Happy Friday!!! to all you readers out there. And Happy Anniversary to my Beautiful Girlfriend and me. You may notice that I’m posting this earlier in the day than normal. Well, you can’t see me, but I’m here on a Thursday night, smacking keys on this keyboard thing to write a Happy Friday!!! a day early so I can celebrate a special day with my Soulmate.

It’s like this, OK: way back on May 19, 1972, we officially became a couple. That’s like 45 years ago!! How can this be possible??? I mean, I know it’s been awhile, but 45 years?? Sheesh!! As a friend of mine once said, “you know what the frogs say, ‘time’s fun when you’re having flies!!’ “

Boy ain’t that the truth ( I think…).

Somebody Upstairs had to be stirring some sort of Cosmic Cauldron to put us together. We were “introduced” to each other during the last half of our senior year in high school. God Bless Mr. Patana… he was the Spanish teacher who was saddled with overseeing the study hall to which my Future Honey Pie and I were assigned. He was adamant that we should enjoy assigned seats: boy / girl, boy / girl in alphabetical order (probably for his ease of taking attendance). I am a Hansen, she was a Hilliard, so we got “stuck” sitting next to each other.

Why is this so “Cosmic?” I thought you’d never ask… even if you didn’t. Here I was, a transplant from Long Island, Noo Yawk, getting seated next to a truly lovely female person transplanted from Ferndale, Michigan. Both of us were uprooted from our perfectly comfortable lives in the suburbs and blasted waaaay up north to Rhinelander High School in Rhinelander, Wisconsin.

Wisconsin!! WisCONsin???!!!

Oh yeah.

My transplanting preceded hers by almost 6 years; so by the time this lovely young woman came to Podunk (my cousin’s nickname for a small town), I was fortunate enough to have been converted into a country boy. However, I certainly understood the pain of being uprooted with little or no notice; and that’s exactly what she endured.

Fortunately (for me), we became very good friends pretty much instantly. Study hall became my favorite part of the school day; even though I already had a “girlfriend.” I put “girlfriend” in quotes because she lived near Chicago and only came up north with her family for vacations. We wrote gooshy letters to each other and stuff but this awesomely attractive young lady from Ferndale really captured my heart. She also mentioned she had a “boyfriend;” he was in the Navy (also good… for me). Neither of us spoke much about these long distance relationships much though. Our friendship was blooming into something much more amazing.

I was really enjoying what seemed like a strictly platonic (albeit powerful) bond when she pulled a dirty trick: she abandoned her normal attire of bell bottom blue jeans and smock tops for dresses and sparkly makeup. It was very effective… similar to how effective it would be if she clunked me on the noggin with a large 2 X 4. Needless to say, my relationship priorities shifted drastically from that point. I found my soulmate!!

Along came May 19, 1972; when my long distance “sweetie” was due to arrive at the resort where her family loved to spend the beautiful Northwoods summers. I rode my 1970 Honda CB175 (which we still own) over there and broke the news.  Although she wasn’t very happy about it, this really wasn’t a complete surprise; because I had mentioned my “new friend’s” name in several letters. My new Beautiful Girlfriend did her part with a “Dear John” letter to her beau in the Navy.

So here we are now. I’m still head over heels in love with this woman. Actually, it’s much stronger and deeper than ever. We are still best friends, and she still causes my blood to flow very warmly. And I do mean VERY warmly. And that’s all the detail youse kids are gonna get on that stuff!! So I’m writing on a Thursday night because I have a date tomorrow with the Most Beautiful Woman in the Universe. That’s not meant to be anything derogatory against other women, mind you. My professional opinion is that ALL other women in the world are the 2^nd Most Beautiful.

Hope all of you have a Happy Friday!!! I know I will, because it’s Friday, and I’m In Love. All the while I’ve been writing this, that song by The Cure has been banging around in my head (along with others), so here we go…

Can you believe this Sunday is Mothers Day already?? Sheesh!! Seems like just a few weeks ago it was 17 degrees outside. Well, as frogs say, “time’s fun when you’re having flies!!” Those of you who read my silly rants are aware that I took a little break. Wasn’t sure when to get “back in the saddle” with the Happy Friday!!! thing; but I figured a tribute to all the Mothers of the World could be a nice idea.

