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Category: Tinker (Page 8 of 15)

Our first schnauzer

Creature Features: Senior Moments #687

October 4, 2018 / / 0 Comments

Last week, my wife’s youngest daughter was recounting her humorous story from spring break in Cancun. After she had gotten back home, she asked her mom for money, along with a plea of “please don’t ask why.” Years later, the truth came out about an afternoon at Senor Frog’s, where after dancing with a statue of the bar’s web-footed mascot, she accidentally broke it. Security personnel made her pay a fine, with threats of going to jail.  She barely put together enough money to get home, even despite the efforts of her friends to organize a party to raise bail funds in support of her cause: “Free The Frog Killer.”

 

 

That was her unforgettable Senor Moment, not to be confused with “Senior Moments,” the real topic of this post.  “Senior moments” often jokingly refer to memory lapses, but can seriously be the beginning of Alzheimer’s, certainly no laughing matter. Memory loss in most cases, is not serious, just aggravating, and maybe one of the first indications that we are indeed aging.

Since the aging process is so slow, the signs are never obvious. Others may see changes in you, as you notice differences in them. However, the best indications that time is passing and that we are growing older is through our children and pets. Since I see the children and grandchildren so infrequently, it’s the everyday experiences with our pets that provide my strongest references to growing older.  

Tinker, our 100-year old schnauzer, now needs a stroller to handle long walks. She’s taking Prednisone tablets, a steroid, twice daily that we hide in chunks of soft cheese. If it wasn’t disguised as food, she would spit them out. It helps with itching and painful arthritis that continues to slow her down. She can’t get up on our bed or the couch by herself anymore, stairs are a struggle, and the stiffness from inactivity every night makes the first outing every morning the most difficult of the day. She needs a walker to go with her stroller. Tinker has also developed a chronic condition called “dry eye” (keratoconjuctivitis sicca) that requires drops four times a day. Poor Tinker.

Tinker was the “Frog Killer’s” favorite, as they built a strong bond when she was living with us while finishing up her degree. (See Post #370). Watching the two of them together again during this recent visit brought back memories of the inexhaustible puppy that chased geese and incited a vigorous game of fetch-the-tennis-ball that once broke a window. The only thing that hasn’t changed is Tinker’s constitution that continues to make her “The Poopingest Pup on the Planet.” The steroids have only strengthened her appetite and the predictable by-product. However, squatting has become noticeably more difficult. Both my stepdaughter and her once playful pup are now 12 years older (84 dog years), and it made me realize my own inevitability. What will life for me be like in another 12 years?

In 12 more human years, I will be approaching 80, and will have certainly lost Tinker, along with even-more-ancient Frankie the cat, and probably Tally our 8-year old schnauzer. Frankie presumably has her “Senior Moments” in ignoring the location of the litter box, while Tally is also now on eye drops, her first sign of vulnerability. Like Tinker, muscle stiffness has slowed me down, and appears to be my most noticeable indication of aging. There is also the gray hair, wrinkles, and a few age spots…but who’s counting?

At least still youthful Tally still seems to look forward to her walks and responds immediately to the word “outside.” She is not the food hound that Tinker is, but still sits patiently in front of the refrigerator following our last outing each night in anticipation of our “Ham Time” ritual that for health reasons has been changed to turkey. (See Post #360). In a similar manner, my younger wife also gives me a “treat” of Vitamin D3 each morning with my egg, an effort to keep me her ageless and healthy travel companion. 

It’s a lot more fun to think back to those “Senor Moments” we all had when we were young, rather than contemplate the “Senior Moments” that lie ahead. Tinker often stares off into space, licks her lips, pants heavily, and stalks me for food. At least, I don’t seem to be getting hungrier as I age. It makes me sad to watch our pets change from happy active companions to slugs who respond only to food. Yes, they do still get excited when my wife comes home from work, but that’s partially because they also know it means dinner time.

