BEST AND WORST I'VE SEEN-2010

A city having a sportsgasm after Patrick Kane scores a game winning goal nobody saw to bring the Hawks the Stanley Cup. The celebration reverberated in every corner of the city and the multi day party unprecedented.

Health Care Bill passes. No matter how other parties try to slant it,affordable health care for everyone is never going to be seen as a bad thing by anyone who possess all their faculties.

The environmental disaster that was the gulf oil spill provided a pulpit for every grandstanding politician and a punch line for every pundit but the true scope of the disaster was brought home by the vivid pictures of oil soaked wildlife.

"Curb Your Enthusiasm" reigns as the best comedy on television in my view as it wraps up its 7th season with the Seinfeld reunion that should have been.

"The Office" offers consistent comedy on a weekly basis with a cast that can count itself among the best ensembles in sitcom history. But can they endure minus Steve Carrell in 2011?

Chicago weather forecasters continue to panic peddle the weather whenever a cold spell,heat wave,thunderstorm or snow system approaches the city.The weather should make the news,the news shouldn't make the weather. Jerry Taft in particular seems to understand the understated and presents facts minus the frantic. And may our friend Amy Freeze get a new deal to remain on Fox Chicago.

How do they continue to show up on TV? Cheryl Burton,Jim Rose,Janet Davies ,Karen Jordan...Don't contracts expire anymore?

Biggest election disappointment: Joe Berrios elected despite everyone warning it would be a big mistake. Berrios started hiring relatives shorlty after getting in.

Always nice to find a new local restaurant that deserves a second trip...Antico Forno in Elmwood Park.

Two sold out nights for The Harlem Nights Players as they raise money for St.William Parish in April with a Christmas show.

Meeting Jackie Bange,Lise Dominique and the incredible and vibrant Harry Volkman at the event above.

Incredible friends both loyal and supportive who are my extended family.

Disappointing summer sports particularly on the north side where new ownership tanks and a championship seems further away than ever.

The IPOD Touch. Not often a gift can beome part of a lifestyle but I don't know what I did without this thing.

This year I became much less patient with grouches,grumps,the impolite and overly loud. Age may be catching up to me or maybe I just want some peace and quiet.

"Men Of A Certain Age", the best comedy/drama on the air. Ray Romano ,fresh off "Everybody Loves Raymond" is perhaps the most under rated talent in show business.

Jay Leno went from being a homogenized,gladhanding vanilla flavored talk show host to world class weasel and his ratings reflect america's disdain

People feel sorry for you when they hear you are estranged from a family member but that doesn't always have to be a sad event. Its been two years and the air has never smelled fresher.

Conan O'Brien makes people dislike Jay leno more than many do already,and takes his act to TBS where he has yet to show why he was given the Tonight Show in the first place.

The economy claims "Taste of Elmwood Park" ,a popular west suburban summer festival that brought a community together for decades.

The worst contestant ever in reality TV was a woman on "Big Brother" named Rachel Reilly.

Why does anyone watch George Lopez?

A White Christmas

Wacky new years eve weather as a brisk walk can make you work up a sweat.

And So Another Christmas Passed

You only get so many Christmases and we just spent one of our allotted supply, a sad thought on the night a Christmas closes its two month run.

For all those who complain it was too early to hear that carol,too soon to see that store decoration,premature to take out the box of ornaments,it's all over now and it went by in the flash of an eye. And it always leaves me wanting more.

I write this recollection more for myself than anyone who might see it accidentally or on purpose.

There's no day like Christmas Eve. I'll never work on this day,never do anything I don't want to do. I wait for this one all year. Full of anticipation,a pulpable sense of excitement and cheer it is a day of imagination like no other. I was up bright and early doing housecleaning so Christmas would not enter a cluttered home,when I put things on hold to make what I expected to be a quick trip to CVS and the cemetery to visit my folks. It is they-especially my mom-who are responsible for my deep devotion to all things Christmas and I need to spend a few moments with them . On my trip there it never occurred to me their stones would be under snow. I had an orange ribbon to place by their headstones but I couldn't find them. I got my snow brush out of the car and started clearing snow,searching. I had gym shoes on and I was wet and cold (but at least alive) and everytime I bent over my phone keys would stick and let out a loud tone. I took it out of my pants pocket and put it in my coat pocket. After more attempts to clear snow and locate my parents resting place,I gave up and rode away to CVS,delayed by a long Christmas Eve freight. And once there I realized I had only my empty phone case. No phone.

I left CVS right away and jumped into the car heading back to the cemetery while cautioning myself to stay calm.I was rattled and in a hurry and that's a good recipe for a crash. As it snowed I pictured my phone being covered with snow,being found by someone ,or laying out there waiting for me. It took me 45 minutes to get back there--it would normally take 10 but the longest (and most illegal) freight train in the history of the Christmas season tied up traffic for a mile. Finally back to the cemetery I started digging around for the phone. I couldn't find it,but I DID find my folk's headstones. I couldn't do it anymore .I hoped to flag down a mourner and see if they had a cell phone to call my number.I hoped somewhere beneath the snow the phone would ring and give it's location away. Not a creature was stirring,so I resigned myself to driving home,finding another cellphone and heading back a third time as my Christmas Eve and the things I needed to accomplish before nightfall seemed like it would be tabled,my favorite day laid to waste. I came home and finally located a cell phone and jumped back into the car.Making sure the phone had juice I called my missing phone and it started ringing--INSIDE THE CAR. Wedged between the car seat and the compartment next to it, my phone was not among the buried at the cemetery after all. A third trip avoided and Christmas Eve can resume.

