Duke


Duke, 2509 W. Marquette Road, Chicago, Illinois 60629

My wife keeps asking me which was your favorite dog? And I keep answering, “Duke!” She thought I would say Pluto or Earl, but I have very fond memories of Duke.

Pluto was my wife’s dog that she bought years before we married. So Pluto was actually my step-dog. I loved Pluto a lot, but I kept recalling Duke everytime I played with Pluto. I took such good care of Pluto that he soon was promoted to my dog from step-dog. My wife was a little jealous. Pluto lived to be 18 years old. My wife was very distraught at Pluto’s passing.

She insisted that we get another dog, but I liked not having to walk or care for a dog. I enjoyed the freedom to eat in peace. My wife kept insisting that we get another dog. When her birthday rolled around, she said, “If you get me a dog for my birthday, you won’t have to give me any other birthday presents!” Reluctantly, we went to PAWS Chicago to adopt Earl, a rescue dog from Austin, Texas. I can only imagine why they named him Earl. Probably because of the troublemaker from the TV show My Name Is Earl.

I must admit that I enjoy having Earl because he was easy to housebreak and he is a lot of fun to have around. My wife loves Earl so much that she says that Earl is the best dog she has ever had. So my wife asks me, “Is Earl the best dog you have ever had?” I think about it for a while, and then I remember Duke. I say, “Duke was the best dog I ever had.” My wife is surprised and disappointed by my response.

Well, Duke was a stray street dog that found us in 1970. We lived at 4405 S. Wood Street and we attended Holy Cross School at 4547 S. Wood Street in Chicago. My brothers and I always walked to and from school together. As the oldest brother, I was charged with the safety and welfare of my little brothers while our parents were at work.

One day on our way home from school, we see a dog standing on the southeast corner of 45th and Wood Streets. He looks friendly and he waits until we reach him. We pet him for a while and then we continue walking home. Surprisingly, Duke willingly follows us home. At home, we didn’t bring him into the house, but we did give him a bowl of milk with bread in it on the back porch. We play with him in the backyard until my mother came home. My mother doesn’t believe us when we tell her the dog followed us home. She orders us to to take the dog out of the yard and close the gates so he wouldn’t come back.

The next day, we’re walking home from school again, and we see the dog waiting for us on the corner. We pet him and then start walking home. The dog follows us home again. We feed him and play with him in the backyard until my mother comes home. Again, she orders us to get rid of the dog and we do.

That weekend, I went to Divine Heart Seminary for a visit to see if I was interested in attending the seminary. I learned that I wasn’t interested at all. When I returned home, we were eating dinner when I noticed the dog was under the table. I was very surprised to see him in the house because my mother was adamant that we would not have a dog! I asked my mother, “What’s he doing here?” She said, “He’s our dog now!”

DDR

California Dreaming


Cloudgate

I have always enjoyed going to California, but I’m always happy to come back home to Chicago. I lived in California for three years while I served in the United States Marine Corps. I was tempted to move to California after my honorable discharge, but something didn’t feel right. The people were friendly. The weather was nice.

However, I was also discouraged by the natural disasters: droughts, floods, fires, and earthquakes. Not to mention all the serial killers. But those were the least of my concerns. I just didn’t feel like I fit in, but I wasn’t sure why. So I decided to come back home to Chicago.

My sister and my sister-in-law now live in southern California. Everytime I visit them, they try to convince me to live in California. They tell me that I would love living in California. I remind them that I had already lived in California for three years when I was in the Marines.

I wondered what it was that I didn’t like about California. I finally figured it out. No one had any family out there. And everyone I met was from somewhere else in the U.S. I think that’s why my sister and sister-in-law always try to entice us to move there. They have no family there.

When I lived in California, 1978-1981, No one I knew had family there. I went to a few parties and no had any family members present. They were from somewhere else and they moved there on their own. Most people moved because they like the moderate weather. Me? I liked the weather, too, but I had no complaints about the hot Chicago summers or the freezing cold Chicago winters. I was fully acclimated to living in Chicago.

Thinking back, what I really loved about Chicago was the fact that we are so family oriented. In high school, I would visit my friends and I would get to meet some, if not all, of their family. Totally different from California. I like going to downtown Chicago hearing someone from my past calling my name. If I go to a party, many times I will meet friends and maybe their parents or even grandparents. I like being surrounded by people I know even I don’t see them often.

I think that’s why I felt like I didn’t belong in California. No one really had a long-established connection there. Maybe I’m just too parochial. So when I go to California, I go visit the people I know there. I go to a party or two, but there is only one generation of each guest. No one has family roots there. At least, not the people I meet there.

After all these years, I realize that I feel right at home in Chicago!

DDR

95.1 degrees


That’s close enough to 98.6

What is the normal body temperature? 98.6 degrees Fahrenheit. Right? Well, I’m not always normal. At least that’s what I learned when I was transferred to Camp Pendleton, California, and I went to the medical section. My temperature was 95.1 degrees.

In the United States Marine Corps, we had to have a physical exam every time we were transferred. I was examined many times by doctors and nurses since the first day I enlisted. We were examined before we left Chicago for boot camp. Then we were examined when we arrived at boot camp. Then we continuously went to the medical section to get a battery of vaccines in case we were ever deployed overseas. I was examined again when I arrived in 29 Palms, California, in the middle of the Mohave Desert.

