A Night of Art and Wine

With these chilly and snowy evenings, going to a wine bar and experiencing a flight or two of wine sounds like a good idea. Staying close to home and tasting a bit of local culture sounds like the perfect way to celebrate the holidays.

Stop by Salt Creek Wine Bar in downtown Brookfield - the selection of wines is formidable - champagnes as well and a great beer list - while you are relaxing and sipping, stroll around the room and look at the cartoon art of Charley Krebs.

From 2004 to the present, Krebs has been the Chicago Jazz Magazine monthly featured cartoonist.  You may also have seen his work in the Suburban Life from 1976 through 2006. 

Having been invited to show his work in many venues, he also will be displaying his work at Peace Center Berwyn IL with an opening reception on Saturday, December 11 at 7:00 p.m. There will be a question and answer session about cartooning including performances by guitarist Paul Halvey and cartoon-inspired poetry by Steve Cesario.

A perfect way to spend the evening in the western suburbs.  Enjoy the holidays!

The Season of Thanks

My Thanksgiving rose

The Season of Thanks




When I was a kid, I had a friend, Judi Hoffmeyer, who was one of six children. I loved being at their house, as there was always something going on. It was a different life in the 50’s and 60’s: we kids were pretty much left alone playing outside all day, coming in for lunch and returning home in the evening when the streetlights went on at night. So, when one of the dads asked us to do something with him, it was a special treat.



Each Thanksgiving morning, Judi’s dad would take Judi and a couple of her siblings and me on a hike in the forest preserve. I was thrilled to be included in the event. We would meet up on a frosty Thanksgiving day, bundled up, walking shoes tied tightly and hike on the trails in the forest near our homes. We crunched the leaves, breathed in the autumn smells – we could burn leaves in those days – we felt the chill on our faces, the sun shining brightly on the trail – it was fall at its most perfect. It is one of my fondest memories of Thanksgivings past – and I am sure Mrs. Hoffmeyer was happy to have everyone out of the house.



As it was then, this time of year is still one of my favorites. I love it when it gets cooler, when the clocks get turned back and the leaves are all gone from the trees. This fall, in particular has been spectacular. The sunsets have been magnificent, casting russet tones all over the neighborhood. The leaves, though not burning any longer in the streets, still hold that special scent of autumn and they still crunch under my feet.



Me? I am so thankful for my family, my husband, my kids….my friends, my dog, my health. Backing up into my driveway the other day, I caught a glimpse of pink out of the corner of my eye. Among the brambles, the rose hips and the yellowed leaves, there it was again - my Thanksgiving rose!

Glitter pumpkins by Lizzie

Happiest Thanksgiving.









Things that Need to Come Back

I hate to sound like my parents, but I often find myself saying, "Yup, things are really different - we used to ....."

I am not alone - Lesley M.M Blume started a website in 2007 where she would talk about things that needed to stage a comeback.  That idea resulted in a book - here are some of the more popular items that people would like to see come back:

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/lesley-m-m-blume/25-things-that-need-to-st_b_779005.html#postComment

Bike-beer-burger - Public House Elmhurst

We had the first official frost last night. The outside temp read 30 when I got up this morning. It might be time to hang up the pedals for this year.




But before we do, let me tell you about our latest biking adventure to the Public House in Elmhurst. We like to take advantage of those nice warm summer-like fall days and when we heard the weather forecast a few weeks ago, we put aside the yard work and went for a ride.

The Salt Creek Trail on a beautiful autumn day

We got on the Salt Creek Trail at Brainard – we really do like to leave from home, no driving in the car at all if possible – and went under the tollway, onto Canterberry and crossed York Road, rode in front of the church at 31st and York, then continued on past Butler and the ‘public’ Butler along York Road.



We left home about 2:00 in the afternoon and the days were getting shorter, though we figured we had plenty of time to get to our destination, eat and head back home.



We crossed 22nd at York and rode along Cermak Rd and crossed the tollway. We found ourselves in a very well-maintained forest preserve running right alongside Roosevelt Road. What is amazing is how often we travel these roads and streets by car and here we are just a few feet away from the busy roads surrounded by the beauty of nature. Wildflowers were in abundance – bright lavenders and white flowers lining the path – when you see no electrical or phone wires, it is like you are stepping back in time – right in the midst of the busy, burgeoning suburban Chicago network of roads.



We followed the trail along the creek and came upon Eldridge Park. There was a wedding going on in this lovely setting – photos being taken with nature at its finest in early fall.



