More Flood/Golf Pix

Parenting Made Something

It took a little prodding this morning to get Alex to brush his teeth. We like to screw around when we do anything at my house. We got off task and I tried to get him back on task in a happy/slightly barky sort of way…

Me: “Alex, get yer butt in here and brush your teeth!”
Alex: “Aw but Dad…knights never had to brush their teeth.”
Me: “Yeah, well look at them now. They’re all dead.”

Teeth were brushed with great vigor this morning.

My Favorite Things and Stuff

No rock practice tonight. While that was a bummer I got to golf and my wife made an incredible dinner. Chicken piccata. Absolutely delicious. So delicious, this dinner and the evening in general made me want to list my favorite activities.

Here we go:

Holy Communion
Mass on Saturday with Kim & Alex followed by breakfast for dinner
Mass @ Newman with Fr. Hart
MAKE LOVE
Hang out with Kim and Alex
ROCK
Write
Take the boy swimming
Friends
Golf
Read
Watch football with the boy (even though I prefer baseball, I love watching the Bears with Alex and he really digs the artists formerly known as the Decatur Staleys)
Watch anything with Bill Garver
Watch baseball
Eat
Drink booze with my rogues gallery of drinking companions – you know who you are you ruddy bastards
Travel

I think everybody should be able to list their favorite things. These are mine. I think this is the right order. I’m surprised it took me about 10 minutes to come up with the list breaking my 10 minute rule for writing a portion of a blog entry.

For those who don’t know and might give a half-a-rat’s-ass, I try to keep my writing time for most of these blogs to 10 minutes. Even in the longer posts I try to write them in 10 minute spurts.

Probably shouldn’t use the term spurts here, I am opening myself to all sorts of shit.

But if I can’t take shit from the bloggosphere I better go and crawl back under my rock.

ROCK!

I missed my get-together with the boys in Sugar Grove but I had a great night.

Thank you Lord for the gift of life, my kid and my wife. I will never take it or them for granted. Believe me.

Crazy Taxi

Thanks and much love to ChrisB for loaning Alex some of his old Dreamcast games. We’ve been really into Crazy Taxi. He likes driving as Geena, the hellbent for leather, taxi-driving minx.

I’m ok with that.

There is mild swearing in the game but I don’t mind. He doesn’t hear words he wouldn’t normally hear in a taxi, or driving through DeKalb with me.

I still have DeKalb road rage. I probably should have never quit smoking.

Gave my guitar lessons tonight and the kids were swell.

The boys were ok practicing outside by the pool so Alex could swim. We were bit by skeeters but my boy and their younger sister were happy as clams swimming around. I don’t want to say this is one of our last warm summer nights, but we are getting close.

I’m sort of poor but I am so glad I am not commuting too far to some dead end job working for someone else’s glory or the edification of someone else’s children and missing this time with my boy.

Life, like this summer goes by too fucking fast.

I’ll be damned if I am gonna miss it.

I Don't Know

Driving through the OF yesterday. While I was stopped at a long light I heard a familiar guitar opening.

The old-timey punk nasal guitar was followed by the rough thumping and a high hat way too loud in the mix that always bugged me.

Sorry punk fans of ‘I don’t give a fuck’ mic placement on the snare.

Of course I made two records where we gave too much of a fuck about mic placement on the snare and the drums in general and we had the same problem on a few of the tracks.

The song was blaring out of a Corolla of all things, driven by an oily faced, dirty-blonde who was maybe 17.

It was Naked Raygun’s I Don’t Know and I quickly found myself in the embarrassing position of being a gray-templed douchebag rocking out to music in someone else’s car.

I couldn’t help myself. Besides the cool nasal guitar intro and the annoying but (I guess) necessary drum noise, that song contains what I consider to be some of the best lines to come out of the whole Chicago punk thing:

“What poor gods we’ll make”

I'm not an expert on that stuff, nor am I the biggest fan of the genre either but I remember thinking when I first heard the track in the late 80's, working at KDI with Bill - Yeah, these guys got it right.

After the light I remembered I had the song in my car. I pulled into the White Castle parking lot, dug through the glovebox of my Ford Focus station wagon, found my copy of the Summer ‘07 WILT and listened to it until I picked up the boy at his grandparents’.

What poor gods we’ll make indeed.

S-i-L

Those who know my family know that my wife Kim and her sister are very close.

My sister-in-law, her husband and daughter are currently in Haderabad.

Story

They were all ok after the coordinated attacks yesterday. My wife is trying to keep a brave face through all this. All she wants is the best for her beloved sister and her family.

Thanks Trace for calling us and giving everyone at home updates.

Maybe this is a post that I should not make because this is serious stuff and I mostly write about dopey rock ‘n roll or baseball bullshit.

The political posts are more ha-ha funny and not in the lame Al Franken-I-dream-of- changing-things-with-radio funny.

There’s that great humility for which I am known throughout the world.

Maybe I should just say this…

Trace, you and your family are constantly in our prayers. Come home to us safe. Everything else will work out.

DeKalb is the New Bangladesh

or is it BanglaKish?