House cleaning done,prescription picked up,decorations tweaked and tightened,I was ready for Christmas.

Each year I am fortunate enough to be invited to a friend's family Christmas party where food flows freely (as does the wine and beer) and the spirit of Christmas abounds. Laughs,recollections,presents and caroling around the fire pit -and this year it was loaded with atmosphere as light snow fell...It's always hard to tear myself away from this annual ritual but I must always be home by 10.

Why? Okay this might seem odd.

Starting in about 1982 or so I have been taping the Christmas Eve broadcast of the local news. I have the top news,weather sports and Christmas features from those broadcasts collected and I can't stop doing it every single year.It is my own personal tradition involving and satisfying no one else but me,but I must continue it though it will almost certainly be nothing important now or in the future. And after that,friends come over pre midnight mass and we have a shot to welcome Christmas,share some cookies and a few more laughs,then head to that traditional church service. This year,we were not at our own church,St.William. They shifted midnight mass to 10 PM, a popular trend in parishes but one I don't accept. Not just for the traditional aspect but because midnight mass figures conveniently in to my Eve activities. And through the light snow we drive about a mile to a brightly decorated house of worship where we pray and give thanks for the same things we have done in previous years at our home parish. Though there are no familiar faces,we're still part of a community that welcomes Christmas and relives the best story ever told from the pulpit.

Once home,I make sure the lights are out,but for one of our trees-a small one that keeps Christmas bright consistently-and go to bed to listen to a radio version of "A Christmas Carol". The morning brings Christmas and we only get so many.

I'm going to spend them wisely and full of good cheer.

WHEN YOU DRIVE THE REINDEER CAR THE WORLD IS YOUR HIGHWAY

Each year around this time, people decorate their hearth and home and I do that as well. But I also decorate my car. If you should see a midnight blue Saturn with an obtrusive muffler lumbering up the avenue with a set of antlers and a big red nose on the front of the grill, behind the wheel will be a little old driver who is semi lively and relatively quick...but it isn't St. Nick. That's me.



A couple of years ago I spotted a car parked in the lot of a liquor store adorned to look like one of Santa's finest and it gave me a chuckle. A veteran of many Christmases, here was a decoration and a display that I had never seen. I found it unique,so when I came across the antlers and nose that would make my car and I rolling Christmas at a local store, I jumped at the chance.



Now,every November this run of the mill Saturn goes from being just another used car to the Reindeer Car. And as we traverse the avenue, pedestrians and my fellow drivers show us the Christmas love. It really is nice to see other motorists from elderly ladies to skinheads smiling at me and using their index finger instead of the middle finger when they spot us. The other day a little girl asked her mom "if that was Santa Claus" as we pulled out of a parking lot. I coaxed a smile out of a gas station attendant and they pretty much despise everyone. My family worries I might get ticketed for being "too deery".



Sometimes,while on a mission, I forget my car is dressed for Christmas. I'll see someone laughing and take the chortles personally. "I am NOT an animal!" Then I remember it's not me...my car actually LOOKS like an animal. The headlights of the car,positioned beneath the cushy red nose,make it appear it's not just a reindeer,but a smiling,toothy one. I have been given the right of way even when the rules of the road said I didn't deserve it. I've been smiled at honked at and stared at and generally been treated the way a beautiful woman in a convertible must be treated all year long. I have grown to look forward to stop lights to see the reaction of people who aren't texting.



Christmas is often referenced as the time when we're all family realizing we're traveling the same road ,strangers become friends and the feeling of brotherhood abounds. On the road I travel in my silly reindeer car, out the windshiled I see that spirit reflected in the faces of the folks who for one moment, while coping with holiday traffic and the stress of the season,have a holiday chuckle. And after the new year when my car is just a Saturn with a noisy muffler, I start shopping for a pair of bunny ears and a snout because this kind of attention is hard to give up.

On twitter,the Reindeer Car will be @deeercar

The Night Before Christmas

Do you remember where you were as Christmas came in last year? Five years ago? How about 20? I do. As Christmas Eve slipped away with its anticipation and promise,giving way to a brand new Christmas morning, church chimes would sound and a choir begun singing "Joy To The World" and you knew it was Christmas. You felt it .... washing over you ,the spirit of Christmas stripped of greed,commercialism and the frills. It was Christmas, raw and spiritual and shared with friends,neighbors and strangers gathered in the neighborhood church greeting a new Noel as one. A service with the carols that accompanied the best story I've ever heard. There was no room at the inn ,setting the stage for the miracle that comes alive every year at this time. I get a chill processing to Communion to the strains of "Silent Night" and after mass, the hearty handshakes,the joy we felt because it was Christmas and we'd made it there together.

Homes would still be lit on the way home even though it was nearly 1 AM. Sometimes the crunch of snow beneath your feet , a moonlit sky that you knew was being checked by a number of kids who should have been asleep hours ago,and those glowing lights. I would never be experiencing any of these things were it not for the one night a year we go to mass at midnight.

I guess I'll find out what it's like to be without many of these holiday pleasures this year because as is the trend with many churches these days,midnight mass won't be at midnight. It will be at 10 PM. We will commemorate the birth of the Christ child the night before it happened. The readings will be the same,the story every bit as wonderful but so much like the cake before the entree. It won't be Christmas and I can't pretend it will be. Midnight Mass was the conclusion of my favorite day of the year. I spend the evening with friends at an annual gathering,then hosted a small gathering of my own with those with whom I would attend mass.We would visit and enjoy holiday treats until 11:30,in church in time to begin the Christmas countdown with a carol service. With the conclusion of each wonderful song,you felt Christmas creeping closer.

