Bye Mom.

 

“Bye mom

That's what I said at five years old the first day of school

Already then I thought I was way too cool  

I thought I had it figured out

And I didn't know a thing

Bye mom

Don't worry 'bout me, I'll see you at three at the bus stop

And I know that you'll be right there to pick me up

In the old truck.”

There’s a level of innocence when you’re young, and a belief that all will stay the same as you grow up. Every morning was a routine...waking up, rubbing my eyes, and then off to the kitchen to see what awaits. For me, it was usually some sugary cereal. Not because my Mom didn’t prepare something, I went for the toys and other insignificant items that hid inside the cereal box. I should have had eggs like she suggested.

My Mom took very good care of her family—and when my Dad was away at work or on a business trip, she was in charge. Actually, she was pretty much in charge when my Dad was around as he was a “very kind, laidback person.” (Don’t get me wrong, I did see him get mad a few times, but in general…he was not one to explode.) 

Of what I remember, my Mom was home every day when I got off the bus; I had a habit of running to the end of our driveway… and then casually walking into the house, letting her know I was home. My first words, “I’m hungry.” If you saw me at age 6, you knew I couldn’t be that hungry as I was a pretty large boy.

“I know that's just the way it is

When you think you grown but you're still a kid

And you don't know you're somebody

That somebody loves more than themselves

And there's a beauty in the innocence

Of not knowing that the time they've spent

Is more than one could ask for

And that's a special kind of love

And it's only there for a lifetime, then it's gone.”

My Mom, as I have said before, was “My First Love.” Sure there have been other “loves” since coming into this world, but I know for sure when I came out, her first thoughts were…”welcome to our family and I love you.” I don’t remember when it started, but she had a nickname for me— she called me, “Mr. Moke.” I have no where it came from, but I remember checking to see if it was available on Missouri license plates when vanity plates became available. In the end I was too cheap, and just went with whatever was sent to me—-a hodgepodge of letters and a few numbers. I should have gone with the vanity plate, she would have loved it.

She loved her family—-and it was unconditional. Sure, there were times when I disappointed her, but she never held anything against me and fortunately had a fleeting memory. One time I actually thought she was going to wash my mouth out with soap—this was a very popular saying when I was growing up, and it was really close to happening. I talked my way out of it….always the sales guy! (Fortunately she didn't "break my neck" like she would threaten, that would have been more permanent.)

“And it's bye mom

You can drop me off down the block around the corner square

Oh, my bud is waiting for me just over there

I’ll see you later on

Bye mom it's a cap and a gown in a brand new town eight hours away

Don't cry, I'll be okay.”

Since I was the youngest, I know there was relief, and sadness, when I went off to college; now that I am on the verge of this happening with our last child, although still a couple of years away, I know it will change my life and my wife’s forever. I suspect we will look at one another and wonder how this all happened so fast?

My Mom didn’t go to college—many women her age married young, had a family and lived a much different life than we do today. I am so thankful she decided to devote so much of her life to me, my brother, sister and Dad. Thank you Mom—and thanks for making mushroom and barley soup—-it’s still my favorite and it’s all because you took the time and care to do it.

And bye mom, I sang a million morning at the Brine Street baptist church

And bye mom, I waited hours and hours till she got off of work

And bye mom, I stood and cried and laid a rose onto her grave

And bye mom, were the last words that I spoke before we sang Amazing Grace

And it's only there for a lifetime, and it’s “Bye Mom.”

Okay, if anyone has ever heard me sing, and is aware of my religion, you know I never sang a million songs in a church. But one song I know she loved was a song sung every year on Yom Kippur. It’s Kol Nidre. Many, if not most of you, have no idea of what I am talking about—-but when I hear it every year, my thoughts turn to her and I know she is enjoying it from far above. Even thought she loved it, I never sang it. You're welcome Mom, I saved you some pain by keeping my mouth shut.

My Mom was spirited and fun; when we learned on my birthday all those years ago that “something was wrong,” I was hoping that everything would be okay; but it wasn’t, and we had to say, “Bye Mom” way too soon.

