gasoline and diesel fuel in Illinois.
· Encourage motorists to conserve fuel and save money by increasing their driving efficiencies.
· Provide tax incentives to encourage motorists to purchase more fuel-efficient vehicles.
· Avoid tax increases on oil and gas that will be passed on to motorists.
· Scrutinize earnings and profits of oil companies and prosecute price gouging when it exists.
· Withhold assistance to OPEC countries that fail to support reasonable oil production.
· Allow more domestic exploration and development of oil and gas.
· Encourage the continued development and production of alternative and renewable fuels.
· Encourage the continued development and production of alternative vehicles.
· Provide incentives to encourage the development of new refineries in the United States.
A more complete description of the entire 12-point plan is attached.
(END)
CONGRESSMAN DON MANZULLO’S 12-POINT PLAN
TO REDUCE SURGING GASOLINE PRICES IN AMERICA
“Gasoline prices are at record high levels primarily because of a huge increase in the worldwide demand for oil, and the foreign oil producers’ unwillingness to increase production combined with an insufficient utilization of domestic resources. We need a comprehensive energy policy that balances conservation with new incentives for research and production of renewable and alternative fuels, as well as increased domestic extraction and refinement of oil and gasoline. In 1973, during the first oil crisis, America imported 35 percent of its oil and today we import 59 percent. We must end our dependence on costly foreign oil for our own national security so we no longer have to rely on outsiders who often don’t have our best interests at heart.”
-- Congressman Don Manzullo (IL-16)
Immediate relief
1. Eliminate federal mandate for “boutique fuels” in Illinois during summer – In the Chicagoland area — including McHenry County — gas prices are about 20 cents higher than other northern Illinois counties from May 1 to October 1 because the U.S. Environmental Protection Agency (EPA) requires cleaner-burning Reformulated Gasoline to be sold during the peak driving season. These more expensive “boutique fuels” were first required in the 1990s to offset smog in areas with heavy pollution. However, the EPA never took into consideration that the Chicago area has always blended its basic gasoline with clean-burning ethanol and now is marketing super-clean-burning E-85 to Flex Fuel vehicles in northern Illinois. Illinois should receive an “ethanol credit” because it is already burning cleaner fuel and be relieved from the boutique fuel requirement. Furthermore, the other areas of northern Illinois not required to burn boutique fuels still see price increases during the summer because the process of making the boutique fuels also increases the cost of making basic gasoline. Effect – Reduces gas price by 20 cents per gallon from May to October.
2. Stop filling America’s Strategic Petroleum Reserve – Our nation’s Strategic Petroleum Reserve currently stands at an all-time-high of 701 million barrels of oil. This meets the reserve goals of the International Energy Agency. Although our nation’s stated goal for the Strategic Petroleum Reserve is to reach 1 billion barrels, it is unnecessary at this time and would waste taxpayer resources by requiring the government to pay an extremely high price to fill the reserve right now. Effect – Halting purchases for the Strategic Petroleum Reserve would reduce gas prices by 5 to 10 cents per gallon.
3. Reduce exorbitant taxes on gasoline in Illinois – Each gallon of gasoline in Illinois includes an 18.4-cent federal gas tax (federal tax on diesel is 24.4 cents), a 19-cent state gas tax, a 1.1-cent state environmental tax, a 6.25 percent sales tax (about 22-cents-per-gallon when gas is at $3.50), and various local taxes, totaling more than 60 cents per gallon in most areas of the state. Congress and the Illinois General Assembly should consider reducing this excessive amount of taxation at least temporarily during this crisis. Illinois is one of a handful of states in our nation that levies a sales tax on gasoline on top of a state motor fuel tax. Effect – Could reduce gas price by up to 60 cents per gallon.
4. Encourage motorists to conserve fuel – In addition to saving money, motorists can reduce our nation’s demand for foreign oil by practicing the following driving tips from the AAA Motor Club:
· Start your car properly by not racing a cold engine to warm it up or allowing it to idle for an extended time.
· Maintain a steady speed; quick starts and sudden stops waste fuel, are harder on vehicle components and increase the odds of a traffic crash.
· Facilitate routine maintenance, such as tire, air filter, oil and fluid checks, and engine tune-ups, to ensure maximum fuel efficiency.
· Use the air conditioner conservatively, using your vehicle's "economy" or "recirculation" setting, which reduces the amount of hot outside air that must be chilled.
Effect – Proper car maintenance and sensible driving could lower gasoline bills by up to 30 percent for motorists while reducing America’s demand for expensive foreign oil.
