Who Are The People In Your Neighborhood???

“Neighbors, do unto strangers
Do unto neighbors
What you do to yourself, yourself, yourself”
Neighbors--The Rolling Stones, 1981


I feel fairly protected in my neighborhood.

I am not kidding at all, here. I feel as though I am safe on all sides, and I can tell you why.

Four years ago, our neighborhood tried to become historically designated. Our motion stalled and eventually failed in the local government--but one cannot fault the neighbors for trying. I pounded the pavement, met my neighbors in the area, and then learned some fantastic things.

I made friends with people on many protective levels.

Next door to me is Christopher--the mayor of the town. Nice guy--does not rake his leaves enough--but a nice guy. A truck hit a utility pole on the block and the emergency teams responded quickly when I called in to the police as sparking wires were crackling in the street. I gave the address and at first no one responded. I called back after five minutes of no response and gave the address and mentioned to the dispatcher that she should look at the house number one up from mine. She said, “Oh my Gosh, I am sending someone immediately.” Now that was service as within five minutes, all sorts of emergency people arrived. Our street is usually among the first plowed (although that has more to do with the hospital than the mayor) but it seems to be a perk.

On the other side of me is a lawyer. Alan is a good guy, answers legal questions when I have them, and seems to offer strong advice. He cooks out often and always has an interesting comment to make on the Chicago Sports scene--as I am confident he is thrilled with the Sox win this week. He is a baseball fan that likes both the North and the South Siders. Rare and interesting.

Behind us is a Judge--Elizabeth, and her husband on the Planning Commission and a recent Citizen of the Year; his name is Al. We usually chat by the back fence and talk about lawn care and political issues. Al and I are similar in our views of political and lawn care “landscapes,” as it were.

Across the street is a Federal Postal inspector--Jeff. He is a good guy who has dedicated himself to historic preservation and truly fixed up and maintained an older home that was in far worst shape before he owned it and decided to mend it. He is a polite guy who likes to show people his handiwork in the house. I am jealous of his skills.

Dotting the neighborhood is an Econ professor, a retired woman who once ran her own business, a couple that work in the local car manufacturing plant and their sons--one of which took care of our yard when I was laid up last year, a retired couple who worked at a large insurance company in the area, a dentist, a gentleman who works as a set designer for the college, a high school English instructor, a high school social science instructor, three private business owners, some college kids, a few folks who work at the local hospital, a doctor, two nurses, two contractors, a truck driver, a former athletic director who claims to now be a philanthropist, a retired teacher who directs a local chorale group, the street commissioner, and many other people from all walks of life. We wave to our neighbors or chat with them, and they reciprocate in kind.

I have met many neighbors through their pets, as the Econ Professor’s dog is afraid of men, the Judge’s dog used to like to have her head petted (the dog passed away and was from a greyhound rescue group), Alan’s dog leans into me as a sign that it likes me, one of the wives of a contractor has a beagle that is old and barks at me when they walk by, one of the nurses and her husband own a Dalmatian, one of the neighbors--his name is Joe and I do not know his occupation--has a lab that likes me to pet him, and a few have cats like we do that stare out the windows when we walk by.

It reminds me a bit of Mayberry in our neighborhood. We all know each other--even if by passing--and we all are friendly.

We have a local small school across the way which can cause some mischievous behavior. We once had yard ornaments (a custom we thankfully no longer practice) in our yard, and a kid stole one. Two days later, he was standing on my porch, with his father, crying and apologizing for his thievery. I had never met these people, but Dad saw our yard, saw the ornament that matched ours in the kid’s possession, and had the kid shovel the walk as a payment for his crime. He also commented he was concerned that his family did not have a bad reputation--which of course in my eyes they do not. That is an example of a good parent.

When we first moved in, some boys across the street asked my wife if we had kids as they wanted them to play catch with them. Since we did not have kids, I would occasionally play “all-time quarterback” when they were a person down and one of their fathers was unavailable.

This truly is a great neighborhood. And for me, I am protected on the legal, local, and federal levels on all sides. Plus, I “got” to be “all-time QB” for a while. The kids have sadly grown and moved on. My hall of fame days are over, I suppose.

