POST 40 Here We Are Now,,,,,,

…entertain us.

Nirvana–1991

Did you read the scientific report, based on analytical data, that named Nirvana’s “Smells Like Teen Spirit” as the most iconic song of all time?  Now I have nothing against the song. In fact, it is the ringtone for our son Michael on my cellphone, even though he hasn’t been a teenager for a dozen years. But I looked up the definition of an icon, and church images not withstanding, it means “a person or thing regarded as a representative symbol of something.” So this is the most representative symbol of music ever? Because of “analytical data”? As any SABREmatrician loving baseball fan will tell you, sometimes you just have to watch the game.

In the arts, agreeing on an icon of just about anything is a near impossible task. While it may be achievable for some one hit wonder novelty band (for example, the “Archies” will always be known for “Sugar, Sugar”)  I would think that the more successful a a particular artist is, the harder it would be to pick out the one piece that defines them. Take Frank Sinatra or the Beatles, Meryl Streep or Picasso. There is no way to agree on a single work that these artists will be eternally remembered for. Each evolved in their calling, tried on different shoes, never allowing one pair to get too comfortable. I thought  Bob Dylan might be an exception, that despite his lengthy career and varying styles, everyone would agree that “Like a Rolling Stone” was his masterpiece. But a quick Internet search turned up 10 “Best of Dylan” lists, with 10 different songs at number one.  And no mathematical formula to tell us which list is best!

So what does any of this have to do with building our house? Well, we drove through the sub-division last night, and discovered that Thorngate does have an icon. And it is…..the muntin. I can already hear some of you asking “What is a muntin?” Muntins, for the architecturally naive among you*, are the wood strips that separate the glass in a window into several smaller panes. They have been around since the 16th century, and if you live in Thorngate, you gotta have ’em on your windows. They are, and there is no other way to say it, iconic! So with the concordance of the holy trinity (Barb, our architect, and the Homeowners Review Committee), have ’em we will!

So a year from now, when I look out at a gray and rainy day like today, I will be looking past our muntins. And probably humming “Smells Like Teen Spirit.”

Have a good weekend, all.

*don’t worry, before we started this project that included me.

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POST 37 Hey, Hey, Mama….

…said the way you move.

Black Dog

Led Zeppelin – 1971

Sunday brought a quick visit from our builder, an alternative to watching the end of the Bears game. Stone, roof and windows are still the topic of debate, or at least the subject of conversation. Since the new house is a modified ranch we will have a very large, highly visible, roof. The Homeowners Association Architectural Review Committee is suggesting an upgraded roofing material. We may go down that road, though it will put a dent in the “discretionary” costs fund. The builder just keeps on telling Barb, “Anything you pick out will look great.” (Of course, he is right!)

Didn’t we have lovely weather this weekend! While the Cubs wore their balaclavas in New York City, we were basking under sunny blue skies and moderate temperatures. Saturday was a perfect afternoon to take Max for a walk. Max seemed to think so too, running to the back door when I suggested the mile and a quarter turn around the Heron’s Landing loop, and sitting patiently while I put on his collar and leash.

Max was never a runner, but he used to be a decent walker. Four or five mile walks with a water stop at Dominick’s were part of his regular routine. But that was a few years ago. Now the Dominick’s is a Mariano’s and spry young Max is  eleven, and as we all know, that is 77 in dog years. Much of his black coat has turned grey and he is sleeping more and more. He is getting a little more cranky, and a lot more jealous of the kitten. But he was freshly groomed last week, looked like a cool young dude, and had a bit of bounce in his step.

So we set out on our walk, me listening to my tunes on Pandora, Max leaving his  liquid greeting card at almost every house to let the ladies know he had stopped by.  About two-thirds of the way around the loop we came to our fork in the road. At that point there is an offshoot that leads to the front entrance of the subdivision. I had a little blue bag I needed to drop off in the garbage can by the mail boxes there, so I gave Max’s collar a little tug to let him know that I needed us to take the little side trip.

