It’s becoming a tradition to grow a beard during the Stanley Cup playoffs. There is even an official NHL site, but it is more of a charity event than actually seeing the results from start to finish. I began documenting my attempt this year. Alas, the Chicago Blackhawks did not survive Round 3 for the Division title and the Stanley Cup finals.
A number of people liked the way I look with the beard, so instead of automatically shaving it off after the elimination, I decided to add an age progression for my next favorite Chicago sports team. Unfortunately they haven’t done to well in recent memory and don’t seem on the track to improve much in the immediate future. Maybe in my lifetime …
It was the annual bridge raising event when boats (with tall masts) return to Lake Michigan. Bridges are raised sequentially as they head towards the lakefront.
For all those trips out on the train that involve carrying a large bike, well this is the new traveling one.
In Chicago, bicycles are allowed on trains except for rush hour service. Being allowed and actually getting your bike on a train are two different matters. Getting on isn’t too bad, but getting off is a terrifying experience for me. I have to control a bike with flapping wheel down high, steep stairs and I always feel like IU’m going to fall head first onto the platform.
I’ve seen the Dahon folding bikes in Chicago — popular with commuters. My brother-in-law has one and keeps it in the trunk of the car. I went to Kozy’s and saw this model, took a short ride, and bought it.
It’s a bit hard to get used to because of the smaller wheels. Not quite as stable as my full-sized bike, but a pleasure to ride. I learned to be careful. The handle bars adjust up and down over a wide range and I started out with them high — ape hanger style. On a gavel train, riding one handed, I hit a rock, the wheel swerved to the right, and I wound up falling on my back. It took a while and I felt that perhaps I made a mistake. Subsequent rides on pavement, both hands, and the handle bars lower so that I have a bit of pressure has re-built my confidence. I will ride this bike on trails — carefully. Now if only winter would go away.
Went to the Auto Show with the grandkids who enjoyed jumping into every car they could and making a good “kid” evaluation, e.g. two video monitors, easy pull-down seats, etc.
This could be the year!
Amazingly I got them to pose in front of this car and got one good shot with them smiling rather than making funny faces, sticking out their tongues, and generally making fun of anyone who isn’t a Sox fan.
My very first professional baseball experience was in the 1940’s when the Pittsburgh Pirates lost to the Chicago Cubs in Wrigley Field. I know they call it the “friendly confines,” but someone tried to drop a half-filled cup of beer on me by dropping it while I was exiting the stand. It missed me by inches, but that’s another story.
Andy Pafko in 1948 — The Cubs in the Series
I’ve been a Cubs fan ever since. Buried away in my boxes of childhood objects I have Andy Pafko’s autograph from the time when he visited Elm Place School in Highland Park. It doesn’t bother me about win or lose, at least I don’t think so. Beer bombs or not, being exposed to baseball from the stands in Wrigley Field is an experience, a right of passage for us North Siders.
The experience of going to a game, however, is becoming less and less attractive. We live downtown and the Red Line is no problem if you don’t mind a bit of a crowd. The price of the tickets has risen, my grandkids can easily down $50 of food each, and changes to the field abound. Night games! OK, a necessity, but the signs, etc. — you can hardly see the guys change the score on the old board.
Now it has finally happened. The last straw. What was wrong with the old “mascot?” I guess that exposing your kids and grandkids to the Cubs is now all about having the Cubs, in the persona of Clark, expose himself to you.
Clark Cub
Will the anatomically correct Clark last the season, or will he find a pair of pants? Or perhaps more importantly, is this a way of ending the Cubs of yesterday with a “modern” version of the Cubs?
Honestly I would prefer that the Ricketts Family change the name to the Kane Kounty Kodiaks, move the team to the end of the world, charge whatever they want for admission and food, and let the Chicago Historical Society run Wrigley Field as the museum it is for us old-time fans.