You can say that after 10 PM service it will still be dark,the lights will still be glowing,the skies as hopeful with the promise of all things magic and miraculous.The ingredients will all still be there. But it won't be Christmas. I won't feel Christmas take hold,won't feel the eve slip away,won't celebrate making it to another Christmas with a congregation of believers.

I know earlier "midnight" mass may be good news to many. The church may be more crowded as people who are sleeping at 12 AM will now be able to attend.Many attendees will have less liquor in them and everyone will feel safer because the hour won't be as late and that translates to safer streets to many though I'm not sure the crime rates is particularly high on this particular night.

This is the way it is,the way it has become and I don't blame anyone for not subscribing to my point of view. Christmas is as personal as your religion and your political leanings and there is no right or wrong way to celebrate . I will miss Midnight Mass and everything it embodies to me,everything it means to me. I wonder if,months from now, I'll remember where I was when Christmas 2010 arrives .

It might be at a church that still welcomes the new Christmas morning with a mass at midnight.

It's Just A Fantasy,It's Not The Real Thing

Nothing bores non fantasy football participants more than hearing about some mope's fantasy football team and its adventures. I know this. For that reason I don't do a lot of talking about this hobby and this is probably the one and only time I'll write about it. It's not that I am not proud of my successes at the pastime. If one is going to devote time and effort to something, it's always better if you don't suck at it because then it's a waste of your free time.

I own three fantasy football teams at a site called Fleaflicker. One is Chicago Rocks, which I thought was a cool name, one is Harlem Knights in honor of my comedy group and the other,the unlikely moniker Mary's Prayer after my mom. I have tallied 4 championships and made the playoffs with at least one of my teams (and last year all 3) each season. This is,I think,my 5th year. And I don't know THAT much about the game of football. I enjoy it, I watch it but I am not an x and 0's guy. I don't know what the "cover 2" is or any of that terminology. I DO know a good player from a bad one and who to cut from the team and who to add each week.

You start with a team you drafted or that the website drafted for you. That's your corps. Of the 20 players you have,you have to start the ones you think will have the best game that week. This turns it into a guessing game. The best player on the team isn't always the one guaranteed to have a good week. You have to look at a few stats ,read a few websites for some tips but I don't devote more than a couple of hours a week and I do pretty well. There are a large number of players available (kind of a discard pack) each week and you can pick up these "free agents" to replace any of your team members who might be underperforming. Again, you have to guess...hopefully an educated guess...and if you guess correctly,you log onto the site Tuesday and your reward is victory. And the person you played against whom we can assume also was devoted to winning, is vanquished.

I'm off to a 1-0 start with all 3 of my teams and that has emboldened me to add strong players who can't even play yet as they are injured. On their return they will make my teams stronger and in the meantime, we might be able to win without them. Two of my teams are quarterbacked by Peyton Manning and the other by Super Bowl winning QB Drew Brees. Tony Romo of the Cowboys is a back up on one of my teams.

Okay I'm boring you now. As I said,no one wants to hear about another person's team. But for 4 months at the end of each year I am ready for some football...and the fantasy that we can all be champions.

SOME WEEKEND DISPLAYS OF DUMB

Three incidents of inanity from the weekend past:

We're at Applebees to celebrate a buddy's birthday and our server seats us at a table that affords us little room to navigate.We ask him if we might move to the corner booth just behind us and as a good service person should,he complies in a willing and friendly manner.

As we sit enjoying our drinks,the manager approaches us and asks who it was that allowed us to move to this corner table which is always set aside for groups of 5. We were a group of 4 plus birthday gifts. We didn't wish to indict our kind server and in fact were surprised to be put on the spot in this manner. Seems a little unprofessional .

"We don't want to get anyone in trouble,"one of us told the manager. "We won't will we?"

Offering no consolation the manager said we would indeed be getting someone in trouble as we shouldn't have been seated there. We finally told him our server permitted the move,lest he think we made the decision on our own. He walked away from the table as we feared the worst for our kind server but we partied on.

Moments later our waiter came to the table and apologized but he was not supposed to have allowed us in this hallowed corner booth because after all,we were only 4 people and birthday gifts not 5...and we had to move. We weren't pleased and we began the exodus,with our waiter's apologetic help,to a smaller table with dimmer lighting which meant no gift opening. I asked our waiter( who was merely acting on orders for a clueless manager named Duane, ) given the inconvenience and the lesser seating (we could see the vacated corner booth which remained empty for our entire time there) if our birthday celebrant might be afforded a free piece of cake. I would have rather it had been offered as I had never requested anything free in a restaurant in my life but this seemed like the time. We scored the cake.

How stupid is it for a manager to uproot a group happily enjoying themselves in his establishment to relocate them in lesser and more crowded seating while the booth they vacated remained empty? What happened to "the customer is always right"? What was the point? At Applebees on Grand, don't get too comfortable in your seat. You never know when Duane will want to relocate you.

* * *

Saturday was the anniversary of the passing of my friend's mom. I must identify the family to make the point. The Martocci Family had gathered to honor the memory of the matriarch,Concietta Martocci. Some had come from other parishes. When it came time to announce the names of the people this mass was honoring, the lector christened my friend's mom "Con see etta Mariachi." It was one of many miscues but the one of which the family was most aware. Anyone can error but is there no such thing as pre reading,of asking for assistance with a tough name or word? It shows a lack of respect for those to whom this is an important moment and it would be nice if lectors keep in mind that pronounciation is a large part of their job. Mariachi?

