Then and now, not so different

I was born and spent my early childhood in Chicago. I now live in Arkansas, in a little house in the woods.

While these two places may seem like polar opposites, there are similarities. And one place definitely reminds me of the other.

When I lived in Chicago, on the south side of the city, it was a very long time ago. My family lived in a neighborhood that was not unlike a small town. Yes, neighbors’ houses were a little closer together, but that was OK back then. We had close friendships with our neighbors.

There were vacant lots sprinkled throughout the vicinity where we kids used to play. I remember birds butterflies, and wildflowers, the likes of which I hadn’t seen until moving to Arkansas. I remember the first time I saw a bluebird here. It occurred to me that I hadn’t seen a bluebird since those days so long ago. The colorful birds and the sounds emanating from the trees filled with them brought me back to another time. But that was a summertime memory.

Contrarily, I awoke this morning to the sight of huge snowflakes alternating between drifting randomly and falling steadily from the sky. The snow began slowly, but soon began to add up to a blanket across the landscape. It is a scene that always makes me smile. It reminds me so much of my life at five- or-six years old when I woke up to a snowy scene. It always meant a day full of fun.

We don’t get much snow in Arkansas, so when we do, it is an event. The view out my window was one of complete serenity, so different than what was expected. This was to be a horror—with predictions of ice so thick it would compromise electric lines and snap tree limbs. We have been through that here already. An ice storm of 2009 was one to remember, when our electric power in our all-electric house was out for five days. Everyone who lives in these parts remembers, fears, and dreads a repeat event. This thankfully was not that.

I certainly remember what it was like to go outside to play. Snow meant sledding, snowballs, building snowmen, and shoveling. But as an aging adult, I had to settle for a quick trek to fill the bird feeders. While my time outside in the snow paled in comparison to the time I spent outdoors back then, I remember what 19 degrees felt like. I recalled being so cold I could hardly feel my hands and feet. Socks and mittens were drenched. Back then we put them on the oil stove to dry. I’ll never forget the feeling of my feet; when they warmed up they were as itchy as an infestation of chigger bites—well almost.

In the city, our family lived next to the railroad tracks where a huge hill made the best sledding spot. And, it was right in our own backyard. Winter was so much fun.

While I’m not so enamored with the coldest season these days, admittedly I do enjoy when it snows. That old oil stove is just a memory. Today, the house is partially warmed by a fire blazing in a wood stove. It smells much better.

While life as an adult is very different from those innocent, carefree, happy times as a child; and Arkansas’ life is far from the hustle and bustle of the city, there really are similarities. I suppose my life and penchant for nature illustrate the connection between these two opposing times and places.

Like enjoying bluebirds, I also delight in the beauty of snow.

 

Memories sparked by photographs

I can barely remember a time when I wasn't enamored with the late Andy Williams. His music has soothed my soul for almost 50 years. 

I was recently reminded of just how long ago that was while cleaning out some cupboards in the garage. I found some old photo albums. I thumbed through them and was reminded about the time I saw Andy live in concert. Of course I had forgotten about these.

The pictures are poor, taken with a small film-fed camera from a seat fairly far from the stage. But even though details of his features are fuzzy, that stance is so familiar and recognizable. And, I will always believe that in this shot, he was singing just to me.

I still have the ticket stub from that concert. Andy performed with Michel Legrand on the piano. They were two superstars as far as I was concerned.

The concert was on a Friday night, Nov. 26, 1976 at Airie Crown Theater in Chicago's McCormick Place. It was a very cold, frigid night in the city with temperatures below zero with a cold, blustery wind whipping off the lake. It assaulted us as we crossed the parking lot to our car. Despite memories of the cold, that night burns in my memory.

This turned out to be a memorable night in my life. I was on a date with the man I would marry a few months later, the same man with whom I/ve shared my life ever since. 

I always say I married John because he took me to see Andy--that's my story and I'm sticking to it. I was even able to convey that to Andy when I had the opportunity to meet him in person at his book signing of "Moon River and Me," a few years ago. Meeting Andy was to fulfill the dream of a lifetime.

