Partners in Crime. (Sort of.)

"It's friendship, friendship, 
Just a perfect blendship, 
When other friendships have ceased to jell 
Ours will still be swell!"

When you leave your home each day, if you work in an office that is, there are many consistencies that greet you when you arrive. For the past year or so, I have been fortunate to have a "partner" who really defines the term. She is someone I trust, respect, and most of all—know can help move our business forward. If you have worked in an environment where there is little or no trust, camaraderie, and/or caring on behalf of those you work with—you understand the value of a good "teammate."

When I first met Melissa, I was a little unsure if the sincerity was real. She is so damn nice, and went out of her way to help where she could; I refused to let my guard down based upon passed experiences. That lasted less than 24 hours. She is the real deal. Scary.

Together she introduced me to the people in the entire office (she knows them all) and then introduced me to her family. One husband (good thing it's only one, as it's illegal to have two) one adorable child, and a deep and abiding love for both of them. 

Ok, enough of the praise. 

Over the past year, both myself and our assistant Nick, knew there was one thing Jim (her husband), Eli (her son), as well as Melissa wanted in 2014. They wanted another child. As a Dad of six, my days are long past these desires, but knowing what she went through to make this happen, it is a miracle of modern medicine. (She is due at the end of December—-she will get her gift in 2014.) 

In the business world we work with many people; so much has changed in the decades I have been in advertising. When I first started there were mostly men who were selling, and gradually more and more women have made this actually more of a female dominated business. I am fairly certain in the beginning the word "respect" was not attached to anyone but men who were smoking, drinking, and other stuff known thanks to AMC as the days of "Mad Men." Those days are long past—a very good thing as the only activity I saw early on were livers being worked to the max over lunch and productivity over with by 2PM.

Melissa and I have had the opportunity to discuss situations in business that have opened my eyes—I really didn't think that was possible after all this time. I have seen her very sweet demeanor become much "de-meaner" to those who are being very rude and difficult to deal with. Not often, but a few weeks ago one of my other associates asked me to come into her office and asked, "Wow, I have never seen her like that, what happened?" My response…"She's pissed."

The photo above was taken last summer right after we began working together. She asked, I offered, if I would take photos of her family around Chicago.? Together, they posed on a cow located off Michigan Avenue—it was only fitting that this is probably not 100% legal, but then again, we're partners in crime. (Sort. Of.)

Thanks for stopping by. 

The road.

"The long and winding road

That leads to your door

Will never disappear

I've seen that road before

It always leads me here

Lead me to you door."

We all have roads we have ventured down in life; some have lead in the right direction, others have come to a complete dead end. We know when we get there either way, and we know when we need to make a U-turn.

This time of year is often a turning point in my life. The summer is in full swing and every day I make a full attempt to appreciate what the days have to offer. But then there are times when I reflect knowing in the near future there will be a change—one I am not looking forward to. I think to myself, "Don't  worry about the future (at least the near future) and focus on today." 

In our home right now we are preparing for the winding down of summer. I asked my daughter last night, "Do you like school?" She said, "I like the day before Christmas break and Halloween." I assured her there would be many of those days in her future as she is just entering the 4th grade; I also explained, it would be a good idea to like the days in between.

So far in my life, I have travelled down many roads. Some have worked out to be the path to much better things, and some turned out to be very bumpy..in the end, I have learned from these experiences. Whether it was love, work, or life and what it has brought forward, I try to build off them. I would love to say I never harbor bad memories, but that would be a lie. I am after all human.

No matter where we travel in life, there seems to be a direction we know in our hearts is the road to something better. Right now, and it happened in a conversation today in the office—-there are some bumpy roads I have heard about with people I either know well or casually know. Some our roads I have taken in the past, and some are pathways I never hope to travel; family dynamics will be changing, health issues have occurred  and/or a mix of storm clouds are either overhead or on the horizon. The one thing I do know, and this is from personal experience, above the clouds is always something better—as long as there is a gust of wind all will improve; time really does heal all wounds, and if you believe it, it just might happen.

