Category Archives: Naperville

A Weird And Odd Monday

Today is Labor Day. Or is it Memorial Day? I wished my Facebook friends a Happy Memorial Day this morning and then had to edit the post to reflect today’s true identity. Luckily it was at 4:30 AM, so it is doubtful that anyone viewed my ignorance

In the US many holidays have been realigned to fall on Mondays, as is the case of Labor Day. I would look forward to such holidays as in the past I would work from 8 AM to 10 PM on Mondays. Having a Monday off felt like I was actually getting two days off! Now that I’m semi-retired I’m always off on Monday, and the Labor Day holiday is less of a gift.

After my usually wake-up routine, I shot a good morning text to my friend, Tom. However, I didn’t expect a reply from him. He will use the holiday as an excuse to sleep in. Tom often shows up at this Starbucks, and we will catch up on our lives. Naturally, that also won’t happen this morning.

There is a significant event happening in my town called, “The Last Fling.” It is smack dab in downtown Naperville, and right in my walking path. The event consists of a carnival, food vendors, and multiple music stages that host both local artists and formerly famous headliners. This year’s FF offering is “Cheap Trick.” Blocked streets, sleeping amusement rides, and the smell of stale beer all announce to me that this Monday is different from other Mondays.

Another change is that today we have our town’s Labor Day parade. It is well attended, which means that patrons need to secure a spot on the verge to view the spectacle. The spots fill up quickly and are typically saved with strategically placed lawn chairs. The parade starts at 11, but many chairs filled the parkway at 5 AM as I walked down Jefferson Street.

This morning I saw a large group of people milling on the sidewalk a block ahead, and directly in my path. My “growing up in Chicago” instinct kicked in, and I crossed to the other side of the street. As I approached, I saw that the crowd was actually a large group of women. On the road next to them was an extended passenger van pulling a cargo trailer emblazoned with the logo, “Wisconsin Women.” I walked another block, and I was met by another group of women, all dressed in black, silently riding past me on bicycles. Apparently some sort of bike event, and additional spice adding flavor to today’s oddness.

I entered my Starbucks. At 5:30 AM it is usually populated by a few guys who sit around and talk. I wasn’t surprised to see that they were absent on this holiday morning. What was surprising was that the place was pretty packed. This time it was another group of women, younger ones from North Central College. They were all engaged in friendly conversation. I parked my coat and briefcase on a table and took a side trip to the bathroom. I returned moments later to find the place completely empty as if the 20 women present moments earlier simply vanished. Odd.

Dear reader, I am a creature of habit and prefer the predictability of routine to the excitement of the unknown. I am capable of handling a Labor Day Monday, but I am looking forward to a back to the usual Tuesday.

After I type this post, I’ll walk back home among silent Tilt-A-Whirl and shuttered Funnel Cake stand. This Labor Day is a different day for me for other reasons too, as typically I would watch the parade with my kids. Perhaps we would go to the carnival, we might have a cookout, and we would definitely celebrate the day together. That won’t be happening this year. Anne is with her family, Kathryn and Grace are at university, Will will be working.

I’m unsure of Julie’s plans, and so I have committed myself to some of my least favorite tasks, paying the bills and paperwork. As the day progresses, I may go on another walk, or perhaps a bike ride. Hardly, the excitement of years past.

Despite being a seeker of routine, I need to understand that life will throw me a curve ball every now and then. Today’s curveball is relatively trivial, others will be less so. Like Labor Day, most disruption will be temporary, and my life will quickly return to its status quo. However, it is not unreasonable to expect changes that could my alter my life. Since I have no control over these, I am forced to accept them. Wanting things to be “the way they were,” is useless and energy wasting. It is more important to think about the issue at hand. Can I change it? If so, I will. Do I have to accept it? Then I will do that, but I’ll also ponder how I can make the best of this new situation.

Dear reader, I plan on making the most of every day. Join me in this quest. Stop living in a world of regrets, and what could have been. Take hold of your life, and move forward. We can do it together!

One foot in front of the other…

On Father’s Day

Yesterday was Father’s Day, and I am a father of 4. If you are not a dad, you may consider the holiday a “Hallmark holiday.” An event designed by businesses to get you to buy things. If you are a dad, you probably understand that it is more than that.

