I took  a mini road trip the other day to a place I'd never been. It was 5 hours up through Wisconsin to Door County. Now, I have to preface this by saying I agreed to take the trip with a friend and her 9 month old to go visit one of her friends and her 2 month old. Yes, I made a conscious decision to do this because I love my friend and her baby and thought it would be really fun. It turned out to be a case of "live and learn". I learned that it's not fair to sit a baby straight up in a chair in the back seat of a car for 5 hours and expect her not to make a sound. I also learned that 9 months is a turning point for a baby and unfamiliar surroundings really aggravate them. And if they're aggravated, they let you know with a long series of whines which could last up to an hour straight. If you're like me and don't have children, you hope to never hear one of those sounds again for the rest of your life. Plus, 9 month olds are active and need to be under constant supervision because they push and pull and eat everything they can get their cute little hands on. So, I determined what we really needed was a playpen. Yes, a big playpen so the baby can safely play and sleep and not have to be watched so mommy and her friend can drink wine in peace. And I'm not talking about those dumb pack n' plays that are the size of a 2 x 2 prison cell. I mean a REAL playpen like I had growing up. Those cages must have had 10 feet of play space and could fit several babies comfortably, or uncomfortably depending on how exhausted the mother was. Back in the day I know my mom put us in there and tossed in a few toys so she could go off and smoke her cigarettes while frying up a whole chicken (that was when cigarettes and fried chicken were good for you). Ok, there's no way for me to know if that's really what my mom did with her playpen freedom because I was a baby. But, after my experience, I can only hope my mom used that opportunity to have a few belts. Anyway, the point is, I see a real need to bring back those big playpens so I'm planning to start a new line of baby goods called  "Barren Spinster".  I'm sure the things will be flying off the shelf. 

Because we had babies with us, I didn't get to experience too much of Door County. But, we did get out to do a few things. We were on the Bay side which is made up of a bunch of little towns on the water with a large Scandinavian influence. Flags are flying proudly, stores are selling viking hats and people are living in Swedish-style cottages. There's a restaurant called Al Johnson's that sells Swedish pancakes and the wait staff parades around in these traditional Swedish outfits.  I think I was about as Swedish as anybody who worked there.  And here's the thing, I've been to Sweden and I never ran into anyone in a restaurant that spoke with a Wisconsin accent. So, it was difficult for me to get into character and really believe I was in Sweden when our waitress greeted us with "oh yeah, and how are ya today?" Plus, this place had live goats grazing on the grass-covered roof. Traffic slows almost to a stop while people stare and take pictures of these poor goats.  Where is PETA? I mean I personally think wearing a warm furry coat made from dead animals is much less offensive than forcing a goat to live on the roof of a fake Swedish restaurant. And, I couldn't figure out how they get off. If they fell they would be splattered all over the parking lot.  Then there would be a bunch of little kids in plastic viking hats screaming their heads off.  Now that I think about it, I may have to add an animal line of playpens to my Barren Spinster collection so these goats can graze safely. 

Today's EiPod: "Grazin' in the Grass", Boney James

I went to Wrigley Field on Tuesday night but it wasn't to see a baseball game. Not that I wouldn't. I'm a White Sox fan but I've been in the friendly confines lots of times and it's always fun. This was a much bigger event for me. It was Elton John and Billy Joel in their Face to Face concert. Yes, the King and Queen of the Piano performing in the outfield to tens of thousands of fans. My nephew told me he had 2 FREE tickets so I asked him what I should wear. He hesitated but after a few minutes decided I had earned the opportunity to hang out with him. Phew.

The concert was 4 hours of awe-inspiring musicianship. Sure, the two of them are older now but who isn't? There were a couple of jumbotrons on either side of the stage so we had a great view of their chubby fingers tearing up the grand pianos. They played together for a bit, each taking the lead on the other's song, then split and Elton did a one hour solo as did Billy. Elton's set was loaded with the old songs that took me back to grade school where it seemed every week I was at a boy-girl basement party where we played albums and danced until the boys would figure out which slow song to play so they could turn the lights out and get the kissing started. Was "Benny and the Jets" really that romantic or just a long song for us little Catholics kids to be awkwardly linked to each other?I think the latter. Billy's "Only The Good Die Young" didn't come out until I was in high school so thankfully we weren't chanting that tune at our parties with the lights out. Not that we had a clue what the lyrics meant. Although, my father did. And it was not allowed to be played in our house. Fortunately, we had headphones.