The photo above was taken a few weeks ago when my family was out of town. If you have ever seen me shoot, you may have noticed I am not always standing. I sit, stand, climb and often lay down on the ground for a better angle—thankfully for this photograph I made sure I was not about to become road kill!

Thanks for stopping by.

Street Pics.

"Somewhere in my closet 

There's a cardboard box just sittin' on a shelf

It's full of faded memories

And it's been there ever since the night you left." 

At last count there are a lot of people taking pictures. Probably more than in history thanks to the iEverything, point and shoot cameras, and regular cameras that use film. Just kidding—who uses film anymore? Actually people do, but they are few and far between.

Photos are being taken, sent thousands of miles away instantly and sometimes deleted just as quickly as they took to receive. (Hello Snap Chat!) A few years ago my kids were using my phone—check that they still do—and had downloaded this app called "Snap Chat." I had no idea what it did, what it was known to do, and what could be done with it. One day at lunch I learned what it's primary usage was and that puppy was gone before dessert.

Before the explosion of digital photography, I was taking photos but not as many as I do today. I used film and eventually migrated to all digital. It's cheaper, faster, and with the number of photos I was taking, instant gratification. In some ways I miss taking the film in for processing wondering if I had taken a special shot. More than 9 out of 10 times, I didn't and those pictures are buried deep in the attic.

Sometimes however the buried pictures come back to be appreciated; this is what happened when a photographers photos were found in 2007. Her name was Vivian Mauer and whereas she is deceased, her photos live on and will continue to live on in exhibitions, books and eventual sales of her images. She was a street photographer and captured life when no one was looking—at least what they thought.

Yesterday I saw a movie based upon this discovery—it's a cross between the show "Storage Wars" and the movie "Titanic." A major discovery not even realized to be hiding in a murky storage locker that went to auction. What a find.

If you know her story, the film takes you as deep into her life as she will let you go; if not, you will be fascinated. At least I was. What she captured on film is priceless—there has been nothing like it found in the past, and even though billions of photos are now being taken, people will likely be more skeptical when they see someone pointing a camera. It's not as easy as it looks to take iconic photos—I doubt I will ever be so lucky.

The photo above was taken this past spring at an ice dance practice. I was taking a course at our local college, College of DuPage, and one of our projects was to all go and shoot ice dancing—I had no idea what I was about to encounter with every one of my classmates shooting the same topic from the same location at the rink. One thing I learned was it's ok to lay down on the job; my head was sticking out from the door from an opening in the boards—- fortunately it stayed in tact to capture a memory.

Thanks for stopping by.

If the shoe fits.

"Put on your high-heel sneakers, lordy 
Wear your wig-hat on your head 
Put on your high-heel sneakers, child 
Wear your wig-hat on your head 
Ya know you're looking mighty fine, baby 
I'm pretty sure you're gonna knock 'em dead"

Many years ago, actually one of my first jobs, was working in the ladies shoe department at Stix, Baer and Fuller in St. Louis. How long ago? Really long ago as "Stix" is now Dillard's and has been for decades.

My Mom had worked at Stix and knew the right people to help her 17-year-old son land a job selling shoes to women who had only one thing on their minds—try on as many shoes as possible and "possibly" buy at most one pair. Most times they walked away without a bag in their hand and probably thinking, "that young man was one of the worst sellers I have encountered." I was not in it to win it, I was in it to meet girls. Sue me, I was seventeen.

I was recently re-reading one of my favorite books on the service industry called, "It's not my department." The book is yellowed, ripped and just as valuable of a read as it was 20 years ago when I purchased it. In the book there are a number of stories about service—some good, some bad, some heroic—-one story is about Nordstrom and how they train their employees to bring out 3-plus pairs of shoes each time a guest comes into the shoe department. Since Nordstrom started out selling only shoes, and today are one of the most respected retailers in the service industry, I assume they know how to build a business. 