We continued on the trail – still Salt Creek Trail to its end. We were on the corner of Madison and Fairview in Elmhurst when the trail stopped. We took Fairview north about 5 blocks and got on the Illinois Prairie Path and followed that trail west about one half mile. Then we found a continuation of Salt Creek Trail. We took that north one block to Wildwood and we traveled through a couple of lovely residential streets and came out on St. Charles Road – right across from the Public House at 683 St. Charles Road. The phone number is (630) 834-8989. ‎

The Public House 633 St. Charles Rd., Elmhurst, IL

Don’t get me wrong: even though my husband studies the maps, there is always a slight (sorry, hon) question as to whether we are really going to find our destination. It is a delight when we do – and he really hasn’t missed yet – I just don’t want you to think that these trips are without a little (a lot?) of angst on my part. And usually the mileage is a little off. By the time we arrived at Public House, my odometer read 7.1 miles, a healthy half journey.



We settled into a booth – a little late for lunch, a little early for dinner. By now, though we had to watch the clock, as we figured dusk set in about 6:15. It was about 4:00 when we ordered.



We had the burgers of course – they were great! We gave them a 2B rating – 1B is bike-able; 2B is better; 3B is best and 4B is bodacious. They were hearty, the bread was very good, very soft and the burgers came with really good fries. Beer was cold, lots of draft beers to choose from.



The bar is large with seating and lots of big TVs for sports viewing – there also are banquet facilities and a large dining room. Plenty of room to spread out, have a party, have a beer with folks at the bar. A comfortable spot – a new discovery for the biking adventure.



The ride home was just as picturesque – on the way home, I was able to enjoy the scenery even more than the ride out. It was getting chillier and dusk was upon us as we came upon the public Butler course on 22nd – see photo of “Sunset on Cermak”.



We made it onto the final stretch of the bike path just as the sun was sinking down into the horizon – a great ride on one of the final days of Indian summer.








Sunset Over Cermak











Saturday in the fall

Walking on a Saturday morning, out early. The temperature is in the lower 40’s, the sun is shining – the air is crisp and it smells like autumn, save of course the smell of burning leaves. I do miss that!




The sounds I hear are rakes scraping against the concrete as the homeowners get their leaves out to the curb; I hear a cheer erupting from the stadium at Nazareth – Saturday morning means frosh, soph or junior varsity – must have been a touchdown or a great interception. The cheer goes on for a while. The wind is blowing slightly, nothing like this past week. Neighbors are out picking up branches and twigs that blew down from the trees.



Taking a walk in the forest preserve, entering the Salt Creek trail with my dog – amazingly all the sounds of the neighborhood, the traffic are all gone. It is so quiet and peaceful right when you reach the bridge. You can hear the water rushing under the bridge, hear the birds, the ducks splashing. We walked a bit into the woods, my dog stopping every second to sniff some new exciting smell. He gets burs caught in his fur, but the trip is worth it.



As we are heading back, my dog stops in his tracks: there not 50 feet in front of us, is a big buck. He stares, we stare, Mitch doesn’t know what to make of this huge – what is it? he thought – it’s not a squirrel, his favorite prey, must be a dog – the buck seemed to bow his head slightly, then walk softly through the leaves and the brush onto his destination.



As we headed back into the neighborhood, there were two forest preserve employees pulling up in the truck. I mentioned that we had just seen a buck.



“Yeah, that is the eight-pointer – we just saw him on 31st.”



The sights, the sounds, the smells of autumn in La Grange Park.

Homecoming

Last Friday, as I was frantically trying to finish an extremely tedious mailing (I have a mailing service - Alpha Omega) someone rang the doorbell.  I figured it was more mail to do.  I reluctantly answered the door as the gentleman was walking away from my front door.  I noticed that he had a camera in his hand.

"Hi - can I help you?"

"Oh," he said, "I used to live in this house and I thought I would drop by and say hello.  The house looks great."

I explained that I was tied up at the moment, otherwise I would certainly invite him in.  He nodded, seemed to understand and said well, thanks anyway. 

I returned to my dining room table, where I was in the process of stuffing and sealing 3,000 envelopes where my husband was working next to me, helping me.  I briefly told him of my conversation and he said, "You should let him in."   He had good reason to say what he did:  when returning to his grandfather's house in Wheaton with the original plans, upon knocking on the door, hoping to be invited in, the owner said, "Thanks," took the plans and shut the door.    So, I thought to myself, he's right.  I should invite them in.

I walked to the front door and was able to catch the man and his wife just as they were getting back into their car.

"Folks, if you would like to come in......" I yelled from the front porch.

His face lit up - they came back up onto the porch and walked in the front door.  He looked around.

I gave them the tour - the entire house.  He told me where he kept his toys (in the bottom drawer of the breakfront in the dining room - his brother kept his toys in the next drawer up) - how they used to hide in the closet beneath the attic stairs that is in the bathroom.  He recalled having taken baths in the tub and where the window was - with a slanted roof.  The tub is still here, original to the house - it is stamped on the bottom 'December 19, 1908' -

As the couple walked through the house, the man's love of his former home was evident.  Though the house has changed a lot through the years, the bones are still the same.

