Curmudgeon unsure about early voting

An old-time Election Day reenacted in Colonial Williamsburg

Early voting starts October 22 in Illinois. Perhaps it starts sooner in your state, perhaps later, but whenever it does, early voting is increasingly popular.

I'm not too sure about early voting.

I know I'm just one little, lonely vote -- and (largely because of my contrariness) nearly everyone I vote for will lose -- but I'd like my vote to count anyway.

I think of myself as a man of faith. But I just can't muster any real faith that voting downtown, or at the library, will somehow result in my vote being counted at my local precinct on election night. It's hard enough, somehow, to believe that my in-person vote will actually be counted.

I like the feeling of voting on The Appointed Day. It's a festive atmosphere for me -- maybe not as festive as in Colonial Virginia where Thomas Jefferson lost his first election by failing to provide liquor for the local electors -- a mistake he did not thereafter repeat -- but I can imagine people all across the country heading towards the polls on their way to work, just like me, making their voices heard. (And, as noted, usually drowning mine out... but, still....) I like saying hello to all the volunteers who stand in the cold or the rain or whatever, handing out their palm cards. I've been there. I wish them all luck.

By the way, even if you do wait, like I do, to vote on Election Day, don't wait to vote until you're on your way home. This tactic is fraught with peril... at least in Chicago. We had a mayoral election some years back where the CTA trains seemed to develop equipment problems during the evening rush, but only those headed towards neighborhoods that were likely to vote for a particular candidate.

Anyway, this morning I'm curious to know whether any of you who might happen across this post intend to vote early -- and why. Leave a comment.

I'll close with this: If it would make the robocalls stop -- if it would make the attack ads stop clogging the news -- then, you betcha, I'd vote early.

But it wouldn't.

So, really: Why vote early?

Getting up to go? Or getting up to get ready to go?

When my late father-in-law was ready to leave a family gathering he would stand up and announce (in his Cuban-accented English) "I am going!" And then he would walk to the door...

And go.

Just like that.

My father didn't fuss around any either. When he said he was going, he was ready to go.

I am the same way.

Every morning I get ready to go -- phone in my pocket, glasses in my jacket pocket or in my briefcase, sandwiches in the briefcase. Then I sit at the computer, sipping my coffee, reading the comics or checking here for comments or looking at Facebook. Long Suffering Spouse will announce, "It's time to go!" She may even stand up, though not always right away.

I will keep browsing online.

Why?

Because her announcement -- it's time to go, or, I'm ready to go -- means something different to her than it does to me. When I say it, I can walk to the front door and go. (This smooth progress may be complicated or frustrated entirely when the stupid computer decides to install updates in the morning, but -- thankfully -- that is not an everyday occurrence.) But Long Suffering Spouse will say it and then she'll begin gathering her papers -- where is my lunch? -- is my phone plugged in? -- did you see my hat?

There may even be a comfort stop. Regardless of what exactly she needs to do or look for, the fussing will go on for a few minutes at least. I try and guess when she's just about done. Then I close out the Internet and stand up grab my briefcase and walk to the front door. And I'll generally beat her there.

This aggravates her no end. In the car, on the way to the train, she will quiz me. Do you have your glasses? -- yes -- did you take your sandwiches? -- yes -- do you have your phone? -- yes.

I'm not prepared to say this is a male/female thing, although readers may have their own ideas on the subject. But I've noticed, in the evening sometimes, when Long Suffering Spouse and Younger Daughter agree to go for a walk, there is at least a 10 minute interval between "OK, let's go" and the front door. Both might decide on comfort stops. Where are my shoes? -- Are you bringing your phone? -- Don't you want to wear a hat?

But the reason I'm not willing to say this a male/female thing is that this pattern sometimes reverses.

Take Saturday night.

You'll remember from last Thursday's post that Long Suffering Spouse and I were going to a 25th anniversary party for our friends Steve and Charlotte. We were bringing Steve's old friend Carl, who flew in from Virginia for the occasion and would be spending the evening with us.

It was a grand affair. Steve has a large Irish family and no one went thirsty. I harbored ambitions of driving home, so I was pacing myself, but several hours into the affair, after the dinner had been served, our host, one of Steve's brothers, called us all out onto his patio (tented, no less, for the party) where someone had produced a microphone.

Alcohol and microphones are a potentially dangerous mix.

The next thing anyone knew, all the graduates of this South Side Catholic high school were gathered around singing their school fight song. Which meant that the microphone had to be wrested from them promptly so the graduates of that South Side Catholic high school could sing their fight song. Charlotte is from the North Side. She and her classmates (her bridesmaids of a quarter century ago) had to grab the microphone next and sing their fight song.

Then one of Steve's less shy cousins decided it was time to lead the entire assembly in song. The Notre Dame Fight Song. The South Side Irish song. Now Carl and I are singing along and Long Suffering Spouse is beginning to fidget.

The fidgeting got even worse when Steve's cousin launched into a medley of other Irish drinking songs and Carl and I began shouting out suggestions.

Finally, Long Suffering Spouse had had enough.

"I'm leaving," she said, and stood up. "You two can walk home."

And there would have been no 10 minutes of fussing here at all if Carl and I hadn't jumped up instantly.

We could stall for a few minutes saying good night to our hosts and the guests of honor and one or two others -- but, if we hadn't moved when the announcement was made, we would have had a long walk indeed.

So I ask you: Are you one who gets up to go -- or do you get up to get ready to go -- or does it depend on whether, well, whether you've started to sing?

When do the holidays end? An unscientific survey

When do the Christmas holidays end?

I've been reliably informed that the Chicago radio station that was playing Christmas music 24/7 since early November switched back to whatever its regularly scheduled format is on the Feast of St. Stephen (December 26).