It must have been around Easter time, and Stix was having a big sale; mulling about the shoe department a woman came in (I think she was a woman) and asked if there were any shoes that could fit her feet. I looked down and almost started to laugh—very professional, huh? Her feet were long, wide, and gigantic…almost like a brick of cement with toes. I said, "I think we might, let me check after measuring her foot." (At least of what I recall.) I came back and placed some shoe boxes on the floor; it was just disgusting to look at her feet. "These are the closest we would have to your size, but they might be a little tight." That was an understatement—it was like fitting a mack truck into a compact parking space. She tried desperately to get them on her foot. The shoe material was saying, "This is not going to work."  Sadly she walked away—I felt really bad for her.

It was not long after I learned my days of ladies shoes sales were coming to an end; I was relieved in some ways, but I knew I was going to miss the money I was making. It was not much, but it was something. A few days after I left the first floor, I received a call asking if I would like a seasonal position? I learned I was going to be in the "trim and tree" department—Christmas had come early in the form of a job I knew nothing about. The one thing I remember about that venture was my opportunity to watch a professional shop lifter rip us off big time. At least that's what they thought they were doing. The in-store security was right on top of her; they had come up to me and said, "Do not approach her, we are on it." It was so cool to watch—yet, so sad to know what was going to happen.

Move forward nearly 40 years and today I am still in sales; no I don't work in retail, but I did learn a lot from those years at Stix. One of the most valuable lessons—don't do what you have no business doing. Amen.

The photo above was taken in Western Illinois a few weeks ago. Out in the middle of nowhere was a boot on top of a pole. Who put it there, why would only one boot be on a pole? I have no idea, but for sure, this boot fit better on the pole than the shoes did on that poor woman's foot.

Thanks for stopping by.

What's on your plate?

"Cause I'm on my way to Tennessee

Singing "Georgia On My Mind"

Chasing what they say's a dream

Thinking maybe it ain't mine."

If you ever walk through an enormous parking lot at a mall—especially during the holidays—you will find there are many people who have travelled a long distance to shop. Today's "Snap. Shot" is not about shopping—I don't enjoy shopping—it's about letting people know where you come from, a nick name, or a favorite passion your support. It's what you will find on many license plates.

Here in Illinois we are determined to remind anyone who wants to know, this is "The Land of Lincoln." Of course our 16th President was not born here, but we have let everyone know, he lived here. If he had not won the presidency, and I believe it was close, I assume we would have "Land of corrupt politicians" or something like that on our plates. 

Having grown up in the "Show-Me State," I remember many times when the plates were removed and hung in our garage. This was when they changed the colors of the plates frequently; now they just give you a sticker to peel and place on the corner or in the middle to show you have paid the fee.

States like Vermont have "Green Mountain State" on their license—you can tell I have not spent much time in the state, I really don't know anything about "Green Mountain" or Louisiana being "The Sportsman's Paradise," and/or Pennsylvania who provides the URL code to discover more about what the state has to offer. If you have to get that close to the plate to write it down when you're driving, chances are you will meet someone very quickly who lives there and then exchange insurance information because of the fender bender you created.

Because I am a Bull's fan, I have thought about applying for a custom plate with the Bull's logo and recognition that "I am a FAN." I would suspect when I travel to Milwaukee, Indianapolis, or even Minnesota and attend a game—it might be easy to find my car. It also might be the one with the smashed windows when I return. Don't laugh, I went to Iowa many years ago and my tires were slashed as I slept in a hotel. Why? Illinois was playing Iowa and let's say there was a rivalry. When I asked at the front desk they said, "Yes we heard something outside, but we didn't investigate." That was the last time I stayed at that hotel.

The photo above was taken in Maine. It was on the outside wall of a restaurant we had eaten at and I just thought, "How cool is this?" Probably my favorite on the wall is from Saskatchewan; with pride, this province of Canada, let's everyone know, they are the "Wheat Province!"

Thanks for stopping by.

Hit the road jack.

"Up with the sun, gone with the wind

She always said I was lazy

Leavin' my home, leavin' my friends

Runnin' when things get too crazy

Out to the road, out 'neath the stars

Feelin' the breeze, passin' the cars."