* * *

My antisocial neighbor who is a genuine grump, a fact with which other neighbors would firmly agree, is home from work each day at 3 PM and off on weekends. This affords him a good amount of time to mow his lawn. It then becomes a fair question to ask why he insists on doing that task at 9 AM on Sunday , smashing the peace of the week's most laid back morning? Is it passive aggression? Is it a power trip? (He will decide when the neighbors awaken!) Or is he just country dumb?

THIS JUST IN: THE NEWS TEASE IS OBSOLETE

Just about every tv news department does it. You see the anchorperson come on just before or after your show and hint at a late development in an important news story in the hope you'll tune in for the rest of the story next newscast. Who are they kidding?

That ploy might have worked in the long ago but in these days of instant communication any curiosity or interest they are trying to engender goes for naught unless they are courting amish viewership. Just a moment ago a local tv news shop tried to get me to take the bait regarding the days events in the Blago trial. First,because I keep pretty close watch on current events I knew,but had I been preoccupied all day and unaware, I would not wait til the 10 pm newscast. I'd log on and read it online and watch whatever newscast or program I wanted to watch at 10.

It seems to me that instead of trying to unsuccessfully peak our curiosity with a whiff of a news story, they might instead billboard a feature or special report unique to their broadcast.
I would then be a little less insulted at the attempt to tease me into watching their show. But that's just me.

REDISCOVERING PIE

Driving around doing errands on an uncomfortable morning during the worst summer in recent memory in a car with no air conditioning, I voluntarily remained in my sauna on wheels to listen to at least PART of a song I hadn't heard in a long while. "American Pie" by Don McLean.

I'm an old rock and roll guy,I admit,and songs from the 60s 70s and 80's populate my ipod. (Okay,I have given in to SOME modern technology) but "American Pie" recalls a time when music was available on vinyl and the song itself chronicled the very story of a music in its infancy--a story that continues to this day.

Don McLean wrote a masterpiece and when it first came out,had there been the internet and message boards and blogs and Twitter, all of them would be lit up with talk about the meaning of this tune. I vividly recall many columns and DJ radio chatter dissecting "Pie" and translating all of McLeans metaphors. On Sportscenter they'd call this "breaking it down". Decades later, it's a wonder we wondered at all. Though McLean has not gone on record (no pun intended) with official word , this is the story of 3 rock and roll pioneers and the effect they had,with of course,their music,on the life of a young man-Don McLean. The Big Bopper,Richie Valens and Buddy Holly-the holy trinity of McLean's musical world all met their tragic end in a plane crash and the song recounts his pain and the everlasting imprint these early idols,that time period and that music had on his life.

At the time of its release, this was my favorite song. I remember being angry when the song was snubbed for a Grammy Award. I sang it,I played it,I even interpreted it for a music column I was writing at the time. But the ensuing years pushed it further and further down on the lists of songs of which I loved to listen. Tainted by self indulgent off key karaoke singers who monopolized the mic for seven minutes of insult to this classic, it became a song I wished would go away so these off key crooners would quiet down.

And then this morning I heard it again as it was supposed to be heard. Don McLean singing his song and telling his story and reminding me of why I fell in love with this piece of music in the first place. An extra minute or so in a muggy vehicle, a small price to pay for a trip back into rock and roll history--both his and mine.

THE RULES OF KIDDING AROUND.NO,I'M SERIOUS!

I'll not deny that I am a graduate of the school of sarcasm and that occasional cutting remarks find their way from my brain to my mouth . Yet I like to think the heart also plays a role. While no one can be perfect, I think more often than not my kidding manages to remain within certain boundaries because I know my audience. That audience is made up of friends ,most of whom have known me for a very long time and know that I would not intentionally wound them with a verbal shot. Indeed, many of the intended targets wind up laughing themselves and realizing that it is all in good fun,no harm intended. I make it a point to tease only those people whom I like a great deal. I would never tease,kid or insult someone I did not know and did not like.

There's nothing quite so uncomfortable as being witness to someone who has gone too far and has misjudged the audience and has to point out that he/she was kidding or even apologize. So I quickly jotted down some rules for kidding (also called teasing) to keep things good natured.

1)Tease only people with a sense of humor
2)Tease only people who know you like them a great deal
3)Never tease someone in front of a child,stranger or business associate
4)Never tease anyone about something that is out of their control
5)Don't include relatives in any kind of kidding under any circumstances. A person may regularly insult their brother,sister or parent but that's off limits to you because it's THEIR brother,sister or parent.
6)If you are going to dish it out,you must also take it. Laugh at yourself and accept good natured kidding from friends as a sarcastic valentine.The ability to laugh at oneself is a gift.
7)If you get punched in the head,you may not have judged your audience correctly.

If Blago Goes Unpunished,We Won't

I wish I would've been able to take the Blagojevich kids with me when I got my license renewed. Apparently,dragging them around to events is a benefit. And at least at the secretary of state's office they wouldn't have to listen to what an idiot their father is. As Sam Adams Sr.,a member of Blago's law team said, "He may be a goof but he's an innocent goof."

If he is convicted, (and don't we hope he is just based on his smarminess quotient?) he'll become a footnote in Illinois' rich history of corruption but if he goes free--oh mama, Blago's here to stay! He will become the answer when any comedian or entertainer needs a dumb guy joke. When someone needs an old age joke,it's Larry King. When someone needs a fat joke,they lampoon Kirstie Alley. Weasel jokes aim at Jay Leno. And now, ignoramous thy name will be Blago. Watch for him to continue to show no shame by appearing before cameras for everything from Elvis impersonation contests at high profile karaoke bars to cameos in struggling sitcoms. Can you picture him as the ice cream man in "Rules of Engagement"? Maybe he co hosts one Saturday with Svengoolie or writes an advice column for a local paper in Peoria. He may escape punishment but ours would be just beginning.

