Leaving the world a little better than I found it by sharing my passions and dreams, what inspires me,
and maybe you too, and furthering the discussion about how we can listen to our better angels.
If you didn't grow up in Chicago during the 1970s or 1980s, this post probably isn't for you because you probably think the guy in the Empire Today commercials has always been a cartoon character. The truth is that every kid in the Chicagoland Area got his or her first singing lessons from Elmer Lynn Hauldren, better known as The Empire Man.
He passed away today at 89. You still know the words. And in Lynn's honor, on the count of three, let's all sing it together...
1....2....3....
And because those cartoons will never really replace the real thing, here's another commercial.
If everything had gone as planned, I would be sitting in her pew at Crystal Beach Community Church feeling her presence next to me and remembering her reaching over to hold my hand as we sang hymns. Then I'd be enjoying lunch at Sam's Fresh Seafood with Mom. We'd end the day standing on the Crystal Beach Pier watching the sunset into the Gulf of Mexico.
Unfortunately, nothing went as planned this week and I'm in Arlington Heights.
So I'll be celebrating Nana's birthday by sitting in a pew in the church I grew up attending, the First Presbyterian Church of Arlington Heights. I don't know what else I'll do tomorrow, but I'm going to enjoy the dessert I remember Nana making more often than any other: Vanilla bean ice Cream and fresh peaches.
I remember cutting up peaches with her, scooping ice cream into the little Blue Willow china dessert bowls and sitting around the big dining room table while we all enjoyed the refreshing treat. After dinner, we'd wash and put away the dishes together and then walk down to the pier to watch the sunset.
Such a simple wonderful way to end the day. Just like Nana. Simple and wonderful.
In honor of Nana, here's her favorite hymn. We sang it at her Celebration of Life service on her birthday last year. It's hard to believe that a year ago I saw her for the last time. She looked so peaceful in her casket, although it was truly almost more than I could do to look at her. I just didn't want her to be gone. The truth is I still don't want her to be gone, but I'm doing better this year.
Let me just state upfront that I know that when Dave gets wind of this post (which may take a little while because despite having been the 8th fan of Little Merry Sunshine on Facebook, he does not actually read Little Merry Sunshine with any regularity), he will probably kill me, but this story is just too good not to share. It's even possible that it's better than the famous Herpes Story (which I've now brought up twice in two days).
When Dave was little (3 years old or so to . . . ), he was obsessed with Superman. In fact, obsessed may well be an understatement. Dave pretty much thought he was Superman. He loved to dress up as Superman and even stole my blue tights and red boots I'd outgrown to wear with his Superman Underroos. Plus, our mom, who was a terrific seamstress (a talent she learned from Nana), sewed him the perfect Superman cape. Believe me, this was no made-in-China-falls-apart-after-2-wearings cape. This cape is still around and in good shape 30 years later. I could tell you where it is, but I would never give away Superman's secrets. Where did Dave go to become Superman, you wonder? Like you have to ask. Of course, he went into his "phone booth" formerly known as Dave's bedroom closet. Yes, it had a sign designating it as his phone booth.
Dave ran around the house and neighborhood in full Superman costume anytime he could. In fact, he usually wore part of his costume under real clothes. He simply loved being Superman.
One day when Dave was in pre-school, our mom received a phone call from the teacher to discuss Dave's behavior in class. It seems that day had been a Show and Tell day. When it was his turn, Dave got up appearing to have nothing to show his class. The teachers were at the back of the room, possibly only half paying attention, when all the sudden they heard him announce that he needed to undress to show the class what he'd brought for Show and Tell. In a panic, worried that he was about to disrobe, they flew to the front of the room to prevent him from stripping. Calmly, and unaware of what they were obviously thinking, Dave simply informed them and his class that he just wanted to let everyone know he was Superman (so I guess he had their backs?) and prove it by showing off the Superman costume that he was wearing in its entirety under his street clothes (a la Clark Kent?). Unconvinced, they did not allow him to show off his alter-ego.
I wish I could show you pictures of Dave in costume, but I don't have any pictures that are scanned. Believe me, if I had them, I'd post them. They're that good.
I tell you this story because yesterday, there was a feature on Huffington Post titled "Punished for Being Awesome? The Most Ridiculous Detention Slips of All Time" and it was complete with pictures. Offenses ranged from a student correcting a teacher's error in front of the class to a student receiving oral sex from another student. Yes, really. My favorite, however, was the detention slip pictured below. I honestly have to believe it may have been written for Dave about 30 years too late. What kind of teacher gives Superman a detention, anyway?
I know that everyone loves St. Patrick's Day, but I've just never gotten into it. I'm not Irish, so that doesn't tie me to it. As for going drinking in a bar, I like to have a beer every now and again, but I've never really enjoyed going to an overcrowded bar to drink til I'm drunk, which is what seems to happen a lot on St. Patrick's Day. And I don't own any green clothing. It's not that I'm trying to be curmudgeonly, St. Patrick's Day just isn't my thing.
Over lunch today, a number of women were sharing their family traditions on St. Patrick's Day. Some of them were Irish and had corned beef and cabbage waiting in the crock pot and had spent the weekend making loaves of soda bread. One woman shared that in her house, they were having corned beef and green mashed potatoes because she's got little kids. Last year, she made green mac & cheese for dinner. St. Patrick's Day isn't my thing, but I love her enthusiasm for the holiday and how she made it fun for her kids. If I had kids, I'd probably do that too.
That reminded me of the St. Patrick's Day when I was about 5 or 6 and came out for breakfast only to discover that my mom had made us green scrambled eggs and green milk. I was so grossed out at the sight of green eggs and green milk that I don't think I've eaten eggs or drank any milk since.
