The 'Hood.

"I was eight years old and running with a dime in my hand

Into the bus stop to pick up a paper for my old man

I'd sit on his lap in that big old Buick and steer as we drove through town

He'd tousle my hair and say son take a good look around this is your hometown."

Throughout our lives, chances are we will move from one location to another. Some will move more than others, and there are some who will live in the same house for their entire life. I have moved several times, but nothing like my wife has experienced.

For the majority of my youth, Chesterfield, Missouri was my turf…literally. When you grew up in the St. Louis area, you really didn't venture too far away from your home base. Sure we would go to the mall and places within a few miles from home, but nothing like we experience in Chicago where kids will take the train to the city, go to the beach or some other destination, and then head back to the community where you live. 

Home was always a safe place. We knew as long as we were able to pull into the driveway,  there would always be someone to greet us. However, when you move, or you leave the nest, a part of you stays. Even though I will likely never go back to my childhood home, I am funny about that, it's likely I will read about it in "Snap. Shot." It seems so much easier and less intrusive that way. Weird? Of course, that's me.

Today we live in a time when connecting with those who you grew up with is a simple click of a few keys. It's easy to catch up on Facebook or other social media. Many people I am in touch with I have not seen in a while…rather, decades.

In September, a number of my fraternity brothers will be reuniting in Colorado. Reunions are interesting; certainly since many of us lived in the same house for 2 to 4 years, we know (or at least think we remember) the guys who went from strangers to brothers. But how have they changed in 30-something years? In my mind they are likely the same as they were when we shook hands and said, "Have a good life" all those years ago. There really was no way to remain in touch unless we lived in the same city or were wealthy enough to spend a lot of money on "long distance" phone calls. Again, this should be interesting.

Going back to the 'hood is a struggle; I know it will always bring back memories—some good, some not as good—but in the end, bringing the memories of old back to the forefront, is always worth it. I just need to prepare for it.

The photo above was taken recently at the cemetery where many of my family members now reside; my parents, grandparents, aunt and uncle (as well as a fraternity brother) all call this neighborhood home. There is one thing I do know, every time I am scheduled to venture back to my home town—this is one "hood" I will always put on the "to visit" list.

Thanks for stopping by.

The riddle.

"I guess we're big and I guess we're small

If you think about it man you know we got it all

Cause we're all we got on this bouncing ball

And I love you free

I love you freely."

Looking back, it's always fun to think about where I have been, and hopefully where I am going. One is much more accurate than the other—yet, one is more intriguing. I suspect you can guess which is which. If not, re-read the first line!

Every day when I get home, I ask, "So how was school?" Not that I expect much of a response, but every so often I do receive one beyond…"It was okay." To get beyond this basic non-response, you have to do a little pushing. I have found "nothing new" ever happens in school, so don't even bother on that one; I have, however, threatened to call their teachers and ask why nothing is happening in the classroom? They don't think I am very funny.

However, now the conversations are getting more interesting and scary; suddenly boys have entered the picture. Not my youngest, to her they're still "pretty gross," but for our second youngest, "there is a lot of interest." I hear a name and ask, "So do you like him?" I receive, "No Dad,are you kidding?" Of course this really means, "yes I do or at least maybe."

Liking someone is a big deal; as we mature, and learn from the cool kids that having members of the opposite sex pay attention to you, is what starts the process. A process I think is too young—but then again, I suspect I was just as interested all those years ago. (Very confused by it all—but still interested.)

The other day there was a "meeting" at a local playground. Now, keep in mind, they do NOT like these boys. Not at all. It was an April Fool's joke to make one of these naive fools think that they actually liked him—as well as another friend who was there too. I dropped both my daughter and a friend off, and picked them up an hour later—they certainly can't drive; the innocence brought back those wonderful memories of complete awkwardness.

When I came back to pick them up, the girls were sitting on the swings with their legs twirling, and the boys sat on their bikes making every attempt to be cool.  They didn't see me at first; it was very obvious they really didn't "want to be there," especially if laughter, running around, hair twirling and every cue were any indication.

As we drove home, the two girls spoke very quietly in the back seat. A giggle here, a few muttered words there. My question broke the silence. I said, "So, how was the April Fool's joke, did it go over well?" Of course it did—-I learned---and they really do not like either one of the boys! 