I was so anxious to read his book, so I started it on the drive home. I wrote about that too as I savored the reading of Andy's memoir. 

Though Andy has been gone for several years, I will never forget him and what he's meant to me. Despite the indelible mark he's made on me, I know the beautiful music he created will endure even longer.

Too much experience with snow makes me love and appreciate Arkansas

Winter Storm (Photo credit: jdn)

Despite the biting cold temperatures we've been experiencing here in the Natural State this winter, I am so thrilled to be here.

I know the other side of winter--the one currently being experienced by my friends and family--in the north. I am hearing reports of road closures, hideously long travel times, blizzard-like conditions, plummeting temperatures, and unending snow-shoveling. The pictures are terrible.

I can relate.

It doesn't seem so long ago that I remember my feet being so cold I could barely feel my toes. I recall more than once, stepping off a curb onto the ice only to have it give way beneath me, plunging my feet into an icy abyss. The ice cold slush may have only been a couple inches deep, but it was as shocking to my system as being completely submerged into a frozen sea. Just as bad was the feeling when my skin began to thaw. It was accompanied by intense itching, second only to an infestation of chigger bites.

I remember trying to breathe what little warmth my body possessed into a scarf just to keep my nose from freezing. I remember getting off the train at Union Station only to have to walk to my office across the bridge over the Chicago River, hoping the bitterly cold wind in the aptly-named windy city didn't carry me away or freeze me in place. 

But my worst winter experience was when I was stranded in my car. For nine hours I waited to be rescued, all the while, having  very full bladder, which was the worst part of the entire ordeal.

Toyota Celica 1972 (Photo credit: Toyota UK)

It was April 2, 1975. The day began in the 60's. There were eight days in a row that made it feel like spring would be early that year. I dressed accordingly for work that day.

I lived in Aurora, IL and worked in Downers Grove, IL, western suburbs of Chicago. It was about a 20-mile drive home. It was a crazy day. Seemingly out of the blue, the temperature fell like a rock in the afternoon. It also began to snow, with that wet, heavy, quickly-accumulating snow. It was also very windy, causing white-out conditions.

At the time I had worked at a check-printing plant. I was not alone in thinking we should close early, but the management would have none of that. So, we stayed until 5 p.m. I lived the farthest away.

The snow began to pile up in what would result in the "biggest snow of the 1974-75 snow season that recorded 52.2 inches," according to Chicago Weatherman Tom Skilling.

It wasn't too bad driving, at least for me. I had a Toyota Celica with studded snow tires. It was the last year before they were banned. If I'm not mistaken, I should have already taken them off my car, but just hadn't gotten around to it. I think April 1 was the cut-off date.

Thankfully, I was able to maneuver through the heavy snow, and had relatively little trouble stopping at intersections. I loved those tires.

Then at one point, the traffic just stopped moving. I was in a long line of cars that suddenly were stationary. Fortunately I had gas in the car, and a jacket in the back seat. Most importantly, I had my favorite eight-track tapes with me. There were no cell phones back then. There was no way to get in touch with anyone. So I just listened to my music, wrapped the jacket around my legs, and told myself this wouldn't last very long.

It was starting to get really dark. It started to get cold too, even though the car was running and the heater was on full blast. Finally, some guy appeared on a snowmobile. He stopped at each of the cars, one at a time. When he got to me, he asked if I was alright, if I had any medical conditions. I told him I was fine. He advised me to keep my windows ajar and to turn off the car now and then, so as not to become asphyxiated from carbon monoxide. I asked what was the hold up and how long would we be stuck here. He said two trucks had jack-knifed, one in each direction, unable to climb the incline of a bridge just up ahead. Once they were moved, we could get on our way.

I felt a little better, except that ever since the time I left work, I had to go to the bathroom. It was starting to get serious now. I wondered how much a bladder could hold before bursting.