For My Educational Friends in Those Educational Years...

“Sonny sits by his window and thinks to himself
How it's strange that some rooms are like cages.
Sonny's yearbook from high schooI's down from the shelf
And he idly thumbs through the pages--
Some have died...
Some have fled from themselves...
Or struggled from here to get there.
Sonny wanders beyond his interior walls
Runs his hand through his thinning brown hair.

Well I'm accustomed to a smoother ride...
Maybe I'm a dog that's lost his bite.
I don't expect to be treated like a fool no more
I don't expect to sleep the night.
Some people say a lie is just a lie,
But I say the cross is in the ballpark,
Why deny the obvious child?”
--Paul Simon, Obvious Child.

I like school, although I am not really sure when I started liking it, but I like school. With that, I love education and grad school was a place where my true education began.

I miss my old comrades in arms and the educational stimulation. I miss the research (History major--lots of weekends in archival sessions finding shreds of evidence in Milner library or at local historical societies or combing the tombstones at some grave sites) and the discovery associated with it.

Pictured above (ideally if the damn site works) are some friends that I spent many an evening with as we argued some vague point to a series of mindless excursions of “knowledge.” It was always conciliatory and never truly mean spirited.

First is Paul (not his real name--as he was Chinese and his name sounded like Paul so we called him Paul). He was a man we admired because of his command of two languages and his ability to research subjects in English, after having only learned it for two years. He was nothing short of remarkable.

Next is Nathan who wanted to be a college Professor. He liked the idea that I taught high school kids, but felt they would not understand his logic. He was correct, as he often spoke above the heads of his classmates and his professors.

Standing by Nathan is Don, a Junior High teacher in a local school. His students have a wonderful treasure, being taught by Don, as he was so intelligent and could relate his knowledge on their level. He also stayed true to history roots by many repeated visits to ISU.

Next is Devon “The General” as he liked to be called. He teaches up in the inner city of Chicago with a great sense of reaching students who might never have an opportunity to be reached. I often times considered him a miracle worker and a man of intense character and immense concern for the welfare of others. He gave hope and knowledge to some seemingly hopeless and ignorant situations. He reached out to those who often times many of us fail to reach.

Next is me, still content and still plugging away in my job. Yes, I am wearing a Batman tie--but there was a purpose as this picture was taken when we all spoke and gave presentations to a group of History majors and English majors and the public in general. I presented a paper on Batman. Paul’s was on Chinese/American research, Nathan’s on some historical philosophy, I believe. Don’s research was on how the Constitution ignored Slavery; the “General’s” research was how fictional accounts of history cloud the historical perspective.

The last person pictured is Kent--a former fifth grade teacher who loved teaching the younger kids. His paper was on some development in the Civil War, if memory serves. He had a “fun” perspective to the classes we took together and Kent probably shared more grad classes with me than all of the others in the shot. Kent was a positive person with an incredible sense of exploring the “why not’s” instead of the who, what, where, and when’s. His perspective was (and I imagine still is) refreshing and unique. Kent left the profession to search for the almighty capital gains and is now a textbook sales rep.

As we spent three years of debates and discovery, we gained a sense of individuality as well as social role in our group with other grad school colleagues not pictured (I think off and on through those years forty of us drifted through a maze of clases--as none of us were ever without a friend or colleague in the classes we took). We also learned to rely on one another and challenge one another to bring out the best that each of us intellectually had. We all, at some point, contemplated leaving grad school; and we all challenged each other to stay and fight the good fight.

I miss the people and those days.

A fellow educator recently remarked to me in passing that a “master’s degree is just a piece of paper.” I thought the comment was made by someone who will never attain one--and that to me is sad. Not that the educator will not be “educated,” but sad because the educator will miss out on a great, life-altering and self-fulfilling opportunity. Well, I guess a bit sad as the educator will never be as educated as she/he could be. Also a bit confused as to why the educator would make a silly comment--schooling is to an educator like a hammer is to a carpenter. Quite frankly, if educators ignore schooling or find that it is not needed, then the state of education towards the students falters. Anyone not in education reading this, honestly, should be a bit incensed by such comments by a teacher about grad school. Anyone who is an educator who reads those comments by the educator should not only grow incensed, they ought to grab a torch and prepare the stake for burning--but that is another subject for another blog.