Bob Bowman and his wife Nancy were in town from California for his 50th high school reunion from Lyons Township High School.  - Class of 1960.  Bob Bowman and his family lived here from 1946 until the mid 1950's.  Bowman was four years old at the time and the family moved when he was fourteen years old .  This house is still important to him.

"You know," he said as he was walking down the porch steps, "we moved close to here when I was a freshman in high school - just a few blocks away.  But that was just a house - this always was home to me."

A Trip to Platteville: Summer of 1985

It was the summer of 1985. As usual, my stepson Andy would be visiting for the month of July – he was 15 and I was always looking for interesting and new things to do when he came to town.




I read that the Chicago Bears were having their summer camp at Platteville, WI. That sounded like a fun thing to do. My son, Sam was 3 that summer and my brother, Rob was living at home with our folks – time for a road trip.



Rob was supposed to find out when practice started, if we could get in, where it was exactly – I picked him up early on a beautiful July day and he got in the car and said:



“Good news, bad news – the bad news is that practice starts tomorrow. The good news is it’s a good day for a drive.”



I figured he was right – once we got the trip in motion, might at well follow through. So, we hit the road.



And it was FAR to Platteville. I am thinking to myself, “I can’t believe people do this,” as I was barreling down the highway.



We arrived at last at University of Wisconsin, Platteville campus. It was pretty deserted, except for a couple of guys sweeping the grounds outside the stadium. About 17 years later, my son would play on this field for Augustana College.



“Hey, how you doing? Nothing much going on today – practice starts tomorrow. There are only a couple guys in there throwing the ball around.”



Despite the large orange signs that said “Authorized Bear Personnel Only” I was not deterred. I told the group that if anyone stopped us, we could just say Sam had to go to the bathroom.



We walked into the stadium and found that the custodians were right: there were only two lone guys throwing the ball around. Those two guys, however, were Jim McMahon and Kenny Margerum.



My brother played ball at Madison a few years before this, so he went out for a couple passes from McMahon. We talked a bit, laughed about the season coming up and I finally got up my nerve to ask if I could take a picture of them with my little guy.



Sam was not the friendliest of toddlers: if someone would say hello to him at the Jewel where we shopped regularly, he would get mad and demand “Who is that? Why is he saying hello to me? I don’t know him.” So, I was a little concerned about how he would take to Jim and Ken.



The two players were great with my son – talked to him asked him how he was doing, laughing – I took what I hoped was a great photo – who knew? This was 1985, no digital cameras.



As it turned out, the photo was great. I sent it to both McMahon and Margerum with a note saying “Here is a photo of the next Superbowl quarterback and wide receiver plus a future All-American.” I never heard anything in return, but didn’t really expect to.



Since we had been in Platteville, and Superbowl Sunday was to be on my son’s 4th birthday, I clipped every single article throughout the season, taped every game (I have to get those converted from VHS tape!) and kept every Royko, Bob Greene, anything from the year.



We all know what happened on January 26, 1986. The Monsters of the Midway had their way and took New England to task to the score of 46-10. It was a fabulous year, one that is still talked about as possibly the greatest championship ever.



The photo has been hanging in my laundry room/office since that summer. I had it in the back of my mind that I would have McMahon sign it one day. (I would love to have Margerum sign it too) I would read about his appearances, most were golf-related and I am not a golfer – others were charity events and I didn’t want to pay $250 for a place at a table among other people seeking his attention. I did read that he had his 50th birthday party at a club in Chicago recently and if you gave $50 for his charity, you could get in. I seriously thought about going downtown for that, but decided against it – again, the crowds would probably have been too great to catch a few moments of his time.



Then last week I read that Jim McMahon was to be at Binny’s in Highland Park and would autograph a photo or some other memorabilia for the first 250 people in line. Here’s my chance.



My husband drove to Highland Park – we arrived early. The session was to be from noon to 2 p.m. last Sunday, the 26th. We got there at 10:00 a.m. as the doors were opening and I was number 16.



Most of the people in line were autograph hounds – seekers – getting autographs for profit. I had the real thing – a real photo taken 25 years ago.



When it was my turn at the table, I showed him the photo and said, “I have been waiting 25 years for you to sign this.”



He took the picture in his hands, said, “Oh, my God – that takes me back.” I rambled on about how it was my son in the picture and that it was his fourth birthday when we won Super Bowl – Jim then asked what my son’s name is – I said, “Sammy” –



And now that photo is back hanging in my laundry room – a little more complete.