I'm back in the office today. I expect that the holiday decorations at City Hall and the County Building will be gone today. Last week I saw workmen dismantle the Christkindlmarket that had been set up in the Daley Center Plaza before Christmas.

The City of Chicago will begin accepting Christmas trees for mulching on Saturday, January 7. The Catholic Church marks the Feast of the Three Kings on Sunday, January 8. I used to think that was the official end of the holiday season -- but the Allstate BCS Championship Game won't be played until Monday, January 9. The Magi will be well on their way back to the mystic East by the time that game ends. But how can the holidays be over when there are still bowl games going on?

Our Christmas tree might come down this coming weekend -- but it might have to wait a week, depending on what else needs to be done. Long Suffering Spouse returns to her classroom this Thursday. But Younger Daughter doesn't head back to school until coming weekend. Youngest Son doesn't start his second semester until after the Martin Luther King, Jr. Day holiday on January 16. How can the holidays be over when the kids aren't yet back in school?

When he worked for the county, my friend Steve used to consider King Day as part of the holiday season. Indeed, since Cook County offices are closed twice in February (for Lincoln's Birthday and Presidents' Day) and then again on the first Monday in March (for Casimir Pulaski Day), Steve used to say the holidays lasted until then (just in time, he might sometimes add, for the start of Chicago's High Holy Days -- the many observances of the Feast of St. Patrick).

So I'm uncertain. I therefore open the floor up for discussion. When do the Christmas holidays end in your opinion? And (if different) when should they end?

For want of a nail.... an Unscientific Survey about how we got in this mess

For want of a nail the shoe was lost.

For want of a shoe the horse was lost.

For want of a horse the rider was lost.

For want of a rider the battle was lost.

For want of a battle the kingdom was lost.

And all for the want of a horseshoe nail.

This morning the United States finds itself with its credit downgraded by Standard & Poors and the stock market is reacting just like startled sheep: running blindly in almost any direction. The markets are hemorrhaging. My Facebook news feed is lighting up with persons lamenting the loss of their retirement savings -- again.

Now, if you're inclined to maintain some perspective, you might realize that Standard & Poors is only one of three major credit ratings services. The other two, Moody's and Fitch, have maintained the United States' top rating, Moody's reporting today (per this Bloomberg News report) that, because of the American dollar's unique as a reserve currency, "the U.S. government can support higher debt levels than other governments.... Over time, the dollar’s role may be eroded, but we see no immediate threat."

Still, this is not a time for us to rest on our oars. Standard & Poors has fired a warning shot over the nation's bow: We'd better get our financial house in order.

In yesterday's Chicago Tribune, columnist Steve Chapman wrote that the recent FAA shutdown was caused by the Senate's unwillingness to go along with cutting a part of the Essential Air Service initiative, a federal subsidy for commercial air service between smaller cities, that was enacted in 1978 and was only supposed to last 10 years while the airline industry adapted to deregulation.

House-passed legislation providing funding for the FAA proposed to cut only $16 million of the $200 million program, eliminating subsidies for service to 13 cities, subsidies that can amount to thousands of dollars per passenger. In a time of debt crisis, a reasonable person might think that this would be an easy cut to make. But the Senate would not accept it, and the partial shutdown of the FAA followed. For Chapman, this illustrates the difficulty of making real cuts in the federal budget: "You can't cut the big stuff because it's too important. And you can't cut the small stuff because it's not worth the bother."*

This is a fine fix we've got ourselves into as a nation. But the kingdom is not yet lost. The rider may even still be on the horse.

The question is this: Can we figure out what nail was omitted from the shoe? What chain of events has led us to this stalemate?

All of American history is yours to mine as you create your theory. If your explanation gets too long, make it a post on your own blog and leave a link in the comments. Let's start a discussion here, people.

And, in the spirit of getting the ball rolling, here is my hypothesis. Naturally, there's a Chicago angle.

In the aftermath of the unhappy 1968 Democratic National Convention in Chicago and Hubert Humphrey's subsequent loss to Richard Nixon, the Democratic Party set up the McGovern-Fraser Commission to reform delegate selection processes. One memorable consequence of this commission was that the elected Illinois delegation controlled by Chicago Mayor Richard J. Daley's was challenged at the 1972 Miami Beach Convention by an unelected bunch led by maverick Ald. William Singer and the Rev. Jesse Jackson.

The stated reason for knocking out the duly elected delegates was that the Illinois delegation did not include an adequate proportion of women and minorities. The credentials committee agreed and the uncommitted, but duly-elected, Illinois group was thrown out in its entirety (including the duly-elected women and minority delegates) and the Singer-Jackson group (which was pledged to Senator George McGovern) was seated in its stead.

It made for great television; I remember staying up until 4:00am to watch.

But the 1972 Convention debacle was just the beginning of the mischief caused by the McGovern-Fraser Commission reforms. That Commission, I think, was the nail.

Even the linked Wikipedia article acknowledges, "One of the unintended consequences of McGovern-Fraser reforms was an enormous surge in the number of state party presidential primaries."

Primaries are huge business in the United States these days -- and extremists control the primary process in both major parties. The extremists are not just nominating presidents, they are nominating candidates all the way down the ballot. The state legislators who draw the new legislative maps are survivors of this process. And maps have been redrawn now three times since (and a fourth is upon us).

The insidious practice of gerrymandering was named for Elbridge Gerry, a New England Patriot who served as James Madison's Vice President. So the drawing of partisan maps is nothing new. But the map drawers are. And so are the computers that aid them in their polarizing task.

Of course, we can't put the nail back in the shoe the way it was originally -- and we shouldn't want to: Women and minorities participate in both parties now and that's a good thing. Besides, the health nuts would go crazy at the thought of any return to smoke-filled rooms. So my solution is open primaries. I want people to vote for the Democratic and Republican nominees in all races. I think this would have a generally moderating effect on the political climate -- and the persons emerging from such a process might be able to make the decisions necessary to provide the real reforms our beloved country so desperately needs.

