It's gone...

Above picture taken @ 8:50 am cst, 12/9/05

At approximately 12:44 am early Wednesday morning, the final section of Busch Memorial Stadium (home of the St. Louis Cardinals baseball club) in St. Louis, MO. came crashing down...

Allow me a moment to pause for reflection...

This is a milestone in my life... having been born in the St Louis area and being a Cardinals fan for as long as I can remember, I am... sad.

Rather than subject myself to having to write another post about the destruction of a childhood and adulthood icon, I present to you a post I wrote a few months ago about my special memories of the stadium. Enjoy...


Originally posted September 30, 2005

Sunday October 2, 2005, the St Louis Cardinals will play their final regular-season game at Busch Memorial Stadium…though, fittingly, they are in the playoffs this year, so Busch will be spared the wrecking ball for a few weeks (hopefully many more weeks - Go Redbirds!!).

Having been born (and for the first 11 years of my life) raised and still constantly visiting family and friends in the St Louis area, this day is an emotional one for me.

Because of this, I have decided that today's blog entry will be about Busch Stadium, and the memory(ies) of mind that stand out the most.

The Gateway Arch reaches into the St Louis skyline, easily visible above Busch Stadium. It stands there like, in the words of The Sporting News, “an ever-vigilant sentry guarding its St. Louis treasures. Jewels, past and present, like Bob Gibson, Lou Brock, Joe Torre, Ted Simmons, Bob Forsch, Ozzie Smith, Willie McGee, Mark McGwire and Albert Pujols. Diamond memories of Cardinals, Clydesdales, baseball magic and World Series moments, all colored in a sea of red.” (I couldn’t have said it any better myself)

Outside the stadium the bronze statues of Stan "The Man" Musial, Gibson, Brock, Enos Slaughter, Red Schoendienst and Jack Buck, strategically placed outside the stadium, sit ready to greet visitors and provoke inspiration. In recent years, the team has added smaller sculptures of other players, such as Dizzy Dean, Bob Gibson, and my favorite all-time Cardinal, Ozzie “Wizard of Oz” Smith.

From its 1966 opening through its impressive, and awe-inspiring facelift in the 90’s, Busch has carried the tag of a "cookie-cutter" stadium. It was the first of the sterile, boringly symmetrical, Astro-Turfed, multi-purpose facilities that sprang up in the late 1960s and '70s alongside Pittsburgh’s Three Rivers, Cincinnati’s Riverfront, and Philadelphia’s Veterans, along with many others.

The early Busch Stadium experience was Bob Gibson and Tim McCarver, Dal Maxvill, Joe Torre and Orlando Cepeda, Lou Brock and Vince Coleman, Ozzie Smith and Tommy Herr, Jack Clark and Keith Hernandez, Terry Pendleton and Al Simmons, George Hendrick and Willie McGee, John Tudor and Joaquin Andujar. It was waves of red, line drives into the gap, a man-eating automatic tarp, the Wizard of Oz, Whitey-Ball, Harry Caray, Jack Buck and Mike Shannon in the broadcast booth.

It was a massive two-sectioned scoreboard, one side occupied by an Anheuser-Busch eagle, the other by an electronic Redbird that flew back and forth during a seventh-inning stretch or in recognition of a Cardinals home run. It was team owner August A. Busch triumphantly circling the stadium in a beer wagon pulled by a team of Clydesdales, or an Ozzie Smith back flip.

It was beautiful.

There were no unusual angles, dimensions or nuances to spice up play. Dimensions were standard: 330 feet down both lines and 386 to the power alleys. Center field was 414 (later 404) and the AstroTurf, installed in 1970, was hard and fast.

Supporting the Cardinals meant appreciating the aggressiveness and fundamentals of the game, and, of course, the stolen base, which Brock and Coleman turned into lethal offensive weapons. The home run was a 70’s and 80’s afterthought. Whitey Herzog's 1982 world champions hit 67 homers (three fewer than Mark McGwire hit in his record-setting 1998 season) while recording 200 steals.

Further into the 90’s, new ownership, no longer content to let one of baseball's premier franchises play in a no-frills setting, retro-fitted Busch Stadium into one of the fan-friendliest playgrounds in the game.

The turf was replaced by grass. One area, decorated by flags, celebrated the retired numbers in Cardinals history. The bullpens were moved from the first and third base foul lines to areas behind the left and right field fences. And a more modern scoreboard in left-center was mirrored by a replay/highlights screen in right-center.

Any fan that had not been to a game since the 70’s might not have recognized the new Busch; sleek and modern the stadium became an attraction on its own merit. The house that a beer baron had built in 1966 was officially transformed into a warm, inviting for the best baseball fans in the world.

Trying to pick one favorite memory of Busch Stadium is hard. So I have picked two because, well, it’s my blog and I can do what I want. Also, because they are special to me for different reasons.

While I remember going to Cardinal games when I was younger (me dressed like a Cardinal geek – red shirts, red shorts, red hat, cardinal socks, cardinal sunglasses - I was a sight to see) with my parents and brother, or just my dad. The memories I remember most are much more recent.

Last season, 2004, the Cardinals made into the World Series for the first time since 1987 (a very long draught for a Cardinal fan, nothing of interest for a Cub fan). I was excited. My brother (who is not particularly a fan of sports) was excited. Our excitement grew larger when our Dad called and said our cousin has two tickets for Game 4 on Wednesday, October 27th and wanted to know if my brother and I wanted them.I was dumbfounded.

I couldn’t speak. I was speechless (that means the same thing I know, but stay with me here)

We jumped at the chance. So my memory is getting to the game very early, about 2 hours before game time. The plaza was jumping with a carnival-like atmosphere. Vendors selling food and beverages or novelties and souvenirs. Radio and TV stations handing out signs and rally flags.

It was incredible.

Then the game started. Our seats were in the last row. Literally, we could look behind us and see the city of St Louis. High up yes, but still with a great view of the field and the fans.

(The only negative thing about our seats was we were sitting next to two Red Sox fans. Now, I love sitting with Cub fans, whether it be Wrigley or Busch, because, while we may make fun of the other’s team, there was a mutual respect in there as well. Not so with these two schmucks. Think of the epitome of ego-filled baseball fans and you immediately conjure up images of Yankees fans. These two were like Yankees fans, rude, belligerent, loud, but were rooting for the Red Sox. Add to that that they used the overused and annoying phrase from Joe Buck’s commercial where he says” Slamma-lama-ding-dong.” Every other word out of their mouths was that phrase. By the 4th inning, my brother and I wanted to ‘Slamma-lama-ding-dong’ them back to Boston Harbor…but I digress.)

While the Cardinals suffered a rather impressive lack of hitting and pitching, just the fact that I was at a World Series game for the team I have followed for as long as I can remember, was incredible and etched in my mind forever.

The second moment was this past year when my wife and I, along with my brother and his girlfriend, took my twin daughters to their first Cardinal game. At the tender age of three, they behaved better than I could have possibly hoped. They sat on our laps and watched the game (who lost to the Atlanta Braves – notice a theme here? All of my Cardinal memories have the Cardinals losing the game in the background…) with an intensity and attention that is rarely seen in one three year old, let alone twin three year olds who always have a playmate with them wherever they go.

The fact I was there with my wife and children and my brother and (someday sister-in-law) his girlfriend, made the day that much better. To be able to have my daughters (who since they had been born had been having the phrase: ‘Go Cardinals!’ burned into their minds by myself) experience a game at Busch in the final season was a special thing for me. While they may not remember it all, I will.

And those are my two special memories. As I look back on my relationship with the stadium, I am filled with remorse, but also with hope that the new stadium will be as warm and inviting as the old one. And if it isn’t, it eventually will be.

Goodbye old friend…

December 8, 1980

What happened here
As the new york sunset disappeared
I found an empty garden among the flagstones there

Who lived here
He must have been a gardener that cared a lot
Who weeded out the tears and grew a good crop
And now it all looks strange
It’s funny how one insect can damage so much grain

And what’s it for
This little empty garden by the brownstone door
And in the cracks along the sidewalk nothing grows no more

Who lived here
He must have been a gardener that cared a lot
Who weeded out the tears and grew a good crop

And we are so amazed we’re crippled and we’re dazed
A gardener like that one no one can replace

And I’ve been knocking but no one answers

And I’ve been knocking most all the day

Oh and I’ve been calling oh hey hey johnny
Can’t you come out to play

And through their tears
Some say he farmed his best in younger years
But he’d have said that roots grow stronger if only he could hear

Who lived there
He must have been a gardener that cared a lot
Who weeded out the tears and grew a good crop

Now we pray for rain, and with every drop that falls
We hear, we hear your name

Johnny can’t you come out to play in your empty garden
- Lyrics by bernie taupin

December 7, 1941

'A date which will live in infamy...'

Christmas Traditions

Potlatch: 'pät-"lach. Function: noun. A ceremonial feast of the American Indians of the northwest coast marked by the host's lavish distribution of gifts or sometimes destruction of property to demonstrate wealth and generosity with the expectation of eventual reciprocation. (See another definition from Wikipedia, here)

My family is not of Native-American ancestry, we are of Spanish blood, but every year we partake in a tradition that has its roots in the above-mentioned, Northwest-Coast Native American ceremonies of the past.