Needless to say, my St. Patrick's Day celebration tonight consisted of a meeting at Lake Forest College, a visit with one of my favorite professors, a quick trip to the beach (where I did not park my car, although I did send a text message), a client appointment, and a quick Italian dinner with a good friend capped off with green frosted sugar cookies. I was going to go grocery shopping too, but why do today, what I can put off until tomorrow?
To most people, this may not mean much, except for the loss of jobs and tax revenue in Arlington Heights, which to be sure are not insignificant and by no means am I minimizing.
But I've got a personal connection to the hotel. I used to live there.
I remember having sleepovers in our suite with my girlfriends, taking a taxi to school in the morning, and having orange sherbet delivered from room service. I remember riding the elevator up and down each floor trying to sneak onto the penthouse level and spending hours upon hours in what I grew to refer to as "our pool." I remember sitting on the steps of the Cinderella Rockafella (the nightclub attached to the Hilton, more recently the training center for Allstate employees) with my friend Amy watching the high school kids arrive for their proms in their 1982 finest. I remember the night I was at the hotel alone while my parents were at a church meeting (I don't remember where Dave was) and I became sick, calling down to the front desk and a very nice woman helping me until my parents got back.
My favorite memory though is of the day I called the Apple Farm to order lunches, as I did ever day to place my order for "one turkey and cheese with mayo, lettuce and tomato and a peanut butter and jelly on wheat" and got it all between just two pieces of bread. One sandwich with turkey, cheese, mayo, lettuce, tomato, peanut butter and jelly. We still laugh about that.
Even after we moved out and moved back into our home, we often went back for Sunday brunch after church or for significant milestones. We even enjoyed Christmas dinner there in 1996.
Most people probably drive past the Sheraton and just see a large brick building. I drive by and see my former home; the place that kept my family together during one of the most challenging times of our lives and also gave us many happy memories. And I'm sad to see it go.
In addition to Nana's White Fruit Cake, Christmas in my house wasn't complete with Nana's Date Loaf Candy.
I'll be honest, I don't love Date Loaf Candy as much as I love Fruit Cake. In fact, I probably haven't had any in close to 20 years and at my request, Nana never sent me any.
That said, everyone else in my family loves Date Loaf Candy and I will be making it this Christmas. Shhhh! Don't tell them.
Just like with Nana's White Fruit Cake, I don't know where this recipe originated, but it came as part of the recipe collection I was given in 1999. The words are Nana's because I think it taste better made the way she thought about it.
Nana's Date Loaf Candy
Ingredients 3 cups sugar 3 Tbs White Karo Syrup 1 cup milk 3 Tbs Oleo (JLG Note: "oleo" is butter or margarine, I'll use butter) 8 oz pitted Dates (chopped) 1 cup Pecans (chopped)
Directions 1. Combine first 3 ingredients in sauce pan and cook until makes a soft ball in cold water. Cook about 12-15 minutes. Will turn dark while cooking. You can sample little in cold water several times and will feel kinda hard.
2. Add Oleo and stir in dates. I chop into pieces so will dissolve easier. Continue to stir.
3. Add pecans and with spoon take a big helping and roll into a sausage-type roll. I put butter on my hands to roll easier and stuff will be hot.
4. Place on a damp cloth then roll into a roll about 2 inches across.
5. I put on bottom refrigerator shelf and leave for 20-30 minutes. Then you can take out and cut into about 4 pieces and roll in wax paper or Saran Wrap and put in Ziploc bag and leave until ready to eat.
6. Slice into 1/2 inch slices. Enjoy!
DO NOT MAKE ON RAINY DAY.
JLG UPDATE 10/19/2009: I posed some questions to my mom today who informs me that Nana's recipe makes about 2 12 inch logs. The number of pieces of candy it will make depends on how thick you choose to cut each piece from the log and whether you cut the round pieces into 4 bite-sized pieces or not (Nana never did). If you are planning to keep your Date Loaf Candy for any length of time, then it should be stored in the refrigerator.
While searching for recipes of Nana's, I perused the Batesville (MS) Presbyterian Church Cookbook from 1993 and found the Date Loaf Candy Recipe submitted by Nana's sister, Dixie Gladney. They are similar, but with a few slight differences.
Louise L. Smith's Date Loaf Candy submitted by Dixie (Scruggs) Gladney
Ingredients 2 cups sugar 1 cup milk 1 1/2 Tbsp. butter 1 cup chopped dates 1 cup chopped pecans 1 tsp. vanilla
Directions Cook sugar, milk and butter to soft ball stage. Add dates and boil 5 minutes. Take from heat and beat until thick. Add nuts then beat again until real stiff. Wet a cloth kitchen towel. Spread candy with spoon into long roll on wet cloth, then roll 1 ply cloth around candy to make roll. Unwrap and let set. Will be sticky at first. Slice into 1/2-inch slices.
(JLG Note: Yes, I know, there's no explanation of what to do with the vanilla. I'd suggest adding it to the sugar, milk and butter, but I haven't made this recipe.)
Nana was famous for her fruit cake. I know fruit cake gets a bad rap, but you haven't tried Nana's. It is light and airy and quite simply heaven in a bread pan. I knew I was grown up the first time Nana sent me my very own fruit cake, in December 1993, the first Christmas I was in Washington, D.C. But 6 years later, in December 1999, Nana trusted me with her fruit cake recipe was the year I knew I was an adult.
Nana baked her last fruit cake in January 2006. David and I spent a week in Florida and after church on Sunday, Mom, Nana and I made Nana's fruit cake. I savored the fruit cakes we made that January, each year having just a little, so that the first Christmas Nana wasn't with us anymore, she'd still be with us. I still have part of one fruitcake that I guess we'll finish this Christmas.