Max didn’t exactly crumple, but it soon became clear  the loyal old trail horse was barely up to walking the extra quarter of a mile. Eleven years of climbing the stairs has taken its toll. Every joint must be aching. I can see his eyes telling us “No more stairs. Build the damn ranch already!” You got it boy! Just be sure you hang around to enjoy it.

Have a great day, and give your dog a hug.

POST 31 Did You Ever Have to Make Up Your Mind…

…you pick up on one and leave the other behind.

The Lovin’ Spoonful — 1965

No looking back now. We crossed our Rubicon last week when we signed the “build” contract. Now all efforts are on moving forward. It really is a life changing decision. Just having made it is a relief, which is not to say there won’t be any doubts along the way! But it made me thinking about decisions that I have made, either with or without Barb, through the years. And since lists are always fun, and since I don’t have to compete with David Letterman any more, here we go.

Top Ten Decisions

10. Pushing the button: This blog is fun to write and hopefully fun to read too. But there is a button at the bottom of the WordPress app that reads “Publish.” The decision to press that button is never made lightly. Every word is read and reread. Does this say what I mean? Is there a better way to get a point a cross? Is it “who” or “whom”?

9. Go Go White Sox:  I remember when I was 5  years old being asked by my dad if I was a Cubs or White Sox fan. I have absolutely no idea how I made the decision, but for some reason I squeaked out “White Sox.”  More than fifty years later I have been able to celebrate one more World Championship than I would have if I had decided the other way. Of course, the next few years may easily change the balance of those scales. Despite my loyalty to the Pale Hose, I was not able to convince Michael to follow in my footsteps, as Sammy Sosa enticed him into becoming a Cub fan. At least we share a love of the 5-0, 13th ranked  NU ‘Cats!

8. Evanston vs. Champaign: Speaking of Northwestern, my college choice is still something I wonder about. For financial reasons, I could either go to University of Illinois in Champaign, or go to Northwestern and live at home. Northwestern won out, and I value the education I got there, but I do have regrets that I did not experience campus life. Who knows, I might even have met Barb a few years earlier and we could be closing in on our 40th anniversary! (More on that choice coming up.)

7. What do you want to do with your life?: Lots of science courses, and a few role models here and there, made the decision to go into medicine pretty straight forward. Journalism lost out, as did computer science. I still wonder what Silicon Valley might have held for me.

6. Really? Really?: My turning to Pathology caught a lot of people by surprise. Weren’t pathologists nerdy people who couldn’t talk to people and were most happy cutting things up in the hospital basement? Well, um yeah! Sign me up! Actually, it has been a great decision, allowing me to practice medicine and have a wonderful family life. I have always had time to be with Barb, to enjoy time with the kids, and to treasure being a grandpa.  No regrets on this one.

5.  Can I start a lab?:  Hard to believe that it is more than 10 years since my career changed dramatically as I left hospital pathology to create a laboratory for UroPartners. Many factors influenced that decision, and a lot of sleepless nights (actually sleepless months) followed, but I am very proud of what we have here. Each step, from layout, to hiring, to getting up and running brought new challenges, but I have to say that we are looking good!

4. The Sandwich Generation: While we parent our children, we reach the point where we parent our parents as well. The decision to insist that my mother and her sister relocate to a senior living home was a distressful one for them, but it was necessary and provided each of them with several years in the appropriate environment. This was a big one, and one that I could never have accomplished without Barb’s help. She really dug in and got it done.

3. The middle school is losing its lease, something has to be done!: This one probably had more unforeseen consequences than any other. Twenty six years ago the grammar school district was creating an advisory committee — community members needed to help make a decision about building a new school. Volunteering for that committee led to a cascade of events culminating in 16 years on the Stevenson High School Board of Education, 6 years as Board President, the proud moments of winning numerous awards, and the even prouder moments of presenting both Laury and Michael with their diplomas. And wonderful connections with people who inspire me still, connections that developed well before the time of  LinkedIn.

