Book Club

Book Club meets on the first Thursday of each month, at 9pm, at Bluestone on Central Street. So you know where I'll be this Thursday.


The joke, of course, is that there are no books brought or discussed. It's just a bunch of Lincolnwood School and St. A's dads (with a few others) who get together each month to have a few beers.


The kids think this is the funniest thing. Emmet will ask me each month, "So, Dad -- are you going to 'Book Club'"? His eyes twinkle, and he smiles his elfin smile, and he makes air quotes with his fingers around the words "Book Club".


It's been going for six years or so, I think; it used to rotate among various venues, but it's been at Bluestone for the four years I've been a "member". A few of the original guys still attend, a few have faded away, and there's often a new face or two -- on any given month there'll be 6-12 guys.


The club chairman's responsibilities include:

1. Send an email reminder out to everyone the day before, ideally a well-composed bit of topical humor.
2. Show up on Thursday.
3. Umm, that's about it.
   

The chairman serves as long as he wants, and then as long after that until he can find someone willing to take over. For much of last year the chairman, Mark, wasn't really living up to his duties, and in September there was a bloodless coup and Lou was installed. Apparently Mark was a little miffed at first, until it was pointed out to him that a) he wasn't doing the job, b) he didn't really want the hassle in the first place, and c) being replaced was a chairman's primary goal -- he'd accomplished this early!


(Lou is doing a tremendous job, by the way, and shouldn't even think about relinquishing his title for a few years, at least.)


I'll never forget when my neighbor Jim came for the first time, and brought a book: "Three Cups of Tea". What was he thinking? At first there was...silence. Then some harrumphing -- a primary Club rule (maybe the only one) had been broken. Then sarcasm and open derision. After a couple of years now that has faded to good-natured ribbing, which will go on, roughly, forever. But Jim's a good guy, so he can take it. (He hasn't brought a book since!)

A controversy that preceded me in October 2004: One of the members felt compelled to state a clear case (via the email distribution list) for one of the presidential candidates that year, disparaging anyone who might support the other candidate. An email flame-war ensued, and things were a little testy for a few months, apparently. So in general we now steer clear of politics, and instead just share our innermost thoughts and feelings.

Hah! Hah hah hah! We talk about sports, of course, and trivia, and sports trivia. And local Evanston stuff, especially the schools and the city government. And kids, and work, and whatever else comes up.

When the bill come at the end of the night everyone throws in $20, and that usually covers the tab with a nice tip. Sometimes it's a little too much, and some money carries over to next month, but it all seems to work out.



Book Club is great camaraderie, and easily the best 20 bucks I spend each month.


Pat

The Mendoza Line

It's hard to believe the baseball season is already 1/4 over, but the standings don't lie.  The Cubs just survived a miserable 8-game losing streak, but they're still a game over .500, so things could be worse.

My baseball loyalties have generally followed wherever I was living; while going to school in Detroit I got to be a big Tigers fan.  My timing was good, as I was there for the wonderful 1984 championship season, including going to a World Series game at Tiger Stadium.  

I've now been here in Chicago for 20+ years, so the Cubs are my team.  (Cue the violins.)

I appreciate the baseball season's deliberate pace.  In March you get some hints about this year's team out of spring training, and the anticipation starts.  After the Opening Day fanfare I don't get too excited about April/May; you don't want to burn out early, after all, and 162 games take a while.  (Although it was thrilling when the '84 Tigers started the year with 35 wins in 40 games.)  By June it feels like summer, winter sports are done, and you can reasonably count on Wrigley Field weather being OK.  Then it's the heart of the season through August, and if the Cubs are in the playoff hunt September is exciting, and every game important.

(Let's not talk about what happens after that each year.)

Baseball really lends itself to radio.  You know where the players are in your mind's eye, and good announcers can fill the considerable non-action time with baseball instruction, stories, and humor.  If you need painting done in the summer I'm happy to help for a few hours -- just promise me a Cubs game on the radio, and a cold drink at the end.