I'll be making Nana's White Fruit Cake this Christmas on my own, for the first time, and sharing it with my friends and loved ones. I'll stick to her recipe exactly, except that my cakes will probably also include a few tears. They'll be tears of both joy and sadness. Joy because of all the wonderful memories I have around Nana's Fruit Cake and Christmas and sadness because it's the first Christmas without Nana.
I don't know the origin of Nana's fruit cake recipe. I've always just thought of it as Nana's White Fruit Cake, so that's how I titled it.
Today, I'm happy to share Nana's recipe with you. I thought about keeping it a secret, but that isn't Nana's way. She'd want to know you enjoyed it too.
NOTE: This is Nana's typed out recipe. All of the notes and verbiage are hers. I didn't change a thing. I think using the recipe the way she thought of it and in her sweet words makes it better.
Nana's White Fruit Cake
Ingredients 3/4 lb butter (3 sticks) 2 cups sugar 6 egg whites 1/2 cup whiskey 4 cups plain flour (sifted) - does not need sifting these days as flour is very fine and soft. 2 tsp baking powder 1 lb pecans 1 lb candied cherries (red and green mix) 1 lb candied pineapple
Directions Day before you bake I cut my pineapple and cherries in halves. I think this makes slicing easier and prettier. Then chop pecans. Can use scissors to cut in half.
You will need mixer, one glass bowl to beat egg whites and a big bowl to put pecans and fruit in. You will save a little flour to pour over fruit and pecans so they will not go to bottom of pan when cooking, this is called dredging with flour. About 1/4 cup.
1. Mix first 6 ingredients in order one at a time and cream each time. 2. Pour little (about 1/4 cup) flour over the fruit and pecans and stir. I use my hands. 3. Beat egg whites until stiff. 4. Pour batter over the fruit and pecans and use hands to mix then pour egg whites in and fold into this using hands.
All done, ready to pour into loaf pans and bake.
Grease pans and flour sides and bottom, but shake to get all flour out. Then I cut from a brown bag the size of bottom of pan and place in bottom to keep from sticking. (JLG NOTE: I think parchment paper would work, but I'll always use a brown paper sack.)
Start in cold oven. Bake about 2 hours or 2 1/4 hours. I just look and feel to see if brown and if cake feels solid.
Let set about 15 minutes, then run knife around sides and turn out on board or wax paper. I let cool then dredge with whiskey (about 1/4 cup) then wrap air tight. Can open in a couple of weeks and can pour little more liquor if needed.
All ready for Christmas. I just leave in pantry in a plastic sack. Cake is first wrapped in wax paper or Saran wrap real tight.
You may have heard that today is my birthday. It's true. I'm 25. Wait, that part might not be true.
Over the years, I'm had some pretty extraordinary birthdays.
Because my birthday is in mid-June, it always fell right after school let out for the summer. Many years, we would hop on a plane on June 15th and I'd wake up at Nana's house on my birthday. I'd come downstairs for a special birthday breakfast with the whole family and then usually off to the beach. I grew up believing the only way to celebrate my birthday was to go on vacation.
My 18th birthday arrived just days after my high school graduation. Nana was in town for the big occasion and I got three of my girlfriends together and we all went into Chicago for lunch and a Wendella boat ride. It was freezing cold (even colder than it was today), overcast and windy and although we were dressed warmly, the wind still made it uncomfortable. Nana asked the Wendella folks if they had any big plastic garbage bags that we could use as rain/wind slickers. It was actually a great idea!
Janet, Cheryl, Me, and Cindy (l-r) on the Wendella Boats using plastic garbage bags to block the wind. Yes, I gave Sally Jessy Rapheal her glasses back.
I celebrated my 20th birthday at Watervale and because this is supposedly a family blog, I can't describe the debauchery that ensued. Let's just say that it didn't hurt things at all that the Bulls had just won their first NBA Championship.
In 1992, I turned 21 with the help of my good friends Heather and Emilie, and Michael, Scottie, and the rest of the Chicago Bulls. Heather and I spent the day in Chicago at the Bulls Championship Rally in Grant Park and then window shopping on the Mag Mile. After taking the train back to Lake Forest, I drank at The Lantern for the first time. That was also the year Dave surprised me with the sterling silver pendant he made of the two of us. An incredible day.
1993 found me in Washington DC without my friends or family. I spent the day wandering around Georgetown and then watched the Bulls win Game 4 of the NBA Finals over the Phoenix Suns on a date. Of course, the Bulls went on to win their third NBA Championship days later.
I turned 27 in 1998 and was in Chicago for the Bulls 6th and final NBA Championship. The night before my birthday, Christopher and I were in the stands at Wrigley Field watching Kerry Wood pitch a nailbiter and Sammy Sosa start his home run streak by hitting 3 that night as they beat the Milwaukee Brewers 6-5. On my birthday, I celebrated with a few hundred thousand of my closest friends in Grant Park as we celebrated the Bulls and witnessed the end of an era. When I arrived back in DC on the 17th, I was surprised by my friends at a party at the rooftop bar at the Hotel Washington.
When I turned 30, Dave surprised me by flying to Chicago for the weekend. My dad also came to town and when I got up that morning, my lawn was filled with 30 plastic pink flamingos! I'm sorry I don't have pictures.
And then there was today. Today was fabulous. Words can't express my gratitude for all the joy and love I felt today. I got to talk to Nana, which was the highlight of my day. I heard from friends all over the country and friends in my neighborhood. God, I love the birthday reminder on Facebook! Emails even poured in tonight from my mom's childhood friends! Local friends surprised me with many delights. And my dad started his new job today.