5. Provide tax incentives to encourage motorists to save fuel
· Support legislation that would increase or remove the cap limitations on the tax credit of up to $3,000 for consumers who purchase alternative powered motor vehicles. Currently, only the first 60,000 hybrid vehicles of a particular make and model sold after January 1, 2006 qualify for the tax credit. For many of the most popular hybrid vehicles, the tax credit has expired or will expire at the end of this year. HR 76 would increase the number of hybrid vehicles eligible for this tax credit to 250,000.
· Support legislation to help offset the cost of idling reduction devices that allow truck drivers to control temperatures in their sleeping cabs while the ignition is “off.” HR 139 would allow a tax credit up to $1,000 for the purchase of the devices, which are estimated to save 960 million gallons of diesel fuel annually if adopted by all truck drivers.
Effect – Providing tax incentives to encourage motorists to save fuel would lower gasoline bills for motorists while reducing America’s demand for expansive foreign oil.
Long term relief
6. Avoid tax increases on oil and gas that will be passed on to motorists – On several occasions the past year and a half, the Democrat-led Congress has brought various bill to the floor of the House that would significantly increase taxes and regulations on the oil and gasoline industry. Imposing these burdens will only cause the companies to pass along their extra costs and raise prices at the pumps. A “Windfall Profits Tax” that taxes profits above a certain level was tried in the 1980s and failed miserably because it prompted the oil and gas industry to halt exploration and production in the United States and move it overseas to avoid the cost increases; as a result, our reliance on costly foreign oil increased 13 percent during that time. While oil and gas companies have reported record profits, they have also made record investments of $1.25 trillion in long-term energy initiatives over the past 15 years. Effect – Avoiding tax increases would keep gas prices down and encourage gas and oil companies to continue exploration and production in America, reducing our reliance on costly foreign oil.
7. Scrutinize earnings and profits of oil companies; eliminate energy speculation – With most major oil companies again reporting double digit profits this year, federal and state authorities should redouble their scrutiny of the oil and gas industry to ensure price gouging is not occurring. From 1973 to May 2007, the Federal Trade Commission (FTC) conducted approximately 190 oil industry investigations that resulted in at least 44 enforcement actions. Most notably, the FTC investigated gasoline pricing following Hurricane Katrina but found no evidence of manipulation. At the same time, we need to encourage oil companies to reinvest more of their profits into exploration and production of gasoline and R&D of alternative fuels in United States. We must also crack down on energy traders that have excessively speculated on the price of a barrel of oil. A provision in the 2008 Farm bill gives the Commodity Futures Trade Commission (CFTC) the authority to monitor energy trading behavior and prevent manipulation, particularly when these oil contracts are being used to establish a price reference for other contracts. Effect – Reinvesting oil profits into domestic production and alternatives research would help eliminate America’s dependence on costly foreign oil. Eliminating excessive energy speculation will restrain rapid price increases.
8. Withhold assistance to OPEC countries that fail to support reasonable oil prices – Major oil producing nations have the power to reduce oil prices by increasing supplies. Unfortunately, the OPEC cartel is taking advantage of the United States' dependence on its oil and refuses to turn on the spigot and produce more oil. The U.S. should take action to reduce, suspend, or terminate bilateral assistance and arms exports to major net oil exporters engaged in oil price fixing as part of a concerted diplomatic campaign with other major net oil importers to bring about the compete dismantlement of international oil price fixing arrangements. Effect – Increasing foreign oil production would reduce the price of oil.
9. Allow more domestic exploration and development of oil and gas – The United States has limited control over the price of gasoline because it relies too heavily on expensive foreign oil. Our nation has vast oil resources that are not being extracted for various reasons. We need to do a better job of extracting the estimated 112 billion barrels of U.S. oil reserves, which could power 60 million cars for 60 years:
· Using environmentally sound practices, we can produce an estimated 1.5 million barrels of oil a day on a tiny portion of the Arctic National Wildlife refuge (exploration would occur on 2,000 of the 19 million acres of the ANWR) in Alaska. The oil from the ANWR would increase America’s onshore oil reserves by over 50 percent. HR 3089 would allow oil extraction from ANWR.
· During exploration in 2006, Chevron found a deep well offshore in the Gulf of Mexico capable of producing up to 15 billion barrels of oil. China recently partnered with Cuba to drill offshore in areas near the Florida Keys that American companies are banned from exploring. HR 3089 would end the offshore drilling ban America has had in place for many years to open up 14.3 billion of barrels of oil off the Atlantic and Pacific coasts for extraction.
