Lessons I’ve learned through the school of hard knocks. This is my catch-all, miscellaneous category if you will, where I address topics that don’t quite fit into the other categories.
I have had several readers comment on the blog pics. Or to put it better, the lack of pictures in my blog. For some strange reason unbeknownst only to me, readers would like to see pictures on my blog. Well, I’ve been slowly, but surely been taking pictures and gathering them in order to post them fastly and furiously. But give me time. I now have thousands of pics, but I have to decide which are truly worthy enough to be posted. You shall soon see the results. But don’t rush me and don’t get your hopes up too high.
El Gallo de Oro Mexican restaurant, Chicago, Illinois.
Well, now it can be told. First, you must admit that you have a problem before you can solve it. My problem? I like to retrace my steps all the way back to my youth.
So tonight, I went to El Gallo de Oro, bought a steak burrito, and parked in Marquette Park by the Rose Garden to eat it, as I am wont to do. I used to do it all the time, but tonight I compared scenarios.
The first time I bought a burrito at El Gallo de Oro, I lived down the block at 3006 W. 64th Street and I only paid $2.25 with tax. But that was twenty-seven years ago. Today, I paid $6.06 with tax. Today, I barely finished my burrito, but twenty-seven years ago, I would also order two or three tacos or tostadas on the side. I would practically inhale all this food and I only weighed 140 pounds, compared to my 180 or so today.
And Marquette Park isn’t the same, either. No one cruises through the park like in days of old. This used to be the place to hang out, to see and be seen by everyone. I don’t think anyone even noticed I was there tonight. Not even the police car that drove past me driving the wrong way.
On the plus side? I felt very safe there in my solitude reminiscing about my days of old when I was young and naïve and didn’t realize that the grease from the burrito had dripped on my shirt until the person I was trying to impress would point out the grease stain. Okay, I don’t miss the dripping grease all that much. I’m much older and wiser now.
Quick! What do you think of when you hear drive-in? I think of the movie Grease! and John Travolta singing Stranded at the Drive-in after Sandy left him.
Unfortunately, there aren’t many drive-in theaters in America anymore. I used to love going to the drive-in. I remember sneaking my friend in by putting him in the trunk, so we wouldn’t have to pay for him.
The drive-in was always a unique way to watch movies. I used to go to a drive-in in Twenty-nine Palms, California, where you could roller skate and watch a movie simultaneously. Well, I was telling my sons about my drive-in adventures, and they couldn’t understand what I was talking about. I always like to broaden their horizons, so when I failed to explain to them how much fun we used to have at the drive-in, I wanted to take them to one, but I didn’t think there were any drive-ins left in our area. But I googled “drive-in” and discovered there was a Cascade Drive-In in West Chicago.
I took my sons just so they could see what a drive-in was like. Things were a little different from the last time I went. You can now listen to the movie on your car radio on AM or FM! They still had gray steel speakers on the poles, but they didn’t work. All cars are supposed to drive with their headlights off, but mine stay on whenever I start the engine. I sat on a lawn chair so my sons could sit in the front seats. Boy was I sorry! The compact car next to us contained an entire family. And they were so crammed into their little car that they were complaining during the whole movie.
Well, my sons and I thoroughly enjoyed the experience, but we decided never to go to the drive-in again.
I never used to drink coffee until I discovered its magical powers of keeping me awake after sleep-depriving nights and its ability to make me look pensive and meditative while reading in the coffee shop. While I do enjoy the coffee that baristas offer, I always prefer to drink my own home-brewed concoction. I don’t know why, but my coffee tastes better to me than even the most expensive gourmet coffee at any coffee shop.
I love to lounge around the house in the morning sipping at my coffee while I read my e-mail before I go out for my morning run. I used to have a Mr. Coffee with a timer that my mother-in-law gave me for my birthday, but then she died, I got divorced, and my Mr. Coffee stopped working.
So, I decided to splurge on a new coffee maker. I bought a Cuisinart Grind and Brew coffee maker in 2003 and enjoyed its coffee until about three months ago. It had a timer, so I was able to set it up the night before and literally wake up and smell the coffee. About two years ago, my beloved Cuisinart stopped functioning like new and I tried to fix it–following in my father’s footsteps–but I was lucky to put it back together again without improving its performance. The only thing I got out of the experience was a headache, minor cuts on my fingertips, and a very lame blog entry. But I continued using the coffee maker until about two months ago when I could no longer disassemble the grinder to wash it. I tried everything to pry it out, but it was more stubborn than me.
Finally, I decided to buy another coffee maker. This was my chance to try a new brand, but I loved my Cuisinart so much that I decided to buy the exact same model again. I bought it in 2003 for $125 plus sales tax. So, I expected to pay much more in 2008. Surprisingly, that model was still about the same price at most stores, but I like shopping online and I noticed that amazon.com sold it for $119, with no sales tax and no shipping charges.
Then, I noticed that they also sold a refurbished version of the same model. I was incredibly surprised to discover that a refurbished coffee maker cost more than a new one: $144! Obviously, I bought a new one. I received it at my door within three business days! I happened to be home at the time and the UPS guy put the package directly in my own hands! I was glad I bought the new model because Cuisinart had improved its performance ever so slightly, but enough to make a notable difference that was apparent from the first cup of coffee. In fact, I burned myself with the very first sip. I didn’t realized the my old coffee maker was no longer making very hot coffee. Wow! Hopefully, I’ll get at least five years out of this one.
Now that I’m playing at the UIC Chess Club, I’m starting to recall how I used to play chess. The last time I played chess seriously was in high school about thirty-two years ago. Somehow, my chess skills have gotten rusty! The chess atmosphere has changed a lot since then. I kind of miss the cigar smoke while playing chess.
These players in the UIC Chess Club are really into chess, but their attitude is completely different from mine. When I got into chess, I felt impelled to learn everything possible about the game. I learned the history of chess, the important chess players, the terminology, and the classic chess openings. As I played the last two Tuesdays, I tried to remember some of the terminology, but no one knew any of it–or even seemed remotely interested in learning terms like rank, row, file, or column.
One player touched a piece and said, “I adjust.” I said, “You mean, ‘J’adoube.'” My remark was met with a blank stare. Hmm.
One player asked advice of another, and I never heard anyone talk about “control the center” or “castle early.” This was like culture shock to me. Later, a few players discussed the merits of learning book openings, and the consensus was that learning openings wasn’t necessary to become a talented player. I was so rusty that I lost most of my games. I was surprised that I won any games at all. I would inadvertently give away pieces or set myself up for a knight fork. When I was playing chess, I used to open P-K4; now it’s E4. This will take some getting used to. My biggest surprise came when I had to take back a move because I was in check. No one says, “Check!” when they check your king. I’m so rusty that I didn’t realize that I was in check.
Well, I improved when I returned the next Tuesday. I try to be realistic and try to evaluate just how well I played when I was in high school. Even back then I made bad moves or gave up pieces. But I’m sure I will improve with a little more practice.
Chicago USA 