Notes from the Post-it Wall | Week of June 30, 2019
Sesame Street needs a Hasidic Jew character. Could be a Muppet, could be a human. Yes, there’s Oscar the Grouch and Julia the Autistic, but to truly represent an individual who complains and struggles with a break from routine, a Hasidic Jew is the best you’ll get.
My Old Man and the Sea, and Me
A blackened city looms ahead
With foreboding consequences obvious in the darkness.
Behind us, a bright sky and calm waters and the time I feel we used wisely.
“We would have been home if you hadn’t been so anal,” my old man says.
“It’s better to fix and fully prep your vessel in port,” I reply. “Helps us avoid trouble at sea.”
The wind arrives in furious fashion.
The knots speed up — they tighten and strengthen.
We’re under motor but that don’t matter none.
The tiny and mighty storm has found our little vessel.
We might as well throw the wheel overboard
For all the good it’s doing.
Long Train Running: A Chicago Marathon Story | Chapter 4 — Why We Run
Jim Von Handorf ran marathons for the same reasons he climbed mountains: to escape and to conquer.
A career fireman in Nashua, New Hampshire, Jim was an outdoorsman to the fullest. He climbed mountains, bouldered, swam, bicycled and ran. His daughter, Amy explains that her dad could never really sit still. That he had a constant need to just go, go, go. He grew up in a small, Boston apartment with a lot of people. The bustling tightness of the city drove him to get out. It was always in his nature to escape. He was into Thoreau and Kerouac. He needed space. So he headed into the wild. His mountaineering expeditions he made with his buddies took him to peaks all over the country where he would test his mettle against the elements and his own limits.
He even showed esophageal cancer that he was not one to go down easy.
Notes from the Post-it Wall | Week of June 23, 2019
Phrases like “not to mention” and “ who needs no introduction” written or said leading into an introduction are completely false statements and make no sense in any context they’re used. They should be removed from our language patterns completely. It goes without saying that these phrases and others should not be used ever again.
The Sinking of Uncle Joe
And, Hey! Uncle Joe worked with Barack Obama!
He’s got black friends. He’s not a racist. Just ask him.
And he’s not a close-talker or a personal space-invader.
Just ask him.
He’ll put his hands on your shoulders and whisper:
“Hey, now… I’m your Uncle Joe. Remember Obama?”
Then, sadly, and unexpectedly, before you can answer or squirm away
He’ll say mostly to himself with disappointment, “Yeah… me, too.”
What We Learned from the First Democratic Presidential Debate
Initial media reports are naming Sen. Elizabeth Warren (Mass.) as the debate’s winner. More and more, Warren gains favorable ground in my eyes. I like her thoughtful, thorough plans. Yeah, they’re boring and require us to follow the bouncing ball as she walks us through them, but they’re tangible plans, even if she doesn’t repeat them in Spanish.
The biggest difference on the stage last night was not between any of the candidates but the color between Castro’s top and bottom teeth.
Long Train Running: A Chicago Marathon Story | Chapter 3 — Weather or Not
The changes in weather and running routes made for a cornucopia of uncertain and enjoyable scenery. Each run was an adventure and it challenged me to stay loose and attentive and fleet on my feet and to mind my body so as not to overheat or underhydrate or freeze off my skinny fingers.
Notes from the Post-it Wall | Week of June 16, 2019
I would take the innocence and ignorance of youth over the guilt and wisdom of old age.
Long Train Running: A Chicago Marathon Story | Chapter 2 — The Cost of This
Bomb shelters, makeshift bunkers mean certain death. To survive, we must keep moving. Word of clean air has spread like gossip. It’s always just over that ridge or two clicks beyond that hill. And so we run. Speed, strength, and endurance are our only hope for survival. This is our marathon.
Notes from the Post-it Wall | Week of June 9, 2019
If someone asks you to not yell at them and you respond by yelling, “I’M NOT YELLING AT YOU!” you’ve revealed your true intentions.
My Grandmother’s Death Presents a Journalistic Regret and a Literary Goldmine
When my grandmother, Joyce Himmel, died on May 11, it marked the end of a very long era. She was just two-and-a-half weeks shy of turning ninety-five. She wasn’t sick, really. A near perfect picture of health and resilience for the better part of a century, in the final minutes of the fourth quarter, her heart just wore out. It was quick and peaceful. Hard to complain about. She had a long and happy and thrilling life.
I could say more, so much more, but this isn’t about Nonny as much as its about her book club.
Long Train Running: A Chicago Marathon Story | Chapter 1 — Ready, Set, Ouch
What was I thinking?
I’m running the Bank of America Chicago Marathon. Why? Because I’m forty. Because I haven’t run a marathon before. Because I need an excuse to get off my writer’s ass and move so I can live long enough to not die. Because I believe in the mission of Gilda’s Club Chicago and fundraising by running seems to be a pretty great way to get money out of your friends and family. So I am running as a member of Team Gilda.
But my god, I’m behind the ball on this.
Notes from the Post-it Wall | Week of June 2, 2019
Does Elmo go to school? Because I wouldn’t mind seeing that little red monster take a bullet in a school shooting.
The Family that Mood Swings Together Stays Together
At the time of this writing, my wife, Katie, is experiencing her period. My puppy, Molly, is also experiencing her period. They’ve both been pretty pissy. This morning, Harry, my one-year-old son collapsed to the floor and pounded his head on the hardwood in unbridled misery because I wouldn’t let him put the television remote control into the kitchen trashcan. All of my Apple devices are slowing down and I can’t wrap my head around navigating the storage on my hard drives and my cloud servers. It makes me want to pull my hair out and gag myself to death on it.
We’re not a happy home. We’re not an unhappy home either. We’re a moody home.
Notes from the Post-it Wall | Week of May 26, 2019 — Birthday Edition
The best part about having a birthday as a married man is that for twenty-four hours, you’re 100 percent guaranteed that your wife won’t look at you like you’re a stupid idiot. It’s the best gift any happily married man can receive.
Notes from the Post-it Wall | Week of May 19, 2019
Clocking in at 3 a.m. when the bit of work is the last thing on your day’s to-do list couples a sense of mania with the feeling of awesome productivity.
Then again, how effectively productive were you if you’re going to be wrapping your day up at 5 a.m.? Putz.
An Exercise in Exorcising
I don’t have time to be writing for free right now. That’s correct, Dear Reader (which sounds like how a Japanese person would say “Dear Leader” if they were kidnapped and brain washed by North Korea and taught only to speak English, and if I was being racist), I don’t get paid writing for Literate Ape. Or editing or publishing or hosting or podcasting or anything else related to The Ape. When it comes to this little project, I pay it in blood and guts and sweat and joy. And the hope or goal is that that soon enough, with enough skin in the game, Literate Ape will pay me. But for now, I have to make money doing work for other people. And I’m on a deadline. Several of them.
Notes from the Post-it Wall | Week of May 12, 2019
It’s not just men who are ruining things for women. It’s also the women who agree with the men and support them. Selfish and mean behavior is as fluid as gender itself.
A Mother’s Day Ode to MILFs
Make no mistake, mothers,
you’re doing great.
You’re better than you think.
So try not to get yourself down
Because what you’re doing isn’t easy
but you’re the best person for the job.
And, um, that ass!
Those boobies!
Notes from the Post-it Wall | Adventures from the Bucktown-Wicker Park Library Edition
The man sitting in front of his computer loudly spoke into his phone. “Define debauchery.” I answered. “Yelling at your phone in a library instead of typing the word into your internet browser.”
You can’t pour from an empty cup, right? Well, you also can’t create, connect, or inspire when you’re running on fumes.