That's my suggestion. What's yours?

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* The perceptive readers of this blog may recall that the FAA shutdown has ended and wonder whether the Senate agreed to the proposed $16 million cut in this dubious program. The answer, of course, in classic Washington style, is both yes and no. According to this August 6 AP story by Joan Lowy (the link is to the website of the Boston Globe) the cuts remained after a bipartisan compromise was reached:

But the bill also includes language that gives Transportation Secretary Ray LaHood the authority to continue subsidized service to the 13 communities if he thinks that it is necessary.

Lowy reports that the Democrats expect that Secretary LaHood (a former Republican Congressman from downstate Peoria, Illinois) will dutifully find that all of these subsidies are necessary after all.

Curmudgeon notes how wedding showers have changed

Long Suffering Spouse and I went to a wedding shower Saturday evening; the groom is the son of friends we've known since college.

It's a typical May in the Curmudgeon household: We didn't know we'd be able to go until the last minute; our niece's Communion, originally scheduled for the 7th, was mysteriously moved to the 21st at the last moment. Embracing the new plan, however, we printed out the greed lists Saturday afternoon before deciding which store we'd hit to buy a present.

I've called wedding registries "greed lists" since before I was a blushing bridegroom, but these have certainly changed.

Computers, and the ability to get the lists at home instead of only in the store, are part of it, but only part. The real change seems to be what's included.

We decided which store to hit and went over there forthwith. We found a set of casserole dishes that was on the list right away, but I wanted to add a little something else to the gift bag. "How about a corkscrew?" I suggested.

"They have one on their list, but that's not the right model number," Long Suffering Spouse responded, and looked again at the sheaf of papers in her hand. "And, besides, it's been 'fulfilled.'"

"Fulfilled?"

"They got it already."

"Oh." I looked around a little more. "Here's something no married couple should be without -- a rolling pin."

"It's not maple."

"Maple?" I asked.

"Yes," Long Suffering Spouse answered, consulting the list, "and it's not the right brand."

Now I can see that one can not have guests picking out china or flatware randomly. The bride and the groom have to select a pattern that they like. I can even understand that the bride and groom would be less than thrilled with appliances in assorted colors. But does a balloon whisk really have to be made by Kitchen Wiz? Does it really matter that the egg slicer be stock no. 23541 -- even when it bears an uncanny resemblance to the egg slicer listed as stock no. 23542?

Computers have made it too easy to list all sorts of nitpicky things. The happy couple might not really care if the Acme brand rubber spatula is substituted for the Uberkitchen brand. But who wants to take the risk?

The reason young men put up with wedding showers in the first place is that these are heaven-sent opportunities to acquire a lot of the "stuff" that the youngsters took for granted in their parents' homes. When a kid takes a shower at home, there's a towel. When a kid goes to sleep at night (even twenty-somethings sleep eventually) there are sheets on the bed. When someone needs a dish to put the leftovers in, there's one in the cabinet.

Though wedding showers are heaven-sent opportunities for the kids, the groom often has to go through the Other Place to achieve it. My wife's family had a "traditional" wedding shower when I was the groom. This was the cucumber sandwich, women-only, lots-of-ribbons-and-don't-you-dare-cut-one sort. The groom is trundled out at the end of these proceedings, ostensibly to rescue his bride from the hen party, but really to be inspected and patted and judged by the assembled womenfolk, some of whom are seeing him for the first time. Older female relatives pinch cheeks.

Long Suffering Spouse didn't much care for these types of gatherings either. When Older Daughter and Oldest Son married, we sponsored 'couples' showers. There was pizza and wine and beer and not a crustless bread triangle with an orange, gooey filling in sight. Our college friends chose to have a couples shower for their son, too, which was why I was along for the ride Saturday.

There wasn't any pizza Saturday -- this close to Cinco de Mayo, there was plenty of Corona and a pretty tasty buffet from a local Mexican restaurant. The party was in our hosts' backyard -- it being May, most people would not worry about frostbite. Life-long Chicagoans know better, however, and our hosts had thoughtfully procured a large tent and heaters. Long Suffering Spouse and I gravitated to the heaters forthwith.

The gift table was in our corner of the tent, too, and we were making book at our table about whether any of the tissue paper in the gift bags in front of the blowers might catch fire before the gifts could be opened (fortunately, this did not happen).

The gifts were in bags from Macy's and Target and Crate and Barrel -- all the places where the happy couple had established greed lists -- and it looks like they did very well indeed.

But not all of their requests were "fulfilled." And it's no wonder: At least, I can't imagine anyone buying a Playstation 3 as a shower or wedding gift -- and, yet, there it was on one of the greed lists. These kinds of devices certainly weren't on greed lists when I got married. (And not just because these kinds of devices hadn't been invented. I mean... there were TVs when I got married, but I don't remember anyone ever putting a TV on a wedding registry.)

I've been mulling this over all weekend now. Clearly, a Playstation 3 is not something essential to setting up housekeeping. But, then, neither are 12 place-settings of fine china. Yet, china would have been a perfectly acceptable gift.

Obviously, one or both of the happy couple enjoys games on Playstation. But whatever machine they have access to now must belong to someone else -- a parent, a roommate, a sibling. It would probably be used more than the fancy china.

So... having initially decided it was ridiculous and inappropriate, I now find myself torn. Is it appropriate for the bride and groom to request a Playstation 3 (or Wii or Xbox or whatever) or not? Readers, what say ye?

Curmudgeon conducts an Unscientific Survey about the Royal Wedding

On the Friday after Easter, a balding relic of an age gone by will marry a very pretty English girl at Westminster Abbey.

