Why October 24th Is My Special Personal Memory

The late Chuck Hughes.
The late Chuck Hughes.

Don’t certain dates stand out in your mind? Of course, there are personal dates like your wedding day or the birth of a child that you will never forget. But I am referring to those dates that are outside of your own life but have an impact on you none the less.

For the Greatest Generation, there were VE and VJ Days. For my boomer bunch, we all know where we were the day when JFK was shot and or when Neil Armstrong sauntered on the moon. For many Chicagoans, the embedded memory is the moment in 2005 the White Sox won the World Series–or maybe you remember the 2016 Cubs championship night.  Or the soon to follow 2016 Election coverage.

Yes, all those days are important to me, but October 24th also has a place in my permanent memory. October 24, 1971, to be precise. Why? It was my senior year in high school. I was at a regional event for United Synagogue Youth, the youth group that I had been insanely active with throughout my high school years. I was reconnecting with the young woman who would become my senior year sweetheart and prom date. And a bunch of us had gathered around a transistor radio (Japanese, I presume) listening to a mediocre Bears team play the Detroit Lions at the old Tiger Stadium.

There was just about a minute left on the clock when a Detroit player, 28-year-old wide receiver Chuck Hughes, dropped to the turf. The stadium and broadcasters fell silent. Hughes never moved, he was never resuscitated. This trained athlete, the father of a 23-month-old son, is the only player in the history of the National Football League to die during a  game.

I have never looked at October 24th the same way. The collision of fun and romance with the stark reality of mortality and tragedy made a mark on me that I never fail to reflect on as this day rolls around. No one was assassinated, no one made a memorable quote or won the Presidency, but my memory will always be there. That October 24th girlfriend has long vanished from my life, but the death of Chuck Hughes is something I will never forget.


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Streaming Down the Road

streaming5:28 A.M.  Fog seeps in as I press the button and the garage door rolls open. The usual dashboard warning lights blink and buzzers sound. I flip to the audiobook CD on the media player as I slowly back the car out, remembering that our houseguest’s rental car is in the driveway. Pleased with myself for remembering, I manage to maneuver my car expertly out of the garage and head to the street.

5:29-5:30 A.M. Driving through the subdivision in the fog. Fortunately no dog-walkers or joggers this morning, at least none that I can see through the mist.

5:31 A.M. I can barely make out the red light at the major intersection up ahead. I accelerate just enough to position myself to make a left turn the instant the turn arrow illuminates.

5:32 A.M. Tollway bound, the state trooper in their usual spot along the entrance ramp. I wave as I begin to accelerate to expressway speed.

5:33-5:37 A.M. I slide to the left lane, engage cruise control and concentrate on listening to the new Richard Russo novel.

5:38-5:39 A.M. The first construction zone. The left lane narrows, the shoulder shrinks, concrete dividers loom. Reclaiming control from the cruise control, I reduce speed and move one lane to the right.

5:40-5:41 A.M. Back in the left lane, cruise control once again locking in my speed. As I pass the nursing home to the east I check the dashboard timer. Eleven minutes so far, the average for this part of the early morning commute. Ten minutes is a rarity, twelve minutes a disappointment. It all depends on the turn signal at that first intersection.

5:42-5:44 A.M. The road lightis have a strange ethereal appearance in the fog. My mind is back with Richard Russo, as traffic and I shimmy along — the trucks, SUVs, and crossovers all dwarfing my lone sedan. I hold my ground, not letting the bruisers intimidate me.

5:45-5:46 A.M. A longer construction zone, but I whizz past casinos and airports, toll collectors and fashion malls.  A single stanchion remains from the old oasis, a reminder that nothing we build is eternal. Barely looking down, I change CDs and begin listening to the last chapter in my novel.

5:47-5:48 A.M. Cruising past Urlacher Lane. Billboard after billboard. A Chicago hero transformed into a hair transplant pitchman. Is he still a hero?

5:49-5:51 A.M. Slowly move to the right, sharing the interior lanes with drivers heading for backed-up exits, while other cars merge in from other expressways.

5:52-5:54 A.M. My exit lane, then the last toll. I brake to the first stoplight in 22 miles.

5:55 A.M. A right turn into the driveway of the near-empty parking lot, and I grab my briefcase and lunch. I lock the car doors, head for the lab,  and my workday begins.

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I’m Not On a Diet-I’m Just Getting Healthier.

ezekiel-and-flatoutI wasn’t going to write about it, didn’t want to jinx it (kina hora.) But it feels like an accomplishment and I feel like celebrating it.

My weight and my blood sugar were creeping up and up. A couple of oral medications hadn’t corraled my hemoglobin A1c (a measure of glucose control over a three-month span) and nothing was helping me corral my BMI. So as my internist and I discussed various pharmaceutical approaches to issue number one, I told her I would like to see a nutritionist for issue number two. A few mouse clicks from Dr. W.  and I  had an electronic referral to the group’s Diabetes Educator.

