Not starting with a title makes this easier at times. Just start by putting some words in play and the rest will happen. I am returning to something I used to do on a much more regular basis--listening to music.
I wonder about today's most popular mode of listening, though. I was in downtown Chicago about five years ago on a weekday morning and everybody was wearing ipod earbuds (could have been iphone earbuds, too, I guess). But the point that strikes me is that it is a solitary experience. Each person is in his/her solitary world, listening to music.
Now, I am sure my wife prefers not to listen to the music I enjoy, but I am just as sure she doesn't want me to shut her out and move around with earbuds on all day. I haven't resolved that just yet, but I have a new gadget that will allow me to listen to what I want to in one of the final places where I can control what I listen to--my car. Now mine is old enough that there is no place to plug in an mp3 player--heck, it has no CD player, cassette player, etc. But, you can't plug in your earbuds and drive. You're likely to run someone off the road singing along to "Under the Boardwalk" or "I Can't Get No Satisfaction." So, I bought a little gadget for myself for my birthday. It plugs into the lighter (yes, my car is old enough to have a cigarette lighter, not a power source) and into your ipod--my apologies to all you competitors to Apple, I just have an ipod--and set the radio frequency for an empty spot and turn on your music. Cool.
I don't spend a lot of time in my car, but I do spend lots of time on planes--another place I can control what I hear. Putting in the earbuds can work there, but I need something wireless. I have adjusted to the bluetooth for my phone, can I get one to function with an ipod? I am going on the prowl for such a device. Hope I don't get tired of music... It looks like I am going to have a bagful of gadgets and chargers to make music happen that is bigger than a suitcase.
Learning new things, just one more--spell check says "earbud" is a misspelling, preferring "ear bud." I prefer "earbud" and Merriam-Webster is on my side.
Sunday, September 25, 2011
Saturday, September 24, 2011
A Year Of Writing
If I am to discover my voice, it will happen here, this year. I will write something each day, some days more than others, and some times editing a work in progress. I will write about what I see, hear, think about and feel on a variety of topics. This should be a challenge, since I haven't written anything here since February, but...
Today is my birthday, and I don't feel much like waxing philosophical. But I did look at the obits today and spotted a 69 year old who passed away. Don't get the wrong idea, I don't spend time looking there every day, I just landed there with my eyes open and that entry caught my eye. I never really think about whether there is a limit to the time I might have left. Instead I usually think of how much I have left to do. Among those things, is an unfulfilled wish to write--essays, speeches, fiction, anything at all. So here I go.
Today I thought about how much yoga is teaching me. The importance of remembering to breathe; to rest between periods of effort; humility, as I find myself unable to successfully complete a pose or stance (my teacher would scold me for that one--attempting is success, never making the attempt is failure); the fascinating process of muscle and brain "memory" that allows improvement with each day's effort. There's more, but I just realized I need to go tackle "Jim's daily dose" of yoga, as my teacher has dubbed it. See ya.
Today is my birthday, and I don't feel much like waxing philosophical. But I did look at the obits today and spotted a 69 year old who passed away. Don't get the wrong idea, I don't spend time looking there every day, I just landed there with my eyes open and that entry caught my eye. I never really think about whether there is a limit to the time I might have left. Instead I usually think of how much I have left to do. Among those things, is an unfulfilled wish to write--essays, speeches, fiction, anything at all. So here I go.
Today I thought about how much yoga is teaching me. The importance of remembering to breathe; to rest between periods of effort; humility, as I find myself unable to successfully complete a pose or stance (my teacher would scold me for that one--attempting is success, never making the attempt is failure); the fascinating process of muscle and brain "memory" that allows improvement with each day's effort. There's more, but I just realized I need to go tackle "Jim's daily dose" of yoga, as my teacher has dubbed it. See ya.
Saturday, February 12, 2011
What A Pain
My friend John spent New Year’s Eve this year in the cardiac unit at St. Joseph’s Hospital in Atlanta, while I was on a road trip. In light of the privacy issues involved I will call him “John Smith” for two reasons—to save him any embarrassment about the personal details I will be sharing, and because that is his name, John Smith. When I made it home and heard about his hospital stay, I called to see what had happened.
It all began when John ate a little too much and may have drunk a bit too much at a party the night after Christmas. He woke up at 3 AM with chest pains. He lay there for a while, he said to me later, “I was just laying there thinking that all this pain—just to let me know I had overdone it—is serving no purpose at all. I knew when I went to bed I had overdone it.”