From even before I was born all those years ago (Thanks Mr. Harrison) my Dad’s family (along with my Grandmother on my Mom’s side – if she weren’t visiting her other child, my Uncle Warren & his family, in OK) would gather for Christmas Eve. First at my Aunt Adele and my Uncle Nishan’s house in Fairmont City (IL) then their house in Edwardsville (IL), and within the last 5 years at my parent’s house in Edwardsville.

It was a festive gathering… filled with food, presents, drinks and love. (I know, the last word makes it sound a tad corny, but it’s the truth)

First, the food. (Hmmmmm, fooooood, aaaaaahhhhhhh) It was absolutely incredible; fried chicken, rice pilaf, chorizo (spanish sausage), Spanish potato salad, Spanish Chicken and Rice, shrimp and roast beef & gravy (my mouth waters just thinking about it). Add to that my Aunt Dorothy's special punch (non-alcoholic for the kids) and it was something that a kid would never forget.

Than, the most important Christmas thing for kids, the presents... talk about opulence.

Rather than draw up a long-winded assessment of a few special memories (and realizing we are living in an era of incredibly short attention spans) I present some to you in Bullet Form:

• One year, my (older) brother Al, and a few of our
  cousins, each received a RCA Studio 2 gaming system. A picture of the console is to the right --->
• Sometimes, someone in my family or a family friend would dress-up as Santa Claus and deliver one present to every child there
• After my family moved from Fairmont City to Marion, IL (City Slogan: 'Marion: home of Marion Federal Prison and... no, sorry, that's all we got') we continued to attend the Christmas Eve festivities. The four of us (my mom and dad and my brother and I) would get there, celebrate, eat, unwrap presents, then climb into the car for the 2 hour drive home. After we moved to Peoria we did the same thing, adding an hour to the travel time. We never considered stopping (at least to my knowledge we never discussed stopping) and to this day the drive holds some of the best family moments of my life.
• Early on in this tradition, there was a sense of having to outdo each other. You see, unlike now, we did NOT draw names for the adults, gifts were bought for EVERYONE!!! Every single person got gifts for every other single person... it was an absolutely lavish concept. Here's an example: if Uncle 'Z' gave Nephew 'X' two Transformers (more than meets the eye you know...), then Uncle 'Y' had to give that nephew three of them... though, speaking from a child's perspective, it was a jackpot. Now, we have altered it to the adults drawing names with a price limit and everyone gets the kids something; so it has mellowed as we have ALL gotten older.
• The house. My Aunt Adele & Uncle Nishan hosted the event from its inception up to 2000 when my parents moved back to Edwardsville and bought a large house for the purpose of being able to host family events and parties for friends. Even though my Aunt & Uncle's house in Fairmont was small (they had one child and them so they never saw the need for a really big house) we would all be there. I am talking about anywhere from 50-75 people in a house that was probably 1000 square feet. Years later, my Aunt and Uncle moved to a slightly larger house (1300 square feet) in Edwardsville and continued to host Seating may have been at a premium (you get up from the coveted couch seat, you lose it; 'no saves knucklehead!' as my cousin Ray would say)
• The year we played a trick on my Aunt Dorothy, who has a long-lasting fear of mice. One year, my family and I decided to play on that for her present. We bought a rubber mouse, an old-fashioned mousetrap, and my mom added some fake jewels to it to make it look all nice and pretty. Then we put the rubber mouse's head in the snap. Wrapped it, and presented it to her that night. She opened it and boom! She was gone in a flash, like there was an Aunt Dorothy-shaped hole in the wall of the house where she burst out. Classic, priceless stuff.
• There's also something about my brother falling (though he maintains he was "pushed" by one of our cousins) into the Christmas tree one year, though I was asked to leave that out of this post and... oops, sorry Al... my bad.

These are all some of the Christmas memories I have of the past, each one special, each one unique, and each one that I will never forget.

Now, with a wife and two children, I am busy making new memories with the three of them.

Almost gone...

Ho-ho-ho

After noticing a few other DadBloggers doing this (MetroDad via DadCentric and Mr. Big Dubya also via DadCentric) I wanted to share with all of you (since it IS the season of sharing and giving) my favorite holid— (sorry, let me rephrase that, lest I get a phone call from House Speaker Dennis Hastert) my favorite Christmas movies.

Some classic, some irreverent, and some that’ll make ya ask; ‘How the hell is that a Christmas movie?’

One has to love the Christmas season. The sales, the commercialization (if I see one more reference to Chriskwanzakkah or Festivus, I’m gonna scream… or go postal… or both) and the eerie-workings of a man who knows all and sees all (or as Calvin once put it, “Santa Claus: kindly old elf, or CIA spook?”)

What I really look forward to though is the surfeit of Christmas movies. We all know them and welcome them; those shows and/or movies you see that make you realize that Christmas is just around the corner and will be here before you know it.

So here’s my list of my favorite Christmas movies, complete with links to Internet Movie Database (IMDB)…

“How the Grinch Stole Christmas” – My all-time favorite, and I am referring to the animated version, NOT the train wreck of one caused by Ron Howard and Jim Carrey, that one, in the words of Bart Simpson, ‘both sucks and blows’. Boris Karloff is excellent as the narrator, with his unique voice booming classic lines such as “All the Whos down in Whoville liked Christmas a lot, but the Grinch, who lived just north of Whoville, did not,” and “He puzzled and puzzled till his puzzler was sore. Then the Grinch thought of something he hadn't before! Maybe Christmas, he thought, doesn't come from a store. Maybe Christmas... perhaps... means a little bit more!” Plus, I portrayed the Grinch in a 7th grade play… and I was ‘da bomb’… though back then that phrase meant there was a bomb somewhere…

“A Christmas Story” – An 11-year old, a Red Ryder BB gun, Chinese duck for Christmas dinner and the Bumpus hounds. An instant classic (though I have heard that watching 24-hours of the movie will cause one to go mad) that has aged well. And let’s not forget that the kid who played Flick (Scott Schwartz, who also starred in The Toy with Richard Pryor & Jackie Gleason) later became a porn star before retiring in 2000 in order to try and break back into mainstream films… still hasn’t happened.

“The Santa Clause” – Tim Allen at his best (and I use that term loosely). Original and funny. The only problem with this is the incredibly inferior sequel, “The Santa Clause 2”. Now comes word that they have made/are making a part 3… God help us all…

“Scrooged” – an update of “A Christmas Carol” with a decisive comic-twist and an excellent performance by Bill Murray, Carol Kane and John Forsythe. Best quote from the movie: “The bitch hit me with a toaster.”

“A Charlie Brown Christmas” – the music, the dancing, the beautiful oratory by Linus. And let’s face it… when the theme music starts, how many of us start doing the ‘Snoopy dance’… you know what I’m talking about…

“It’s a Wonderful Life” – I know, I know. It’s trite and overdone and overly analyzed, and I think it is one of THE most overrated movies to make it onto AFI’s Top 100 films, but having said that… it is a classic, and no Christmas season seems complete without at least one viewing of it. Besides, it’s also fun to turn the volume down and make up your own dialog… and Jimmy Stewart has to be the worst actor/singer not named William Shatner in the history of cinema.

“Miracle on 34th Street” – The original from 1947. Not the hokey 1994 version and CERTAINLY NOT the 1973 TV-version with David Hartman (whomever green lit that one should be shot by the way). Pure entertainment; Maureen O’Hara, Edmund Gwenn and a young Natalie Wood are all phenomenal. It’s simply an amazing film with a very good message: believe in what you want to believe in regardless of what others say. (And let’s hope they don’t remake it again because I know they’d cast Dakota Fanning as the girl, and I would NOT be able to forgive anyone for that… ever…)

“Die Hard” – Ok, maybe not ‘technically’ a Christmas movie per se, but think about it… the action occurs on Christmas Eve, has quoting of Santa Claus… and it’s an incredible update of “It’s a Wonderful Life.” Yes, you read that right, and if you don’t believe me read MetroDad’s take on it and tell me (and him) we’re wrong. I never thought of it myself until I read his post… and he’s right…

And finally, all the classic, animated/claymation movies like: “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer”, “Santa Claus is Coming to Town”, “The Year Without a Santa Claus” and “Frosty the Snowman” – Produced by Rankin-Bass and starring such luminaries as Burl Ives (who attended my alma mater Eastern Illinois University and got the art studio named for him), Fred Astaire, Mickey Rooney, Shirley Booth. With memorable characters like Yukon Cornelius, Charlie-in-the-Box, Heat Miser and his brother Snow Miser, Burgermeister Meisterburger, Winter Walock, etc. There’s even a boxed set now that I know I better get the Missus or I’ll be sleeping on the couch come Christmas evening.

And as an extra bonus, the WORST Christmas movie ever made…

“Christmas with the Kranks” – the most unfunny, convoluted, idiotic, worst-book-to-movie-adaptation, pile of crap EVER put on film. Talk about 2 hours of my life I’ll never get back… (the movie itself is only 1.5 hours, but it took about 30 minutes to regain my intelligence and gray-matter) I could literally feel my brain losing brain cells while watching it. If you ever have an opportunity to throw a movie into a fire, this should be that movie. John Grisham, whose book: Skipping Christmas was the basis for the movie, ought to sue screenwriter Chris Columbus for defamation of talent.

