American Idealist(s)

So I just finished watching American Idealist, this excellent documentary on Robert Sargent Shriver, whom you may or may not know as an in-law of JFK and the main shepherd of the Peace Corps and a whole host of Great Society programs (JobCorps, VISTA, HeadStart, Upward Bound, Community Action, the list goes on). Good old public television.

Though I admire people's willingness to volunteer in unfamiliar places, I've never been the biggest fan of the Peace Corps, mostly because I think there's plenty to do in this country (if you're looking for a task...). After seeing the documentary, however, I can see another angle of it. Though the Corps was certainly as much a play for power in the Cold War as anything else, it put a phenomenal amount of trust in young people. Really, all of Shriver's programs put trust in previously underrepresented constituencies (young people, black people, poor people, slum-dwellers) in an effort to empower the average American citizen and end poverty once and for all. Most of these programs were all but killed by the diverting of funds to Vietnam, but Shriver's legacy is still an interesting one. I'm not sure there's been that kind of hope or that kind of shift in power since.

Which brings me nicely to the Kennedy family. In 1968, Shriver was very close to being chosen as the running mate for Hubert Humphrey. Incredibly, his candidacy was basically derailed by the Kennedy family (his in-laws, remember) because, just a few months after Bobby was shot and killed, the Kennedys worried that Shriver could hamper Ted's chances at the presidency in 1972.

This is all well-timed, since an editorial in support of Barack Obama appeared in the New York Times this week by none other than Caroline Kennedy. Now, Caroline seems like a nice woman, and we're all certainly sorry about the tragedies that seem to befall the men in her family, but with all due respect, who the hell cares what she thinks about who should be president? Her only experience in politics beyond being a Kennedy figurehead was interning with her Uncle Teddy. I think she's smart and all, but how is her opinion any different than what everyone else thinks? Talk about a succession. And though I do see the irony of perhaps Shriver's best political move being his marriage, this kind of old guard glad-handing is something I can only hope Shriver would not want.

*For the record, Bobby's kids (her cousins) have come out in support of Hillary Clinton. And again, who cares?

Roots

I have a friend who recently moved to Denver. And loves it. Which, from what I hear from people who have been there, isn't surprising. And she thinks I would love it as well. I'm not so sure about that (I don't ski. Who ever heard of someone living in Colorado who doesn't ski or camp?), but I've heard enough similar sentiment lately to get me thinking.

I've always liked Seattle and I certainly wouldn't turn down the sun in Las Vegas, and then there's this whole Colorado thing and for the first time since junior year of college, I'm honestly considering the possibility that I could live somewhere else. I wouldn't say I'm unhappy here by any means, but in some ways it isn't quite what I had in mind either.

While this will always be home in some sense, my family isn't here anymore. I have a crapload of acquaintances and a few real friends that I love, but there are still times when I feel that in the majority of my relationships, I'm the one doing the work. I'm working on staying in touch and making plans and remembering birthdays and siblings and...food dislikes. Which is probably unfair, but that's how I feel. I realize that people aren't necessarily here to be my family, but I'm that kind of friend when I choose to be, so I don't know why I shouldn't expect it from other people.

Actually, sometimes I wonder if this is related to most people's lack of general togetherness. I think I like to have very close friends and family because my own thoughts and experiences aren't really enough to occupy me 24-7. Despite being perfectly happy spending time alone, other people genuinely do interest me. I enjoy trying to figure out what their families are like or what they think of federal holidays no longer being observed (or whatever. this just comes to mind today). But for a lot of people I know, it seem to be all they can do to keep their basic day-to-day from falling apart. And I guess I see, then, why they seem to prefer acquaintances. And that's not a judgment, really. But boy, are they bad choices for me.

Back to the point, there have been three job searches with varying and ultimately disappointing results, a host of mildly fun sports teams, and way too many nights where everyone around me is drunk. And with my only other experience being in a rural college town, it's hard for me to decide whether any of these things would be different in another city. But I guess what it all boils down to is that the next time I look for a job (likely late this year), I will look in other places. And maybe there's a time limit on this whole Chicago thing. Or at least a time to actively make a decision about it. Like 2010, which sounds like a time sufficiently in the future (despite the complaining, I know it would be tough to leave). I was surprised to find myself thinking that in the car the other day.

