The Lion Sleeps tonight...

[tip of the Illini basketball hat to the Tokens]

The Lion sleeps now. His roar extinguished by smoke and flames at the age of 65.

I've been thinking about what I would say about him for a few weeks, now, and I still don't know. He was a good man. Flawed, but unlike so many, willing to freely admit those flaws. Many who knew him in his later years mistook his certainty for arrogance rather than for what it really was. If he knew something, he knew it. Period. If he didn't know it, he learned it.

His body gave out on him, largely due to his habit of ignoring warning signs until they became five alarm conflagrations, but his mind was still keen. His lack of success in long term relationships with the ladies was legendary. So much so that our in joke was that I would ask him for advice, then do just the opposite and find success.

He loved his grandkids, but he wasn't close to them. By the time they came along, his patience, never abundant, had worn away completely and he could only handle their company in measured doses.

The Cardinals and Illini were his passion, and he passed that love on to me. He read insatiably until his last days, and I see that trait in #1 son and I smile. They were just beginning to find common ground when the end came.

He was vain enough to not go out in public wearing his O2, which I found disappointing because he wouldn't attend his grand kids athletic events. We tussled about this ceaselessly. I even have a six pack that I bought at his request in my fridge, because he wouldn't come over and drink it with me, as much as I atttempted to entice him.

So many more things to say. Before his health failed, he was the life of the party, the one everyone knew and liked. I would have liked to have been around when he ruled CU. It must have been one hell of a ride. He had a fantastic sense of humor. He and I found humor in places that no one else could. It was a great bond to have.

If heaven has a softball team, I imagine he's playing 3rd base and driving the opponent crazy with his opposite field base hits. Then it's on to the "Lockerroom", for coldies and conversation. I hope they let me play some day.

It's not just me!

that thinks Bret fahvruh is the anti christ. Here's a rant from the message board on my fantasy fb league....

"Coo coo, kachoo. I am the egg man. Wait…maybe that was Paul or was it John. Well he is dead. WTF. I had to check to see who else Deron had for a QB, because if he played him on the matchup, he’d be the smartest mo-fo I’d know. But no. That wasn’t the case. His beloved Pay-a-ton Whanning had a bye. So he had to play is dead backup QB, and what happens? He sets a career record and ties a franchise record held by master cosksman Joe Namath. Now anytime someone mentions Broadway Joe I’ll have to hear about Brett Faravarav. And you know it’ll happen: Al Michaels: “Joe Namath scored 6 TDs against a team in his third season.” Madden: “Urr yaa, but Brett Farve scored 6TD’s in his fourth game as a Jet, with an entire team of Mini-Ditkas on defense, pushing against the tide of Katrina, and Napoleons’ eastern front. Brett Farve! Brett Farve!” Al Michaels: “I think it was Arizona, John.” Madden: “Fuck you, Al. Yer sucha bitch.” NBC was concerned at the conclusion of the game, because Madden jerked his turducken so long he went into a coma. Lucky Al Michaels was able to get the soaked and stained jockstrap Brett wore in the 92 Super Bowl, which hangs over the headboard in Madden’s bus, to resuscitate Madden before SNF. Whew. That was a close one. CLEAR!! The NFL needs to put in a new rule that if you belong to AARP you can’t play. He’s going to get hit one of these times and disintegrate into powder like those mummies do in that one movie. Shit what’s it called? Oh ya. The Mummy. So as if having the one thing in football I believe is the most unholy of unholy have a sold-my-sole-to-the-devil-day, I lost to Darren. And I’m not going to say, “No offense”, because I truly mean offense. Next time play Trent Green. He’s almost as old."

I'm hip.

brothers

Though you are in your shining days,
Voices among the crowd
And new friends busy with your praise,
Be not unkind or proud,
But think about old friends the most:
Time's bitter flood will rise,
Your beauty perish and be lost
For all eyes but these eyes.-----Yeats

There's a guy who lives in VG who was my stepbrother for 20+ years. Great guy, really. Loves his wife and loves his kids and loves their kids, but I don't really know him. We live two miles apart and see each other twice a year, and we're not bitter about it. There's no latent animosity. We're just at vastly different places in our lives and neither of us have the time or desire to mend what really isn't broken.

then there are those four rowdies whom I consider to be my true brothers....