When writing about something as important as Mother’s Day, the task pretty much mandates a little research. Alright, maybe it’s not a mandate. But as I sat staring at the title that jumped out of my keyboard and onto the page, I couldn’t help being curious about where all this Mother’s Day stuff originated. Turns out there have been several holidays over the eons devoted to mothers; dating back perhaps thousands of years.

Here in the US, the holiday as we now know it was created by Anna Jarvis in 1908. Her efforts resulted in President Woodrow Wilson proclaiming it a national holiday in 1914. Unfortunately, the occasion quickly became commercially “interesting” to merchandisers; to the chagrin of Ms. Jarvis. Even she reportedly began to refer to Mother’s Day as a “Hallmark Holiday.”

Even so, God knows there is no more deserving soul to be honored than Mom. Your Mom, my Mom, Mother Nature, and so on. In the case of me and my siblings; I’m amazed that our mother made it through the ordeal of raising the four of us without completely going bonkers. Our parents started our family with me in 1954; and raised us through the 60s, and into the 70s. Early on, social norms meant that Dad was “king of the castle” and Mom was the keeper of the household. In other words, Dad earned the money and Mom did the best she could to keep us fed and clothed. Considering some of the “challenges” my Dad introduced into that equation she did a remarkable job.

Mom was the cook, bottle washer, laundry attendant and mending master. She knew how to comfort us when we were sad; and she knew how to put us in our place when we acted up. We were raised on Long Island, New York during a time when shows like “The Honeymooners” were still on TV. Even if you didn’t live in Brooklyn, people were not afraid to yell to get their point across. I once had a fond remembrance of when the four of us were driving her nuts; and Mom shouted, “YOUSE GODDAMN KIDS!!” Needless to say, she got our attention. When I mentioned it to my mother many years later, she quickly replied, “I never said that!!”

Of course not.

Anyway, she raised us the best she knew how. Did a darn good job of it too. Although her generation was not really the touchy-feely type; we knew that she loved us and would do anything in her power to make life better for us.

She must have been heart broken when I ran off with “that girl.” At the time, that was how Dad referred to my beautiful girlfriend. Relations between Dad and me were usually tense (to put it mildly), so leaving home at the ripe old age of 18 seemed like the natural next step for me. I joined the Air Force and was married to my sweetie all in the course of a year after graduation from high school. Things between Dad and me never really improved so we settled about 500 miles away and would visit maybe once or twice a year. It would be many years before I would really understand how difficult that must have been for my parents. My lovely wife and I raised a daughter and son; and now that they are grown and out of the house we get restless if we don’t see them for a week, much less a year or more.

Mom did the best she knew how. She was the product of a generation where the woman bowed to the husband, regardless of how deep the BS puddle became. Under Dad and Mom’s roof, we didn’t tell each other “I love you.” There was very little hugging, and if Dad was around, whatever you do, don’t cry “or I’ll give you something to cry about.” Deep down, however, we knew we were loved, albeit some of the the methods were a bit harsh.

Just like any new parents, my beautiful wife and I were determined to “do a better job than our parents did.” We raised our kids in a home where the words “I love you” were uttered every day, often multiple times. We had plenty of hugs to go around, plenty of time spent. And when I would get up on my high horse, my lovely wife would get a stick and knock me down from there. Well OK not literally, but you get the idea. I probably presented the same “challenges” into our new family that my Dad interjected into family life when we were being raised. One thing for sure, if you are interested in growing up, try having kids! I’m sure we made our mistakes, but we did some things right, also.

My Mom and Dad have both been gone for several years. Dad and I managed to patch things up before he left this life, thank God. And Mom did her best to cope with losing the love of her life until she finally left also. Funny how things evolve… as of this writing I can honestly say that I’ve flushed the bad memories and I’m cherishing the good ones.

So to my Mom, and to my lovely Wife Mom, and now to our daughter who’s also a Mom, and to all the Mothers in the Universe:

THANK YOU. GOD BLESS YOU. I LOVE YOU.