Established over a 100 years ago it was an attempt by a daughter to honor her dad, who raised six children on his own. Her initial success was moderate at best, and after many years, she abandoned the concept as her life moved on. She eventually returned to the idea in the 1930s and started to promote it anew. This time retailers were on board as they saw the advantage of a day that could mean additional gift purchases. In 1972 President Richard Nixon officially declared it a national holiday. Although used by the business world to hawk products, it also can be an excellent way to celebrate the father or father figure in your life. Father’s Day celebrations don’t have to include expensive gifts and commercial greeting cards!

For many years my wife traveled with my kids to Minnesota on Father’s Day to spend time with her family. Unfortunately, I had to work and was home alone. I don’t believe in letting other people control my happiness. It was important to my wife to be in Minnesota, and so she was. However, I could still make the day significant for me. I started to go on “great adventures” with my sister Carol. We would get into my car and drive in a random direction. We would stop anywhere that looked interesting, to explore. We would culminate our exploration by discovering a random local restaurant. Some were great, some less so. Either way, it was wonderful fun. I have delightful memories from those “Father’s Day” celebrations, as does my sister. In the last few years, Julie has not traveled on Father’s Day weekend, and I have shifted to a more traditional celebratory day.

I have become older and more sentimental so Father’s Day has become ever more significant to me. My family has risen to the occasions and Father’s Day gets the same treatment as any other significant family day from birthdays to Mother’s Day.

For these special days, the celebrant is typically honored with a meal of their choice. Frequently of the homemade variety, sometimes of the restaurant kind. My tastes run pretty basic, and I asked for chicken, mashed potatoes, and a salad. I also asked for a sugar-free dessert, as I gave up eating large quantities of sugar some years ago.

Last Father’s Day I was promised a new BBQ grill, as our current one is over 27 years old. The old grill now has two speeds, burn and not hot enough. I have replaced many of its innards over the years, but it is just too worn out to repair further. Cooking on it is like solving an advanced math problem. You need to calculate relative hot and cold spots on the grill and then move your food around to make sure one piece isn’t chard while another is raw. Life happens, and the grill never came. However, this year my wife informed me that a new one was ordered and was coming in the next two weeks. Yay!

My daughter Grace searched the internet and found a recipe for a sugar-free apple pie. My son William wrapped some gifts. Both Grace and William made me cards with the most beautiful sentiments inside. My wife made me dinner. My daughter, Anne, called in her greetings. My daughter Kathryn, who is studying abroad in Moscow, texted hers.

For me, it was a perfect day of celebrations. Yes, I was delighted to get the grill, but that was a minor part of my happiness. The majority of my good feelings came from the fact that people were willing to recognize me and expend effort to make me feel special. Some words written on a card, a phone call, a dinner, time together. Efforts that said that I was important enough to them for them to take time out for me. This is what mattered and this is what made the day awesome.

It takes so little to make someone feel special. In fact, I think it takes more energy to do the opposite. What does it take to wish someone a good day? What does it take to write a sentence or two in a celebratory greeting? What does it take to recognize someone for a job well done? Very little. So many times people will say that they are too busy to do these simple things. Too busy? Really? Likely not.

A gift of your time or goodwill is typically reciprocated by the receiver. Yes, there are “users” out there, but they can be quickly sniffed out. The Golden Rule has been around for over 2000 years. “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.” Pretty simple, pretty straightforward. Why is it then that we see the Golden Rule ignored everywhere from our personal lives to our government? Practice it today; play it forward.

What A House Fire Taught Me

Many people see events as separate dots on a timeline. This is not the way that I view things.  To me, everything connects to everything else. I believe that the world is continually teaching us life lessons, but most people ignore them. This leads me to the story of Mike and the builder.

My father was reasonably handy, but only repaired things under duress. Our house was in shambles.  Although we had a basement workshop, he didn’t teach me the arts of construction and repair. Mostly, he would just tell me to fix things. The results would often be poor, and I would hear about it.

I assumed that by some magic I should know how to do things without any teaching or experience.  This made me a self-starter. It also made me hesitant to tackle significant repair jobs.

I never lost interest in fix-it-up projects, and they still fascinate me today. Accomplishing a small repair can give me a sense of pride and joy.

If you have read some of my other posts, you are probably familiar with my friend Tom.  He is a general contractor, and we are the best of friends. We complement each other in our skills.  There are things that I know how to do that are helpful to Tom. There are things that Tom knows how to do that are helpful to me.  The fascinating thing is that many of the ways that we help each other are not by providing direct services to each other. Instead, we complement each other by our association.

