Loretta Swit

Loretta Swit, who was nominated for ten Emmys for her portrayal of Major Margaret Houlihan on M*A*S*H,  winning two, has died. She was 87.

RIP

Book Smart, But . . .

Why yes, yes I do have a doctoral degree.

Yes,  I'm also the guy who used a garment steamer on his shirt while he

 was wearing it this morning, creating a painful burn on my belly. 

 Why do you ask?

Memorial Day 2025

This dog certainly feels the day was relaxed and peaceful.

It was a very chill Memorial Day for me and Lisa too. As Junie's sleepover wound down, we slept in until late in the morning.  After I had a serious but loving online convo with YaYa, Lu came home from her weekend trip to meet her boyfriend's Mom. She and her BF chatted about it with Lisa and I for awhile before they left for the night. 

Lisa and I then picked up my MIL and ran some errands. I took some window screens into the hardware store to replace them; bought some drill bits from Harbor Freight; Lisa returned and replaced sandals; we picked up a new wax warmer from Marketplace; and stopped at Culvers for a scoop of the flavor of the day. 

The MIL stayed for dinner while Smiley installed new window blinds in the dining room.  JJ stopped by to visit Lisa, and after she left we watched an episode of Dateline.

A very nice, quiet day for us all. 

Peter David

The comic book world lost a legitimate Great yesterday with the passing of writer Peter David.  He was 68.

David was a prolific author,  spanning several titles,  but his 12 year run with the Hulk was legendary. But don't limit his talent to that medium alone. He was an excellent prose author too, with a style that flowed so naturally it made me jealous.

I'm infinitely proud that books I read and loved in the '80's, the Photon series, were in fact written by David himself (although under the pen name of David Peters.) In my opinion,  that just cements the fact that I had good taste even as a kid. 

RIP sir. 

A Smiling Huckleberry

It's pixelated because I had to Zoom in from a distance,  but I loved this goofy look on The Goodest Boy.

Ollie has Passed Away

 Oliver, the 18 year old cat we adopted right before New Years Eve, passed away overnight. 

He had been sick for about two weeks, suddenly refusing food, or nibbling at it without much enthusiasm. A weight loss was noted, and Lisa bought him liquid meal replacements for cats, designed for weight gain. For the last week I've been feeding him with a syringe each night. A few days ago one back leg began to fail him; on Cinco De Mayo both back legs stopped working. 

While affectionate, he was not overly fond of *requesting* affection. That night, on the 5th, he demanded to be petted and cuddled and even nipped my hand when I stopped for too long. It was clear he knew the end was coming, and he was afraid. It broke my heart. 

On the 6th he tried and failed to get off the bed and use the litter box, and Lisa, sadly, made the right decision by scheduling a euthanasia for 11am the next day. 

She let him remain on the bed tho, throughout the day he would shift from one spot to another, sleeping almost the entire time. When I went to bed for the night, on the couch, he was twitching in his sleep. 

Lisa returned from an overtime shift at about 330 or 4. He was awake and alert, and she spent some time petting him before drifting off to sleep.

At 5:30 AM she woke me up. "Danny, I think he's gone." I went and checked on him and rigor mortis had already set in. He had avoided the euthanasia appointment by seven hours, and died at home on the bed next to Lisa, some time in the 90 minutes after she returned home. 

In my mind, I know he waited for one last goodbye with her. He loved spending time with Lisa. 

Smiley buried Oliver in our backyard shortly after six, with most of the house still asleep. 

We had Oliver for only 129 days (12/30/24 - 5/7/25) but I do not regret adopting him. He was a loving cat that was loved in return, and brough a lot of happiness into our lives in that short time. Man, it was good to have another gray and white cat in the house. 

RIP Ollie. You were grand. 

RIP Mr. Eggener

The same day I heard about Ms. Kusch dying, I was told my 7th grade teacher, Mr. Eggener, had also just passed away. Here's how I remember him, with a smile, glasses, and a mustache. 

I hadn't seen him since 1989, at my sister's graduation, but according to his obituary photo he really leaned into the facial hair over the years. He looked good. 

 

If you take the time to read the extended death notice below, you'll see what was evident to his students, even if we weren't privy to all the details listed there: he was an intelligent, fun loving guy who devoted himself to his family, and to the causes and hobbies that he believed in. 

He started working at St. Adalbert's partway through 7th grade, when his predecessor, Mr Anderson, was fired. I liked Anderson, but I quickly recognized Mr. Eggener was a man to respect, and the superior teacher. 

I remember him telling us he was a Vietnam vet (and that's probably all he ever said of it to us), I remember he was very kind to my sister Katie, who followed a year behind me, and I remember asking him - Lord help the naivety of a 12 year old in the '80's - if the recently deceased Liberace had been gay LOL

He was, to quote one of my Grandma's favorite phrases,  "a good Joe."