Outside the concert was an interesting display of the 1st Amendment. I'm ok with the whole Freedom of Speech bit but I take issue when it's hateful. Across the street from Wrigley stood a group of 4 people that I surmised was a mother and her sister, both 40-ish, a daughter in her early 20s, and a son who looked about 14.  They were holding graphic signs stating who God hates, because I'm sure He told them.  "God hates Obama", "God hates Fags", "God hates Jews". The other sign they held up stated  "Jews took our land". My nephew and I figured out the "fag" and "jew" slangs were directed at the stars of the show. But when he asked me what land they were talking about, for the life of me I couldn't figure out what land the Jews took from those people holding the signs. I mean, I know a lot of Jewish people live in New York and even have places in the Hamptons, including Billy Joel and his ex-wives. But I just never read anywhere that the Hamptons used to be a trailer park before they started building sprawling manses. I'll have to research that one. 

Today's EiPod: "Honky Cat", Elton John

My youngest brother Joe got in to Michigan on Friday morning to finally join his wife, 4 kids and the rest of our family. They're from Alaska so this is always a big treat for us every year. And it's an even bigger treat for them.  Alaska has some beautiful summer weather with really long days but they just don't have the beaches or lake like we have here. So, the first day the kids head down to the lake is like watching 4 slices of Wonderbread walking on the beach. They need to practice safe tanning so layering on #30 at least 4 or 5 times during the day is not a bad thing. I hate to have them look like burnt toast. And I speak from experience.  I have to use lots of sun protection because my parents were negligent when I was a child and I was sunburned several times and am now paying for it as an adult. Ok, I'm just kidding about the negligent part. They didn't make sunscreen when I was a kid. And, I did use baby oil in my pre-teens because I thought I could only burn so much and then I'd tan like my sisters. It didn't work. And it was a stupid idea. And, it hurt. A lot.

In the 8 days our family was together, there was only one injury to report and it truly was an accident. Unfortunately, at the expense of the kids,  we all learned a valuable lesson. When skipping rocks, the target area should always be in the direction of the lake, not your younger cousin's eyeball. It was nothing a trip to the hospital couldn't take care of. Plus, it was a 5 year old boy who got to wear a patch on his eye. I don't know how many people can say they had a pirate protecting their beach for 3 days so I think we were lucky,  especially since the convicts were still on the loose in the area. 

On Saturday my pastor, Fr. Edward, come in from Chicago to say mass for our family at my parent's house.  The kids were very well behaved and I'm sure it had something to do with fewer distractions than in a church and the fact that all the adults were staring at them so they wouldn't get out of line. We had to give the 3 year old a break though. He was really good until we took the mass outside. Instead of following us to the make-shift alter in the backyard, he exited toward St. Hammock. And even that worked out ok.  A lot of churches have a cry room where kids can be themselves and not disturb the congregation. My parent's cry room just happens to be hanging from a tree. 

I came home on Sunday and reserved Monday to decompress. A dear friend had sent me a book in the mail called "The Shack" and it was my goal to finish it.  It's a spiritual journey with lots of messages about forgiveness, letting go of resentments and not judging others. It's something each of my family members have done to each other at one time or another but it seems like we keep moving forward and not letting the past cripple us. If you haven't read the book, I would recommend it. I know I'll read it again. 

I'm sure it sounds like we're not a typical dysfunctional family. But, we are.  I think we just put it on hold this year. 

