Louisiana in the 70s - The Mixed Bag.

At night, just after the sun sets, the noise of jiggers and frogs fill the air.  It's actually quite a racket if you've never heard it before.   Strangely, in the morning all is quiet- as if even the bugs and frogs are sleeping. 

Louisiana sits squarely in the sub-tropics, and is filled with life, most of it slimy.  It is very forested, and the insects will eat you alive if you don't have a can of Deep Woods Off handy.

Not that we noticed the bugs much as kids- often it was a full time job just keeping out of trouble.

In 1971, JT was the meanest grade school bus driver in Louisiana.  He was a 6 ft. 2 in. tall black man-  quite fit and had arms the size of tree trunks.  He carried an old broken fan belt he would use on the black kids when they were bad.  He didn't put up with any "misbehaving'".   Other then that, the man didn't volunteer much in the way of speech.  With his strong arms and simple clothes, I imagined that his life must be hard, and that he spent most of his day working outdoors.  My friends and I grew to have a quiet respect him.

We had a Principle Pulig, for Bellaire Elementary, grades 1-4.  He was an incredibly tall man, and a little crooked looking when standing up.  The amazing thing about the man was his simplicity in dealing with all situations.  No matter what you came in his office for, you left with a spanking.  Even if you were the kid who got picked on.  If two kids come in, all he knows is two kids are getting spankings.

In the 4th grade we had a very determined English teacher, Mrs. Scott.  She was about 50 or so, and a quite plump.   But you got a spanking every Friday if you didn't have your list of the week memorized.  That's why today I still know my linking verbs off the top of my head.   She would also slap your hand with a ruler if you were caught talking in class (and she happened to feel like getting up).  My friend John Bannano, folded up several sheets of blank paper to put in his pockets for his spanking.  She was on to him and made him take it out for his licks.  I didn't care one way or the other for the spankings, which did smart for a few min, but what I didn't like is the embarrassment of having to bend over in front of the whole class.

My freshman year of high school was filled with bike riding.  My close friends Alan Collison and Frank Mastrilli rode everywhere together.  Being dependents, we all had military IDs and would bike around the base a lot, going to the BX, the Ice Cream Parlor, the library, church, even Sunday school.  When the BX sponsored an event that give away a free bicycle, we were there.   All one had to to was to correctly determine the number of marbles in a large jar.   There was no limit as to the number of times one could enter, so I got the big idea of filling out all numbers from 1000-10000, which I felt sure would cover all my bases.  My friend Frank did the same thing, and my friend Alan did all the even numbers.  In the end, they claimed they had 6 winners and randomly choose one.  No bike for me or my friends that Summer.  I was quite upset because I felt they had violated the terms of the contest.

Years later, as a freshman in high school, I would meet another colorful character, a black coach we new only as "Rushing", which was his last name.  On our first day we dressed out for gym, he lined us up along the line on the basketball court.  Then he paced back and forth, looking as mean and tough as he could muster.  He would slam the basketball down and yell, "I was back in Nam!".  A little more pacing, and ball slamming, and then, "In Nam, there was a lot of noise!"   Bam!  He would slam the basketball again and catch it.  "I don't like a lot of noise!"  Bam!  Well, it was a hell of a show he gave, that first day.  We were all terrified.  I came to realize by the end of the year that the man was nearly all bark, and no bite.

Although many of the teachers in the Louisiana Public Education System left much to be desired, I had nothing but positive experiences with all my music teachers.  The were impressive people, with an incredible work ethic.  In the 5th grade, Mr. Green would put on fantastic shows of what can only be described as "enragement" where his face would get red, he would get flustered, and starting yelling.  He would throw erasers.  He would shout from memory all the notes in front of you on your music stand.  He was impressive- and we all feared him.  By the end of the 8th grade, I came to realize that he was actually a easy going fellow and that a lot of the theatrics were for show.  I believe that he learned long ago that playing a hot-tempered "meanie" made it easier to control 100 rowdy kids with music instruments.   

