Christmas at Ollie’s

Choose unwisely during this time of the year, and you end up in a crowded retail setting. Not the worst fate imaginable, but I can think of better things to do, such as visit less popular stores – or at least less crowded at any given moment – and look at things.

Christmas at Ollie’s, you could say.

I might be mistaken, but I believe agriculture in the polar regions is meager indeed. On the other hand, Santa surely controls land in temperate zones, including productive cropland of all sorts. His is an operation with a global reach. But doesn’t he have farmer elves to do the actual work?

Be the life of the party.

Put something under the tree for the small fry.

Yahtzee Jr.? Kids these days. We played the same Yahtzee as the adults when we were kids, as we liked it. Actually, I only remember playing Yahtzee a few times, mostly with my cousin, and not especially liking it. Now I’ve forgotten what it involves, except rolling dice a lot. Maybe I should look it up and re-acquaint myself with it. Nah.

Not a Christmas item particularly, but the thought of shooting dog treats just makes me smile. It might or might not really work, in the sense of getting the dog to play along. Of course, it is food, so dogs might be keen to chase down the treats from the get-go. Watching that would be the amusement for the human. I haven’t lived around a cat long, but my sense is that if you shot treats at a cat, the animal would make itself scarce.

Tannenbaum ’24

The Christmas tree business is still mostly fragmented, with some 16,600 farms growing Christmas trees on nearly 300,000 acres in the United States, according to the 2022 USDA Census of Agriculture. Some farms are large – a wholesaler called Holiday Tree Farms in Oregon’s Willamette Valley asserts that it ships 1,000,000 trees a year, grown on 1,500 acres. But no single entity dominates.

Good thing, too. If an outfit called CTree Group controlled, say, 50 percent of the market, we’d have to buy an annual subscription to receive our trees in December.

The cash money I spent today at a Christmas tree lot with no name here in the northwest suburbs pretty much went straight into the pocket of the farmer. And I mean that literally. That’s where he put it.Christmas trees Christmas trees

He and his (I assume) wife, both of whom looked roughly my age, except more grizzled from spending much more time outside, were stationed at the small trailer, taking money, chain-sawing the stumps and netting the whole trees, for easier transport. These things they did for me. I asked whether theirs were Michigan trees. Over the years, some of our trees have been, including those from the UP. No, Wisconsin. Just as good, I told them.

The thought that the money goes directly to the owner makes it less annoying that the price was up again this year ($65), and that many trees in the lot were priced at over $100, a price I’m sure not to pay. But not completely un-annoying.

The lot, as many are, is set up on an underutilized section of parking in a nondescript strip center. But not completely nondescript. I was glad to see the record store is still there, though I’ve never been in.

I hadn’t noticed this before, also in the strip center.

An organization I’d never heard of. Even so, I have to admit the name Mountain of Fire & Miracles Ministries has a peel of thunder and a whiff of brimstone about it. Makes you sit up and pay attention.

Some detail.

I took it for an independent Protestant sect of the homegrown sort, but no. This location is an outpost of MFM, a Nigerian Protestant sect – at least, in the sense that it isn’t Catholic — founded in 1989. Here’s something from the church’s web site, under “Mission and Vision” as one of the objectives of the ministry:

To build an aggressive end-time army for the Lord. MFM is an end-time church where we build an aggressive end-time army for the Lord. An end-time church is a church where a sinner enters with two options: he either repents or does not come back, contrary to the present day church where sinners are comfortable and find things so easy and convenient.

I don’t know much about the organization, not really, considering how ignorant I am about most things Nigerian. Still, its presence tells me that there must be more Nigerians here in the northwest suburbs than I realized. The world not only comes to Chicago, it comes to the Chicago suburbs.

Trick of the Light

When in doubt, post pictures of a cat.Minnie the Cat

Cat images are the road to virtual fame, I understand. No? That or posting selfies from dangerous places, and dying as a result. I don’t think that strategy is for me, though I like a good vista as much as anyone.