Today's EiPod: "Better Days",  The Goo Goo Dolls

(these lyrics are brilliant)

4 days later and the convicts are still on the loose. "Pistol Packin' Patty", the deputy and arresting officer for the first offender in Grand Beach, told us they only have one of the perps on their radar and he left our village and headed south. Seems like the 3rd escapee was smart enough to have a plan and probably won't be seen again until John Walsh picks up the story on "America's Most Wanted".  I do feel bad for the guy that was caught. He's probably been tortured several times by a cigarette smoking detective in a bad suit trying to get information about his former inmates. I feel even worse for the one that's still in the area. He's been spotted near a mexican restaurant and a grocery store. I'm not a detective but these clues tell me he's not only hungry but is probably in desperate need of some bug spray.  It's very woodsy around here and with the record rainfall we've had  this summer I'm certain he's contracted lyme disease by now.  And if that wasn't enough, my mom's bridge game was cancelled on Monday night because of the fear in the village.  So once he is apprehended, I'm confident the Grand Beach Ladies Bridge Club will have a few choice words for him. I don't care how dangerous you think you are, you should NEVER mess with a ladies bridge club.

Our family has managed to soldier through the days without letting the felons disturb our routine. It's been lots of beach time sprinkled with trips to the outlet mall. I like to try to get a little time with each of the kids to create a special bond so at least one of them will take care of me when I'm old and drooling. I've got 14 of them and I've changed all of their diapers so I'm hoping they'll do the same for me if I need it.  

The shopping experience is different depending on the age group. I took 4 girls ranging from 10-13 and they couldn't wait to get to Bath and Body Works. I watched as they sprayed and rubbed and sniffed everything in the store.  I let them each pick out their own 5 for $5 lotions and sprays which made them shake with excitement. I too, was shaking when I started to get a whiff of the purchases. I imagined once we got home how the musty, summer lakefront smell of their rental cottage would soon be replaced by the fresh scent of a brothel.  

Another trip to the mall was with a 20 year old niece where we made a quick stop at Claire's Boutique. She was looking for earrings and when I asked if it was to replace the stud on ther newly pierced nostril, she said it was not. She informed her older, square aunt that she needed to replace her belly button ring. For cry eye, how many holes can a body take before it springs a leak? And, just an hour before our outing, we were at the beach where she revealed a 1 week old tattoo that says "Amore". She's 1/2 Italian so I should be happy she chose the translation of  the word love to scar her body. Besides,  had she gone with her Irish heritage, I think the Gaelic word for love is "Guinness" and that's just not something I want to see permanently inked on one of my family members. 

The evenings have been chock full of bbqs, kids going nuts and lots of boom boom music. I do not understand ONE word of the music these kids are playing these days which I know makes me sound old.  Listening to a 10 or 11 year old sing about "losing your panties" and "making you feel good all night" kind of makes me uncomfortable. But they don't really understand what they're singing so I don't want to draw attention to it. I threw my iPod in at one point to show them that we adults could be hip, too.  I quickly realized that children never like to see their parents as human beings so once we got up to dance and sing to our music, the kids left the room completely embarrassed. It wasn't exactly like torturing an escaped convict but by the looks on their faces, it was pretty close. And now I know exactly what to do when I need some alone time with my siblings. 

Today's EiPod: "Rapper's Delight", Sugar Hill Gang

Catholics vs. Convicts-Take 2. 

I borrowed that term from a 1988 football game between the University of Notre Dame and the University of Miami. Seems the Miami football team was plagued with "bad-boy" scandals and the Fighting Irish thought it would be cute to make up t-shirts that said "Catholics vs. Convicts". Today in Grand Beach, Michigan we had a re-match. Although this time, the "convict" part wasn't a joke.

My parents have a home in the sleepy little town of Grand Beach, Michigan,  just over the Indiana border. They are on the 3rd fairway of small, municipal 9-hole golf course (which we refer to as Grand Beach National) and a few minutes to a beautiful Lake Michigan beach. Everyone owns at least one golf cart and that is the preferred method of transportation in town. There is a clubhouse for golfers and for neighborhood kids to buy ice cream.  It's not unusual to see multitudes of children walking the streets unsupervised because everybody knows each other and frankly, it's safe. The population of the town consists of mainly West Side Irish and South Side Irish. Almost everyone is Catholic and ALL are Notre Dame fans. And if you're not, you just don't talk about it. Most of the families are related to each other and have been there for generations so you have to be careful about gossiping because you never know how many branches are in a family tree. My family however,  is new in town. We set up camp 20 years ago and have no relatives in town except the 28 of my immediate family members who descend upon the place every year for a week in July. And this is our week.