So there.

Well Mom, wherever you are, I hope you and Dad are having a Perfect Day.

Dear Friends,

This is to inform you that Happy Friday!!! will not be installed next week or the week after. I’m taking a couple weeks off you see. And no it has nothing to do with Spring Break. I mean, who wants to walk around with a bunch of broken springs? My brand new 2001 Chrysler Town and Country has very creaky springs, but they are not broken. They just make noise. Because of this, I took it to my friendly neighborhood mechanic to have these noises checked out. He told me that for $800 I could have very quiet springs and shocks. He also told me that the old springs were not a safety hazard or anything, they just have the creakies.

They still have the creakies. I see no point in putting $800 into a very old car that will probably have something much more costly go wrong before all is said and done. My friendly neighborhood mechanic did offer two absolutely free solutions: 1) always choose smooth roads and R) turn the volume up on the radio. So I do at least one of those things every day and all is well.

So what does this have to do with the price of ballpoint pen refills? I have no idea. But circling back to the initial premise that there will be no Happy Friday!!! for two weeks, I hope all of you can forgive me but I just need to take a break. Maybe, for example, I’ll take my Beautiful Girlfriend on a road trip. She mentioned that it’s not wise to chronicle your trip with that social media BookFace thing; because “people come and rob your house when they know you’re gone.”

Well let’s put it this way: perhaps, just perhaps, we are going on a road trip. But if you are a thief, please don’t read this, or at least forget you ever saw it. Please do that right now. Also, if you are a thief (or are fixin’ to tell a friend or relative who is a thief) please be aware that I will be employing various security measures while we are gone.

For example, we have our friend Freddy the Freeloader. He is a cat. A VERY BIG cat. I’ve been subliminally conditioning him for months now. Whenever he greets me at the bottom of our deck when I get home from work, which is pretty much every day, I look into his beautiful yellow-green eyes and say, “Fred, remember to use your razor sharp toenails on the strangers at all times.” I figure his razornails are the best weapon, because he lost one of his canine teeth before he came to live with us so he doesn’t have a full compliment of tooth ouchers. Oh but my oh my his claws work very well!! I’m confident he won’t let me down. He’s a black cat, so he can be very stealthy in many Cat Ninja slashy ouchy maneuvers.

Also, I’ve finally perfected my themo-electronic 9 dimensional force field. It surrounds the house and garage, and also the outbuildings. Pretty gruesome… whenever someone tries to pass through the thermo-electronic barrier, they get a severe hankering for Speedway hotdogs. It’s not unusual for someone to slide a finger (or even the tip of their nose) into the force field, then abruptly dash for the nearest Speedway gas station. For some reason, once they walk in the door they are compelled to eat ALL the hotdogs on those greasy little roller thingies. Even the ones that have turned a very dark color and are all wrinkly!! The result of this compulsion is, of course, projectile vomiting. In the store. In front of God and everybody. They they completely forget they were going to rob me.

Thirdly, our son will be watching over the place; and you know what that means, right? Yep, he’s very adept at smearing the outer door handles with fresh Tootsie Rolls that are found in Freddy the Freeloader’s litter box. Very special gloves are required to prevent becoming infected with PooperOhNo; a quickly spreading disease that causes facial features to be almost instantly rearranged. You like having one eye under your chin and your nose sticking out the side of your cheek?? Well by all means, c’mon over and grab a door handle!!

OK, so I’m gonna take a break from Happy Friday!!! for two weeks. Maybe we go away, maybe we don’t… we’re gonna keep you guessing.

So there.

Peace, Love, and Don’t Even Think About It,

Kenny “I’mSoTired” Fluffnozzle

“And now,” as Mr. Cleese used to say, “for something completely different.”

Happy St. Patrick’s Day everyone. I say that to those who love the holiday; but for me it’s a bit tongue-in-cheek. That’s because even though I’m a wee bit Irish; I’m ½ Norwegian. And there’s that documentary I saw on PBS awhile back that illustrated the history behind the red hair and freckles with which many Irish folks are born. It’s from those naughty Vikings, you see. It’s possible that my Norwegian (Viking) ancestors raped and pillaged my Irish ancestors; thereby scattering their red haired, freckled, Viking genes hither and yon. The thought of all that has really taken the wind out of any sails I may have unfurled on the Good Ship St. Paddy’s Day.