I am a better educator for earning the degree; my students are better prepared; and I am a better person now that it is through. To my grad school partners in crime; thanks for pulling out of me the best I had to offer. I only hope I did the same for you.

Let Me Bring You Songs from the Wood

“I have no time for Time Magazine or Rolling Stone.
I have no wish for wishing wells or wishing bones.
I have no house in the country I have no motor car.
And if you think I'm joking, then I'm just a one-line joker in a public bar.
And it seems there's no-body left for tennis; and I'm a one-band-man.
And I want no Top Twenty funeral or a hundred grand.”

--Ian Anderson “Mother England Reverie” from Minstrel In The Gallery 1975.

Let Me Explain…

I really think I should interject a thought to all of my friends and (the often times disregarded) foes alike: I like Jethro Tull.

Not the agronomist that created the seed drill “Jethro Tull,” but the band.

Most of you do not understand it.

My mother once referred to the music as “Flutey-Tooty shit” and my wife simply cannot stand it. She actually threatened to throw a CD out of the car once and said, “that is the worst music I have ever heard, honestly, the worst.”

My brother makes fun of it, although I do not make fun of Elvis (how wretched is the post 1960 Elvis junk anyway?) or when he started a “Slim Whitman” club on a night of drunken debauchery in college.

One of my students told me (in a tranquil moment while I played “Songs From the Wood” after a test in class) “that’s the dude with the flute who prances around stage and goes nuts. He’s crazy!”

“He?!” “Prances?!” “Nuts?!” “Crazy?!”

Ok, let’s understand some things here. Jethro Tull is a band. Like Pink Floyd (there is no “Pink” and no “Floyd”) their name comes from a 16th century British agronomist who invented the seed drill. Having noted that—most people have assumed their lead singer/acoustic guitarist/mandolin playing/flautist Ian Anderson is “Jethro Tull.” No, he is Ian Anderson.

Yes, the band uses a flute—why such disparaging comments on a musical instrument? It sounds interesting against a backdrop of heavy guitar riffs, a thundering bass and beautifully timed signature drumming. Yes, they play acoustic songs as well that hearken back to the days of merry Lode England (deliberately spelled that way for the record) which also fits the flute.

So why the hatred—or better you may ask why I like the band?

My good friend Joe once said to me, “even I don’t get what you see in this group…” and Joe is quite an expert on 1960s pop and rock and transcended power pop and 1980s music. I made a CD for him and he politely commented on it—although I am not sure if he liked it or not.

Many “musical” people love Tull for the innovative arrangements. Many others hate the band for the “classical” or “folk” label that people attach to the group. Let’s face it, we-- as a collective society--like to label things and Tull cannot fit to the labels.

That is a reason I think so many people dislike Tull.

Let me give you some reasons I like the band.

The vocals of Anderson are in my range—so I can sing along quite readily.

The guitars by Martin Barre are incredible. He is the unheralded master of the riff. I still remember when I sat in Tony Crubaugh’s ISU class of Modern European Popular Culture (Tony is an excellent professor and a very good friend) and he hummed the opening riff to Aqualung.

I like the flute—although my sister tortured us as children with her “practice” of the instrument. My brother and I outwardly laughed at her “ability” to play (sorry, but no Sweetwood has musical talent in my immediate family). I mean, in Tull I can whistle along to it.

I like the occasional acoustic pieces. They are refreshing and subtle.

The band can play tightly. The bass is less of a rhythm-keeping instrument and more of an actual force in Tull. The drummers over the years have all kept excellent time and controlled the music.

Lyrically they are interesting. They comment on religion, politics, corporate greed, the destruction of natural resources, and sexuality in an interesting perspective.

