Huskie Nation

 

There may be some things you don’t know about me. What you probably do know by now is that I am a proud and passionate Huskie.  I am a fan of a school that some people have never heard of, but it’s my school. The unexpected transformation to loyal Huskie needed just a few minutes in 2003. This is how it went down.

 

Just so you know

We simply say Northern. Officially, it’s Northern Illinois University. NIU for short. Years ago, they said NI.  

DeKalb is where Northern is located. Big D, Big K. All of the letters are pronounced.

It’s Huskie, not Husky. Of all the schools with the canine mascot, we may be the only singular spelling of Huskie.

 http://www.niuhuskies.com/trads/niu-trads.html

Northern sucks

The weekend before Labor Day, 2003. My dad was with some of his friends at the tavern they hung out at back in the day. I was in town that weekend, and stopped in just as a pool for the Top 25 was being passed around the bar. Maryland was ranked, and was opening the season at Huskie Stadium. A chorus of “Northern sucks” circled the room when the game in DeKalb was mentioned. Something deep inside of me suddenly snapped. Without saying anything, I knew that each of these guys had a connection to Northern. Everyone in Chicagoland has family, friends, neighbors, and co-workers who went to Northern.  Everyone. That moment changed me, and my life has since become much more meaningful.  Within a few short minutes, my loyalty suddenly began. Each of those guys lost money on that game. The Huskies went on to finish the 2003 season with 10 wins and only two losses. The two losses were to division opponents, and prevented a bowl game appearance when the MAC had only two guaranteed bowl games. Maybe we’ll talk about that some other time.

espn.go.com/ncf/recap?gameId=232402459

 

How did this happen?

On the weekend of my graduation, Bill Mallory took the team to the California Bowl. After winning the MAC and California Bowl in 1983, a few bad coaching decisions and doomed conference affiliations distanced me from Northern. A move to Minnesota further removed me from DeKalb. By the time Coach Novak took over a failing football program in late 1995, I had only minimally kept abreast of the team and school. I had always donated to the school, but barely followed the football program.  Coach Novak  started winning games in 2000, and by 2002 I began to pay attention. We had a program we could be proud of, because of Joe Novak. That August Saturday in 2003 lead me to where I am today. There are days I wonder what my life would be like if I did not become involved.  The friends, the trips, and the games might never have happened for me.

www.niuhuskies.com/sports/m-footbl/mtt/joe_novak_242655.html

 

Game day

It’s not just the game. It’s agonized over the tailgate menu. It’s hanging out with Diesel, our mascot. It’s planning trips to towns you probably would never visit.  We have been to Shreveport, Annapolis, Boise, and San Jose. Our trips have taken us on board the USS Midway, to the Crypt of John Paul Jones, and through the Palouse. It’s meeting the football parents, and keeping in touch with former parents. It’s friendships with alums who would otherwise never cross paths. My Huskie friends include teachers, police officers, entrepreneurs, guitar collectors, and pinball enthusiasts. We range in age from 30s to 60s. It’s watching players develop, and following the recruiting process.  It’s bringing friends to DeKalb and Huskie Stadium.  It’s watching the children of tailgate friends grow up. It’s learning Northern history.  It’s following former players after they leave DeKalb. We’re watching you, Chandler Harnish.

 

What it means

Being a Huskie means having to explain our loyalty to people who didn’t go to the school they are currently fans of.  We educate about the MAC to guys who think they are sports fans. We don’t have the drama of a prima donna mentality. If a kid gets into trouble, he is off the team. For a modest donation, we can park in the shadow of Huskie Stadium, and know our contributions are appreciated. Instead of mindlessly flipping to an SEC or Big 12 game, maybe you should tune in a MAC game.  Join us.  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Genealogy Manifesto

