Posted on October 17, 2024
While I was in Chicago last weekend, I lost my credit card, the one I use for almost everything. Like the hotel. And the special spectator area with places to sit and buffets of food. And the fancy coffee.
At marathons, I always wear a light jacket with many pockets and leave my purse behind. It’s much easier to get through the security checks that way. So my driver’s license, the credit card in question, and my hotel key were in a pocket together. The lip balm to which I am affectionately attached was in the same pocket, and I imagine the credit card fell out one of the times I used the balm. (Note to Self: Put balm in a different pocket.)
Usually a lost credit card is cause for concern. Serious. Concern. Possibly. Panic.
So as soon as we returned to our hotel, I called Citibank to report the lost card (which is different from a card that’s been used fraudulently). Within minutes – that is, AFTER I got a human instead of an automated voice that wanted to tell me my balance – my card was cancelled and a new one was issued.
I’m quick to criticize corporate America for its interest in automating everything and making it difficult to talk with a human. My generation still remembers when humans were the standard and not the exception. So I want to compliment Citibank for resolving a problem quickly.
And, yes, I did have another credit card in my purse, so I didn’t have to hitchhike home.
See more 10 Minutes in category Annoyances, Technology
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Posted on October 16, 2024
Recently I agreed to be the chairperson of the On the Fence Committee for the condominium homeowners association where Earl and I live. You might wonder why there’s even a need for such a committee, fences being a rather minor part of the overall association budget.
But after 18 years since the condo development opened, the fences have acquired a lot of baggage. And it’s the committee’s charge to empty those suitcases going forward. It will be a challenge, because even though there are guidelines about the fences in our condo documents, history will note that they’ve not been followed.
We have co-owners with the standard fence recommended by the developer from the start, non-conforming fences that are smaller or larger than the standard, and some co-owners who have no fences at all. There is also the question of who is responsible for maintaining them.
For inspiration, I reread “Mending Wall,” Robert Frost’s poem about two neighbors who meet annually to repair the stone wall between their properties. I thought it might offer some insight into our own fence problem. Instead, it heightened my awareness that fences and walls can be viewed as barriers but still need to be tended. They also deteriorate from weather and various critters. And sometimes they need to be replaced altogether. Or not.
Now I’m ambivalent about my chairperson duties. Before reading Frost, I had a definite idea of what I thought this committee should accomplish. Now I’m not so sure. Suffice to say, the baggage has become heavier.
See more 10 Minutes in category Things to Ponder
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Posted on October 15, 2024
There are exactly three weeks until Election Day in our country. I wish I thought the following 24 hours after would declare the winner. But I’m not sure it will go that way. Instead, there will be contests, disputes, rebuttals, challenges ad nauseum.
Which brings me back to the Chicago Marathon, held just two days ago where none of the contests, disputes, etc. reared their ugly heads. Instead, I saw such support for runners, especially those who had trouble. I saw firsthand three women fall and other runners, possibly trying to break their personal records, stop and help.
Just short of the finish line by maybe one hundred yards there were two women, one helping the other who could hardly stand. But the finish line was in sight, and they were going to cross it. Together.
They did.
Contrast that with the current political scene. There is no helping the other if it doesn’t vote for you. There is no “Let’s do this together.” There is no “I’ll sacrifice my finish time to help you.”
My son Kevin has written a book entitled Shred about the value of running and how it has the power to connect peoples in a positive way. It will never be a bestseller, but it does present a world view that belies today’s political scene.
I urge you to find it, even if you don’t know Kevin, for a different perspective on running and life. And tomorrow, I promise to move on . . .
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Posted on October 14, 2024
The Palmer House in Chicago has a long history of glamour. And it is a perfect location to stay for the Chicago Marathon held yesterday just two blocks away. I’m sorry to report it disappointed in many ways; and we will not go back.