The photo above was taken about 9 years before my Mom left us; I prefer to remember her this way than those last days...memories are gifts you keep, and this one is under lock and key.

Barbara Ellen Rosenbaum passed away on November 18, 2009. Not a day goes by when I don’t think about her, or my Dad; I know they are proud of the family they created and for sure are having mushroom and barley soup with friends and family all while watching over us.

“Bye Mom.”

Thanks for stopping by.

Weather or not?

 

“Talkin' to myself and feelin' old

Sometimes I'd like to quit

Nothin' ever seems to fit

Hangin' around

Nothin' to do but frown

Rainy days and Mondays always get me down.”

This time of year should be one we desperately look forward to. I mean after all winter is pretty much behind us, yet for some reason it keeps rearing its head up from the mud and dirt on the ground. 

Today it was in the low 30’s here in the Chicago area; if you travel a few hundred miles to the south, you might think you are on a different planet because the temperature is 40 degrees warmer. To all of those to the south, please send the weather this way!

Talking about the weather is a common topic everywhere, but I would think since the Chicagoland area is the butt of many jokes, we probably talk about it as much if not more than other parts of the country.

One of my favorite times to watch the news is when we are expecting some wicked weather. It might be rain, snow, or heat, but when it’s coming…the weather person gets top billing and they are as serious as can be. This is their time to shine when the weather isn’t. I remember a few times when we knew a thunderstorm was on its way and the weather map was red in areas around the city—-you would have thought the weather person had won the lottery. 

Weather comes and goes, but fortunately we learn to deal with what Mother Nature brings to us each day. I am going to hope we have spring here soon in Chicago because I am really sick of what we she is sending our way and not the rest of the country. 

The photo above was taken years ago on Michigan Avenue in Chicago; the weather that day went from snow to sleet to rain to sun. In other words, it was Chicago weather, something you either get used to…or you move.

Thanks for stopping by.

Against all odds.

 

“But we can't stop this real world from spinnin' us

Your bright lights called, I don't blame you for pickin' up

Your big dream bags are all packed up and ready to go

But I just need you to know.”

There are more than 5.1 million football players in the United States over the age of six. So, when you go to a local game on a dusty lot or in a high school stadium, you know there are dreams happening right in front of you. Now start to do the math and you realize that those who make it to the next level, and levels beyond that, you whittle down the number significantly. (If you think 5.1 million is a lot—there are more than 3X that number of baseball players.)

I remember when I was a boy, I wanted to be a hockey goalie; not just a street hockey player, I wanted to be in the NHL! I should have realized there was no way—especially when you consider there are less than 600,000 players in the U.S., and 2 goalies per team. The odds of winning the lottery were much better!

My favorite team were the St. Louis Blues. They had two goalies and one of them was a former all-star named Jacques Plante—or as I used to say, when I slipped into the role of goalie—-Jacques Rosenplante. If you are laughing, there was another player on the Blues named Gary Unger—-who became in my brother’s eyes…”Gary Ungerbaum.” Needless to say, we were living in a strange world.

But, as crazy as we were, there are men and women who made it!

Yesterday, I was talking with an associate and he told me his cousin played for the Chicago Cubs. He had been in the minors more than the majors, but he made it. He sent me a YouTube video, replaying his cousin’s first home run. It was a grand slam and because of this massive hit, “MY” St. Louis Cardinals were eliminated from making the playoffs that year. I should have been angry, but I thought it was cool. I mean, how many people go from a pool of 15 million to the pro’s? This guy did!

I never made it beyond street hockey, but when I was playing I did dream I was on the ice, with my pads and stick in my hands stopping pucks from the some of the greats who were playing during those days. It is something I still think about it today.

The photo above was taken a number of years ago; I made some changes with software and it went from a great play to a stratospheric move into space. As it turned out, I learned this player stopped playing football, but since he went to Harvard I am not concerned about his not making the pro’s!

Thanks for stopping by.

The skies the limit.