I also enjoy the fact that Ian Anderson is a “cat person” and helps the plight of cats. I emailed him once and he was polite enough to email me back and wished my cats “good health.”

They write “mood” and period pieces. Every Spring I play “Heavy Horses” and every winter I play “Stormwatch” and in so doing, I feel “right” with nature and the world. I enjoy a good, hearty and thoroughly British ale with Heavy Horses and a Stout or Porter while playing Stormwatch. The beer helps relax me and may I suggest Abbot Ale from England and Taddy Caster Porter (also from England) when playing these two albums.

They are uniquely British, and having fancied myself an Anglophile, I respect their introspection and their resolve to not compromise their “very British” origins. They also give us a nod to their British heritage and we should not forget our British Cousins.

Live, the band is nothing short of incredible. Having seen them live twice (Broadsword and the Beast tour in 1983 and Rock Island Tour in 1989), I can attest that they sound every bit as intricate and good live as they sound in the studio. Having more than a fair share of “import concert recordings” of the band, it should be noted that they are a powerful live unit.

I also think that with music, one needs a band that is just “their own.” I know many of you who would read this hate Tull, so I feel a sense that they are “MY BAND.” Psychologically twisted to be sure, but at least I can have them without contention. And I am polite enough not to play them around many of you. My former Chess team teammate Jim (yes, I was the captain of the chess team once and I was once very wise), my good friend Mike (a former DA), my college roommate and good friend Keith, my fellow collegue and carpool partner Elston, a fellow English teaching educator Mike, a former grad school friend (who hated rock music) Tom, and my department chair Gene all enjoy the music of Jethro Tull.

I feel like that scene in STRIPES with Bill Murray when he is discussing Tito Pfuentes with his girlfriend. Mark my words, some day when Tull is long gone and resurges in popularity, you’ll be saying “I have been listening to them for years…” and you will all come back to me and ask to borrow my stuff.

Yes they had a top twenty single in Bungle in the Jungle and one in Living In The Past. If I were to gage success of a band based on Billboard—we would all be Tony Orlando and Dawn, Brittany Spears, the DeFranco Family, and Backdoor Boys fans and those groups would be “aces.” Who listens to Billboard?

Step out of the realm of Billboard, please. Jethro Tull is a great band and have been playing longer than most (they started in 1969 and are considered in the top twenty grossing bands of musical sales and popularity).

Anyways, for those interested—the best Tull Albums are Songs From The Wood, Heavy Horses, Stormwatch (my personal favorite), Benefit, Stand Up, Aqualung, Thick as A Brick, Crest of a Knave (Grammy Award Winner for Heavy Metal in 1988), Minstrel In The Gallery, Roots To Branches, Broadsword and the Beast, and Catfish Rising. All are available on Amazon.com or BarnesandNoble.com.

Go and enjoy.

“One day I'll be a minstrel in the gallery.
And paint you a picture of the queen.
And if sometimes I sing to a cynical degree --- it's just the nonsense that it seems.''
So I drift down through the Baker Street valley, in my steep-sided un-reality.
And when all is said and all is done --- I couldn't wish for a better one.
It's a real-life ripe dead certainty --- that I'm just a Baker Street Muse.”

--Ian Anderson “Mother England Reverie” from Minstrel In The Gallery 1975.

Happy Anniversary

“It's been a year now and it's getting so much better.
You came home without a word.
We're walkin' out into the world tonight.
We'll do it all again until the break of light.
And the feelin' in your heart will soon be shinin' in your eyes”

Shine a Little Love—By Jeff Lynne of ELO

Happy Anniversary!

I guess this is my anniversary, and it is a darn good one. We celebrate Birthdays (an anniversary of our birth), Weddings, and Special Days. Today is anniversary of sorts for me—it falls under the Special Day section of anniversaries.

Today is my first annual anniversary of surviving open heart surgery to replace a birth-defected bicuspid aortic valve. I now have an artificial valve. Call me the $86,000.00 Man. October 4 of 2004, my valve was replaced.