It is a sign of how little royalty counts any more -- even in England -- that the young couple couldn't even book the church on a Saturday.

Now, mind you, I'm happy for the kids and I wish them a long and happy marriage. But my republican (small-r) instincts are entirely on edge with all this "news" coverage of the forthcoming nuptials.

Yes, I understand that the news-gathering services are pleased to focus on a happy story for a change. It must be a relief for the chattering class to put aside the endless wars and famines and plagues and earthquakes and tsunamis and insane dictators for this event. But wall to wall coverage by every cable and broadcast outlet? I don't see how Balding Billy's marriage to Bonnie Kate rates more than a passing mention on the evening news in America.

See, I could have sworn we had a Revolution in this country to rid ourselves of kings and queens and "aristocrats" who think that they've got something over on the rest of us because one of their ancestors stole off to the no-tell motel with the reigning monarch. (Oh sure, many of England's hereditary titles were conferred for valor in battle, especially in more recent times, but an awful lot of titles seem to have been initially bestowed on the offspring of royal mistresses....)

I learned in school that the British Crown provides an apolitical symbol of national unity -- something that pretty much all Brits can rally round, whatever their political persuasion. The advantage of having a head of state separate from the head of government is frequently illustrated by comparison of the Crown to the President of the United States: Because the President is both head of state and head and government, no matter who occupies the Oval Office, the blood pressure of somewhere close to half the population rises every time he speaks -- even when he is trying to apply a healing balm to the body politic. And, besides, the English Crown is a big boost to tourism: People like to see the funny costumes and the carriages.

I can therefore understand that some folks in England might want to take time off to watch the pageantry. But in America?

And yet I've heard and read about people -- American people -- planning to take the day off of work to watch the wedding and attendant festivities on TV.

Why?

So I throw open the floor to you, Dear Readers. How much, if any, of the Royal Wedding festivities are you planning to watch... and why?

An Unscientific Survey: The eyes have it, or, rather, have had it....

It was not quite four years ago that I asked here about whether I should switch to compact fluorescent light bulbs at the Curmudgeon home.

Well, I did switch. As incandescent bulbs failed, they were replaced by CFL's. I still have a few left, but they're in fixtures that don't seem to support CFL's -- and there are few of these -- the light over the kitchen sink and a decorative bathroom fixture are the only ones that come to mind right now.

I'm wondering how long I have before I have to replace those fixtures. You don't see incandescent bulbs on the store shelves much anymore, do you?

I miss incandescent lights.

I sit under harsh fluorescent lights here in the Undisclosed Location. My desk lamp, which used to provide a warm, comforting incandescent glow in the midst of the cold fluorescent harshness, has long since been replaced by a CFL, too.

And my eyes hurt.

Granted, I'm four years older, since I began switching to CFL's, and eyestrain should become an increasing issue over time. But an association is forming, in my imagination at least, between incandescent light and my eyes not hurting so much.

So I put the issue to all and sundry who might happen upon this post: Have you noticed any increased eyestrain since switching to fluorescent lighting at home and away? Is there scientific evidence that backs up or refutes the association that I've made between increased eyestrain and constant fluorescent lighting?

Top TV courtroom shows? An Unscientific Survey

Ellee Seymour's comment to yesterday's post mentioned the new TV courtroom drama The Good Wife. The series is supposed to be set in Chicago.

I've never watched it.

I haven't watched most TV courtroom shows, in fact, and hardly any of the dramas.

The kids made me watch a couple of episodes of Law & Order within the past year -- and, yes, I know the show had been on for nearly two decades by then.

Part of my problem with TV courtroom shows is that they are totally unrealistic. For example, I may have watched an episode or two of Ally McBeal.

In my experience, lawyers never wore such short skirts to court.

Even the ones who could.

And I never did understand the "dancing baby" phenomenon....

I did watch a few episodes of L.A. Law back in the day.

Or did you also think of it as Hill Street Lawyers? That's how I thought of it.

With all the extracurricular activity, I wondered how anyone found time to practice law in California. And Arnie Becker was a sure bet for disbarment in any non-TV jurisdiction.

For me, these shows only cause trouble: Viewers get unrealistic views of what lawyers can do -- and how quickly they can do it. They learn to think of lawyers as rich... but they never show anyone trying to get out a bill -- or collect on it once sent. And nearly every problem, no matter how seemingly complex at the beginning, could be solved in an hour, usually with someone breaking down on the stand during one of those five minute TV trials. Then, when I can't resolve a blood feud or get millions for a soft tissue case not worth $5,000, the TV-educated client blames me.

I blame this man:

He did set the pattern.

Wouldn't it be nice to win every case? But does anyone else ever think of how awful it must have been to be Hamilton Burger? I do.

Oddly enough, my favorite courtroom drama isn't even set in the United States.

Leo McKern made Sir John Mortimer's Horace Rumpole a living, breathing, ash-stained, Chateau Thames Embankment-swilling flesh and blood role model for me. Rumpole of the Bailey occupies a proud place in my DVD library; I've read most of the books. I can not quote as readily (or extensively) as Rumpole from the Oxford Book of English Verse -- but I have been known to cite to the Bard when occasion appears.

Maybe I like Rumpole because it is impossible for me to gauge how unrealistic it may be.

My two favorite TV-lawyer shows aren't realistic at all either -- but they weren't meant to be. Neither were they dramas.

I was still in law school when The Associates had its all too brief moment upon the stage. Martin Short was in this one as a green associate; Sir Wilfrid Hyde-White played the senile senior partner. I remember laughing until I cried while watching this show.

Naturally, and probably because I liked it, The Associates was canceled after only nine of the scheduled thirteen episodes. Wikipedia says that the show has been re-run on Comedy Central and TV Land as recently as the 1990s -- but I haven't seen it since it's first run. I can't say if it really would be as funny to me now as it was then.

