Friday, January 9, 2009

Fellow Cheeseheads: I Am a Traitor. I Love Chicago.

People of Chicago: You have a beautiful city.


Not the best photo, but? The Christmas tree in the middle!

Might be that when I peer out the window on the Firelit Hill each night-- unless there is a fire-- it's unbroken black. Or that usually when I take a walk, I encounter no human face. But surrounded by Chicago's blazing, flashing Milky Way of city lights... feeling the warm breeze of moving masses of humanity everywhere I turned... it was a booster shot of vigor and good spirit.

I wasn't even concerned with the constant helicopter whirr outside our hotel Saturday morning, until I thought about it. Then I looked out the window.

The kid's birthday gift was tickets to "Wicked" Friday night, and our seats were fantastic. Plus, packed house save for one empty chair-- the one right in front of her. She was speechless the rest of the night.

T.rex head


Saturday night, we had a pizza that, upon very brief reflection, we proclaimed the best we'd ever eaten-- a "Lou" from Lou Malnati's. It was our second excellent meal at a surprisingly cheap price.


I hadn't seen the Museum of Science and Industry's Coal Mine since I was little, and didn't remember much about it-- probably because the tour and its info have kept pace with changing technology. The line to get in was long, but we were glad we waited. And I'd never been in the U-505, the German sub whose capture was a major turning point in World War II. Amazing story: sailors packed so tightly in a claustrophic space-- for months-- that even breathing and talking was regulated... and a US Captain nearly court-martialed for capturing the sub who instead was made Admiral. The museum has copies of the book he wrote about it, as well as one by a German crewman. I'm immersed.

Who remembers these? Both museums we visited had a number of them, which I hadn't seen in decades. My companion thought they were just the coolest. Two bucks per plastic pal.

When Sunday night came and it was time to leave, we resisted, stalling at Peet's Coffee on North, still loving the crowds. Then the lights faded one by one, mile by mile. But there was a little humor on the way:

My Christmas gift was a dashboard GPS, who's been named "Rhoda" (but, of course!) Rhoda's a good time, and so far I let her tell me where to go even when I know where I am.

Rhoda is controlled by touching her screen, which means basically that whenever you touch Rhoda, something happens whether you intend it to or not. Rhoda speaks American English out of the box. As we were leaving the Belvidere Oasis, I touched her to start and accidentally opened the program that gives the voice different languages, accents, and genders.

"Hey! We could make Rhoda sound British! Or Australian! Or be a Slavic-speaking male!"

Seconds later, without cause, Rhoda leaped from her mount onto my lap.

"Rhoda's flipping out-- she doesn't care for that idea!"

Just how much she didn't care for it, we found very soon. Rhoda began telling me turns that didn't make sense, as I knew the route. I looked at her screen. She was now giving us directions... to drive straight into the Yahara River. How that could have been programmed completely by a one-touch accident, I have no clue. But I started calling her "Hal" after that.

We made it home anyway.


Can't wait to get back.

Wednesday, December 31, 2008

Happy New Calendars!

Yeah, that's what it's about! Spanking new calendars! Fresh, crisp, unmarked, right out of the cellophane.

It'll feel good to do that. '08 was a roller coaster around here, ending with an unexpected downer. But not today. Today was a beautiful, sunny day... and a great day to go to Devil's Head in Merrimac. Not a big crowd, nobody drinking overmuch that early so an easygoing bunch to boot. All that December snow had to be made to be good for something.


One of the most incredible parts of this past year was meeting so many truly amazing people. If you think that you are one of them-- then you are indeed one of them. A toast to you!

It's just flipping a page-- or hanging up a new set of pages on the wall-- but for what it's worth, I hope that everyone reading this has a wonderful 2009. And that whatever comes-- when there are days like this, with more hours of darkness than light, and there's a pile of tiresome snow around your feet, and it's barely above zero-- still, the sun will be shining just enough to make you notice a surprising warmth. And that'll get you through.

And maybe this will help too: one of my resolutions? Write better! :-D

Love you all.





Wednesday, December 17, 2008

You Set the Fire In Me, CC

(title song link) In my heart, I knew he'd walk away.