Today is the day when a year ago I had a blood pressure of 140 of 98 which has dropped to 110 over 68. My pulse at rest has moved from 99 to 72. Life and my heart are good. And at heart, life is good, as well.

What a change this has been. Trust me.

Like a good anniversary, there are so many people to thank and remember.

I commend Dr. Wright for his surgical hands, Dr. McCrisken for his consistent care as my cardiologist, Dr. Duncan as my general care practitioner, and Dr. Mather as my professional counselor and spiritual consultant. Had it not been for these men and their expertise, I think I would have probably succumbed to some less positive demise. The cardiologist has always taken special care when dealing with me during the last ten years and I have always appreciated his true desire to see me do well. His children played for a rival school, so we make sure to keep each other apprised of which team won in football every given year. Looks like I will have bragging rights this year. The practitioner has a great understanding of my character and has dealt with me with kid gloves and with a sense of admonishing father at the same time. The surgeon was tough enough to be calmly awesome and had an incredible sense of irony and humor to keep me at ease. He also spoke to each person in the waiting room and answered questions. The councilor helped me eliminate anxiety attacks and has always lent a supportive ear while I shared some of my fears. Sometimes, as he understands, it is best to be a soundboard and listen.

I also thank the nurses and health care providers who I am more than confident I drove crazy with my worries and demands. Also the Cardio-rehab ladies were a constant source of comfort, even when they yelled at me for going too fast when on the bike when they played Stray Cats Music. Hey, it’s not my fault if I love the band and want to keep beat with Rock This Town.

I would like to thank some very special people for helping me in my quest of surviving and for being with me on this road to a healthy life.

I thank my parents for dropping everything to come to be with me for my surgery.

I thank my sister for also being there for me before, during and after surgery and for helping “baby-sit” me a few weeks later. I told Karen not to come, but I am glad she did. She asked me how I felt and I told her like I was hit by truck. I figured she could handle the accuracy.

I thank my brother Mark for his visit to the hospital and at my house afterwards. Mark and I have grown closer in the last few years—now Mom can rest comfortably that her sons are friends.

I also thank my sister’s husband Bud and her children Angela and Matthew for allowing her to visit; as I thank my sister-in-law Mary for allowing Mark to come down.

I thank my brother-in-law Jeff for his visit and staying with my wife and I while I was in the hospital and later on my first night at home. Jeff helped explain many things to me (Jeff is an ER Doctor) during my hospital stay and helped put me to ease. With Jeff, I thank my sister-in-law Sandy and their children Luke, Jenna, Issac, and Griffen for sacrificing their husband and father (respectfully) for a few days.

I thank my Uncle Dan and my Aunt Dar who live in our town who visited at the hospital and subsequently helped me through visits and took the time to offer my wife, Pamela aid.

I thank my in-laws Lois and Clarence for their support and continued concern for my condition. Clarence should convert from being a Dallas Cowboy fan, but that is another topic for another blog.

I thank Milt, among my best friends and my partner in crime at the school I am emplyed who visited me two days in a row and helped keep the staff up-to-date on my positive condition. He’s a brother of sorts and a confidant that I respect more and more as time goes on. Milt also commented on how good my color was when I know I would have been painted in an off-set mix of pale white, yellow, and green. You are a good liar Milt and one I respect.

I thank Butch, my superintendent, who took two days to visit me prior surgery and put my mind at rest and who visited the next day to check on my condition. How many bosses visit their employees in the hospital? He is a fine man to work for. Butch’s father went through a similar procedure years ago and he put me at ease.

In a similar light, former bosses Roger and Ron who also gave me words of encouragement. Also my Principal Jim spoke to me for an hour a few days before surgery to let me know how special I was to the school community and the staff.

I thank my friend Chris and his wife Jodi who took the time to visit me after surgery—candy corn was great. They are the type of people that will continue to restore my faith in humanity.

I also thank my friend and department chair Gene and his partner Pam for their visit and subsequent gifts after surgery. Gene is a good man and continues to mentor me in my professional development.

I thank my Uncle Dale for his support and positive emails.