The game has plenty of nuances in both strategy and custom, and picking these up makes me feel part of a big club.  Example: Runner on first, no outs, right-handed batter up.  If the batter hits a ground ball to the right side of the infield the runner may be able to advance to second, into scoring position; if it gets through into right field he'll wind up on third.  The pitcher knows this, so he's throwing inside, trying to get a grounder to the shortstop (and a putout at second) or a fly out.  A good hitter in this case can get his hands out in front of the swing and still hit an inside pitch on the ground to the right; it's called hitting the ball "inside out".  He'll go back to the bench having done his job, getting a couple of high fives, and many (but not all) fans will understand why he's being congratulated for making an out.

Another: There was a light-hitting shortstop named Mario Mendoza a few years ago who finished the season hitting just below .200.  Ever since then a .200 average has been called the "Mendoza Line", and is an indicator of a really bad hitter.  If you're a young player hitting below the Mendoza Line you'd better be nice to your uncle Bill who owns the warehouse, as you may need a job there soon.

There are a million other stories or examples like these, and I don't think I'll ever stop learning about the game.  As long as the Cubs are competitive I'm interested.  And who knows -- maybe This Is The Year?

Pat

Goodbye, Pongo

We always had purebred dogs growing up, and now I've owned two purebreds as an adult.  But there are great aspects to getting a mutt from the pound, at least that I've observed:

• Somehow the mix of genes seems to make them healthy, and smart -- not always, but often
• They're housebroken already
• Shelters do a good job (I think) of assessing dogs and finding the right fit for a family
• It's cheap
• It's a good deed

What other reasons would you need?

About 14 years ago Sheila (Rachel's niece) and her mom were living in a 3-flat on Brummel Street in south Evanston, not long after Sheila's graduation from Purdue.  They decided they wanted a dog, so Rachel and I took Sheila one Saturday to the "Orphans of the Storm" shelter in suburban Riverwoods.

The dogs were bouncing around in their cages as the people browsed by.  One in particular was jumping extra high, and periodically growling at the dogs on either side.  It resembled a slightly stocky coyote, with big brown eyes and a mouth that made it look like she was smiling.  I thought she also looked like quite a handful, but it's the one Sheila wanted.  After a smelly car ride back to Evanston (it wasn't me - honest!) we bathed the dog thoroughly and let her start to settle in on Brummel.

"Pongo" always seemed a little...untamed.  She had so much energy, and not too much patience.  She'd jump up on the couch to lay her head in your lap, but jump down to do something else after 5 or 10 seconds.  She was pretty aggressive toward other dogs early on, especially those smaller than she was.  I'm guessing it was the (probable) German Shepherd in her, as she just wanted those other dogs to go where they were supposed to, dammit!

We saw her a lot, as she seemed to accompany Sheila everywhere -- certainly whenever Sheila and Kathy came over to our house, which was often.  Pongo was oddly submissive towards me, crouching and pinning her ears back as she approached me.  (I don't have that effect very often...)  She grew to tolerate other dogs pretty well, and never once growled at a kid.

I was amazed at how spry she was into her teens, but she did slow down a lot in the last couple of years.  She had been deaf as a post for a while, her vision was pretty far gone, and she was starting to accumulate some other health problems, too.

I'll let Sheila tell the ending, from the email she sent out to a few folks today, titled "All Dogs Go To Heaven":

"At the ripe old age of 15 1/2 years old, I had to put Pongo to sleep yesterday. She had a great long life but it was time to let her go.

We had a quiet last day together that consisted of cuddle sessions (usually ending in tears for me), a couple short walks where she got to sniff whatever she wanted for however long she wanted & some laying in the grass time. Shortly before we went to the vet, Pongo had her favorite meal of roasted chicken followed by peanut butter for dessert.

Pongo enriched my life more than I thought possible and I'll miss her dearly. It's going to be a while before I get used to not hearing the patter of her paws in the hallway & I stop looking for her smiling greeting when I get home from work.

Thank you, Pongo, for 13 1/2 years of your unconditional love & companionship. Rach, please take care of her."

Dogs don't get to pick their owners, but Pongo could have done a lot worse, don't you think?

Pat

Throw Off the Bowlines

"I like quotes." -- Pat Harrigan

Well, I do like quotes. Not just the pop culture stuff I wrote about a while ago, but also the pearls of wisdom from various writers and thinkers over the years. Maybe it's the engineer in me: Invent something if you have to, to get the job done, but it's better to use or adapt what's already been invented. If someone's already shared a Deep Thought, well, you've got a head start on being smart.