But my favorite TV court show clearly does stand the test of time.

Night Court has been rerun recently and I had the chance to see a number of episodes. These are just as funny to me now as they were when I first saw them.

And I've always liked Mel Tormé.

Now it's your turn. What TV courtroom shows are your favorites... and why? Ask your friends -- and tell them to leave comments, too.

The blog as a searchable attic: An Unscientific Survey

Our VCR broke last week. I guess it's a DVD/VCR, or it was, and I know these things don't last forever, but (to my increasingly unreliable memory) this particular machine seemed a rather new addition to the Curmudgeon household.

Talking it over with Long Suffering Spouse we agreed that I bought it and she wasn't with me when I did. That was as much as we did agree on. I thought Youngest Son and I bought it at Costco; Long Suffering Spouse was pretty sure it was at Best Buy, though it might have been at Target.

Youngest Son, as teenagers are wont to do, was sleeping while Long Suffering Spouse and I had this conversation, it being morning (when teenagers are usually dormant).

So we tried to figure out when the machine might have been purchased in relation to the TV. We were pretty sure the TV had come first. I refer to the TV that Oldest Son gave us as a gift... but was that last Christmas... or the Christmas before?

When Long Suffering Spouse left the room for a moment, I surreptitiously checked this blog: A ha! I'd written about that: It was just last Christmas. But, after searching, I noted I'd failed to mark the purchase of the VCR. Or DVD/VCR. Or whatever.

Eventually Youngest Son stirred (the college football games came on) and we were able to get his attention for long enough to answer the question of when the VCR... or whatever... had been acquired. "Easter break," he said, without taking his eyes off the TV screen, "this year." The tumblers clicked for Long Suffering Spouse. Oh yes, she said, that was when Younger Daughter had her wisdom teeth pulled. Long Suffering Spouse remembers everybody's medical procedures. (I checked this morning. My wife was right, of course -- although I'd written about the wisdom teeth being pulled I was apparently negligent for failing to anticipate the future import of the VCR purchase -- er, DVD/VCR purchase -- in my recitation of the events of the weekend.)

It's dawned on me that this wasn't the first time I've used this blog that way, checking to see when something happened, verifying the sequence of events, refreshing my memory.

Have you ever done anything similar?

Unscientific Survey: Do you read or scan online?

It wasn't the first time I'd read this, but I saw again over the weekend (this time in the Wilson Quarterly... in print) another reference to research which has determined that people tend not to read online -- not in the same sense that they would read a book or other printed material -- rather, they tend more to "scan" -- picking out words here and there, hand always on the mouse, ready to click away when the next 'ding' sounds, announcing the arrival of new email.

I know I prefer to read on the printed page. The screen is harder on my eyes. And... well... I do flit a bit, sometimes, while on line. I have to set aside time and make an effort to read longer pieces.

(And I wonder why I have only a handful of regular readers?)

Anyway... today... the floor is yours: Do you notice any difference between reading online and off?

Assuming, I guess, that you do still read offline.

Explain your answer.

(Quickly! Before the next 'ding' sounds....)

"Jon & Kate," Christopher Robin, and "mommy blogging": An Unscientific Survey

During my recent blogging hiatus, I may have stopped posting but I never stopped reading.

One article that I read, in Newsweek, was by Julia Baird, entitled Stealing Neverland, and subtitled "Parents, children and the wages of betrayal." The article appeared in the September 21 issue of the magazine (where I saw it).

I encourage you to read it.

Ms. Baird writes about a controversial British author, Julie Myerson. Myerson used to write a column for the Guardian called "Living With Teenagers." The columns were written under a pseudonym but someone figured it all out and her children paid the price in teasing.

Were that all, perhaps, it might have been alright: Look, she might have said, you were ostracized in school, but it put you through college. Although even that might not have been sufficient for the son who was dubbed "Mr. Three Hairs" from a column "about her kids sprouting pubic hairs."

But the end of the column was not the end of Myerson's revelations about her family. One of her children has had some serious troubles in his life and Myerson has written about that, too. An excerpt from Ms. Baird's column:

Undeterred, Myerson went on to write a darker, more dramatic and awful book about her teenage son's drug use, Lost Child, just released in the U.S. In it she claims that her son Jake became addicted to skunk, a particularly potent form of marijuana. She was forced to kick him out of the family home when he was only 17, she writes, after he lied, stole, got a girl pregnant (his parents paid for the abortion), and hit his mother so hard that he perforated her eardrum. The subtitle is A Mother's Story.

For this, Myerson has become one of the most vilified women in Britain. Her son says he feels betrayed, and told one reporter he wants to change his last name to Karna, after a Hindu warrior who was rejected by his mother.

Baird's column begins with the sad example of the real Christopher Robin, Christopher Robin Milne, son of A.A. Milne, who came to hate and loathe Winnie the Pooh and all the other denizens of the Hundred Acre Wood that your kids, and mine, so loved. Milne fils felt as if his father had robbed him of his good name and left him with the empty fame of being his father's son.

And in the last couple of days, of course, we have had a fresh eruption of the Greek Tragedy of Jon & Kate Plus 8 and Assorted Lovers on the Side. (Is that the current title of the show or am I misinformed?)

Of course, I've never seen even one minute of that show, nor will I ever, unless tied down and forced -- but it is impossible to not see articles about it in the press.

You have to wonder how those kids can hope to grow up normally -- to even survive relatively uninjured.

But all this makes me stop and think: Are we "mommy bloggers" hurting our kids by writing about them?

I include myself as a "mommy blogger" because I think the term has come to mean anyone who chronicles their family life -- although usually the chroniclers are women.

I have the cover of anonymity -- which I've said from the start was assumed to protect my kids from embarrassment.

Not that I can hope to do this completely.