 

 

 

 

Retirement is not without Hassles: Hometown Honey #664

September 16, 2018 / / 0 Comments

I ran alone this morning on a day reserved for dog activities. There were heavy rains most of the night and my wife is fighting a stress-related cold, so she and the schnauzers got a little extra cuddling time. When I left, Tally was getting a “tummy attack” and Tinker was frantically barking with jealous rage. I enjoyed the peace and quiet of the neighborhood. Next weekend, I’ll be running through the streets of Chicago in anticipation of our drive through Indiana.

Last night, we went to see “The Wife,” a Glenn Close bid for an Academy Award. The movie is all about writing, and the most memorable quote was “Writers must write.” I feel that same inspiration every time I sit down at the computer and stare at a blank page. I often have no idea how to fill it, but I start to punch keys, hoping that in the end it makes sense. Many times I start by recounting my activities, like a diary, aspiring to evolve into something more substantial. Retirement has given me the time to write what I want, when I want, and I consider that to be a privilege. There are no demands or deadlines on my work other than my personal goal of posting something daily.

I’m reading Rocket Men by Robert Kurson, envious that I’ve never gotten any of my writing published. It’s the tale of Apollo 8, led by fellow-Hoosier Frank Borman. I was glad to see that Gary, Indiana is known for more than just Michael Jackson. Borman’s bravery made it possible to walk on the moon, while Jackson perfected the moonwalk. We’ll pass through there on the Indiana Toll Road about this time next Sunday. As the lyrics from the The Music Man proudly proclaim, “Gary, Indiana, Gary, Indiana, not Louisiana, Paris, France, or Rome but… Gary, Indiana… my home sweet home.” My home sweet home is actually about 100 miles east of Gary, and was never made famous by a song, musician, or astronaut. It is, however, “The RV Capital of the World,” and home of Speedy Alka-Seltzer. Also, the Music Man wouldn’t have been a musical without the brass band instruments that are manufactured in the city of Elkhart.

Every time I would go to a baseball game in Chicago as a kid, we would pass through Gary. The first impression was always billowing smoke coming from the nearby Steel Mills. You could smell Gary before you could see it, so it’s no wonder that both Frank Borman and Michael Jackson got out of town as soon as possible. “Radio-Active Man” was probably more appropriate than The Music Man, considering the eerie glow of the surrounding skies. However, people who lived there saw a certain beauty in the colorful pollutants that spewed from the smokestacks, especially at sunset. It only goes to prove that regardless of where you grew up, there’s a certain pride of association. Don’t make fun of my hometown!

We’ve all had a “Hometown Honey” or have found our Hometown food to be the best in the world. You always have to have something “sweet” to make it worth going back. I’ve always found that visiting was much better than actually living there. To this day, I crave Elkhart’s own Volcano Pizza, my Hoosier Hometown Honey, that was always a sure incentive. With this low-carb diet that we’ve recently been sticking-to, I hadn’t had pizza for months until just the other night (and that was without the crust), so it’s no wonder that I’m thinking about Volcano this morning. I won’t be able to get “home” on next week’s trip, but we will stay the night in my wife’s hometown, about an hour southeast of Gary. My wife’s hometown pizza favorite is Nubiano’s, with Bruno’s just down the road. Speaking of favorite stops, as we pass into Indiana, we’ll drive by the Indiana Welcome Center in Hammond, Indiana (where the story takes place) that features a major Christmas Story display and the infamous flagpole out front with Flick’s tongue stuck to its frozen surface. I should be captured in perpetuity like Flick, with my tongue glued to my hometown honey, a Volcano Pizza. 

Hometown Honey

I’ve got to get back,
To my Hometown Honey.
Got to “hop” to it,
Make like a bunny.

I left her behind,
But want her back.
I think about her,
As I start to pack.

So close by,
Yet, a special find.
She’s all mine,
One-of-a-kind.

It is a love story,
But not what you think.
It’s not about a girl,
I say with a wink.

My Italian honey,
Is tasty not sweet.
Time to beat feet,
Chao – Let’s eat.