I have had some amazing birthdays throughout the years, but today was the best. My gratitude list is long and I'm putting my head on my pillow tonight secure in the knowledge of who I love and who loves me. Words can't begin to express how full my heart is tonight.
Growing up, I was a voracious reader. Thanks to my mom and dad, I always had a book in my hands. They read to me every night and usually more than 1 or 2 stories because I was notorious for managing to get many stories out of them. They read to me so much that one night when I was 2 they heard me in my room reading Twas the Night Before Christmas aloud. When they walked in, I was not only reading the book, but I was turning the pages in all the correct places. My mom, a reading teacher, was convinced I head learned to read at this precocious age, until a few minutes later when they realized I'd simply memorized the story because they had read it to me so often.
To this day, there remain some books that have stayed with me. Books that I return to time and again, even as an adult. They shaped me. I wanted to be the heroines in these books and believe they were some of the first feminists I knew.
This all came back to me today thanks to Gourmet Goddess who happened to mention on Facebook this morning that she's re-reading the Little House on the Prairie series. This turned into a discussion about the pro-girl books a bunch of us grew up loving. I suggested we have a summer book club and re-read them and discuss how they shaped us, the gender roles they were subject to, their feminist principles, their relevance to today's girls, and how we'd address some of these books with our daughters, if we had them. And a summer book club was born.
All day long I've been trying to figure out how to properly acknowledge today, the day my house burned down in 1982. I'm not going to retell the whole story, but you can read here. A few minutes ago, I was reminded about the only cool part of the entire ordeal:
I got to be a 10 year old diva at the Arlington Park Hilton for the better part of about 5 months.
Eloise you'll recall is a 6 year old fictional girl who lives at The Plaza Hotel in New York City. Eloise is quite precocious and finds herself in the midst of all sorts of adventures (read: trouble), just as I did.
Live at the Hilton was quite good. We had a suite of rooms - two bedrooms with a huge sitting room in the middle. The sitting room, which was more like a super-sized den, complete with wet bar and gigantic bathroom containing a tub with the cool jets. I wouldn't call it a hot tub or whirlpool, but it was cool. Someone made my bed everyday and left clean towels and fun little shampoos and soaps.
As Dave and I got ready for school each day, I would call the hotel restaurant, The Apple Farm, and order lunches that would be ready when we arrived for breakfast. On more than a few occasions, breakfast consisted of orange sherbet and a handful of apple-flavored Jolly Ranchers from the candy dish on the way out of the restaurant. Then we were whisked off to school via cab.
At night we'd run all around the hotel and swim in the pool and never got in any trouble because everyone knew us.
I had slumber parties with my girlfriends and remember one especially fun weekend sitting at the entrance of the Cinderella Rockafella (a nightclub type place attached to the Arlington Park Hilton) watching all the couples arrive for the Arlington High School Prom. We thought they were so sophisticated and beautiful and wanted to grow up to be that cool at our prom.
Yes, life at the Hilton was good and I wanted for nothing. As good as it was, however, I was never so happy as I was the day we finally moved back into our rebuilt house.
Tomorrow (April 11) would be my parents' 39th wedding anniversary, but they got divorced when I was 12. Although most of my childhood memories of my parents are of them individually, I do have quite a few memories of us as a complete family. The following story is one of those memories and I thought it appropriate to share it today. So happy would-be anniversary Mom & Dad. And thanks for always being able to talk to Dave and me about anything at any time.
"Dad, can I have herpes?" an 8-year old Dave asked one night during dessert.
"No, you can't," was my dad's immediate and firm response.
From across the kitchen, my mom pipes up, "I hate to correct you, especially in front of the kids, John, but I think it's important to answer their questions about sex openly and honestly. If they're asking questions, we should have the courage to answer them, even if it's a bit uncomfortable for us."
With that, Mom walked back over to the table, and dove right into a lecture about Herpes Simplex 1 and 2. Dad looked horrified.
"First of all," she began, ignoring the dismayed look on Dad's face, "there are two kinds of Herpes. Herpes Simplex 1 are little sores you can get in your mouth or on your lips. Sometimes these are called canker sores or fever blisters. Just about everyone gets them at some point in their life, even you."
My dad starts to interrupt her, but she's on a roll. "Herpes Simplex 2 is the same kind of little sores, but they are on your private parts."
Dad, Dave and I are now looking at her as if she's got 2 heads, but she continues. "So, while I hope you never get the second kind of Herpes, the answer to your question is that yes, you can get Herpes."
At this point, my dad who would not ever discuss sex with us, was bright red and probably wished he was not still sitting at the table. None of us could contain ourselves and exploded in laughter.
Finally, Dave regains his composure and says "Mom, I just wanted to know if I could have her piece of cake since Jessica didn't want dessert! But I don't want it anymore."
Growing up, I wasn't the most popular girl in school. In fact, I was far from it. I developed much earlier than everyone else and some girls were just nasty spreading all kinds of rumors about me - because certainly having large breasts in 5th grade of course meant I was doing all kinds of things with boys that I most definitely wasn't doing (and mostly didn't know anything about!). Sure, the boys paid a lot of attention to me, but they were just curious and I didn't pay any attention to them. The girls, however, were vicious. I was teased and taunted everyday at least all the way through junior high. The rumors that made their way back to me were horrible and entirely untrue.
At the time, I would come home from school crying most days and not wanting to return. What I couldn't understand was why they were so mean to me. Just like the girls from the movie Mean Girls. Almost 28 years later, I understand that they were mostly jealous and the only way they could deal with it was to make fun of me. What I also know now, as an adult, is that many people, both men and women, have to tear others down in order to build themselves up. Their egos are so fragile that they must feel they are superior and the only way to do that is to make everyone else inferior.
