Category Archives: Over the Transom

RIP, Wayne Grothe

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Dark clouds most of the day promising rain, but not delivering, at least not as of about 6 p.m. Cool air did blow through, however, ending a short series of humid days. It felt like the tropics out there for a while.

All too often, I see spontaneous memorials beside the road. Their frequency is sometimes haunting, such as the white crosses every few miles along some highway stretches in the Dakotas. A few days ago, I stopped to take a closer look at a memorial that’s at an intersection I often pass through. In fact, I would have passed through the day of the fatal accident – July 28 – but the road was closed.

Wayne Grothe memorial Aug 2014Next to the road, another sign.

Start Seeing MotorcyclesAll I know about the accident is what I’ve read: “A motorcyclist killed in a crash with another vehicle in Schaumburg Monday afternoon has been identified by Schaumburg police,” said the Daily Herald the next day.

“Wayne Grothe, 23, of Hoffman Estates was riding a motorcycle when it collided with a four-door Taurus driven by a 77-year-old Schaumburg woman just before 1 p.m. near the intersection of Roselle Road and Hartford Drive… The female driver was taken to Alexian Brothers Medical Center in Elk Grove with minor injuries.

“Roselle Road between Weathersfield Way and Wise Road was closed for several hours while police investigated.

“No charges have been filed in the crash and the investigation continues.”

Team of Rivals

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Rain early in the morning, again in the afternoon, and more promised for Friday morning. You could call it a rainy spell. Just when the grass and other flora were looking a little thirsty from the intermittent August heat.

The other day I picked up Team of Rivals at a resale shop. Hardcover version, in decent condition. Cost: $1.75 plus tax. Considering my known interest in presidential history, it’s about time I got around to reading some Doris Kearns Goodwin. I haven’t gotten far yet, but so far so good. I’m looking forward to a detailed account of the Republican Convention of 1860. Remarkable how history turns on such seemingly small events.

And I’m going to wonder, where did I see Goodwin speak? I know I did, at some real estate convention or other in the early or mid-2000s, back when I used to go to such things more regularly. Can’t remember exactly when or where, though. Speakers I saw at one time or other included her, but also the elder George Bush (post-presidency), James Cavill, Newt Gingrich, James Lovell, and Colin Powell.

Not a Multi-Legged Creature

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Returning from my garage this afternoon, I discovered this clinging to one my sleeves. It startled me for a split second. “Sir, there is a multi-legged creature crawling on your shoulder.”

burr, August 2014It’s a burr from a large volunteer plant that grows next to our deck. The picture I took distorts the thing itself, as pictures often do. The burr measures only about an inch and a half in each direction.

It’s from the same plant that’s been growing there for years – here’s an image from June 2007 (and the plant’s slightly visible in the day before yesterday’s pic, behind the US flag). By late August, its stems and leaves are browning, leaving behind a lot of burrs. They’re gentle burrs, just grabbing onto your clothing, but not sharp enough to stab you. The Velcro of the plant world.

Water, Water, Water

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It might be the summer of pouring a bucket of ice water over your head – which will probably be remembered in the way flagpole sitting and goldfish swallowing are – but I’m not participating. The first I heard about it (ice water pouring, not flagpole sitting) was yesterday as I was driving Lilly and her friends somewhere. They were talking about it. But I would have heard about it today anyway, since I noticed something about it online at a place I usually visit.

I spotted peewee football players practicing in the park visible from my deck today, instead of baseball players. Some baseball will still be practiced and played in the weeks ahead. But peewee footballers mean the end of summer is nigh. So does the beginning of school. Lilly starts Thursday; Ann next Tuesday.

Even so, it’s still summer. This is the kind of thing you see during that season.

water truck

Not long ago, the village replaced some turf they’d dug up at the edge of my front lawn. Every now and then, a water truck shows up to water it.