You can mention “Jingle all the Way” and “Surviving Christmas”, but trust me when I say this one has them ALL beat. If you don’t believe me, rent it for yourself and find out the hard way.

Just don’t say I didn’t warn you.

A couple days off

After taking a few days off from writing for the Thanksgiving Holiday, I am back on this cool and thoroughly wet Sunday night… well, Sunday while I’m writing this, but Monday by the time I actually post it.

You may be asking yourself what I did these past few days? Well, lemme tell ya:

• Ate WAY too much turkey, stuffing and potatoes (no yams for me, I just can’t bring myself to eat something that has the same color as Lucille Ball’s hair…) Not to mention too much wine… some really, really good wine though.
• Watched the hated Dallas Cowboys lose to Denver in Turkey-Day Football. At least one of the two games was entertaining…(why the ‘hated’ Dallas Cowboys? Cuz’ that’s how I was raised; to hate, abhor, detest and loathe the Dallas Cowboys… and Notre Dame)
• Went Christmas shopping… on Friday afternoon… the day after Thanksgiving… [Shudder] I’m still having nightmares about it…(Though I was NOT one of the crazy people who got up before dawn to shop… and if you were one of the crazies, my apologies. I did get a great deal on my wife’s present though… a new digital camera and printer-dock. And don’t worry, she knows about it already, so her reading this won’t ruin the surprise)
• Purchased “Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban” for only $5 at Target and, while watching it, realized that Alfonso Cuarón is a brilliant director…
• Decided what to get the twins for Christmas. (Ever since their Abuelo, my Dad, got his corvette, they have wanted one. In fact, every time someone asks them what they want for Christmas, they reply; ‘corvette’. So, that’s what they’re getting, a toy, motorized corvette that they can drive around in. And thus the madness begins…)
• Dropped hints to my wife about what I would like for Christmas… hint: it starts with the letter ‘i’ and ends with the letter ‘d,’ with ‘Po’ in the middle…(I know the best part of Christmas is the giving… and we have gotten friends and family some truly wonderful gifts this year, the same for our daughters, who will be very happy on Christmas morning. Having said that, I dropped hints because she was trolling for present possibilities, and I had to comply… right?)
• Hung Christmas lights and decorations outside (the weather was so nice I just had to do it Saturday; though I have NOT turned them on yet… and won’t until December 1st. BUT… all the lights are up, my inflatable Homer is up, and the inflatable snowman family is up. I just need to get another extension cord so I can plug them all in and fire ‘em up this Thursday… and not a minute sooner. And yes, for those of you wondering, Homer is me and the other three are my wife and daughters)
• Found all the inside Christmas decorations, but we can’t put them up yet until we paint the kitchen (the remodeling is finally done) and the dining room this weekend… yay, what fun.
• Had the twins’ Christmas picture (part 1) taken with the cousins (9 kids… oldest is 13, oungest is 5 months… you can all imagine how that went… [Shudder])
• Realized, while watching snippets of “Charlie and the Chocolate Factory”, that Tim Burton is taking some truly amazing drugs. How he comes up with some of his visions confounds me…
• Went to the Ringling Bros. Barnum & Bailey Circus in Chicago with my wife’s family… all 18 of ‘em. (The circus was entertaining, but I maintain my position that clowns are evil… pure, unadulterated evil…much like this guy)
• Ordered my daughters a gift that I had wanted to get them for some time. They weren’t available for their birthday, and they had been hard to find for the last few months… then I found a website that had them in stock. What are they you ask? Plush Star Wars lightsabers… one green for the oldest who likes Yoda, and one red for the one who likes Darth Vader. (Yes, they are only three years old and I have already showed them 5 of the 6 films – no Revenge of the Sith yet as I still think a few scenes may be too much for them. I.E. Palpatine’s face getting scarred by his force-lighting, Anakin and his implied-slaying of the Jedi Younglings, a few beheadings… things like that)

That’s about it… well-packed 4-day break if you ask me.

Back to work on Monday… with only 26 days until Christmas…no need to panic just yet…

Shout Out!

"As God as my witness... I thought turkeys could fly..."

To you and yours, have a safe and Happy Thanksgiving!!

A Flashback of Babies (Part 2)

PART 2

Immediately I ran over to talk to my boss and he, seeing the look on my face, told me to get the hell out of there...

Already having a phone list and an order in which to call people the minute I got into my car. First call: my mother-in-law in Kankakee. I call her, and tell her the babies were here.

At first, she did not believe me, thinking that I was pulling a prank (for those of you wondering; yes, I could see myself doing that) But, after hearing my voice and checking her caller id and seeing a University of Chicago phone number, she stated that she and my father-in-law would leave as soon as he got home from work in about 10 minutes.

I then called my parents and they jumped in their car and began the 4-hour trip to Chicago from St. Louis to see their first (two) grandchildren.

Worried that I, or any other family member, was not going to be there when my wife woke up, I called my brother (a professor) at his DePaul University office in downtown Chicago. Without a moment’s hesitation, he hopped into a cab and rushed over to the hospital to be with his sister-in-law when she woke up. (For that, my wife and I can never thank him enough.)

Because this was, in medical terms, a ‘Crash C-Section’, my wife was put to sleep and an IV inserted. Dr. Ismail was at a meeting elsewhere on campus and, from what we were told, bolted out of the meeting when he was told the Mono/Mono twins were coming. He got there in time and delivered them both, skillfully and with a very modest incision, at 4:19 PM on May 22, 2002.

My wife and I were told later that ‘Baby A’ came out crying and that ‘Baby B’ came out floppy and unresponsive – meaning she had to be given oxygen immediately after birth. Additionally, there were five/six knots in her cord and a twin-to-twin transfusion had occurred. She was the baby that began to decell upstairs.

My twins came into the world at 4 pounds, 14 ounces and 4 pounds, 3 ounces. Very good weights for 8-week premature, mono/mono twins.

I arrived at the hospital about 2 hours after I heard the initial call at home – traffic, of course, being worse than usual. I parked the car and ran (faster than I have ever run before) into the hospital. Upon entering the Lying-In center, I saw my brother walking out of the Labor and Delivery department while reaching for his cell phone. My wife had woken up and was very happy to see a family member staring back at her, even though they did mistake him for the father and showed him a picture of the (very large) placenta…that is something that I know he will never forget. Exchange between him and an intern: “Ever seen a placenta that large?” “Not since breakfast.”

Because my wife had had an emergency c-section, she was, essentially, knocked out and woozy for the rest of the day/night. This meant that she would not be able to see our children until the next day. Again, my brother to the rescue.

He is an amatuer photographer, never leaves home without his camera, and had already taken a plethora of pictures of the girls. So he went out and got then developed so my wife could see them. Why is this special you ask? Well, the University of Chicago Hospital is NOT in the best neighborhood of Chicago... so it was a tad, I don't want to say dangerous... but you get the idea, for him to walk the streets to get some pictures developed... but got them developed he did, and my wife and I truly appreciated it.

The next three and a half weeks my daughters were living in the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit (NICU) at the University of Chicago Hospital while my wife and I lived next door in the Ronald McDonald house. The care they received at the NICU was above par and words cannot express how much they were cared for and tended to. The care my wife and I received at the Ronald McDonald House was also phenomenal and has become our number one charity to give and ask donations for... (hint, hint)

On the first day they were both on oxygen and had a feeding tube with 'Baby A' having her oxygen taken out first, followed by Baby B the next day. The feeding tubes stayed in about a week.

Additionally, both girls were in incubators in order to keep their temperature maintained and to monitor their heart and pulse. Every time the alarm went off, my wife and I immediately jumped, but the nurses, knowing how sensitive those things were, calmly checked on them and then sedated us.

After one week, they both started to feed off a bottle and were not receiving any oxygen assistance.

The girls had many tests while they were in the hospital, and passed each one with flying colors. The only issue was that one of them (the one born floppy and unresponsive) was having some trouble maintaining her temperature at times, but, since that was the only issue, they decided that the girls could be released. They would be moved from the NICU at the University of Chicago to the NICU at our home hospital, Provena St. Mary’s. (I would have preferred Riverside, but we all know how insurance companies are...)

The day of their move, the girls were each placed in a portable incubator (that looked like it was a centuries-old iron lung) and placed in an ambulance with drivers who obviously had no idea how to drive. My wife rode home with them in the ambulance while I followed in our 'chase' car.
After being at St. Mary’s for two days, they were both maintaining their temperature and overall doing well, so they were released and sent home.

The effect of a pregnancy on couples can be anything: profound, disconcerting, inspiring, and problematic. But when you see their faces for the first time, it all dissolves away. Our (read: my wife’s) pregnancy had its share of problems; but the final results were, in no elongation, totally worth it.

You're kidding me, right?

No, I am not kidding. I am 100% serious... it is on its way.

What is? Christmas. And herein lies the problem.

Let me get this out of the way and just say that I like Christmas. In fact, I have nothing against Christmas as a holiday and as a Christian holy day. I don’t even have anything against Christmas becoming commercially crass in the last few years (Evolution baby! “Intelligent design” that, Pat Robertson!) as it was bound to happen.