Tom is acting as the general contractor on a home rebuild project.  A fire started in the garage of the home, and in 20 minutes it caused an immense amount of damage.  In 20 minutes the homeowner’s lives were changed forever. Their family was safe, but almost all of the contents of the home were destroyed.  Part of the house will need to be rebuilt entirely. All of the interior walls, floors, doors, and fixtures will need to be replaced. The roof, siding, and driveway will have to be reconstructed.

I have been documenting the progress of the repair with photographs.  This project has been done in short segments. However, recently Tom invited me to spend the whole day with him as he was having his carpentry crew do some significant deconstruction and construction of the house.

He picked me up in his dually from Starbucks, and we headed off to the Naperville site. The house was boarded up, and about one-half of the siding had already been removed. I pulled out my Canon 5D Mark III from my Manfrotto backpack, and I started to shoot.  Soon his crew arrived. A caravan of trucks and vans lined the street. Their contents contained carpenters ready to do battle with a house. This job was too big for one person alone.

Tom’s carpenters are experienced, and they scattered over the house without so much as a word from him.  Soon they were ripping down the remaining siding and pulling off the charred wood. The house started to disappear as pile after pile of burnt wood, siding, and other materials filled the driveway.  As the walls came down in the garage, I could see the destruction that the fire caused. It was sobering.

Tom was now coordinating their activities.  Soon we started a shuttle process. To the recycling center with the siding.  To the lumberyard for lumber. To the garbage dump to offload garbage. To the hardware store to get hardware.  To the grocery store to get water. And so it went.

Piece by piece the garage came down, one slice at a time.  Piece by piece a new structure started to emerge, one board at a time.  The new construction wasn’t rising from the ashes; the ashes had been swept away.  The new garage was rising with careful and methodical planning. The new space modified to improve on the old, but still on its familiar footprint.  A structure connected to the remaining beams that were healthy and strong.

There will be a bigger loft above the garage, better lighting on the adjacent porch, a concrete driveway to replace the melted asphalt one.  The new space will look similar to the old, but it will be better.

The effort will be immense, the cost high. In the end, the owners will have their familiar house back, but it will be improved.  Something good will arise from something terrible.

You may think that I’m am using this construction project as a metaphor. However, I would like to challenge that belief.  A metaphor is typically a word or phrase used to describe something which is not literally applicable. What if these life lessons were utterly relevant?  What if there was a cohesiveness that binds us to our planet and all of its occupants? Like laws of physics, these laws were also constant. If one understood these “laws of the world” he or she could apply them globally to improve other aspects of their existence. I believe that we can enhance who we are, what we do, how we feel. The world around us can be our teacher; we need to stop, look, and listen.

Here are just a few of the things that this house taught me:

-Bad things can happen for no reason.

-It is important to accept things that you have no control over.

-It is essential to take responsibility for those things you do have control over.

-Most events or situations are neither good nor bad. We assign these values artificially.

-We can take good things and make them bad.  However, we can also take bad things and make them good.

-When faced with a difficult task, things go better with friends to help you.

-The homeowners will have a better house once the construction is completed.  They will need to pay for this metamorphosis with discomfort, time and effort.  They will have to accept a certain amount of uncertainty. This is no different than making a change in a person’s life. Changing from an unhealthy place to a healthy one will require discomfort, time, effort, and uncertainty.

-At the recycler, we saw mountains of worn metal that will be melted and repurposed.  At the garbage dump, we saw broken cardboard boxes being prepared to be processed for future use. We also saw garbage that had to be discarded, as it was dangerous and toxic.

We may have parts of us that we think are bad, but with effort, we can make those parts good. Other parts have to be discarded, as they are so broken that they pose a danger to us.

-The fire destroyed some of the homeowner’s garden. For new growth to thrive, the dead plants need to be removed.  

Just like the dead plants we need to rid ourselves of bad habits, behaviors and relationships to make space for good, healthy ones.

These are just a few of the lessons that I learned from a burnt house and a general contractor.  Dear reader, look around you, life lessons are everywhere. Perhaps your clothes dryer is trying to tell you something.  Think I’m being ridiculous? Think again.