John finally got up and spent the next 14 hours at a nearby hospital. The staff there found nothing wrong. When he left, they suggested he might want to follow up with a cardiologist. “I still see nothing for certain,” the cardiologist said after yet another battery of tests, “but just to make sure, why don’t I do a heart catheterization? Can you be at the hospital at 4:30 AM tomorrow?” Now, John’s a skeptic and his first thought was that this guy seemed in a hurry to make some money. He considered not doing it at all, but in the end he went ahead with the procedure.
I knew where this was going, and I was sure I’d be more than a little uncomfortable if I didn’t crack a joke or change the subject. Discussing events that remind me of my own mortality gives me the willies, it’s probably my age.
But a joke was out of the question, so I decided to share the story of my friend Adam, who works these days in Naples, Italy. He and John both knew a lot about two New Years things—being hospitalized this New Year’s Eve and fireworks. You see, John, when he’s not hospitalized on New Year’s Eve, by midnight has had a few too many and is happily shooting off fireworks out in front of his house. Adam knows about New Years fireworks from a different perspective.
In Naples, Adam decided to make some lasagna two days before New Year’s and cut off the end of his thumb. He was slicing onions, and he left a lot of his thumb on the cutting board in the kitchen as he ran for his phone. The paramedics took him and his thumb to the hospital. In the ER, they did what they usually do when you cut off that much of your thumb—they threw away the piece of thumb and told him he’d need skin graft surgery. Although they couldn’t perform the surgery until New Year’s Day, they admitted him right away. Adam said, “They told me at this time of year, you take the bed when you can get it and await your turn in surgery. If you don’t take the bed, by New Year’s Eve all the beds in the Hand Surgery Ward are filled up with young people who celebrated the New Year shooting off illegal fireworks.” The chief of surgery morbidly observed, “Dozens of them will blow their hands off at midnight.” Sure enough, Adam met some of them before he could get his turn in surgery.
Now that was a masterful job of brightening the mood, wasn’t it? John said, “Thanks for telling me about Adam. Now I know how it could have been worse, I could have blown off my hand shooting off fireworks, then had this problem. Now, will you let me finish my story?”
It gets worse. It seems that cardiac catheterizations are done with the patient fully conscious and following the process on TV monitors along with the doctor. What fun! Fifteen minutes into John’s session, the cardiologist has matter-of-factly showed John two blocked arteries, a nearly ruptured blood vessel, and indications of a problem with John’s right carotid artery. He wrapped things up early by saying, “I can’t finish this, I need to get you to surgery.” But he needed to look at those carotid arteries first, again with John conscious and observing the process. Less than 24 hours later, John had a new stent in his carotid artery, two new heart bypasses, a foot-long incision in his chest and piano wire wrapped around his sternum to hold him together.
OK, he’s gotten to me now—I am starting to feel pain in my chest, and I am standing stock still, petrified. “I could have died,” John told me, “but it was really odd, I wasn’t the least bit afraid—in fact I was fascinated with all of it.” My friend John Smith is now what they used to call “a little touched in the head.” The world is suddenly “fascinating” to him. He has had a guided tour of the inside of his chest, followed by an up close and personal look at the arteries supplying blood to his brain, and double bypass surgery. Fascinating, my foot.
Oh, and that pain he was bemoaning on the night after Christmas? It turns out the cardiologist calls John’s kind of problem “a widow-maker.” It often blows up with fatal consequences and no warning. That pain without a purpose? It saved his life.
It all began when John ate a little too much and may have drunk a bit too much at a party the night after Christmas. He woke up at 3 AM with chest pains. He lay there for a while, he said to me later, “I was just laying there thinking that all this pain—just to let me know I had overdone it—is serving no purpose at all. I knew when I went to bed I had overdone it.”
John finally got up and spent the next 14 hours at a nearby hospital. The staff there found nothing wrong. When he left, they suggested he might want to follow up with a cardiologist. “I still see nothing for certain,” the cardiologist said after yet another battery of tests, “but just to make sure, why don’t I do a heart catheterization? Can you be at the hospital at 4:30 AM tomorrow?” Now, John’s a skeptic and his first thought was that this guy seemed in a hurry to make some money. He considered not doing it at all, but in the end he went ahead with the procedure.
I knew where this was going, and I was sure I’d be more than a little uncomfortable if I didn’t crack a joke or change the subject. Discussing events that remind me of my own mortality gives me the willies, it’s probably my age.
But a joke was out of the question, so I decided to share the story of my friend Adam, who works these days in Naples, Italy. He and John both knew a lot about two New Years things—being hospitalized this New Year’s Eve and fireworks. You see, John, when he’s not hospitalized on New Year’s Eve, by midnight has had a few too many and is happily shooting off fireworks out in front of his house. Adam knows about New Years fireworks from a different perspective.