Sausage and Cheese,
She’s so fine.
Hometown Pizza,
Preferred way to dine.

She’s a perfect slice,
A cut above.
As you can see,
I’ve fallen in love.

Tempting Toppings
A Golden crust.
A bite of her,
Is what I lust.

Just out of the oven,
Heavenly smell.
Hot and delicious,
I’m under her spell.

I’ve searched the world,
There’s nothing like her.
The dough of my dreams,
Is my hometown lure.

Copyright 2018 johnstonwrites.com

 

Retirement is not without Hassles: Brisket #657

September 9, 2018 / / 0 Comments

We probably should have bought an extra seat for our bundle of Salt Lick brisket that we bought at the airport. My stomach was feeling a little better than yesterday, as I managed to eat the Thai version of steak & eggs at Sway, another Austin food favorite crossed off the list. With the brisket purchase, we’ll continue to dine on Texas BQQ all this week. Salt Lick is probably our third favorite restaurant choice for smoked brisket after Franklin and Rudy’s. Rudy’s makes the list because our dogs could dine with us on the picnic tables out back. Tinker goes crazy when I stretch out the word “Ruuuuuuuuudys.” She’ll howl with delight as she anticipates a few delicious bites. “Ruuuuuudy’s.” The “to go” bundle, is large enough to be disguised as a newborn or maybe Tinker herself for a ride in our new doggy stroller. (See Post #617).

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Austin is a wrap, after four days of food and friendship. It will be two weeks before we hit the road again. My wife was not happy with the fact we didn’t have a rental car. She felt cheated by not motoring by all her favorite shops and our old neighborhoods. I figure I saved about $150 using Uber, and probably even more by missing some of those stores. Also, the fact that I never really felt very good saved me a lot of driving. With Marriott Points for our hotel rooms and a companionship fare on Alaska Airlines, we were well under our $1000/day travel budget, making it one our most affordable trips.

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Tomorrow, she’ll be back at work, I’ll wear my retirement uniform, and Tinker will be reacquainted with brisket. It’s a spa day for the dogs on Tuesday, and I’ll pick-up the Ken Burn’s Jazz documentary at the library. Thursday will be “Date Night,” as board obligations interfere with tradition. “Leadership Meetings” will resume on Friday after a two-week absence, and “Movie Night” will return on Saturday. I also have plans to see an afternoon horror matinee that I received from Fandango as a birthday bonus. “A Simple Favor” is the name of the movie – a Hitchcock-like thriller.

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Yes, everything will be back to normal at the Johnston household, and “Banister World” will definitely get some attention. In the meantime, maybe an in-flight movie would be a welcome distraction on this four-hour flight. How about Bullitt with Steve McQueen?

Retirement is not without Hassles: Labor #651

September 3, 2018 / / 0 Comments

Labor Day is just another day of retirement for me, and little actual labor will get done. My wife has some back pains that make it feel like she’s in labor, and I hope she feels more comfortable as the day goes on. It’s already been a “Meaty Monday,” with dinner plans later that will probably not be vegetarian oriented. The dogs are thrilled that we’re home for the third straight day, and I pushed princess Tinker around the park in her carriage earlier this morning. It’s still “Trash Day,” but not a “Mail Day,” so some have the day off while others don’t. I am doing some laundry – if that counts?

We’ve made some dining plans for our trip to Austin later this week. We haven’t traveled on a Thursday since the trip to Wrigley Field six weeks ago, so I’ve been a weekday homebody for a relatively long stretch. We’ll be out of town two Thursdays in September, followed by house guests the following two weekends. I will even miss this year’s grape harvest, the one labor-intensive task that I annually volunteer to do. I hope this doesn’t effect my allotment of free wine? After all, I’ve been there for pruning, racking, and bottling, the other slave-labor activities that I typically perform for my vineyard friends each year. We made our plans to go back to Indiana long ago, knowing that harvest day varies a week or two each September. I will miss getting together with everyone, especially those that will come into Portland specifically to help.