There are many reasons to be on the road. Some have to do with escape, others have to do with making money…I am sure there are dozens in-between.  Whatever the reason, there is something about seeing and being a "part of the journey," no matter where it takes you in life.

This past week most of my family has been away from home; everyone except my self and our dog, Cash. My venture each day was to Chicago and back with a side trip last weekend to Sandwich, IL—-I went to take a few photos of barns. 

I was not around back at the turn of the century—not that last one—the one before it. But it must have been both exhilarating and frightening at the same time, to walk away from the farm, the city or where you called home to discover what was "out there." For many, I am sure they found out it was nothing like they had imagined or wanted to be a part of; for others it was probably the greatest thing to happen to them.

As part of my job responsibilities, I travel. Some would say traveling around the Midwest is anything but glamorous, but think about something—if I traveled to all of the exotic places in the world, and had to work while I was there, what would be the difference between Des Moines and Dubai? The only differences I can come up with are—jet lag, air miles earned, and missing out on family activities. (I have missed more than a few.) So, if air miles are worth it—hit the road.

If you have seen the movie, "Up in the Air" you get an understanding of what a "road warrior" is all about. It's learning the tricks of getting through security faster, having meals alone, and if you're really lucky, earning some perks to share with your family. The perk that I use most are the air miles—sometimes the free hotel nights. 

Recently on a flight back home, I met two people on my Southwest flight heading from Minneapolis to Chicago; one was a man, the other a woman. Both were road warriors, however one made the decision that family was more important than the road and elected to leave consulting and take a job closer to home. It was the guy. He had lived in California and for a long period of time, as he described it, "I passed through our home to the next location." He made good money (I believe him) but had a "bad" life. 

The woman worked for the Hard Rock Hotel chain and was literally on the road 5+ days a week. Three marriages down and one on the way, she was trying to figure out if it was all worth it?  At the end of the flight—she said, "it was." I was surprised by her response but I suspect this is just who she is and who she will be until her last flight.

I don't travel nearly as much as these two people did and/or do—but I can say, when my family is out of town, I get a real taste of what it must be like when I am gone. It's just plain weird. 

The photo above was taken on Michigan Avenue in Chicago. For some reason, it reminded me of how glamorous it is to travel. Sit, wait, stand in line, and wait. Ahh…the beauty of travel.

Thanks for stopping by.

Rude.

"Can I have your daughter for the rest of my life? 
Say yes, say yes, Cause I need to know
You say I'll never get your blessing till the day I die
Tough luck my friend but the answer is no!"

I have many friends who have daughters. Many of those daughters have boyfriends. One day, it is likely we as fathers will have to go through the question, if the boyfriend has the decency to ask, "May I have your daughter's hand in marriage?" Or at least something like that.

What will we Dad's say? It all depends on how good of a job we as parents have done in preparing our daughters as to who should be brought to the door.

So far I have had three of our daughters date. So far, no boyfriend has asked the question to me. But I am very certain, all three will one day walk down the alter; I am just hoping they make the right choice, because if they don't, they will likely have a conversation with my wife and I about their choice. 

It's not like I was anyone special to bring home to the family. I have done it twice, have a perfect record of acceptance, but each time I am sure their Fathers  were wondering..."Is this guy going to treat my daughter the way I want him too?" I am also sure there just might have been mixed reviews. Who knows?

Being a Dad is a really tough role. It's not like being a Mom is any easier, I will never know, but there's something about knowing that when I was this guy's age, what was going through my mind. I don't like that. At all.

The boys my daughters have brought home all in all have been pretty good kids; make note, they were not in a position or age to take on the responsibility of being a Husband, Dad, or even someone who would love my daughter for life---they were kids.

Recently a Dad wrote a song in rebut to the lyrics above. A friend of mine at work showed me the story online, it made my day of being the "jerk" Dad who really does care---as in over my dead body.

Here's a quote from the article...“Why you gotta call me rude/for doing what a dad should do/and keep her from a fool like you?” and “If you marry her anyway/marry that girl/I’m gonna punch your face.” He also warns guys that they should “make more than burger and fries” and get out of their mom’s basement if they want to marry his daughter."