SPACE RACE

Parking in my usually quiet northwest side neighborhood was never the problem that it is today.In fact I'm late writing this piece because I had to park somewhere near Skokie this warm Saturday morning. While that might be a slight exaggeration,the days of being able to park in front of one's residence are basically over for my neighbors and I.

Lots of this is because of the proliferation of illegal apartments that now dot my block. The many families shoehorned in to the buildings may not be able to afford a legal dwelling, but they know the joys of jalopy ownership and now I have no place to park.

Adding to the mess is the city employee (we will call him "Joe") nearby who parks his city issued vehicle in what most of us now must consider "Joe's spot." Must see attractions for visitors to this neighborhood include our traffic circle, nicely manicured lawns and Joe's parking spot. And when he's away,some neighbors keep his spot open. Once in awhile someone must park there and if they are present when Joe returns,you can feel his disdain. He will park in as near to his occupied space as possible but if the bumper of the intruding car gets a metal kiss, well,Joe is just saying hello. At least one daring resident gets perverse pleasure out of depriving Joe of his self designated spot.Perhaps because Joe has a driveway and a 2 car garage but apparently wishes to stake out part of the good earth for his own. Another neighbor took note of the parking problem and created his own driveway to forever guarantee him a spot near his residence.Desperate times,desperate measures.

Weekends present spectacular parking problems. If you want a space on Saturday and or Sunday, better consider pulling next to the curb about 4 PM Friday afternoon and staying put. It's like getting a reservation at a fine restaurant. It looks like a state funeral has pulled over to the curb for lunch. Attend services at your own risk on Sunday. The Lord giveth but someone taketh away your space as you worship.

If you are one of the fortunate who win the parking space lottery, taking to the road might present another challenge as the cars parked on either side of you have given you precious little room to maneuver. Think Rush Limbaugh trying to pull on a speedo.Wait a minute- don't. I made an aerobic exercise video with the assistance of my steering wheel, working up a frothy sweat attempting not to slam the vehicles that had trapped me in my own parking space. I felt like a character in "Shawshank Redemption" as I triumphantly made my escape from the curb and onto the avenue. And as I looked back at my former cement prison, another car was trying to back in. Poor sap.

For genuine chaos it's hard to beat the day the parking on the left is now parking on the right thanks to street cleaning. It's musical chairs, auto-style as motorists scramble for a spot in this zip code. And when 3 PM arrives and the street cleaning signs no longer matter, folks rush to their cars and take off as if they're leaving a Cubs game. The scramble for the parking space in front of your own home begins.

We used to know every car and the neighbor to whom it belonged. Those were simpler times. Now I use Google Earth to find a place to park and when I do,I proudly display it in my Facebook status. How far we've come and how much further I have to walk to find my vehicle.

IF IT'S THE 4TH IT MUST BE ELMWOOD PARK

Every Independence Day morn when I was younger found me staking out a spot somewhere along Grand Avenue either alone or with a friend or two,wearing a pair of shorts or needing a sweater, to view Elmwood Park's annual 4th of July parade. As a kid,parades were something we'd only see on television around the holidays or when we were home from school on Columbus Day. On July 4th we were up close and personal with the bands and bombast of a procession of people and floats and fire trucks and things a kid doesn't often get to see,at least before the internet was born.

The parade didn't have the flash of the ones we saw on tv but what did we care? We owned a part of the 4th of July and it was the Elmwood Park parade.

These days I see the parade from a different perspective.... that of a participant. The good folks who organize the parade are kind enough to allow my comedy group,The Harlem Nights Players who have a long history with the suburb, to march in the annual event. The past couple of years they put us aboard a beautiful trolley--our very own bus from which we greeted the assembled crowd while being made to feel a heck of a lot more important than we actually are. Quite a step up for the kid who used to sit on a curb to view the spectacle.

We hop on and off the trolley to greet the crowd,give out flyers and candy and soak up the red,white and blue spirit you so often hear about but don't often get a chance to see . Here are children and adults waving flags, dressed in the colors of the holiday and completely devoted to the spirit of the great summer holiday. There are no factions or frowns because today we're all Americans displaying our pride on this special day in this quaint western suburb with its candy covered streets (courtesy of the parade participants.) A milk company happily gives out samples of their product, every politician the village has to offer gives the royal wave from a shiny car because it isn't a parade minus politicians. Fire trucks from every surrounding suburb blare their sirens and make us hope the surrounding communities are fire free while their brave departments assist in the celebration. We've collected business cards from our fellow parade participants as the spirit of togetherness is not limited to the spectators. We hold up signs promising the crowd free dinner at Armand's. knowing full well the place is closed and the crowd gets the joke adding to the frivolity of the day. A confused elf wanders the route with a sign "Oops Wrong Parade!" No surprise,it's a Harlem Nights Player. Pretty girls,excited kids,classic cars, men from the military and a garage band or two make this part of the tapestry being woven across the country on this 4th of July. A small part but a part nonetheless.

The 2010 event has been a discussion topic for months. Elmwood Park is not immune to the weak ecomony and cutbacks have been put in place. Once the place to be around and on the 4th, the Popular Freedomfest nee "Taste of Elmwood Park" has given way to a one evening celebration with a band and fireworks and none of the bells and whistles that have been the tradition there for years. The parade was a potential casualty too. One day rumor had it the parade would not be held,then it would,then it was going to be altered. Message boards lit up with disgruntled suburbanites who didn't like their holiday tradition trifled with. Elmwood Park officials took to the internet to offer explanations and updates.