· The U.S. Geologic Survey just released a new assessment of production estimates for the massive Bakken Oil Formation in Montana and the Dakotas. The government now estimates 4.3 billion barrels of oil can be extracted from those fields with existing technology. We should encourage environmentally sound exploration and development of these oil resources.
· Experts estimate billions of barrels of oil exist in the United States underground in abandoned oil fields. Energy companies should explore ways to extract these resources in an environmentally sound manner as soon as possible.
Effect – Allowing for more domestic extraction of oil would reduce our dependence on expensive foreign oil and bring down gas prices in America through increased supply.
10. Encourage the continued development and production of alternative and renewable fuels – Although widespread use of alternative and renewable fuels is many years away, we must continue to research and develop the fuels of the next generation. We tried natural gas to power our vehicles but the rise in its price made it uneconomical except for larger vehicles such as delivery trucks and buses. Currently, corn-based ethanol helps to keep gas prices down by about 54 cents per gallon; however, it has matured enough as a technology to merit a gradual reduction of the direct benefits ethanol producers receive from the government. Congress must pass legislation that provides new incentives to develop other promising energy alternatives:
· Coal to liquid technology that provides diesel fuel (HR 2208).
· More environmentally sensitive extraction methods for oil shale (HR 2652).
· Extraction of oil from tar sands and heavy oil.
· Further refinement of biodiesel (HR 3781).
· Cellulose-based ethanol (made from switchgrass and other non-corn sources).
Effect – Alternative and renewable fuels will reduce the demand for costly foreign oil and reduce gas prices in America.
11. Encourage the continued development and production of alternative vehicles – We must accelerate the development of the Freedom Car initiative at the U.S. Department of Energy that is exploring the viability of plug-in hybrids, fuel cells, hydrogen-powered cars, and clean diesel vehicles.
Effect – Alternative vehicles will save motorists money, conserve energy, lower greenhouse gas emissions, and reduce America’s dependence on costly foreign oil.
12. Provide incentives to encourage development of new refineries in United States – American oil refineries are operating at or near capacity. Legislation that Congressman Manzullo voted for in 2005 is making modest progress in increasing operating refining capacity, but more still needs to be done. New refineries are needed to speed up production and reduce the price of gasoline. EPA’s regulatory framework for reviewing and processing refinery applications must be streamlined. HR 3089 permits tax exempt bonds to be used for oil refinery construction.
Effect – Development of new refineries in the United States would increase supplies of gasoline, lowering the demand and reducing the cost to motorists.
LAKE GENEVA
Grilled and slightly peppered, the salmon steak covered a heavenly soft garlic buttered mound of mashed potatoes…but I couldn’t look at my plate, too busy was I darting my eyes across the main dining floor of Gordy’s Boat House and Cobalt Lounge in Fontana, Wisconsin, on the west end of Lake Geneva on a weekend where my family spent quality time eating, shopping, and doing touristy things in Lake Geneva, Williams Bay and Fontana, Wisconsin, all within a short distance of my home in McHenry County. With the gasoline prices so high this spring, I know I’ll do much shorter vacation trips and I suspect many people won’t venture too far from home either, unless magically and with some government intervention the price for a gallon of gasoline drops to a manageable $2.50 to $3.00 a gallon. Hours before we drove on Route 50 north of Lake Geneva to the west end and Fontana, my wife, kids and I listened to a Cove of Lake Geneva concierge tell us of the great restaurants in the area; Scuttlebutts, Geneva Inn’s Grandview Restaurant, Popeyes, Ristorante Brissago, and Gilbert’s, but we chose one my youngest son had already visited with a friend and his family, weeks earlier, maybe because he got a blue plastic cup saying Gordy’s or maybe because the concierge told us we might very well see television star John Mahoney of Frasier fame standing around inside Gordy’s…..but I darted my eyes, and never caught a glimpse of Frasier’s dad, Martin Crane, but then again, the concierge said he’s bald and I can barely recognize my own bald head., let alone someone else’s. Destination Lake Geneva in the summer, certainly, people can’t get enough of the resort town, its beautiful body of water, great restaurants and shops and fabulously huge mansions, not withstanding the Wrigley Mansion and other no less incredibly expensive homes of notoriety because of its owners from our history, Sears, Pinkerton, Montgomery Ward, and Swift…and of course, the creators of the Young and the Restless, William and Lee Phillip Bell. We didn’t go in the summer…..this