Cubbie, You Will Be Missed

I want to take a few paragraphs and mention someone many of you probably never met... A man who I didn't know very well either, but who wore his heart on his sleeve, and his favorite team on his jacket.
Norman "Cubbie" Kaiser was at least 90 years old when he died over one week ago. He had lived through the Great Depression, several wars and 90-plus years of the Cubs not winning a world series. The Cubs were his favorite team. Even as he aged, he showed up at St. Joe's Hall everyday to drink some juice, say hi to his friends, and get everyone signed up for the next bus trip to Wrigley Field. In the summer, he wore a windbreaker jacket that drown his scrawny frame, but proudly displayed the infamous red and blue logo of his hometown team. Sometimes he wore a baseball cap. In the winter months, he wore red and blue t-shirts under his heavy coat covered with fresh snow.
He met me about 4 years ago when my 88 (then 84) year old Grandpa decided to buy me a drink, since I turned 21. Needless to say, after a few hours of driving around from the Moose Lodge, the American Legion and then to St. Joe's Hall, I was feeling tipsy. Actually, I was downright drunk, but he just kept ordering me cranberry and vodka cocktails -- telling every bartender that it was my birthday, and to "make it a good one". I was trying to hang in there, but it was only 10am. It was in this state that I met Cubbie.
I commented on his Cubs jacket, and started giving him my opinion on all the ways that Dusty Baker needed to improve the team. Surely this would be the year that they won a World Series, I told him, if Dusty would just take my advice. I thought I was making a good point, but in reality, I was probably ramblilng on and on and slurring my words. But Cubbie let me finish.
When I actually fell silent, my grandpa had given up on paying attention and struck up a conversation with the bartender. Cubbie just smiled and said, "Even if they never win another World Series, the Cubs are worth the trip every time." That was it. No opinion about the manager, or the players, or bitterness about the years that they could have, and should have, made it all the way but didn't. Just a satisfied grin for a team that he loved, who had never rewarded him with a World Series win for all his years of loyalty. It wasn't about winning to him. It was about a pure love for the game and a team steeped in history and superstition.
2008 will mark 100 years since the Cubs won their last World Series title. Since then, a goat has cursed Wrigley, a man named Bartman has been exiled from Chicago for catching a foul ball and thousands of fans have lost heart. And even though I'd love to see the Cubs bring home that trophy -- this year especially -- I can imagine Cubbie cheering them on, no matter what, from a bleacher seat in the great beyond, holding peanuts, cracker jack, a scorecard and an Oldstyle draft, root root rooting for the Cubbies.

Realistic Valentine's Day

If you are a hopeless romantic, this link might not be for you. A friend of mine here at the paper designed some e-cards for Valentine's Day with a slight twist... They are G-rated, and very funny! So open the link, click, and maybe send a few! He's hoping the more hits he gets, the more of these projects they will let him do...

http://www.orlandosentinel.com/features/lifestyle/orl-vcards-pg,0,3924417.photogallery

I have 3 blogs in my head!!! Just need a few minutes to get it all down in the next few days... Stay tuned!

Tummy Time Article

Anyone with small children, or who knows someone with small children, should check out this article on the importance of tummy time.



http://www.orlandosentinel.com/features/health/orl-tummytime08feb05,0,6449269.story

Home, Away from Home?

Pardon the narrative tone, I've been watching a lot of Grey's Anatomy on DVD since getting rid of cable...
When we are kids, we look at what our parents have and make one of two decisions: 1) we want the exact same life when we grow up or 2) we want something different (better?).
In the first scenario, we are comfortable with our surroundings. We like the life our parent(s) have established for us, and we want the same someday. People live healthy, happy lives following in mom or dad's footsteps.
The second choice involves a bit more of a balancing act. With change, comes instability. With success, comes some guilt. With distance from family members, comes a longing to have them near.
And as much as I want to say that I fall into the second category, there are days when I find myself living a life just like my parents.
Sure, now they live in the hometown where they met and fell in love in high school, but they traveled the country for 16 years of their young adult lives. It wasn't until they felt that their family was finally complete, and that their own parents needed a bit more attention, that they bought the big white house with black shutters and about 100 oak trees. It would take a few more years before they added the two car garage, and gave in to having two dogs, a deck and hardwood floors. As much as they wanted a life different, and maybe more exciting, than the one in which they grew up, home never left their hearts.
So people can pat me on the back, and say that it is so admirable that I moved all this way, and that now I am living alone (with Goldie, of course), and that in a few months I will taking on single motherhood so far from my family. They can make it sound like I am my own woman, with thoughts and dreams beyond what my parents envisioned.
But aren't I just doing exactly what my parents did? Aren't I just trying my best to meet people, and make friends, and challenge myself a little more each day? Yes, I love that the cashier at Target speaks to me in English, but speaks to the person behind me in Spanish (not so in MC). But I also miss warm June nights on the pier, when couples walk hand-in-hand not saying anything at all, and waves push gently against the cement. I love (can not stress this enough) that today was Feb 3, and I walked outside in a tank top and flip-flops and was neither hot nor cold. But somedays I wish I could see a yard covered in snow, and my Dad starting my car for me so the ice would melt before I had to leave for school. I like that there are any number of friends that I could call or see any time of the day here. But I miss my Mom.
The point is that whether our own childhood is one we want to remember or forget, there is a part of us that never lets it go. It either comforts us, or propels us to never revisit it again.
I want my daughter to dream bigger than I ever have, and go places I never will. But I also hope that my life is enough of an influence that someday she will look out her window in New York, or Paris, or Kalamazoo, and say "I miss my mom." Because I know I'll be missing her...