Having said that, I feel I must rant about this topic, as if I don’t, I may very well have my head explode.

It is WAY too early for Christmas commercials… way, WAY to early.

It is to early for Christmas displays in department and retail stores.

It is to early to hear Christmas ‘muzak’ coming out over the loudspeakers.

There, I’ve said it.

I feel a little better now… actually I don’t. While watching football yesterday, I saw so many Christmas commericals I could feel my holiday anger and anxiety grow.

It is six weeks away… six freakin’ weeks!!!

Six weeks is too far in advance to see a little girl leaving an Outback Steakhouse’s Bloomin’ Onion out for Jolly Old Saint Nick. (and let’s just think about THAT for a moment. Do you really want Santa to be eating a great big glob of grease before he slides down your chimney? Ewww)…

… or to see beautiful people dancing around tossing gift boxes around for to push Target…

… or to see the plethora of toy commericals that, with every one, brings the inevitable uttering from at least one of my three-year old twins’ mouths: ‘Daddy, I want one of those.’ Never mind that the last one was for snow tires…

This past week, I saw houses putting up Christmas lights (never mind the one house I pass on my way to work, on a daily basis, who decided this past week to take down their icecicle lights… from last year! At this point in the game… wouldn’t it make more sense to leave them up?) I saw people taking down their Halloween lights (a separate rant altogether) and stringing up their Christmas lights. Now, this one I can almost forgive, as I almost did the same thing so I could get them up while the weather was nice and warm’ish’… but I wouldn’t turn them on yet, I wouldn’t even set up the extension cords yet… but these people turned them on THAT night…

I mean, shouldn’t there be a law? That is one reason I would want to become President, so I could pass a law making it a federal crime to put up Christmas decorations, play Christmas music or Christmas ads, or have Christmas sales until AFTER Thanksgiving.

Who's with me?? Leave me a comment and let me know.

It’s still 6 weeks away! Can I, for the love of all that is holy, get through Thanksgiving before I have to get inundated and see lights and holiday traffic coming out the yin-yang?

I understand marketing and advertising, but the commercials can start the Monday of Thanksgiving week, since that Friday is the big shopping day. That I would allow.

The rest of it though has to wait until AFTER I have gotten my fair share of L-Tryptophan, watched football and taken my nap!

I mean, come on now.

And why, when I hear the word turkey, do I think of... never mind, I'll save that comment for another blog.

Today's Shameless Plug

If someone as smart as Albert Einstein were to read The Bush-Whacked Administration, shouldn't you?

SHOUT-OUT!

Today is Veterans' Day, and while I could post about our brave men and women who have been fighting and dying for our freedom, I won't. Rather I will give a great big shout out with a very, very, very, very big:

THANK YOU!!

And special shout outs to Veterans in my own family: My Uncles Jimmy, Eladio, Henry & Warren, my cousin Tom, my father-in-law Bill and my brother-in-law Frank. Thank you all.

The lake, it is said, never gives up her dead

The Great Lakes cover over 90,000 square miles and supply one-fifth of the world’s fresh water, with Lake Superior being the largest. The Chippewa Indians call Lake Superior “Kitchi-gummi” which means “great-water”. Later discovered by French explorers who named the lake, “le lac superieur”, which translates to upper lake.

Lake Superior is one of the busiest shipping lanes in North America and is connected to the Atlantic Ocean via the St. Lawrence Seaway. More than 1000 ships travel its waters each year landing either in the port of Duluth in the United States or Thunder Bay in Canada. Lake Superior is also large enough that it has considerable effect on the weather, especially when winds blow across its surface. Duluth sees over 50 days of fog between spring and fall and sometimes during a particularly cold winter the entire lake will freeze over. Another weather phenomenon common to the region, and particularly to Lake Superior, are the sometimes-vicious “northeasters”, which are gales that occur (mostly in November) and are formed when intense low pressure systems pass over the lake, thus creating hurricane-force winds that churn up enormous waves.

(Locals refer to these storms as “the witch of November.” It’s little wonder that the bottom of Lake Superior is littered with the skeletons of no less than 350 ships, most of them falling victim to the temperamental November ‘witch’)

That’s fascinating Kemp, but why the hell are you telling us all of this? And why the hell so many links?

Simple. Today (Thursday, November 10, 2005) is the 30th Anniversary of the most famous sinking on Superior (as well as the most baffling): that of the S.S. Edmund Fitzgerald.

This is a story that has always interested me and I knew, after realizing that the anniversary was today, that I had to write about it and give all you loyal readers the means to find out more, thus the superfluity of linkage.

The Fitzgerald was one of the largest lake vessels of her kind at 729 feet long, 75 feet wide and with a cargo capacity of 27,500 tons. The 7,500 horsepower engines were built by Westinghouse Electric Corporation and helped the ship set different shipping records.

The captain was Earnest MacSorley and gale warnings had already been issued when MacSorley steered the Edmund Fitzgerald, loaded down with taconite, out of Superior, Wisconsin’s docks shortly after 2PM. Meanwhile what looked like a typical November storm was intensifying. On the morning of November 10, heavy rain was falling and winds were gusting from the Northwest in excess of 60 mph as the storm tracked toward Canada, pummeling the Fitzgerald. A little after 3PM that same afternoon, Captain MacSorley reported that his ship was suffering damage and listing. At that time, another ship (The S.S. Arthur M. Anderson) that was sailing close to the Fitzgerald, agreed to stay close until they reached the calmer waters of Whitefish Bay.

In less than a half hour, the storm intensified with wind gusts clocking in at over 100 miles per hour. Shortly thereafter MacSorley again called in to the Anderson, and reported that the ship had lost all radar. Both ships continued on through the worsening conditions, the Anderson keeping track of the Edmund Fitzgerald on her radar screen. By early evening, around 7PM, meteorologists believe the storm’s pressure reached its lowest point; this combined with energy from the jet stream and created a series of enormous waves that first slammed into the Anderson and then into the Fitzgerald. The Anderson sustained damage but survived the onslaught and immediately The captain of the Anderson, Jesse Cooper, radioed the Edmund Fitzgerald to warn the crew of what to expect. The last words that came from Captain MacSorley were, “We are holding our own”.

Ten minutes later, around 7:25 PM… the big freighter had disappeared from all radar screens and the ‘witch’ had claimed yet another victim.

The day after the wreck, Mariners' Church in Detroit rang its bell 29 times, once for each life lost, a memorial that continues to this day. Every year on the anniversary, the church reads the names of the crewmen and rings the church bell.

An investigation by the Coast Guard suggested that the Edmund Fitzgerald had likely suffered enough initial damage that she began taking on water, causing the ship to list. Already unstable, the Fitzgerald was unable to ride out the onslaught of the massive waves once the northeaster worsened and she foundered, plunging to the bottom of Lake Superior with enough force to snap her in half. That report proved controversial, with the most common alternate theory contending that inoperative radar forced the crew to rely on maps that were woefully inacurate and, as a result, the Fitzgerald ran aground on a shoal without the crew knowing it and received bottom damage, thus causing it to gradually take on water until it sank.

The Edmund Fitzgerald now lies rusting under 550 feet of water. None of the sailors bodies were ever recovered. On July 4, 1995, a submarine expedition salvaged the ship’s bell and replaced it with another (as a tribute to the sailors and their families) with the date of the disaster and the names of the dead engraved on it. The bell is on display at the Whitefish Point museum near Paradise, Michigan.

The mystery of exactly how and why the Edmund Fitzgerald sank has never been discovered and the attachment of the ship and the story lives on, helped by the Gordon Lightfoot song: “The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald.” (lyrics to the song can be found here)

After reading a piece about the sinking in Newsweek, Lightfoot was inspired to write one of the signature songs of his lengthy career (and also one of his greatest hits) that turned into an improbable Top 40 smash.

Maritime historian Frederick Stonehouse, when speaking about the song, states: “In large measure, his song is the reason we remember the Edmund Fitzgerald. That single ballad has made such a powerful contribution to the legend of the Great Lakes.”

Three decades after the tragedy, the Fitzgerald remains the most famous of the 6,000 ships that disappeared on the Great Lakes. And the reasons for its sinking will probably never be known.

Busch Stadium Update

On the third day of the demolition of Busch stadium in Saint Louis, the structure now has a huge hole on the south side as the demolition gets in full swing. Check back on my blog for periodic updating on the status of the demolition.

It pains me to see this, but I know the new stadium will be just as breathtaking.

Went to a building demolition and a chess match broke out...

All you St. Louis Cardinals fans out there reading this, I have one question to ask you:

How many more times are we going to have to say goodbye to old Busch Stadium?

How many times are we going to gather around this old cement and steel edifice and pay homage to an old ballpark that just doesn't seem to want to go away quietly?A few scant months after its first, “regular season” goodbye, and just weeks after its final goodbye game (let’s not talk about the outcome here please… I’m still a tad upset about it… I mean… come on! Houston!? The freakin’ Astros???? YOU HAVE GOT TO BE FU***** KIDDING ME!!!!!…Sorry, lost my head there for a moment. I’m okay now), A mere hours after it was supposed to be bid adieu by a colossal wrecking ball, the ol’ gal was still standing firmly and in one piece early Monday evening.