Now I've Gone and Done It

Yep. I certainly have.

Unsolicited Advice to the cubs

Unsolicited Advice to the cubs

Congrats to the WhiteSOX for clawing their way out of a stinky AL Central basement. The Royals need some stinkin’ room down there. Let ‘em have that basement all to their lonesome.

Great 9th last night started by Theriot. I wanted the Giants to leave their kid pitcher in their even though it was clear that the cubs figured him out. Linsacombe(sp, Jeanz? anybody?) pitched a great game. The Giants aren’t going anywhere. Why not let the kid face the heart of the cub lineup and see what he had right at the end.

I’m sure Brewers fans and Cardinals fans everywhere were going “What are you doing? Get that snot-faced little douche out of there!!!”

But Brewers fans and Cardinals fans aren’t the boss of Bruce Bocci (sp? Jeanz? Barry Bonds? anybody?)

Again, please do not mistake my disdain for the douche Soriano as some general cub hatred but if that dumbass comes back and hits lead off I think he will not provide the cubs with some of the same great results Theriot has in the lead-off spot.

Now I am going to even put my disdain for Soriano aside and consider the dilemma for Lou Farigno Pinella.

Here’s the problem as I see it:

Soriano made his name as being a lead-off man with lots of speed (esp. 1st to 3rd speed) and pop in his bat.

He’s got home run power yet doesn’t hit homers or drive in runs in more traditional power spots down the lineup. Why you may ask? He’s a fastball hitter and oftentimes a first pitch fastball hitter (as DC Liar was quick to remind me he said “Remember how Soriano hit those lead-off home runs in back to back games against the SOX wasn’t that great?!?!?” – he was just kidding I think)

Soriano can’t do all the things that Theriot can do as a lead-off man and as a teammate. Next time you are watching the Smurfs count the number of pitches Theriot sees in an at-bat, especially in his first AB where you can exploit a pitcher who is off to a rough start

What I noticed is how the on-deck batter, the guy in the hole and the guys on the dugout steps are watching all the pitches the pitcher is throwing while facing Theriot. Theriot helps to fill his teammates’ heads with arm-angles, stuff, speeds etc…

Whatever Soriano does for his team, he can’t do that especially when he swings for the fences…sometimes on the very first pitch.

Now in the NL there are two spots that see a lot of fastballs, and remember Soriano is a fastball hitter.

The lead-off spot sees a lot of fastballs hence this is why Soriano wants to hit there and why he is most productive hitting 1st.

But the 9th hitter gets to see as many (and in the NL) more fastballs. Pitching coaches, esp. in the NL tend to develop strategies for individual players and for the game as a whole and there is some consistency especially when it comes to pitching to spots in the order.

Lou will probably hit Soriano first but why not, when Z and Marquis are pitching (two pitchers who take their jobs as baseball players seriously and can hit) hit the pitcher 8 and have dueling lead-off men Soriano 9 and Theriot back at the top of the order.

But nobody pays me to manage a professional baseball team.

Maybe I can find a way to get a team to pay me not to manage them.

The Holy Spirit Sometimes Says

- C’mon ed. Don’t be such an asshole

I think I have felt the presence of the Holy Spirit in the way some of books of the Old Testament describe it (there is, of course some debate as to whether or in what sense that spirit is the Spirit that my church recognizes but I am not trying to engage in a theological discussion or spew any hate or more ignorance than usual here)…

It is the gentle wind, the breath of God, not the fire that seems to come down in the NT.

I have never seen nor experienced the Holy Spirit in that sense and quiet frankly I don’t want to.

I think the Holy Spirit experienced thus is like when John from Cincinnati made that girl’s nipple piercings feel like they were in a blast furnace.

The dorky will remember she responded “If that is what seeing God is like then I don’t want to.”

So I think I’ve felt the gentle wind Holy Spirit not the nipple piercing on fire one.

But in the other rare occurrences in my life when I had some sort of inclination that the Spirit was communicating with me it was like…

“ed, don’t be an asshole. We know you can’t help it most of the time but there is no excuse here. If you don’t do this at this moment you will regret it. You need to live up to the thing that you are.”

Listening to that voice or being ready to hear it is part of being a new creature.

I will be the first to admit that me as a new creature is a lot like my dopey old creature most of the time.

I like writing blog posts like this because it is an honest reminder to readers here, especially those who think Catholicism is a bunch of bullshit that, sometimes, my faith does not sound reasonable.

This doesn’t mean I’m going to go all Carl Everett and say that the dinosaurs never existed.

I want my friends and random douches who stumble across the blog to see this side of me. It is not an act. It is not something I want. It is not something I embrace other than saying – IF I WANT TO BE COMPLETELY HONEST ABOUT WHO I AM, I FEEL THESE THINGS MOVING IN ME OR MOVING ME IN A DIRECTION AND I HAVE NO CHOICE BUT TO CONSIDER MYSELF A SUCCESS OR FAILURE IN LIGHT OF THE WAY I RESPOND

So earlier tonight I have set in motion a chain of events that, when added up, could come to make me look very foolish, very full of myself and small all at the same time.