is spring and a very cold and wet spring …..on this particular weekend, forecasters said tornadoes were possible …and the areas under the alert were southeastern Wisconsin, McHenry and Lake Counties in Illinois, so I expected a smaller crowd at the downtown Geneva stores on Broad Street, maybe fewer people in line at a favorite shop, where you walk slowly dipping crackers or small pieces of bread into all kinds of mysterious spreads, well, the owners of this popular shop next to a fudge shop listed the dips and cheeses and where to buy them in the store…..but those small spoons didn’t serve my son Brant very well. He dug the spoon into a large key lime pie, scooping into his mouth a meringue as sweet as Brant has ever tasted and a bit of crust and key lime….ten spoons later, he had to go over to a helper at the store and ask to have a basket filled again with these tiny white spoons. But I nudged him onward, as others older and less patient squeezed behind us for their small scoop of key lime passion…..Brant found a jelly like substance, spread it on a piece of bread and passed it to me….and outside of wondering whether he’d washed his hands, I took the piece of bread and spread, and ate it…and wow, what an after taste, burning my mouth…and then another spread, more burning….until I made it to the back of the room, where my wife held a bottle of Elvis wine. Well, we passed on the wine, though I think my wife was thinking of buying the wine for her Elvis loving mother. You know I missed the World’s Largest Bunny Hop for the World Record Weekend at Lake Geneva, but I made the World’s Worst Mouth Burn on spicy food….so this couldn’t be all bad. We were fascinated by the prospect of stepping back in time, maybe seeing the stars and planets at the Yerkes Observatory on Geneva Lake in Williams Bay. Driving there from the Cove of Lake Geneva didn't take long as my son Brant kept me informed on his sighting of the observatory dome in the horizon. We entered the grounds and drove right up to the imposing entry, where we learned Yerkes is part of the University of Chicago from an inscription in the brick. Brant and his mom walked up the steps to the big door....and rang the doorbell, and after a few minutes, a woman came to the door...kind of like the Great Oz looking out a peep hole at Dorothy, the scarecrow and her other weary travelors..... the woman peered outside, and told my wife and son that she was a volunteer and we missed the tour by an hour....a bit dejected by this, my wife and son turned around, walked down the steps and vowed to return. The woman closed the huge door and went back to whatever she was doing. Despite missing a chance to bring astronomy into my kids lives, the Lake Geneva weekend was a great weekend, really, but made all that much better by the folks at the Cove of Lake Geneva. They were excellent hosts, the room we stayed in was the cleanest and best since our visit to the Island of Maui where we stayed at a similar place with a working kitchen, and a balcony, dining room and living room. Lake Geneva…hope to return soon….thanks for the memory…..
FLOODED WELLS
If your private well casing has been submerged due to the recent heavy
rains, McHenry County Department of Health (MCDH) cautions residents
that their private water wells could be contaminated. To reduce the
risk of illness, water from these wells should not be consumed until
tests confirm it is clear of coliform bacteria. Bottled water is
recommended for drinking, preparing food or baby formula or brushing
teeth. If coliform bacteria is present, the well will need to be
disinfected. Instructions can be found on the Department's website
(www.mcdh.info). Residents may also notice that their individual onsite
wastewater treatment systems will not function properly because of
flooding. Septic systems should not be used until flood waters subside.
MCDH will perform testing at no charge for flooded private water wells
after flood waters have receded. Sample bottles can be picked up at the
Department's Woodstock office or at the following locations:
* Algonquin Townships Office, 3702 Route 14, Crystal Lake, (847)
639-2329
* Dorr Township Office, 140 Newell Street, Woodstock (815) 338-0125
* McHenry Township Office, 3703 Richmond Road, McHenry (815)
385-5605
* Nunda Township Office, 3510 Bay Road, Crystal Lake (815) 459-4011
* City of Marengo, City Hall, 134 Prairie Street, Marengo (815)
568-7112
* City of Harvard, Police Department, 201 W Front Street, Harvard
(815) 943-4431
* Richmond Township Office, 7812 South Route 31, Richmond (815)
678-0077
* Grafton Township Office, 10109 Vine Street, Huntley (847) 669-3328
MCDH also cautions residents about the dangers of floodwater
contaminated with bacteria, viruses and other organisms. Common
waterborne illness symptoms include nausea, vomiting, diarrhea and
abdominal cramps. Seek immediate medical attention if symptoms persist.
Parents should also restrict children from swimming or playing in flood
waters. To prevent the spread of disease, always wash your hands
thoroughly with plenty of warm water and soap before handling, preparing
or eating food.