 

“I’m learning to fly but I ain’t got wings

Comin’ down is the hardest thing

I’m learning to fly around the clouds

But what goes up must come down.”

I think deep down, I have always thought about how cool it would be if we could fly. I learned the reality early in life that we are not meant to do so, but I still have daydreamed about it many times.

The thought of being able to soar above buildings and look down is a visual I would love to photograph—-it will likely be from a drone. One of my bucket list wishes is to be in New York or a large city (one with congested buildings) and capture that image. If you don’t know what I am talking about, on some TV shows the opening scene you’ll see it.

I do have a way of “possibly” getting this done. When you ride to the city by train, you see many of the same people over and over again. Eventually you strike up a conversation and get to know them; in this case, I got to know both of them as they were a couple who commuted in together. 

One day it came up that he was a pilot and owned an airplane. He was the first person I have known who owned one, and the first who offered me a chance to go take pictures. Although it has yet to happen due to the pandemic, I did see him recently and the topic came up.  He said, “when things are better, I’ll take you.” He knows what I am looking to shoot and I would say there is a 12% chance it will happen. I think it’s illegal to violate the airspace above the buildings.

So back to flying.

I have written before about my adventure on an open cockpit bi-plane, if back then we had a GoPro I would have worn it. But since they had yet to be invented, it lives in my head as an incredible memory. One that I will not do again—-I am not sure my equilibrium could handle it. 

The photo above was taken several years ago. I had always wanted to photograph skiers in flight. We were at a ski resort that was having a horrible season. They set up a ski jump and I politely “begged” to be place myself by the edge of the jump and the large landing pad that the skiers would land on. It was amazing. So, I still can’t fly, and I still won’t go on an open cockpit bi-plane, but that afternoon I felt 100% free.

Thanks for stopping by.

Booksmart.

 

“The book of love is long and boring

No one can lift the damn thing

It's full of charts and facts, and figures

And instructions for dancing.”

When I was a kid, going to the library was a treat. Our library was a distance away, but of what I remember, we would go find some books, take out our paper card and then the librarian would stamp a sheet in the book—we would then be on our way. What I don’t remember was how they knew who they were loaning the book to ?

While we were there, we would go look at the fish tank which was near the front; I think it just made sense to have something so serene in a quiet place. Of what I recall, some of my favorite books were the Hardy Boys and anything about airplanes—-I don’t know what happen to my passion for reading, but I read very little today. It’s too bad because when you get hooked into a good book, you visit a world between the covers that takes you far away from your every day.

Another way of going to the library was having it come to you. The bookmobile would travel to a specific spot and we would go and check out and return books; you would climb up a few steps, walk inside, and smell the musty scent of books every step you took. 

This is a true story, but to protect the individual I won’t say who it is. I found a book in my parents house that was checked out in 1972. As of 2015, it was slightly overdue. Thanks to a calculator and the internet, I was able to calculate that the book was 15,779 days overdue. If they charge a dime for every day it’s late, that book had a fine of $1,577.90. I am pretty sure that would be more than it’s worth.

The photo above was taken a few weeks ago. Todd Bol from Hudson, Wisconsin created the “Little Free Library” a wooden container placed on a post and filled with books; it was a tribute to his late mother, a book lover and school teacher who had passed away. In our village, you will find at least 25 of these “libraries” available to anyone who would like a book. We’ve come quite a ways from the early days from checking out a book—-I wonder what would happen if that book, which is 49 years, 2 months and 14 days overdue found it’s tardy card holder?

Thanks for stopping by.

Time.

 

“As I was walking down the street one day

A man came up to me and asked me what the time was that was on my watch, yeah

And I said

Does anybody really know what time it is (I don't)

Does anybody really care (care about time).”

For some reason I feel at a loss. I just figured out why; we lost an hour today and honestly I am happy to see it go. 

I love this time of the year. It’s the feeling of life springing back, longer days, and warmer weather. How much better does it get than that? But this past year it didn’t show up like it has in previous years—I am really hoping it makes a huge comeback and make it soon!