I’ll write more about this in a few days when more details are present.

I do not want to be a bad example for my faith or seem like a rambling boob.

But that seems to be exactly where I am right now.

Great.

On the plus side, the bigDrag boys and Mr. J had a great meat/Bears night at ChrisB’s Monday. Let’s just say we did not compose our next great hit at practice.

Truth be told, we are usually very diligent, we do not waste time, we have never (not even as the Ambersons when we were all at least chronic alcoholics and substance abusers) called practice because of drunkenness or substance abusery.

We deserved one night to watch the re-Superbowl, eat meat & drink beer with our friend before he went back to DC.

Live Bullshit Free

I got caught up in a mini-murderous-rage over my stupid ignition problem yesterday. I need to remind myself that I have worked so hard to simplify my life. I have succeeded. It is simple. There is no reason for me to get worked up over nothing unless something is really wrong with me.

And something is not really wrong with me.

What?

I act like I a so proud of my ability to keep it simple. If I am really doing that then I can't be mentally fucked up about some of the absurdities that pointlessly loll their heads forward and back from time to time.

I need to keep my head bullshit free and that is that.

Boy & the LaHood

...or the Swiss Dick Army Knife which opens a can of worms that can only be described as sick and wrong.

The resale value of this car is going to be nil.

I didn't report it at the time but I had a minor car accident late Tuesday. Now my sangria-red Ford Focus winks at oncoming cars. It is the ongoing Ed-pays-off-the-car-and-smashes-something curse. Who am I kidding? I'm just a crappy driver.

Cars are stupid so I have already wasted too many words on my bang up.

Took Alex to the dentist this morning and for the first time he went in for his check-up by himself. The boy was scared at first but he went in and did what he had to do.

Thanks and much love to the PDawg family. Alex's reward was a chance to hang out with his buddy Luke. I was supposed to pick him up at 3pm but found my ignition was no longer igniting the shit that made the car go.

That's too dramatic. I think my key is stripped because I am abusive motherfucker with cars, and always will be.

Anyway PDawg and his crew hung out with the boy while my wife came to save me.

Thanks to my wife for saving me...again.

I've been thinking about Ray LaHood's comments re: the former Speaker's legacy. I don't think it will be the Medical bill business, I don't think he and the Republicans will get the credit (or blame) they deserve for the Bush tax cuts (see even from me, I called them the Bush tax cuts)

But I liked LaHood's remarks (even though he's on his way out as well)

While some are quick to describe the Rep from Illinois' 14th Congressional District as the Accidental Speaker who got in in part because of a sex scandal...

Rep Robert Livingston (LA, I think) was tapped to take over for Newt...

"She turned me into a Newt...I got better"

But Rep Robert Livingston...

~not to be confused with Robert Lewis Libby Livingston who is nobody....

There was some fucking hanky panky going on there...the D's were sort of on the sex-scandal-revenge warpath in the wake of what happened to their Willy and Livingston's informal polls during and before office were not going to pass muster...

I know there were, are and will always be (what am I Mork from Ork?) some who sayDeLay installed the Rep from Illinois' 14th District so he (and Dick Army) really ran the show.

I think that may have been sort of true for awhile. But Rep LaHood's remarks today were complementary for the former Speaker and I think they remind us all of something worth remembering.

Speaker Hastert was perceived either as a puppet for the DeLays and Armys in Congress or as a back room boss by others...but his colleague, Mr. LaHood said he was someone who did not try to micro-manage Congress. He decentralized authority in a way that a Tom DeLay never could have...and never would have wanted to. The R Congress was certainly less of a blue-tie neo-con mass of fear than it was during the Newt days.

OK, the war and immigration created a perception problem that the former Speaker couldn't dilute but this is not the same thing that Newt did for and to R's in the Congress.

Newt was a polarizing figure, a culture warrior who got it mostly wrong and helped Bill Clinton win two terms as president.

The former Speaker was a legislator who seemed to understand that the Republicans around him were not a unified mass. In a way, his low profile Congressional management style helped g-Bushy win two terms (I'm not saying that is a good thing, but it certainly is success). I looked at the Republican Congress for those 8 years as one that was diverse. While they did not allow for enough dissent on the war in Iraq near the '06 election (probably the most important reason for the loss) one could see a great variety of action and opinions from Congressional Republicans on immigration, embryonic stem cell research, abortion, the meaning of big government and government as such, and what the old Election of 1994 really meant.

By the end, sure the successful Republicans appeared corpulent, growing fat on 12 years of controlling both houses of Congress but there is a reason they held Congress so long, even when support for g-Bushy was waning.

The Republicans in Congress, especially House Republicans seemed more like us.

I think Denny Hastert conveyed that us-ness. His past as a wrestling coach, a teacher, a guy who had an opportunity to serve his country helped create an image (certainly not the complete picture) but one this country needs. Our leaders can come from us. They can seem like what we need at the time.

He came to power at the perfect time in 1998, a man who seemed to have nothing to hide from a country tired of looking.