About 5 years ago, I dated a guy who was a constant jokester. Sometimes he was witty, but mostly his jokes were mean in nature and belittling. And I was often the butt of them. I had asked him repeatedly not to make such biting comments about me (and others) because they simply weren't funny and they really hurt my feelings. I remember one day we were making plans to go out that night via instant messenger. In the course of the IM, he said something to me that was rude and completely condescending. When I called him out on it, he said he was joking, but I'd had enough. I wrote that I couldn't date him anymore because I was tired of him thinking it was okay to tear me down in order to feel better about himself. He told me my skin simply wasn't thick enough, but I didn't see it that way. For me, it was about respect, both my own self-respect and his respect of me. I was done and I've never looked back. I've also never let anyone speak to me that way again.
Yesterday, I was having a conversation with a friend who has recently become the target of some "mean girl" behavior. I know my friend to be one of the most integrity filled women I know and the lies that have been spread by people who don't even know her are vile. I reminded my friend that the person spreading rumors is really telling the world "I think I'm worthless and the only way I know to feel better is to attempt to tear an innocent woman apart."
It makes me sad to see adults acting the way 12-year old girls act. 12-year olds act that way because they don't know any better, but there's simply no excuse for it as an adult. The fact is that "mean girl" behavior says more about perpetrator than the victim. At some point, I always thought "mean girl" behavior would just go away because we'd all grow up and grow out of it. Unfortunately, it's probably been my biggest shock about being an adult - some of the "mean girls" never grow up.
Luckily for me, I know who I am and I'm comfortable in my own skin. I'm proud of my accomplishments and I'm even proud of most of my failings. I know who I love and who loves me. My feeling is that if someone needs to build themselves up by tearing me down, go right ahead. It doesn't really bother me one bit and it says far more about them than it ever will about me anyway. But I choose not to tolerate "mean girl" behavior by ignoring it and surrounding myself with people who are secure enough in their own right to celebrate the successes of others around them without feeling threatened.
This has always been one of my favorite poems going back longer than I can remember. In fact, my parents like to tell the story about how I used to make them read this to me over and over and over again every night, even when it wasn't Christmas. I loved books long before I could read. One night, when I was about 2, my parents heard me in my room talking to myself. When they walked in, they discovered I was sitting on my bed with my Twas the Night Before Christmas book, reading aloud, and turning the pages appropriately. They were convinced I was an uber-genius and had learned to read at the precocious age of 2, until they realized that they'd read me the poem so many times I had memorized it!
Without further ado . . .
Twas the Night Before Christmas (also called "A Visit from St. Nicholas) by Clement Clarke Moore
Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse. The stockings were hung by the chimney with care, In hopes that St Nicholas soon would be there.
The children were nestled all snug in their beds, While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads. And mamma in her ‘kerchief, and I in my cap, Had just settled our brains for a long winter’s nap.
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter, I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter. Away to the window I flew like a flash, Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below. When, what to my wondering eyes should appear, But a miniature sleigh, and eight tinny reindeer.
With a little old driver, so lively and quick, I knew in a moment it must be St Nick. More rapid than eagles his coursers they came, And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name!
"Now Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer and Vixen! On, Comet! On, Cupid! on, on Donner and Blitzen! To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall! Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!"
As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly, When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky. So up to the house-top the coursers they flew, With the sleigh full of Toys, and St Nicholas too.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof The prancing and pawing of each little hoof. As I drew in my head, and was turning around, Down the chimney St Nicholas came with a bound.
He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot, And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot. A bundle of Toys he had flung on his back, And he looked like a peddler, just opening his pack.
His eyes-how they twinkled! his dimples how merry! His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry! His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow, And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow.
The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth, And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath. He had a broad face and a little round belly, That shook when he laughed, like a bowlful of jelly!
He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf, And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself! A wink of his eye and a twist of his head, Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work, And filled all the stockings, then turned with a jerk. And laying his finger aside of his nose, And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose!
He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle, And away they all flew like the down of a thistle. But I heard him exclaim, ‘ere he drove out of sight, "Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night!"
That gift was the card game Uno. Just a simple deck of cards. Well, special cards. Uno can't be played with a regular deck. Back then, I bet a deck of Uno cards couldn't have cost more than $1. 26 years later, it only costs $3.99.
As a family, my mom, Dave, and I spent countless evenings sitting around the kitchen table playing Uno and talking. My mom reminded me that although we'd always come home from school and reply to the question of "what did you learn today" with "nothing," when we were playing Uno, Dave and I both opened up and that's how she always learned what was going on with us.
Uno isn't a complicated or fancy game. In fact, it's unbelievably simple. Maybe that was the beauty of it. Whatever it was, it brought our family many nights of fun together and kept our us together during some truly difficult and painful times.
All these years later, whenever I donate to the local Giving Tree at Christmas, I always pick up an Uno game. I hope it brings other families as much joy as it brought mine.
Donating to food pantries isn't just something I write about like a broken record. It's actually personal to me.
Shortly after my parents divorced when I was 12, my mom was unemployed and studying to pass the real estate test and earn her real estate license. We had no money. Child support payments from my dad were sporadic and there was no alimony. Truly, we had no money. Rather than ask my grandmother for money, my mom applied for food stamps and signed my brother and me up for the free lunch program at school. I remember I was mortified. I was terrified my friends would find out and no longer be my friends. In junior high, image was everything. I even had to work as a runner on picture day at school that year in order to get free school pictures.