Of course we all are aware of time and the effect it has on us. We see time as something that passes slowly some days, and very fast the next; I grew up with a watch on my wrist because I have always wanted to know what time it was. One of the odd things about my wearing a watch is.. “technically” I wear it on the wrong arm. Many times I have been asked if I am left handed? I used to be confused why people were asking until I learned what everyone else knew—you wear it on the opposite arm you write with. Except me.

Nowadays wearing a watch has made a comeback thanks in part to Apple. The launch of the Apple Watch a few years ago, introduced millions of people to the world of having a wristwatch right there within eyesight. Up until then, my kids and it seems everyone else would say, “I just look at my phone if I want to know the time.” 

When I was a kid, when we wanted to know the time, we would call “time and temperature” to get the most accurate information. It seems so long ago it feels funny to write what we did; it feels even stranger to say we called 411 to learn of a phone number or address (it was free) and today, I can’t imagine why I would even consider doing it? It’s all on your phone and I can only imagine what it would cost.

Today I heard once again the impact daylight savings time has on our society and our bodies. Apparently when the time changes there are more automobile accidents, sleep loss and mood disturbance—this is not good of course, but when I see the impact it has on our way of life during the ever welcome spring and summer, I am going to accept it.

The photo above was taken in an office overlooking what is known as  “Trump Tower.” This was the view from an advertising agency and every time I would go into their office, I would say…”I need to bring my camera and take a picture.” This was before the iPhone was available and when if we wanted to know what time it was, we would have to ask or look at on our wrist.

Thanks for stopping by.

The boys are back in town.

 

“And if you want a seat you better come on down

'Cause when the band fires up that old glory sound

This is the moment we've all been waiting for

Lining them up, and the whistle blows.

It has been 490 days since I photographed a football game. If I missed it, you can imagine what the players were going through—especially the seniors!

That last game was great; even though our team didn’t win—-they lost by a point—-as I have said before, “there were no losers!” Then we began the wait. When the pandemic hit last March, I would never have imagined summer or fall activities would be affected. It must have been very difficult on Hallmark, Walmart, and every other store that sells seasonal merchandise….I wonder if they had it in the back and are now bringing it out. 

We all know the date for St. Patrick’s Day, 4th of July and approximate dates for—Memorial Day, Labor Day, and of course National Chili Dog day. (By the way, it’s July 29th this year.) I can imagine the number of paper products and cups must have collected some major dust.

Which brings me back to football. This morning I was fortunate to photograph a scrimmage game our varsity team had; I got there what I thought was early, but there were many people waiting to go find a seat. The protocol to enter the field was pretty extensive—temperature check, form to be filled out, and I was not allowed to be within 30 feet of the players. The way I guesstimated how far away I would have to stand, was as simple as looking at the field markers…10 yards.

The photo above was taken this morning. After the scrimmage, the players all kneeled and listen to the coach; it put a thought in my head. Using software, I thought it would be cool to think about the past year and how we have gone full circle from “fear” and soon to be “cheer.” Welcome back football, we missed you.

Thanks for stopping by.

Bring on the noise.

 

“Every room, every house, every shade of noise

All the floors, all the walls, they all shake with noise

We can't sleep, we can't think, can't escape the noise

We can't take the noise, so we just make.”

For the past year, we have been pretty quiet. Sure, you can hear people raising their voices at one another, but since the pandemic hit, masks covered mouths and unless there was an incident, we lived in a fairly boring world. 

But, now it appears that noise is on the way; stands will be filling up, planes will be taking travelers back to beaches, cities and wherever they want to go, and families can once again be families. This is not a fairy tale, this is non-fiction.

Some of the eeriest photos I have seen over the past year are of cities with no one around. Times Square without taxis, Elmo and food wagons; Michigan Avenue with boarded up stores, empty sidewalks and no one visiting the museums—and countless other scenes around the country that seemed completely unbelievable such a short time ago.