The days leading up to the Republican defeat in '06, I'm sure, were dark ones for the former Speaker. Embroiled in affairs that were beyond his control and would be frustrating to any parent put in this position. He and Rep Shimkus had to, on one hand try to defend their party against a barrage of attacks at a vital point in the campaign, while answering questions from family members of pages and others sort of entrusted to the leadership.

The task was unenviable to say the least.

It was not handled with grace.

But I hope that is not the lasting memory of this man as he leaves this stage of his career.

I hope some of us can find Ray LaHood's words from late last week, reflect on them an know that LaHood understands what the House of Representatives was meant to be. It reflects us. If it is messy it is because we the people are messy. We are defensive. We do not always see the true nature of the problem until it is too late.

Thanks to all who choose to serve in Congress. In the world of writing and making records, I am a doer not a critic, in the world of politics I am a critic and not a doer...so part of me always knows how hard and sometimes thankless it is to be a doer and how easy it is to be a critic, especially a sour one.

Congrats to the political doers out there, especially my rep who announced on Friday that his 11th term would be his last You political doers have more balls than I do. To the extent that you have more of a hold on the world than I ever will, it is because you decided to reach out your arms.

Everyone looks when you do that.

///////////

oh, I was so caught up in the rare bits of Congressional history that relate to my dopey little 14th District that I forgot to mention one last thing about the boy...

Inspired my his friend Luke and Luke's mommy, Alex got his very first Swiss Army Knife. I told him he could have a reward for going into the dentist all by himself. He said: "Dad, let's go to the gun and knife part of Farm 'n Fleet and see if they have Swiss Army knives."

C'mon how cool is that?

Woman

Thanks and much love to the beautiful Kimberly Jo. She works so hard for us and her students. The Lord has blessed me with so much I won't be surprised if I get my Job-ian (or is that Gob-ian) comeuppance someday. While I am not going to list all the blessings in my life (regular readers know I do this too regularly) but I just wanted to write this slightly less than secret note to myself as a reminder of how fucking great my wife is.

Kim knows I am not above cliche so she knows I'm sincere when I say BABY, YOU'RE THE GREATEST!

While Kim kicked ass getting ready for the new school year Alex and I spent the evening swimming, eating like two horses that swam for a long time and watched Harold Lloyd's Safety Last and One Week from the great Buster Keaton.

Or is that Busta?

Wrigley Cut Us Off

Yeah we sat through the mini-monsoon conditions in order to see the old cubs lose 11-9 last night. Yeah we only felt mild to moderately safe as we sat on the metal bleachers as lightening flashed across the sky. And yeah we cheered when the crew came out and finally took up the tarp.

Mr. J: “Yay for no tarp!”

Ted Lily came out to run a warm up lap.

Me: “They’re shaking the dew off the Lily.”

Little did we know as we innocently drank our beers in the early innings that with the 8:35pm delayed start the mighty Wrigley taps would be turned off in less than an hour.

Stupid crazy fans who grabbed the Dodger-guy’s hat and threw it into the stands.

Stupid mullets at SOX park attacking Tom Gamboa.

I’m not sure what we witnessed could be called good baseball but there was a lot of offense. After the rain died down their was a nice cool breeze blowing across our stupid not drunk faces as Mr. J and I sat in the very first row of bleachers in the left field corner.

Adam Dunn received unsolicited advice on the ways in which he sucked no matter how crazy the OBS guys were about him and how he is a dream rotisserie player.

Personally, I don’t think they could get his fat ass on a stick over a fire.

Oh, back to left field. We didn’t start the game in left field (much like Alphonso Soriano)…

Our original bleacher tix were for right field. At one point while I was waiting out the rain (and waiting for my hero Mr. J to come back wth waiting beers) in our right field bleacher spot the folks in left field began chanting “RIGHT FIELD SUCKS! RIGHT FIELD SUCKS!”

How quick baseball fans are to turn against one another.

This girl behind me, who only moments before was lamenting the fact that she didn’t bring her bathing suit to enjoy this summer rain in the old park said “Yeah, lightning sucks!”

Me: “No, they are saying right field sucks. See, now some folks from our section are chanting back left field sucks. Somehow centerfield is completely immune to such criticism.”

Mr. J came back from purchasing our waiting/rain beers and said “Come on, right field sucks. There's some primo real estate to be had right down by the left field basket. See?”

Left field was right all along.

What else did I learn…

Even though I felt bad for cubs fans, and I like pitching it was fun to see a bunch of homeruns hit. The only one that was a bummer was the last one which put the Redlegs up for good.

Mr J captured the anguish of cub fans throughout the park when he said: “They expect us to watch this shit sober?!?!”

The Airport Run

Their flight was delayed in Denver...STUPID DENVER....but Kim and Alex are home!!!!

That's something a guy can get pretty geeked up about.

Ole Kobe Day

Happy birthday to my cousin. He rocks as always. I owe much of my love of guitar and love of rock to that guy and for that I thank him.

My bankbook says something different.

All kidding aside hope you have a great day Cousin Mike, enjoy. Life is sweet.

