Author: David Diego Rodríguez, Ph.D.

I teach Spanish and I am a standup comedian.

Liver and onions


Liver and onions

I think we can all agree that liver and onions is not a very popular dish in America. Otherwise, someone would have opened a fast-food restaurant with a drive-thru specializing in liver and onions by now. This will never happen but imagine the possibilities! For me, this would be great since liver and onions is one of my all-time favorite dishes. Luckily, it’s available at many restaurants. It’s easy to prepare and I’ve even made it myself a few times. 

Even when I was little, I loved liver and onions. My mother prepared it frequently because she loved liver and onions. I inherited her love of liver and onions. Sometimes my mother would make it just for her and me. Beef liver was usually unbelievably cheap. I guess few people liked eating liver back then, but no part of livestock was wasted. As The Jungle famously quoted one of the meatpacking plants, “We package everything except the squeal!” 

Unfortunately, my younger brothers wouldn’t eat liver and onions if they knew exactly what they were about to eat. So, my mother would explain that we were about to eat some exotic dish. As we sat down at the table, my mother would always say something like, “Hoy vamos a comer tigre.” “Today we are eating tiger.” “Hoy les preparé algo muy sabroso. ¡Tiburón!” “I made you something delicious today. Shark!” And my little brothers would eat up the liver and onions that they so detested. 

Once, we all sat down for dinner and my mother announced, “Hoy vamos a comer ballena.” “Today we are eating whale.” And so, we all started eating whale. On this day, I found the whale especially delicious. I was the only one who knew we were eating liver, sans onions to create the effect that we were eating whale. Have you ever eaten something that was especially delicious, and it really hits the spot. Perhaps I was suffering from an iron deficiency that day. Well, on this occasion, the liver tasted especially good despite lacking onions. I asked for seconds and thirds. My brothers continued eating it. Until I blurted, “The liver came out really good today!” My mother gave me a pained stare. And my brothers yelled, “Yuck, I hate liver!’ And they all stopped eating. My mother yelled at me because my brothers would have kept eating if they still believed they were eating whale. 

This reminds me of something that happened recently with my son Alex recently. We were at Old Country Buffet, and he came back to the table with what he thought were chicken fries. He said they were really good! When I went for seconds, I saw where he got the chicken fries. He was actually eating calamari. I love calamari, so I got some for myself. Alex was surprised that I would eat chicken fries. I told him what he really ate was calamari. He insisted on knowing what exactly calamari was. When I told him it was squid, he stopped eating his chicken fries! 

I guess sometimes you’re better off not knowing what you’re eating. 

DDR

Dangerous pics


My dashboard, as seen through my iPhone

As I was crossing the Mississippi River, I suddenly got the urge to take a picture of the St. Louis Arch at seventy miles per hour. What you see above is my failed attempt at taking that picture. I’m lucky to be alive! But the image is foreboding. If I don’t change my ways, I will surely hurt myself.

Ever since my blog readers requested pictures, I have been trying to take more pictures. However, I’m sure they didn’t mean for me to risk my life in the process.

Some people don’t like it when you sneak up on them and take their picture. But if they’re in public, they’re fair game. Sometimes they look at you strangely if you request to take pictures of their personal items. For example, I once went to the offices of all my colleagues at UIC to take pictures of their computers. They gave me the strangest looks when I asked permission to photograph their computer. I supposed I would react in a similar fashion if someone came to my office only to photograph my computer. Occasionally, when I go out with my friends to eat, I tell them, “Wait! Before you dig in, let me take a picture of your food!”

For a while, I was taking pictures of interesting license plates. But it seemed that I only time I saw interesting license plates was while I drove on the highway more than sixty miles per hour. This didn’t stop me from trying to take pictures. They say that talking on the phone while driving doubles your risk of getting into an accident. And texting increases your risk by eight times. But no one said how much the risk of getting into an accident is increased while trying to take pictures. I’m sure it increases a lot more than eight times. I have had a few close calls, so I can vouch for that.

Once while I was driving to UIC, I saw a license plate that read CHITOWN. I had to take a picture of it! I attempted to get my camera out and take the picture before the SUV bearing that plate turned. There was snow on the ground and the street was slippery. I had to get a picture of the plate! But it wasn’t just any CHITOWN plate. It was a Kansas license plate! I risked crashing my car and I took a couple of pictures. I was overjoyed by my success. When I got home, I noticed that the license plate was unreadable in both pictures. I risked my life for nothing! What were the chances of me seeing this Kansas SUV in Chicago again?