That appointment was exactly two months ago. And would it be an exaggeration to say it was a life-changer? Meg the registered dietitian and I sat in her office and we talked. A little about life, a little about jobs, and then a little about how and what I ate. There were no aghast looks from her, no reprimands, not even an eye-roll as I cataloged my daily calorie intake. I didn’t need her to tell me that for a smart guy, I had picked up some dumb habits.

Meg made some suggestions.  She thought I should get back on my original glucose medication, though perhaps at a different dosage. She encouraged frequent blood glucose testing, one thing I demurred on. As far as my eating behavior, she suggested cutting some portion sizes, giving up a treat or two, and trying to balance carbs with proteins. She gave me a suggested calorie count, passed on some manuals and sent me on my way. I gave the pamphlets a glance when I got home and then decided that it was time I flipped the switch and got healthy. But like with most things, although I would incorporate what Meg had said, I would do it my way.

So no, I am not on a diet. I’m not paleo’ing, or Mediteranian’ing, or ketogenic’ing. I eat at all hours of the day if I choose to. I take no issue with gluten or lactose or tree nuts and all are part of my daily routine. When someone asks “What can’t I eat anymore,” my answer is “I can eat anything.”

But the bagels have been replaced by flatbreads and sprouted grain English muffins (1/2 of one is the perfect portion size,) the handsful of pretzels substituted for by mixed nuts and fruits (hoping for a long cherry season,) and now, when Barb suggests splitting an entree at a restaurant, my eyes no longer beam death rays at her.

So here I am 61 days later, and 25 pounds lighter. The BMI calculator on my iPhone says I am still in the overweight zone, but not by much. I feel good, I am gearing up for tennis season and a couple of 5Ks, and cravings don’t seem to be a problem.

Can I keep it up? I’m not sure. And it will be another month before I need to check my hemoglobin A1c. But I think I can do it…kina hora.


Speaking of keeping healthy, I am still looking for sponsors for my 5K SEABlue Run for prostate cancer Support, Education, and Advocacy. Here’s the link!

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A Two-Year Old Anti-Trump Blog Was My Most Popular Ever. What Else was in the Top Ten?

four-fathers-for-four-years
Four Fathers for Four Years

This month marks four years of my online blogging. What started as “Downsize, Maybe,” a chronicle of Barb and I building our empty-nester home, morphed and metamorphosized in ‘Getting More from Les,” —  topically diffuse, told with different voices, but always with the goal of having at least one reader say “yeah, I get that.” With over 350 posts and 175000 words, I could have written two average novels (that’s average in length, not necessarily in content.) But for immediate feedback, there is little that beats blogging.

When people ask what my favorite post is, I usually say that it is the most recent one, whichever that is. The newest baby is always the freshest, the one with the labor pains foremost in memory. All very subjective. But as to which posts have been most widely read, there is factual and objective evidence via Google Analytics, a program that tracks every hit on the blog site. I may not know who is reading the blog, but I can tell what they are reading.

So looking back over the last four years, here are the ten blogs with the highest readership:

10. Would We Still Want to be on Family Feud? We never got the call, but we KNOW we would have won.

9.  Seven Words Pathologists Should Never Use  A reaction against a surprising story from the CDC.

8. Woodman’s Market. This Wisconsin Invader is Worth a Visit. An unsolicited glowing review of Woodman’s Market. I still shop there.

7. A Middle of the Road Democrat’s Letter to Presiden-Elect Trump. Some pre-inauguration requests from a more naive me.

6. Is Curiosity Worth Losing a Job Over? Lessons from the Jessie (sic) Smollett Affair. A look at how some Northwestern Medical Center  employees fared worse than Jussie Smollett.

5. Trump News Conference: Both Sides Responsible for Solar Eclipse. You never know what he will say next!

4. Is Terry Boer’s Autobiography the Bore of a Lifetime?  My zombie book review. It keeps rising from the dead.

3. An Open Letter to Doug Parker, CEO of American Airlines. Yes I grumbled over having to spend a night in Detroit instead of Miami.

2. Carson’s Department Stores are Closing for Good and I Care. Do You?  Reminiscing over a lifetime with a Chicago icon.

And at #1 on the hit parade, by a wide, wide margin. This post didn’t quite go viral, but it at least went bacterial.

1. It is Time to Repeal and Replace Donald Trump. My feelings during the health care legislation situation. Who thinks my feelings have changed since?

So that, in a nutshell are the highlights of the last four years. I don’t know what’s ahead for the next four years, but I promise to keep writing and do my best. Thanks to all the loyal readers. Keep those cards and letters coming!

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Heading Back to the Tribune and ChicagoNow

Hello subscribers–and you know who you are.

For almost three years, my blog had been running in ChicagoNow, the digital media arm of The Chicago Tribune. It’s a fun place to post, with lots of camaraderie among the bloggers. And I was proud to have won several writing awards while there.

For the last month, I have been posting here on WordPress instead, and have gotten a slew of new readers. However, I have found a few technical drawbacks here, including difficulty in editing, poor search engine visibility, and a less powerful analytics engine.

