Culture
An Open Letter To People In Their Twenties
At a breakfast joint last week in Des Moines—I buy all my suits in Des Moines—an oldish fellow came up and made conversation with our table. He started talking about how great it is to be old, saying that as soon as you turn 50, most of your cares fall away and life becomes a series of easygoing outings with grandkids, peaceful naps and (apparently) pleasant breakfast-table raps.
A glue-sniffer perhaps, but I desperately wanted to believe.
Then my own inner coot got to wondering: What would I tell very young adults about what life will be like in their forties? MORE...
The Family Reunion
In preparation for my wife’s family reunion, I spent four days fishing with my father-in-law in Canada where I sat in a boat all day listening to stories that went something like this: Your Uncle Paul’s cousin Annazette married a fella who works over at Rubbermaid. Nice guy. His father and I were in Troop 38 together at Marmion and he’s in an investment club with your brother Eddie. Well, they don’t really invest in anything. They just get together once a week to drink and shoot the shit. But anyway, they came up here fishing and he caught a bass in that bay over there. A very nice fish. A real beauty. MORE...
Thank You, Blackhawks! Thank You, Dad
Thanks to my dad, my brothers and I were raised on a steady diet of hopes and dreams of Chicago hockey glory. It showed up in our street hockey playing all the time. Every game... a game seven. The dinner bell ... the start of overtime. Next goal wins! MORE...
Chasing Chase
After Congress passed the 2009 credit card reform bill, I started receiving a wave of junk mail from my bank, JP Morgan Chase, informing me of my right/duty to re-authorize the overdraft protection on my checking account. MORE...
Should Autism and Asperger’s Get a Divorce?
I first heard the word autism in high school, probably around 1975 or so. When I became a psychologist (no, not specializing in autism) I came to understand it as a severe disorder that resulted in lives deeply and negatively impacted.
In 1995, my son Ben was diagnosed with autism so severe that when he turned 12, we placed him in a residential school because life at home was no longer… MORE...
The Conclusion: Fight Night in The Keys
The sun is setting in Mallory Square when I arrive for the main event, a perfect opening shot for Top Rank Entertainment’s broadcast of “Fight Night in The Keys.” Si Stern, the indefatigable promoter, is making the rounds of local radio stations with one last appeal for fans. The ring girls have arrived from his strip club "Teasers". All Carl Moretti, the Top Rank executive in charge, says he needs now is a good fight. MORE...
Part III: The Weigh-In
Sal Alessi couldn’t sleep. Something told him the digital scale Jorge Diaz kept in his room might be off, and if Diaz was even a quarter of a pound over the 124 pound limit, his “Fight Night in The Keys” would be over before it began. MORE...
PART II: The Pound for Pound Boys
The Hotel Key West where I am staying has amenities that can be counted on four fingers: a bed, a bar, a pool and a 24-hour Denny’s restaurant. A dozen or so Harley hogs sit outside in the parking lot with license plates from Michigan, South Carolina, New Hampshire and other points north. Inside the Denny’s, their owners are holding what looks to be a reunion for the cast party of Cocoon, giving rise to the notion Key West is blessed with two tourist seasons: daylight for retirement age hippies, after midnight for the party hearty. MORE...
PART I: The Sweet Life of Si Stern
So, first impressions of Si . . . he walks around his club (“Teasers”) with a big grin on his face, his eyes peeking out from under a baseball cap that says “Boxing’s Most Feared Manager.” One of his girls – there are 118 in all, a dozen or so always on call to dance – comes up and gives him a big kiss. “This is the most beautiful girl in the world,” he says. There are some who think Si is a bit daft. If he is, there is method in his madness, because his method tonight is to hug her back. MORE...
Hef’s Pad
Before I was employed by Playboy magazine I was hired as a designer (in 1970) by Playboy's Book Division. During that time Robert Crumb made one of his regular trips to Chicago to help Jay Lynch and me put together an issue of Bijou Funnies, and we
were invited to a reception for the psychedelic poster entrepreneur, Peter Max and his guru, Swami Satchidanada. This transcendental soiree was held in the lakeshore high-rise apartment of Paul Magit, a prosperous clothing retailer/meditator. The attendees were a variegated flock of well-heeled liberal functionaries, wealthy polo hippies, a retinue of hardboiled, whiskey-drinking Chicago newspaper reporters and a gaggle of scraggly young cartoonists. MORE...
JK: I know what would make my sore back feel better….. A nice big bowl of Mac ‘N Cheese!
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