The wind continued howling and blowing the ever-increasing piles of snow. It was drifting up against my car. I kept opening the door periodically and removing the snow from around it. I realized if I wasn't able to move soon, I'd be really stuck. I observed the people around me. There were two guys in front of me in a pickup; two guys behind me in a car. One by one, guys were getting out of their car and walking toward a billboard just ahead of us. It dawned on me, they were reliving themselves. I wasn't the only one that had to go potty. I thought about traipsing up there myself, but the thought of wading through what was now more than a foot of snow in a short skirt, heels and panty hose was not my idea of a good time. I looked in the back seat for some kind of container. There wasn't any. I was probably more worried about a bathroom than a warming station at this point.

Finally, nine hours into my ordeal, another snowmobiler came by. It was a fireman who said he was going to help me make my way to the fire station, about a quarter of a mile from where we were parked. Our location was also just outside a new shopping center that was in various stages of being built--Fox Valley Center. It was way too far to get to on foot in these conditions. For that matter, so was the fire station, but we were going to try. So we left my car in what I was beginning to think of as its snowy grave. The fireman held me up as I attempted to walk in snow higher than my knees. I'm short--it was very difficult. Without him I couldn't have done it. I clung to him with each step. There were drifts up to my thighs in some places. He helped me navigate them. Finally, we got to the station where there was a bathroom, thank goodness. There was also a phone. I was able to call my roommate and my mother to tell them I was alright. A fire squad ferried several of us to the Sears store. They were already out of food, but had a little coffee left. The store was new and hadn't opened yet, so they didn't have provisions for wayward travelers.

I ended up spending the night at one of the tables in the snack bar at Sears talking with a couple of guys who worked at Fermi-Lab. I think I put my head down and fell asleep for a few hours only to be awakened at dawn by one of the guys who said they were taking us to our cars. When I got there, I noticed I had a flat tire. There was also a local farmer with a front end loader that offered to pull my car out of the snow for a fee. I gave him a few bucks and off I went, flat tire and all. I couldn't wait to go home to my bed. When I got there, I called in to work, telling them I wouldn't be in because I had just gotten home. No sympathy. In fact, they seemed suspicious, as if I was lying. I think they were a little miffed that I wanted to take the day off. I was annoyed, but too tired to think about it. I got regular tires put on the next day and went to work.

This wasn't my only experience being stranded in the snow.

West Lafayette, Indiana (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Two years later, when my husband John and I were returning from our honeymoon in Florida, we hit a freak snow storm. It started snowing in Kentucky and by the time we got to Lafayette, Indiana, the traffic was no longer moving. Since we couldn't go any further, and I had been in this play before, I convinced him to turn around like many others were doing. We drove the wrong way on the interstate to get to the last exit where we maneuvered our way into town.

We passed trucks stopped along the way, cars in the ditches, and huge snow drifts that we almost got stuck in ourselves. Finally, we learned that the interstate, I-65, was shut down at West Lafayette. Had we not turned around, we would likely have been stuck in our car. We found a motel with a vacancy and checked in for the night.

The weather was as bad as it could get. It was snowing, blowing, and the temperature hovered around zero. This was way too similar to what I had been through just two years earlier.

Sleeping was out of the question. I don't think either of us had ever been that cold.The wind howled through the night and drove the snow in through the cracks in the walls and windows. There was actually snow inside our room. The heater wasn't great either. We huddled and shivered for hours. Finally, with the light of day, we decided we would do anything to get home. Home was north, but the road was still closed, so we took a different route south, then west, and north again on I-57. We were finally able to make it home after going way out of our way.

The bottom line for me, is, I paid my dues to live in Arkansas. It would be easy to say that I never want to see snow again, but that isn't quite the case. I love the snow, as long as I can stay home and enjoy its beauty. That is what it is all about for me, living in Arkansas. I am drawn to the immense beauty of this place. I love living in a place that only gets a couple inches of snow at a time, it melts quickly, and doesn't happen too often.

I feel sorry for my friends and family, but I wouldn't live up north for anything. I love it here.