Speaking of life being sweet, although I really miss Kim and Alex, I had a great evening golfing. I managed to get 18 holes in and by the middle of my excursion every part of my being was relaxed.

I was completely content.

Happy just being.

This has been a good weekend. The mayhem of Friday was followed by a more subdued evening seeing John and Em who I haven’t seen out and about in forever. Thanks and much love to Mr J for remembering to buy a pizza on Sat. Sunday DC & I met up at Bill Garver’s for the last John From Cincinnati. Delicious beer and a fun time was had by all.

Band practice/meeting was moved to Tuesday. I’ll get together with those guys and maybe our friend from the District…then head to Midway late to pick up Kim and Alex from the airport.

YAAAAAAAAAAYYYY!!!!!

Cubs game on Wed and I actually scheduled a little time off Thursday morning so I can stroll in late and triumphant. I don’t know what it is I will win but any trip to Wrigleyville makes a guy feel like a winner.

No not because the cubs are a bunch of losers.

I’m actually proud that a place like Wrigleyville exists in the major metropolis that is nearest to me. It really has the chance to be the new New Orleans because it has everything…beers, romance and dreams

Ok, it doesn’t quiet have the strippers per person ratio that the Big Easy does but Wrigleyville doesn’t need strippers.

We’re gonna be in the right field bleachers Wed night so watch me catch a Griffey big fly. I’ll be rooting for a win for my cub fan friends. Mostly I’ll be cheering for fun in the old timey ballpark.

I said several prayers today for my good friend Steener. She took some big exams in her program today. She is entering the final stretch of this portion of her life. I hope she can see the end of this part of the journey coming and enjoy it.

Gotta go and do a bunch of housework before Kim comes home.

Elephant Gun

Beirut’s music is surprisingly simple in its complexity. That sounds like a stupid rock review hook line but I think it is true. The accordion on Beirut albums is great. Believe it or not, with few exceptions, I find recorded accordion music to be annoying and almost painful to listen to.

Anyway I’m not going to review the Lon Gisland EP or anything like that. But there is much on the thing that I am drawn to. Maybe some of you will like the Elephant Gun video.

Here tis

What Went Wrong

It was a simple plan…

Get home from work, organize bills and my paycheck, water Kim’s plants, feed Alex’s fish and make a few phone calls.

That part went just fine.

Fire off a round of golf, meet Mr. J at the Annex, order a pizza and have a late dinner and drinks with friends…just a little pre-big-drinking night get together, and the big drinking night was to be tonight.

We forgot to order the pizza.

All that went right and wrong with the rest of the evening stemmed from that minor sin of omission.

There were no major explosions but I did get punched in the stomach.

Hard.

- my empty stomach because of the no pizza thing.

J and I played a little rough. I caught some friendly fire from the sidewalk outside the Annex which has left me with a cute little raspberry reminder just below my knee.

Many well-wishers came by to wish our friend from out of town, uh…well.

A few well-wishers came by to say they liked the last bigDrag show. It was sweet. I am not too proud to pretend to be small-town famous.

Buzz, Dave Reed and some other dedicated men of drinking showed up and things are a little fuzzy after that.

Got up and cleaned some of the dried blood from my leg and checked my voice mail. There was only one. Mr. J called at some point grumbling, “We forgot to order the pizza.”

Mr. Motto

bigDrag – We’re in the process of developing a motto.

I got a text from a pallie right after the show w/ the Dollyrots ended. My friend couldn’t make it and wanted to know how things went.

My response: “Show was weird.”

It was. About half of it was the best we can play…the other half things felt like they could fall apart at any minute.

At one point, 2/3rds of our quartet seemed to be playing five different songs…

…at least that’s how our manager Yogi Berra described it.

We fucked up part of the show big time and I thought ‘bigDrag – Not living up to our no motto’

The parts that were great were totally worth it. Do I wish we played a perfect show? Actually, no. I’m not chasing the perfect show because I’m not sure there is anything we can do to make that happen. We can practice until we play our set with metronomic perfection but that would just make me feel icky.

The unpredictability is part of whatever rock is. I don’t necessarily want to play a show like that again but I’m not too racked up about what happened either. We’ll figure out what to do next.

We always do.

Love, Beauty and Baseball

Praise God, Kim and Alex made it safely to Seattle.

I was at bigDrag practice when Bonds hit 756. I said I wanted to see the home run if I could, I certainly wasn’t going to put my life on hold for it. I love baseball but my music is me and that’s that.

I sound like one of those stupid ‘my music’ or ‘my game’ guys don’t I? Sorry about that.

The part of the home run call that was most appropriate was “…and Barry Bonds stands alone.”

That was maybe more appropriate than the announcer intended. But I won't go into the type of player in a team sport Barry is, or how he isolated and alienated baseball fans in his strange pursuit of all this. I think there is redemption for everyone even Barry Bonds, and even Barry Bonds as home run champion.

He didn't stand alone for long last night. He had his godfather, the great and somewhat bitter Say Hey Kid....

Aand he received a surprise message as well...

God Bless you Hank Aaron for adding some semblance of grace to the evening.