In addition to my wife’s back pains, her 97-year old mother is not doing well, adding to the stress. She’s had a bad cold the last few weeks, and even with a doctor’s assistance hasn’t been able to show much improvement. I hope she feels better by the time we get back in Indiana, but some kidney problems are also a concern, and my wife has accepted the inevitable. She also has to go back to work for a couple of days before we leave for Austin. Fortunately, cooking is still a labor of love for her, after preparing special meals for both my birthday last Monday and for a friend last night. She still  has a few more Labor Days until retirement, and is constantly clipping out new recipes. I cook only one night a week and find it to be the most stressful thing I do (and usually not very well). She wins today’s Labor Day award, while I get all the rewards!

Creature Features: Tummy Attack #648

September 1, 2018 / / 0 Comments

My wife came into our bedroom this morning and our dog Tally was on her back on top of our bed, begging for attention. She suggested that I write something about it, implying that perhaps I spend too much time focused on our other dog Tinker, “The Poopingest Pup on the Planet.” Although both schnauzers are adopted, Tally has only been around half as long, so there will come a time when she’ll be all I’ll have to write these Creature Features about. Most days, Tally lays around the house like I don’t exist, just waiting for my wife to come home from work. When she hears the garage door go up in the evening, she springs into action. She loves the weekends and starts to get excited when my wife doesn’t get dressed for work, and she knows it’s time for a long walk; what we now call “Schnauzerthons” since princess Tinker has a carriage to ride in and I often push it while running. 

One of Tally’s endearing habits, that is very much like a cat, is asking for her tummy to be rubbed. She now calls her “Tummy Attack Tally,” and this is my poetic tribute to her:

Tummy Attack

For undivided attention,
She gives you a poke.
You can start,
With a gentle stroke.

Her ears perk up,
Her tail begins to wag.
There’s the subtle rattle,
Of her dog tag.

She growls to be noticed,
And starts to stretch.
She definitely not asking,
For something to fetch

She lays on the floor,
Her paws in the air.
Her stomach exposed.
As if to dare.

A puppy moan,
Her eyes open a crack.
She’s asking for,
Your hands to attack.

“Scratch me right there,”
She’d say if she could.
“A little bit lower,”
“That feels good.”

Rub it in circles,
Tickle my fur.
Some playful roughness,
She’ll gladly endure.

“Itch my soft belly,”
“My tongue can’t reach there.”
“You don’t know what it’s like,”
“To be covered in hair.”

It’s an invitation,
Not an invasion.
It doesn’t even need,
A special occasion.

Her eyes filled with need,
She’s posed on her back.
Tally just loves,
A Tummy attack.

copyright 2018 johnstonwrites.com

 

 

Creature Features: The Mooch #646

August 30, 2018 / / 0 Comments

I recently saw a You Tube video of a little dog that would stare longingly at its owner any time he went to put food in his mouth. The dog was there every time he went to the refrigerator or sat down at the table to eat. It reminded me of our Schnauzer/Poodle mix with bat-like ears, Tinker. She is always hungry and follows me wherever I go during the day, looking for scraps. Her dog bowl is always empty, and then she moves on to Tally’s food. I have not found anything that she won’t eat, and because she stalks me whenever I try to eat something, I’ve resorted to calling her “The Mooch.” She’s already earned the reputation as “The Poopingest Pup on the Planet,” and being a mooch is the reason why. Here’s another poetic tribute to our dog whose bottomless stomach is really nothing more than a doggy bag. 

The Mooch

Out of nowhere,
She appears.
At first you think,
“She’s all ears.”

She hears you unwrap,
And open food.
She’s a starving dog,
With an attitude.

Quickly at your side
Every time you cook.
Those needy eyes,
Convey “the look.”

Open the fridge,
And here she comes.
You’ve seen less greed,
From hungry bums.

A piece of meat,
Falls off your lap.
She doesn’t miss
A single scrap.

With every bite,
As I recall.
Around the corner,
Her hairy eyeball.

No need to look,
As you eat.
Chances are,
She’s at your feet.