Fifteen years ago, I suddenly became involved in a new hobby. While visiting with cousins over pizza and beer, an envelope with a few death certificates, birth certificates, and obituaries was passed around. My mom had started to gather some vital records a few years before she died, and the contents of the envelope looked to be copies my uncle had made of what my mom had found.                                                                                                                                                                            My cousins and I knew who Pa (our grandpa) and Dede (our great-grandpa) were, but who were these other people in this envelope? The morning after pizza, a realtor's ad in the Suburban Life had a listing for the duplex my grandparents had owned in Riverside. Was it coincidence, irony, or random events? Something was telling me to start researching my family.                                                                                                                                                             Back in Minnesota, I spent those first few evenings with my mom’s paperwork arranged on the floor in an attempt to figure out who fit where. Death certificates for my grandpa and great-grandpa were in the native tongue. Two birth certificates for sisters with a last name I did not recognize. A car accident in Florida in 1960 claimed the life of one relative when he was only 42 years old. I am connected to all of these different people, but I didn't know anything about them. Progress has been sporadic during these 15 years, but I have learned a bit of local and national history along with the genealogy. I also learned there can be errors in obituaries, census records, birth certificates, and death certificates.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                           
 I have since been to my great-grandma's grave in South Dakota, on a scorching hot summer weekend. One Thanksgiving Friday was spent walking two of the ethnic Chicagoland cemeteries. A trip through Wisconsin was detoured in order to visit two cemeteries in a little town. One of the buildings my grandpa first lived at was near Morton East and Central Federal. J. Sterling Morton was the founder of Arbor Day, and J. Sterling Morton High School was named for him. J. Sterling’s son Joy created the salt empire. Central Federal Savings and Loan is part of the Bohemian Wall Street on Cermak Avenue. Anton Cermak was the only foreign born mayor of Chicago. After he was assassinated in 1933, 22nd Street in Chicago and the western suburbs was renamed in his honor.
                                                                                                                                                                                                                                     
Shortly after posting the few clues I had accumulated into a genealogy message board, a guy in California with the same last name as my great-grandma's maiden name contacted me. He relayed me to another relative in Chicagoland with the same last name as my great-grandma's. They pronounce their name differently from the way my grandma did, but we're related. Your Bohemian grandma is your Babi, which is pronounced like bubby. Remember Bubby Brister of the Steelers? Before I knew anything about genealogy, I wondered why he was named after his grandma. Your Bohemian grandpa is Dede, pronounced like Du-yed-uh. One of the first characters mentioned in Upton Sinclair’s The Jungle is a Dede.                                                                                                                                                               My mom and uncle had a grandma who was called Babi by everyone in the family. The title was not passed down to my grandma for our generation. Babi died when I was three years old, so I have very few memories of her. She never learned to speak English, maybe that is why I could not understand who she was when we went to visit. Babi was one of the younger of 12 kids, and my two new genealogy cousins were never able to find anything on her in their research until they found me. I knew very little of Babi’s older siblings until I found my genealogy cousins. Now there were three of us from the family doing the searching.                                                                                                                                                                My grandma's sister died from pertussis (whooping cough) when she was two. One relative died in the Philippines in WWII. The influenza pandemic of 1918 claimed the life of one family member. The brother of my mom and uncle died of diphtheria. Another relative lost his life at two years old to cholera, in 1906. As far as we can tell, no one in our family died in the Eastland disaster.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                        My great grandpa was a stone mason, my grandpa was a butcher. My mom mentioned more than once that my grandpa came home beat up and bloody when organizing the butchers into a union. There was a time when unions were needed to protect the workers. A few relatives worked in the breweries and at Western Electric. The vacuum tube and loudspeaker were developed by Western Electric, and the Hawthorne Effect was researched at the Hawthorne Works of Western Electric in Cicero. One couple in the family worked at Electro-Motive. EMD was a GM division that was the largest builder of diesel locomotives.                                                                                                                                                                                                    After a few more successes, another relative contacted me. Her maiden name was the same as my grandpa's last name, and she was a few years younger than my mom. Her dad lived at the same address my grandpa lived at in the 1920 census. We knew we were related, but it was not until a relative in the old country we found through facebook proved where we had a common ancestor. We recently found a woman in the Cities who is connect through my great-grandpa's little sister. There is a woman in Arizona who came from that small town in Wisconsin where some of our family is buried. Now there are seven of us searching.

Honza turns 52

You don't make it this far in life without wonderful family and friends. I am pretty lucky to have friends from LT, Northern, and Rochester. Along the way, I have realized how very random and fragile our lives are. Some things are pretty obvious, other stuff takes time to figure out.