After the fire
Removing the bad to make room for the good
Rebuilding
Old metal will be melted and become anew
Some things are so toxic that they have to be completely discarded

 

On Old Friendships

Weeks ago we set up the dinner date with Ralph and Anne, and our get together was finally upon us. Julie picked a new fusion restaurant in the River District that she thought didn’t take reservations. Since it was an easy walk from our house, we decided to hike to it early and secure a table for dinner. We would meet Ralph and Anne there. All went as planned with two major exceptions. The place did take reservations, and we didn’t have any.

The trendy hostess said it would be over  90 minutes to seat us at a table. Frankly, an hour and a half is just too long for this old doctor to wait for the privilege to eat a taco pretending to be something more exotic than what it is. We left the fusion joint and traveled down the street to the Rosebud, an Italian restaurant.

I have known Ralph and Anne for over 27 years. About 25 years ago Ralph and I formed a partnership with a couple of other docs and created Genesis Clinical Services, which is a psychiatric and psychotherapy clinic. Together we built the clinic into a successful enterprise. Ralph is more business oriented; I’m more of a creative type. During my tenure as a senior partner, I created the company logo, constructed the first computer network, designed our letterhead, and much more. I even taught myself web-design and built our multi-media website. I was very invested in having the place succeed.

Unfortunately, such efforts come at a price. I was working at the clinic, plus another job. On my “free time” I was immersed in HTML code and Photoshop. What was the actual cost for me? My health. I started to talk to Ralph and another partner (Steve) about my leaving the partnership about 18 months before I did. With that said, I don’t think either of them believed that I would give up all of the benefits of being a partner in a successful medical practice. They were wrong.

Partnerships are like marriages. When you get “divorced” feelings get hurt. Although I thought that I had done everything correctly, the actual separation was very traumatic. I was hurt, felt betrayed, felt angry. I think the same could be said of Ralph. To make matters worse, I had decided to stay with the practice. I went from being a top dog to a lowly contract worker. I did this because I thought it would cause the least amount of trauma for my patients. I felt that I could handle it, this was a miscalculation.

After the dust settled, I was determined to put my angry feelings behind me. I know that Ralph is a good person and I believed that he would not deliberately try to hurt me. The reality was that despite the fact that we had grown to 5 partners, Ralph and I did the majority of the administrative work. My leaving placed a significant burden on him. Early on I intellectually forgave him for his actions. A workable truce was established. Unfortunately, intellect and emotion are two separate things. I was still raw and hurting. The closeness that I felt towards Ralph was replaced by a protective shield. I was in self-preservation mode. He was likely in a similar place.

At times I would cautiously extend a hand of friendship to him, and at other times Ralph would extend one to me. Like most reparative situations our connection trajectory wasn’t linear, it was jagged. Despite our mutual trauma, we both saw the greater picture. We were good people who genuinely cared about each other. We weren’t willing to throw away our friendship based on an isolated disappointment. We started a deliberate plan of walking with each other. A time of talk and reflection.

I can’t say when my emotional forgiveness caught up with my intellectual forgiveness, but it was a while back. Thankfully, we are back to our “pre-trauma” friendship state.

And now back to the Rosebud…

I texted Ralph that we moved our dinner plans to the Rosebud, and in a few minutes, he arrived with Anne. Nods were exchanged, then hellos. We sat down to Italian food and a little red wine. Talk of career, kids, potential vacations. It was just a regular evening with friends. It was beautiful in its lack of uniqueness. As we parted Julie asked me, “Do you think that they had a good time?” I replied, “I think so, I know that I did.”

Dear reader, I am a person who does not need many friends, but I do need some friends. Like any other relationship, sometimes friendships go smoothly, sometimes less smoothly. I am glad Ralph and I saw the bigger picture, and that we were willing to reach out to each other until our connection was fully healed.

At the same time, I understand that this scenario is not always the case. In my 65 years, I have had long-term friendships abruptly end for no apparent reason. I have also had friends distance themselves from me because of a misperceived slight, despite efforts on my part to correct the issue.

I tend to have very long-term friendships, but even here I need to reassess my connections with others. In retrospect, I have friends who only contact me when they need something from me, or when the fancy strikes them. When they have been asked to put out a little bit of effort for me, they have better things to do. Are these real friends? Their actions say no, but I am still uncertain. Do I continue to invest in these friendships? Do I let the connection coast along until time or an event forces the relationship back into the atmosphere of reality; where the relationship will burn up and disappear? Do actively end them? I do not have an answer to such questions at this time, but I am pondering.