I awoke at my folks home to the sound of helicopters. I had a voicemail from a friend last night telling me of an escape at the Michigan City Prison but I didn't think much of it. And besides, being in such a small beach community, not only does our cell service stink but I didn't even know there was a prison nearby so thought I may have misunderstood the message. I found out this morning that not only is there a prison but apparently at roll call there were 3 people missing and they found their way to Grand Beach. 

At 8 am when I surfaced from my room ready to pick up my sister-in law Carol for our 5 mile walk, the news was released that one of the convicts had been captured in our town.  He made his way up near the summer home of Da Mayor of Chicago, Richard Daley. Fortunately, my tax dollars are paying for Da Mayor's security guard and one guy was held at gunpoint until our local Police Chief, Dan Schroeder, could get his team on the scene to make the arrest. I have to tell you right now that this was a BIG day for the Grand Beach Police Department which I believe has a staff of 3. The biggest crimes that go on in town are violations for too many people riding on a golf cart and having a bonfire on the beach without a permit. Arresting a felon is surely to earn Officer Dan and his team a hero's parade. On golf carts of course. 

As the morning progressed, more and more state troopers arrived in town. The FBI and S.W.A.T. teams set up camp near my parent's home and the helicopters kept swarming the area. Since Grand Beach is such a casual beach town, it would be very easy to get into someone's home and do a complete makeover on yourself without anyone noticing.  As Carol and I started on our walk,  a woman in her housecoat peaked her head out of her cottage to warn us that the convicts might be looking for hostages. I'm not sure if we'd be worth more together or separately but since Carol left her kids sleeping at their rental cottage with the door unlocked, we thought our exercise routine should be postponed for now. 

It looked like this was going to go on all day and as most people were on lock-down, we had 11 kids who had a lot of energy they needed to release. So, instead of torturing them with an all-day Bago tournament, we took them to the beach. It may have been risky but I think we all felt safe once we made it to the water because the coast guard was circling the area. And, even better, the Chicago news media was everywhere. Some of the stations came down to the beach and filmed our little kids and interviewed some of my family.  I'm hoping the camera man missed me on his take. Not because I was in my bathing suit but because I was sitting UNDER an umbrella WITH a hat on. Talk about belt and suspenders. I can't take the sun but please, do I need to have all that protection? Yes, I can be a dork at times.

I left my beach post about 3:00 this afternoon because I had to get back to Chicago. At that hour, there was still plenty of action going on in town.  I have to admit I felt bad leaving my mom and dad alone in the house with a rapist and murderer still on the loose. My mom didn't seem too worried. Tonight she has bridge at the clubhouse with all the Grand Beach ladies. She's a wicked bridge player and few things, including an escaped convict, will keep her from a card game. I wished her luck and told her to make sure to check everyone out carefully tonight. It's not unusual for woman to have some stray facial hair but if she spots anyone playing bridge with a full beard wearing a skirt, I recommended she fold and go home quickly. 

Today's EiPod: "Jailbreak", Thin Lizzy

I thought I was going to let Michael rest in peace but I have found myself with another connection to him. And, this one is powerful. So much so, that I think I understand how he found himself in the predicament of a $40,000/month prescription pill habit. 

I have been suffering with back pain for a couple years and have ignored medical treatment. It's not because I'm heroic, it's because I have an HMO with a $25 co-pay and I don't like to part with money that easily. I like my doctor but I have the internet and for $24.99 I have unlimited access to all kinds of medical help. WebMD is one of my favorites. I can self-diagnose any illness and follow the regime it dictates for the cure.  Of course, I cannot prescribe myself medications but I can follow exercises and diet changes to get me on the mend. After the pain escalated this Spring, I had to break down and pry open my wallet to go see the doctor. 