And this July 4 @ 10 AM, with no taxpayer money used for its presentation,the latest incarnation of this venerable Elmwood Park tradition steps off once again. I'm guessing the flags will be waved every bit as vigorously as in the past, the crowds will come out rain or shine as they always have and the unique flavor of America will be on display as it always has been in the western suburb. Less flash,a touch less dazzle and a shorter route but no shortage of enthusiasm or patriotism this day I'm guessing.

And the Harlem Nights Players will be there not on a shiny trolley but in a pick up truck instead .Our transportation might be a downgrade but there will be no shortage of the anticipation and enthusiasm we experience each year on the streets of Elmwood Park.

ALL HANDS ON DECK

The time has come to paint the deck. I have been putting it off because it rains every few hours this horrific summer. I found a dry slot recently and ventured outdoors with my can of deck stain and sloppy clothes.It wasn't two minutes,I say proudly,before I had splashed enough paint on myself to simulate an abdominal bullet wound and inadvertamtly started painting the deck floor with a BP like spill that eventually made my black sneakers brown and black.



I enjoy painting and in real life I am not sloppy. But there's something about a bucket of paint and having to get it from that container onto a brush and slapping it on a surface that makes me want to be indelicate. I like to slop that stuff on the surface and smooth it out with my brush and if there is collateral staining on my person or in the immediate area ,these are the spoils of home maintenance.



As I do my work, neighbors pass and as if it's been rehearsed they say "Looks good,Jeff." In reality it doesn't look a lot different from the pre painted deck because I'm using the same color but I appreciate the neighborly support. What doesn't look good is Jeff. I look like a tribal warrior with flecks of brown decorating areas of my anatomy not used to being adorned with deck stain. It's difficult to tell me from a chocolate chip.



One hour into this project I wonder why I was putting myself through this. The ecomony is bad and some handyman would consider painting this deck easy money. It was fun for awhile but now when turning back is not an option, I wish I were cavorting with pit bulls.



I factored in the fact that no rain woukld fall on me but less predictable were the free falling acorns from an oak tree that is generally deck friendly with the shade it provides and all. Now as I pant and paint I am being hit in the head by nature's bb's which,after hitting me,rest in the wet paint.



I'm not known for being a handy guy. My other wonderful qualities mask the fact that I need to check the internet before I change a light bulb. Many of the neighbors are aware of this, having seen a cavalcade or construction experts,handymen and Jehovah's Witnesses performing a number of services at my home. This explains why neighbors sitting outdoors are craning their necks,pointing in my direction and rubbing their eyes in disbelief. I'm feeling my oats now,painting in confident,sloppy strokes,letting the paint fall where it may,sweating the sweat of a man of competence and in the process, doing something that makes my home look better instead of hiring someone. For one brief shining moment,I'm handy. I make certain I look like I know what I'm doing hoping they can see me even though it's getting dark and so am I...what has brown done for me? I have been painting for six hours and the deck is done. But some of the boards that adorn the front of the deck need replacing and I'm in a groove. I grab a hammer, a nail and a new board and start to hammer it in place. Look neighbors! I don't just paint! I hammer...I replace and repair! I might even have a business card made.



It's now dark and both the deck and I are painted and one of us needs a second coat. I've put in a sloppy days work and shown the neighborhood that when push comes to shove, I need the help of no one when something needs to be done. The second coat can wait until tomorrow when again I will reopen the can of stain, get the brush out of the baggie and mess myself like an incontinent pigeon. But afterward whenever I sit on that deck with friends and family I can proudly tell the story of a man and his brush and one summer evening when we combined to make the neighborhood think I was as handy as a carpenter, but only I knew it was actually Karen.

BETTY WHITE GETS ME IN TROUBLE

Betty White is everywhere these days. This spunky,slightly saucey senior is the hottest thing in show business. In fact, "Hot In Cleveland" is her new TVLand sitcom and she was razor sharp in its premiere. When J Z dedicates a rap song to you and you're 88, well,that's one of the ways you know you're happening.

Last night as we watched Betty's SNL hosting gig rerun, a friend brought up an unexpected topic. He contended that way back when, Betty was even saucier than she is today. In fact,she appeared without a great deal of clothing on a deck of 1940's playing cards.

That's the stuff you could discuss without resolution for days when Betty was 50. You'd have to write TV Mailbag or Parade Magazine to find out if Betty ever approached the buff. But these days,a few computer keystrokes and any fact can be verified or voided. And sure enough, I was soon staring at the Inquirer website screaming "Betty's Nude Shocker." There was a picture of Betty at 88 next to a 1940's playing card that had her sitting on her legs,wearing earmuffs and not much else,with strategically located stars added by the Inquirer. In fact,this picture was shown on David Letterman's show in 1985 with Betty as guest and back then, she joked about it. The details are online now.

The purpose of this essay is not to judge Betty on her decision to bare most of it or her current dismay at the re-emergence of the pictures. Betty's bare facts got me booted off the FB friends list of a buddy I've known for a good many years.

In order to show the picture to others in the room with me at the time, I put it on my FB page as a profile picture for no more than 60 seconds that morning and it may not have been that long. I removed it quickly,not because I think it was objectionable (nothing is on display) but because I didn't want it as my profile pic,. I just used it as a forum to briefly display the pic to folks looking over my shoulder.

I got back to my FB page moments later and had a message from a buddy telling me I would have to be banned from their FB page for my profile pic which was now an american flag. I thought it was a joke until I checked my own friends list and found myself one short.