And yet, I can't seem to muster much contempt for the guy. He seems like a gentleman-- genuinely liked by teammates he's had along the way, and a real favorite of the fans.

Sure, he did say he liked being a Brewer this summer. And that he'd consider coming back, even though he knew any offer from here would not match the highest one that came his way. Even so-- I can't rally myself to call his heart a cheatin' one.


It may be that even if he'd had that thought sincerely, his agent and others convinced him that if he dared settle for a contract that was nowhere near as big as the fattest one on the table, none of the other players would let him join in any reindeer games ever again and they'd whistle, eyes fixed on the sky, while he was regularly pulled from the mound in third innings with a mysteriously larger ERA than he'd started the game with.

(I doubt that's how they operate. But winter meetings are so... so Vegas.)

You knew there'd be some disparity-- but it turned out to be millions upon millions of dollars' difference between the Brewers' truly respectable offer, and the Yankees' truly insane one-- one that has baseball insiders scratching their heads after they close their gaping mouths. CC is going to have unbelievable pressure on him next season, especially for a guy who for all his supreme qualities, has yet to be known as "Mr. October." That pressure will come from New York fans, and from fans who may up until now have shrugged off paydays-from-another-planet for athletes as part of the price we cough up for "entertainment"-- but are now weary of hearing about guaranteed contracts that seem obscene while the ticket buyers themselves are now watching their own grocery store bills with meticulous care.


But despite the very valid bread'n'circuses argument, I'm glad we knew CC. The team I've been a fan of for as long as I can remember made the playoffs for the first time in 26 years. 26 years. Heck, that far back I don't even recognize myself. I will never forget the moment they clinched... pacing in front of the TV, my daughter nervously following in my steps, camera on the Brewers in the dugout while they watched the Mets on Miller Park's screen. And how thrilling it was to see that postgame celebration, with players we'd followed so closely all season and all the other seasons.


To some it may sound silly, but being a fan of a team that actually seems to have a chance to accomplish something-- rather than one that gets ignored or laughed at year after year-- does a little somethin' somethin' for the spirit. And I can't feel bad about that.


I didn't expect they'd last much beyond that first playoff week. They were a little green, and a little slumpy, and the Phillies were unconscious. I was happy with what we got. And I'm happy with CC and what he did to get them there. I really hope he pitches well this year.


It's the rest of the Yankees that can boot the ball.


I love this story!


Wednesday, December 10, 2008

And Now It Smells Like Christmas


It can't be good that there are just a handful of people here on a Saturday afternoon. But this isn't the easy way to do it. An ice wind sifts down the ridges and snakes through the trees, but if you hop in the snow from tree to tree you can play hide and seek with it. The low grey sky blends into the hilltops, promising more snow very soon. It's almost dark before it's dark.



My parents bought loved Charlie Brown trees from a city parking lot, stiff Scotch pines that looked festive but started to seem dangerously flammable by Dec. 25. Because the Tree is one of our favorite parts of the season, we like fresh, fresh Frasers, full with soft blue-green needles with silvery undersides. Not too big-- the ceiling is low.



I just love Christmas tree farms. Long ridges and narrow rutted lanes, mazes of green triangles, friendly red-cheeked staff (the owner and his wife passed our truck, and rolling down his window, he smiled and asked, "See any trees?") Years ago when we visited our first farm, near Manitowoc, the wind chill was below zero and we got lost on the winding paths. All that hiking and frost-pained hands for a tree that dropped its needles within the week-- it had been spray-painted green as it stood in the ground. Could've gotten that at the gas station.


We've had much better luck since then. One farm had Santa, free hot cider and peppermint, rides on a horse-drawn wagon to your chosen hunting ground. When they ran out of Frasers for good, we moved to a quieter place... and on the high farthest ridge, our last five trees have stood while we hopped between the branches, dodging the brisk wind, finally pointing to yell "How about this one!"










Monday, December 1, 2008

Welcome to my new home!

Older posts can still be found at http://www.americanoutlier.blogspot.com

Check 'em out!