I have five daughters and one son. The son was easy and he made a really good choice; I assure you he's much more of a "good guy" than I ever was. But, for the remaining five, I really hope you do find the love of your life, just please make sure he has moved out of the basement. Because, it's likely, I'll be pretty rude.

The photo above is one I can only wish I would have taken. It is of an iconic shot of Muhammad Ali standing over Sonny Liston; this photo is probably one of the finest ever taken in the sport of boxing. Now, anyone reading this who knows me, will say this has nothing to do with the thought behind today's "Snap. Shot"---however, so far no young man has asked me a certain question.

Thanks for stopping by.

The stars in the sky.

"It turned colder; that's where it ends
So I told her we'd still be friends
Then we made our true love vow
Wonder what she's doin' now
Summer dreams ripped at the seams
But, oh, those summer nights
Tell me more, tell me more."

Love that goes bad hurts. Period.

If you have been in love, the real kind, you know it brings about more emotions than you thought were possible. The highs, lows, and everything in-between—it lets you know you are human. 

This time of the year, it seems "summer loves" are in full bloom; yes, sort of similar to Danny and Sandy in "Grease," but I'm talking about the kind that doesn't end with a dance or kiss on the sand—it lives forever in your heart. I know it well and am happy I do…it's incredible.

More than just my wife and kids, although they are most certainly stored smack dab in the middle of my heart, it's the memories that make this time of the year part of who I am today. The feelings, stored images, and emotions make summer the season I love.

It probably began when I was young, and we as a family, would go on road trips to Florida; if my parents decided it was not the year to go there, we would visit my Dad's family in Iowa. Yes, that's a big difference…however, I remember Iowa as well as I do Florida.

Really?

Yes, really.

My Dad was born in Monroe, Iowa. About 12 miles from Pella,IA and 40 or so from Des Moines. His cousins lived in Colfax, a small community to the east of Des Moines. Enough with the geography, this town has molded, in part, who I am today. 

When we would visit, we would usually stay in a hotel outside of town—it was the town where they made Maytag appliances. Pretty much the same hotel each time, and I guess because we had stayed there previously, one year my Dad's name was on the outside board for all to see…"Welcome, Si Rosenbaum." WOW.

My Dad's family was involved in several of the local businesses in Colfax and for some reason, they all had a connection in a weird way. They owned a "scrap yard" (IE. Junk Yard of the olden days), a car dealership, and a car wash. So, if you bought a car, had it washed and then watched it grow old…it went from the dealership, to the car wash, to the scrap yard. Not too shabby—and it had a circle of life.

One memory, and I know my brother and sister will say, "How do you remember these things?" was the "retail establishment" that was not only a jewelry store but also the local sporting goods shop. I have no idea how this happened…I guess it was perfect for women who were looking for jewelry who dragged their boyfriends/husbands along. One summer, when we arrived, we learned the grocery store had burnt down; for someone who loved to eat, and it showed, this was a real tragedy!

It was probably in Colfax where I saw and experienced the concept of "love." Not for me, I was too young, but for the teenagers who lived in the community. They would hang out at the Dairy Queen (not sure if it was a true, "Dairy Queen" but similar) and witnessed how the summer played a huge role in their lives. Holding hands, preening for each other, and the occasional story about how so and so kissed. Whoa. 

Then things changed. The kids grew older, went to college, and some were drafted into the Vietnam war—during this time, America went from being innocent to suspicious. I miss the days that lead up to these changes..as it pretty much ended the family trips to this community. I have been back when I travel to Iowa on business, but no one from the family lives there any longer. The grocery store is gone as is the jewelry/sporting goods store; but there's one thing that still lives…the memories.

The photo above was taken several weeks ago at the Morton Arboretum outside Chicago. Just like the star in the sky, it's really the sun by the way, summer has provided the path way to who I am today—regardless if Danny and Sandy happen to show up.

Thanks for stopping by.

Up in the clouds.