My most vivid memory of that year, however, was going to the food pantry with my mom to pick up donated food so that we'd have a Thanksgiving dinner. I didn't want to go, but my mom made me. And almost 25 years later, I'm still grateful she did.
A few weeks later, we went back to pick up donated food and gifts for Christmas.
My brother and I were two of the kids on the giving tree that year. I was in 8th grade, but whomever got my name must have misunderstood because I received underwear for an 8 year old as my donated Christmas present. The look on my mom's face on that Christmas morning as I opened my present meant for a little girl, not a teenager, was one of the saddest looks I've ever seen. I could tell she felt broken, but she tried to hide it. No parent wants to feel like they've failed their children and I know that's how she felt.
Although I was momentarily disappointed at having received essentially nothing for Christmas that year, I learned the value of compassion and helping others. It was more important that someone had generously given than what they gave. And I knew that it was more important that we still had a home, had food on the table, and were together than whether I received any presents.
We only spent a year or so on food stamps and I only remember that one holiday season receiving donated food and gifts (although there may have been another year), but the memories of that year depending on the kindness of strangers will never leave me. I know it's made me more compassionate and less judgemental of those on hard times. And each year, no matter what, I always donate to my local food pantry and giving tree.
So please please give to your local food pantry, even though you may be struggling. The smallest donation will make a huge difference. You may never know the lives you will touch, but I assure you that your act of kindness will change the life of someone. It changed mine.
I can't wait to crack open the spine. Inhale that new book smell. Hear the pages turn. I just know it will be everything I've been anticipating for the last 2 years.
Why am I so excited you ask? Well, you see, this isn't just any book. And as I've mentioned before, Brad Meltzer isn't just any writer. He's my friend. I've known him for about 10 years and was at his first book launch party for The Tenth Justice at The Mansion on O Street during the summer of 1997. What a crazy and fun party. I'm still not sure how I finagled that invitation, but I'm sure glad I did.
I've been keeping a BIG secret about this book.
In January 2007, while working on the character development for The Book of Lies, Brad sent out the following, which he also posted on his blog:
What one word describes your relationship with you parents? When has your mom or dad let you down? Describe an incident where your mom or dad broke your heart. Describe an incident where your mom or dad made you feel strong. Extra credit: Best or worst memory of mom or dad.
As always, feel free to reply and post here, or send them directly to me at [Brad's email]. Yes, this may show up in a book (so goodbye to your rights), but of course, no names will be named. We're not that crazy. :)
Thanks for playing and sharing. It means more than you realize.
Love, B
I'll be honest, I looked at the email (which he sent to a ton of people) and wanted to respond because Brad's my friend and who doesn't like to help their friends, but I had a great deal of trepidation because the truthful answers to some of the questions were things I rarely, if ever, spoke about. And I just wasn't sure I could.
My memory is that I sat on the email for a day or so before finally responding, but I didn't think it would go anywhere, so I responded. Imagine my surprise when a day or so later, I received an email from Brad asking if we could talk in further detail about what I'd shared. I think I threw up a little in my throat imagining talking about things I just didn't talk about (and, no, I'm not going to share them here either), but told him to call me. And we had a great conversation and he made it easy for me to share some really difficult and painful parts of my life.
In the last 18 months, Brad has shared bits and pieces of the plot, but I really haven't known what part, if any, of what I shared, made it into The Book of Lies. And I haven't thought about it too much.
And then last week, I read the prologue and first chapter on Brad's website and I was floored. I'm in the book! And there's a rumor (from Brad, himself) that I'm in the Acknowledgements too! I haven't seen that for myself yet, so for now, I'm just calling it a rumor.
So go buy the book and enjoy it. I promise you will.
And go see Brad at one of his book signings. He'll sign anything. His comics, books, anything. Just do it. Oh, and tell him I sent you. He'll love it. And then you'll know just what an amazing guy he is too.
Author Gets Slammed by Grandmother, the Press, the World
Save the Superman House
From an email last night from Brad:
So, as you may know, The Book of Lies goes on sale today and in honor of that, we're officially unveiling OrdinaryPeopleChangeTheWorld.com. This is my core belief. This is what I stand for. And this is what every project I've ever worked on has been about: To remind us that there is greatness inside all of us.
We are all ordinary. We are all boring. We are all spectacular. We are all shy. We are all bold. We are all heroes. We are all helpless. It just depends on the day.
The fact that you're reading this means (I hope) that you believe this too. So I put my dream in your hands. I put my book in your hands. And I appreciate anything you can do to share the above videos with the people you love and know. Some of you love Superman and will focus on the last one. Some love the novels, so you prefer the little kids and my grandmother. Some of you will love all three (hi, Dad!).
In this tough publishing world, where sales of ALL books are down in double digits, it does really matter if you can share these on the places you go (email, blog, myspace, facebook, message boards, etc).
And now it's midnight, which means we can let all of these loose on the world. Take a few minutes...share it with those you love. Then make an enemies list and share it with your foes. Wherever you put it is appreciated.
And for those who want even more details on Saving the Siegel House and the auction, please see below.
I'm headed off on tour, but please do come say hey so I can thank you personally. I know this sounds so pretentious, but I truly think we can change how books are sold. As I've said to many of you before, I know every author has family and friends, but they don't have our family and friends. Thank you for always being there. Always.
Much love,
Brad
ADDITIONAL SIEGEL HOUSE INFO
As you can tell from the video, the goal of The Siegel & Shuster Society is to save the house where Superman was created. It would be ideal to post something in your own words, but you can post this FAQ as-is if you would like. Your choice.
The most important thing to do is to mention and link to the auction, encourage people to buy a shirt, and post the video (see below for link) on all the places you frequent. The video shows the state of the house and tells people about the auction starting today. As you'll see from the list of people involved, this isn't about DC or Marvel. This isn't about competition. It's about the comic community as a whole, pulling together for a place that launched so many of our best dreams.