Calendars for ’15

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One, two – which famed movie star’s going to die next to make it three? Not that that really happens, so vague is the idea. But if one does in a day or two, people are bound to point that out. Alas for Lauren Bacall, she might suffer from the Groucho Marx effect – dying too close to someone even better known at the time of her death, and thus being overshadowed in death. That happened to Mother Teresa as well.

Speaking of the tireless forward motion of Time, calendars for next year have already started arriving. Lilly’s high school calendar, which doubles as a thick wad of rules and policy, is too utilitarian to be that interesting. Better is the Teamwork Velocity Date Log Planner, an 8 x 10-inch booklet with each month from December 2014 to January 2016. Why a paper calendar in the era of electronic gizmos in your hand? I’d argue that it’s easier to find something on a calendar in this form. And it never crashes or has virus issues.

Anyway, the selection of holidays isn’t too odd: U.S. holidays, plus a number of Canadian and Mexican ones; a scattering of Jewish and Islamic dates. I do see that a few Orthodox dates are mentioned. The next Orthodox Christmas, for instance, is January 7, 2015 on the Gregorian calendar. Kwanzaa lives on among calendar makers, and so does “Patriot Day” on September 11, which I don’t think I’ve seen anywhere else but a calendar.

Here’s one on the calendar that I’ve missed: National Tartan Day, which is April 6. TartandayScotland.com tells us that “in 2004, the House of Representatives decreed that April 6, the date of the signing of the 1320 Declaration of Arbroath, should be established as National Tartan Day, to recognise ‘The outstanding contribution and achievements made by Scottish Americans to the United States.’ ”

Each month at the top of the page is some CEO or entrepreneur wisdom. Quotes from the likes of Jack Welch, Donald Trump, and Marissa Mayer. Mostly living or not-too-long-dead captains of enterprise and invention, but John D. Rockefeller’s on the list, too. All well and good, but I’d rather see more quotes from plutocrats like Rockefeller, and more colorful quotes, too. His ought to be “God gave me my money,” and naturally, “The public be damned” springs to mind (William Henry Vanderbilt).

Do a Type of Revolution

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Google News sometimes turns up odd things. On Sunday evening, an item turned up in the Business section with this headline: “Marijuana helps Washington to earn more revenue,” published by an unknown entity called Upstart Magazine. The tipoff should be that no editor would keep “to” in that head. No editor whose native language was English, that is.

Sure enough, I defy you to tell me that the first paragraph of the story was written by a native English speaker. Not, mind you, a native speaker who can’t write. Somehow the difference is clear.

Marijuana was not legal to sell in Washington. But after making it legal to sell this in the state does a type of revolution. During the first month almost $3.8 million of Marijuana is sold out. Which makes the state tax revenue of $1 million.

Well, maybe the readership isn’t supposed to be native speakers, either.

My Online Encounter With Yabba

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I woke up this morning wondering, is there really a statue of a baseball player in London? I dreamed about it. I made notes in my dream, so that I could write about it. I didn’t think it the least bit odd. Such are dreams.

As far as I can tell, there are no such statues, at least not in a public setting. I didn’t spend a lot of time looking into it, though. But I did come across the Sporting Statues Project, which seems to list sport-themed statues all over the world. I looked at a couple of its maps out of idle curiosity, including the World Cricket Statue Location Map. At a glance, you can see where people care about cricket: the UK, the Indian subcontinent, Australia and the Caribbean.

Look a little further and you can examine curious works like “Yabba.” The web site says: “Sydney Cricket Ground. ‘Yabba’ (Stephen Gascoigne). A tribute by the Sydney Cricket Ground Trust to every spectator who has ever come to these Grounds. Sculptor: Cathy Weiszmann. Benefactor: Basil Sellers.”

“Yabba” was one Stephen Harold Gascoigne, “remembered as a heckler at Sydney Cricket Ground cricket and rugby league games in the early part of the 20th century. Yabba was known for his knowledgeable witticisms shouted loudly from ‘The Hill’, a grassy general admissions area of the SCG.” – Wiki

Good useless fact for the day. You never know where your dreams will lead you.