Not Mark Grace, I’m sure last night Gracie was on his third shot of Jaeger, second pack or Marlboro Reds, and looking for a nice slumpbuster to settle down with for the evening.

Devin was on me the other night for my “defense” of Bonds, or my explanation as to why I was watching Frankenstein chase the Hammer. When Dev said “Look dude, you can say what you want about reality tv and the Bonds chase but he’s turning baseball into that shit. He’s turning baseball into wrestling. I thought you loved baseball.”

Again, fine point by my dear friend.

In watching the replay of Aaron’s speech I was reminded of all that is good and all that is real in baseball.

Eras come and go.

Records fall.

For better or worse, men become part of a greater mythology.

Henry Aaron did something amazing with his pre-recorded speech on the Tyrann-O-Vision at the ballpark formerly known as Pac Bell…

Before our eyes, this man straddled the line between mortal man and legend. He made baseball fans feel like he knew what he was doing all along, there was no point for Hank Aaron to follow this circus. He was in a circus in 1974 and the clowns were armed with hate and maybe sniper rifles.

In Henry Aaron’s eyes I saw a man who stood on top of a mountain for 30 some years. He held the greatest record in all of sports. It is a record that every fan with passion knows by heart. For many years baseball fans taught their kids 714, and for the last 33 years they told them to remember 755.

Ironically, until Barry is done we won’t know what number to tell our kids, and maybe there will be other things difficult to teach about this complex man.

But forget the irony and forget Bonds for now. I’ll come back to him when he doesn’t make the Hall of Fame on the first ballot.

I want to think of Henry Aaron. I believe he was sincere when he said the most significant achievement was not the record itself but how the record could inspire others. I don’t think Henry Aaron was foolish enough to believe that simply by his own power, hitting 755 home runs inspired anyone to do anything. He seems to be a man of great depth and understanding.

What the Hammer knows, I’m sure, is how baseball itself inspires dreams in its fans, how history and miracles live between lines of chalk and are recalled with numbers like

56

755

.400

714

61

2005

…ok, I had to get that last one in there. Sorry cub fans.

We see these numbers, we tell the stories, we know that if we saw the stuff of baseball in a movie we would laugh and then ask for our money back because there is no way we can suspend our belief and take in the impossible.

In remembering these moments and incredible stories we think that magic or miracles are possible, even in ordinary lives. Baseball has an “ordinary sense” to it in that it is played on a daily basis for a significant portion of the year.

We are inspired by the unforgettable seasons, records, the brilliant plays in the course of average or below average seasons. This is what Aaron meant. He knew his part was a significant one but what made it significant was the love of baseball and the fans who embrace all that is beautiful in their beloved.

Aaron said he was privileged to hold the record for 33 years. Let me say on behalf of all baseball fans, we were privileged to have the Hammer as the Home Run King.

I know that Americans are supposed to love democracy and baseball is supposed to be the American pastime. But that is part of the dream of baseball. We fans want a king.

One can view the new record holder as a usurper or a villain of some sort but I prefer to think of Henry Aaron’s steady eyes and calm voice as he said he was now moving over for the new record holder.

You weren’t moving aside Mr. Aaron. You moved up the mountain where men do not need numbers. Your achievement and the part you played in the history of baseball has certainly inspired many. But you inspired me one more time last night, not with your bat, not with a number, but with your dignity.

Who knows, you may have even inspired the guy who hit 756…

Ok, now I sound like I've taken a few too many to the old bean.

Travel Day

Lord,

Please be with Kim & Alex as they drive to the airport today and fly to Seattle. We know that all love, all beauty comes from you and is the essence of creation. Your will be done in this world of love and mystery. In your son Christ Jesus' holy name

-Amen.

Summer Is NOT Almost Gone

/but it kinda sorta feels that way, especially when you are six.

bigDrag practice got called on accounta rain. What're we, an arena rock band?

We took advantage of me being in town on a Monday to take Alex shopping for his back to school supplies. He was a good sport about it - probably because we were shopping for actual school supplies and not clothes or stuff like that. He's usually a good kid and does what he is asked so I can't complain.

At one point he said "Dad summers seem to go way faster than the school year. Was it that way when you were a kid?"

Some things don't ever change.

"Yeah boy, I felt that way when I was your age. It's easy to say you should always live in the moment and love what you are doing at any given time, but it is so much easier to love the moment when that moment is at the park in July and not in class in the middle of February."

"Do you miss having summer break?" Alex asked.
"No, because I really do love my life and everything I have to do to have this life."
"Even when you're mad?"
"Yes Alex, even when I seem mad."
"I wish there was a way that kids could make summer longer," Alex said.
"Why don't you remind me of some of your favorite things we did this summer."
"Ok Dad. Going on the Midway (aircraft carrier), going to Mexico and going swimming every day with mom"

(they didn't go everyday but they went every day they could)

Then Alex got a little whinny (my beloved son can do that from time to time): "Aw Dad...remembering all the fun summer things just makes me miss them more. Now I've got to sit here in the car with you waiting for Mom to pay for the rest of my school junk."