Thousands of Cardinals loyalists, cameras flashing, milled about outside the stadium, peeking through the fences and trying (in vain) to catch a glimpse of what was supposed to be a monumental destruction by a monumental wrecking ball.

What they saw… was incredibly anti-climactic. Monday, November 7, 2005 was supposed to be the day that Busch Memorial Stadium (Part Two) met its maker in order to make way for Busch Memorial Stadium Part Three. I mean, this was the day the wrecking ball was supposed to drop down with a virtuous fury and give the world a dramatic scene of a crumbling of a 39-year-old sports palace.After the first swing happened (it wasn’t even a swing… it was a drop) there was nary a nick on the stadium.

It didn't explode.

It didn't crumble.

It didn't crack.

It didn’t collapse (which can’t be said for the 2005 Cardinals…I mean come on! The Astros???? … sorry, lost my head again… I’m ok now)

Just after 3 p.m. you could see the big ball hanging just above the stadium roof, like a 1,000-pound pendulum (where’s a pit when you need one?) slowly swaying to and fro from the monster crane that was positioned inside the ballpark.One could just imagine what was to come next; a dramatic and colossal obliteration of a historical baseball relic.

Walls would cave in.

Roofs would crumble.

Witnesses would ooh and aah… (and maybe even shed a tear?)

Then again… maybe not.

Three ...

two ...

ONE…

[KERPLUNK!]

It did not crash.

It did not ram.

It did not rumble.

People came, I got online to watch, just so I can see the ‘breathless annihilation.’

But as the ball fell toward its target, all anyone got (whether you were standing there in person or watching it online like I was) was a weak and unspectacular... 'kerplunk.'

I didn't get online at work for… a ‘kerplunk.’

I wanted action damn-it!

I wanted a crash!!!!

I wanted a ka-blewie!!

I wanted a slow rumble…then a crumble…then a swoosh of falling concrete.

But no… what I got, what we ALL got, was a ‘kerplunk.’

This was a letdown of epic proportions.

I mean; it was more a letdown than the series finale of “Seinfeld”. It was more a letdown than the viewing audience for this year’s World Series. It was even more of a letdown than “President” Bush has been for an alarmingly large segment of Republicans that voted for him last November…

People came looking for drama… looking for action.

Not for a ‘kerplunk.’

Labels... (not the kind on clothes, the human kind)

Read an entry like this on another blog (and for the life of me I can't remember which one - otherwise I would give credit where credit is due) and decided it was something that touched me as well... so here ya go, my version.

I've never generally thought of myself "as" a particular something. Not as an ops manager (my career), not as a political/humor/educational essayist (something I am enjoying doing now), not as an especially deep-thinker (what can I say, I love The Simpsons). Of all the identities and labels (see, a tie-in to the title) that I've worn in my brief stopover on this hunk of rock we call Earth, the only one I truly have felt perfectly comfortable wearing has been that... of Dad.

For the most part I am comfortable being a father. Weird as that sounds, considering I've only been a father for a little over three years, I find more enjoyment, more excitement, and more keenness out of fatherhood, then anything else I've ever done. It is not because of any particular outstanding achievement on my part. As a father, I'm run-of-the-mill material, maybe more involved then some, maybe not. In all probability, I'm probably fairly average with regards to my generation. To put it another way; I muddle through.

Practically anyone can have a child (and God knows, some people who shouldn’t have children do, but I have no control or power over that… yet) but to truly be a father involves more then just supplying half the genetics. You have to like being a father. And that means liking the wholeness of it. The essence of it, not just the playtime with your kids or the joy on their faces on Christmas morning, but all of it - the endless face-cleaning, screaming, clamor, arm-pulling, vomit-cleaning, potty-training, broken plate, "who the heck did that", "stop pulling the dogs tail" crying, shrieking, laughing mess of it all.

You have to like it. It has to be a part of who you are and what you are.I guarantee, that if you can embrace it, you will never look in your mirror again without seeing a reflection of that essence in your eyes, or in your viewpoint on life.Granted (and this can serve as a warning to all the father-to-be’s and father wannabes out there)… not all of it will be fun.

You can't be awakened for three nights in a row at 1:00 am with a sick child who just threw-up, not only on the last set of clean sheets in the house but on her sister... (and on her stuffed animals... on the dog who had to run in to see what the hub-bub was... on the floor... on the walls... you get the picture) and necessarily enjoy it, but....you need to be able to deal with it and deal with it well.

You have to be able to deal with it in a...dare I say it...’professional’ style. (Let’s face it, you may not like your work or career choice from day-to-day either, but it’s the certain elements of the job that inspire you, that uplift you, that bring you enjoyment, success and excitement. Though they may only be on occasional instances and not the whole. But these things color your choice, inspire your interest, and keep you fighting the good fight)

Fatherhood feels somewhat like that.

You feel it most when you are with your child. Last week I took my daughters to one of the parks near us (Only I went because my wife was painting our family room. Why was she painting it you ask? Because I suck at painting... at least that’s what I like to make her believe, but that’s fodder for another entry on another day)

I had the girls at the park, sliding down the big slides, swinging on the swings (sense a theme here?) and running around.

After doing this for about an hour we stopped (Dad isn’t as young as he used to be) and I proceeded to load them into the car for the quick trip home. As I’m climbing into the drivers seat, I spotted the two of them watching me, peeking under their Eastern Illinois University sweatshirt hoods, to see what I was doing.

They were just watching me.

Watching… their dad… with a smile on their face.

Kemp's House of Useless Knowledge

The dot over the letter 'i' is called a tittle.

Something wicked this way comes...

As a nice little gear-up for Halloween, I thought I would write about something eerie (like this) or something downright scary (like “President” Bush’s Administration). Then it hit me like a ton of bricks.

A few weeks ago, after coming home from a wedding in Southern Illinois my family and I decided to make a stop at my wife and mine alma mater Eastern Illinois University (EIU). While my wife goes there every year as part of her job, I had not been back since 2001 (btw, the changes that have been made there are incredible)

As we were walking across campus, my wife started telling our nephew (who was hitching a ride home with us) about the haunting of Pemberton Hall. So I decided, on the eve of Halloween eve eve (huh?) that I would write about the ghost and haunting of EIU’s Pemberton Hall.

Warning: The following has some disturbing imagery and details

How did this tale begin? Oddly enough, it was a dark and stormy (and cold) winter’s night around 1917 when a resident of Pemberton Hall went upstairs to the fourth floor of the building to play the piano. It was very late, the young woman had been unable to sleep and was hoping that playing some music might help her to relax and get tired.

The story continues that the young woman was tragically raped and left dying by a deranged janitor and crawled down the stairs scratching and feebly knocking on doors for help. Finally, she made it to the counselor's door and managed to awaken her… but it was to late. By the time the counselor opened the door the young woman was dead.

As the years passed, residents of Pemberton Hall say they have heard this event from the past repeating itself in the building. They recall the dragging sounds heard near the stairs that lead to the upper floor and the sounds of scratching on doors and walls. Most bewildering though are the bloody footprints that have appeared in the corridor, only to vanish moments later. Many believe the ghost of the murdered young woman has returned to haunt Pemberton Hall, but that’s only half of the haunted tale.

The counselor who discovered the murdered girl was named Mary Hawkins and was a favorite among the residents of Pemberton Hall. The effect of the murder on Mary’s personality was devastating though as she became haunted by the death of the young woman. Students spoke of seeing her pacing the hallways at all hours of the night, unable to sleep and tormented by horrible visions and guilt. Finally, unable to cope with her depression and nightmares, she was institutionalized and later committed suicide.

Shortly after her death, residents of Pemberton Hall started to report some strange occurrences in the building (and these spooky events continue today) Students believe the incidents are the work of Mary Hawkins, still making her rounds and checking in on the young women who live in the building. Many believe that her spirit (unable to rest after losing a woman in her care) still roams the hall and watches out and protects them, locking and unlocking doors, turning radios and televisions off hours, and generally keeping track of things that go on.

For many years, students have spoken of the odd happenings in the building and events that would convince even the most skeptical of residents that perhaps the hall was truly haunted, such as late night door knockings and inexplicable sounds in the hallways. Only to discover an empty hallway when the door is open. Others claim to have seen the apparition of a woman entering their rooms and then vanishing. In other cases, residents who distinctly recall leaving their doors open and unlocked, often find them to be mysteriously locked the next morning, as if someone was checking up on them and worried about their safety.

Could it have been Mary Hawkins?

Even before I attended EIU in the 90’s there were reports of strange events happening in the hall. Throughout the 60’s and 70’s, residents reported hearing the sounds of whispers in the building, and there were a number of reports of apparitions on the stairwell that would appear briefly and then vanish. One student, who lived in Pemberton Hall in 1976, recalled the problems that the resident advisors had with the furniture in one of the lounges. Many times, the furniture in this room was often found to be overturned or rearranged, often during the overnight hours. Rumor has it that an RA walked into a room one morning and discovered the furniture had all been moved around. She went to get some help to straighten the room up again and when she and another resident came back, they found everything had been restored to order.