Of course looking back, my high junior year of high school was nothing at all like my high school days, which in turn were nothing like college.  And my college days are nothing like my working days, which is where I am now.  Working for a living writing programs in downtown Chicago.  I've been blessed with a good life so far and I hope it stays that way.   

June 26, 2002

I thought that I should try to jot down a few thoughts now that it looks like I'm on my 3rd to last day of taking the train downtown.  For six years, I've been taking the Union Pacific West Line in and out of Chicago.  The trip is 2.5 hours roundtrip, and that does not account for the extra time I'm usually sitting in it waiting for it to leave.  A strange run of luck that I should find all my assignments downtown, interrupted, as I now have monthly tickets dating from Jul of 1996.  I would like to see them put into a nice picture frame, and will look into the cost of having this done vs. making my own.

I've worked at Trans Union, CNA Insurance, American Medical Association, and First Union Securities.  These were very demanding multi-year assignments.  

I'm not going to miss riding on the train.  It has a few advantages of course, but it's going to be nice to not be tied to a train schedule every morning and every evening.  I've spent a lot of time there- figure 2.5 hours a day times 5 days a week is 12.5 hours a week.  That is 50 hours a month- well more than an entire week's worth of work time.  Over a year, I've spent more than 600 hours sitting on the train (25 days worth).   Now figure that I've been doing this for 6 years, and you get 3600 hours on the train, or 150 days (or 5 months...day and night).  Now that I think about it, you have to be pretty dammed determined to make this kind of a commute, especially when you add in the time, expense, and hassle of driving to the train station, walking to the train, taking the train, then having to switch to a water taxi, street taxis, or bus, and then walking the final stretch to work.  Six years of spending 2 hours getting to work every day and two hours getting home.   

At least G&R lets us expense the train tickets.  At $125.55 a month, I've purchased more than $9039.60 worth of train tickets.  I could have bought a cheap car and driven it downtown every year for that kind of money. 

The past few weeks have not been productive on the train.  Normally I would try to work on my websites or write, but for the past 4 weeks I've either watched DVDs (Harry Potter, Planet of The Apes, AI) or played games (Army Men RTS, Jedi Knight II).  In the past I've watched the scenery roll by (it never gets boring to me), read books, magazines, played computer games, worked on email, work, programming, web sites, my MIDI work, played DVDs, CDs, taken digital camera pictures and movies, drank beer, booze, slept, talked, eaten.  I've seen people cry, fight, and snore on the train.  I've been on plenty of trains that have broken down on the way in or out of the city.  I could write a book about train experiences but the truth is I'll be glad to forget most of them.  

It finally got hot- I would say this is our first really "hot week".  It's been little more than warm this summer- and I'm already worried that the days are going to start getting shorter and things will be back to cold and dark before I've even had a chance to go outside and ride my bike.  Seems like when you work for a living, you never have time to do anything but work, clean, pay bills, run errands, etc.  Those 5 months have been a prison sentence of confinement to a metal train car that is hot in the summer and cold in the winter.  And they usually stink. 

Chris and Karen are in Hawaii but will be returning tomorrow.  Susan says Chris is stressed out because he lost my digital camera.  But I told him the night before he left not to worry about it if that happened, because I knew it was a strong possibility.  I lost my previous camera (same model) about 2 months before so I really can't complain.

Michael and I try to play one hour of Army Men on the computer each night, we play multiplayer co-op against the computer.

Loren Mehl came up this weekend and we went out Sunday (I stayed downtown), Monday, and Tuesday night.  Sunday we started at the Palmer House Hilton Bar (we were going to meet at Trader Vics, but when I got there the sign indicated that they were closed on Sundays).  We then went to First Union (only 3 blocks away) where I showed him where I worked.  Then we walked across the river to the AMA.  We stopped on the bridge and watched the boats and people go by.  We went up to the Lounge on the 96th floor of the John Hancock and watched the sun go down, even though it was a pretty smoggy day.  The worst I've ever seen- but it did get hot this weekend.  We ate at Ruths Chris Steakhouse, where I had the Filet Mignon and Loren had the Salmon due to avoiding meat out of respect for his deceased dog, who loved meat.

