Bonus years


Queen of Heaven Cemetery.

When I was little, I wasn’t sure how long I would live. I was a healthy boy, so I’m not sure why I always wondered about my longevity. Of course, being a Catholic, I was always reminded not to commit any mortal sins because if I died suddenly and unexpectedly, I would immediately go to hell.

And now that I think about it, I could die at any moment. I could some day walk out onto Halsted Street and get hit by a bus. I only say this because I was once almost hit by a bus on Halsted Street. In fact, it was just the other day. I was thinking about many things other than paying attention to crossing the street. I’m still not sure why I didn’t see the bus.

When my uncle Joseph “Pepe” Rodriguez died in Viet Nam, I was sure that I would never live to see twenty-one. I was sure I, too, would be drafted and die in Viet Nam. So I always considered all the years beyond twenty-one bonus years.

My mother died when she was fifty-one, and now that I’m fifty-one, eight months old, I have lived longer than her. I have always been an optimist and I realize I’m lucky to have lived to be this old. I actually like having gray hair, particularly because I have a full head of hair. I can still run six miles everyday, when I have time. I’m not rich, but I’m not starving either. Since I didn’t get drafted to go to Viet Nam, I’ve had all these bonus years that I haven’t always used very wisely. However, I realize that I’m lucky to be alive! The way I see it now, all the years that I live beyond fifty-one will be bonus “bonus years.”

There was a time when I wanted to live to be a hundred, mainly because 100 is a nice big round number. Now, I’d rather continue living the happy life that I now have without thinking about how much time I have left. I am ever the optimist!

DDR

The Chicago Way


Picasso Sculpture, Daley Center, Chicago, Illinois

Today, I read the The Chicago Way by Tom McNamee in the Chicago Sun-Times in which he talks about jokes that work only in Chicago. Well, I would like to share some of those jokes with you, my fellow Chicagoans. He starts out with “Noel, Noel … So I took the bus.” I remember hearing a different version of this joke at Holy Cross School told by a nun: “Some Christmas carolers are under the El tracks downtown singing, “Noel, Noel …” Along comes a drunk and tells them, “Then take a bus!”

My friend Vito Vitkauskas wrote this Chicago joke that I used to use in my comedy routine: I once broke my arm in three places. Halsted, Lincoln, and Fullerton.

Ken Green, in today’s Sun-Times, wrote two funny haikus, or as he calls them, Chi-kus:

The CTA bus
a very rare animal
moves in packs of three

In my house we vote
Even my uncle votes
May he rest in peace

Here are some of the other jokes printed in the column:

  1. How many Chicagoans does it take to park a car? Seven. One behind the wheel and six to rearrange the kitchen chairs.
  2. Why is Chicago known as the city that works? Because whatever the problem–a parking ticket or a murder indictment–it can be fixed.
  3. We all know why the chicken crossed the road, but why did the lady duck cross Walton Place? To get to the Drake.
  4. I heard Mayor Daley has a plan to get crime off the streets. Yeah, he’s going to widen the sidewalks.
DDR

Wing Yip


Wing Yip in Bridgeport

For the finest Chinese Food, you must go to Bridgeport on Chicago’s south side. Wing Yip Chop Suey, 537 W. 26th Street, 312.326.2822, is a cozy, family-owned Chinese carry-out restaurant. If you dine in, don’t expect a fancy ambiance. In fact, don’t even ask to use their public restroom. They don’t have one!

I have eaten at this Bridgeport establishment since the early 1980s, but I’m not sure what it was called back then because I don’t remember the restaurant ever having a sign outside with its name on it. This place doesn’t look like much from the outside–or the inside, now that I think of it–but the food is delicious and they serve generous portions for a more than reasonable price.

As you wait for your food, you may read the Chicago Tribune or Sun-Times that someone left behind after reading it. The carry-out customers are Bridgeport residents and people who work in the neighborhood. Everyone in Wing Yip is very friendly. People often meet other acquaintances, friends, or family members by surprise when they go there. But strangers greet each other, too. The loyal customers love this place so much that anyone who patronizes Wing Yip has something in common with all other customers who walk in. So it’s not that unusual for total strangers to greet each other and start up a conversation.

