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.

Jersey’s for sale---cheap.

"I like slam dunks that take me to the hoop
My favorite play is the ally-oop
I like the pick-n-roll, I like the give-n-go
And it's basketball, Bow Wow, let's go." 

It seems like just yesterday when LeBron James made his epic quote, “I’m taking my talents to South Beach.”He did and it left a city well to the north wondering, “How could he do this?” It was a very good question. 

Move forward 4 years and suddenly the talents he took to South Beach have returned home; it took a lot of guts then, looks like they never left four years later.  The difference? We learned Cleveland is a very forgiving city! I am not sure Chicago would have responded the same way. 

Whereas I am probably not the only one who has been watching this situation unfold, it’s kind of amazing that he actually did it. I really used to wonder what the city of Cleveland was thinking when they said they would love to have him back on their team. It wasn’t like I didn’t believe their desire, it was more about the slim chance of it actually happening. I mean, come on, they were one of the worst teams in the NBA last year. Not as bad as other teams—Milwaukee and Philadelphia—but not much better---and they thought LeBron would come back? 

So why does this happen? How can one person, who can place a round ball inside of a hoop, receive this type of attention? He’s LeBron. 

But what real effect did this have on Cleveland and the basketball team that was left in the dust and then in one day rose from the darkness?  Okay, a bit extreme but you tell that to the city that burnt his jerseys, cursed his name, and slammed the door on his ever being welcome again. In two words…a billion dollars. Yes, today the franchise went from being valued at about $500 million to $1 Billion. 

When you multiply what’s about to happen in ticket, jersey and other related sales, what is a cheap jersey in one city, is now once again priceless in one far to the north.As a basketball fan, I could not be happier; I am not a fan of the Heat, but have always felt Cleveland, and its Cavaliers, were “acceptable” to root for---as long as they didn’t beat the Bulls. (That could change!) 

When I learned that Cleveland was in the running for the “King” to return, I sent an e-mail to a client who was, like the rest of her city, very disappointed, hurt and deeply upset, when his“ talents were taken to South Beach” in 2010. I contacted her again today and it certainly appeared “Christmas arrived in July.” I am sure they now realize the days of number 1 draft picks are behind them---I am sure they are willing to give those up. 

The photo above was taken in Milwaukee last year. “The King” was holding court and the Bucks were about to get trounced. Now a little more than a year later, the Heat has found out what it feels like when talents shift from one city to another. Enjoy the NBA draft next year South Beach...should be fun! 

Thanks for stopping by.  

Thanks Betsy and the rest of the gang.

"O beautiful for spacious skies,
For amber waves of grain,
For purple mountain majesties
Above the fruited plain!
America! America!
God shed his grace on thee
And crown thy good with brotherhood
From sea to shining sea!"

For me, and most everyone, this is a very patriotic time of the year. Sure there's the obvious—the 4th of July—but it's more than just one day and a bunch of fireworks, parades and such. With blue skies in greater abundance,  summer finally here— more flags are gracing porches, store fronts and poles around the US. The red, white and blue are rich in color, flowing across the plaines, concrete kingdoms, and most important—-in the hearts of Americans all across the land. 

This is why I love this time of the year.

Sure, it doesn't hurt the weather is what we all pray for during the grey skies of winter in the Midwest, but there is something magical about seeing a huge flag in the distance expanded outward with ripples flowing through it. If you have trouble visualizing this, I suggest you step outside, take a walk or drive down your street, and come back to read "Snap.Shot." as it will then make much more sense to you.

For the last few days I have been in Kansas City, MO; this is by far one of my favorite towns I cover for business. It's a hidden gem. Even traveling through the airport is easy. You don't have to go through long lines and walk miles to the gate. You literally walk up to the gate, stand in line, and voila you're in. I assume they didn't get the memo about how travel is supposed to be a pain. 

While in KC, I was fortunate to see some of the largest, most beautiful, flags; I saw them on buildings, in windows and as noted in the photo above…in Union Station. Normally I don't discuss the photo until later, but this location reminded me of Grand Central Station in New York. Only difference…less people, clutter and chaos. It was like Old Glory just hung as the hero of the hall. From any angle, it took center stage. It was just beautiful. I believe every large building should have a gigantic flag on its wall.

While there, literally hundreds of children milled about waiting to go into a room and watch a movie about the history of Union Station. I watched…and noticed…not one of them even saw the flag was right above them. Part of me was happy to be able to spend time appreciating its presence one on one, but part of me was sad it was being ignored. The flag is the most important symbol of America…at least in my eyes. I am sure the Michael Jordan Statue outside the United Center would get some votes…not as I see it. 

The lyrics and photo above are very important to me. During the weekend after September 11, I was in Temple for the High Holidays; for the first time, the congregation sang, "America The Beautiful;" it lived up to the name…it was and is a beautiful song. For the first time I really read the lyrics—a real tribute to the land I am proud to call home. Like the lyrics, there is nothing more beautiful than Betsy Ross's work from so long ago, I am just happy it is so well displayed cross the land.

Thanks for stopping by.