Smart Cars, Dumb Potholes
To The Editor:
I've been driving the European version of the smart car in and around Chicago for more than a year and I agree that it is a terrific second car.
One problem not mentioned in the article is the bad shape of
streets.
For most of the year, it's just a very rough ride. But now, with the worst
potholes in recent history, it becomes a real challenge to dodge the holes
that would swallow up the small wheels--and maybe the entire car.
Howard S. Dubin
Evanston IL
What I Read
To The Editor:
Your account of Must Reads during the campaign left off two
I check every day: The Drudge Report and Chicago's own RealPolitics.com.
Whether he’s right or not, Drudge still drives the news cycle. And RealPolitics
has come a long way in the last few months as a link to the best political
stories of the day.
Best Regards,
Ed Marshall
CBS2 News Producer
To The Editor:
Please add to your list The Wall Street Journal and three conservative columnists: Thomas Sowell and Charles Krauthammer (a black and a Jew) and Lawrence Kudlow, an economist and host of CNBC’s Kudlow & Company.
Love,
Dad
Ethanol Law
In response to your story on curbing foreign oil, I would like to suggest a new law to allow American ethanol producers to import the same amount of ethanol from foreign markets –– without taxes –– as they produce domestically.
This would increase the amount of renewable fuel to twice as much as now. The profit of this operation would also enable the producer to enlarge the farmed area, since the other part of the investment would be covered by the profits of the imported ethanol.
Besides creating new employment positions, lowering petroleum prices and reducing the need to expand oil refining capacity, this would havc favorable worldwide consequences like:
- Reducing the greenhouse effect
– Helping developing countries
- Lowering petroleum prices worldwide
- Reducing acts of terrorism since there would be less financial resources
to sponsor them.
Giving renewable fuel the same treatment in terms of taxes as for the oil will show to the world the USA is concerned about the environment.
Gilberto Jamardo
Consultor de Gestão
Gestão de Capex
Sao Paulo/Brazil
The Neighborhood News
Good stuff about the Winnebago kids' paper "Neighborhood News."
I've always been thankful that my son was a huge daily devourer
of
newspapers -- at least the Sports sections and their acres of agate type
grist for the spiel mill -- but, yes, now it's hard to look at the business
and tell a kid like that that there's much of that ahead for him to get
involved with, look forward to in the way of a career...
In not-too-distant memory, I recall that when the Reader would
play softball
against the WBEZ team in recent years, Ira Glass would stand on the
sidelines -- acting as the radio team's "cheerleader" or shaman,
I guess --
slowly and methodically chanting, "You are working in a dying medium....
You are working in a dying medium...."
If I remember correctly, the last time out, his method worked: WBEZ chipped away at our huge early lead and eventually marched past us in the final inning, run after bloop-hit run trudging over home plate, until they finally led the victory march away to the local Dugan's Pub.
Anyway, it was great to read a paper with true vitality once
again. I'd
never known that "John picks his nose" before. Thanks.
Dave Jones
The Poetry of Trucks
Sometimes we get tired of reading the same old stuff. But Scott Jacobs’ piece about looking out the window at the signs on the passing trucks is a breakthrough, if I might say, in the art of literature. This is the raw transcription of unfiltered moment-to-moment life.
You have nailed true-life truck signs in their natural traffic setting, unlimited by a narrow-minded editor who might ask something spurious, like, “Hey, what is the point?”
Your trucks are not artificially organized in the yellow pages. Through you we see the trucks of Western Avenue as Adam, sitting on the rock in Eden, once saw God parade all the animals before him as he named them aloud. What you have done for Western Avenue trucks is Biblical or bibliographic or bibulous.
I once wrote a poem about passing trucks myself based on observing them pass in front of my father’s fruit stand on Taylor Street. I wrote it as a dialogue between me and my little brother Herman.
Hey, Herman, here comes a truck.
Yup, yup.
Hey, Herman, here comes anudder truck.
Yup, yup.
Hey, Herman, here comes anudder truck.
Yup, yup.
Hey, Herman, here comes anudder truck.
Yup, yup.
Hey, Herman, that was a lotta trucks.
Yup, yup.
Peter McLennon
TWB Saves World
Yesterday, when my 17 year old son swallowed his guitar pick and right after my husband took off with him to the hospital, I Googled the words, "Swallowed a Guitar Pick" to see if anyone had had any similiar experiences so that we could know what to expect.
After reading Elizabeth's story and a few others (And, hearing back from our GP), I knew more what to expect. (Elizabeth's, by far, was the most helpful in that it was nearly a blow by blow account of what they/we went through.) I gathered up all of the guitar picks in the house and headed to the hospital.