In Naples, Adam decided to make some lasagna two days before New Year’s and cut off the end of his thumb. He was slicing onions, and he left a lot of his thumb on the cutting board in the kitchen as he ran for his phone. The paramedics took him and his thumb to the hospital. In the ER, they did what they usually do when you cut off that much of your thumb—they threw away the piece of thumb and told him he’d need skin graft surgery. Although they couldn’t perform the surgery until New Year’s Day, they admitted him right away. Adam said, “They told me at this time of year, you take the bed when you can get it and await your turn in surgery. If you don’t take the bed, by New Year’s Eve all the beds in the Hand Surgery Ward are filled up with young people who celebrated the New Year shooting off illegal fireworks.” The chief of surgery morbidly observed, “Dozens of them will blow their hands off at midnight.” Sure enough, Adam met some of them before he could get his turn in surgery.
Now that was a masterful job of brightening the mood, wasn’t it? John said, “Thanks for telling me about Adam. Now I know how it could have been worse, I could have blown off my hand shooting off fireworks, then had this problem. Now, will you let me finish my story?”
It gets worse. It seems that cardiac catheterizations are done with the patient fully conscious and following the process on TV monitors along with the doctor. What fun! Fifteen minutes into John’s session, the cardiologist has matter-of-factly showed John two blocked arteries, a nearly ruptured blood vessel, and indications of a problem with John’s right carotid artery. He wrapped things up early by saying, “I can’t finish this, I need to get you to surgery.” But he needed to look at those carotid arteries first, again with John conscious and observing the process. Less than 24 hours later, John had a new stent in his carotid artery, two new heart bypasses, a foot-long incision in his chest and piano wire wrapped around his sternum to hold him together.
OK, he’s gotten to me now—I am starting to feel pain in my chest, and I am standing stock still, petrified. “I could have died,” John told me, “but it was really odd, I wasn’t the least bit afraid—in fact I was fascinated with all of it.” My friend John Smith is now what they used to call “a little touched in the head.” The world is suddenly “fascinating” to him. He has had a guided tour of the inside of his chest, followed by an up close and personal look at the arteries supplying blood to his brain, and double bypass surgery. Fascinating, my foot.
Oh, and that pain he was bemoaning on the night after Christmas? It turns out the cardiologist calls John’s kind of problem “a widow-maker.” It often blows up with fatal consequences and no warning. That pain without a purpose? It saved his life.
Friday, January 28, 2011
Transmogrification in Chicago
Transmogrification noun: the act of changing or altering greatly, often with grotesque or humorous effect.
I grew up in Chicago, a while ago. I spent a little more than half my life so far there. That experience has given me a special perspective on transmogrification and it's time I shared it with you.
Not everyone knows this, but the Chicago Bears were among the founding members of the NFL and today they remain the only franchise in history to accumulate 700 wins. But my years in Chicago coincided with perhaps the lowest point in their storied history. Sure, they won the championship in 1963, but just my luck, that was the year before my parents allowed a TV into our house. After that, the Bears spent 13 long years without reaching the playoffs, and only twice had a winning record. Why? Well, I think it was a growing scourge I call QB transmogrification, visible to the naked eye only during playoff games.
The Bears finally made it to the playoffs again in 1977, and the first in a series of strange events took place. After leading the Bears to the playoffs, their quarterback, Bob Avellini, threw four interceptions against the Dallas Cowboys, setting a team record for interceptions in a playoff game--in a word, he was transmogrified. In 1979, the Bears were once again in the playoffs. This time, QB Mike Phipps was driving the team for the winning touchdown, only to throw his 2nd interception of the game in the end zone--transmogrified.
In 1982, the Bears drafted another quarterback, this one from Brigham Young University, Jim McMahon. McMahon had a knack for playing the game and was soon succeeding like few others had before him. He quickly established himself as the starter.
But the transmogrifications continued. In the playoffs following the 1984 season, with starter McMahon out for the season, backup QB Steve Fuller was sacked 9 times and threw an interception. The Bears were shut out, Fuller transmogrified. But why am I calling all of these events "transmogrifications?" What would you call it when a Bear suddenly and grotesquely turns into a goat?
I moved away to Atlanta the following Spring. What do you think happened next? Along came the 1985 Bears, led by Hall of Famers Dan Hampton, Mike Singletary and Walter Payton, with colorful QB Jim McMahon and track star-turned wide receiver, Willie Gault. They finished the season 15 and 1, and went on to win their first Super Bowl. My punishment.