As those of you with teenagers, or now ex-teenagers, know, teens are embarrassed merely by their parents' continuing existence. Publishing virtually anything about them in print or on line, where one of their own might see it, would presumably be mortifying. At the very least.

(And this even with the abuse they heap on one another daily with Facebook -- or even with their own cell phones -- injuring others and often themselves worst of all.)

Baird's column and the ongoing Jon & Kate debacle are both good starting points, though, for discussion: Mommy bloggers are doing on line what moms have done for decades -- centuries, surely -- over the back fences, at the grocery store -- after church on Sunday -- talking about their kids. Sharing the kids' struggles and foibles as well as their triumphs.

But now it's in writing.

And anyone can read it.

And it may be around forever.

So the question: How much online revelation is too much?

I'd like to hear from you -- and anyone else you can prompt to comment -- on this.

Taking a break from the news or avoiding reality?

During the week I make it a point to keep up to date on the news. I read a newspaper on the train; I have another delivered at home. During the day I frequently go online to check both traditional (i.e., "dead tree") news sites and news blogs. At night, as I've mentioned, I watch newscasts on at least two different TV channels. I try to keep informed.

The last couple of weekends, though, I haven't read much of anything in the paper or online other than the comics. My wife found a baseball trivia article in Parade Magazine yesterday, and she quizzed me on it, and I read a column or two, but no more than that.

It has not been an intentional boycott. But I've begun to feel close to information overload by the end of the week, and I seem to be reacting instinctively. I find myself catching up on Monday mornings to all the disasters of the preceding weekend.

It seems that mayhem, violence and destruction, war, famine and pestilence are all perfectly capable of proceeding without my monitoring them. I'm beginning to wonder if I should let all these unhappy events swirl on without me. Can a responsible modern person 'take a break' from the news -- or is this an unhealthy effort to further avoid reality?

What do you think? Do you ever purposely avoid the news?

Do you follow the thermometer... or the calendar?

I know it's June and, according to the Revelation of St. Albert Gore, we should all be sweltering in Chicago by this time.

But it's been downright chilly here, actually, since a warm rain on Monday afternoon.

Now, this is not another ignorant challenge to the Received Wisdom of Brother Gore; it's just that I've noticed a generational difference in the response to the recent unseasonably cool temperatures (according to the radio, it was 49° F at O'Hare when I woke up this morning):

Long Suffering Spouse and I are closing windows and putting on sweaters or jackets because it's cold. The kids are opening windows and turning on fans because it's June.

I don't always make it upstairs when I come home from work until I actually retire for the evening. Tuesday night, though, I struggled over to the stairs to take something up -- and I about froze to death halfway up. Youngest Son had the window fan running at high speed in his room. We're talking wind chill here, folks. I took my life in my hands and entered the boy's room.

(If you have, or ever had, a teenager, you'll understand what I mean by that last sentence.)

I turned the fan off and pulled it out of the window. The hard part was finding a place to put it in the debris field. But I got the window closed.

I didn't press my luck by trying to close the windows in Middle Son's room. At least his fan wasn't on. I closed his door, though, to try and contain the chill.

I don't think it's just us, either: Last night was the award ceremony for the sophomore baseball team at Youngest Son's high school. Some of the kids wore sweatshirts, yes, but nearly all were wearing shorts.

So my questions: Is this really a generational thing? Are you following the thermometer... or the calendar?

Could you pass a written driver's test?

Another reason to hate "pop quizzes": Youngest Son will soon apply for his driver's license; I don't know whether he will place out of either the written or "on road" examination.

But I saw an article on the Chicago Tribune website about a drivers' test offered by GMAC Insurance and it got me to thinking... and clicking. According to Mary Ellen Podmolik's article, Wisconsin and Idaho drivers achieved the highest average scores on this web-test (which you can access by following this link). But drivers in these states averaged only correct answers on only 80.6% of the questions.

Surely, I thought, I could do better.

As it turned out... well... I didn't do as well as I expected. Here are my results:

My 16 out of 20 right answers (80%) was only slightly better than the average achieved by Illinois drivers (76.5%).

On the other hand, I scored better than the average driver in all but six states... and the District of Columbia. (View the test results here.) So, as Bill Murray said in Caddyshack, I've got that working for me....

How would you do on this test? Leave your score (the honor system is in effect) in the comments. We'll therefore call this an...

Curmudgeon objects to early voting... what do you think?

My friend Steve's son was home for the weekend. He attends college out of state. When I spoke with Steve yesterday, I asked whether his son had taken advantage of the opportunity to vote early (early voting began in Illinois on October 13) or whether he was voting absentee.

Not only did Steve's son vote early, Steve told me, the entire family trooped over to the local library where an early voting site has been established and all of them voted.

I wasn't sure I approved of this, and I said so. Steve asked why.

It's one thing, I said, for a college kid to do this... because he or she isn't home on Election Day. Absentee ballots can get lost in the mail, going or coming, or might arrive too late to be counted. But shouldn't everyone else exercise the franchise on the appointed day?

Why? Steve asked again. He knew who he was voting for, he was fully informed on the issues and the candidates, and it would be extraordinarily unlikely that anything in these next couple of weeks would change his mind.

I can't argue with this... but I still have reservations.

First, voting on Election Day is something we all do together. Or we have done. Not everyone listened to Jack Benny on the radio... but people could walk down the street during the show on a warm Sunday night and hear the program coming from window after window. Not everyone watched Ed Sullivan when the Beatles appeared... but most of the nation did.

There's something to be said for doing things together... even if we will be voting differently... for different reasons. Will that sense be lost if you vote on Thursday and I vote on Sunday?

And, then, of course, comes my real objection: Voting early brings with it no relief from political commercials. If voting early would carry with it immunity from further bombardment by these... interminable... frustrating... mean-spirited... commercials, I might have been first in line on Columbus Day.