Most students don’t actually see Mary or the other ghosts, but few doubt the spirit exists. One recurring incident involved the lights on the fourth floor of the building (where the music room is and where the first young woman was attacked) where many students reported seeing the windows open and close and the lights turn on and off, with no logical explanation given. (While I attended Eastern, the fourth floor was locked and off-limits to residents, but, for the last couple of years the fourth floor has been open on Halloween only for a Haunted House, read an article here from The Daily Eastern News to learn more about that)

As you can tell, the majority of weird reports have centered on the fourth floor, ranging from hearing the sound of footsteps pacing overhead and the strains of faint piano music filtering down. Is it true?

Depends on your point of view…

Thought of the Day

“I often quote myself. I find it adds spice to the conversation.”

- George Bernard Shaw

Shout out!

Last night the Chicago White Sox broke their 88-year World Series curse by sweeping the Houston Astro’s to win the 2006 World Series. If my boys (St Louis Cardinals) couldn’t get it done, I’m glad my second-fave team did. It’s good for Chicago, it’s good for Illinois… and it thoroughly honks off Cubs fans, which is always a bonus for me. Go Sox!

8 Things...

Childs Play x2 did this on his blog, and I thought it was a very cool idea so I decided to try it as well, though I upped the ante (as it were) and made it 8 things. Why 8? Eh…why not?

As CP said, it was a lot harder than I thought it would be.

And awayyyy weeee gooooooo…

8 things I want to do before I die:

1. Run for political office (which I have already started doing…see my School Board entries for the … ‘Rest… of the… story’)
2. Give my daughters away at their wedding (hopefully, they’ll have a dual ceremony…cause the idea of paying for two weddings in any proximity scares the you-know-what out of me
3. Get my wife to ride the big Ferris Wheel with me at Chicago’s Navy Pier
4. Walk across the Golden Gate Bridge (I have a fear of bridges and didn’t take the opportunity to do this in a prior visit to San Fran…but I feel I must now… it’s a moral imperative)
5. Retire before the age of 60
6. Take an Alaskan cruise
7. Go back to Hawaii
8. Get my Ph.D.
   

8 things I cannot do:

1. Change the oil in my car (have to agree with cp on this on)
2. Say no to pizza… and to cheese… and to chips
3. Understand the appeal of reality TV shows… I just don’t get it.
4. Lose an argument/debate
5. Climb a ladder (long story)
6. Sleep in (not so much as can’t, but more of my twins won’t let me…)
7. Drink cheap coffee
8. Drink cheap wine

8 things that attract me to the opposite sex:

1. Sense of humor (or, more precisely, them laughing at MY jokes – which my wife does, no matter how bad or corny they are)
2. Intelligence (but not smarter than me. Sorry, but that’s just the elitist in me. BTW, my wife is smarter than me)
3. Legs
4. Eyes
5. Smile
6. Small of the back
7. Independent streak (which my wife has in spades)
8. Ahem…well, uh…. you know…

8 Things that I say most often:

1. Nice.
2. D’oh!
3. Am I oversimplifying things?
4. Did I ever tell you about…
5. Decisions are made by those that show up
6. Or am I using too much logic?
7. Son of a bi—
8. Holy Flurkin’ Schnit…

8 celebrity crushes:

1. Salma Hayek
2. Penelope Cruz
3. Niki Taylor
4. Shakira
5. Liz Phair
6. Kate Beckinsale
7. Rachel Ray
8. Janel Moloney (from TV’s The West Wing)

8 people I want to have do this exercise:

1. My wife
2. My brother
3. My best friend, Scott
4. My daughters (though we may have to wait until they can write)
5. Enigma4ever, a consistent visitor to all my blogs
6. Baseball Commissioner Bud Selig (the man’s a mental furball by the way)
7. “President” Bush (Why? The smart-ass, politico in me says ‘to see if he can count to 8’)
8. Every person in the whole wide world

Thought of the Day

"Each person must live their life as a model for others."

Rosa Parks, Civil Rights pioneer who passed away Monday at the age of 92
http://www.cnn.com/2005/US/10/25/parks.obit/index.html

The Fiercest Battle

Every night my wife and I get settled in under the covers. We give each other a kiss and say, "I love you".

Beautiful, isn’t it?

But that is where the congeniality ends… and the savage battle begins.

A battle… for space and covers.


A battle where acreage is gained or lost inch by inch through the fighting of which the rules of engagement do not apply.

I am talking, of course, of sharing a bed.

When I was single, my bed seemed huge! It was like having a back yard in my bedroom. (Sometimes when I awoke in the night and had trouble getting back to sleep, I would just get up and wander around my bed for awhile, always amazed at what wonder I would discover… ok, I’m making that up, but work with me here, I’m leading up to something)

So how is it that getting married and adding one small person to this huge posturepedic expanse would leave me without sufficient room to sleep, let alone wander.

When I sleep, I SLEEP…and I need room I need to be able to roll, kick and thrash (much like a person does when they are grabbed by a crocodile…and least that’s what Paul Hogan said in Crocodile Dundee…and he has never steered me wrong).

In getting married, this can no longer be done without causing great bodily harm to my wife.

She, as well, felt as though her personal sleeping area was being threatened by the co-existence.

Thus, the battle began.

A push here and a scoot there eventually became a kick here, and an "accidental" arm stretch to the chops, there.

I became so accustomed to fighting over every precious inch that I was soon able to carry on the combat even after falling asleep.

In the morning, my wife would say things like,"you mean you don't remember standing over me wielding your pillow like a samurai sword and screaming to the Lord Almighty above that you couldn't take anymore?”

Thinking I was being clever, I tried constructing a barrier down the middle of the bed with two by fours (painting it a very pleasant beige, might I add). But it was not meant to be as I returned from work one evening to find that my wife, who claims to have no carpentry skills whatsoever, had torn down and perfectly rebuilt the barrier a foot more in her favor.

Touché.

The bed space is not the only area that is fought over. The covers are as well.

At times, I don’t want any covers on me. (I may be hot and trying to cool off) My wife thinks that this is a sign that she can wrap herself up in the covers like a burrito and go to sleep. I have, without success, tried explaining to my wife that that does not mean I do not want covers throughout the entire night, just at this precise moment.

Other times, I will be sleeping soundly when a sudden chill awakens me. I look around and discover that I am no longer covered, but rather, uncovered. My wife, while in a sleeping state, yanked the covers, sheets, blankets off of me and again wrapped herself up like a burrito.

After years of fighting and lack of sleep, I tried to come up with a viable solution (you think drafting an Iraqi Constitution is hard, try writing an husband/wife equal cover-sharing concept agreement).

Separate covers. She has hers, I have mine. We still share a sheet, but for blankets, we are on our own.

And we couldn’t be happier.

Thought of the Day

"It holds the heat well!"

- Casey Stengel, speaking about Busch Stadium, during the 1966 All-Star Game

Son of a bi***!!!!

Well, that's it. It's over. The fat lady has sung.

The St. Louis Cardinals' season...(sigh)

...is over.

The Cardinals could not create magic in a bottle as they did Monday night and lost to the Houston Astros in game 6 of the National League Championship Series (NLCS).

Final score Houston 5 - St. Louis 1. Astros take the series 4-2.

It pains me to say this...but congratulations Houston. You played extraordinarily well. The World Series is next for you.

I will let all you know that, even though I am a National League fan at heart...I will have to root (and believe me it pains me more when I say this) for the White Sox...(I never thought I would hear myself say those words)

Watching the game tonight with my brother Al, I kept thinking about all the great memories I have had at Busch Stadium over my years (to get a better idea, check out an earlier entry:
http://blogofkemp.blogspot.com/2005_09_01_blogofkemp_archive.html

But...I honestly can't say if I am more sad about the end of the Cardinals season...or the end of Busch Stadium (I'll give a minute for all the Cardinal fans out there to let that sink in) A few weeks from now the wrecking balls will come out to raze the old girl...and for that...I am a tad heartbroken. But I know, like tonight's loss, I will get over it.

Goodnight and goodbye Busch...I, and all other Cardinal fans, will miss you...

Thought of the Day

“It's hard to take positive steps, when you've burned the bridge you got to walk across.”

– J.D. Dorian (Zach Braff), from Scrubs

The Trouble with Umpires

I was going to take this spot today to write about my weekend trip with the family down to southern Illinois for a wedding, but another subject arose that has stuck itself in my craw and I HAVE to rant about it, lest my head explode.

Quick show of hands - who saw game 4 of the NLCS Sunday? If you did, you saw the most repulsive, mistake-laden act of umpiring since…well, since game 2 of this year’s ALCS. (You listening Mr Selig? Mistakes are being made and you HAVE to fix them)

My beloved Cardinals are not new to being hosed by umpires (you can check out this link for a further explanation on that. hint: Don Denkinger is the name) http://espn.go.com/page2/s/list/worstcalls/010730.html

But my beloved Redbirds got screwed with their pants on AGAIN by a mask-wearing ignoramus as NL “umpire” Phil Cuzzi decided to get his turn of the spotlight during Sunday’s game in Houston and made himself the focal point of the game instead of the Cardinals or Astros.