Miraculously, I saw the SUV again about a month later. Again, I took pictures as I drove north on south Ashland Avenue. The pictures didn’t come out clearly again! But I figured out that whoever drove the SUV was bound to come down Ashland Avenue again. And sure enough, about a month later, I saw which way it turned, and I followed it. I was hoping the driver would hurry up and leave the vehicle so I could take a picture of his license plate. But, no, he took his sweet time gathering his things. I was in a hurry to get to UIC, so I got out of my car to take a picture of his license plate. The driver gave me a very suspicious look, so I told him I only wanted a picture of his license plate. He silently consented, but he eyed me cautiously. Well, I’m used to always getting strange looks anyway, so I took the picture and left. But it turns out I was too far away, and the plate was too blurry to read.

Well, I knew the driver with the Kansas plate and I had similar schedules, so I would look for his vehicle in the same parking spot another day. A couple of weeks later, I saw it again. This time I parked right behind it. And I took several pictures to ensure that one of them would be readable. Just then, I noticed a man in a nearby vehicle reaching down under his seat and eyeing me suspiciously. At first, I was sure he was reaching for a gun, but I managed to convince myself that he was merely getting pen and paper to write down my license plate number. Regardless, I left as quickly as possible. Below, thanks to my persistence, you see the fruit of my labor. Behold!

CHI-TOWN on a Kansas license plate

I’m lucky to be alive! 

DDR

Mayor Daley


Daley Library, University of Illinois at Chicago

As a lifelong Chicagoan, Mayor Daley has always been part of my life. And by Mayor Daley, I mean both Richard J. Daley and Richard M. Daley. As a boy I lived under the reign of Richard Da First. In Back of the Yards, everyone knew Mayor Daley because his name always appeared on some of our neighborhood programs and in daily conversation. At Holy Cross, the Lithuanian nuns told us how Mayor Daley went to mass every day and was therefore a good Catholic and Chicagoan. Mayor Daley was a man of mythic proportions.

When Mayor Richard J. Daley died in 1976, I, along with many of my family and friends, were in shock. Mayor Daley was the only man we had known as The Mayor of Chicago. The last time I had such a feeling was when President Kennedy was assassinated. There was a period of alienation for Chicagoans during the interregnum until the next Mayor Daley was elected.

All true Chicagoans rejoiced when Richard M. Daley was elected mayor. The present Mayor Daley (Richard Da Second) is always highly criticized and panned for his politics and poor diction (like father, like son), but he always gets reelected, in part because of his father’s fame and reputation as good Chicagoan.

My life has crossed paths with the Daley family on many occasions. And I’m extremely thankful for that connection. Even when I’m not thinking about the Daleys, they remind me of their existence in some surprising way. Of course, there are all the signs at the Chicago airports to which Mayor Daley welcomes you. Then when I least expect it, I see another reminder somewhere totally unexpected. Once, when I was studying at the Saint Xavier University Library, I went to admire a stained glass window. I then noticed a small plaque that dedicated this window to Joseph Daley, father of Richard J. Daley who donated the window.

By good fortune, I was assigned to guard the home of Eleanor “Sis” Daley, the widow of Richard J. Daley, when I was a police officer. No police officer wanted to work the detail because it was perhaps the most boring assignment on the job, so as the rookie, I was assigned to sit it front of the house. I was attending UIC and I used to study while in the unmarked car. No one complained because I was always alert and awake and actually guarding the house. Sis once asked me if I was bored out there, so I told her I was going to school and the guard duty allowed me to catch up on my reading. When I finally graduated, somehow I made it into the Chicago Sun-Times for a Robert Herguth profile. Sis saw my profile and asked me to come into her house. She told me that she was proud of me. She said that her husband wanted to build a university in Chicago for students just like me and that was why UIC existed. She said that UIC was Mayor Daley´s greatest source of pride!

I thought it was a momentous occasion when Mayor Richard J. Daley’s writings went to the UIC library and the library was named after him. Yet another way that Mayor Daley impacted my life!

DDR

Photoshop


Photoshop at work!