Christmas in...January

My company is going to move into the new Block 37 location sometime this year and someone in HR decided it would be a good bonding experience for the company to maintain a blog with all sorts of information about the new location. And I'm basically a writer who spends most of the day cleaning up hedge fund data points, so I volunteered. Thought you kids could read it.

And bonus fact, since this is sort of a cop-out blog post: this year, the Smurfs turn....50!!

If youth is wasted on the young, Christmas is wasted on the old(er). Pretty much the second you hit junior high, you discover the truth about Rudolph, your gift requests suddenly go from five dollar action figures and make believe paraphernalia to electronics, and then one day your dad tells you that if you want to leave cookies out for Santa, you’re going to have to eat them as well because you kids go to bed too late now and he’s sick of getting up in the middle of the night and walking all the way downstairs for a few bites of cookie. Or something like that…

Though credit cards and the ability to use the oven without adult supervision do add somewhat to the season, there’s nothing quite like the chance to experience it through the eyes of a child. Don’t have a little rugrat waiting for you at home? The next best thing is the Christkindlmarket, a German Christmas festival that runs from the day after Thanksgiving through Christmas Eve at the Daley Center Plaza.

Whether you wait for a one of the warmer days or simply decide to bundle up and risk it, your eye will first be drawn to the four story tree on the South side of the plaza. The ornaments are similarly oversized and the effect, though slightly like Honey I Shrunk the Kids, will make you feel that child’s sense of wonder, even as your eyes search the crowd for Rick Moranis. If you brought the rugrats with you, give ‘em a good look at the elaborate model train in the shadow of the giant tree.

After you finish discussing how that tree could possibly show up every year without witnesses to its setup (elves, perhaps?), take a look around at the booths set up mostly by Germans living right here in the city of Chicago. Now, the Germans aren’t a fantastically religious people in general, but they know Christmas and they could make even the Grinch feel like having some egg nog. You’ll see everything from cozy cashmere scarves (nicely priced if you’re looking for something to get your sister) to elaborate one-foot-tall lighted houses (I guess they’re decorations? I was never too big into transforming my living space by season, but if you are, you’ve found your home planet!) to hand crafted beer steins perfect for the more refined fraternity man on your list.

All that scrutinizing tchotchkes in near freezing temperatures will likely leave you with a noticeable emptiness in your stomach, so take a moment to survey the food offerings. It won’t take you long to notice that they’re German to the core, with potato pancakes, bratwurst, sauerkraut, and even leberkaese, that strangle amalgamation of pork loaf and beef loaf. Like many German foods, it doesn’t exactly whet the American appetite, but ends up tasting pretty darn good. You can warm your belly with some hot chocolate, cool it again with some authentic German beer, then warm it up a final time before making your way home with some hot mulled wine. This year, the wine came in a commemorative boot. Is there a better commemorative item? I think not.

Despite the prior existence of Mayfest and Oktoberfest (held in September, don’t forget!), I had been thinking that another German cultural festival was exactly what this city needed. As it turns out, one can be found in the heart of loop a stone’s throw from the Block 37 location. And for Christmas spirit, it can’t be beat.

Hee Hee, Doody

Whoa, long break. Sorry about that. Traveling, work, general winter laziness, etc. Happy New Year!

So, we've decided to have a player-run league for baseball, which I think is fantastic. I was about at the end of my rope for being treated like a child (by someone you may remember), and I think this presents us with a much better chance to build a sustainable organization.

But it does create more work in some areas. And it absolutely shocks me how little loyalty some people have for a cause. Everyone seems proud of themselves for engineering this newfound independence and there are about 90 voices in the circle when it's time to announce our success or plan barbecues, but ask people to make some cold calls or schmooze a little and all of a sudden everyone has plans.