First, he ejected Cardinals manager Tony LaRussa for arguing an indecipherable and incomprehensible strike zone that seemed to be moving in every other direction with every new pitch (a ‘floating’ strike zone was how it was described by many columnists..I just call it bvllsh**)

Then he threw outfielder Jim Edmonds out too, after a pitch that was so far out of the strike zone that even my 3-year old twins knew it wasn’t a strike. The Fox announcers (who have been kissing the Astros butts this whole series by the way) even stated that an ump does not throw people out of a playoff game for only arguing. (Here’s an update and a candidate for the ‘Duh” of the Week: Bob DuPuy, MLB's president and chief operating officer, told MLB.com that the pitch to Edmonds might have been out of the strike zone.)

But this schmuck did just that. Had this moron worked the game blindfolded, it would have made NO difference on his ball-strike calling as he was also hopeless and arrogant, which are traits everyone wants in all umpires, right?

The next question then is; who the hell is Phil Cuzzi anyway? Well, with the help of my friends at Google as well as St Louis Post Dispatch online columnist Jeff Gordon, I learned a little more about the putz behind the mask and found some clues as to why this man should not be umpiring a little league baseball game, let alone a MLB Playoff game:

He attended the Harry Wendelstedt Umpire School in 1982 and 1983, THEN the Joe Brinkman Umpire School in 1984. Not once after three years of umpire school did this idiot get offered a job. (That should be clue number 1)

Finally, after another trip to the Wendelstedt School, he was hired to work in the rookie-level New York-Penn League.

Cuzzi worked eight years in the minors before getting up to Class AAA level and reaching the major leagues for 95 games of fill-in work. In 1993 he was passed over for promotion as six other umpires got the call-up. After that season, Cuzzi was fired (clue number 2)

He then spent the next three years living with his mother and working odd jobs. (That’s nice and normal, isn’t it? Whatever else it is, it's also clue number 3)

While working at the Short Hills (N.J.) Hilton, he waited outside a hotel room so he could speak to National League president Leonard Coleman and beg him for another chance to be an umpire. He got it, albeit after heading BACK to umpire school and starting over at the Class A level AGAIN (clue 4).

He worked his way back up the ladder and reached the majors again in 1999, as a fill-in then getting hired as a replacement umpire when Major League Baseball accepted the resignation of 22 umpires during a rather ugly labor dispute of a few years before (clue 5)

I counted 4 clues that show this unpredictable and unreliable nimrod should never have been given the chance to umpire a playoff game – am I oversimplifying things too much??

So his umpiring “education” record looks sketchy, so let’s now take a look at the schmoe’s officiating, as painful as it may be.

In 2000, Cuzzi worked the plate in a controversial game between the Red Sox and Devil Rays that saw 8 D-Rays ejected; Gerald Williams was tossed for charging the mound and manager Larry Rothschild for arguing that (Red Sox pitcher) Pedro Martinez should have been tossed as well. D-Ray pitchers Dave Eiland, Cory Lidle and Tony Fiore were tossed for throwing at Red Sox batters. The two acting managers from the game, Bill Russell and Jose Cardenal, also got the boot, and Greg Vaughn was ejected for protesting a seemingly wide called third strike in the seventh, his third strikeout of the night.’ (Wow, much like Sunday’s game 4…hmmmm?)

(Want more examples of his thirst for the limelight and his ineptitude of officiating? Well, here ya go)

In 2003, Cuzzi incurred the wrath of the Red Sox (again) after ejecting pitcher Casey Fossum just 13 pitches into the game for hitting Raul Ibanez with NO WARNING to either bench being issued.

(Want more? Ok) Cuzzi had a couple of well-publicized run-ins with the Toronto Blue Jays in that same year. In June, the Jays complained about his suddenly massive strike zone, said then-Jays slugger Carlos Delgado, “There’s no need to ask because a major league umpire should not miss a call like that.”

Later, when Roy Halladay was gunning for his 23rd victory, Cuzzi ejected him for hitting Rocco Baldelli with a pitch. Even Baldelli said it was a bad call. The Blue Jays, complained but it fell on deaf ears.

Last year Cuzzi got into it with the Phillies over his strike zone in a game against the Orioles when he ejected back-up catcher Todd Pratt. (Pratt, it should be noted, was in the dugout when he got the boot; an amazing trick if I’ve ever seen one, it's like throwing your voice, but with more annoyance)

So you get the general idea. Here’s a man who had to maneuver his way to the big leagues (after failing at it many times before) before getting in through the back door ONLY because 22 other umps lost their jobs. And now he is umpiring the National League Championship Series when the rest of the world is watching.

Which is scarier? That Cuzzi is, in fact, officiating the NLCS, or the fact that he doesn’t mind making himself the focal point of his games when it should be the teams and the players that are the focal point?

This is another example of how Bud Selig (who – in being a former owner – has NO right to be commissioner, but that’s for another day) is slowly destroying the sport of baseball.

I miss A. Bartlett Giamatti and often find myself wondering if his son Paul (http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0316079/ ) would be as good a commissioner as he is an actor…

My Twins: A Redux

Taking a few days off from blogging this weekend as I have an out-of-town wedding to go to. So rather than allow people to visit and see nothing updated, I thought I would re-post one of my earlier rants, if you haven’t read it, it’s new to you…hope you enjoy it.

My twins are getting bigger every day, and older. And as they are growing older, they can now speak in complex (for a three-year old anyway) sentences. This has given them new ways of communicating with me and with each other (though the latter was never a problem – gotta love twin language). It's interesting to hear the thoughts running through their heads that were previously unknown to us. Now, instead of just bouncing around in their head, they say it…and sometimes, what they say can be an absolute doozy. The other day, while my wife, the girls and I were in the SUV (I know, but at least it’s not a minivan), one of them said, out of the blue: ‘daddy laid a big turd.’

Ooookayyyy. Where that I came from, I have no idea, but there it was…out in the open.

(Now, some of you may be asking where a three-year old learned the word ‘turd’ from. That, sad to say, is my fault. During potty training one day, after one of them had successfully ‘gone potty’ in the toilet, I told her she had laid a big turd. Before I could stop myself from saying the word – they had it memorized and it has been in both of their lexicons ever since. They never remember the words you want them to remember, but they certainly do remember the ones you don’t want them to heat, much less remember, instantaneously.)

The other day, while I was busy getting ready for work and trying to help my wife get them ready for daycare, I told one of them to please hurry up because we have to leave soon. One of them responded by saying: "Drink your coffee, daddy."

It escaped me at that time, but I then realized that I had just been ‘sassed’ and put in my place…by a three year old.

Ouch.

I’ve always been a bit of a smart-ass (people who know me that read this column are saying to themselves: A BIT???), and my wife had really been hoping that our daughters would not inherit that trait from me.

Evidently, no such luck.

They are well on their way to becoming ‘world-class smart-asses’ like their father.

Better that than a Republican.

Originally posted August 27, 2005

Have a good weekend, don’t get into too much trouble, and remember, if you get arrested, don’t call me for bail money.

Thought of the Day

“Anyone who isn't confused really doesn't understand the situation.”

- Edward R. Murrow

Applaud & Heckle

APPLAUD: The Red Sox AND the Yankees are out of the baseball playoffs. That (along with the fact the Cardinals won the first game of thier second straight NLCS) has me happier than a New England clam. Now, if we can only get the Patriots to suck…wait a minute, that may already be happening… (Is it just me or is it becoming as hip and likable to hate all the Boston/New England teams, as it is all the New York teams? I think it is.)

HECKLE: to Yoko Ono. Come on already Yoko leave Sir Paul alone. You want to know why nobody covers John’s songs? One word: YOU! If they wanted to cover them, they would have to get your permission. That would mean talking to you, and no one wants to do that…

APPLAUD: to Gore in '08: U.S. News says that Al Gore might be eyeing a run for the White House in 2008. Great, just keep your mouth shut about that whole ‘inventing the internet’ jive.

HECKLE: to the year of the disaster. Let’s look at the last 12 months. We have had a catastrophic tsunami that killed thousands, a couple of category 5 hurricanes that have killed thousands (and the ‘season’ isn’t over yet), and an horrifying earthquake in Asia that has killed tens of thousands. So naturally Pat Robertson says it's all a prelude to the ‘earthly’ return of Jesus (or Jebus as Homer Simpson would say). Make your own comment here.

APPLAUD: to Louis Nye, who died Sunday. For those of you who do not know, he was a comedian in the highest order. For a better explanation, check out this link http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Louis_Nye

HECKLE: George W. Bush. His polling numbers remain lower than rating’s for Martha Stewart’s Apprentice. But a change may be coming (wink wink – nudge nudge). This past weekend, pundits on TV were saying that a new tax code overhaul would help raise his numbers. Sure, doing that would make everyone forget about Iraq, the economy, cronyism, DeLay, Frist, Abramoff, Libby, Rove, Avian flu, the (piss-poor) response to Katrina, the (too good this time) response to Rita, gas prices, heating oil prices, spiraling debt, soaring health care costs and the looming Medicare crisis. (Whatever)

APPLAUD? HECKLE?: I honestly don’t know where to place this one. St Louis Rams head coach Mike Martz will be sidelined at least six weeks because of what is believed to be a bacterial infection of the heart valve. This one can’t be categorized until after the season, though I know a LOT of St Louis fans are hoping he resigns. My opinion? Well, it’s in 2 parts: 1st: forget about football Mike and get better. Your health is more important. 2nd: this could revitalize a struggling club who may, as clichéd as it may be, want to win for their sick coach.