When I was in the Marines (1978-1981), I went boot camp at MCRD San Diego California. Then I was stationed at 29 Palms in the middle of the Mohave Desert for one year while I attended electronics school. Needless to say, the weather is “warm” year-round. I was surprised to learn that I would be stationed in the middle of the Mohave Desert to train for electronics repair. 29 Palms in the desert does not sound extremely exciting, even if they said there was a girl behind every tree. Plus, there weren’t many trees at the base!

I was stationed there for about one year while I studied for my MOS of 28 something or other–I can’t recall the rest of the number now. I learned electronics and how to repair the field radio PRC-77. There wasn’t much entertainment on base, and daylight hours were usually hot. You know how they say, “It’s not the heat, it’s the humidity”? Well, when it’s 120 degrees, it’s extremely hot even without the humidity! And they had heat warnings with different colored flags. The only one I remember is the Black Flag: Do not go outside for anything!

Luckily, I enjoyed reading and running. So, when I wasn’t in class or studying for class, I would read or run a lot. I also started writing regularly. I had started running in high with the cross country team. I wasn’t very fast and I didn’t have much long-distance endurance, but I really enjoyed running! Since I arrived at base in December, the temperaure was usually in the 90s when I went running. I ran six miles almost everyday, which was the distance I ran before going to boot camp. As the thermometer continued to climb, I kept running, acclimating to the heat. Almost everyone thought I was crazy for running, not just because of the heat, but also because no one required that we run. So I kept running even with the Black Flag warning. The runs were challenging and I did have to drink a lot of water afterward. I was so proud of myslef because I was the only runner–strike that–the only living being outside in the sun in the afternoon. I though I had acclimated exceptionally well to the desert and its heat.

One day, on one of my runs, I felt like I was running in slow motion, but I completed my six miles anyway. When I returned to the barracks, I drank water from the water cooler repeatedly for about ten minutes. I felt very dehydrated, I must have drunk about a gallon. One of my fellow Marines saw me drinking water, and asked me, “You didn’t go running today, did you?” I nodded my head yes. He said, “Are you crazy? Today the Mohave Desert broke the record for the hottest day. Death Valley Desert did, too!” No wonder I felt hot!

So, when the medical section at Camp Pendleton is shocked that my temperature is 95.1 degrees, they ask me how I feel. I tell them that I feel fine, but they don’t seem convinced. They take my vitals again. My temperature is still 95.1. “Did you drink cold water recently?” the nurse asked. “No,” I replied. They asked a lot of questions about how I felt at the moment asked me questions about my family’s health history. They were mistified.

The nurse made a few phone calls about my “condition,” but I couldn’t make out the whole conversation. Previously, when I tried to posit my theory as to why my temperature was so low, they cut me off. They were the medical experts! They asked me if I was trying to get a medical discharge. Of course, not!

Finally, about thirty minutes later, they took my temperature again. 95.1 degrees! “Why do you think your temperature is so low?” they finally asked. They had no explanation. I explained that I had lived in the Mohave Desert for the last year and that I had acclimated to the desert heat very well. They just shook their heads. I told them that I had run six miles almost everyday for the last year, no matter how hot it was. That sounded impossible to them.

They made a few more phone calls. They wrote some notes in my medical folder. Finally, they told me, “Go back to your unit.” The ordeal made me question what is normal? No one has ever accused me of being normal. Whatever that is.

DDR

Bob Dylan for President


Nobel Gold Medal

We need an intelligent president. We should raise the qualifications to run for President of the United States of America. All we need to do is add one more criterion. All candidates must have won the Nobel Prize. Nobel Prize winners are intelligent. We have so many American Nobelists who are scientists and economists. I’m sure any Nobel Prize winner would make a great president.

I would nominate Bob Dylan, who was awarded the Nobel Prize for literature in 2016. He would be prepared to answer any question.

“Why should we vote for a musician?”

“The times they are a-changin’.”

“How does the campaign trail make you feel?”

“Like a rollin’ stone.”

“How unhealthy is our air quality?”

“The answer, my friend, is blowin’ in the wind.”

“And what do you think of our current president’s direction?”

“Knock, knock, knockin’ on heaven’s door.”

“What would you say to personal attacks by a female politician?”

“Lay, lady, lay. Lay across my big brass bed.”

“When you win the election, what will you tell your supporters?”

“We did it! Everybody must get stoned!”

DDR

What is love?


What have you learned in your life about love?

Photo by Jasmine Carter on Pexels.com

How do I define love? I’m not sure. How do I use the word love? Here are some ways I have used “love” throughout my life:

  • I love my mother.
  • I love my father.
  • I love my wife.
  • I love my children.
  • I love my friends
  • I love my dog.
  • I love pizza.
  • I love reading.
  • I love writing.

The word “love” changes meaning in every sentence I wrote above. If it didn’t, I would be in dire need of counseling. And I probably would have been convicted of several crimes by now. As you can see, “love” changes from context to context. “Love” is a many splintered thing.