You can't make a girl love you.
She'll move to Texas after graduation

Life is too short to drink cheap beer.
It's a big world out there

There is no substitute for horsepower.
No, you can't borrow my truck

Cheer for your own school.
Your alma matters

It's not easy being the baby cousin.
They never take you seriously

Gather the news from multiple sources.
Beware the gullible liberals, and the stubborn conservatives

A pretty face does not mean a pretty heart.
She will order the most expensive item on the menu

Be vary of anyone who mistreats animals.
If they don't respect life, they won't care about you

It's not what you spend, it's what you get.
You get what you pay for

Drive right, pass left.
We all have somewhere to go, get the hell out of my way

If it's too good to be true, it probably is.
You really didn't need that

You will never find a friend or lover identical to you.
Don't hit on the drummer

They don't say Cali here

The lingering need for a vacation coincided with the upcoming Barrett-Jackson collector car auction in Scottsdale, Arizona. This guy made the decision to get out of 507 for some sunshine and octane. No friends, no date, just me for six days.

http://www.barrett-jackson.com/scottsdale/

Hertz failed to send an email alert upon touching down at LAX, so a trip to the counter upsold me to a 37,000 mile Camaro convertible. Arizona plates, Toledo Rocket yellow, but not an SS. Judging from the amount of paint scratches, she had been ridden hard and put away wet. Learned long ago to bring the Garmin when on the road, and the necessary addresses were already dialed in.

First stop was to meet my friend Brian at Randy's Donuts. The recognizable Randy's with the donut on the roof. Three different homeless people approached me for money during our short visit. Brian was smart to ignore them. I must have looked like a tourist.

http://randys-donuts.com/frame.html

Brian jumped on his Victory, and I followed to the shop where his '69 Mustang is being restored. Tom runs the shop, and he came very close to talking me into taking back to Minnesota a '65 Impala they had recently brought in. She was a Mary Ann, not a Ginger. Two-door hardtop, but only a 283. Ermine White with a black interior. Original California black plates, and low miles. As my fingers worked their way up her tapered C-pillar, Brian reminded me there would be plenty of time to shop during the coming days.

"You're in California. Where do you want to go?" My sheepish reply sent us to Santa Monica Pier, to see the revised ending point of Route 66. Growing up, our stretch of Route 66 was Joliet Road. On a clear day in our part of Chicagoland, 66 appears to end at Sears Tower.

http://www.santamonica.com/visitors/what-to-do/arts-and-culture/historical-landmarks/

Dinner was at a beach bar, then a walk around Manhattan Beach. The lifeguard shacks reminded me of that infamous LT alum, David Hasslehoff. Brian stressed in no uncertain terms that no one in California says Cali.

http://www.suntimes.com/entertainment/movies/12878040-421/hasselhoff-nears-60-and-i-still-look-good.html

Tuesday morning sent me to downtown Los Angeles, for a visit to the Petersen Automotive Museum. The website gave the impression of more extensive exhibits, but still an educational visit. Two groups of unbehaved grade school field trips ruined the experience, so the trip was cut short.

http://petersen.org/

Passed by the La Brea tar pits on the way out of town, but did not think to hit Sunset Strip before heading to Arizona for my intended destination.

Suburban sprawl on eastbound I-10 gave way to an uphill desert landscape. Three lanes dropped to two, and the semi traffic increased. After crossing into Arizona, palm trees were replaced by cactus. With the sun setting behind me and no traffic visible, I felt like Clint Eastwood in a spaghetti western.

Remember when Don Draper went to Los Angeles? The Eisenhower Interstate System may not have been complete in 1964, but there is now an exit to get to Anna Draper’s house in San Pedro. Farther along I-10 we passed by the edge of Palm Springs, where Don met up with that group of international travelers.

http://www.imcdb.org/vehicle_387339-Imperial-Crown-Convertible-VY1-M-1964.html

Dropped the luggage in Tempe, then made my way to Scottsdale for the final Monday hours of Barrett-Jackson. Watching the annual auction on SPEED does not compare with the overall sensory overload. Clark Gable's Mercedes, Fatty Arbuckle's 1919 Pierce Arrow, the first 1967 Shelby Mustang, President Bush's King Ranch F-150, the Packard Panther, and Virgil Exner's Chrysler Diablo. Amazing stuff.

The left turn signals around Scottsdale are activated after the through traffic has passed, not before.