We just learned today that our school is going to be re-opening full time starting the first week of April. A few months ago this was most likely not going to happen as things were just not moving in the right direction fast enough. But that was then and this is now. I am so happy these dark times are beginning to lighten. I think what really put it in perspective is when I heard grandparents will be reunited with family members. It brought a smile to millions of faces.

The photo above was taken at the United Center a while back. As the Bulls were closing in on a win, the fans were being instructed to make some noise—and soon they will again.

Thanks for stopping by.

Hindsight is 2020.

 

“Fifteen, there's still time for you

Time to buy and time to lose

Fifteen, there's never a wish better than this

When you only got a hundred years to live.”

Unless you have been out in space, out at sea, or in a hole for the last 366 days (last year was a leap year) you may want to sit down and get ready for this story, it’s truly unbelievable.

There are people who ask, “Where were you when 9/11 happened? When Kennedy was shot?” Now the question will be…”Where were you when you knew the pandemic was real?” I will look back on these times and realize we were put into a place that we were ill prepared to be in, and I hope we take any precautions seriously should it happen again.

The last day of normalcy was a Thursday and I remember walking to work thinking about the “Coronavirus” and the joke that had been going around claiming Corona Beer was the culprit of it all. When I entered the office I knew something was truly wrong. We had emails from our corporate office, very few of my associates had come into the office, and we all kind of realized we would be out of the office for at least 2 weeks. It was like a bomb had dropped. Had we known it would be more than 52 weeks, we would never have believed it—I was in the office about 4 months later and it was the “Twilight Zone.” Nothing had moved. Nothing.

But things are changing, we are coming out of the darkness and I am so grateful to be on the other side; I was hopeful it would happen sooner, but there were many times I was not sure when it was going to happen if ever.

Today, we received the first emails about a football game on Saturday for our local high school. It was apparent by the response of myself and another photographer about how badly we wanted to get back on the field. This is a practice game and he kindly said, “Why don’t you do it?” The funny part, I was prepared to say the same to him. We’ve been communicating this afternoon and I asked for one favor…”since we will know the weather report prior to a game, if we know it’s going to rain, please let me be the photographer that game.” There is something about a mud game that is addicting. He wrote back and said, “Mark, ‘mud’ is your middle name.”

One year later, let’s look back and count our blessings we made it and let’s look back at those who didn’t and send our blessings to their family…it’s been one hell of a ride.

The photo above was taken less than a week before the pandemic shut down the world. I took it for a mailing to the state of Arizona (they were a client of mine) and never did I  think this would be the last time I would be there…now that I have had a chance to look in the mirror, I want to go back. As soon as I get my shot.

Thanks for stopping by.

 

Growing up.

 

“I took month-long vacations in the stratosphere, 

and you know it's really hard to hold your breath 

Swear I lost everything I ever loved or feared,

I was the cosmic kid in full costume dress

Well, my feet they finally took root in the earth, 

but I got me a nice little place in the stars 

And I swear I found the key to the universe

in the engine of an old parked car.”

Growing up is different for everyone. I have heard stories that are similar to mine, and I have heard others that couldn’t be any further to what my early years were like in a suburb of St. Louis, MO.

I really believe a lot has to do with the following: What your parents instilled in you, who your friends were and birth order. I can say my parents instilled what I believe are very straightforward traits—respect others, don’t be too confident, and make sure to say “please and thank you.” This is what I would say they provided me, since my sister now reads “Snap.Shot.” everyday, she might have a completely different perspective. 

Friends are the ones who helped develop my spirit. I went through several sets of them over the years and only one has truly stuck since I was 15. I am fine with this because we talk several times a week and we travel back to the good ol’ days that would have made my parents say, “how did we raise you?” I guess in this respect, the traits they instilled in me kind of fell apart. But boy did I have fun. How I made it through pretty much unscathed I can only attribute to 100% pure luck. 