It took 21 years, with numerous quarterbacks undergoing transmogrification along the way, but the Bears once again reached the Super Bowl in 2006 on the strength of their defense and a marvelous rookie kick returner by the name of Devin Hester. There the Bears' QB, Rex Grossman, coming off a breakout season in which he threw for more than 3,000 yards and 23 touchdowns, transmogrified just the same. He fumbled twice and threw two interceptions, one for a touchdown. The Bears lost.
Then, in 2009, the Bears made a blockbuster trade for a new quarterback, Jay Cutler. The following year, they hired a new offensive coordinator, Mike Martz, and signed three free agents, including Julius Peppers, committing $100MM to the task. The investments paid off. The Bears were crowned champs of the NFC North, and last Sunday, they played for the conference championship and the right to return to the Super Bowl. You probably already guessed this, but that quarterback, Cutler? He transmogrified--this time into a pussycat, leaving at the half with an injured knee. Their 3rd string guy, Caleb Hanie, came in and took over the goat--I mean quarterback--position, throwing an interception to a 400 lb. nose tackle he "didn't see" standing in front of his intended receiver. The 400 lb. guy ran it back for the winning touchdown.
Transmogrification is all over the entertainment sector these days, with the Twilight series and a new TV show "Being Human" about a ghost, a vampire and a werewolf sharing an apartment.
But there's one more grotesque change that takes place now and again, you can guess what it is. It's me, I change from an ordinary human to a Bear (fan, that is) and I sing--
I grew up in Chicago, a while ago. I spent a little more than half my life so far there. That experience has given me a special perspective on transmogrification and it's time I shared it with you.
Not everyone knows this, but the Chicago Bears were among the founding members of the NFL and today they remain the only franchise in history to accumulate 700 wins. But my years in Chicago coincided with perhaps the lowest point in their storied history. Sure, they won the championship in 1963, but just my luck, that was the year before my parents allowed a TV into our house. After that, the Bears spent 13 long years without reaching the playoffs, and only twice had a winning record. Why? Well, I think it was a growing scourge I call QB transmogrification, visible to the naked eye only during playoff games.
The Bears finally made it to the playoffs again in 1977, and the first in a series of strange events took place. After leading the Bears to the playoffs, their quarterback, Bob Avellini, threw four interceptions against the Dallas Cowboys, setting a team record for interceptions in a playoff game--in a word, he was transmogrified. In 1979, the Bears were once again in the playoffs. This time, QB Mike Phipps was driving the team for the winning touchdown, only to throw his 2nd interception of the game in the end zone--transmogrified.
In 1982, the Bears drafted another quarterback, this one from Brigham Young University, Jim McMahon. McMahon had a knack for playing the game and was soon succeeding like few others had before him. He quickly established himself as the starter.
But the transmogrifications continued. In the playoffs following the 1984 season, with starter McMahon out for the season, backup QB Steve Fuller was sacked 9 times and threw an interception. The Bears were shut out, Fuller transmogrified. But why am I calling all of these events "transmogrifications?" What would you call it when a Bear suddenly and grotesquely turns into a goat?
I moved away to Atlanta the following Spring. What do you think happened next? Along came the 1985 Bears, led by Hall of Famers Dan Hampton, Mike Singletary and Walter Payton, with colorful QB Jim McMahon and track star-turned wide receiver, Willie Gault. They finished the season 15 and 1, and went on to win their first Super Bowl. My punishment.
It took 21 years, with numerous quarterbacks undergoing transmogrification along the way, but the Bears once again reached the Super Bowl in 2006 on the strength of their defense and a marvelous rookie kick returner by the name of Devin Hester. There the Bears' QB, Rex Grossman, coming off a breakout season in which he threw for more than 3,000 yards and 23 touchdowns, transmogrified just the same. He fumbled twice and threw two interceptions, one for a touchdown. The Bears lost.
Then, in 2009, the Bears made a blockbuster trade for a new quarterback, Jay Cutler. The following year, they hired a new offensive coordinator, Mike Martz, and signed three free agents, including Julius Peppers, committing $100MM to the task. The investments paid off. The Bears were crowned champs of the NFC North, and last Sunday, they played for the conference championship and the right to return to the Super Bowl. You probably already guessed this, but that quarterback, Cutler? He transmogrified--this time into a pussycat, leaving at the half with an injured knee. Their 3rd string guy, Caleb Hanie, came in and took over the goat--I mean quarterback--position, throwing an interception to a 400 lb. nose tackle he "didn't see" standing in front of his intended receiver. The 400 lb. guy ran it back for the winning touchdown.