Westworld in the Wednesday morning sunshine revealed a huge complex, perfectly suited for televised events. Barrett-Jackson has proposed building a permanent structure, so the massive tents do not have to be assembled every year. Even with priority parking, I spent time wandering the lots at the end of the night looking for the Camaro. At least it was yellow, but so was the ZL1 convertible that was also in Lot 6. Food vendors ranging from turkey legs to gyros. Outdoor displays by Airstream and Cessna. Indoor vendors with artwork, garage supplies, and shiny things for the ladies. The Ride and Drive exhibit was punctuated with the smells and sounds of hot laps by Bondurant Corvettes.

http://www.bondurant.com/

An unusual cold spell dropped the temperatures early in the week into the 50s. I made sure to pack cool weather gear along with shorts and T-shirts. All of my sweatshirts are from Northern, and I never got to wear shorts. Must have been oozing Huskie early in the week, because my attire started a few conversations. Met a woman from downstate who does automotive paintings. Bought a tailgate flagpole from a guy who lives in Somonauk, his daughter goes to Northern. Met a couple from Minnesota at the open bar for bidders. Bumped into a guy with a Central Michigan shirt.

Automotive events will always draw the grizzled hot rodders and Harley guys, but Barrett-Jackson brought out the younger girlfriends and trophy wives. There was also an absence of age appropriate attire for both men and women. At least there was no male shirtlessness.

Auction bidding increased each day, with the lowest prices on Tuesday starting between $20,000 and $30,000. Even as a little kid I have appreciated the showroom fresh examples, and never understood the wild customs. Strange how an untouched original may bring less money than something with crazy paint, a crate motor, and 20" wheels. The ’72 GMC Sierra I had been watching would have blown my budget, and I probably do not need two Sierras.

Some of the auction cars have poster boards explaining their pedigree and restoration. There should be a drinking game every time a misspelled Camaro, Bel Air, or Galaxie is spotted. Don't get me started on the it's, their, and were. The common automotive phrase "______ needs replaced" still baffles me.

Knowing the crowds would get to me, I planned a trip to Winslow. Amazing how one line from a song can capture the imagination of a generation.

http://standinonthecorner.com/

Passing through Payson on northbound 87 brought the first glimpse of snow cover. By the time we hit 7,400 feet, several of inches were on the ground. The pavement was clear and dry.

Coming down into the next valley, cactus sprouted up again. Winslow was on the original Route 66, but I-40 took all of the traffic and business from the town. Small houses and some old buildings are all that are left. An older woman from Park Ridge asked me to take her picture in front of the mural at the park. I was wearing another Northern sweatshirt, and the temperature had not gone up. The faded mural on the side of a brick building depicts a window reflection of a glancing girl in the flatbed Ford. There is even an appropriate Ford parked on the street in front of the park. The second floor windows of the mural feature an eagle on a windowsill and a glimpse of an embracing couple in another window.

Friday morning sent me to Desert Valley Auto Parts, north of Phoenix. Two dollars gained me access to 50 acres of parted out relics. One section of Mustangs, and another grouping of Camaros, but no Corvettes or first generation T-birds. Some people see junk, but I see sad stories of the remains of cool vehicles that never got a chance.

http://www.dvap.com/

Eventually found a Jimmy John's in Tempe, but the In-and-Out Burger was always busy. The Chipolte was closed on Saturday afternoon, but Old Town Scottsdale was jumping. I could see Northern in the Fiesta Bowl sometime soon. Too much Subway and Jack in the Box. Did not get to investigate the new Portillo's on Shea. Scottsdale seemed a little affluent, but there were still stretches of strip malls featuring title loans and adult videos. Drove around the neighborhoods of Scottsdale on Saturday afternoon, but I couldn’t see myself living there. Scattered trees, but no water or wildlife. If it’s a desert, why are the lots so small? Not like it's real land or anything.

Friday afternoon at Barrett-Jackson brought the hammer prices to over $100,000. Entertaining and educational, but a little depressing. Needed to remind myself these are all museum and collection vehicles, not top down rides for ice cream or morning coffee.

The top on the Camaro didn't come down until Friday afternoon. By Saturday afternoon, mental exhaustion and a sore throat had set in. Turned in my bidder paddle at the office, and picked up my deposit check. No far flung bidding for this guy. Maybe having a friend with would have pushed me to stick around for the Batmobile and Green Hornet Shelby on Saturday primetime, but the TV in the hotel room did nicely.