The photo above was taken by the "bean" in downtown Chicago. My daughter is very involved in gymnastics, as is her best friend. Together they hang out as much as they can—certainly not a problem, unless you are the two boys at the park. Because neither one of the girls likes them!

Thanks for stopping by.

Above the clouds is a better day.

"Today was gonna be the day

He'd already wrote the note

And parked that Chevrolet

At the end of that dead end road

Had his finger on the trigger; just about to end everything

He was taking one last long breathe; when he heard his cell phone ring."

There's little doubt that spring is the time to lift your mood; but for some, it doesn't matter what season, day or time of the year it is—when there are dark clouds, it's the same, day-after-day.  

This blog is not to bring you down, it's actually one to remember those who need a call, note, or message, knowing you are out there. Over the many years of my life, I have experienced more than I could have imagined and I didn't always "reach out." 

Life has its challenges—when you see friends going through tough times, any person who really cares, wants to make sure they are accessible to just talk. Whether it's face to face or on the phone, when there's pain, it's amazing what kind/caring words can do. Recently I had a conversation with a former business associate who had lost his job; he is a true friend and I let him know it. Yes he is hurting, and scared as he has gone through change beyond work, but his response was, "You know Mark, I am going to take the week off—my son is on spring break— and I am going to enjoy it." I could not have heard better words.

Sure there's the reality when the week is over, but knowing this person, he will charge forward. 

Now I am one who does not always call, text, or send notes, but I am going to do a better job. Right now there is a lot of change in the air; I know of people who are seeing marriages dissolve, children who are not well, and employment insecurities. It's not fun to see, especially when you have been through it; but sometimes experience can actually help. Today I ran into a friend who has really gone through a tough time with a child. Harder than I could ever imagine nor do I ever want to experience. The stress has been intense, but as a couple she and her husband have stood mightily and now, after a long period of time, they are witnessing improvement. Slow and steady—but improvement. From desperation to belief that this will be conquered.

When I saw this person, a comment was made that she felt bad they had not had us to their home for dinner; I am sure she read my thinking—my mouth literally opened up with nothing to say. (Not normal) I said, "Are you kidding me? Please know I am so happy to hear what you just told me that nothing could ruin it." She smiled. She needed to smile.

The photo above was taken several weeks ago. We had prepared for a trip to Nicaragua and it was actually going quite smooth. We had arrived at the airport early, the check-in line moved along and we were well in advance of the flight—then it happened. We learned both of our youngest daughter's passports had expired. This photo was taken after we realized all hope was lost and we were not going. In other words, it was taken well after the meltdowns and the realization all would be okay. 

Tonight, do someone a favor..call them and tell them our story, I am sure they will get a good laugh. 

Thanks for stopping by.

I'm a loser.

"I'm a loser

I'm a loser

And I'm not what I appear to be

Of all the love I have won or have lost

There is one love I should never have crossed

She was a girl in a million, my friend

I should have known she would win in the end."

At one point in our lives we have come up on the short end and lost. If not, do you have the lottery numbers for this week's big game? Call me.

Losing is not fun, never will be; but when you learn to accept, "you can't win 'em all," I really do believe it's one of the most important lessons you can learn as a child, adult or in between. Not to say we enjoy losing—winning is much more fun—but if you can be graceful about it, others will feel much better about your good luck. You hope at least!

Living in Chicago for more than half my life, I have learned in many respects "losing is the norm" for many of our sports teams. Sure, the 90's were great for the Bulls, and this decade has been good for the Blackhawks (the White Sox won in 2005) but the Cubs, well that's a different story. They are approaching the time when no living human will have been around when they last rose the championship flag. Am I upset? Not at all.

But there are other aspects of losing that are much more difficult to accept than whether your favorite team raises the cup, trophy or flag. If you are a reader of "Snap. Shot." you are likely aware I have witnessed loss in the past couple of months; yes it is on my mind, and it's much different than losing a game, bet or piece of business. (Business is however very difficult to deal with!)

One of the most challenging things you can lose in life is a friend—especially when they were at one time, someone you trusted and told your deepest secrets. Today's blog is not about losing a friend, it's about going back to the time when you made them and cherishing you did. 