RIP

************* 

Or, She Could Have Just Had Leftovers Like I Did

"This Father," Junie said,  tapping the side of the can with her fingernail, "this is a Recession Indicator. I haven't eaten fruit cocktail since school lunch in 6th grade."

The Green Mill

My friend Seth, knowing my love of Big Band, has been encouraging me to go to the Green Mill in Chicago, where they routinely have a swing band riling up the crowd. The problem is that's only on Thursday's. As Lisa had a string of Thursday's off - and because I am incapable of saying yes to fun until it is forced upon me - I delayed until I could no longer do so. 

So after work this Thursday we drove down to Illinois. We thought we had plenty of time to kill, so before the bar we stopped and got some pizza. 

At this point he suggested leaving the car in the great parking space he'd found, and walking to the venue. That distance? 1.8 miles each way. 

 I'm 20 years older and 200# heavier than him, and have a messed up hip. I did not want to spend the evening in a Chicago ambulance.  So, to the visible disgust of my young healthy friend, we did NOT wind up walking to the show. 

I was somewhat vindicated when we found a good parking spot a couple blocks from the bar and headed in.

There's a ten dollar cover charge. They checked Seth's ID at the door but even when I volunteered mine they shook me off. Grrrr.

It's an old bar, built in 1907, and during prohibition it was a speakeasy owned by an associate of Al Capone, and the booth that Al preferred is still there in use. When you first walk in there's a very small open space,. All the action is to the right of that, where a very long bar runs down towards a small stage, and between the bar and the people seated along the wall there isn't much room to walk, even if the place was almost empty - and that it was not. 

The place was packed, Getting down to the stage area was a game of human bumper cars, and it didn't get any better when we got in sight of the band. 

With that many people in that small an area, it was hot. Dripping sweat hot. This was, in part, due to wearing a sports jacket, as the unofficial dress code calls for a little class. 

These are not complaints, btw, merely observations. 

The band was great, with a fine clarinetist, and it was a great joy to see the regulars dance. 

We did not stay long, as it was truly crowded and hot, and standing room only, but it was great. On the way out a wonderful sight: a line of people waiting to get into the club. 

Afterwards we drove around Wrigley Field, then drove back to work to pick up my car. 

It was a lot of fun, and I do look forward to doing it again - only this time, with a seat!

A Dream

I had a dream last night, set only at night, in a very modernistic home that had been converted into either a law firm or some dual purpose - investigative and law perhaps. There was a pool, and most of the lighting, at least on the exterior, was purple and orange. 

Although most of the people there were whole-cloth creations of my mind, the lot of them had the feel of the cast of RENO 911. We were having an employee pot luck, and there was a great commotion about it between some co-workers who didn't trust the cleanliness of the other's kitchen. 

Real-life secretary Vanessa was there too, bringing a dish from Peru, and Eladio, an investigator I know, who was angry about something and left the event to stay in his office. 

At some point we were outside, eating at a long patio table, right outside some French doors. It was still the night. At the table were two attorneys. Both were dressed in suits, long trench coats, and fedoras. All of their clothing - ALL of it - was both hand crocheted and in bright, seventies colors more suited to a movie pimp. They did not work with us, but were instead there to negotiate over a shared meal. 

And that's all I remember. 

RIP Ms. Kusch /Mrs. Miles

I found out from a former classmate that our 3rd grade teacher, Miss Kusch, passed away April 3rd at the age of 69. 

 My memories of 3rd grade are rather dull and limited: 

The classroom was on the second floor, third from the west (it went 2nd, 1st, 3rd, 4th in that direction) with windows overlooking Beecher St. 

For some reason we had to create life sized scarecrows of ourselves with a cardboard face featuring our self portrait. I am not, and was not an artist, but basing my technique on a sketch of Fred from Scooby Doo, I did a fairly impressive job (for me).  I still have that face in some storage bin here LOL

Once a week a student had to do a presentation to the class about their life. It was called "All About Me" and my project, still intact, is also in storage LOL

[Alex Q mocked my thoroughness on the project. Ha. Time showed him. He grew up to be the most prosperous and successful of our class, whereas I write this blog]

I remember Ms. Kusch was, if memory served, engaged to her future husband for most of that school year. 

And remember an end of year picnic held at her house. Here's a picture taken that day in 1983. I'm the kid in the Brewers hat and red, white, and blue collared shirt. 

Ms. Kusch taught at my grade school for 36 years, all but a few of them after I was in her class. That's an impressive feat, and I'm sure she made a difference for a lot of kids. 

RIP