I know that kids who probably shouldn't have FB pages might gravitate to my former FB buddy's page and see a scantily clad but discreetly covered former starlet and I'd like to think I'm wise enough to get that though I find nothing inherently wrong with the picture. But the lightning quick speed at which I was consigned to the internet ether by a buddy who should have more faith in my judgement was disturbing. If BP could move half this fast, the mess could have been cleaned up a lot oilier. I mean earlier.

So Betty White has cost me a FB buddy and now I may never get my fan page. But let this serve as a cautionary tale. You're on Facebook and someone is always watching. But maybe only for a few short seconds and with an itchy delete finger.

Deal the cards,Betty!

WHY CAN'T IT JUST RAIN ANYMORE?

I was just watching the kids take some delight in a downpour that occurred here awhile ago. Some had umbrellas,some did not but all enjoyed the surging shower that punctuated a cloudy and humid afternoon. As they enjoyed this wet gift from nature, inside the television ran a crawl warning us that this hard rain merited a flash flood alert. "Don't drown,turn around" one station advised as if speaking to an audience full of Dr.Seuss fans.

In case you haven't noticed,rain these days generally comes with a warning label. We can't have a summer thunderstorm without being warned via half the TV screen that dangerous weather was in the area. We don't just get rain anymore. We get a flood warning, a weather watch, a plea to get away from the windows or put off traveling. Words like "dangerous" , "damaging" and "drown" and "threatening" . The TV beeps,the radio beeps... The rain clouds are now foreboding and the pleasure of a summer rain breaking up the heat and humidity has been lost. What we once called "electrical storms" that had us almost entertained by the power of nature are now to be feared. Any thunderstorm can produce a tornado,we are warned lest we dare enjoy the thundery moment. Radar red might as well be a runaway train headed at us. It's a watch,it's a warning..it's trouble and take cover.

I hate to harp on the old days but rain minus lightning used to keep us playing ball, tag or hopskotch and the heck with the elements. They couldn't send us inside,they aided in our enjoyment. Sure, it was no match for a good snow,(now known as "Blizzard warning!" "Winter weather advisory!" "Don't travel!") but it was summer's watery answer and it was fun.

Whether we are warned so we can't say "Why didn't you warn us?" should a storm show its teeth-likely or not- or whether weather reports are now part information part TMZ I can't say. Applaud the technology that keeps us informed and safe,mourn the loss of a summer thunderstorm that is part of the fabric of this season.

Memo To The Blackhawks: Lose Tonight And You're The Cubs

It wasn't that many years ago but the memory is still fresh. The Cubs, full of promise and youth and considered the best team in baseball was up by a game to the Florida Marlins. Two young and talented aces Greg Prior and Kerry Wood needed to win just a game between them and the Cubs would get to the World Series for the first time in forever. No way the upstart Marlins could pull this off. And the rest is another chapter in the sad history of the Chicago Cubs who never recovered and still search for the holy grail of baseball.

Cut to Sunday evening when a youthful and talented Chicago Blackhawk Hockey club - considered by experts to be the best team in the NHL take the ice with two young talented captains, Kane and Towes just two games short of hockey's prize just as they were Friday and just as they were Wednesday. The statistics speak for themselves. . . any team that opens the finals winning the first two games wins the Stanley Cup. It's happened a startling 31 of 33 times. An article on NHL.com paints the picture ... The Flyers would have to make history to wind up winning the Cup now. Of course that was written before Philadelphia outplayed, outwitted and outlasted (Sorry, Survivor) the Hawk in 2 games in their building. Like Prior and Wood, Kane and Towes have yet to make the impact their promise and skill indicated they would. Like the ill-fated Cubs, the Hawks look a bit desperate, a bit overwhelmed and a little tired as well. Just two games from further electrifying a city that is enjoying ice in June, the Hawks seem to be running only on fumes and very much in danger of extending the hideous sports legacy this city has come to almost expect save for a few memorable exceptions.

Tonight the Hawks can set themselves apart from the horror of a Cub-like collapse, incinerating a season of thrills and promise and relegating it to another disastrous memory. "Remember when the Hawks were just 2 games from the Cup and never won another game??" No one will talk about the achievements, just the bitter end.

Worse yet, a 7th seeded team with the villainous Chris Pronger and fans who are famously among the most boorish, crass, classless and ignorant stands to skate around the Stanley Cup Wednesday night around 10:15 Chicago time which was seen as impossible a week previous.

How do we avoid this latest possible humiliation? How do we keep this season of promise from going down in flames? How about displaying a sense of urgency right after the puck drop? How about shooting rubber at Flyer second string goalie Michael Leighton and shelving the pretty passing and finesse that has marked Hawk efforts against vanquished foes? More shots, more attack, more speed. It is difficult to play against a team who has one more player than has your squad. The Hawks are either stupidly taking penalties and falling into the Flyers trap or the refs have been watching Chicago with a bit more care. Sure everyone wants to slam Pronger and Curcillo but it would be so much more satisfying to see those two villains made to skate down the line and shake hands with every Hawk about to sip from the Stanley Cup. That, to Hawk fans counting on a rare Chicago championship, would be lasting and satisfying. A hit in the head to a bothersome Flyer would provide only a quick high 5 among Chicago fans who want and need so much more.

We intended to be in a bar tonight, desiring to be amongst our Hawk brethren when the magic moment came after 49 years. But the lack of firepower and indeed the lack of fire has sidetracked those plans and maybe for a long time.

Instead, we will gather in house to see if the Hawks can rebound. Indeed most experts had been predicting the Hawks in 6 and that could happen. But the momentum is wearing orange and if the Hawks don't come out showing the Flyers and everyone else they want this thing, then hey hey holy mackerel, no doubt about it, they are the Cubs. On ice.