For these reasons, I will resume posting at ChicagoNow. If you are a subscriber here and want to continue to be notified of my new blog posts (and who wouldn’t want to be!) please send your name and email address to me at les.raff@post.com. I will add you to the ChicagoNow subscription list.

Hope to hear from you all in my new (old) space.

Les

Who are You? Let’s Keep on Rocking.

The early Who rocked with Tommy and Who’s Next.


My favorite album list has covered everything from humor to crooners to rock’n’rulers. Now with Pete Townshend and Roger Daltry about to go on tour as the living half of The Who, it’s a good time to add some music from England’s Maximum R&B band.

Rock opera? Who had heard of such a thing? Until Pete T. decided he wanted to expand beyond the singles concept and tie a whole album together around a single theme.

Out came Tommy, the deaf, dumb, and blind boy who suffered traumas, wanted to lead us to salvation, and oh yeah, sure played a mean pinball. The album had an overture, it had a main character, it had comic relief, and it had rejection. Operatic grandeur, years before Bohemian Rhapsody. And I could enjoy it because unlike most great operas it wasn’t in Italian.

Tommy had great songs; I’m Free. Acid Queen. Pinball Wizard. I have caught Barb singing along to See Me, Feel Me. Countless live recordings, a rip-roaring movie, and the Broadway musical have all driven Tommy even further into our brains.

But Tommy isn’t the Who’s masterpiece. I’ll give that title to 1971’s Who’s Next. Ladies, don’t get turned off by the guys peeing on the front cover. From Baba O’Riley (or do you call it Teenage Wasteland?) at the start to Won’t Get Fooled Again at the end, I can listen endlessly to every track. Yes, a friend of mine dumped on Behind Blue Eyes, but he makes his living as a film guy. Leave the music to me, mate.

It’s Chicago cold out now. I’m going to find those Swedish headphones of mine, clamp ’em on, and listen to that Roger Daltry scream in Won’t Get Fooled Again. Want to join me?

I am Joining the Shutdown. How About You?

no workThe Federal Shutdown, partial as it may be, is now in Week #5. And after much consideration, I have decided to join the shutdown. For the foreseeable future, there will be no more work from me!

What does this mean? This is how the rest of the weekend is going to go. Help make the bed? No way! Barb will just have to handle that heavy duvet and put karate chops in the pillows all by herself. I won’t be bothered.

Sunday is usually a grocery shopping day. But sorry Sunset Foods, Whole Foods and Mariano’s. I won’t be wandering down any of your aisles today, comparing prices, eating free samples or squeezing the produce or the Charmin. I won’t even take advantage of 24/7 Woodman’s Market. I am on SHUTDOWN!

A lot of snow on the ground. You think that I am going to shovel? I am not going out in THIS cold. And I don’t know what to tell you, Milo. No dog walking for me today. It’s a Shutdown Day.

How about my usual job of clearing the kitchen table and washing the dishes after supper? Sorry, it just isn’t in the cards. Although I am willing to compromise. If we use paper plates, I will agree to personally toss the used dishes in the recycle container. No matter what else is going on I do whatever I can for the good of the planet.

Tomorrow is Martin Luther King Day. Students and teachers have their day off, but it is a work day for me. HA! I will certainly still be on shutdown. Look at biopsy slides? I think not. Sign out all those Purchase Orders that end up on my desk? Good luck with that! Keep on preparing for my quarterly Lab-Clinical Quality Assurance Meeting. You are joking, right? It’s going to be just another shutdown day for me.

So I think I see the next few weeks or even the next few months. I’ll be sitting around watching television, surfing the Web, eating fast food, and sending ridiculous pieces to social media. Just call me Dr. President!


The opinions are those of the author and not of UroPartners, LLC.


 

Everything Old is New Again

balloon
Up, up and away!

It’s time for a trial balloon. For the last 3 years, the Blog has been written and published as part of ChicagoNow, the digital media arm of the Chicago Tribune. And I am still an official contributor there. But like many of the other wonderful writers on the ChicagoNow site, the number of ads that are run, and their placement in the multiple spots in the blog, have been driving me just a little crazy. It is also frustrating that comments to the blog can only be added to registered Facebook users.

So I am giving WordPress another try. WordPress is where the blog started, back when it was a mirror and sounding board for our home building experience. As regular readers know, the blog has evolved from those early days, with anything being fair game. I just hope that every blog gives readers at least one “AHA” moment–that feeling that “this has happened, or at least it could happen, to me.”

It will take me a little while to get my feet wet here. The format for creating blogs is a little different, and some editing errors may creep in from time to time. But I hope the changes will be worthwhile. If not, I can always rejoin the ChicagoNow gang. As Barb knows I’ve never been one to slam a door when it can be left open just a little bit.

I promise that with my next post I will be back to my regularly scheduled content. Since comments should be easier to post, let me know what you think. And if you are a new reader, please take a moment to subscribe, using one of the various means the site provides. And thanks for taking the ride with me!

 

photo credit: Mr. Greenjeans via photopin (license)