Rochester was eight degrees when I left, and eight degrees when I returned. The cold that started on Saturday has lingered for two more weeks. Some people can blow a vacation at the pool or at a casino, I prefer to learn.

This retro mid-century house

If you're ever in a position to help out an older relative or clean out the house you grew up in, the TH blog is now full of helpful hints!


After my dad spent his last six weeks in the hospital and a nursing home, I suddenly became responsible for two households that are 370 miles and three states apart. While emptying out our mid-century split level and taking over the bills, I quickly incorporated a lot of hints from Heloise and Mrs. Meyers.


www.heloise.com/hints.html#heloise_updates
www.mrsmeyers.com



My plan was to keep, donate, or recycle as much as possible, while sending as little as possible to the landfill. Anything sentimental or collectible remains for me and my cousins. Newer clothing and household items get donated. Recycle the usual items, and properly dispose of the hazardous stuff.


Being a 1960s split level, I wanted to incorporate at least a few features from back in the day when the time comes to stage for selling. Realizing not all things retro have mass appeal, I turned to Pam at Retro Renovation.

For more information on the mid-century lifestyle, check out Pam's blog:
http://retrorenovation.com


If there is any distance involved with your project, weekend trips may be the only way to accomplish any work. Think about leaving a few changes of working clothes at the house. It's not sexy, but a sleeping bag on a cot is an easy way to get some overnight rest when there is minimal furniture. Stock up on some snackage
and beverages so you're not running out to the Jewel during every visit. If you're bringing your dog, leave some food, treats, bowls, and blankies at the house.


Storage:
Stackable 12 or 27 gallon plastic storage totes from Lowe's or Home Depot. Nine of the 12 gallon totes fit nicely in the bed of my truck. These are great for hauling things that will be kept, and the hinged lid keeps stuff inside. Cable ties (zip ties) can be used to keep the lids closed. The "Made in USA" collection at
Container Store also has some nice choices.


File folder milk crates for any papers that need to be mobile. Folders hang in the crate, and can hold things like bills and statements.


Smaller cardboard boxes are usually available at your favorite liquor store. Prestige on 55th and Willow Springs tends to have a lot of empties. Always ask if it is OK to take the empty boxes, and that nice merlot will help the packing go smoothly.


Paper ream boxes. Uniform size for donations or storage. The sturdy lid can be used either on top or underneath the box. Look for these at work, or ask friends to collect them where they work.


Olmsted County Recycling Center:
www.co.olmsted.mn.us/health/recyclingcenterplus.asp
One of the benefits here in Rochester is the county recycling center. Along with the typical recycling, OCRC accepts items such as furniture, mattresses, TVs, appliances, and demolition debris. It was easier to drive a load of stuff back here than to locate a recycling location in Chicagoland.


Shredder:
Upgrade your shredder. Chances are there will be bills, statements, and cancelled checks to be disposed of.My recent $99 unit from Staples does a nice job. Don't let your name or address get in the wrong hands.


Savers:
www.savers.com
Similar to Goodwill, and a new Chicagoland location opened at Highland and 88. There is also location in Naperville on 59. Clothing and household stuff are cheerfully accepted, and will help those in need. Keep the receipts for tax donations.
Another option for household stuff is to help any kids who are heading off to college. Think about taking pictures of your donations, in case the IRS starts asking questions.


Half Price Books:
www.hpb.com
Sell those unwanted books and CDs. I love my books, but there were a lot of books and movies in the house that I had no interest in. There is a location in Countryside Plaza on LaGrange Road. Don't expect a huge amount of money, but
the stuff will be sold or disposed of properly.


Tools:
Hang on to whatever hand tools and power tools are in the house. They will get used while getting the house ready to sell or rent. The inexpensive tools were donated, but we kept all of the brand name tools.


Garden tools:
Don't forget to temporarily hang on to any garden hoses, trowels, clay pots, and shovels. There may be some landscaping to be accomplished.


Food:
Unopened food in the pantry and cabinets went to the local food shelf. Make sure any non-perishable food is within its expiration date before donating.