I do know that friendships come and go. Some are worth considerable effort to maintain. Some get effort that is hugely undeserved. I have people in my life who appreciate me for who I am, rather than what I can do for them. Of course, I am there for these people. The amazing thing is that they are also there for me. These connection feel true and intrinsically more satisfying than some of the “what have you done for me lately”relationships from my past.

Dear reader, honor your friendships. Tell your friends that you care about them. Be kind to your friends. Don’t waste excessive energy on people who are not willing to do the same for you. You have value and worth that is based on who you are as a person. Fill your life with people who you love, and who love you. Celebrate that you are loved.

NNHS Graduation/The Ugly White American

It was a little before 6 PM, and I received an urgent call from my wife, Julie.  “You got to get here now!” She said. She had driven my daughter to Naperville North High School for her 7 PM commencement ceremony.  “The place is already packed!” Julie exclaimed through my earpiece.

I told her parents that we needed to finish dinner and get moving.  Soon we were in my car driving the 6 minutes to the school. As we arrived, I could already see the parking lot filling.  Luckily, my wife had obtained handicapped parking, as her parents are both near 90.

Her parents were guided to handicap seating, and we made our way to the bleachers.  As usual, guests had secured extra spaces for their friends and relatives by holding spots with coats and blankets.  With that said, there were still swatches of seating, and we quickly found a place for the three of us. We settled in, and I started to fiddle with my camera.

About three rows in front of us was a family of Indian origin.  It looked like a dad, mom, a kid and some relatives. It appeared that they had a good family representation, but they also had blanketed an area in front of them for additional guests.

Around 10 minutes before the ceremony I saw a large white man out of the corner of my eye.  He was wearing the suburban white guy uniform, khaki pants, and a blue shirt. With him was a teenage girl sporting an expensive haircut, and presumably, the guy’s wife who looked like a suburban white mom.  He started to push his way into the bleachers as he headed for the seats reserved by the Indian family. I could hear the small Indian man telling him that he was saving the seats for his family. The big white guy seemed to sneer as he loudly said, “They are not here now, they lose their seats.”  (or something similar to that). The Indian man protested more, but the big white guy moved forward, followed by his family. Speaking of the white guy’s family, they moved in without any sign that they were disturbed by his behavior. I thought, “Talk about entitled.”

The Indian man gave up, but I could see the humiliation on his face.  My wife turned to my son and told him, Don’t you ever act like that man.”  My son replied, “I never would, or will.”

Five minutes later I spotted a younger Indian man coming up the bleachers.  Behind him was an elderly Indian woman. Her very white hair neatly pulled into a bun, her body bent over from age.  The reserved seats were intended for these people. I imagined the younger man picking up his grandmother for this extraordinary day. I pondered that they likely came a little late to avoid the surging crowds, as the lady looked frail.  I thought of the excitement that they must have felt anticipating the graduation.

There was no seat for them.  The white guy saw them but could care less. They uncomfortably squeezed in with their relatives.  I felt as powerless as the small Indian guy. Do I create a scene? That would do nothing. Should I apologize to the Indian man for the other guy’s horrible, entitled, and self-centered behavior?  That would probably embarrass him even more. I said a little prayer.

At the end of the two-hour ceremony, we exited, and God granted me a favor.  As I was coming down the bleachers, I saw the elderly Indian woman trying to exit.  The crowd was pushing forward and would not yield. I drew myself to my biggest white guy size, and I blocked the path behind me making space not only her but her entire clan to exit.  As the small Indian man left the row, he looked up at me, and in his eyes, I could see his appreciation. I showed him the respect that he deserved. I felt a little bit better.

The big white guy had hooted when his son’s name was called to gather his diploma.  I made a mental note as I wanted to see who he was. I thought he had to be someone in power to treat another human being so terribly.  I found the son on Google. He played football for NNHS and had a few minor newspaper articles, but I could not find the dad. His big guy’s ego was more significant than his position. One of the articles that I saw mentioned that the son was a “good guy.”  I thought to myself, “I hope so.”

Dear reader, please love your neighbor, and “Don’t’ you ever act like that man.”

Graduating almost 700 students.