Ha ha, I almost said “… the red hair and freckles that many Irish folks are born with.” I actually typed it that way initially. I fixed it though, because just like this St. Paddy’s day stuff I’ve been seeing lately, I’ve learned that type of word usage just plain ain’t correct: a preposition is a word you are not supposed to end a sentence with. Ha ha, I did it just now, because I wanted to, and if you don’t like it please take an eraser to your screen and see if you can fix that for me please; be careful you don’t harm your screen though; and you know what… I think this may be the first run-on sentence I’ve written in awhile and yes I’m fully aware that I bend the grammar and punctuation rules when I do it; but I’m also pretty darn SURE it’s the first one I’ve ever written in italics with a sprinkling of bold; but I have yet to write any portion of a run-on sentence in bold, italic, and underlined text; at least until today.

So there I was, 10,000 feet in the air, no plane, no parachute, just floating about and when I came back down I noticed a sign that said, “St. Paddy’s Day…” something or other. Not sure what else it said besides the “St. Paddy’s Day,” but that part stuck in my headbone. So then I took my headbone to the Google Place and plunked in “St. Paddy’s Day.” And you know what I found?? The Irish very much dislike the use of “St. Patty’s Day.”

What… youse don’t believe me? Really!! I’m telling you, it’s supposed to be written “St. Paddy’s Day.” I never knew. So you say you’ve seen “St. Patty’s Day” with your own eyes?? Well, as the great Chico Marx once proclaimed, “who you gonna believe, me or your own eyes??” So like, if youse kids don’t believe me, hopefully you will believe the Irish. They tell us yankees all about it right here:

http://paddynotpatty.com/

So there, nyaa nyaa na boo boo!! OK so like I was saying earlier… I honor the honoring (can you honor someone’s honoring?? I just don’t know) of March 17, which I just read is the traditional date of death of Ireland’s patron saint somewhere around the year 461. From what I’ve read, it started out as a feast with lots of spiritual significance, but these days many folks seem to use it as a great excuse to party. Big business you know. Couple weeks before there are lots of green beads, hats, and all kinds of trinkets to wear or hang on your body. And this year it’s happening on a Friday; so I’m guessing there will be some Holy Mackerel Headaches tomorrow with folks being a little green around the gills without the aid of any Irish green adornments on their bodies.

My Beautiful Girlfriend and I have been “celebrating” with Reuben sandwiches for the last several years. We rarely eat corned beef; which is a very good thing when you consider all the chemicals in that stuff. But once in awhile a Reuben really calls my Honey Pie’s name… so I play along. Not my favorite, to be honest. Today ours came from a local haunt called Mango’s; which we thought we’d try for a change. Usually they are known for pretty good grub. They failed the Reuben test though, and as we were a few bites into our sandwiches both of us found ourselves wishing we had stuck with Arby’s. Is that weird or what?? Never thought I’d prefer a product from a fast food joint over a local joint. Arby’s would have been WAY cheaper too. Oh well. Supported our local economy.

Well enough rambling. Hope all of you had a Happy St. Paddy’s Day; assuming of course you wanted one. We were happy to stay home and chill.

Speaking of Chico Marx… Say huh?? Yes, remember I mentioned “the great Chico Marx” back there? Well here’s one of my favorite Marx Brothers routines from their movie “Duck Soup.” Absolutely nothing to do with St. Paddy’s day, but there’s that totally cool remark:

“Who you gonna believe, me or your own eyes??”

And of course what followed was the famous “Mirror Scene.”

Many moons ago, before the rock stars died, there lived a Tyrannosaurus Rex that played Jeepster. And they rocked the house many times, and it was pretty darn good. And yes, maybe I’m speaking in code, but those of you who grew up when I did may actually know that all that means.