Our ER experience was so close to Elizabeth's that it enabled us to relax a bit more about the whole scary process. They even supplied us with the pick in a plastic bottle, just as Elizabeth had described.
I can't tell you how much it helped to know what to expect, though I know that the story was written for enjoyment instead of being meant as a tutorial for people like myself who have guitar playing stunt sons who think that they're indestructible.
My son is fine and we have pictures of the lovely blue pick that was stuck in his throat. It's a very expensive pick now, but we'll take that over the alternative. We're thinking of having it dipped in bronze and mounted as a monument to our son's extreme intellect.
Thanks again to you and to Elizabeth for writing/publishing the short story/article. Viva la internet!
Take care,
April Hilland
I Too Remember Field’s
I was brought up on Marshall Field's. From early childhood,
we made annual late summer trips to shop for school wardrobes and November
trips for Christmas shopping. I must have been about 5 or 6 when I first visited
Field's. I was entranced and never got over it.
We almost always went in on the train. The 20th Century Limited, the top train
of the New York Central, stopped in Elkhart in the morning and in the late
afternoon. We could ride in the club car both ways and get in a pretty full
day of shopping.
Mother could have been a professional shopper. She was fast, decisive and
thorough. She had excellent taste. She could also be indulgent. If I couldn't
decide between two garments, she would let me get both. In those days, our
purchases were always "sent," which meant that we didn't have to
lug lots of bags and bundles. I'm not sure how many stores still do that.
The pre-Christmas trip always meant the excitement of Field's
famous window displays, elaborate, fanciful and often motorized. I remember
reading somewhere that a whole year was spent in preparing the displays --
and each year's output was new and different. We had to walk around the entire
block to see them before we would even enter the store.
Lunch in the Walnut Room was part of the day. It was a lovely, big, traditional
room and there was always a fashion show during the lunch hour. During the
Christmas season, it was the setting for a huge, multi-story Christmas tree
with fabulous decorations, as I recall.
I loved the toy department with its huge collection of dolls, some of which
were destined to become mine, and the book department. I don't think Goshen
had a bookstore at that time, so being surrounded by all those books was nirvana
to me, as good as being in a library.
Sometime Mother would seek out other things not available in Goshen or South
Bend. I remember her buying engraved stationery, which meant she had her own
engraving block or whatever it was called, to use with further such purchases.
She would also buy Frango mints, still a delicacy. We had the first Italian
miniature Christmas tree lights in town and they came from Field's.
I got my own Field's charge account when I first started working (at Rand
McNally) and living in Chicago. Mother had trained me well. Over the years,
I could make an entire day out of a trip to Field's. I liked to start on the
top floor and work my way down, not necessarily buying something on every
floor, but just enjoying seeing the things on display.
Today, my niece Elizabeth works at Nordstrom's in Indianapolis
while completing work on her graduate degree. I don't know if she ever got
a chance to see Field's in its glory years. Today's "department stores"
are primarily apparel stores -- almost indistinguishable one from another.
While I mourn the demise of Field's as I knew it, I know that "life is
change." Over the years, I saw my favorite Manhattan department store,
B. Altman, close. But I always thought Field's would go on forever....
Marta Bender
Milwaukee
Remembering Bob Strauch
I would like to thank Dave Jones for his wonderful article about Bob Strauch. He really captured what Bob was really like right down to what his voice sounded like. I had known Bob for the 14 years that I have lived in the neighborhood. I still miss seeing him sitting on the bench watching the world go by.
I hope that this article increases public awareness that the homeless are people and not just the guy who sits on the bench. Thank you again. Great article.
Barbara Cohn
Co-Director
Irving Park Community Food Pantry
Gone Are The Eyes
Dave Jones' story, "Gone Are the Eyes," was superb. You guys are doing something really special here. Keep it up.
Glynn Young
Cute Story
cute man's deoderant story... i can really identify... i have worn aramis man's deoderant for years--i love it, and they always give good freebies when you buy it... i just recently got a couple of sticks of tommy cabana and i LOVE that too...
Bonnie McGrath
Fun Story
I enjoyed your scent story. But you need to look up the definitions of "pallet" and "palate."
Marta Bender
Author Response: In France, they sample fragrances with their palate. Here in America, the land of abundance, it requires a pallet to hold all our scents.