We got hit up by a comedian/friend beggar leaving the place.  The scammers surround Ruth Chris like a circle of flies- I always get a pitch for something leaving that place.  A few years ago it was the homeless, then came the pushy shoe shiners, then comedians, and now we've got people who think they deserve some sort of a handout just because they butt-in with some dumb-ass advice on where to go and not to go for Jazz music.  "Don't pinch a brother" he said to Loren when he cracked open his wallet and start thumbing past the 20s.  It's hard to believe but it's happened to me as well- beggars who immediately complain about the size of their handout.  In this case he was complaining before even knowing what he was going to get!  It's the way these days, they will always ask for more, no matter what you give them.  I may sound pretty harsh, but it is simply because I am sick of "walking the gauntlet" of lazy people on the way to and from the train station every day.  They all have their own little scam and associated story.  I can think of so many incidents even now I think I should write them all down.  The same people day in and day out, with their hand stuck out yelling for money.  

Back to my night out with Loren.  We walked back toward the Palmer House and went into one of the hotel bar/grill restaurants.  We had a few more drinks and then got a set of drinks to take back to our room.  We went up and looked at his baby pictures. 

The next day, Monday, after work we took Metra out to Geneva and he got to meet Michael and Maggie.  Loren got to ride the train, see Geneva, the house, meet Susan again, and hang out.  I played the keyboard for him and sung a few songs from Pink Floyd, and Amazing Grace.  Susan made dinner (a salad!  come on!) and I took him back to catch the last train back into the city at 10:05.  We had one last drink at the bar at the train station in Geneva before the train left.  Right after the doors closed and the train started leaving, a 20ish fellow walked up.  He just missed the train and that was the last one for the night.  I asked him if he lived in the city, and he said he did.  I had seen him a few min earlier necking with his girl in a car.  I said I thought the train left a minute or two early, and it had.  He went back to his girl's car and I went home.  Loren wound up leaving the gifts (for his baby girl, Grace Elizabeth Mehl who is only 5 months old) he had purchased earlier downtown in my car.  I returned them to him the next day when I caught up with him.

Tuesday we were going to go to the Chicago Cubs game at Wrigley Field but we thought the game was going to start at 7:05 P.M. but on this day they changed it to 1:00 so we missed it entirely.  Loren was bummed.  So we went to Bukara's Bar, the Global Bar and Grill, where Phil remembered me and bought us a drink.  We were there racking our brains, trying to think of a place to go for dinner.  It came to me all at once when I returned from the restroom and heard Loren describing yesterday's impressions of the Lounge on the 96th floor of the Hancock Center.  I knew then where we had to go- the Signature Room on the 95th.

When Phil the bartender found out we were going up to the Signature Room he gave us the name of a waitress to ask for.  So we left and went to the Cheesecake Factory Bar at the bottom of the John Hancock and then up to the 95th floor  (Signature Room) but the waitress Phil suggested was not working that night.  We had dinner up there, which was very tasty and we had a table next to the window facing Lake Michigan.  First class baby!

We walked down Michigan Avenue a little ways and popped into WaterTower Place.  We had a seat on a bench and took stock, reflected on our lot in life, said good-bye, and split up- he walked back toward his hotel and I hopped a taxi to Olgivie Transportation Center (Chicago Northwestern Train Station) to make the 8:40 P.M. train.  I got home about 10:10, watched TV for a few minutes and turned in for the night.

I'm bummed I didn't get any pictures while Loren was here- I normally take a lot of pictures but Chris took my Digital Camera to Hawaii, where he lost it so I'm actually digital camera-less as I write this.  I'll have to get another one soon though because in 10 days (over the 4th of July) I'll be in Louisiana attending my 20 year high school reunion.