Her persistence,
Will never stop,
Just waiting for,
A crumb to drop.

A land shark,
Without a dorsal.
Just anticipating,
The next morsel.

You sense her presence.
With each mouthful.
Then see her staring,
At an empty Bowl.

She licks her lips,
As you go to dine.
You know she’s thinking,
“That should be mine.”

The tongue comes out,
The tail starts to wag.
When we come home,
With a paper bag.

Yes we love,
Our furry pooch.
But as we munch,
She’s a Mooch.

What happens later,
There’s little doubt.
‘Cause what goes in,
Must come out.

Copyright 2018 johnstonwrites.com

Retirement is not without Hassles: Alarm #643

August 28, 2018 / / 0 Comments

I crossed off the first item on my list of “67 things to do before I’m 68,” as all of our windows have been professionally cleaned – inside and out. I add that “professional” distinction to emphasize that this wasn’t something I did myself. I simply supervised, and got the battery replaced in my smoke alarm as a bonus. I may have mentioned that last week the alarms in our house started to give off an obnoxious chirp, just as we were getting ready to go to bed. The dogs were scared to death and refused to come back in the house after their final outing, even with the “ham time” incentive. The beeping would stop just before I could determine exactly which smoke alarm needed a new battery. Of course, it turned out to be the one at the very peak of our master bedroom that can only be reached with fire department equipment. I finally got it to shut-off by taping a long screw driver to a extended broom handle while standing on a step ladder. I was somehow able to flip the battery to the ground, as all hell broke loose. All six alarms in our house reacted to their dismantled companion and screamed at me in retaliation. Finally, it was quiet, after I threatened to turn the power off. 

I suppose it could have been worse had it waited a few more hours for me to fall asleep. The next day I bought several new batteries and waited for the window-washer to show up this morning. Last year, he helped me take down and wash a couple of filthy, glass overhead light globes in my office. This year, he got out his extension ladder and changed my battery. I question the engineering that went into putting that smoke alarm in a completely inaccessible location, but I should be safe for another year. The dogs are still holding their paws over their sensitive ears. Tinker was literally in pain, while it was probably an advantage for me to be old and half-deaf.

I hope I don’t set it off while I’m trying to cook dinner tonight. I selected a familiar chicken-wing recipe, hoping to not create another mess in the kitchen. Last week, I used the grill just to be sure. My wife is often jealous that I get wings at Buffalo Wild Wings at every Friday’s “Leadership Lunch.” She liked this recipe when I prepared it last time for our Super Bowl party. I guess I’ll have to suffer with wings twice this week. Tomorrow, is the first step in preparing our garage for the new tank-less water heater that’s being installed, another item on my list. A second gas line is being added in the afternoon, so it will be another hard day of supervisory work for me. Hopefully, in a few weeks, my wife will get a super-heated tub of water for her morning bath, rather than a luke-warm start to her work day. Next I have to figure out what’s wrong with our security system that has apparently stopped working – just another hassle in retirement. At least tomorrow, she’ll have clean windows, a smoke alarm that doesn’t chirp, and hopefully not heart-burn from my spicy wings. 

 

 

Retirement is not without Hassles: Fossils #639

August 26, 2018 / / 0 Comments

As the sun sets over Lincoln City, I’m reflecting on today’s activities. I got my 12 cents worth out of this morning’s run and my wife found a fossil older than I am. I also spent some time writing a portion of this while sitting on a campfire log on the sandy beach. Whales were playing once again about 100 yards offshore, as the rolling waves collided with the shoreline. There is a wonderful healing effect that only comes with time at the beach, even though my comfortable retirement life isn’t exactly filled with stress. As I look at the photos my wife posted, it almost appears as if I actually enjoy the outdoors. 

Neither of our dogs were as active as I expected when turned them loose on the beach. Tally played in a freshwater drainage pond, while Tinker tried unsuccessfully to coax her to the other side. The hills were too steep for our escape-artist to work her magic. Tinker was content just being at our side. I was monitoring the world of sports on my phone, as technology prevailed over inner reflection. The Cubs, White Sox, Colts, and Bears all won today, a very rare team favorites sweep for me.