HECKLE: to “President” Bush. Just (as before) on general principles alone.

APPLAUD: to 900-year-old Vinny Testaverde who quarterbacked the Jets to victory over the Buccaneers this past Sunday. Two weeks ago he was sitting at home on his couch watching the Jets. This past Sunday he guided them to victory. That’s impressive any way you look at it.

HECKLE: Condoleezza Rice. Why? Well, we haven’t seen her around much lately; so you have to think that she is up to no good and deserves a good heckle.

APPLAUD: The Center for Policy Alternatives (CPA). It’s the nation's only nonpartisan, nonprofit organization working to strengthen the capacity of state legislators to lead and achieve progressive change. Check out their website for some interesting and insightful reading. http://www.cfpa.org/

APPLAUD: to my other blog (done in conjunction with best friend Scott) for adding a polling feature. Check it out and vote http://thebushwhackedleague.blogspot.com/. There will be a new poll every week.

HECKLE: to my local school board. Those of you who are steady readers of this blog know that I applied for an open school board seat (check the archives for my previous entries). It turns out that the rumor going around town (and one that I mentioned in my earlier posting) is that the individual who was selected was (wait for it…) was coached by the board. Pathetic, isn’t it? I guarantee I will be a force to reckon with in the next election.

APPLAUD: and a tip o’ the hat to the Daily Kos for supplying me with this one: “There's a new nickel design showing Thomas Jefferson with an odd facial expression. C&J translates his thoughts: ‘You turned the executive branch over to whom??’”

HECKLE: the Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim (give me a break) for beating the Chicago White Sox on Tuesday. I am rooting for the White Sox in the AL because I want a Cardinals/White Sox World Series. Why? 2 reasons: 1. It’s good for baseball. 2. It would thoroughly annoy Cubs fans that their two sworn enemies were facing off in the Fall Classic while they watched at home. Hee hee hee hee

HECKLE: to Rick Moranis (yes, THAT Rick Moranis, he of SCTV, The MacKenzie Brothers, Little Shop of Horrors, etc.) who has released a country music album. I took a listen on his website (http://www.rickmoranis.com/), and it’s a toss up as to who has the worse country album: Rick Moranis or Steven Seagal; the call is yours.

APPLAUD: to all our Jewish friends out there who are celebrating Yom Kippur. Le'chaim!

Thought of the Day

“Insanity runs in my family. It practically gallops.”

Mortimer Brewster (Cary Grant) from Arsenic and Old Lace

Gone Blocko!

There are days when having this blog is useful. Like a day when you have so much to vent about, that 2 or 3 entries can be created out of one event, or a day you hear something on the radio or TV or something you read in the newspaper (am I the only one that still reads a newspaper?) that makes your skin crawl or blood boil and you have to write about THAT.

And then … there are days like this, when nothing clicks, when the portion of your brain marked blog ideas looks as empty as a theater showing an Aston Kutcher movie (as if the very idea of an Aston Kutcher movie doesn’t make most people shudder and cringe anyway)

Sitting at my computer on this crisp fall night, after my daughters have fallen asleep and my wife is working on homework towards her Masters degree, and with so many things happening in the world and so many avenues to explore I can honestly say that the gate is down, the lights are flashing, but the train ain’t a-comin’.

This isn’t writer's block (I will refrain from calling it ‘bloggers block’ for those of you that think blogging is a useless concept – I’m talking to you Bill O’Reilly!!), this is more like a subdivision, or a county, or even a state. My head is rejecting ideas like they are President Bush’s Supreme Court nominees.

I could write about sports. The NFL is at the quarter point and I can opine about surprises and disappointments. Or I can write about baseball and the Cardinals’ return (I hope) to the Series. Hell, I could even write about the NHL…but who would read that?

I could write about my twins and the fascinating things they have done or gotten into lately.

I could write about politics, but I have a separate blog for that now (http://thebushwhackedleague.blogspot.com/)

I could write about why I haven't written lately, but my good friend Scott already did that:
(http://scottsrantspot.blogspot.com/)

I could, I suppose, write an entry about Britney Spears taking her bra off of E-Bay...

Nah, that won't work.

Let's go back to sports, why not write another entry about sports?

Well, the football teams I follow (the St Louis Rams and the Chicago Bears) both suck. As do the Blues in the NHL.

College football? Well, my alma mater, Eastern Illinois University is having an adequate season, but they play in Division 1-AA so they don’t get much exposure. Local colleges? Northwestern, Notre Dame and Illinois are all within one hour of me, but, come on now.

The Cardinals are in pursuit of another World Series berth, but I want to refrain from writing about that, lest I create a jinx that would make me the scorn of Cardinal society.

All of these are viable prospects, but my brain says no. And by that I mean that my brain is not allowing me to come up with anything clever or entertaining about any of those subjects (and some of you are saying to yourself; ‘that’s never stopped you before Kemp.’ To that I say…bite me.)

And that’s the end of it. My brain is a couple of sandwiches short of a picnic, all preparation and no ‘H’. Put it another way – I’m spent.

The hell with it, I won't write anything. Though, I just did didn’t I? Isn’t it strange how things work out?

Thought of the Day

“When the going gets weird, the weird turn pro.”

- Hunter S. Thompson

Strange Bedfellows: Baseball and TV Execs

Don't get me wrong, I am absolutely ecstatic about the Cardinal's victory late Saturday nig-- sorry, EARLY Sunday morning.

But: by the time Padres’ pitcher Woody Williams threw the first pitch of Game 3, Major League Baseball's bedtime special, the Cardinals and Padres had played only one game since late Tuesday afternoon. That's a span of 4 1/2 calendar days, covering more than 100 hours.

Absolutely absurd.

Game 1 in St. Louis started at noon Central, which presumably shut out many working Padres fans who had no opportunity to watch a game that began at 10 a.m. on the West Coast. A baseball breakfast might be a fun and doable diversion on the weekends, but not on a Tuesday morning. (And the afternoon starting times of Games 1 and 2 also put many St. Louis fans in the position of choosing between baseball and work, baseball and getting paid.)

Saturday’s schedule was idiotic. Assuming that the contest would last about three hours, Game 3's starting time of 10:00 P.M. (10:09 p.m. for all you OCD types) St. Louis time required Cardinals fans to stay up past 1 a.m. (I personally, after attending my wife’s 15 year High School Reunion – and drinking a little in the process --, stayed up until after 1:30 AM Sunday morning to see the end of the game)

And let us not forget that this franchise does have a healthy national following, so how about those on the East Coast? Fans or not, would you be able to stay awake beyond 2 a.m.?

This rude scheduling is outrageous, made worse by something that was brought to my attention by St. Louis Post Dispatch columnist Bernie Miklasz who stated in a column in the online edition of the paper that in 2002, the Cardinals played an NLDS game at Arizona that began after 10 p.m., which caused an embarrassed Baseball Commissioner Bud Selig to apologize to the fans of St. Louis and then declared that he would ban late-night starts in the future.

Selig must have been taking lessons from the GOP, cause he lied.

Three years later, Bud once again decided to kneel down before the Lords of TV and grant them a schedule that THEY wanted.

I know baseball is a business, in fact I have written an earlier blog about that fact, but, a 10:00PM start is still ridiculous. How exactly that is better TV business is beyond me. No other division series was as split-up as the Cardinals and Padres were. The three other series had schedules calling for the teams to play their first two games on consecutive days, take a day off, and then play the final three games without another break. The Cardinals and Padres on the other hand had more days off (two) than games (one).

Brilliant. Absolutely brilliant.

The Baseball powers that be say that one reason for spreading the postseason schedule out is to make sure that no two baseball postseason games are on at the same time (cause, you know, the NFL doesn’t do that…wait a minute, yes they do. Well, the NBA do--…no, they do to. College football does it. The NHL does it. Hell, even the Olympics do it.)

The purported reason for this is to give the fans a chance in theory to see every game (In theory? In the words of Homer J. Simpson, “In theory, communism works…in theory.”)

Ok. Sure. They make it easier for fans to see all the games, except when they decide to put the start time at 10:00 PM.Saturday though, St. Louis and San Diego got the last laugh.The Chicago White Sox vs. Boston Red Sox series was already over (Being a Card fan and being at Game 4 of the World Series last year when the Sox swept the Cards, it was an ABSOLUTE pleasure to see the Red Sox get kicked out of the playoffs…that’s Karma. And add to that the fact that the White Sox’ success is annoying Cubs' fans...well, that's a bargain at half the price)

Game 4 of the Anaheim Angels vs. New York Yankees was rained out. (I HATE the Yankees even MORE than the Cubs by the way)Baseball had no playoff game to televise during the early afternoon hours, and was empty for the late-afternoon slot.

A nice lesson for Major League Baseball, but I still feel like all us Cardinal fans got screwed with our pants on.