As a police officer, I used to like to eat lunch there because everyone respected the police there and I would meet other police officers whom I hadn’t seen in years. This is also a great police restaurant because the service is fast and cheap. I sometimes go out of my way just to eat there now that I’m a retired police officer. I like the fact that they know me by name because I’ve spent so much time in there over the years. If you go there, you just may see me sitting in the corner doing the crossword puzzle.

DDR

The Beatles


Photo by Amanda Malec on Pexels.com

I’m not sure what happened to me, but I was the last kid in Holy Cross School to learn about the latest phenomenon sweeping the country known as the Beatles. To this day, I’m not sure how I remained so oblivious for so long.

One day in the third grade, Sister Francine announced that the Beatles had come to Holy Cross and everyone one in class started screaming hysterically–except for me. I almost panicked since I didn’t understand the true nature of this Beatles invasion.

Luckily, my best friend Patrick who was wise to the ways of the world informed me that the Beatles was a British rock band and that I could come out from under my desk now. Later during the school day, there was a mysterious knocking on the classroom door and Sister Francine opened the door and shouted, “The Beatles are here!” And again the whole class screamed hysterically–except for me, again. But this time I didn’t dive under my desk.

Four girls with black hair who had bangs and their hair tied back were dressed in black turtleneck shirts and black pants. They had electric guitars and a couple of snare drums. They were the Beatles. They also brought in the school phonograph that looked like a small suitcase and played some 45 rpm records of the Beatles on it. The only songs I remember are “She Loves You, Yeah, Yeah, Yeah” and “I Wanna Hold Your Hand.”

They lip synced the words and the whole class swarmed around them and screamed continuously. I was the last student sitting until Patrick cued me in to swarm around the band, too. When the Beatles finished playing their set, everyone asked for their autographs. I really didn’t understand what they were doing until Patrick explained everything to me and handed me a pencil and a piece of paper. He pushed me toward the Beatles in order to get an autograph. I approached the drummer since no one was near her and I knew her as Teresa Rosiles from the neighborhood. She signed my paper as Ringo Starr. I didn’t even know who Ringo Starr was, but Patrick explained all about the Beatles and Paul and John and George and Ringo to me. To be truthful, I don’t know where I would be today if I had never met Patrick McDonnell.

A few years later when I delivered newspapers on the 4800 block of south Honore Street, I saw a poster in the window of one of those mom and pop grocery stores in the middle of the block. The Beatles were advertising their concert in Comiskey Park in August of 1965. Every time I saw that poster, I would remember fondly the time I went to my first Beatles concert at Holy Cross School!

DDR

Language jokes


Dr. D. laughing in Spanish.

As you may have noticed, I like jokes. Here’s a riddle. What do you call a person who speaks two languages? Bilingual. What do you call a person who speaks three languages? Trilingual. What do you call a person who speaks one language? American.

A Swiss man, looking for directions, pulls up at a bus stop where two American tourists are waiting.
“Entschuldigung, koennen sie deutsch sprechen?” he asks. The two Americans just stare at him.
“Excusez-moi, parlez vous francais?” he tries.
The two men continue to stare.
“Parlare italiano?” No response.
“Hablan ustedes español?” Still nothing.
The Swiss man drives off, extremely disgusted. The first American turns to the second and says, “Y’know, maybe we should learn a foreign language.”
“Why?” says the other. “That guy knew four languages, and it didn’t do him any good.”

A man tells his friend, “I’m going to learn German.” His friend says that German is a hard language to learn. The man replies, “How hard can it be? I’ve heard three-year-olds speaking it.

“I’m glad I wasn’t born in France.” “Why’s that?” “I don’t speak French!”

A man gave his wife a parrot. The next day, they’re eating dinner and the man notices that the parrot isn’t in its cage. He asks, “Where’s the parrot.” The wife says, “We’re having it for dinner.” “What? That parrot spoke three languages!” “Well, why didn’t it say something?”

A student fell asleep during an English professor’s lecture on pronouns. Upset, the professor wakes up the student by asking him to name two pronouns. The student replies, “Who? Me?” “Very good,” says the professor.

This linguistics professor was lecturing the class. “In English,” he explained, “a double negative forms a positive. In some languages, such as Spanish, a double negative is still a negative.” “However,” the professor continued, “there is no language wherein a double positive can form a negative.” Immediately, a voice from the back of the room piped up: “Yeah … right …”

DDR