Lunch was at the Wildflower Grill and dinner at the Bay House. My wife tried to make it special with a candle on a scoop of chocolate ice cream, another violation of my low-carb “diet.” I’ve far surpassed my weight loss expectations, so a bit of Birthday decadence is in order. As a birthday surprise, she found an autographed Portland Trailblazers basketball at a nearby antique store, while she was out shopping for fossils at Prehistoric Rocks. To find something older than me was apparently easy in that shop, as they carefully loaded our trunk with her heavy load. I guess if we hit snow on the way home, I’ll get plenty of traction.

I often look for change on the ground while I’m running, so the dime and two pennies that I found is not unusual. Some find religious significance in rescuing coins from abandonment, citing the “IN GOD WE TRUST” message that money delivers. Others believe that finding a coin on the ground is a “wink” from an angel. Honestly, I just like finding things, or maybe it’s a fear of being penniless? Nonetheless, I always put it in my pocket for good luck. By the way, none of these coins were older than me!

Retirement is not without Hassles: Looking for Lincoln #637

August 23, 2018 / / 0 Comments

We’re getting ready for a weekend at the coast. This same weekend a year ago, I spent the night in a field between legs of the Hood to Coast relay. I’m certainly glad that I’m not part of the team this year, especially considering all the replacements they’ve had to add due to injuries. Somehow, I continue to run every day, completing 3,525 consecutive days this morning. I can’t tell you how lucky I’ve been to avoid foot and ankle injuries. Two friends have recently put themselves out of commission due to silly accidents, including a dropped barbell on a toe and a middle-of-the-night stumble over the cat. I’ve managed to run through some painful maladies, hangovers, colds & flu, coughs, smoke, rain, sleet, and snow to complete my daily mile. This morning my wife left me a note, warning that breathing the air was the equivalent of smoking nine cigarettes. I think she was hinting that I should reduce the cost-per-use of our treadmill. My eyes did burn a bit after the three-mile-plus route through our neighborhood, but the dedicated runners and walkers that I see every morning did not let the hazy conditions stop them.

Our cost-per-pet continued to go up after Tinker’s visit with the Vet today. PET.VET.DEBT. We got some more eye drops and another prescription of Prednisone.  Both of our schnauzers will be excited for a chance to run on the Lincoln City beach, especially Tally who’s frustrated with Tinker’s aches and pains. Rather than her weekly stroll to Starbucks, she’s forced to spend another boring day at home. To me, boredom is bliss, but to her even our weekend walks have changed with Tinker’s aging legs. The stroller won’t work well on the sand, so we’re anxious to see if Tinker can handle our stolls on the beach. Tally, of course, will chase the sea gulls, climb the rocks, and try to elude our watchful eye.

When I ran the television station back in central Illinois, one of my pet campaigns was called “Looking for Lincoln.” There were many historical areas in our coverage area that were named after Abraham Lincoln, who’s family homes were in both Decatur and Springfield, that it made a great tie-in for our central Illinois news focus. We did a series of vignettes in conjunction of the grand opening of the Abraham Lincoln Presidential Museum, and I’ve become quite knowledgeable of his life before and after the Presidency. Here in Oregon, we couldn’t be any further from Lincoln’s path from Kentucky into Indiana through Illinois to the White House. In fact, he never even visited the Oregon Territory, and once turned down an opportunity to become territorial governor in 1849.

So why Lincoln City? The name was actually chosen from contest entries submitted by local school children. The town was formed via a merger with the five original communities of Delake, Oceanlake, Taft, Cutler City, and Nelscott. Although Abraham Lincoln gave us the Pacific Railroad Act, and the Homestead Act, that both brought people to the state, and established “land grant colleges” like Oregon State University, it’s unclear why the students honored Lincoln in this manner? Tinker, Tally, and I will be “Looking for Lincoln” when we visit the area this weekend – he’ll probably be in the casino!