Transmogrification is all over the entertainment sector these days, with the Twilight series and a new TV show "Being Human" about a ghost, a vampire and a werewolf sharing an apartment.
But there's one more grotesque change that takes place now and again, you can guess what it is. It's me, I change from an ordinary human to a Bear (fan, that is) and I sing--
Bear down, Chicago Bears, make every play clear the
way for victory.Bear down, Chicago Bears, put up a fight with a might so
fearlessly.We'll never forget the way you thrilled
the nation, with your T-formation.Bear down, Chicago Bears and let them
know why you're wearing the crown.You're the pride and joy of
Illinois. Chicago Bears, bear down.
Thursday, December 23, 2010
Socks On My Mind
Today I stepped out of my car to buy a paper and noticed something scary. I was wearing white socks and loafers. I stopped doing that in high school because it was so uncool, and now--- Who knows what's next. I called my sister with Merry Christmas on my mind and wound up sharing my horror about the white socks incident and she pointed out the only thing worse is wearing dark socks and shorts. I guess no matter how bad things are, things can always get worse. I say just shoot me if it ever gets that bad.
The question is, who will keep an eye on those things and punch my ticket when it needs to be done? No, not my dear spouse, I don't trust her with a responsibility like that--she is the sole beneficiary on my life insurance and pension, etc. I am almost afraid to go to sleep at night as it is.
I remember a novel with the plot line that someone orders a hit on himself, then wants to change his mind. Is that what would happen with me and the socks? No way! I will have taken leave of my senses if I wear dark socks and shorts, so revoking "the contract" would probably not even come to mind. Let me know if you will volunteer to cover this base and put me out of my misery if it comes to the point where I am wearing them. It's a job that needs doing.
The question is, who will keep an eye on those things and punch my ticket when it needs to be done? No, not my dear spouse, I don't trust her with a responsibility like that--she is the sole beneficiary on my life insurance and pension, etc. I am almost afraid to go to sleep at night as it is.
I remember a novel with the plot line that someone orders a hit on himself, then wants to change his mind. Is that what would happen with me and the socks? No way! I will have taken leave of my senses if I wear dark socks and shorts, so revoking "the contract" would probably not even come to mind. Let me know if you will volunteer to cover this base and put me out of my misery if it comes to the point where I am wearing them. It's a job that needs doing.
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
Return Bear
He stands alone now, although I think he was already unforgettable. Again and again in 2006 he caught people off guard, until they began to fear him. Once that fear took root, they all just avoided him. Avoiding him was preferred to letting him even have the chance to beat you. Avoiding him cost people territory every time. The habit became so entrenched that nobody thought twice about the territory they were giving away. Until the mighty Colts decided they were not afraid. So, the opening kick in the 2006 Super Bowl landed right in his arms, and he taught them to be afraid again. As if they were surprised, they watched him sprint 92 yards for a touchdown. Last night, he "bearly" missed breaking Brian Mitchell's record of 13 kick returns for TD's, being stopped at the 6-yard line after returning a kickoff 79 yards. The announcers had barely finished recounting some of the highlights of his career as a kick returner, when he grabbed a punt and returned it 64 yards for a touchdown. If you get a chance, go to the Chicago Bears' web site and see the compilation of his fourteen TD's in just five seasons. As the Bears' announcers put it—he is ridiculously good. The Return Bear from Chicago.
Sunday, December 19, 2010
A Christmas Carol
How many of us know the story of Ebenezer Scrooge? What do you think of when it comes to mind? I remember the old(est) movie, which dates back to 1938 and included June Lockhart in the cast. It turns out there have been seven movies, including Jim Carrey's Disney version from 2009. Whatever version comes to your mind, if you're like me, you are mostly recalling film adaptations and not the book. Oh, I know everyone remembers that it is based on Charles Dickens' novella of the same name first published in 1843. It appeared, to critical acclaim, just a few days before Christmas in 1843 (167 years ago today, in fact), and was immediately popular. You may not know this, but Dickens is credited with popularizing the term most of us have known all our lives— "Merry Christmas" (Wordplay: origins, meanings, and usage of the English language. University of Toronto Press, Robertson Cochrane 1996). Of course, he also created the terms "Scrooge" and "Bah, Humbug" that are in common usage today. But I mention all this because I have made it a practice in recent years to pick up the book itself and reread all or part of it. It is a remarkable piece of writing, and has far more depth than Albert Finney, Bill Murray or Jim Carrey provide on the screen. Pick it up and read it, if you have any time for reading this season. I think I downloaded it onto my Kindle for free as it is a public domain book.
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