One of my friends from long ago would drive through the streets—fast—-and if there was a stop, yield, or any type of sign, he would run right through it. Yes, there were close calls but we laughed all along the way. It was one night when I was not in the car when he was traveling too fast and ran off the road and dropped of what I am told was 20 feet below. He was okay, his car was not. That could have been me in the car…but it wasn’t. Again, 100% pure luck.

I was pretty fortunate being the youngest in the family. My parents had already been through all of the dealings of my brother and sister and they were pretty much immune to what I did. Don’t get me wrong, there were a few times when I didn’t get away with it, but I was much more fortunate being the youngest; this is probably why my wife, who was the oldest in her family, thinks I “might” be immature. What??

The photo above was taken at the Willis Tower (AKA Sears Tower) a few years ago. Somehow I convinced someone who I didn’t know, to go out on “the ledge,” which is 1,353 feet above the ground, and do a hand stand. I don’t remember what I said to him, but I am pretty sure I mentioned doing this was all about “growing up.”

Thanks for stopping by.

Go ride a bike.

 

“I get around (get around round round I get around)

From town to town (get around round round I get around)

I'm a real cool head (get around round round I get around)

I'm makin' real good bread (get around round round I get around).”

About 8 years ago, Chicagoans began to see more bikes on streets and sidewalks. I remember them on sidewalks because I would think, “is this okay to do?”  I believe the answer was “no” but it of course still happens today.

The company is called “Divvy” and when they entered Chicago they had 300 bikes to rent. Painted light-blue in color, they also have four stars to represent the Chicago flag. Why is it called Divvy?  Think “divvy it up” and sharing the ride with others. Based upon how the system has grown to nearly 6000 bikes, I would say it appears to be working!

When I was a kid, my “wheels” were bikes; I had several of them, because as I grew, the bikes didn’t grow with me. The one I remember most was a blue bike with a “banana seat”; there were a few other things I remember about it, but for sure the most memorable was the seat. It was made of plastic, and would literally “bake” in the St. Louis sun during the summer—because I would wear shorts, you can probably guess how painful it was when I got on to ride.

This past fall we went bike riding in our community. We went to a friend’s house and I was told, “we have a bike for you to ride.” They sure did. it was a racing bike with a seat that didn’t have an ounce of padding on it. Not one ounce. I got on and we were on our way. I figured we would ride for about 20 minutes and we would be done. I was wrong. We went for more than 8 miles each way—thankfully we stopped for dinner, and then we were off for another 8 mile ride back.

Now typically I have found that going there feels longer than coming back. Well, once again I was wrong. My butt was so sore I was not sure I would be able to stand or sit once we were done. Fortunately I was able to stand and get off the bike—-because the next 2 days I was barely able to move. I learned from our friends that when you ride these types of bikes, you wear padded shorts. I was wearing shorts and the only padding was on my legs and let’s just say they were not enjoying it.

I have not been on a bike since this memorable ride, and whereas I am sure I will again do it one day….if I ever see a bike with the racing bike seats again, I am turning around and either walking or getting back into my car.

The photo above was taken in November in downtown Chicago. As bikes wait for riders, and we wait for the pandemic to end, I know for sure in a few months we will be out and about. For me, I will make sure there is a comfortable seat where I sit.

Thanks for stopping by.

Seasons I love.

 

“Five hundred twenty five thousand six hundred minutes

Five hundred twenty five thousand moments so dear

Five hundred twenty five thousand six hundred minutes

How do you measure? Measure a year?”

You know we’re getting closer to spring when daylight savings time happens; if this is not a right of spring, it sure feels good none the less. I know there have been years where we have received many inches of snow after the first day of spring, so it’s probably just a trick mother nature plays on us when it snows. (After what we have been through for the last year, I would not advise it.)

Obviously we have found out a lot can happen in a year. If there has ever been a time when the word “No” was paramount to our way of thinking, let me help prove this point. Okay, no-sports, entertaining, movies, travel, indoor dining, getting together with friends, swimming pool, life. Yes, it’s been a very interesting place in time and one I do not want to ever visit again!