But Steve had an answer even for this:








I will give the idea urgent consideration.

In the meantime, what do you think of early voting? Have you done it? Are you satisfied that your vote has been recorded?

New respect for news bloggers -- and worries about the future of print

I had a plan. I had taken an interest in a local issue and I had corresponded with one of the attorneys handling the court case and I'd blogged about it on another blog under another identity.

The matter was up in court again recently and I thought I would go sit in on the hearing and blog about it again. I took careful notes, picked out a number of possible quotes to use, collected information about who was present and why. Yes, I thought, I would write a post that very evening and scoop the world.

Wrong.

One of the news blogs I follow daily had the ruling before I got back to my office: Someone had texted the gist of the court's ruling from inside the courtroom and three follow-ups were posted while I took the train home. That other blog had a link to the AP story about the court hearing before I sat down again at my computer to compose a lede.

I subscribe to the Chicago Tribune; I buy and read the Chicago Sun-Times every day that I take the train. I like newspapers -- but both Chicago newspapers are shriveling away before my eyes. The Tribune just launched a makeover that's trying to use larger photos and more color to cover up the shrinking number of pages devoted to actual news.

I don't see how newspapers can compete with the kind of instantaneous reporting that I recently witnessed firsthand. I suppose online editions will survive... or they might... if the publishers can figure out how to build a revenue stream that will replace print ads. But that's another thing I don't see happening: You and I use pop-up blockers and spam filters and all sorts of other tools to filter out what we don't want in order to zero in on what we wish to read. An ad here or there, or even ads here and there, may liven up a web page -- but a print newspaper has a news hole these days of what? 20%? 30%? Less than that, maybe, when special ad sections are taken into account.

A couple of the regulars here have ties to the newspaper world as well as to blogging. Just to name a few: Patti writes Late Bloomer Boomer, but her day job is with the New Haven Register. Linda's blog, Are we there Yet? is linked on the homepage of the Norwich Bulletin. Lois, of Home Fires, does a lot of freelance writing.

Is this the way it will go, then? Everyone can blog, but some blogs will build and build and become collaborative enterprises and replace (or largely supplant) newspapers as we now know them? Is the Huffington Post the future of "newspapers"?

As we struggle to the end of another long week...

Except that this has been only a four day week. I had Monday off, though I was in the office for a couple of hours -- probably longer on Monday than on Wednesday.

Why is it that "short" weeks often seem so long? Do we channel appointments, events, big plans to the "short" weeks thinking that, with the extra day, we'll have the stamina to get through them?

I am sure I could come up with a plausible-sounding theory about it if I stopped and thought about it for awhile. Except I'd probably fall asleep first.

So instead of coming up with something on my own, let me resort to an irregular feature of this very irregular blog... the Unscientific Survey: Do you, dear reader, find that "short" weeks seem longer oft-times than "regular" weeks?

And -- if so -- do you have a theory as to why?

Next we'll go for the early bird special at the diner?

I don't see what the big deal is. Middle Son went to see the 10:50 showing of the new Batman movie Friday night; Long Suffering Spouse and I went to a 10:30 showing of Wall-E.

Of course, we went to a 10:30 a.m. showing over the weekend, and caught no end of grief for it.

My friend Steve and his wife chided Long Suffering Spouse and me after Mass on Sunday for acting old. Sure, I said, playing along, and then (I told him) we went out to eat. Did you know, I asked as innocently as possible, you can get a big discount in some places if you go there before 4:00 pm? Steve eventually stopped kidding me for acting old and instead began giving me grief as the last of the big-time spenders.

Middle Son also accused me of being cheap. I prefer to think of it as 'frugal.' OK, yes, the tickets were four bucks apiece before noon. Why should I pay $9 or whatever the evening price is when I can see what I want for $4? Plus, I'm far less likely to fall asleep during the day than during the evening. Shouldn't that count for something?

But the real crime that we apparently committed, at least in the children's eyes, was in turning off our cell phones during the movie.

Imagine: We were out of touch for perhaps two whole hours.

We did turn on our phones after leaving the theater, at which time both Long Suffering Spouse and I were both treated to a two-screen message, ENTIRELY IN CAPS, detailing Younger Daughter's proposed plans for the day, plans that were in imminent danger of falling through because we had gone incommunicado.

Can I help it if she wasn't awake before we left the house? She made the choice to sleep in... we just moved ahead in our day without her.

And Middle Son left a message on our home phone telling us where his game was that afternoon and also complaining, rather pointedly, that we should have left our phones on.

But this experience raises a question: Is it now become a crime in America to be out of instantaneous phone contact at any hour of the day or night?

A book meme -- and a question

I swore off memes a while back, except for Heads or Tails, but Shelby asked me to do this one -- a book meme -- that she got from Jeni.

Seems simple enough... and I do always have a book... or two... going. So here are the rules:

* Pick up the nearest book of 123 pages or more - No cheating.

* Turn to page 123 and find the first five sentences.

* Now post the next three sentences.

* The fun begins - - tag some people to play along.

Well, I won't tag anyone... but I can do the rest of it because it prompts a question that's been much on my mind of late.

I've just been reading Robert Cooley's book (with Hillel Levin), "When Corruption Was King." Cooley was a Chicago lawyer who got involved with the Outfit. He made money, and lots of it, but he finally got disgusted with what he was doing and for whom he was doing it. He got so disgusted that he one day walked into the U.S. Attorney's Office and offered to flip. He wore a wire for years and his testimony was instrumental in putting several gangsters and corrupt politicians and judges behind bars.

From page 123, sentences six, seven and eight: "For the crews, bar fights were just another part of nightlife, like someone else might think of playing pool or seeing a show. The mobsters weren't the only ones in a bar looking for trouble. I got in a lot of beefs myself."