"I've looked at clouds from both sides now,

from up and down, and still somehow

it's cloud illusions I recall.

I really don't know clouds at all."

For anyone who has been or lives in Chicago, you are likely aware of Millennium Park—located off Michigan Avenue. If you have never heard of it, come to Chicago and you find thousands of people milling about exploring this really cool oasis.

It all started about ten years ago when it opened in 2004; originally slated for the millennium, like many things that happen in Chicago, it was delayed. So it became Millennium Park +4. Just kidding, I made that up.

Recently it has come out how the entire project was funded; the article stated, "It was taken care of Chicago style. Over budget, delayed and with the city and its residents holding the bag for payment." Well, that's good old Chicago for you.

However, knowing the number of visitors who come to Millennium Park, it is well worth the angst it has created for the city. It truly is magnificent. Last year we saw the country band, Lady Antebellum at the band shell located on the grounds—for free. In fact, we were in the 10th row as it was part of a concert series that a local radio station was sponsoring.  Although reserved  for people who had won the right to be there—-they eventually opened it up to anyone who wanted to fill the seats and sit on the lawn. It had poured that evening and let's say most had stayed home. I took photos from less than 6 feet from the performers…obviously I was in my glory!

There are several highlights to see when you visit; one would be "Cloudgate," also known as the "Bean." The other would be the two structures that put a "face" on the area—although tough to describe, when water starts spill out of the mouth, you know they have a real purpose. I have no idea who came up with this concept, but I do know who came up with the name, "Millennium Park." It was my wife's first husband, Bill Hagerup. Yes, this is true.

It turns out a local ad agency had the account; they were awarded the project and as part of it, they needed to name it. Bill was the copy writer on the project—and yes, he came up with the name that is now part of Chicago history. How cool is that? Unfortunately, because he worked for the company, he receives nothing more than notoriety that his family and friends know. The agency is gone and so is the credit for naming.

I really don't know if anyone had any idea the impact this park would have on tourism; but one thing is for sure, the number of photos taken in and around it, has got to be approaching millions  and millions by now. How do I know? I have taken thousands myself. Of course, what would you expect?

The photo above was taken a few weeks ago. One of our daughters, who didn't have a broken arm like her little sister, was doing some crazy gymnastic stuff in front of the "Bean." Looking at the photo, she appears to be in the shape of a "T." Knowing how much I enjoy Millennium Park, it seemed to fit my opinion of what this tourist attraction has done for our city—it literally fits it to a ___. You get it.

Thanks for stopping by.

There goes my life.

“He smiles,
’There goes my life
There goes my future, my everything
I love you Daddy, good night
There goes my life’

She had that Honda loaded down
With Abercrombie clothes
And fifteen pairs of shoes
And his American Express.”

As a parent, many of us wish for the day when your child sleeps through the night, learns to talk so we can understand how they are feeling, what's on their mind, and just wanting them to grow so we can get back to normal once more.

Normal? There's no turning back…face it.

A few weeks ago, my son turned 30! Yes, as in "no longer 29 and holding;" he is officially the age when many people start to worry if they are getting old, halfway through life, and other ridiculous concerns that make no sense at all.

What boggles my mind is at 30 I thought I was done having children and would see my future unfold; I was wrong. However, even though I might have been way off base in my calculations, I did know the worries and concerns of parenthood would never end. As in "never."

Right now, my wife and two of our daughters are far away…they are in Nicaragua; my other two daughters are in California. Then my oldest two children are in St. Louis and Dallas—-leaving me with the dog who likes to eat, sleep, poop and be scratched.  In no particular order.

Last night our youngest called to let me know she "misses me and can't wait to see me soon. "Since she called me, I believe her. It was when I spoke with my second youngest that I got the real truth…"Dad I am doing fine, we've gone swimming, shopping and out to eat a lot." I asked, for a little more information and was told, "Well that's what we've been doing, I need to run." 

Watching your children grow, and move ahead, it's inevitable we will lose control of them; yes, they still love us, but just like we did, our parents did, and our parent's parents did—time moves on and they grow up. It's part of life. 