In the past 6 weeks I have seen my internist ($25), had an MRI ($25), gone to 4 weeks of physical therapy ($25/visit x 9 visits=$225) and had an appointment with an orthopedic physician ($25). When the orthopedic doctor asked how I wanted to be treated, I said "aggressively" as I've been fooling around with this for too long. I left with a referral for a pain specialist to administer an epidural steriod injection and 3 prescriptions to fill: Tizanidine, Tramadol and Meloxicam. I met this man for 8 minutes and he prescribed me 3 drugs I can't even pronounce.  Two pills will make me feel better and one will help me sleep. This can get very confusing so I will make sure to read the labels carefully. But that is only 3 pills and it cost me $30. I can only imagine how confusing it was for Michael Jackson to try to keep $40,000 worth of pills straight. No wonder he was laid out in a gold coffin the other day. 

So, there are few lessons to learn here. First, listen to your body and if you don't see results from the WebMD methodology within a month, suck it up and go see a real doctor.  Second, never get yourself into a situation where you have too many pills to keep track of. It's dangerous and could lead to death. Finally, if it does lead to death, make sure your family does not lay you to rest at the Burr Oak Cemetery. From what I've read, that would not be your FINAL resting place. 

Today's EiPod: "The Candyman",  Sammy Davis, Jr.

Well, I was completely sated. Michael's funeral was a tribute, a memorial and a bit of a circus all in one. Not working, I was able to plant myself in front of the TV and watch the 2 hour presentation of "Michael Jackson, This is Your Life". Well, the good part of  his life anyway. The gold casket, the pallbearer brothers, somber family and 17,000 complete strangers who won a lottery ticket to get in to see the show. It was brilliant marketing and I'm quite sure the family will be able to pay down his debts now that he's gone. 

The pictures at the service depicted just how famous,  talented and darling he really was.  That is, until his father told him his nose was too big. Then the plastic surgeons got a hold of him and what started out as a cute, poor black child from Gary, Indiana ended up a looking like a pretty, poor white woman from Los Angeles. And his family continues to proclaim ignorance of any drug problem? I'm just saying if I came home one day with so much as a tan (which is a dream of any pasty Irish gal), my 6 siblings would be conducting an intervention. 

The service had some touching moments. Brooke Shields did a nice tribute and seemed to be a real friend to Michael at one time in his life. I thought the musical numbers were all done in good taste and a sign of his great talent. I was a bit unclear why Magic Johnson played a part in the service. The fact that he still goes by the name of Magic and is married to a woman named Cookie is another blog entirely but, I just didn't understand his role. And he made what I thought was a racist joke about he and Michael eating fried chicken. Although, maybe if you are the race making the joke against your own race, it's not really considered racist. I'll have to research that. But,  just imagine the sounds in the Staples Center if Brooke told a similar story about the time she and Michael ate watermelon together. 

And, it wouldn't be an event without the Reverend Al Sharpton. He took the podium and preached about Michael's goodness and wonderful parenting. He raved about his generosity and kindness.  And he went on to talk about how he broke down the color barriers in pop music. I'm not sure I would have gone that far. It was the late '70s before Michael made his big splash and we had already seen many, many talented black musicians by then. Smokey Robinson, James Brown and Jackie Wilson to name a few. No, we hadn't quite seen anything like him before but I'm not sure that had anything to do with the color of his skin. Maybe Al was confused. Michael did the moon walk.  He didn't walk on the moon. There is a difference.

On my way home to watch the service, I walked passed the Ebony-Jet building on South Michigan Avenue.  The front window has a blown-up version of the Ebony Magazine where Michael did his last interview a few years ago. There was a make-shift memorial in front and watched a crying woman drop off a bunch of flowers.  It was touching I have to admit. But, now it's over and I need a new muse. I hope Diana Ross re-surfaces soon. 