The T.Rex performances were in the 1970s, when technology was a bit different than today.  For example, when people wanted to go somewhere they used a very strange method: they used maps.

Now we have GPS units readily available and pretty inexpensive, too. More and more people are abandoning maps (and lots of other non-electronic things) for computerized toys. I’m beginning to wonder if the ability to read a map is slowly becoming a lost art.

Mind you, I am a self confessed road atlas addict. Ever since I’ve owned a car, I’ve made really sure there was a Rand McNally Road Atlas stashed in it somewhere. I mean hey kids, I don’t really care what language your GPS unit will use to tell you what turn to take. Maps are the cat’s meow in my universe. As I’ve gotten older I even have extended my map collection to a Michigan County Maps atlas. Now that’s livin’ large in my world.

Friends are often surprised to learn that I have absolutely no desire to get a GPS for my car; especially since I commute 56 miles one way to work. They figure such a device could come in handy when the snows or an accident bring traffic to a crawl and I seek an alternate route. And since they know I work in computer support, they are often baffled by my lack of interest in the latest cool electronic doohickey.

Well yes, I work in the computer field, but although technology provides me with a pretty good living; gadgets have ceased to amaze me. Don’t get me wrong, I think toys can be cool. I just don’t need any more junk. I’m guilty of owning plenty of stuff that’s not exactly eco-friendly: televisions, a computer, cell phone, etc. Don’t kid yourselves folks, none of these devices are completely recyclable. Some of it simply cannot be reused. So, my philosophy is to buy the best quality stuff I can so it will last lots of years. Conversely, my philosophy is NOT to buy stuff that will become obsolete quickly.

As far as the GPS stuff goes, my lovely girlfriend and I actually enjoy taking a wrong turn every now and again. Brings a little adventure into our lives; and helps us hone our map reading skills. OK I admit I did ask for a GPS for Christmas one year; but it’s the kind that will never need batteries. It sat on top of the dashboard of my 2003 Toyota Corolla and gave me a general idea which way I was headed. You may have seen one before, here’s a picture of mine:

As you may have guessed, this particular GPS is also called a compass. Some of you may say, “umm… Ken, that’s not a GPS.” Well of course it is; my friend Dave at work told me so. When I was joking about “my new GPS” after Santa brought it to me, he said, “well yeah… it’s a General Pointing System!”

Came in very handy; especially when I got stuck in traffic. If I was on my way home from where I worked in Grand Rapids (Michigan), and ran into some heavy traffic, I’d just zig and zag through the back roads until the car was pointed west. Pretty hard to go too far west here in Michigan unless you have an amphibious car. So even if I’m totally confused; as long as I can get to the Lake Michigan shoreline I can find my way home from there. These days, our son has the Toyota and I drive a brand new 2001 Chrysler Town & Country. It also has a GPS compass thing, but it’s an actual digital readout!! Much easier to read when it’s dark!!

Even though I like to take alternate routes; I stay on the roads; unlike some of my Jeepster owning friends. I don’t really like the practice, but a few of my friends have Jeeps or maybe Toyota Land Cruisers that will go places where my car would never be able to visit. So I’m a Jeepster of a different kind… a GPSter. I’ll still pronounce it “Jeepster” though, because I love the song.  I even sing it to my Beautiful Girlfriend every now and again.

Which song?? Remember that Tyrannosaurus Rex I mentioned at the beginning of this silly story?

This song:

Once upon a time we inherited a duplex which was a million percent awesome because our son was down on his luck and needed a place to stay and God Bless The Renters who pay enough for us to be able to afford taxes and insurance on the place but not much else because you see we hate being landlords so we keep the rent low but always seem to find someone who stays for more than 3 days and doesn’t write satanic messages on the walls with dog poop or try to rewire the washing machine to play CDs and even though it’s a bit of a pain at times we would hate to see our son live in some garbage dump somewhere and Holy Moly this one one long sentence which could have been summed up in just 3 words:

We Are Grateful.