Prior to the pandemic, seasons were something we cherished. For me, all of the seasons except winter were my favorite. Having grown up in humidity and heat, summer was the time I would look forward to as my time of freedom; I was out of school, we went on vacations, and what was a curfew? Spring and fall were good, but winter was not for me. It’s funny, I guess I talk a good game because I live in the Midwest and although we have 4 distinct seasons— the one I can’t stand, is the longest. 

So why am I not doing anything about it? It has to do with the word, “income.” But once I call it a day, you will likely not see me here in the Midwest any longer unless it is just to visit. Our plans are to move to a place that’s different than anywhere I have ever lived. We are moving to the “land of better weather.” (We don’t know where that will be, but it’s out there somewhere.)

If you have been paying attention to the news, you are well aware that the talk is changing. We are going from “dire to desire” for the good old days. Will they really be as good? I doubt it, but I am pretty confident it will be different than the last five hundred nineteen thousand eight hundred minutes and that’s okay with me.

The photo above was taken a month ago at the Morton Arboretum outside Chicago. The sky was clear, the snow fresh, and the temperature…IT WAS COLD!!! Bring on spring.

Thanks for stopping by.

Before there were electric cars.

 

“Well, my time went so quickly

I went lickety-splitly

Out to my ol' 55

As I pulled away slowly

Feeling so holy

God knows I was feeling alive.”

This may come as a surprise, but for years I have been following oil futures; these futures contracts are what buyers and sellers of crude oil use for delivery for a particular future time frame. It’s all about predicting supply and demand and when they get it wrong, you can see prices either increase or decrease. This past year, for the first time I remember, the demand for oil was so uncertain the cost of a barrel fell below a dollar. 

I remember joking that if I went to buy a can of oil, I should ask the store for money for my taking it off their hands. I didn’t and I assure you they wouldn’t.

When I was first driving a car, my friends and I would drive up and down Olive Street Road in St. Louis; we would be out looking for girls to talk to and meet. Since we didn’t have much luck with that, we would usually end up at Denny’s and either have something to eat or coffee to see how late we could stay up. During those days so long ago, a dollar would get you about 3 gallons of gas. My friends and I would all chip in a dollar and we would have about as much gas in the tank as when we started the night. 

In addition to these ridiculously low gas prices, gas stations also gave out premiums for filling up at their station. Shell gave out steak knives and we had a bunch of them in the drawer where we kept utensils. I don’t remember which station gave out drinking glasses with the local sports team on it, but I remember we had plenty of those too. 

Obviously oil remains very much a part of our daily lives—-but as I have learned over time, oil is much more than gasoline…it’s in the plastic that wraps food, clothing and more than 6,000 products. Yes, you read that right.

The photo above was taken at home nearby; the person who owns the home collects toys and antiques. He has quite a collection of “stuff.” As you can see, gas pumps have  changed a lot since these were found at stations around the U.S. Back then you didn’t put a credit card in a slot, have a TV to entertain you while pumping, and more than likely you never left the car because someone else put the gas in the tank. 

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I can do that!

 

"I took month-long vacations in the stratosphere
And you know it's really hard to hold your breath

I swear I lost everything I ever loved or feared
I was the cosmic kid in full costume dress."

As we grow up, we sometimes think we are invincible—-check that, we do think we are invincible! That is until it is proven we are far from it.

I can say I have done some rather dumb things in my life. I “might” have gone over the speed limit, potentially have used toilet paper in other ways than what it is intended for, and have hung out with others who might have persuaded me to drink well beyond my limits. (But, I didn’t drive!)

When I turned 16, like many of my friends, we got our driver’s license…the first day I had it, I went with my parents to the store. I drove and I guess I “might” have accelerated a bit too fast and left some of the tire behind. Now, my Dad was as calm as could be, but he let me know…”if you do this again, you will not have the car.” I took him at his word and only “laid rubber” when I knew he was not around. I wonder if he ever gave consideration as to why the tires were wearing down so fast? If so, it never came up.