From the registration upon our arrival, it was a hassle. We’d booked a two-bed room in early August, but when we arrived the hotel had us scheduled for a one bed with a rollaway. In our minds, that doesn’t equate to the same thing. We stood firm and were finally booked in a room smaller than we’d paid for. Still there were two beds. But no reduction in cost.
I won’t regale you with long paragraphs about our experience. But in a nutshell, here are some of the issues: no internet for my computer even though I talked with the hotel’s tech support, peeling wallpaper in the bathroom, peeling paint in the entry to the room, location so close to the “L” that we heard it all night, a junk fee of $25 a day to stay at the hotel, $10 non-alcoholic beer and $19 old-fashioneds (We went to a local liquor store to solve this issue.).
And when I’m checking out there is a salesman telling me that next year’s marathon “package” for four days is only $340 per person. It sounds like a great deal, except I have to prepay now to secure that rate. It seems like blatant up-selling to me.
I assume the Palmer House will email a questionnaire asking how our stay was on a scale of 1 to 10. I’d give it a 2 if I even respond at all.
But then, this blog is my response.
See more 10 Minutes in category Annoyances
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Posted on October 13, 2024
According to the Bank of America Marathon weather forecast, today was a great day to run. The weather was humid but cool as 50,000 runners took their places at the starting line in Millenium Park, which – for the curious – is part of Grant Park.
I was interested in only one of the runners.
I have followed Kevin around the country to watch him run a marathon for over forty years. Perhaps some people think this is crazy, but it is our thing. Today was no exception.
Kevin, at 56, ran a sub-three hour marathon, which puts him in an elite group for his age. He worked hard for it, training in a different way, cross training as well, seeing a chiropractor, and carbo loading. The strategy paid off.
I managed to see Kevin at two of three different locations on the course, as we had planned. But by the time we met after the finish line, I was as spent as he was. I don’t know how many miles I walked from Mile 3 (the first encounter where he got there before me) to Mile 13 where I was screaming and he heard me to Mile 26 where I also screamed and was heard. Then on to the finish line.
For the record, he’s going to loan me a book on walking, so I can improve my spectator skills. Because Boston is six months away.
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Posted on October 12, 2024
NOTE: These blogs are late because of a glitch with my computer during our stay at the Palmer House.
In many ways, Chicago is home to Kevin and me, although we haven’t lived there for decades. But we know the names of the streets that create the north/south and east/west grids that are so helpful for getting around. We know the public transportation system. And we know the names of the neighborhoods: Lincoln Park, Old Irving Park, Roscoe Village, to name a few. Kevin has run this particular marathon a number of times, so he’s also familiar with its route and the neighborhoods it weaves through: Near North Side, Pilsen, Chinatown.
But I wonder how someone coming from another place to run the Chicago Marathon for the first time manages. With over 50,000 runners and their family support teams added to the already bustling city, I imagine some visitors resort to Uber rather than public transit. Others possibly eat in the hotel where they’re staying, especially if the hotel has a Starbucks. And others fly in the day before the race, just in time to get their race credentials, and fly out after the race.
For Kevin and me, even if we don’t visit tourist sites like the Art Institute just a block from our hotel, it’s a trip down Memory Lane. We remember concerts we attended years ago, baseball teams that commanded our fickle interest, really good food, and pizzas. Definitely pizzas. Preferably deep dish. Like we had tonight at Pizano’s.
Regardless of what they do, I hope all those runners from other places leave with great memories of their time in Windy City.
See more 10 Minutes in category Nostalgia, Special Events
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Posted on October 11, 2024
One week ago I wrote about the pending Chicago Marathon on October 13, and my son’s plans to run it with me as the support team.
Today’s the day I take the South Shore commuter train into Chicago and meet Kevin at the Palmer House, our home for the next three days. He has trained well for this event, and our conversation yesterday was about carb loading, where I should stand at various points as he runs by, and where to meet after the 26.2 mile race.
What wasn’t said — because I don’t want to add any stress to his preparation – is that I’ve tried to put in place a security system for my husband who, at eighty-nine, is prone to falling. He’s also prone to doing well when I’m not around. Hopefully, one balances out the other.