I enjoy reading, but lately I’ve really enjoyed reading computer books. Well, with the computer books I read, it’s not actually reading. Most of those books for dummies and idiots are hands-on guides to using various programs. I’ve learned a lot about computing by reading those books, despite being neither a dummy nor an idiot. Maybe I’m just a nerd, but I love reading those computer books. I can now do many things with many programs. The downside is that someone is always asking me how to do certain things on the computer.

I learned to type on an old typewriter I found in our attic on Wood Street. I also found an old typing manual from which I learned how to type. When I was in the Marines, I took that typing manual with me and in my free time I did every single exercise in that book. And now I can touch type. So, it was a natural progression for me to start reading computer books to learn how to use programs.

I used to buy the books despite being extremely expensive. Then, they almost immediately became obsolete. I would use them once and remember all the commands that I planned to use. I had a huge pile of expensive, obsolete computer books that I eventually gave to the used bookstore. I always had the latest software and I always read the latest books. I still don’t understand how the latest knowledge on computer programs is directed at dummies and idiots. Apparently, there’s a huge market. I don’t buy these books anymore, but they’re available through the Chicago Public Library for free. Some branch in Chicago always has the book I need.

Photoshop has been the most difficult program for me to use. The main reason I bought the program was because my iPhone used it to download pictures to my computer. But then I found other uses for Photoshop.

I’ve been writing my blog for years. No frills, nothing fancy. Only plain vanilla text and formatting. Then, some of my readers started asking me when I would upload pictures with my posts. I was genuinely surprised! I had readers! That’s right! Readers! As in more than one. And they were reading my blog! They thought pictures would enhance my blog. So, I started taking pictures for the blog. I must admit that Photoshop has improved my pictures due to my lack of photography skills.

I read every Photoshop book available through my library and I learned quite a lot. Last May, I went to an educational seminar in Champaign-Urbana, Illinois, where I attended two Adobe classes where I learned more about how to use Photoshop. I never realized how many commands are available. I know I’ll never even use half of them, but it’s nice to know they’re available.

DDR

Donaldson, Indiana


This post office only came into existence because of Divine Heart Seminary and Ancilla Domini College nearby.

I know Heraclitus said you can’t step into the same river twice, but I tried anyway. I went back to Divine Heart Seminary in Donaldson, Indiana, to visit after a long absence of many years. Once again, I felt the urge to go back. But you can’t go back to the same place again. I knew this would happen, but I hoped against hope. I had braced myself for disillusionment, so I wasn’t saddened when I didn’t find places that I had wanted to revisit.

Sometimes, I like to go back to places from my past just to see if they still exist. Most places have actually improved from the way I remember them. However, DHS was not one of them. The main drive was a pot-hole violated road. I missed seeing the familiar white wooden fence that lined the main drive. When I got halfway down the drive, it was closed off with a No Trespassing sign. I stopped to take pictures anyway. The owner came to the gate to greet me. Yes, greet me. I’m sure he wasn’t checking up on me to make sure I didn’t trespass on his property! He was selling part of the property and they would soon knock down some of the buildings. He said that he would save the cornerstones so someone could send them to Hales Corners, Wisconsin. He wouldn’t allow me to take pictures on the property, but he said he would take some before the demolition began and promised to post them on the Internet.

Afterwards, I went down the road a piece to Ancilla Domini College. I learned “down the road a piece” while I was a student at DHS, so I like to sprinkled my driving directions with this phrase from time to time. Ancilla had not only survived beautifully, but it has also flourished in the intervening years. The Ancilla girls were cheerleaders for our sports teams, the tenacious and ferocious Deacons. We also used to go to Ancilla in the winter to Gilbert Lake to play ice hockey.

I decided to look for some other familiar places. The Hi Dee Ho Truck Stop on U.S. 30 was still there, but under a different name now. Days Country Store on old U.S. 30 was no longer there. The Dairy Queen in Plymouth was replaced by a new one that resembles any of the new Dairy Queens that I’ve seen all over the USA while driving around on vacation aimlessly. The bowling alley in Plymouth was gone. I went to Meyers Lake where we went camping with the Explorers Club. The Trading Post was gone. The campground where we camped was gone and a housing complex was in its place. But at least Meyers Lake was still there.

Other people would probably be disappointed with such a trip. But not me! Despite the many things that I expected to see being gone, I was extremely happy that I was not one of them!

DDR