But there were some things I did that I am okay with. I had my first job when I was 15, woke up at 5 AM on Saturday’s to go bake bagels at a local bakery. I needed to be there at 5:30 AM; let me assure you, when you are 15 and you have to get up at that hour on a Saturday morning, you are showing commitment…and I made a whopping $1.65 an hour. 

Because I really didn’t have a defined talent, if I were to showoff, it would be obvious it was a mistake. I remember one time when I played organized hockey, I invited my friends to one of my games. What a mistake that was…I was playing defense and kept falling and the opposing players scored every time I was on the ice. Why didn’t I stop them? I couldn’t skate backwards and that’s rather important in hockey! Oh by the way, that was my last season, but I am glad I played even though I had no reason to be out there and certainly not on defense.

One reason I like to see people show off is they eventually make a fool of themselves. This is a true story: We were at a friend’s house when I was probably 15 and there was a guy who was a couple of year’s older than we were riding a mini-bike. If you are not familiar with them, they’re like smaller motorcycles; they may be smaller but they still go fast. So what did he do? He was riding like he was cool and when he went by us, he went right into a mailbox. He was okay, but we weren’t—-we could not stop laughing and he rode away slowly with his “tail between the exhaust pipes.”

The photo above was taken at one of the Chicago Air & Water Show weekends;  the Blue Angels were flying in formation when one of the planes flipped. Like everyone in the crowd, we “oohed and aahed”—-but you had to wonder if this pilot was showing off. The answer was “Yes” but we were really glad he did! 

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Does advertising really work?

 

“I wish I were an Oscar Mayer Weiner

That is what I truly wish to be 

cause if i were a Oscar Mayer Weiner

everyone would be in love 

oh everyone would be in love

everyone would be in love with me.”

Advertising doesn’t work. I mean if it really worked we would purchase athletic shoes that would cost more than $20, we would drink carbonated beverages instead of water, and why in the world would we need new clothes when the old one are just fine?

I have been in advertising for my entire career. I majored in it while in college, and fell in love with it my first day I entered journalism school. Probably the number one reason I went for advertising was because I was not a good writer. I know it’s a shocker, but ask my freshman

english teacher who gave me my first “F,” and she’ll confirm, I sucked. Fortunately I transferred to another university and the grade was left behind. 

When I began learning about advertising, I knew I wanted to make advertisements and write jingles. Yes, I wanted to be one of those creatives who could bring a detergent, toilet paper or potato chip to life with a song; I soon learned, so did everyone else who was in advertising. I used to watch TV and listen to the commercials—-this was before DVR—so I never knew when they were coming on and would be glued to the tube when they did. Some of my favorites were for Pepsi, Band-Aid, and McDonald’s; they were so well written and catchy, I would dream of what it would be like to be behind their creation. I felt the same way about about magazine advertisements—-but creating them would not be, I got into media sales.

When I moved to Chicago, I was in awe of being in the  same city where some of the greatest advertisements were created—-the Marlboro Man, Poppin’ Fresh, Ronald McDonald, Tony the Tiger and more all had a residence in the city at major ad agencies near or on Michigan Avenue.

Over the years I would have meetings with the clients who “owned” the characters and/or knew the individuals who created them. I remember one time when I was at Maytag, the client was telling me about the Maytag Repair Man; during one meeting, he brought in the hat Jesse White wore in commercials. I know this is going to sound dumb, but I thought I had died and gone to heaven. (I am still alive, but it was cool.)

I look back on these times and can say with all honesty…those were the days. Now with all of the options for commercials, things are not the same. I miss the days of TV, radio and magazines…they were our only options and now we have so many more that in many ways we’re on overload. Fortunately I have YouTube to relive the good ol’ days once more…it figures, I have to use new technology to see the old stuff.

The photo above was taken at The National Museum of American History in Washington D.C.; in this same location are Dorthy’s Ruby Red Slippers, Mr. Roger’s cardigan sweater, and the Star-Spangled Banner flag; just around the corners you’ll find Mr. Peanut, The California Raisin’s and Nipper “the RCA" dog…you know, on second thought, maybe advertising does work!

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