I know that we've had our disagreements...about women, and 40th birthdays (sorry bro', sincerely) and gun control, (it doesn't work, TSE!), and Michigan football tix (I can't believe the whiff took a stand on the issue, Mikey!) but I know that when I truly need you guys, you'll be there for me, and vice versa. I appreciate all that you do for me, and I wanted to say it publicly. I still find it hard to believe that it all started with a summer job at Hardee's. (no offense, Melbs) Here's to the next 44 years, fellas!

Porches, hangovers, etc

The refuse from the porch has been hauled away and now it's time for Soffit, fascia, siding & gutters.

The plan was to get to it on Sunday, but that went to Hell in a handcart when I stayed up way late, playing Mexican dice and drinking with my sister unit & her hubbie, plus #2 sis & the madre. I've felt worse than I felt on Sunday, but not often! The boss, being sage beyond compare, ditched me around 11:30 and was into blissful repose long before I staggered in, grazed on whatever presented itself in the fridge and then collapsed on the couch. I must admit that it was a great time, one I want to repeat, just not any time soon, and preferably without the side effects monopolizing my Sunday.

Cookie's JFL B team won their second game in a row Saturday, but the lightweights lost. Soccer is in full swing, with all three kids having their first game this Saturday. I'm excited to see if their hard work will be rewarded.

We'll have to run concessions for three home games while the Princess plays in Tuscola, so it will be interesting, to say the least.

Bears!

No. Not the decidedly mediocre monsters of the midway, who snatched almost certain defeat from the jaws of victory yesterday. I'm not talking about the baby bears who reside at Waveland and Sheffield and who clinched the division at the expense of my beloved redbirds, either.

I'm talking about Ursus Americanus. The American Black Bear. A half mile from my deer hunting spot in the wilds of Hugo! Crazy, right? Rumor has it that one of the locals struck it with a vehicle in Pennsylvania and brought it home to play a trick on someone, which if it turns out to be illegal, will mean that Cubby could end up biting the guy after all.

I swear there's a world series metaphor in all of this, but I'm damned if I'll say that the Northsiders hopes will probably end up road kill, just like the Hugo Bruin. That would be too easy.

lessons

A few weeks ago, without prior notice, the school dismissed early due to excessive heat. I can't remember ever being prouder of my children and their subsequent actions. Mini-me immediately went to the princesses' classroom, found her and kept her with him. He then returned to his class and used the classroom phone to call the boss for instruction. #1 son, having been dismissed a few minutes later, then found his way to them and together they proceeded to the bosses' workplace. It makes me think that the underlying themes of family, togetherness, and looking out for one another that Jules and I stress ad nauseum just might be sinking in. Or we're extremely lucky to have such GREAT kids!

#1 son is now playing soccer with mini me. This is his first real foray into organized team sports, and he seems to be enjoying it. He's got innate talent, but has to think about every move rather than letting instinct dictate.

The Princess is going to be a beast, if she chooses to continue. She's fast, tough and fearless.

Mini-Me is excellent, but he needs to remember to play within the rules...he gets a little chippy at times....probably a bi-product of playing football.

After two weeks my fantasy league team, the VGBuffones, is on life support. My QB sucks and the two receivers I counted on most are hurt. Kinda funny, but not being versed in Chicago Bears history, two of my opponents mis read my team name. One thought I had misspelled buffoons, and the one I liked most was the Fabulous Redhead thinking I was saying Buff Ones!

Doug, they're sorry. They know not what they do!

She gone!

The porch is gone. Long live the porch. We cut it into pieces and hauled it to the recycling center. (made a righteous $30, too) So now I have to repair/replace soffits & fascia, put up a few pieces of siding and gutter, and call it done! It dramatically changed the appearance of the house from the drive/alley. Pictures will be posted when it's completed.

In JFL news...VG returned to their losing ways on Sunday. the B's lost 12-0 and the lightweights were anihilated, 34-0. Mini Me isn't getting to play much...not sure why. He certainly wouldn't do any worse than the product we've been putting on the field. He's really shining in soccer. I'm beginning to wonder if his future lies in a sport other than football. He's so small compared to everyone else. It will be his decision, ultimately.

The princess seems to really be getting into soccer this season, doing everything asked of her by the coaches. She's going full speed, running and sweating and not shying from contact.

#1 son continues to practice HRD. As he advances in belt rank, the materials become more and more complicated & physically demanding. I can't wait to see how far he takes it. He's adjusting well to junior high.