I just hope you know how much I and everyone working on this project appreciate you being involved with it. And while we know it's just a house, it matters.
Attached are also two signatures for people to download or see on your sig. Feel free to share them. Below, is the full FAQ. And of course, lemme know if you have any questions.
FAQ (feel free to edit as you need)
What's this all about again? Today is the official launch of The Siegel & Shuster Society, with a celebrity charity auction that'll raise money to preserve the home of Jerry Siegel, creator of Superman. When you go to Brad Meltzer's charitable website OrdinaryPeopleChangeTheWorld.com, you can: - bid online for original Superman and comic book art and items by top writers and artists - buy a Siegel & Shuster Society t-shirt (designed by the legendary graphic designer Chip Kidd) - or just donate to the good cause. The best way to show it is here: Save The Superman House. All proceeds of the auction go to the restoration of the Siegel house.
Who's involved in the auction? This is a coming together of an entire community. The full list includes: Stephen Colbert, Jim Lee, Brian Michael Bendis, Brad Meltzer, Geoff Johns, Richard Donner, Joe Quesada, Neil Gaiman, Alex Ross, Dave Gibbons, Jeph Loeb, Murphy Anderson, Ed Brubaker, John Cassaday, Gene Ha, Greg Rucka, George Perez, Michael Turner, Adam Kubert, Andy Kubert, Judd Winick, Frank Cho, Eric Powell, Tim Sale, Walt Simonson, Joe Staton, Eric Wight, Dave Mandel, Mike Mignola, Rags Morales, Bill Morrison, Ivan Reis, John Romita Jr., Jason Palmer, Amanda Conner, Geoff Darrow, Ron Garney, Renato Guedes, Heroes, Dave Johnson, Chris Bachalo, Mike Bair, Allen Bellman, Dan Brereton, Ernie Chan, Travis Charest, and Ian Churchill, YOU, and even Jerry Siegel (see below).
How did this come about? While researching his new novel, The Book of Lies, Brad Meltzer visited the boyhood home of Jerry Siegel in Cleveland, Ohio, where Superman was created. As Meltzer says, "The house where Google was founded is preserved. The garage where Hewlett Packard was founded is protected. But the house where Superman was born? I was in shock." After contacting dozens of comic book creators -- and thanks to the hard work of many in the city of Cleveland -- The Siegel & Shuster Society was created and is dedicated to commemorating and celebrating the creation of Superman in Cleveland by Jerry Siegel and Joe Shuster. "I think sometimes people take things like this for granted because it started in cartoon form, but this is a house were modern mythology was created," Brain Michael Bendis adds. "Mythology that will never die away or disappear. There is no difference, to me, between this house and Mark Twain's house. We have to honor and exalt such creation."
What are the items in the auction? You can win a walk-on part on Heroes, VIP seats to the Colbert Report, original Superman art (go see the art!), have your name in Bendis or Brubaker or Rucka's comic, or Meltzer's next novel. There's a rare original pre-Superman movie script from Geoff Johns, signed by Richard Donner. And Joanne Siegel told Meltzer that before Jerry Siegel died, he signed six Superman t-shirts that no one ever knew existed -- and then told her that if their family ever needed money, she should sell the shirts. Instead, she donated one of them to be auctioned off here. The signature is on a Superman: Quest For Peace(!) t-shirt. C'mon, baby, it's Jerry Siegel on a Quest for Peace shirt!
What can you do? Forward and digg the video. Go buy a Siegel & Shuster Society t-shirt. They're cool. They're designed by Chip Kidd. They can't be bought anywhere else. Bid on some of the auctions and spread the word by sharing the video, sigs, and OrdinaryPeopleChangeTheWorld.com auction with your facebook, myspace, and live-breathing friends.
How much is the Siegel And Shuster Foundation trying to raise? Depends on how successful we are. Phase 1 involves working on the exterior of the house: securing the roof, making sure the paint isn't rotting, doing the concrete work. That will hopefully protect the place from the outside. Joe Shuster's house (a few blocks away) was in such disrepair, it was torn down. The first goal is to collect $50,000 to deal with the outside. If we do that, then we'll go and tackle the much-needed-repairs on the inside.
Who lives there now? The house is located in one of the tougher neighborhoods of Cleveland and is currently occupied by an African-American couple who have lived there for approximately 20 years, who have put up with all of us who have come visiting, but who don't have the money to do these repairs. Rather than kick anyone out on the street, the goal is to repair this place for them. Why? It's the right thing to do. In return, The Siegel & Shuster Society has the right to buy the house when it eventually goes up for sale.
Is there a long-term goal to make a museum? The long-term goal is still being decided, and that's why you're invited to join The Siegel & Shuster Society and help us with those plans. Meetings are held monthly in Cleveland -- when you buy a shirt, they'll have your name. But one of the dreams is that one day, buses full of students will drive from all over Ohio, from Michigan, from any nearby state, and come to the fully-restored house -- covered and decorated with children's artwork inside -- and see where one of the world's greatest dreams was born. Go to OrdinaryPeopleChangeTheWorld.com to make it happen.
Yes, I know that Fred Rogers died 5 years ago, but that's not what I'm in mourning over today.
Effective today, Mr. Rogers Neighborhood has been taken off the schedule of many stations, including in Chicago, LA, and New York.
You may remember that I am a huge fan of Mr. Rogers. Growing up, I was not allowed to watch much television, but Mr. Rogers was on the very short list of approved TV. And I watched him daily. I can even admit that when I was laid up with mono in 2000 (when I was 28), I sometimes watched him.