Little Jet in the Sky

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Last Friday afternoon I was out on my deck – partly to get it ready for the next day’s grilling event, but mostly just to loaf (is that verb disappearing?)  – and I heard an odd whizzing sound from somewhere above. It didn’t sound like a small aircraft, or at least one that was approaching the general aviation airport about a mile from where we live. Or a large insect near my face. Soon I realized it sounded like a jet. A small jet. That’s what it was.

For a moment I thought it was a drone. We’re nearly in the age of drones, after all, and not long ago I read about a drone spotted near one of the highways near where I live. I didn’t see it, but it turned out to be doing surveying work at a construction site.

What I heard and then saw on Friday was a model airplane flying in circles above the park visible from my back yard – a model jet airplane. I could also see the guy in the park controlling the thing. I had no idea there were model jets. All the model planes I’ve ever seen had props.

According to RC Airplane World (RC = radio controlled, I assume), “RC jets, whether gas turbine or electric ducted fan (EDF) powered, can provide the ultimate radio control flying experience if you’re looking to fly faster model aircraft.

“True gas turbine RC jets, however, are not for the beginner. They are very serious model aircraft that you have to work up to after gaining a large amount of radio control flying experience and an equally large amount of cash. They’re serious business!

“But the good news is that if you do like the idea of flying a radio control jet then there are plenty of options available these days; foam RTF (Ready To Fly) electric powered jets have become commonplace in recent years.”

I don’t know what kind of jet this fellow had, but a jet it was, and he made it do various maneuvers over the park and then landed it. Remarkable the things you see in the sky sometimes.

Arms & Armor at Dusk

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How often do you have the chance to wear a chainmail shirt? Not very often, unless you’re an arms and armor enthusiast, like my old friend Scott. He attended our Saturday barbecue and brought some items for us to look at, including a chainmail shirt, a breastplate, and a couple of swords. Here’s me in the mail, and Scott in the breastplate.

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAScott said the mail shirt was made in India, in the style of medieval Europe. Getting into the mail took some doing, and so did just standing up in it, so heavy is it.

“No wonder knights needed squires,” Kevin, another barbecue attendee, said during all of the rigmarole involved in me putting the thing on. That meant me getting on my knees, and Scott guiding the shirt down, with my head and arms careful to go through their respective holes. No wonder indeed. Not just to put it on and take it off a living knight, but to loot it from dead knights when the time came. Hard to imagine walking around, or riding a horse, or going into battle wear such weights, but then again I’m a pudgy 21st-century man, not a 13th-century tough.

The swords were very cool, too. This is one of them.

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAWe examined them at some length at dusk. Scott told us what kind they were, and where the styles had been popular, and showed us some moves, but my memory for those details is poor.

What I remember is that the longer of the two was quite heavy, while the shorter wasn’t so heavy. Both were serious blades.

Dear Golf Road Tailgater From This Morning:

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Plenty of people tailgate, or at least drive uncomfortably close to the car ahead of them. It’s an intelligence deficit, a failure to grasp the most basic physics that not only risks the offender’s health and property, but someone else’s.

You, however, are a special class of butthole. I could see you well in my rear-view mirror because you were ever so close. I could practically see the steam coming out of your ears, and that scowl on your ugly face.

The tooting of your horn was a nice touch, which you probably believed would inspire me to greater speed. Funny thing about human psychology, though – which you probably grasp as well as basic physics – the noise inspired me only to maintain my speed. I was tempted to slow down.

Speaking of speed, the car next to me and I were both traveling about the speed limit. A little more sometimes, a little less sometimes, but about right for that road. Meaning that you wanted to supplement your recklessness by adding excessive speed to the mix.

Our encounter lasted all of about 30 seconds, since I did eventually move over. You had nothing to do with it. I just wanted to turn left, and needed to stop in the turning lane to yield the right-of-way. Sure enough, you sped off, in a rush to get to the next red light.

But I wish you well, butthole, or at least that you never plow into anyone else. If you must have an accident, make it a solo date with a telephone pole somewhere.