Electrical:
Install lamp timers in the living room and bedrooms to make the house appear lived in. Think about dusk-to-dawn light sensors or motion detectors on exterior fixtures. Install a programmable thermostat, or adjust the existing thermostat if you're not going to be at the house often. Run ceiling fans in the appropriate rotation so that air circulates. The blades should push air down in the summer and pull air upwards in the winter.


Animal shelter:
Bedding and towels would be appreciated by your local shelter. Ask if there are any other household items they may be in need of.


Office supplies:
Donate extra office supplies to your old school, or schools where friends teach. Consider folders, notebooks, paper pads, pens, and pencils.


Magazines and newspaper subscriptions:
Upon cancelling subscriptions, a refund check will be mailed. Payment may take a few weeks to arrive, but every bit helps.


Alcohol:
Learned that hard liquor has an extremely long shelf like, if kept cool and dark. Beer and wine are less fortunate in their storage. Some of my parents' liqour cabinet ironically helped stock a Mad Men party.


Medications:
www.fda.gov/forconsumers/consumerupdates/ucm101653.htm
Older people tend to take a lot of meds, and there were quite a few prescriptions scattered throughout the house that needed to be disposed of properly.


eBay:
For the collectible items too nice to donate, think about selling on eBay. Research the items found to see if there is a market or interest in them. That junk may be some dude's treasure!


Garage sale:
Sometimes it is best to just get rid of stuff as quickly as possible. Remember to keep the prices low so that things sell. You're not out to make a lot of money with a garage sale.


Archival storage:
www.bagsunlimited.com
If you've found some cool collectibles, properly store them.


Documentation:
Keep any and all receipts accumulated during the project. Paperwork from Home Depot, Lowe's, gas stations, and utilites may come in handy.


The trades:
Ask the local friends and neighbors for recommendations on plumbers and electricians. There will be projects that just can't be tackled by one person on a weekend. I was lucky to have a tile setter and a plumber on retainer.


Hopefully these ideas can help those thrust in this difficult situation. Don't forget to reconnect with the neighbors and neighborhood while attending to the house. Writing this update to the blog has been very therapeutic. Thanks for reading!

Ironica

Imagine if you will, a month with a graduation party, a block party, a high school post-reunion party, and a visit to the family cabin.

Hinsdale South vs. Hinsdale Central:
Drove by Hinsdale Central and Hinsdale South during the most recent visit home. People are losing their houses and their jobs, gas is up to three dollars per gallon, and a greedy union has disrupted the football schedules for two conferences by going on strike. Many Chicagoland construction projects have been impacted by the stike, but to mess with schools and football seems so wrong. Recent articles in the Trib and Suburban Life have the football field at Hinsdale Central almost replaced, but Hinsdale South is still dirt unil October. The union should be ashamed. There are a lot more important contruction projects underway than football fields, but the actions of an arrogant union have inconvenienced a lot of people.

www.mysuburbanlife.com/hinsdale/news/education/x524159454/Game-on-at-Central-South-still-up-in-air-after-strike-resolved

Block party:
The block party in my old neighborhood offered a chance to meet the new neighbors. Because there are only three remaining residents from when I grew up back in the day, only a few faces were recognized. A little awkward a first. One of the houses on the block was build by a family from Willow Springs. They introduced us to Maple Lake, Argonne, Sag St. James Cemetery, and Little Red Schoolhouse shortly after we moved in. The widow sold the house a few years ago, and the new family recently lost the house due to foreclosure. The widow died in a nursing home this past week. A teardown lot across the street may finally have a new owner. Another teardown on the corner that had been on the market for quite a while now has a family.

Most people in Chicagoland assume I live in the Cities, just because of the Minnesota license plates. One of the neighbors spun around when I mentioned Rochester. Turns out they were moving out of Rochester when I was moving in. Filled them in on the new Trader Joe’s, the rebranded Redwood Room, and the Highway 52 expansion project. We jokingly agreed that Rochester is half townie and half transplant. Half of those transplants only stay a few years.

One neighbor that I did know at the block party lamented that her son’s band was not able to practice in their garage, due to complaints from a neighbor on another street. No idea what kind of band, but they apparently don’t play Freebird. Had to ask that. After cleaning up and heading out to attend my nephew’s graduation party, Freedbird was playing on the radio under the buffet table.