I thank my good friends and fellow comic geeks Joe, John, Jim, and Dan for their positive comments –especially Jim and Joe for assuring that I had a ton of comics to read during my time off. I loved the Frankenstein Monster trade, just for the record.

There are so many folks to thank further who I work with, who I observed as student teachers, and friends who have taken time to call, send cards, or email. My good friends Mike; Joanne; Beth; Danny; Elston; the wonderful cooks; Amy; Craig; Shelia (a former student teacher who is kicking ass at a local school); Carrie H-S (former student teacher who stopped by just prior to surgery); Allison (my latest student teacher who was a daughter of sorts who gave me many positive comments and emails); Carrie S. (another student teacher who is knocking them dead at a different local school); Peter and Carol and Pete’s Folks; Tim; Alex; Keith, Tish and Alexia; the guys in my fantasy football league for the positive comments on the board; The Local United Way—led by our “advisor” Dee and Gary, and their many other board members; and so many other excellent educators I work with: Dee, Jolene, Lyn, Rita, Betty, Russ, Cory and Heather, Tom, Sharon, Kristie, Lisa, Tera, Dawn, Pearl, Joe, Susan, Chris, Laura (who gave a nice donation to the United Way on my behalf--thanks!), Lou Ann, two retired teachers in Andy and Fred; and our awesome secretaries in Nancy, Kitty, Nancy, Pam, Jane, and Kim; along with Board members Scott, Nancy, and Dale—whose son went through a similar experience. All sent cards or emails and asked on my condition. It was humbling and appreciated. In fact, Dale’s son Ryan (an excellent former student in his own right) told Dale to tell me that when I could put on my socks that I would be on the recovery road to better health (a chest muscle thing for all those non-cardiac patients).

I must give my thanks to my good friend and fellow educator Gary who did an excellent job as my substitute. He was a professional and an excellent educator. Without Gary, I would have worried much more, but because of Gary’s professional qualities, I was more than confident that the education for my students would not suffer. He did an exceptional job.

My students also deserve credit. They were well-behaved and gave positive responses to Gary in my time off. I also appreciated so many kind words from former students and the parents of my students in our district--as I hear I was on many of the prayer lists. I appreciated the support from the Community.

My cats, Pepto the Devil Cat and Foggy the Bold, were a constant source of comfort in my recovering days; so thanks to the cats who cannot read, but know that I appreciate them. We are a family, after all.

The person who I thank the most is my wife Pamela who was a tireless caregiver, supporter, loving confidant, nurse of sorts, and great friend. To the rest of you, you may think your spouse is the greatest--but I know mine is. Here is some advice: marry your best friend; it is a great feeling. I love Pamela more and more as each day passes. She is my foundation, she is my hope, and all I inspire to be. Without her; I am a void. She was incredible to me during this procedure, helping, often comfort, letting me know I was special, and offering solid advice and loving care. She can also kick my ass when I feel sorry for myself. She acted in kindness, in privacy, and in care as she took control of my homelife. This woman is nothing short of incredible. She is the sweetest person I have ever met and she is also, far and away, the most intelligent--and her intellect is only matched by her beauty. If there is one thing I did right in this world, it was marrying Pam. I may have screwed up so many other things, but marrying Pamela was a joy which I cannot find an equal. She is truly a beauty, a passionate person, a wonderful wife, and a best friend.

Sorry to be sentimental, but I love life, and I love it because of so many people who have supported me. I also believe that we can change and are in a constant state of evolution.

Often we are called to task when it comes to time of great stress and strife. I hope I have answered that task and will continue to grow as a person as my life continues.

Here’s to forty more years of jokes, annoyances, irritations, learning, growth, care, occasional pain, love, respect, grousing, standing up for that which is right, and living life to the fullest.

It is a great anniversary. Thanks to so many of you for being a meaningful part of my life.

We should celebrate with some diet soda and low fat chicken breasts. Although I sure miss my once high count of BEER. Then again, the path I am now traveling is so much more rewarding.

Even the Bears played hard for me, as a week prior to surgery they beat the Packers. Thanks guys--I'd like to think they did it for me.