I mean this in the nicest possible way, people, but grow up! If you want independence, you will occasionally have to do things you don't want to do. And furthermore, you have to kick ass at them the same way you would on things you do like. I'm younger than most people, but I feel like I'm welcoming them to real world sometimes: newsflash: this is what grassroots organization is like. Not all peace pipes and celebrations.

I'm baffled by people who seem to be utterly missing a sense of duty. Though I am starting to realize that it's the reason many of these people can't be confident that a player-run league will work - if they were running it, it wouldn't!

(Nicest possible way, remember. I'm proud of ALL of us!)

Good Tidings To All

Dear Friends and Family,

I've never written a Christmas letter before (and this may be the first and only time, we'll see) but I received one on Monday from an old boss and it made my day, so I thought I'd give it a shot. And this saves me address-collecting and stamps. And time.

It has been quite the up and down year for me. In late spring, I switched from the worst job I've ever had to the best. I am apparently now a member of the financial world (hedge funds, even!) and a citizen of corporate America (albeit a corporate America where you can wear trucker hats). Things don't always happen like you plan them, I guess. Particularly if you plan them when you're 21...

I was also part of a group that founded a women's baseball league in the Chicago area. We recruited enough people to fill four teams, negotiated ourselves a league affiliation, and played an 11 game season, all without killing each other. Better than that (though that was good), I played in three tournaments, one each in Baltimore, Detroit, and Fort Myers, FL, which made me quite nostalgic (in a good way) for high school. The league is poised for a second successful year and I think we'll add Vegas to the tournament schedule and perhaps get to run a tournament ourselves here in Chicago.

Other than that, I play soccer when I can and even tried rock climbing, though boy, I was terrible at that. Curse of the short arms and all...

The cat had a good year as well, and though she remains deathly afraid of plastic bags and the dustbuster, she has improved her social skills a great deal, made friends with my mom (who buttered her up by sending a fleece blanket home from Thanksgiving with me), and has even deigned to let frequent visitors give her a friendly scratch behind the ears. She looks forward to turning four in March and to receiving her can of birthday tuna.

Hope you all are having a wonderful holiday season and best wishes for 2008.

*Insert dopey picture of me and cat here*

Not the 'Same Old Lang Syne'

I'm feeling kind of nostalgic these days. Christmas is certainly a factor, since it's such a kid holiday, but it's really related to the fact that Dan Fogelberg died last weekend. I'd be willing to bet that upwards of 50% of you are thinking 'who's Dan Fogelberg?'. Download Same Old Lang Syne (it's about running into an old high school girlfriend in his hometown of Peoria, IL and is probably his most famous song) or Leader of the Band (a good song for those of you who miss your daddies). It's pretty 93.9 The LITE, but it'll get you. But enough of Autobiographical Soft Rock 101.

It makes me nostalgic because my dad really likes Dan Fogelberg (and my dad doesn't generally express opinions about music so when he does, you listen). Really, a lot of my musical...tendencies are reflective of the things my parents put on the stereo when I was young. Billy Joel and Bob Seger and Carly Simon, these artists, among others, shaped my taste in (and enjoyment of) music and it's great to be able to share them with my parents (and my brother - there was a mildly embarassing moment last summer where it was revealed to a friend that my brother and I wouldn't exactly tape over Peter Cetera...).

Some of yesterday's headliners are older than others (though Fogelberg was only in his 50s), but for some reason this feels like the beginning of a new era. Eventually we'll hear that Art Garfunkel is dead, or Elton John, or Bonnie Raitt. And I guess that's really how things work, and how the torch is passed, and not really a surprise, but all of a sudden, it feels like *I'm* getting the torch.
...
Do you think I could submit this as a Wonder Years script?

Gun Control, Please

I was on the 66 bus (Chicago Avenue, baby) last night a little short of 10:00 (yes, I realize that doesn't exactly make sense, but I like the way it sounds). I was thinking about taking a cab, but I peered down the street and the bus was right there. The night buses only come about every 15-20 minutes, so they tend to be kind of full. This one was no exception and I ended up standing about a third of the way towards the rear.