Just before reading Cooley's book, I read "Double Deal: The Inside Story of Murder, Unbridled Corruption, and the Cop Who Was a Mobster," by Michael Corbitt and Sam Giancana. Corbitt was, at one time, the chief of a police department in a Chicago suburb. The other author is a nephew of the guy you're thinking of.

I found these books extremely frightening. The people about whom Corbitt and Cooley were writing are extremely frightening. They had creative ways of expressing their displeasure. And we're not talking TV shows or movies here -- although what happened to the Spilotro brothers, for example, has been used as source material for at least a couple of movies -- we're talking real life... and, frequently, the end thereof.

I read these books because I was curious -- I remember the trials, I remember the murders, I know people who have met either Corbitt or Cooley or both. But I did not read these books because I wanted to be entertained.

I see nothing 'entertaining' about these allegedly real accounts -- nor do I see anything entertaining about the unquestionably fictional accounts of similar persons -- the Godfather movies, for example, or the Sopranos. Which brings me to my question: Why do people find this stuff 'entertaining'?

Holiday movie favorites: An Unscientifc Survey

Whilst sojourning at our home a week ago, Older Daughter's Boyfriend claimed not to have seen "Miracle on 34th Street". I immediately undertook to remedy this, although we were interrupted by the start of the Thanksgiving Day football schedule. Now that she knows, however, I'm certain that Older Daughter will take up the cause and make certain that he sees it all the way through.

And if he knows what's good for him, he'd better like it, too.

I know "Miracle" has been remade at least twice, but the original, with Maureen O'Hara, John Payne, Edmund Gwenn, and Natalie Wood, stands head and shoulders above the latter day imitations. In fact, I have arbitrarily assigned it the No. 1 position in my own Top 5 Christmas Movie list.

What a great movie: The lawyer's the good guy! Even opposing counsel (the prosecutor) is a good guy -- and so, too, the judge. (Hard to believe I'd like this, then, isn't it?) If you, like the Boyfriend, for some reason (perhaps you were raised by wolves?) haven't seen this movie, buy or rent it now.

The judge, by the way, was played by Gene Lockhart. He was June Lockhart's father. That would make him... Lassie's grandfather? (I wonder how young you can be and still get that joke. I probably wouldn't like the answer.)

Any Top 5 List like this is completely arbitrary and I'll probably disagree with it by next Christmas -- and maybe even this one -- but, if it serves as a starting spot for a stimulating discussion, why the heck not play along?

For no. 2 on the list, I recommend the original version of "Christmas in Connecticut" starring Barbara Stanwyck and Dennis Morgan.

The plot twists and turns agreeably until the principals get together, as they must, in any good comedy.

But, for me, the movie succeeds because of the performances of the wonderful character actors, such as S.Z. "Cuddles" Sakall and Sydney Greenstreet. Yes, they were both in "Casablanca" as well (my nominee for greatest movie of all time), Sakall as Carl, the German headwaiter, and Greenstreet as Signor Ferrari. And Greenstreet was Kasper Gutman -- the Fat Man -- in "The Maltese Falcon". It's Sakall who steals the show in "Christmas in Connecticut" as Uncle Felix, who isn't Barbara Stanwyck's uncle at all.

If you buy or rent this movie, I'm pretty certain you'll agree it's "hunky-dunky."









No. 3 on my list is "The Bishop's Wife", with David Niven, Loretta Young, and Cary Grant.

Our kids were confused by this one, when they were younger, since they knew that Catholic bishops do not marry. They got over it.

It's hard to imagine, but David Niven is actually ruffled in this movie, even a tad flustered, as an overstressed bishop who prays for help in erecting a new cathedral and receives instead Cary Grant -- who seems to have a very un-angelic interest in Loretta Young. This may be Long Suffering Spouse's favorite Christmas movie. (Another of her favorites would be "My Favorite Wife," with Cary Grant, Randolph Scott and Irene Dunne. There's a great role for a judge in that movie, too -- played by Granville Bates -- as well as a Christmas ending... although it doesn't end on Christmas....)

The principals can't be upstaged in "The Bishop's Wife," but the supporting cast sure tries. I particularly like Monty Woolley as the old professor and James Gleason as Sylvester, the cab driver. Gleason you may remember as Max Corkle in "Here Comes Mr. Jordan" (later remade as "Heaven Can Wait") or for his parts in two great Frank Capra movies, "Aresenic and Old Lace" and "Meet John Doe".

"Meet John Doe," by the way, is a very dark movie, especially by comparison to Capra's "It's a Wonderful Life" -- which isn't on this list, but only because it's been done to death. "John Doe" seems to have slipped into the public domain, just as "Wonderful Life" did a few years back. That's when it was on one TV station or another all night long on Christmas Eve.

And just to contradict myself, I'll nominate as no. 4 on my list, a movie that is shown continuously every Christmas Day -- all day long -- "A Christmas Story".

Consistency, I remind you, is the hobgoblin of little minds.

I admit, however, that it wears on me by Christmas afternoon... when the kids are watching it for the sixth time. But still -- the first three or four times you see it every year -- it's great.

There are so many other wonderful Christmas movies, but I may have overstayed my welcome in the Golden Age of Hollywood... so for No. 5 I'll go with Bill Murray in "Scrooged".

That's Carol Kane here with Bill Murray. Kane plays a most unorthodox Ghost of Christmas Present.

I think of "Scrooged" as a cross between "Newtwork" and "A Christmas Carol." And no antlers were actually stapled on any mice during the course of the filming of this movie.

Now I turn it to you: What unforgivable omissions have I made? What are your top 5?

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Note: The still from "The Bishop's Wife" was taken from this site which offers stills for sale... presumably without the 'www.carygrant.net' overlay.