June 28, 2002

Went to the Taste of Chicago for lunch with DJ, Shriram, and Jeff.  Once there, DJ and I were on ABC channel 11 behind a TV reporter doing a live bit.  DJ was on his phone talking to his wife and kids (who were watching him on TV behind the reporter) when I got tired of waiting for him I went up and acted like I gave him a kiss.   His wife said on the phone, "That must be Mark Trainer!".  We tried several different booths at the taste.  I tried a BBQ sandwich sampler, a catfish sampler, a pecan/caramel chocolate candy. I was sunny and hot and I realized later I got a bit of sun on my face (red forehead)- amazing considering I was in the sun less than one hour total.  After last day at work at First Union Securities, Ken Huske, Ravi Laad, Shriram Venkatraman, and Rick went to La Margarita in the Presidential Towers.  We drank Quervo Gold Margaritas on the rocks, and talked about the upside-down situation at work.  We also had two rounds of appetizers.  At about 7:30, Keric Trac, Paul Yoshimara, and Janet Kramer joined us- they ordered a couple of pitchers of Frozen Strawberry Margaritas,   I left in time to catch the 9:40 P.M. to Geneva.

I called home earlier and Michael answered the phone, the first time I've ever known him to answer the phone.  He picked up and said, "Who is it!"  

That killed me.  I said, "Hi It's daddy, pumkin'.  What are you doing?"  

He was playing multiplayer Army Men with Chris on the computers which are networked in the basement.  "Aww you guys are playing without me?  OK Michael but when you answer the phone, it's 'Hello?' and not 'Who is it?'"  OK let me talk to mom.  Goodbye!"  

I suppose it's only fitting that on my very last work-related train ride out, that the train would set a record for lateness.  It's 11:00 and were stopped due to "signal problems" (so sayeth the automated message, even though earlier they said it was due to track construction).  We've been stopped about 30 minutes so far with no announcement about how much long it's going to take.  What a hassle.  I'll be glad to be done with this....the conductors never share anything....they run back and forth but won't admit that there is something wrong with the train.  Oh, now the power went out.  It just keeps getting worse.  Ok, it's back on.  Yeah, like this has to do with signal problems or track problems.  These people are stupid, and worse- inconsiderate for not sharing what is really keeping us stuck here.  But through the years, service has not been dependable or pleasant.  Riding the train everyday is a sort of living hell, that takes place in 50 year old cars that haven't been repainted in 20 years, or cleaned in 10.  I've been on the train more than 2 hours, and I'm still not home....just broken down in the middle of nowhere.

Friday, July 5, 2002

Wow Amtrak was supposed to be in Marshall Texas at 9:45 A.M. and instead it pulled into the station at 3:35 P.M. almost 6 hours behind schedule.  Michael and I spent 24 hours and 30 minutes on that train because we got on the day before at Union Station in Chicago at 3:00.  Everyone else was aboard and the train left at exactly 3:30.  But by the next morning we were already 4 hours late and things kept getting worse.   We we stopped about 1/4 of the entire trip, and when we were moving we seemed to spend as much time below 30 MPH as we did above it.  It's a shame a country as big and as powerful as the United States can't run a simple long-distance rail network that provides fast and on-time travel.  By the time the Texas Eagle gets to Los Angles, it will probably be over 24 hours late.  What a mess!  But par for course- this is my 3rd Amtrak trip and they've never been less than 4 hours late.  And the 1-800-US-RAIL number kept giving my parents inaccurate arrival times.  The told my parents the train would be in Marshall Texas at 12:45 P.M.  (3 hours late) when we were still sitting in Arkadelphia, Arkansas- a place that according to Amtrak's best schedule, is 5 hours away from Marshall.

Thursday, September 23, 2003.

Although I though my train riding days were over, they were not.  In fact I only got a two month reprieve from the commute, since I got a job offer from Wachovia (formerly First Union Securities) and was soon riding the train downtown again.

In fact, I've been working at Wachovia Securities for one year almost to the day.   It's been a tough year with lots of challenges at work, and the never ending nature of the work is starting to wear thin on me.   As an employee, the work load is much more support intensive.  I'm wearing a pager and on a rotating staff of support personnel.

Took the family to Cedar Point and South Bass Island again last month, and next month we're going back to Disney World.   I'm trying to plan another trip to Las Vegas with Harvey in early February 2004.