So there I was, minding my own business, when I get a text from our tenant, “we have no heat.” Well that meant a call to the Heater Fixers and a nice guy came out and learned that a circuit board was no good and he said “oh hey there’s 2 inches of water down there in the crawlspace… I have to order the circuit board but we need that water removed before we can come out to fix it;” so I cried and rolled on the floor and thrashed about because what the HECK am I supposed to do so we called ServPro to come clean up the mess and then I canceled because I thought “oh jeez, we clean up water in our swamp house almost every spring, this is no big deal;” but then my Beautiful Girlfriend and I went to clean up the mess with our meager floor pump and shop vac and discovered HOLY MOOPFLAYBEN WE DON’T HAVE ANYWHERE NEAR ENOUGH HOSE AND STUFF FOR THIS so I called ServPro back and they said yes they could come and they arrived quickly and it didn’t break the bank (too badly) and this is yet another run-on sentence that could again be summed up in 3 more words:

We Are Fortunate.

OK. The water issue is taken care of so the heater guy doesn’t have to do the Jingle Jangle Dance while working with electricity in a soggy place and I called the Heater Fixers back and and and (3 ands to illustrate exasperation) they said, “oh, it’s too late in the day so we’ll have to send someone first thing in the morning” and then I said thank you and hung up and cried thrashed about and rolled on the floor because HOLY BEEPDOODLE IT’S SUPPOSED TO BE 14 DEGREES TOMORROW CAN’T THEY PLEASE COME OH JEEZ OH GOD OH NO and then I went home and got a box fan and crawled into the crawlspace (it’s for crawling!) to try to dry the floor a little more and then I told the tenant “Well sorry the Heater Fixer Guy won’t be back till tomorrow morning” and then as I started out the driveway here comes the Heater Fixer Guy and I clasped my hands together in a reverent manner and bowed several times and he said “ya, everyone does that till they see the bill” and this is again once more a very VERY long sentence that could also be shortened into 3 words:

We Are Blessed.

Long story longer, we help with the water; and we got the heat fixed. Someone Upstairs was helping us, of this I have no doubt. Even though I screamed and cried and rolled about on the floor, I was able to maintain a small amount of gratitude each time the tides turned a bit. Then of course a huge basket full of gratitude flowed out of my heart after all was said and done. And those, my friends, are four regular sentences that can be expressed in 5 words:

Thank You God (whoever They are) For Everything. Well, OK 8 words if you count the ones in parentheses.

THE END

And now, as Mr. Cleese used to say, for something completely different… kinda.

So there I was, 36,000 feet in the air, inside a plane, with no parachute, on my way to Allentown, Pennsylvania, traveling for work, and now I’m making a sentence that’s not only way too long but also has too many participles and perhaps even gerunds (gerunds??); and of course I kept maps that I printed from the Googling of Directions, which is probably not really a proper thing but lots of people say it, and although I had all these printed maps with directions they were of little use to me because I didn’t memorize them and so I cried out for Siri.

It was already dark outside when I finally got to the rental car. Even though I had printed directions with maps; it would have been rather difficult at best to follow them without having an accident. I needed help fast, so with blind faith I started talking to Siri.

“Siri,” I said to my iPhone thing, “I need directions to 4100 West Rock Road.” Being the obedient techno-servant that she is, Siri commenced to getting the directions. All I had to do was press the green “Go” button on the phone (while parked of course) (I’m too young to die) and she started telling me where to go. It was the first time I ever tried it, and it only happened because I saw people on the Television Thing talk to their iPhone things in a similar manner. So God bless her, Siri started telling me where to go with step by step instructions. I’m sort of used to having people tell me where to go, so this wasn’t difficult (ha ha, I make joking there).

For the most part, she did a wonderful job!! Although there were three small drawbacks: 1) Siri’s activity was very demanding of my phone’s battery power, L) once she tried to take me to a place that wasn’t there (invisible maybe?), and $) there was one instance where she wanted to drag me where I didn’t want to go. I can understand the drain on the battery; I’m sure a lot is going on in the iPhone Computer Brain Thing so that consumes energy. However, there was one instance in the wee hours of yesterday morning when I was on my way back to the airport. Siri was rattling off directions as I drove through all the serpentine, hilly back roads of the Pennsylvania countryside. We came to an area where she blurted out, “turn left on Penn Avenue.” I saw no Penn Avenue. She said it again, but she didn’t realize I’m not much of a morning person; especially at 3:45 AM. I scolded her thusly: “there’s no Penn Avenue you stupid farblejink!!” Well, OK, I may have really called her a different name using vernacular that refers to a female dog.