2. Riveredance!!!  (oops, I mean Riverwoods!!!): Yes, this new home is a big decision. But I know it is a good one.

And the number one big decision: Ok, this is obvious. Asking Barb to marry me has been the best decision I ever made. Except,,,,I didn’t ask her, she asked me!  But I was the one who asked Barb out for our first date (polo and pizza) and got the ball rolling, so I will consider this my decision. For all our years, thanks, Babe.

______________

Since we started with a Lovin’ Spoonful song I will end with my favorite.

Can you guess what it will be?  Click and find out.

POST 30 Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha! You Can’t Fool Me ….

….. There ain’t no Sanity Clause!

Fiorello (Chico Marx)–A Night at the Opera, 1935

Pop the cork and pour the champagne, Wednesday night it finally happened. Picture the moment. Barb and I stare down the builder and architect, eye to eye and face to face. We pull out our pens, they pull out their pens. A last moment of hesitation. Finally, we all sign on the dotted lines. Shazam! We have a contract to build our semi-jumbo-downsizer.

Of note, unlike the iconic bargaining scene between producer Groucho and agent Chico, our negotiations did not consist of cutting and cutting and cutting (on either the house OR the contract.) The original document presented by the builder ran 17 pages. Then we added 2 pages of specifications and 6 pages of drawings that all needed to be referenced. Finally our attorney protected us with 43 numbered clarifications and additional points. I am surprised there ISN’T a reference to Santa Clause, or the Easter Bunny for that matter.

So are we pleased with the product of all our work? I think so. We managed to keep all the spaces we wanted, though some are a bit tighter than we had hoped. We tend to live in the kitchen, and the new one will be designed for  both our daily needs and  for all the guests who like to hang out with Barb when  she prepares for a dinner party. There are enough bedrooms and playrooms, AND space for a first floor litter box for Princess, Kitten, Phoebe.

Now the plans are off to the Homeowners Association Architectural Board for their review and approval. No one seems to know quite how long this will take, and if any revisions will be necessary. So far, all the Board has asked is that we keep the “lawn” mowed. I like easy requirements! After the Homeowners agree that we are in compliance with their dreaded monotony code (yawn) it will be the Village’s turn to sift through the plans and give the final go ahead. At least we don’t need state approval. I suspect Illinois hasn’t been paying many of its inspectors lately!

Who has a favorite “home” song? Now that things are moving along I am working on a mix tape to play at next years move in open house celebration,  to which you are of course all invited. I’ll start with Crosby Stills and Nash’s “Our House.” What comes next? Leave your suggestions in the Comment box.

Have a great weekend everyone.

“……there is always a schmuck with a pen.”—A. Simon, circa 1988

POST 29 Truckin, I’m a Goin’ Home….

…whoa oh baby, back where I belong.

Grateful Dead-1970

A pharmaceutical company provided the laboratory and business office with breakfast via a  food truck this morning. Lots of great looking pancake combos on the menu, but I opted for the overly sweet “healthy” choice of the yogurt- granola-  fruit parfait. Healthy–right, who am I kidding! At least it gave me enough energy to write a blog post, and led to an obvious opening line to boot.

As far as “goin’ home,” is concerned, yesterday we took a break from the design process. Barb and I spent part of the evening at a joyous celebration,  a “brit milah” or ritual circumcision. Mazel Tov to the baby’s family, particularly the  grandma,  a fellow pathologist and theater lover. She and I have plans to co-write a musical set in a morgue. If you don’t subscribe to Variety, just read future installments of this blog to know when the show makes its off-off Broadway debut. I will have free tickets for all our readers.

This morning the house project got back on track. AT 7 a.m. we received a revised set of exterior drawings from the architect,  and a meeting with the him and the builder is scheduled for this evening. One thing that I have had difficulties with is taking the two dimensional drawings and translating them in my head into a full widescreen 3D rendition.  It is hard for me to look at the outside elevations and recognize what will be in the foreground and what will recede and how the various roof lines will interact. Fortunately, Barb has a good grasp of the spatial arrangements, and has even lent the architect a guiding hand. So  with enough Keurig K-Cups and a fresh cinnamon coffee cake to keep everyone comfortably buzzed, I think might finally get to the starting line tonight, and maybe, maybe, catch a glimmer of the finish line in the distant haze.  Barb and I will have to be The Marathon Men. Better that than being The Mad Men, a designation I believe I have heard from some of you!