Freebird:
After the coincidence of hearing Freebird after mentioning it in passing, several other songs popped up on XM throughout graduation party and block party the weekend. Van Halen’s Jump (dolphin show at Brookfield Zoo), Motels (college girlfriend), and Survivor (Jim Peterik used to live on Stone Ave). After retuning home and getting Bella out for another walk, the block party was still going strong. From a few blocks away, we heard Don’t Stop Believing (summer of 1981) and Meat Loaf. Wow, that brought up some memories.



Paranorma activity:
One of my cousins introduced me to a neighbor couple at the graduation party. The wife was intrigued with my genealogy work after mentioning an afternoon was spent at the Berwyn Library looking up obituaries in the Berwyn Life. Her husband joined the conversation, and confided that there have been some strange goings on at their home. Apparently someone who had died in their house has never left the house. Not a lot of details, but they offered enough information for me to start a search on the resident. Genealogy and ghost hunting use many of the same tools.

Unknown Huskie:
Bella and I were out for one of our daily walks in the old neighborhood. A neighbor stopped on the sidewalk to greet her, then got into his car and drove off. Too late to realize he was wearing a Northern shirt and his car has NIU plates. The guys is obviously an involved alum, so we will have to introduce ourselves the next time we see him.

LT79:
No strange coincidences at the post-party. Jane has a lovely home, and put out quite the spread.

Rich Port YMCA:
Even after the early ‘80s addition, SRO housing made the place creepy. Demolition is underway, and LaGrange will soon have more shopping and dining choices. Sad to see the Y go away, but there are now more practical fitness choices in the area. Didn’t the Y not open on Sundays until around noon?

Cabin neighbors:
My cousins and I took a ride around the lake in the pontoon on a gorgeous afternoon. Stopped to introduce ourselves to a couple who were out on their pier. First names were exchanged, and the husband mentioned they had lived in elsewhere Wisconsin but now live year-round at the lake. Same first name, same town, was this the guy I sold postcards of the lake on eBay to a few years ago? They didn’t take us up on our invitation to stop by later that evening, so there is another question for another day.

Meanwhile, back in Rochester:
Maybe the Northern T-shirt I always wear at the gym gave me away, but a guy asked me if I am from Illinois. Turns out the guy is from Rockford, but went to ISU. My niece goes to Illinois State. One of my friends from Northern is from Rockford. He is apparently in med shool at the Clinic (Mayo Clinic), and seemed a little bewildered with the culture shock in Rochester after living downtown Chicago. I will need to get him the details on living in Rochester.

Enough random coincidences for one month. Please stay tuned for the next update.

Kilts, skirts, and big blocks

Summertime means automotive events in the upper midwest. Every July, it’s the Iola Old Car Show in central Wisconsin for a weekend to wander the swap meet (parts for sale) and car corral (cars for sale). As with most every outdoor automotive event, there is the usual selection of tattoos, muffin tops, and inappropriate shirtlessness.

The fashion police did not make it to the parking field. Two young ladies directing traffic were decked out as schoolgirls. White blouses, plaid skirts, and the little white socks. Their parents must be proud.

One guy was wearling a kilt. No luck convincing a woman selling intake manifolds that the dude was not in a skirt. It’s a kilt. Utilikilts. Look it up. They are not cheap. I am not looking.

This year was the first time spent in the actual show, to devote time to this new hobby of automotive art. Photographs were to be clicked, but two days of bright mid-day sunshine made photography rather difficult. Most guys take snapshots of cars with no regard to lighting, shadows, or reflections. The weekend collection quickly dwindled to just a few acceptable shots, and they are over on facebook.

Parade of Progress

The restored GM Futurliner paid a visit to the Minnesota State Fairgrounds this past weekend, and I was able to climb into the cabin for a visit. Like the GM Motorama, Parade of Progress offered a postwar glimpse into the wonders of the future. Technology we take for granted was
merely a dream sixty years ago.

www.futurliner.org

Also on hand at the Fairgrounds were all sorts of pre-1964 rides. Take your pick of street rods, showroom fresh models, bizarre customs, and creepy rat rods. As much fun was had deciphering the vanity license plates as checking out the cool cars and trucks.

My favorite? A 1957 Oldsmobile Fiesta hardtop station wagon.
www.plan59.com/wagons/wagons038.htm
Classy and sporty, in a red station wagon.