Last night, I was lying in bed with my youngest daughter when she told me about a secret she would not tell me, my wife or anyone except for her best friend. She was very sure she could do it. Well, that's for about 2 minutes. I learned, and I would be in major trouble if I gave details, that they both liked the same boy. She's 10…I am in real trouble. Again.

I learned that even though she liked this boy, and so did her friend, she was willing to give him up for her. I asked, "Are you sure?" She was. But, her friend wanted my daughter to tell him that so and so liked him; obviously nothing has changed from grade school. "What happens if he doesn't like her?" I asked. She said, "Well he will." That's confidence for you—more than that, that's true friendship.

Over the past few days I have spoken with my best friend from high school. We go way back, and it's amazing how we can both still entertain one another with our immaturity; in other words, we have not changed. Sure maybe we are older, but if traveling back 40 years is an issue for some, it's nothing for us. I am glad, however, he didn't ask if I would find out if so and so liked him or not. Although I would ask if he needed to know.

The photo above demonstrates why I came in second to last place in this year's NCAA tournament. Although I was tied for last place… my combined final score number pushed me up a notch. (Too bad..the person in last place got their money back). 

I have never been good at picking winners…but fortunately, I am really good at picking long-lasting friends. 

Thanks for stopping by.

The End Of The Innocence.

"Remember when the days were long

And rolled beneath a deep blue sky

Didn't have a care in the world

With mommy and daddy standin' by

But "happily ever after" fails

And we've been poisoned by these fairy tales

The lawyers dwell on small details

Since daddy had to fly."

This is a day I never wanted to witness. This is the day, the home, where I grew up, will have a different name on the mailbox.

In 1964, my parents made a bold move. They packed up the family and moved from the middle of St. Louis County to the edges of it. I can only imagine the questions raised by both my Mom and Dad's parents, friends and others—-"You're moving where?" Although it was only about 20 minutes to the West, you would have thought it was another "time zone" based upon what people did, and didn't do, back then. Mind you, we were still getting used to the Beatles and their "mop tops," yet alone moving to the far reaching Western suburbs of the city.

I remember when we first moved into the area how much farmland there was; rather, I remember how few houses there were—we in the true sense, were pioneers. The homes that are now approaching 50 years old were only empty plots of land when we arrived 51 years ago. Some had recently been made into homes—and many had corn growing up through the recently planted grass. (Considering there were few grocery stores nearby, this was an added bonus.)

Living there was great—I would not change a thing. However, for my Dad it was a daily journey to the office..probably 40 miles away in Collinsville, Illinois. He did a lot for our family and sacrificing his time for us was one of the biggest gifts he gave us. My Dad was a very good provider and an excellent businessman—however, to be honest, he was not a very good baseball catcher. (He missed a ball one time and seams were implanted on his forehead.) In later years my Mom showed her finesse and grit in the hosiery department at Stix, Baer and Fuller. She was a top producer-- selling and loving every minute of it, plus we learned of Mr. Bono (not Sonny), Jim Kinney and other characters from the soap opera that took place in that store.

Our home was a meeting place after school and work. The table in the kitchen was occupied by all of us and nightly dinners were the norm, never the rarity. If those walls could talk there would be some very funny stories. Fortunately they can't, and whereas I found the humor to be  funny, I suspect others would not get it. Ah, the family unit--can't beat it.

Did our home witness some tough times? Of course, we are after all human. While we lived there, we witnessed a tornado flying over head, our car hitting both the side and back of the garage (not me), and best of all, my sister showing her proficiency in bike riding as she fell over into the brick wall next to the driveway. We have it on tape! Good thing her husband is the cycling enthusiast. 

So here we are, at 10AM this morning, the deed was handed over to the new owners. They are actually very familiar with the neighborhood as her parents grew up next door. Now, they as a family, will own three homes on Heather Ridge Drive…all located right next to one another. If this were Monopoly, they would probably qualify for placing a hotel on the property and charging more for "rent."

Up until the time I left for college, this was pretty much the only home I knew; since I was six when we moved in, it was not only my safe haven, it was the life I cherished. Now someone else owns it. Damn.

The photo above is one that has been on "Snap.Shot." so excuse me for repeating myself. In August, 1964, we as a family moved to the neighborhood I will always call home---oh, and if you were to look far to the right beyond the edge of the picture, near the driveway, that was where my Dad missed the ball. (Thankfully the seams went away in about 15 minutes.)

Thanks for stopping by.