Time to wrap this up, as I just noticed that the leftover pancakes were delivered to our break room. Got to get some while they are still warm. No gluten issues here. Dine on!

Sometimes the lights all shinin’ on me

Other times I can barely see

Lately it occurs to me

What a long, strange trip its been!

POST 28 There Ought to be Clowns…..

….well maybe next year.

Stephen Sondheim, A Little Night Music

With Barb and a friend in  New York City this weekend,  I had an opportunity to do some multi-tasking. So while watching the 4-0 NU Wildcats squeak out a victory over a very determined Ball Stat team  I was was also noodling around with my new (thank you UroPartners) tablet. I downloaded the HBO Go Ap and looked for something to stream.

I scrolled through the HBO Documentary section and came across a 2013 film called  “Six by Sondheim.” Those of you who know me well are aware that I am a Broadway Baby, with my list of favorite musicals, organized alphabetically and by decade. We have given spirited renditions of a few Broadway tunes on our baseball buddy trips. But I don’t think you will find much Sondheim on my Must See/Must Sing list. Sondheim doesn’t write many “typical” musicals. He tackles topics such as men who kill Presidents (Assassins, a big flop) and barbers who kill men (Sweeney Todd, a big hit.)

I like the way this doc was put together. It contained almost no new material. Instead, the film makers spliced together bits and pieces of 12 or 15 previous Sondheim television interviews spanning 50 years of his career, taking him from an up and comer to an honored veteran. This was interspersed with new performances of a six of his compositions. The best of these pieces started with a dozen YouTube clips of everyone from Collins (Judy) to Sinatra (Frank) to Streisand (Barbra) singing Send in the Clowns. This segued into an amazing rendition of the song by Audra McDonald. All I can say is that if you don’t know Audra McDonald, you should.

So does any of this have anything to do with our home building project? I guess what  learned while watching was the degree of collaboration, the multitude of moving parts, that need to come together for a successful Broadway show. It will be the same for our new house. The architect can write the music, the builder can pen the words, the decorator can be the set designer, and Barb and I can play the leading roles. I can already see Neil Patrick Harris handing us our Tonys….

In closing, we are quickly approaching our 30th post. Don’t you all think it is time for Barb to write one? If you believe Barb should write a post, clap your hands. No wait, I can’t hear you. If you believe Barb should write a post, answer the poll below, or if you are on a site that doesn’t show the poll, send me an email at lesraff@comcast.net. I bet that if we get 50 or more positive responses, I will be able to convince Barb you really want to hear from her.

Thanks!

 

POST 27 When You Come to the Fork in the Road…..

…TAKE IT! Attributed to Lawrence Peter (Yogi) Berra 1925-2015.

Not a music quote today. Instead, we honor the recently passed Hall of Fame ballplayer and travel down a couple of forked roads.

The path to Riverwoods continues to gain momentum, although we are still not under contract. I think next week will be the “point of no return,” and I cannot conceive of anything that will keep us from going forward. I suspect (hope?) the next few months  will be filled with visions of foundation (concrete), insulation (pink), and countertops (marble redux?) This should be the fun part, though I am sure there will be stress and tempers and unprintables. Well, at least we are experienced with all that, aren’t we, Mr. Bank Officer!

My other fork today? What to do with this blog. Any of you reading from the beginning know that the origins were in the off-hand remark of a former boss of Barb’s. “Why not document building the house in a blog. Share it with your friends.” Barb passed that on to me, and here we are, 27 posts later. Along the way, we have covered a lot of ephemera, a lot of riff-raff. Housebuilding? Not so much. But I have had a blast, and have qvelled (y’all know that word, right?) at some of the comments.