Then she wanted me to take a route to the airport that I knew involved a toll road. “No thank you,” I snarled, and I stayed on I-78 a bit longer. In spite of my rudeness she simply adjusted the route and told me where to go again, this time with a route that had no tolls. Such a nice robot lady!!

My professional path has brought me into a job in computer support; so one would think I would have abandoned printed maps long ago. Well although I’m very grateful to Siri for preventing me from getting lost in a strange land, when I travel for fun my navigation is much more primitive. I often use a combination of printed maps, a Rand McNally Road Atlas, and the compass in my car. Sure, Siri makes getting from point A to point B pretty easy… I didn’t really have to think. The only drawback is that I didn’t really learn the lay of the land. I merely learned how to get to places by following orders.

Well speaking of taking orders, I bet Santa is working overtime trying to get HIS orders filled…

Those who know me well are very aware I’m not a sports guy. Never really got into sports when I was a kid… although I did play in Little League for awhile. I wasn’t very good; but I enjoyed it nonetheless. When high school years arrived, I became something of a nerd who was much more interested in getting the grades than in anything sports related.

When the TV is on at our house, it’s almost never because of a sporting event. The only football game we ever see is the Super Bowl; and much of that is because of the commercials and the half time show. My wife and both root for the underdogs, but often we’ll just turn off the game after half time.

Baseball is a bit different; for me anyway. Perhaps that’s because I can actually understand the game. Not much in a baseball game that leaves me puzzled. Football puzzles me from the git-go; because I can’t for the life of me see any sense in running out on a field with the knowledge that someone seeks to drive your nose into the dirt before the game’s over. Pretty violent stuff. No thanks.  To top it off, there are all these flags the referees toss into the field for no apparent reason. I have no idea…

My lack of interest in sports was put on hold this week because of the Chicago Cubs. Those poor fellers have had a very long streak of tough luck. Unless you live in a cave somewhere with no human contact; it’s likely you know they won the World Series after a 108 year dry spell. Pretty darn cool!!

I actually watched most of the games. Even shouted at the players a few times, sometimes with joy and sometimes with annoyance. My Beautiful Girlfriend watched some of the action along with me, but she was pretty bushwhacked after working this past Wednesday; so I turned off the TV and went upstairs to listen to the game on the radio. Rain delayed the game for a bit; and it was past my bed time so I hit the hay with headphones on so I wouldn’t wake up my Honey Pie. When the 10th inning got underway, my Baby started to stir so I asked permission to turn the TV back on to watch the last few minutes. “Honey, can I turn it back on?? I wanna see this!!” “Sure,” she murmured.

Such joy!! Such history!! And such a welcome distraction!! With all the horrible things making headlines and all the election garbage in the media, this was very good medicine. Being the prehistoric relic I am; I still like to listen to AM radio while bopping about in the car. Often I’m tuned into 720 WGN out of Chicago in the morning on the way to work. Until this past Wednesday, the elections have pretty much monopolized the topics of any given day. Since the Cubbies won, though, very little else was being mentioned (thank God!!). This morning, host Steve Cochran asked one of the insiders if there was to be a ticker tape parade for the Cubs today. The answer was yes; then Steve went on to make note that there are no longer any stock tickers in operation these days. The name “ticker tape parade” was quickly reaffirmed though, because “…it sounds much better than a paper parade.”

So Chicago is on fire tonight; but it’s not the destructive kind. They had their ticker tape parade and all the speeches and comradery that goes with such a monumental event. The fires of Love and Happiness are burning brightly in Chi-town as well as much of the rest of the country. So if you’re itching for some good news; tune in just about any Chicago TV or radio station and enjoy the buzz while it lasts.

Can you believe it?? The Cubs won the World Series!!

Grandma Loftus used to sing this one… can’t help but love it…