Cleaning up after a flood can be overwhelming. Be sure to disinfect
any food preparation surfaces that may have been contaminated by
floodwater. Any food or beverage containers should also
be carefully examined. Flooded indoor areas (walls, floors, etc.) must
be scrubbed with warm, soapy water. Wash all linens and clothing in hot
water or dry clean. If there is sewage backup in the basement, it can
be disposed of by pumping it into the toilet or floor drains if the
drains are connected to the septic system. Do not pump
sewage-contaminated water into the yard or into the street. For more
information about floodwater clean-up and recovery, visit www.mcdh.info
or call the Department's Environmental Health Division at
815-334-4585.
WALLY PHILLIPS
On school mornings, my mother used the radio as a wake up for me. Back in the late 1960’s and through my high school years, I heard Wally Phillips laughing with callers, interviewing celebrities, and talking about sports and our weather, and of course dishing out more prizes on a given morning than any other radio station. Phillips voice and my alarm clock worked in combination every time. So I heard many of his early morning bits, a radio slang for stories. Something in Wally’s voice led me unfailingly to smile, even early in the morning. Couldn’t help myself, really. I felt his passion for life, his vocal resonance washed over me. Most of his career, he spent at one radio station in Chicago, and I never had reason to believe we’d ever meet. My path brought me to work in radio in Chicagoland, but even then, he was well established as the top announcer, and I was learning the news craft. What seemed impossible to fathom, happened. Wally grew tired of retirement, so noted by Chicago Sun-Times TV Radio Critic Robert Feder. I read the Feder article in 1999 and contacted my boss, in turn, reached another well known broadcaster, Clark Weber. Weber had hosted a show on WAIT-AM, after he left WJJD. Clark talked to Wally and saw whether Mr. Phillips could make the transition to Crystal Lake and WAIT. Wally could do just that, he could make a seemless transition and bring many advertisers that were absolutely loyal to him rather than to the station. We called Wally Phillips entry into suburban radio as his introduction to the PrideLand, a take off on the fact WAIT was owned by Pride Communications. On this wonderful day in suburban radio history, Wally joined Clark Weber at the station started in the 1960s by Mal Bellairs. Giants all of them in radio, I was the recipient of their talent, working with them in various ways. But Wally’s stay was short lived, his problem surfaced a few months after he took over a weekend show. His "problem" hardly noticeable at first, but inescapable in that his producer caught him forgetting a word here and there; slight confusion. Wally privately told Clark at a golf outing he was suffering from Alzheimer’s Disease. Some time later, Wally decided he’d best leave, and I don’t know whether he felt he didn’t want to embarrass himself or that he just grew tired of doing radio, but I’d guess he never tired of radio. He tried hard to write his autobiography, bringing pictures of himself in his radio studio from the WGN days and with famous guests and among the people in the crowd. So many fascinating stories were left in his head, too murky to bring any nuance of clarity any longer. What a shame, for he was history, Chicago style, he was the body and soul of people from all over, as evidence the many classmates of mine reminising how their parents listened and repeated what Wally said this day or that day. Listeners to his program made Wally Phillips and he always recognized their importance, for this is the way of radio, the people, our listeners are what drives us to do what we accomplish every day. And by God, Wally Phillips accomplished more than most ……but we need not feel we were denied his talent, we grew up laughing, enjoying, benefiting for a long long time.
VIDEO HELP
Sometimes hard for parents to keep up with all the video games on the market, especially the games that may or may not be appropriate for a specific child's age. But how do you know what's out there. Well, we now have a new web site, called "What They Play" and this site can help you as a parent in understanding and navigating the video game landscape. You may not be scared to death of video games, however, some people are very scared because they worry about what their child may play and feel kind of helpless to monitor the myriad of games and just may not have enough expertise to really monitor correctly. This site will guide parents through the maze of games, which is quite a relief, actually. Here's the address for the site; www.whattheyplay.com
A FEW QUESTION(S) WITH STEW:
If you could meet anyone in the world past or present dead or alive who would it be?WALTER CRONKITE
What would you say is your biggest career highlight? RECEIVING WIRE SERVICE AWARDS
What’s the most embarrassing thing that has ever happened to you?
WHEN MY UNDERWEAR WAS STICKING OUT OF MY PANTS IN PUBLIC
If you could change one thing about yourself what would it be?
I WOULD REALLY LOVE TO GET A PERM.
If you could interview any artist who would it be and why?
IT’S BETWEEN BILLY JOEL AND THE BEATLES – Beatles because they defined my childhood…and Billy Joel because I love his music.
If you were trapped on an island and could only have 3 things w/ you, what would they be? Why?
70's Night Out
.jpg)