Anyway, ChicagoNow, a subsidiary of Tribune Publications, was taking “pitches” to run blogs on their website.  It would mean a little more exposure, maybe some more readers, and potentially  some revenue. I spent a lot of time speaking with the manager of the site, as well as some of the other writers  who have brought their work to ChicagoNow. I was sorely tempted, but it would have meant turning blogging into a part-time job, with a need for posts on a very regular basis. Since I have committed to  house building as my part-time job for the next year, I have decided to leave downsizemaybe right here on WordPress where it was conceived and born. I know it is a decision Barb prefers as well. Of course I would love to increase readership, so as I keep blogging you can always feel free to like, share and spread the word, be it on Facebook, Twitter, LinkedIn or at your dining room table. We have had readers from  10 or 12 different countries and four continents, but that leaves plenty more. And as always, after you are done reading, leave a comment or say hi!

I think I can find a closing song after all.

Another turning point a fork stuck in the road. Time grabs you by the wrist directs you wear to go……

….I hope you had the time of your life.

POST 26 I Can Call you Betty, And Betty When You Call Me…

–Paul Simon, the Graceland album, 1986.

The timing was just right. While Barb and I wait for the final drawings, and consult with our attorney on the building contract, I enjoyed  the previously advertised baseball buddy trip. Having the attorney along as one of my traveling companions was just an added benefit.

We had a great time, catching a near perfect gem of a baseball game, visiting the Henry Ford Museum and Greenfield Village complex outside Detroit, and eating at two  Michigan restaurant renowned in the Raff household, Zingerman’s Deli in Ann Arbor and Redamak’s Tavern in New Buffalo. I haven’t had a chance to write any Yelp! reviews, but if you head for Zingerman’s, just close your eyes and hand over your wallet to the cashier!

But as always on these trips, it was the conversation and the camaraderie that made the miles and days zoom by.  As we told our stories for the second or third time, I recognized all the old nicknames. Now I have never had a nickname. I don’t think Barb ever has either, though nicknaming seems less common in women. So I got to thinking, what kind of person gets a  nickname and who spends their lives as “Les”, or in worst case scenarios, “Lester.” My observations:

If you were the wide receiver in all the grammar school pick-up football games, you get a nickname. If you were the holder for place kicks, you don’t.

If you were a wild and crazy guy in your college fraternity, you get cool wooden paddles with your secret nickname. If you lived at home for college and worked at the Jewel, you get a plastic laminated name tag with you first initial, last name and a red X because you aren’t old enough to sell liquor.

If you were called “Rock and Roll’s future” when you were 25 years old, you get called “The Boss.” If the dog howls when you sing in the shower, you get called the hot water waster.

If you are on a bowling team, your bowling shirt has your nickname. If you play mixed doubles tennis, your tennis shirt doesn’t even have your real name, unless your name is Wilson, or even more troubling, Prince.

If you are a  pawnbroker or duck hunter on a TV reality show, you get an authentic redneck nickname. If you are on Jeopardy!, Alex Trebek uses your real name, as in “Wrong again, Les”.

If you are a hot shot  surgeon, you get a nickname from the nurses. If you are a pathologist, no one can remember your name.

So my challenge between now and the time the house gets built is to do something worthy of earning a nickname. I will keep trying, but in the meantime, you can call me Al!

POST 25 Can You Tell Me –Please Don’t Tell Me

Those are lyrics from Question 67 and 68,  a song by the band Chicago. Their picture is on the left.  I realize now that I had taken for granted that our readers figured out the relationship between the post title, usually a song lyric, and the lead picture, usually an artist associated with that song. I was disabused of the assumption that all of the readers were “getting it” when Barb asked me why my last post featured a picture of Gwenyth Paltrow. In my “this is really basic” voice I explained that the title of the post contained lyrics from the song Viva La Vida. Viva La Vida is a song from the band Coldplay. Coldplay’s front man is Chris Martin. Chris Martin was married to Gwenyth Paltrow. Gwenyth Paltrow was my picture choice. A–>B–>C–>D–>E. Simple, no? But not all blog readers share my love of music, pop culture and trivia, or have a subscription to both People and Rolling Stone magazines. So no more tricky lead ins. I promise, or at least I promise to try.