HITTING THE TARGET

A shopping excursion to my local Target store has become much more difficult as they attempt to make it easier and more convenient. Fresh fruits and vegetables are moving in and most of the goods have been transported elsewhere. The cozy world of Target as we know it,has changed.

Rice is now where the energy drinks once stood,snacks reside where soup once reigned. I have no idea where the raisins are hiding .I need the North Star to find the stupid milk. This is the real life version of "Lost."

On this day,roving bands of red shirted Target employees are everywhere. I imagine them snickering at the glazed looks on the faces of befuddled shoppers searching for 100 calorie packs.

"Good luck finding the prunes,grandma"one may have muttered,I'm not sure..

What used to be a ten minute shopping excursion has become a pilot for a documentary on The Discovery Channel.

As I plant the flag at the register the cashier asks "Did you find everything okay?" and both of us break into fits of laughter. It's almost enough to make me shop at Jewel,but I'd have to win the lottery first.

In time, things will settle down,the fresh fruits and vegetables will be moved in and everything will eventually take on an air of familiarity. But til then,watch for me and my grocery sniffing canine "Swiffer" as we try to locate the baked beans.

There's Never Been A Pro Named Annti & Other Hawk Thoughts

Thoughts as Chicago prepares for a rare chamce at a championship

* There has never been a Chicago pro named Annti. I knew one but she was married to my Uncle Joe.

* Have you met the guy hawking the cheaper than list prices for team merchandise? They always surface in the post season and hardly ever seem to get in trouble. I won't even jaywalk.

* Target, THE store for everything has NO Chicago Blackhawks stuff. None. They have an aisle of Cubs stuff and an aisle of Sox stuff (both look untouched) but not so much as a Hawks handkerchief. A store spokesman tells me it's a corporate decision. A Chicago team makes a championship run as often as Donald Trump laughs. This might be a good money making opportunity but wht do I know?

*If a Chicago athlete was going to get 7 teeth knocked out why couldn't it have been Milton Bradley?

* Even though you are a Hawks fan and you know his name,whenever you read it you pronounce it as it looks....Byfuglien. (It's pronounced "Buff-lin")

* The Hawks are 4 victories away from attracting a better class of woman to their limo.

*Patrick Kane was the cover boy for the video game NHL 10. The jinx is over.

* Has the death of a team owner ever propelled a team to these heights before?

*The Hawks coach looks like the kind of guy who'd get a visit by 3 ghosts.But can he coach!

* Hawks fans miss having the team voice,Pat Foley, describe the Cup Quest

* The problem apparently has been that to win, Chicago teams should NOT use a ball. That's where the trouble starts.

*Each member of the championship team gets to take the Cup home for awhile.I'd hate to be the teaqm mate who gets it after Patrick Kane.

* Under no other circumstances can I see myself saying the word "Stanley"

* I know the Flyers staged an historic comeback in one of their playoff rounds and the threat can't be trivialized but I'm sure the Hawks are not about to let us down.They do everything well,they are in the process of peaking and it's their time. For once, a local team cannot and should not be doubted. They will be Champs by Bastille Day.

PIZZA BOY

RECENTLY the Tribune reported the story of a young man who won a $2,000wager by eating one pizza per day during the month of April. I found itboth fascinating and infuriating. It's infuriating because I reside with the one and only Pizza Boywhose gastronomic achievements in the field of pizza eating eclipsesthat of a man who devours but one pizza each day for a month...and onethat has only 30 days!

Pizza Boy,16, eats at least one pizza each day of the year,unless,heaven forbid, mom can't get to Jewel to replenish his stash. When thathappens his eyes glaze over and he becomes even more incoherent than theaverage 16 year old. Pizza withdrawal is not pretty to witness. Pizza Boy's story has extra toppings. He won't accept just any frozen pizza.Those of you who might be of the belief that all these products tastebasically the same will get an argument from Pizza Boy. He contendsthere is no frozen pizza like a Jewel Frozen Pizza. Plain Cheese. Whowould've thought that a grocery chain that devotes acres of shelf spaceto all manner of food and supplies would specialize in the manufacturingof the perfect pizza? To Pizza Boy,the making of his favorite food is a ritual. Hecarefully peels off the plastic and discards it anywhere he pleases (heis, after all,16) and then removes it from its cardboard bed ,handlingit as if it were a precious gem. Flecks of frozen cheese dot the kitchentable like confetti befitting the celebration taking place.

Twenty minutes before,the oven was turned on-- for no pizzamust be deposited until said oven is exactly at 450 degrees.Pizza Boychecks the temperature as meticulously as if he is in the lab splittingan atom (which he is more likely to do than split the cooked pizza.)Hereverently places the pizza onto the oven grill sans pan and sets atimer which will go off in precisely 11 minutes. He walks awayreluctantly,allowing the oven to work its cheese melting magic.

The tools of his trade are his portable tray,pizza cutterand CNN, all in place when the timer tinkles,signalling that his pizzahas met its destiny.With reverence he removes it from its heatedconfinement,inspecting it to be sure a bit of burning has taken placeatop it.His impatience won't allow much cooling time.He rests it on thecardboard from whence it came (whence???) and carries it with therespect afforded popes and presidents into the living room.His pizzacutter need only make one cut down the middle ,he lifts a half to hismouth ,takes a large bite and he is home in a land where a warmcrust,melted cheese,sauce and salt make life so much more worth living. This ritual takes place daily at our house and not just in April.The stained pizza cutter rests in the sink,the crumbs ,the foldedcardboard,relics of a once great meal are littered about in his wake. Imight give Pizza Boy the $2000 if he just starts to include cleaning upafter himself as part of this odd ritual.