Old Sport Shorts: Poetic Baseball #632

August 18, 2018 / / 0 Comments

The Cubs are doing what they need to do in August – Win! They’ve been nerve-wracking, gut-wrenching victories verging on “Ugly,” but so far they’re somehow 10-5 this month. I prefer to call it poetic, referring to the two most famous poems in baseball history. First, there was David Bote’s “Casey at the Bat” moment where he actually did what Casey was expected to do, and there was joy in Wrigleyville. (See Post #626). Last night, it was a Major League record-tying 7 double plays, reminiscent of the days of the famous Tinker, Evers, and Chance infield (See Post #54) that inspired the poem “Baseball’s Sad Lexicon.”

It was not typical Cubs “come-from-behind” baseball these past couple of days in Pittsburgh. Two consecutive 1-0 road wins also has to be some kind of record, since these have been the only back-to-back shutouts all season for Cubs pitching. It was also not Tinker-to-Evers-to-Chance that brought home the “W” but rather Zobrist-to-Addison-to-Rizzo, Baez-to-Rizzo, Baez-to-Zobrist-to-Rizzo, Zobrist-to-Russel-to-Rizzo, Baez (4)-to-Russell (6)-to-Rizzo (3), Russell (6)-to-Baez (4)-to-Rizzo (3), and Bote (5)-to-Rizzo (3) to finally end the game. Seven-DPs have only been executed on two other occasions in baseball history, involving the 1969 SF Giants and 1942 Philadelphia Athletics. Both of those teams lost, so Kyle Schwarber’s solo shot in the second inning home run gave the Cubs the only seven-double-play-victory in history. Fly the “W” for Cubs starter Cole Hamels. Jon Lester had 8 strikeouts, Ian Happ homered, and there was only one double-play the night before for the exact same 1-0 result.

That many double plays in one game hadn’t happened in 49 years of baseball, just as Bote’s Ultimate Grand Slam a week ago was last done by Chris Hoiles on May 17, 1996 – 22 years ago, and Alan Trammel June 21, 1988 – 30 years ago: “Bases loaded, two outs, full count, bottom of the ninth, and down by three runs at the crack of the bat.” It’s been poetry in motion, watching the accomplishments of the Cubs in August. The month is only half over, as they continue their drive to win the Central Division over the slugging Brewers and streaking Cardinals. It will take even more heroics to win the World Series. David Bote, who has played a major role in this stretch in place of the injured Kris Bryant, has shown both offensive and defensive prowess. I saw him less than a month ago tie the game against the Diamondbacks in the bottom of the ninth with a center field blast, enabling Anthony Rizzo to win it in walk-off style.

It was that moment at Wrigley Field that I enjoyed with my 3 grandchildren, son, and nephew. The only thing that went wrong that day was that we couldn’t find our commemorative brick that my wife gave me as a gift eleven years ago. “3 Generations: Mike, Adam, Gavyn 9/10/2007. All three of us were in the stands that afternoon for an exciting 12-3 thrashing of the Cardinals. Gavyn was just a baby. Ted Lilly got the victory for the Cubs. Derek Lee went 3-5 and hit his 18th homer, while Aramis Ramirez was 4-5 at the plate and clubbed his 21st and 22nd round-trippers. My grandson Gavyn posed with the actual brick on our next visit after we located it in the Leo Durocher section along Clark Street. Last month, we wanted another picture of our brick with ten-year-older Gavyn, but due to all the construction the past couple years around the park, it was no longer in the Durocher section that had been relocated to Sheffield Avenue. I called the Cubs office to complain, and it took them about two weeks to find the brick’s new location. Unfortunately, we never got the picture, but the brick is now in the Frank Chance section. He is of course part of that poetic double-play 6-4-3 trio that helped win “back-to-back” 1907 and 1908 World Series titles. I feel our brick is in a better place now than enshrined with a guy nick-named “Leo the Lip.” 

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