In more straight forward news, the architect has almost completed all the exterior drawings. Barb is also learning all about the qualities of different stones, their durability and how they weather over the years. Many of the quarries are in northern Wisconsin, so a road trip may be in order. Maybe even catch some leaves changing color.

Speaking of road trips, I leave tomorrow for my annual baseball road trip with friends from grammar school and high school. This year it a drive  to Detroit, expertly timed on our part so that the game doesn’t matter to either the White Sox OR the Tigers, although last place may be hanging in the balance. And because life couldn’t get any better, we are going to see a doubleheader!

Actually, the road trips are about a lot more than the baseball games. It is a chance to share  memories every year (ok, they are the SAME memories every year), see great cities (10 or 12 great ones,  and then there was Oakland), interesting museums (in Pittsburgh we spent all morning at the Andy Warhol one), and national treasures (the Gateway Arch, the Iwo Jima Memorial, the Halls of Fame Baseball and Rock’n’Roll.) We also play a lot of Name that Tune and Password, just passing time on long car rides. I take credit for having the only traffic accident on our journeys, but it was in a gas station, so the gang still lets me drive on the road. I also do the cost accounting, because who would you trust with your money, a bunch of attorneys or a doctor?

So I anticipate this will be my last post for a few days. I will spend the trip stewing on my favorite Hall of Fame Question, why isn’t Chicago IN the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. Must be all the performance enhancing drugs.

Wheel on. 

Les

 

 

Want to know what’s happening with our house now? Check out our chicagonow blog site. http://chicagonow.com/downsize-maybe

POST 24 I Hear Jerusalem Bells a-Ringing…..

…Roman cavalry choirs are singing

Yes, that is Gwyneth. Yes, I know that should be a picture of Coldplay, or at least Chris Martin. But my exhaustive, scientific, and unbiased research (counting hits on previous posts) indicates that more of you, males and females,  will read this if there is a pretty woman in the lead picture. I ran out of new photos of Barb, so you get the “consciously uncoupled” Ms Paltrow. In no way does this constitute an endorsement for any of her odder life style advice, but she does look good. I can deal with the deviation from the lead pic pattern, and I hope you can too!

Anyway, if you haven’t guessed from the joyous title of this post, Monday afternoon Barb and I got THE PHONE CALL. I had previously told our banker that whenever she calls I can tell by her voice that she is going to ask me for one more notarized document or one more affidavit. It sounded to me as if she had that same “don’t shoot the messenger” tone as she said hello, but she thought she was being cheerful when she told us “It is all taken care of, the loan is approved.” All that is left to do is for Barb and I to deposit more money in her bank so that we can get the promised rate. Sort of like bringing a can of Campbell’s Chicken Noodle Soup to the delicatessen so you can get the good homemade matzoh ball stuff, but that’s the way it is. So we will visit her this afternoon, make the necessary deposit, and sign on the dotted line. Welcome to the real world.

This means we will be soon headed onto the next phase. Ahead lay architectural drawings, a contract with the builder, and homeowners and village review of our plans. The challenge will be to get the more than the construction fence and Port-A-Potty installed before the first frost. Along the way, we will begin to spend some of the money the bank has graciously passed our way. What has been a trickle of cash flowing out so far will soon be a torrent-the Mighty Mississippi River of dollars will soon roar out the door.  Writing about it here will be the one part of the process I can do for free, so look for lots of posts!

Like dollars, numbers can be elusive. After discussion with WordPress, the site on which these posts reside, I have discovered that the “hit” numbers they provide are quite inaccurate. I am really curious as to who and how many of you are reading along. If you are reading this post in any format, whether on WordPress, Facebook or LinkedIn, or as a result of a Google Search or a message from me, please either check a “Like” box or send me a comment or email (lesraff@comcast.net). Tell me who you are or be anonymous, it is mostly the count I am interested in right now (yeah, it is an ego thing.) If you  all do this just once, I can get a better sense of how many of you are reading, and hopefully enjoying.

Time to go FISHing (a bit of pathologist humor)

Bye all.