Among the crowd were two men. One was inexplicably playing the role of official bus greeter in that he was standing right in the front, blocking everyone's entrance. Instead of 'greeting', though, he sat and muttered to himself and a very unsuspecting commuter who had the great misfortune of picking the frontmost seat. It was hard to catch exact words, but not too difficult to get the gist. The words "damn preppies" and "hoods everywhere" came up.

Sitting at a window ten feet behind the greeter was a guy in his early 30's, though he was dressed (not to mention acting) like a 15 year old. Hooded sweatshirt, skull cap, poorly shaven, and he needed to work on his indoor voice. Though his outdoor voice was certainly doing a good job with the F word. His traveling companion was trying very unsuccessfully to quiet him down. On my way by him, he asked for a high five, which I strangely gave him, only to blurt out "You have huge hands." Which he did.

These two characters quite predictably got into an argument, which began to escalate as we passed Halsted. And I thought, 35 years ago, this would have been a slightly uncomfortable occurence on a bus. But now, as these guys get hotter and hotter under the collar, we all have to worry that someone's packing heat.

Needless to say, I was pretty happy to get off the bus.

Strike? (Labor, Not Baseball)

My Tivo is getting dangerously low on new TV shows (luckily, there will be enough X-Files and Simpsons to go around for a very very long time), which leads me to contemplate this Hollywood writers strike.

I'll admit that I don't really know much about the terms and/or demands, but I really don't understand how a strike is a viable option for people whose jobs a) don't require any training at all and b) are in very high demand. Who wouldn't want to be a Hollywood writer?!? Many of the perks of being "hollywood" while still maintaining your privacy. Not to mention that there are THOUSANDS upon THOUSANDS of people in the world who not only could do a good job, but would jump out of their shoes at the chance to do it. Add in the popularity of reality TV (unfortunate in my book, but undeniable) and I can't understand how the writers can get much out of it. I guess they convince the actors to go in with them, right?

Isn't that kind of like the guys that design the car company logos threatening to go on strike and then trying to drag the...well, the analogy is too difficult, it seems, but the methodology seems all wrong.

Anyone have a better summary of what's up?

Status: Questionable

One of the major benefits of having played sports growing up, and the main reason my daughter(s) are at least going to try it, is that it can give girls a healthy relationship with their bodies, which is pretty tough to come by these days. But it's hard not be proud of something that can perform for you on the field (or court or whatever).

It took me almost ten years to find the downside. I hurt my knee, badly, in the spring of 2001. There was a brief period where I had the idea that maybe it was fine, but no dice. I had surgery, didn't walk for three weeks, didn't run for nine weeks, and didn't feel like myself on an athletic field for more than a year. When you ask a lot of your body, sometimes it doesn't quite keep up. And then you can have a teeny little problem with trusting it in the future.

This year, I hurt my shoulder playing baseball (though not as badly, thank god). I didn't really throw for the last two weeks of the season and I haven't thrown in the last month either. I did manage to put my money where my mouth was and go to the doctor (as a friend says, if it's bad enough, you'll go to the doctor. I guess this a nice way of saying shit or get off the pot), who thinks it's fine, but I'm not convinced. He did all his tests, and I trust him, but there's something not right about it. I feel like I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop. Some part of me almost wanted him to say that there was somthing wrong with it, because at least then the doubt would be gone.

Or maybe it's just my imagination. Guess we'll wait and see.

Love Is

There's an article in the New York Times today called Love in the Time of Dementia. Mostly, it talks about the different experiences of love between young couples and old couples. You can read it for yourself, but I will tell you the most touching story I've heard in a log time.

Former justice Sandra Day O'Connor's husband of 55 years is having an affair with another woman. He has Alzheimer's and lives in an assisted living facility and has struck up a romance with another woman who lives nearby. Justice O'Connor, for her part, is delighted and even visits with the new couple.

"Young love is about wanting to be happy," says psychologist Mary Pipher (didn't she write Raising Ophelia?). "Old love is about wanting someone else to be happy."

For my part, I think I have a lot of growing up to do...