I know Earl doesn’t like me to be gone; at the same time, he understands this is how I see my grown children. I follow one around the country to marathons; I spent nine years working in the other son’s company and Zoom with him every week. Both sons live hundreds of miles from us, so it takes concerted effort to stay connected.
While I’m gone, I’ll stay connected with Earl too. Friends are checking on him; he and I will talk or text a couple times a day, and I’ll be home in 72 hours. Should something unforeseen happen, I can get home from Chicago in a matter of a few hours.
In the meantime, there’s homemade navy bean soup, homemade barbecued chicken, and homemade egg salad for croissant sandwiches for him to enjoy while Kevin and I are carb loading with pasta.
Wish everybody luck!
Posted on October 10, 2024
Today’s world is fraught with anger, vengeance, disinformation, climate issues, wars between factions inside a country and others between countries. I’m not sure where it will end, but the apocalypse is possible.
What to do to hang on to hope?
Well, there’s Zzub, zzub as well as there is anything.
Zzub, zzub is the answer to the question: “What do bees say when they fly backwards?”
Zzub, zzub is the first joke my son, now 56, intellectually “got” when he was four. We’ve used it ever since in a variety of ways. Mostly as an affectionate phrase often at the end of a telephone conversation.
Think about it. In its most elemental form, the question and the answer are well suited. But, since my son and I are somewhat existential in our thinking, zzub could be the answer to many things when people have a ‘lightbulb’ moment.
Will there be chaos after the November election? Zzub, zzub. In this case, it could mean “Let’s see what happens if we look at what came before.” Will a certain team win the World Series (which is really misnamed since there are no teams from other countries outside Canada) this year. Zzub, zzub, which means let’s see what came before. And make an educated guess or a critically thoughtful conclusion of what will happen next.
Perhaps zzub, zzub could be a place holder in conversation while people think through their ideas and present them cogently. As in “Let me zzub this and get back to you.”
It’s not really about flying backwards. Rather it’s about the realization that things are connected. And if it’s good enough for bees, maybe we should pay attention.
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Posted on October 9, 2024
Just this morning it occurred to me that the current hurricane season is wreaking havoc not only on parts of our country but also on the election process. And all the while the MAGAs are saying climate control is a hoax.
While FEMA is trying to help such states (Mostly red) as North and South Carolina, Tennessee, and Kentucky to crawl out from Hurricane Helene, here comes Hurricane Milton poised to hit Miami and neighboring communities head on.
Evacuations are the order of the day. Understandably.
But with the election four weeks away, how will these battered states, even with FEMA assistance, help people who are stranded and struggling for basics, set up polling places, document who is registered to vote especially when one’s proof of residence is destroyed, or even find officials to staff the precinct polling places.
Which makes me think this won’t be over on Election Eve. Or the day after. Likely, both sides will try to turn this event to their advantage. And, in the end, we – the people – will be the worse for it.
See more 10 Minutes in category 2024 Election
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Posted on October 8, 2024
I can’t wait for the election to be over; at the same time, I’m afraid of the outcome. All pundits and opinionators and forecasters say it will be close. Which means we will still be a country divided. It won’t be determined on Election Day either, because there will be disputes and disagreements about ballot totals in various states.
Personally, I agree with the forecast that it will be close. But may I be excused for hoping otherwise?
I’d like to see a landslide. Obviously, a landslide in the direction of the person for whom I’m voting. The person who is rational, experienced, committed to the rule of law. The person who, even if we don’t like her, we can still survive four or eight years down the road. I can’t imagine this landslide any other way.
Still . . .
If there is a landslide in the opposite direction, it will show me where our country is headed. It will be autocratic and vengeful. And I’m not sure we’ll survive the next four years. So I’m grateful that I’m old enough not to see much of the future, because I believe a landslide in that direction signals the end of our country as I’ve known it.
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