So much happens after they move from "dependence to independence;" this weekend it meant being able to see three movies "I" wanted to see. Even though it felt good to be able to have some freedom, in the forefront of my mind I could not help but wonder what everyone was doing? I found out they were eating, seeing sites, and doing what I would expect, while they are gone—they're having fun. Yes, without me. I'm ok with it. 

The photo above is the plane I entrusted to take my two youngest children, and their cousin who is living with us this summer, more than 2,000 miles from home. I waited and watched the plane taxi away from the gate, suddenly realizing "there goes my life." I knew it would come, I just didn't think as quickly as it did.

I think I'll see a movie tonight.

Thanks for stopping by.

7.22.54

“I was once like you are now, and I know that it's not easy,

To be calm when you've found something going on.

But take your time, think a lot,

Why, think of everything you've got.

For you will still be here tomorrow, but your dreams may not.”

Let’s face it, when we’re growing up we look at dates in the future and think, “Wow that’s a long time from now…I‘ll be how old?” But then, suddenly, the day arrives and you wonder, “How the hell did it get here so quickly?” 

Sometimes it’s difficult to look forward, but it’s essential to look back and see what you have learned and gained from experiences. In my life, my entire 56 plus years, there have been two constants (excluding my folks).

One is my sister, the other my brother.

Today, we focus on the latter as it’s his birthday; I won’t tell you his age, but if you look at the subject of today’s “Snap. Shot.” it should be a give away.

My brother Gary has taught me a lot. He has always been someone who is very passionate about life and also very focused in making the most of it. Two very good traits that can make you either love him, or not love him as much. (I know him from both sides.) Not that I would say I didn’t “love him as much” as in the word “hate” (although I assure you growing up, I used the phrase more than once) it’s just as his brother he did place me in situations where I was not very happy and some times injured. More on that below.

Gary’s passions began at a very young age. He loves to work, loves to wear nice clothes and he is very, very passionate about his family.  I can understand the first and last, but the dressing up nice was always one that was out of my ability to understand. As a teen he wore double-breasted sport coats and at times, an ascot; I mean, really, who wears an ascot? Who, that would be my brother.

Probably my most memorable years with Gary were when we went on vacation in Florida, played hockey in our basement or outside the home, and of course…”Indian Ball” on our street. Don’t know what this is?

http://mrosenbaum123.blogspot.com/2010/04/indian-ball.html

Of course there were many other memories we have had together…I was with Gary when he had his first accident and I believe second one. A woman named Rose Waxman, certainly no longer on this Earth to comment, pulled he car out in front of ours and boom. Luckily the only thing that was damaged was his driving record. It was my brother’s fault. The second one…well…I was not there for it, but sure remember my Dad’s reaction to it.

Or perhaps it was when he was in college and for some reason was receiving an inordinate amount of mail at his college fraternity.  There were records (this was long before CD’s), magazines, books and more---sent to Gary’s dog “Bacchus, Stella Ringading, and others.” He is fortunate that the Post Master General of the day is not reading this right now---he like Rose Waxman, are probably having a conversation about my brother in heaven.

But, there’s the other side of Gary that’s anything but a joker; he was there when my Mom was battling cancer, he is there with my Dad and takes care of huge responsibilities, and he is always there for those who are a part of who loves.

So what could he have done that was so horrible to his little brother?

Yes, Gary I do remember when you hit me in the head with a slapshot, laughed as I went and got the fireworks out of my room to hand to the officer,  and encouraged me to step on the ice of the pond near our home. Thankfully you did first and we know the rest of the story…I appreciate you taking the lead on that one.

The photo above is one I did not take. This is former St. Louis Blues player named, “Gary Unger.” As players in our own league, the Heather Ridge Drive Hockey League (HRDHL) we took on the names of our idols; as the premier goaltender on the block, I was  “Jacques Rosenplante,” and was accompanied by my big brother, who is celebrating a bigger birthday today, “Gary Ungerbaum.”

Happy birthday to you…and congrats on getting to this magical date before I did!

Thanks for stopping by.