Today's EiPod: "Ease on Down the Road",  Michael Jackson and Diana Ross

Today is my sister Anne's birthday. She's the first person I called when I heard the news about Michael Jackson's passing.  She and I are 13 months apart and between the typical sisterly bickering, we were close growing up. We spent a lot of time singing and dancing around the house when we were younger. Anne was gifted with a strong singing voice and typically did the harmonizing to cover my mediocre vocals. She was also the consummate cheerleader and when we danced, it wouldn't be unusual for her to turn one of her moves into some rah rah, stiff-armed jump with a really loud landing that would shake the light fixtures.  I focused more on the MJ spins (which I never quite got) because you see, I never made the cheerleading squad. I tried out in 6th, 7th and 8th grades and never got the nod from the judges that I was good enough to support the St. Joe's Knights from the gym floor. I don't think they really understood me. I'm a bit shy and prefer to keep my enthusiasm inside. Looking back, I suppose the judges made the right decision. Introverts make lousy cheerleaders. My sister, on the other hand, wears her emotions on her sleeve so she always made the squad.  Consequently, I supported her on her efforts to be the best cheerleader ever and she supported and laughed at me while I tried to master MJ's 360 degree spin. 

I only found out recently that my whole childhood obsession with Michael and his brothers disturbed my sister. She phoned my parents after we talked about his death and told them she could never understand why all the other girls had a crush on Donny Osmond and I was fixated on a negro (I had to clean that word up from the one she chose). This better explains my Christmas present from her in 1974. 

Since we're from a big family, we picked names for gifts and put a $10 limit on them. It was a Secret Santa deal so in order to get your message out, you had to tell everyone, including our parents, what you wanted for Christmas.  I made it perfectly clear to every family member I wanted a Jackson 5 album. I was young so there wasn't shame in my choice but pure enthusiasm at the thought of throwing their music on the turntable Christmas day. 

To make it easier on our parents, we picked one Saturday to do our shopping.  They dropped all of us kids off at the mall and we picked partners to shop with.  Anne paired up with our oldest brother Frank. Off they went to the record store in search of my present. On Christmas morning when I saw the present from my Secret Santa under the tree, I could tell by the wrapping I was getting an album. I couldn't wait to open it! I just knew I'd have the headphones on within hours singing and dancing to the Jackson 5. As I tore open the wrapping paper, I realized something had gone terribly wrong. Instead of staring at those 5 afros, I found myself looking at some long-hairs on this crazy, blurry album cover.  It was a record from a band called "Deep Purple".  If I was allowed to swear, I would've asked "what the hell is this"? But, I just sat there with my mouth open while my sister explained that Frank told her I didn't really WANT the Jackson 5 album but what I REALLY wanted was the "Deep Purple Machine Head" album that included the song "Smoke on the Water".  So, instead of me dancing and singing around the house to my African American friends, I had to watch my brother Frank pull out his electric guitar and play along to the Deep Purple songs I had never heard of nor really liked. And it wasn't like I could dance along because none of those songs even had a beat. 

So, since I didn't fly to LA for the memorial service, I'm going to use some of my unemployment check to buy 2 copies of the "Michael Jackson Memorial Tribute CD and DVD set".  I can't wait to see Anne and Frank's faces when they open up their Christmas presents this year. 

Today's EiPod: "Smoke on the Water", Deep Purple

I didn't get a ticket to Staples Center. I also didn't apply for one.  Not that I wasn't a fan of Michael Jackson because I was. I even got to see The Jacksons perform in Chicago in 1974. But, I just didn't think spending my entire unemployment check on a flight to L.A. would be a wise move. Plus, the traffic in California gets on my very last nerve. So, I decided to celebrate his life in the comfort of my own home. From my living room I can watch L.A. go deeper in debt to memorialize the uber talented,  slightly perverted King of Pill Popping who made noises that could only come out of a grown man if his family jewels were being squeezed by a vice grip. And, I'll get a better view of stars like Emmanuel Lewis and Macaulay Culkin who should be seated somewhere in the first 30 rows. 

There's been a lot of time and energy speculating what will happen to the estate, Neverland and custody of the kids. Larry King has spent days on end trying to suck every ounce of information from brother Jermaine. Liz Taylor is not only grief stricken but likely scrambling for a new drug dealer. These news stories will go on for years to ensure we won't be allowed to forget MJ. However, in a few days, life will go on and we'll get back to seeing Barack Obama's wide smile and the news will go back to reporting on the sad state of the economy and the War in Iraq. Well, that is until Bubbles dies. 

Today's EiPod: "Enjoy Yourself", The Jacksons