"It's hard to deal with memories and fun times and where they stand kid. That's something daddy struggles with all the time. Yeah I wish there was a way to just freeze all the good times and do only the things that seem fun, but life just doesn't work that way."

"That doesn't help," said Alex sadly.

I thought about the advice I used to get from grown-ups about being a kid and such...

"This probably won't help now Alex but people I grew up with used to always tell me to enjoy being young. They used to say that 'These are the best days of your life blah blah blah plus tax'..."

"Why'd they say plus tax?"

"They didn't Alex. Elvis said that. Forget the tax part. I just realize now that when they told me to enjoy being young that all my best days were when I was young, they didn't know what they were talking about. They saw me in possession of something they had, their immediate impulse was to miss that, being young, and they mistook their impulse for thinking that being young was the best thing that ever happened to them and the best thing that could happen to anyone."

"When is Mom coming back? I'm bored," the boy was near the limits of his abilities to listen to my shit.

"I guess the point is no one knows why summer goes by so fast. It might only seems to go by fast especially when we miss the things that made it fun. Maybe the best advice I can give you here is you are going to get to find out one way or the other what is fun, what is worth doing. It's my hope that you will love your life all year round like I do."

"There's Mom! I think I see a dog folder in the WalMart bag. Can we have a dog Dad?"

I'm pretty sure that no wisdom was imparted to my son on this rainy evening in DeKalb, but I'm at least proud of one thing - There's no way I bullshitted my kid through that important conversation of time, space and the ever fading events that make up summer vacations past, present and whenever. I hope when he's older he will remember that his dad fessed up and admitted when he didn't know shit.


If Alex is blessed with children and one of them asks him "What did Grandpa know about the space-time continuum?" I hope he smiles and says, "Grandpa was a great guy, but he was no Stephen Hawkings. He was more like Screamin' Jay Hawkins only white and a lot less talented. But a great guy."

Raise Your Hopeful Voice

There was perfect weather today for the drive out to the St. Charles Mall. There was light rain, intermittent heavy rain and by the time I got back to my neighborhood, the sun took over once again.

Kim and I got a sitter and went to see Once. My sweetie’s reaction as she wiped away a few tears and composed herself was: “Honey I’m glad you know people who know what good things are or we would’ve never seen this movie.”

Priceless.

Thanks Bill Garver for telling me about this Geln Hansard guy, his band the Frames and this movie. I think the most precious moment for me came in the credits when I saw there were only three camera operators and one of them was John Carney.

John Carney happened to be the director.

Hansard’s shitty Takamine rent (in the sense that it had a bunch of fucking holes in it) guitar should also get a nod for best supporting actor in a non-human role.

Making films like this or writing songs like this is a very brave thing to do. These men are clever and talented. They could easily get in the business of looking cool or sounding new and covering up their bullshit with their considerable skills and artifice. The choice to write the songs for Once and to make a film like this is a conscious decision, a way that artists put their thought and feeling on display – honestly and see if the world will call bullshit on them.

There’s no ‘this is what I was trying for’ loophole. Yet the movie and the record (which I have been listening to nonstop since Friday) offers a unique way of packaging a film and a record. It is something I have never seen/heard before. But the clever package is not what will stay with me.

Ironically, it’s not even the raw emotion or the beauty of Hansard’s songs or his voice (and that of his costar harmonizing together)

It’s the combination of the filmmaker’s ability to tell this story over one of the songs while the audience gets a flashback of the main character’s relationship with his former girlfriend. We see the pieces of memories and are brought back into room where a lonesome singer with a guitar tries to make sense of it all. That little interlude was as telling and rich and viscous with meaning as the breakup of Charles Foster Kane’s first marriage depicted in a series of breakfast conversations (ending with one last, stoney non-conversation).

In the ex-girlfriend/writing song about ex-girlfriend montage the audience gets real insight into the creative process. You look at the guy going through this stuff again and sending it out through his guitar and with his voice.

Here is where I found the realities of the creative process on display. Nobody is “healed” by writing a song about a painful event, breakup, or whatever. You can give it a different life, sort of, by putting it on a page or in a song or a film. You have come to grips with nothing other than what you have made. You’ve made it, and maybe made something new or tolerable out of it – whatever the “it” was.

That’s what Hansard’s character (probably Hansard himself) gives us and we can see it in this wonderful portion of the film.

He has not made peace with his past. He has made something new from his past.

He is not living in the past; he is just trying to live with it.

See the trailer and then see Once.

Why Not Us

/or "On the Considerable Consolation of Baseball in a Dark, Scary World"


If I have learned anything from the unbridled enthusiasm of my cub fan friends this year...why not believe and act as if anything is possible? It's baseball and baseball is for believers. At the very least it is more fun if you believe, even when shit is bleak.

cub fans believe in the miracle of the "if" so I am going to embrace the "if" and I will believe in the miracles that follow if and only if I see the first "if" come true.

This is all a little more "contingent-based faith" than organized religion as I understand it.

I guess I'm saying you can bargain with faith in organized baseball a bit more than you can in organized religion.