Funny Coincidence
What a funny coincidence. My son Dexter is now looking for scents. I had some old drakar noir lying around and said how about this? he was lukewarm. then he asked about my ralph lauren purple label. of course that was the one he liked (you know, the $60 stuff). so now he is splashing after shave all over at my expense (and as you point out, you have to buy it on-line or go to one of those fruity department store guys in the "mens' fragrances"departments to buy the stuff.)
Bruce Jacobs
Royko at the Goat
About your airing the "Royko at the Goat "video, I
can only say that as I listened, I first had the olfactory illusion of sitting
at the Goat in the days of smokes and beers. Listening to Royko talk 16"
ball, I could hear that noise the ball makes when a batter connects with it.
Not the effete sound of a
league ball, but the thrump of a true baseball -- the 16" er. It was
as exhilarating as being safe at first on a tight play.
I used to play softball for some public defender teams in a
women's Chicago Park District league. They pretty much stunk. The
women cop teams were better than they were. I was their ringer. Not
for money, but for beers and the acclaim because I could homers in
softball. They called me "Bambina." What glory days. Seeing Royko
brought it all back.
Royko might have been a kid talking about Santa Claus, for the
sheer
joy in his eyes. Oh, and to have a Wisconsin roadhouse/softball story
captured for the ages. You guys are geniuses. You are real
Chicagoans. Thank you for this spring tonic for the soul.
Barbara Iverson
Wow!
What a knockout! Judy told me to look at the site, and
I'm delighted to see this short. I'm Mike's oldest
son, David, and who the heck are you? And how did this
come to be? I didn't even know such footage existed.
Thanks very much for making and releasing it.
Dave Royko
A Crummy Day Made Better:
I was having a pretty crummy day (for a number of reasons) when I opened my latest copy of The Week Behind.
Sometimes I just click past it, because I'm too busy or too
lazy or.... well, you know. But on this particular day I took the time to
read every single item and it made my day a little better.
I now know of the demise of the Berghoff, which saddens me but gave me the
chance to reminisce about all of the wonderful calorie-laden meals I enjoyed
there before I moved to Hawaii (official state motto: No Strudel Anywhere!).
It also reminded me of The Italian Village, a place with waiters
every bit as grumpy as the Berghoff Staz Werkzeug, but with a spicier flair.
(An Italian Village waiter once refused to serve me chocolate milk with my
spaghetti “because they don’t go together.” )
I also took pleasure in reading about Elizabeth Station’s global trip
through her South Bend, Indiana grocery store. Forty years ago I used to live
in South Bend and spent many happy hours at the Farmer’s Market on Northside
Boulevard. It cheers me no end to know that it still exists.
And I laughed at the prospect of Scott Jacobs voting in the Holstein Park
ladies locker room; then when I read about his experiences with his home movies
I was reminded of the old Argyle Street Film Festival, an informal affair
where folks such as Jane and Tom Alderman (I think that was his name), Harlan
Hogan, Jim Parks, Felix Shuman and others gathered once a year in a local
Chicago eatery to screen their home-made 8mm films. My husband, director Brad
Bate, and I were always amused by the fact that what we did for a living,
other people considered a hobby.
Anyway, even here in Paradise during a heavy downpour, a ray of sunshine sometimes
comes from the least expected place. Time to go back to my work – but
first, a haiku:
The Week Behind gives
A brief respite from my job
Smiling in my mind
Aloha nui loa,
Kay Lorraine
Honolulu, Hawaii
To The Editors:
I really enjoyed your article on "The World In My Fridge." I think about the same issues quite a lot, so the article hit home with me.
As an American consumer, I feel conflicted quite a bit with what I bring home from the supermarket and superstores. I think there are implications with America being the "global CEO" and consumer that we haven't even begun to think about.
Recently, I was surfing a parenting website, Northside Parents Network. One parent asked what kind of favor would be good for her one-year-old's birthday party. At least five other moms replied with suggestions like "look at the Dollar store for inexpensive toys" and "the Oriental Trading Company has a great selection of cheap stuff."
First, why do one-year-olds need party favors? And guess what? We are contributing to pollution and the trade deficit - among many other negative things - when we buy stuff like that. Additionally, our kids are so bombarded with materialism they don't value things like party favors. So the cheap party favors that we agonize over just get thrown into the landfill along with all the other stuff we buy but don't need.
Wouldn't it be a better use of brain power to think about solutions
to some of the problems our generation faces (not to mention problems the
next generation will face because we're too busy shopping at Wal-Mart)?
Judy Deogracias
P.S. My suggestion to the mother was to make and give homemade playdoh as
a party favor. It's made in your own kitchen and biodegradable!