A Deep Thought I've been considering recently is courtesy of (or at least attributed to) Mark Twain: "Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn't do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover."

I love that. It's really the same instruction as "Just Do It" or "Carpe Diem", but it tells you why, and the why rings true. Think back on your last twenty years: is the first regret you think of "I wish I hadn't...", or is it "I wish I had..."?


Let's continue with Twain's metaphor. Sometimes a harbor is a good place to be, like during a storm. And when the storm has passed you might need a little time to regroup, and your crew will, too. But you shouldn't wait too long, or grow too comfortable tied up to the dock -- you're meant to be out sailing, right? Even if there are risks, including another possible storm?


I'm trying to figure out what my bowlines are. What things am I doing now, just because I've always done them and they're comfortable? (Some are probably good to continue, of course, like "work for a living" or "wear pants".) What adventure or experience or other good thing have I been passing up as a result, or am I missing out on now? And not just me, but my crew here at home? How might I finish these: "I've always wanted to...", or "It'd be great for the kids to...", or "I could really help people by..."? And once I figure those out, I've just got to get to it.


I'll leave this entry a bit short, since I can't think of anything more useful to add to Mr. Twain's words. So how about you: what would you regret not doing, twenty years from now? Well?



Pat

Team Rachel Goes For A Walk

I thought out-of-towners and everyone who couldn't make it might like to hear about Saturday's ovarian cancer walk in Chicago...

After a miserable winter and a nonexistent spring (seemingly always 45 and overcast), Saturday was a beautiful day here: 60 and sunny.  What a welcome change!  I piled the kids, two of Fi's friends, and Sheila into the car and left Evanston, getting to Lincoln Park at 9am.  As we were headed to the restaurant rendezvous we met up with the group leaving there, so we turned around and all headed over into the park.

The walk had about 2,000 participants last year, and I'm guessing it was similar this year.  Team Rachel was about 50 people - friends, neighbors, relatives, colleagues of Rachel's, teachers from St. A's, etc.

The t-shirts were interesting.  Registering got you the typical event t-shirt: white, with an NOCC design on the front, and lots of sponsor logos on the back, just like at a 10K run.  This is what most people wore.  Ovarian cancer survivors were given special teal shirts, and led the start of the walk.  (There seemed to be so few of them, and they weren't a healthy-looking bunch.)  Our group all wore our Team Rachel shirts, and some other teams had their own custom designs ("In Memory Of...", etc.)  Some people carried signs as well.  There were a lot of personal stories represented.

Beforehand I had found the registration website at active.com a little wonky, but the event itself seemed pretty well run: Plenty of volunteers, adequate information and supplies, and a well-marked course.  Everyone seemed to know what to do and where to go, and we started off at 10am.

Team Rachel got split up pretty quickly, as it's hard to get 50 people to stick together, especially when half of them are kids.  Clusters of 5-10 of us were spread throughout the long parade, walking and chatting at a leisurely pace.  The course went south from Belmont to Fullerton, back up to Diversey and around Diversey Harbor to Fullerton again, under Lake Shore Drive to the lakefront, up to Belmont, and back over to the event site.  It was every bit of 3 miles, and took a little over an hour to do.

The kids seemed to have a lot of fun, enjoying the spring outing with their friends and cousins.  Elvis, too, as he never met an adventure he didn't like.  Along the way I got to do a second good deed for the day with a few of the guys, as we helped someone push her stalled car off of Lake Shore Drive.

About 30 of us met afterwards at the Firehouse Grill in Evanston for lunch, which was a loud, boisterous, upbeat affair, kids running every-which-way.

I was exhausted when I got home.  I'm sure some of it was from the walking, the sun, and the sunburn I picked up.  I think a fair amount was mental and emotional, though: being re-immersed in the subject of ovarian cancer for those several hours, plus the weeks leading up to the event.  A mixture of useless thoughts ("What could we have done differently 9 months ago?") with useful ones ("What can we do now?").  I'm already thinking about next year's walk.

Together Team Rachel raised over $5,000 for ovarian cancer education and awareness.  Thanks, again, to everyone who took part, and to everyone who made a donation for this very worthy cause.  It means so much.

Pat

"Be an angel to someone else whenever you can, as a way of thanking God for the help your angel has given you." -- Eileen Elias Freeman