Everybody thinks I'm nuts don't they.

IF Gavin Floyd can win today's game helping the SOX complete their sweep of Los Tigres...

and IF the SOX can sweep the Native Americans in their upcoming 4 game (I think it's a 4 game) series...

and IF the Good Guys can cut the lead to 5 games by August 15th or so....

Why not the White Sox? I won't say 'Why Not Us' even though that's the title of the post. I had a dear friend who would always refer to the Bears as "we".

My response was always "We? What...ya got a squirrel in your pocket or something? I hope to hell that your we doesn't include me cuz I love the Bears but I ain't getting my head smashed in for them or anybody!"

BEARS!

Here's a pointless Bears prediction by the way - Rex (who I like and have no reason to root against) Rex will get hurt but the Bears will still make the playoffs and go deep in the playoffs but will not win the Superbowl again.

BEARS

Please know that, like all my predictions, I am basing it on nothing more than gut. But anybody who knows me knows I have a big gut.

Back to more important matters, why not believe in the SOX? I sort of wrote the season off a while ago even though I've watched or listened to most of the games (for that is what I do)

It's 3-0 and Gavin Floyd has yet to telegraph his fastball. Wait, he just threw a curve ball for a strike! I'd stick around to enjoy the game but Kim and I are going to see Once.

I love the SOX but this film is supposed to be great so I am taillights folks.

1255

Thanks and much love to OleKobe and fam for having my little crew over. Great seeing my cousin. He listened patiently while I stumbled, bumbled and muttered my creamy loose vision for the Old Kishwaukee Band thing. More on that at some point.

A-Rod hits 500 on the same day Bonds ties the great Hank Aaron.

I know I once called Bonds the Duke of Winstrol (still think that is a pretty good nickname for the guy)…

…but I’ve watched most of the games ESPN has broadcast since the two homers he hit in Wrigley. We listened to the game at work and I thought ‘I will be sorry if I don’t try to watch whatever part of the Bonds’ games that I can’

I’m glad I decided to watch. I know there are a lot of people who are sick of hearing about Bonds. Sometimes I feel that way as well. But if you like reality tv and the boring drama it puts forth, I submit to you that while Bonds will not give us his thoughts in front of a “closet cam” he is part of the same swirling, semi-nauseating controversy –

BUT HE IS ACTUALLY DOING SOMETHING THAT NO ONE HAS EVER DONE!

Maybe one of those kitchen/chef reality shows might be on par with what Bonds is doing because most chefs I know are mad geniuses and capable of far greater feats of artistry than me…

Maybe the ice truckers are tougher than Bonds but that’s it…mad chefs and bad-ass truckers are the only denizens of reality tv that can hold a candle to Bonds.

Boo A-Rod and Bonds if you like. It’s not for me to convince people to love Barry or A-Rod or anybody. I love baseball, I love the majesty of the game and I can even see beauty in the feats of those who seem to be the villains. Whatever the defects of the two batsmen mentioned above, they are worth more than every rattletrap who comes on tv screaming about being disrespected, preening to be the next supermodel, vowing to stand as a tough talking judge that gets results or telling everyone how to raise children.

8 Strong From 56

Alex was bummed about the SOX beating on the Tigers again so I tried to hide my joy. Buehrle looked good into the 8th. That’s what you do when you are great like Mark Buehrle…especially when you know that your bullpen (minus Bad Bobby) is for shit.

Uribe gets the salami!

And even Alex was excited to see Crede’s replacement Josh Fields leave the yard. Ya gotta love the plucky young 3rd baseman.

Family fun night in our yard. Kim grilled some delicious chicken while Alex ‘n I played bionic ball on the trampoline (in between checking on the SOX game). We also engaged in some dangerous swinging on the play set.

It's not fun without a little danger in the family picture.

The Hundred Dollar Man

Great father and son time this week. We’ve dialed in to a lot of Bionic Man clips in the youTube. Trying to get Alex to understand the value of money and he's getting the hang of it. He now refers to Steve Austin as the Hundred Dollar Man. I tried to make up for the damage done to the boy by Day of the Robot.

Last night I introduced him to Louis Armstrong.

Old Dog Fills the Void

Good job to our friend the Old Dog. He talked to the Void guy and we are going to investigate the possibility of recording a few songs there. He also has an advance copy of new material from Pat Clapp and the Cousintouchers. If we aren’t part of DeKalb’s cultural elite I don’t know who is.

Not sure if Einstein is in Pat’s band.

Poor Dumpster is getting squeezed here in the cub game.

Alex and I didn’t stay with the SOX game long enough to see A-Rod become the youngest man to hit 500 home runs. The way the flash bulbs go I wouldn’t be surprised if A-Rod ends up being the oldest man stuck on 499. I don’t know how anyone ca n concentrate through that shit. But that’s why he is A-Rod and I am ed.

I can barely watch a baseball game, write this blog post and listen to a story laying out some of the ramifications of Murdoch purchasing the Wall St. Journal. Martin Scorsese I am not.

Wonder if Murdoch would consider purchasing Al-Jazeera?