Rest in peace Andy

I've just learned that Andy Williams has died, after losing his battle with bladder cancer. Like so many people who hear this news, my heart is broken. I feel like I have lost a beloved family member.

My love of Andy Williams goes back to when I was 14 years old. That is now 55 years of adoration.

I was fortunate to get to meet him in person--to pose for a picture with him. I even wrote about about the encounter. It was at a book signing when Andy released his long-awaited memoir, "Moon River and Me." I wrote about that too, and how I savored every word. His book was a treasure trove of memories, but not just for him; but for me too. I remember so many things about his life. I read everything I could about him.

Just recently, I was looking through an old box of photos when I came across two ticket stubs--from one of Andy's performances. It was a cold, snowy winter day when my husband, John, of 35 years, took me to see Andy at Chicago's McCormick Place. I have long said I simply had to marry a man who would take me to see Andy Williams.

I join the people in the City of Chicago who mourn the loss of Maggie Daley. The former first lady died yesterday. Her family was with her. It was after all, Thanksgiving Day.

Though I no longer claim Chicago as my home, the city of my birth will always have a special place in my heart as it is where some my most deeply-rooted influences began.

I never had the pleasure of meeting Maggie Daley, but much of what was known about her indicated that she was a good, loving woman who cared deeply about her family and others. Her charity work is well documented. Her influence on her husband, Rich Daley, who I have had the pleasure to meet, was evident. I'm sure he would admit he was a better man because he loved her.

Rich Daley has had his critics; it went with the territory. I was not one of them. People either hated him or loved him. I was among the latter group. I found him to be genuine, honest, emotional, and driven by that which inspired him.

I met him during the early 1990's, when he and I were on the same side of the fight against a Peotone Airport. I was always impressed by him, his simple understanding of complex issues, the power he wielded only when absolutely necessary, his intellect, and his cunning. Rich Daley was a leader, not just locally, but nationally as well. When he spoke, people listened.

As has been said so many times in recent hours, Maggie Daley was the woman behind the man with an influence that is obvious in every part of the city the two of them reigned for so many years.

My heart goes out to Rich Daley and his entire family. I can only imagine the loss they must feel.

Jury still out in Illinois' Ex-Gov. Blagojevich case

Illinois Ex-Gov. Rod Blagojevich

Illinois Ex-Governor Rod Blagojevich looks just as dapper today as he did when this picture was taken in 2003 while he was still Illinois' governor. He made an appearance at Union Station in Joliet, IL to speak to an enthusiastic crowd of supporters.

Today, Blagojevich awaits a verdict by a jury of his peers after weeks of testimony was delivered in a federal court room in Chicago. Blagojevich stands accused of 24 charges, including racketeering for allegedly trying to sell the U.S. Senate seat vacated by Barack Obama when he won the Presidential election.

It is amazing that a man who is accused of acting in his own best interests over and above the very people he was supposed to represent, can still appear as cool as Blagojevich does during television appearances and in interviews.

At the time I took these photos, I was one of the people Blagojevich was supposed to represent, though I didn't feel very adequately represented. 

I was among a small group at Union Station that afternoon, in an effort to lobby, and I use that term very loosely, against the state's plan to build a new airport, the South Suburban Airport, near the small town of Peotone, some 40 miles south of Chicago.

C.J. Ogalla lobbies Gov. Rod Blagojevich

We did get noticed, thanks to the adorable C.J. Ogalla, shown at right, who was just 7 at the time. She wrote a letter to Blagojevich. It was heartfelt and touching as it echoed the feelings her mother has expressed for years.

C.J. lives with her family on a working farm near where they want to build the airport. Her mother Judy has been an avid fighter for a long time, vowing she and her husband will never give up their family farm for a project that isn't needed. Blagojevich continued to support the airport while in office.


Blagojevich's latest criticism stems from the fact that he brought his daughters into the courtroom. Why not, he has consistency claimed he is innocent? It is not odd that he would want his family by his side to show their support for him. Besides, it would look good to members of the jury. And looking good is what Ex-Gov. Rod is all about.