The most unusual? A 1958 Chevrolet Delray sedan delivery.
www.58classicchevy.com/body-styles-delray.html
Sedan delivery, but with windows all around. No back seat,
so a true sedan delivery. The side windows resembled those
on a two-door wagon.

05/18/2010

More ticks than fish

There would have been a newer picture and a photo quiz from this past weekend, but my cheap camera did not have an SD card and my DSLR did not have its battery. Bella remains on the blog for another day.

The Minnesota Fishing Opener is the stuff of legends up here. Twenty years ago, I would not have been able to recite the dates when the trout (04/17) or walleye
(05/15) seasons start. Now I plan a long weekend and agonize over a menu for the Opener weekend. Usually scheduled on Mother’s Day weekend, this year the Opener was the week following Mother’s Day. Some years it rains, some years it snows. This Opener was dry and pleasant.

Nine guys ranging in age from early 20s to very late 40s made the trip this year. Six hours of driving time to cover just under 300 miles, then we gorged ourselves on steak late Friday night.
After a few adult beverages, we trodded into a clearing by the lake to watch stars around midnight. That might be the Big Dipper, or the Little Dipper.

Paddling across a small chain of lakes on Saturday, we saw eagles, loons, and beaver dams. After even more food on Saturday and Sunday, a few of us decided to hike along an old logging road that circles the lake. The difference in geography and geology between nothern and southeastern Minnesota is quite surprising. But like the constellations on Friday night, I could not identify the rocks we saw along the trail on Sunday afternoon. Marc and J2 kept checking for ticks, and I was surprised that no ticks had found me. Steve’s son Jon and I had a problem whenever someone yelled one of our names, so I (older) became J1 and Jon (younger) became J2.

You guys know I am friends to all critters. Russ, the caretaker of the YMCA camp, has a Golden Retriever. GR from Hell would approach our camp fire, then growlbark. Even after tossing him Ritz crackers with squeeze cheese, we would not gain his trust. Growlbark.

After packing up and hitting the road, we stopped near Brainard for dinner. That Brainard, from the Coen Brothers film Fargo. My calf started stinging after we were seated, and a tick crawled across my thumb. Holding out my hand as I raced to the restroom, another tick appeared on the same hand. After disrobing in the handicapped stall, another tick was found inside my jeans and the fourth tick was on a sock. Try the Diablo Burger at Grizzly’s. Maybe they will take over the former Timber Lodge in Rochester. The fifth tick surfaced while passing through Cannon Falls after nightfall.

The fishing? Caught one small Norton on Saturday, and another small one on Sunday morning. We call Northern Pike ‘Norton’. More ticks than fish.

04/26/2010

Last week was Motor Week. Monday started with 04/26. There is an ongoing routine with the local Ford guru when 04/28 and 04/29 roll around. Don’t worry if you don’t get it. Four consecutive days of displacement: 426, 427, 428, and 429.

Bella and I witnessed a rabid raccoon wandering the neighborhood on Monday morning. Bella is my three year old Labsomething. She is finally at the age where they settle down into canine adulthood. Jimmy the cat can be eating or playing, and Bella will not even investigate. Usually. More on them later. The raccoon mysteriously vanished before the city crew arrived.

Excellent visit with my cousins last Friday evening. One of my eclectic hobbies is genealogy, and my cousin handed me an album of family photographs. She made the comment that puts it all in perspective, “If Babi and Dede did not hook up, we wouldn’t be enjoying Summit Extra Pale Ale in the Western Suburbs right now“. All of the decisions made years ago still impact our lives today.

Hawks won Game 5 of the series with Nashville in OT. Watched the game with some friends at our favorite college watering hole in DeKalb. Prior to moving to Minnesota, I though I would become a huge hockey fan. Didn’t happen. The year after arriving here, Norm Green moved the North Stars to Texas. However, I am still loyal to the Chicago teams I grew up with: Bears, Cubs, Blackhawks, and my Huskies.

Bumped into a old high school friend at the Jewel after returning from Spring Homecoming at Northern. For those not from Chicagoland, Jewel and Dominick’s are the two large grocery chains. He recognized me first, and I actually thought he was someone else. We talked, and I realized that the last time time I saw him was at least 15 years ago. Rochester desperately needs an upscale grocery store.