Haikus to the Editors:
People have been emailing me from around the country about the healing power of haiku. It seems that for many, the little poems are not only fun but therapeutic to create. Personally I’ve found that disturbing things you read in the newspaper are easier to absorb if you can process them as poetry. Like Iraq:
So there never were
weapons of mass destruction!
Okey-doke. War’s off?
Or the recent disclosure of the former FEMA director’s emails during the first days of the Katrina disaster:
“Brownie” likes haiku
too: “Is there anything I
need to do or tweak?”
Meanwhile, my friend Liz Peralta in Charlotte, NC had this to say about the CIA leak investigation:
What? "Scooter" Libby?
Should be indicted, all right
Get a big boy name
And this Zen-like verse came from Bill Cavanaugh in St. Paul, MN, where voters just threw out a Democratic mayor who endorsed Bush in 2004:
What is the sound – hey,
asshole, I’m talking to you!
– of one hand clapping?
From Tacoma, WA, John Lear sent a response to the “Hoosier Haikus” article:
Very fine and fun!
But oh the year behind us,
and the three to come!
How to face it all,
When everything's jodido?
Write on, friend, write on!
Mary Panke of Arlington, VA did, too:
Inches of your words
multiplied digitally
make new neighborhoods.
This week as I mulled over the poetic possibilities of the world around us, one thing was abundantly clear. It would take only a few added syllables to turn a protester’s sign, spied at a recent anti-Bush demonstration, into the most sublime haiku:
Would someone please just
give this guy a blowjob so
we can impeach him?
Hopefully everyone will keep writing haikus, op-eds, policy papers, iambic pentameter and whatever else it takes to spur change in our country. Thanks again for publishing them.
Elizabeth Station
RE: Showtime
Holy shit.
I enjoy reading The Week Behind and do so regularly. I like
the
neighborhood stories, the first-person culture stuff and what have you,
but I have to say this is the first time I read a piece and said, "Holy
shit."
This was an intense and intensely personal story that was like
a sock in
the stomach and a bear hug all at the same time. Whether or not it was
all true, mostly true, or not really true doesn't matter. It brought
home in a very immediate and effective way the vicious jumble of
emotions that come with caring for a sick love one.
Bravo to the author and bravo to you for bringing it to us.
Brian Joosse
Chicago
RE: The Health Benefits of Jell-O
Where I grew up in northern Indiana, Jell-O was serious business, an integral part of every family gathering. Gramaw Rogers' holiday meals included green Jell-O mixed with canned, Del Monte Fruit Cocktail. (The kids fought over the single red cherry in the mixed fruit.) No one ever ate her concoction but we all put a dollop on our overflowing plates with great ceremony.
In a rare break of tradition, Gramaw once combined orange Jell-O
and pineapple chunks in an attempt to keep up with the creative cookery of
her Betty Crocker schooled daughters-in-law. She proudly served her innovation
and the silence that fell in the dining room was
deafening.
When Grampaw finally caught his breath, he asked, "What
the hell is
this?". When the table-wide grumbling began, Gramaw stood a little taller,
her chin rose a little higher. I think I remember a soft Hurrumph. She still
had it. She still ruled.
So be very careful what you say about the Jell-O.
Respectfully,
Stella Ferguson
RE: Why I Love Sound
I read Bryen Hensley’s story about “Why I Love Sound”, but saw nothing in there about the importance of music in films. Is he just an audio mechanic, juggling sound effects, or does he recognize the role music plays in films?
Barry Weil
Manchester, New Hampshire
Bryen Hensley replies:
Had there been more time, the editor might have included the following observations I wrote on the train to work that, he tells me, arrived too late for the article:
For any given scene, there are limitless ways to create sound
for it. But in most cases there are two driving forces that one must pay attention
to:
1) The first is what is happening on screen. Sound supports picture. It's
just a fact.
2) The other important element in film is music. Most people, when they walk
out of a movie, talk about the music.When a sound designer looks at a scene,
the first thing he asks himself is “What is the music?” Pictures
and music define our range of options, especially when it comes to adding
mood to a scene.
3) To use Ric’s painter analogy, we can use either broad strokes or a fine tipped brush. What the music is doing will generally dictate which I choose (that, and budget.) Music almost always is our mood setter, so sometimes it is nice to just let the music carry a scene; and our job is to add a note or two of specific sound effects.
But sometimes in an action scene, the gunshot and car crash
and tire squeals sounds let picture drive music, and then it’s time
for music to get out of the way – and let sound designers do what they
do best.
Watch and listen and create, from our own perspective, it’s a balance
that moves the story forward.
BH