Rambling on at the keyboard...

Just some random thoughts...
If it's true that "you're not fat, you're pregnant," then is part of my baby growing in my face, arms and butt?

As heard in an Aerosmith song, "Life's a Journey, not a destination."

No, Barack Obama is not a Muslim. He is a Baptist.

Why is it that I can remember to pack a perfectly healthy lunch, balanced with protein, vegetables and dairy, and forget to grab it off the counter when I head out the door?

Does my dog really know that I'm having a baby, or does she just think mommy is bulking up for the winter?

As heard in a Carrie Underwood song, "And now he's wrapped around her finger, She's the center of his whole world. And his heart belongs to that sweet little beautiful, wonderful, perfect All-American Girl."

I told a colleague the other day that she was "such a blessing." De ja vu from my Mom telling my brothers and I to "be a blessing" (aka -- shut the heck up) when we were throwing tantrums in public.

When I tell you I work at the newspaper, why is it automatically my fault that your newspaper delivery person keeps throwing your paper underneath your car?

As heard in an Alicia Keys song, "Life's too short to waste one day."

Should I be offended when someone says, "I'm a dork. I live at home alone with my dog..." lol (if you're reading this) ;-)

If you ask for your burger without a bun because you are on a low-carb diet, it does you no good to eat 3 loaves of our bread (Outbackers, you know what I mean).

The coolest thing about living in Orlando are the 5-year-old girls from Indiana who ask you if you are friends with all the Disney princesses.

Why do I feel convicted when I watch Family Guy, and Stewie makes fun of his dog, Brian, for supposedly working on his "novel?" (Stewie: How you uh, how you comin' on that novel you're working on? Huh? Gotta a big, uh, big stack of papers there? Gotta, gotta nice litte story you're working on there? Your big novel you've been working on for 3 years? Huh? Gotta, gotta compelling protaganist? Yeah? Gotta obstacle for him to overcome? Huh? Gotta story brewing there? Working on, working on that for quite some time? Huh? Yea, talking about that 3 years ago. Been working on that the whole time? Nice little narrative? Beginning, middle, and end? Some friends become enemies, some enemies become friends? At the end your main character is richer from the experience?)

The snow covered buildings in downtown Chicago are best enjoyed in a red pea coat, cream-colored gloves and a really fluffy scarf, while drinking mint hot chocolate (snowflakes swirling around your pink face).

The only (repeat) ONLY time it is allowed to eat two fully-loaded Chicago style hot dogs is from the bleachers at Wrigley Field.

Hot wings have never smelled so bad...

People aren't "liberal" or "conservative" -- their own experiences place certain issues closer to their heart.

Place a dryer sheet in your pocket. It will keep the mosquitoes away.

Don't be too hard on your pets if they want a lot of attention -- how would you feel if you sat at the door all day, just waiting for one pet or kind word from your best friend?

And finally... (per Veronica) -- love even those people who anger you because it isn't our call to judge, or hate. Being kind keeps your heart open to the opportunities around you, instead of closed off in rage...

Newly Single -- But on the Market?

Just this week I realized that there is a whole other tier to my life that is new that I had completely overlooked. Sure, the baby thing is a "biggie," but subtly accompanying the growing belly and excitement about my little girl is another "new" me that I had overlooked until the past few days.
That fact is that I am single. Duh, right? Sure, I know it. And I've been enjoying my own personal space, especially in dealing with how much I've been changing. But I had been ignoring one big component of being single -- the fact that I can talk to, hang out with and date whoever I want.
Dating has definently been the LAST thing on my mind, but a few days ago, it reared it's unexpected head during a conversation with a stranger. He was attractive, and young, and a professional success. It seemed that there was no end to what we had to talk about... And before I could think about it, he was asking if I wanted to go out to dinner. I wrote down my number, and told him to give me a call. No big deal, right?
But as I laid in bed that night, rubbing cocoa butter on my tough shell of a stomach to prevent stretch marks, with my feet propped up on a stack of pillows to prevent swelling, as I drank a glass of tomato juice with my prenatal vitamin to prevent indigestion, a thousand new questions and doubts entered my mind.
What had I done? I had given my number to a complete stranger, just like I had so many times in bars and clubs when I was still skinny... The difference, of course, is that this time I was sober, and probably looked a bit on the chubby side to him, and I had failed to mention the fact that I was over 6 months with child. What if he really called? Then what? Should I tell him I was pregnant? Should I just accept a dinner invitation and act like my bump was a beer gut?
What if he was a con-artist who just wanted to kidnap me and steal my beautiful unborn child and sell her to gypsies in Thailand?
And just like turning your back on that incoming wave on the horizon, a new realization engulfed me and swept me off my feet into the current.
It would no longer be just me -- single or not. Maybe I am free to date whoever I want, but the questions will forever be weighted. Instead of "I wonder if he likes to go to the movies?" I will be asking, "How would he look with a pink diaper bag over his shoulder?" And the truth is, any overnighters will be out of the question because it will take a long time before I trust anyone -- stranger or not -- around my little girl. It certainly is a change from the days I woke up to a living room full of people on the couch I had never seen before in college (hey, we lived 10 feet from the most popular bar -- it was a crash pad).
Still, it's flattering and somewhat liberating to know that I can accept those offers, and that there are guys out there who will make them. And maybe, just like this baby has been such an unexpected joy in my life so far, someone will pop up in my life and surprise even me.
But just being cute is no longer a date-able quality. There are two girls' happiness I have to consider.

Leaving Comments

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