My sadness that future generations of kids will grow up in a Mr. Rogers-less world is almost beyond words. Mr. Rogers was never condescending. He took on the tough subjects, talking to kids about divorce and war, and he even came out of retirement for a special segment addressing the anniversary of 9/11.
By Steve Schmadeke Chicago Tribune reporter September 1, 2008
Seven years have passed since new episodes of "Mister Rogers' Neighborhood" were taped and five since the show's iconic, sweater-clad host died.
But news that, starting Monday, "Mister Rogers" will disappear from the schedules of many PBS stations—including WTTW-Ch. 11 in Chicago, as well as stations in Los Angeles and apparently New York—has legions of parents and other fans lamenting what they see as a timeless show's end.
They are wondering, as Mr. Rogers himself might say: What do you do with the mad that you feel?"It sucks, man," said Brian Linder, a South Carolina writer who grew up watching the show on a wood-paneled television and now watches it on a flat-screen TV with his twin daughters. "That's not a Mr. Rogers thing to say. But maybe in this case he'd even say it."
Linder has launched a Web site, savemisterrogers.com, and a Facebook group that has about 4,000 members. Among the letters Linder has posted is one from Oak Park-based artist Chris Ware, a well-known illustrator whose work has appeared on New Yorker covers.
Ware wants his daughter Clara, 3, to be able to watch the show because, while it may seem peculiar to adults, it was a carefully calibrated work of art that taught children about real life, he said.
"The show is fundamentally about clumsy, awkward, uncomfortable real life, and it's one of the last places on television where children can see it honestly reflected (regardless of the 1980s clothing and 1970s cars, which young kids don't notice, anyway)," he wrote. "With very little camera editing on the program, it also 'feels' more real."
PBS said its decision is a reaction to the show's declining ratings and the desire of many local stations, which set their own schedules, for new programming. Episodes eventually may be available online, PBS said.
About 60 percent of PBS' 355 member stations carry "Mister Rogers." After Monday, that will shrink to a handful showing it daily, estimated an executive at Family Communications, a non-profit launched by Fred Rogers that produced and still owns the show.
The change means it's no longer feasible for PBS to keep "Mister Rogers" on the air, said Dan Soles, senior vice president of television content at WTTW. It showed "Mister Rogers" at 6 a.m. as part of 12 hours of children's programming a day.
"We respect the fact that many viewers are passionate and loyal to the show," Soles said. "I grew up watching 'Mister Rogers,' so I can understand their feelings. It's admirable. The spirit of Mister Rogers is going to continue. There are plans to really ramp up and build up the Mister Rogers Web site."
Soles and a PBS spokeswoman said talks are ongoing with Family Communications about a new series, but an executive there said nothing has happened yet. And there's a "strong possibility" that "Mister Rogers" might be carried by one of the PBS-partnered digital channels, Soles said.
While some fans interviewed seemed resigned to the fact that they may have seen Mr. Rogers zip up his cardigan for the last time on local TV Friday, they are heartened by at least one possible success: A PBS station in Milwaukee apparently changed course and decided to keep the show on the air. Calls for comment to MPTV were not returned.
Kevin Morrison, Family Communications' chief operating officer, said the show had a remarkable run, especially considering there were no new episodes for seven years.
"You just have to recognize inevitably the fact that this is an old program and appeals less and less to the market," Morrison said.
Danny LaBrecque, programs coordinator for the Field Museum's Crown Family PlayLab, said that while he admires some of the new children's programming on PBS, it focuses almost exclusively on cognitive development and not as much on children's social and emotional growth. He has written WTTW in hopes of keeping "Mister Rogers" on the air.
"Young children really need that face time with a real human being," LaBrecque said. "That's what's really great about Mister Rogers. He was talking about getting a haircut and separation anxiety. In our city, there's certainly a lot of kids who don't get those really personal conversations. The fact that that's not going to be there is pretty sad."
Fans respect that Fred Rogers didn't sell out.
"You've never seen Mr. Rogers' face on a diaper," Linder said. But that also means that only a handful of episodes are available on DVD, and just a few clips—like an episode where Mr. Rogers learns about break dancing—are on YouTube. Morrison said DVD demand has never been very strong, but the company may release episodes in smaller production numbers on a private label.
One actor, David Newell, who played the Speedy Delivery carrier Mr. McFeely, said he's touched that people still want to see a show that celebrates its 40th anniversary this year.
"It's a wonderful tribute to the program," said Newell, who promotes the show for Family Communications, sometimes in character at events. "So many people who grew up with the show . . . have warm feelings about it and it's really meant something to them. It was more than just an average television program."
When I was a kid and we used to visit Nana and Reverand (he was a minister, her second husband, NOT my grandfather, and that's what everyone called him) in Crystal Beach, FL, every night after dinner, we'd have dessert. Dessert was a huge treat because we didn't usually have it at our house.
The dessert I remember most vividly at Nana's was vanilla ice cream with fresh peaches. Simple and sweet. Not overwhelming. Just right.
On my way home from Watervale, on Rte. 22, just south of Onekema, there's a great fruit and vegetable stand I always stop at. They have locally grown fruits and vegetables that I simply love. This weekend, they had peaches, so I grabbed a bunch knowing I'd have to get some vanilla ice cream.
I savored dessert last night wishing I was sharing the fresh peaches and ice cream with Nana.
The truth is that every kid in the Chicagoland Area got his or her first singing lessons from Elmer Lynn Hauldren, better known as The Empire Man.
The most beautiful birthday flowers in the world.
Janet, Cheryl, Me, and Cindy (l-r) on the Wendella Boats using plastic garbage bags to block the wind. 