Municipal holiday lights are up.

Actually they have been since just before Thanksgiving, but I didn’t get around to visiting this particular park until the other day, just ahead of the numbing cold that moved into the area.

When pointing my cell phone camera at the light array below, I noticed something odd. Notice that the horizontal gray bands in these successive images, both unretouched, taken a fraction of a second apart – as fast as I could push the button.

As I looked through the phone, the horizontal gray bands appeared to be moving downward, but such apparent motion wasn’t visible to my eyes. Something like the distortions involved photographing an image of a video screen. The still images captured them as they seemed to travel.

I knew there must be a reason for this involving how light behaves, and sure enough, there is. I read this article about the phenomenon, and the one it links to, but don’t ask me to explain it. The best I can do is, light be weird.

Cybertrucks on the Loose

This was a first in Illinois. Spotted the other day in a northwest suburban parking lot after dark, but even so it stands out.

I’d seen a handful of them before, but not around where I live. Rather, I saw three of these oddities on the road this summer, one in Montana, another in Washington state, and yet another in Wyoming. As those vehicles were moving, and so were we, I didn’t snap any pictures. Tesla Cybertrucks, they are called.

They were all black. Is Tesla taking the Model T approach to color so famously commented on by Mr. Ford himself? (Which isn’t quite true.) If I wanted a pink Cybertruck, which would really stand one, would that be possible? Here’s one aftermarket gold one. Gold-plated, anyway, which seems something like having a gold toilet.

Some tens of thousands of Cybertrucks have been sold, but apparently not quite at the rate Tesla anticipated. Production has slowed for the moment.

MSRP: $82,235 to $102,235, according to Car and Driver. The magazine further has this to say: “Tesla’s otherworldly electric pickup is a mash-up of polarizing styling and bleeding-edge technology that results in surprisingly nice-to-drive hulk of a truck,” which also uses the terms “moonshot tech” and “unique look.”

Polarizing styling, eh? Otherworldly? Unique look, that’s for sure. The magazine is being polite. Even at the low end of the range, that price is madness, especially for a vehicle looking a lot like a car of the future, as drawn by an eight-year-old boy 50 years ago.

Late Fall Fabbrini

Tonight’s weather, per the Weather Underground: Windy with partly cloudy skies. Low 11F. Winds NW at 20 to 30 mph. Winds could occasionally gust over 40 mph.

As early as 6 pm, we were getting gusts, but the temps weren’t as low as they would be later. Regardless of temperature, a good time to stay home and hope your 21st-century infrastructure – and I’m glad to say our heater is this century’s vintage – fails you not. Also, that your trees stand up to the gusts.

The weekend before Thanksgiving, when it wasn’t exactly warm, but warm enough for a stroll around a pond, we went to the always-pleasant Fabbrini Park. I also like that name. I picture one of those giant posters advertising the Great Fabbrini, whose giant face, a mustache a yard long, glares from the poster – a caped, top-hatted box-office draw for Vaudeville. He was in some movies and had a short career in early live TV.

Autumn was winding down that day.Fabbrini Park Fabbrini Park Fabbrini Park

Sustenance for the winter. For some animals, that is.Fabbrini Park

A new crop of small memorials at newly planted trees.Fabbrini Park Fabbrini Park Fabbrini Park

Also on the grounds, pickleball. With a pickleball flag?

Pickleballers?

Now it’s too cold for pickleball, or at least I assume that. Maybe nothing less than a blizzard will stop true p’ballers. More likely, the sport continues in warmer places. For all I know, Sopchoppy, Florida is even now evolving into a major pickleball hub.

Twenty-Plus Years of December Firsts

Chilly days over the last week, a slide into winter even before the calendar turned to December. The first of this month now always reminds me of the sizable snow we got that day in 2006, coming as if winter were actually was signified by a particular day. Why that sticks in memory, it’s hard to say. Memory’s an oddity, often as not.

The following are the first paragraphs from postings on December 1, here at my corner of the Internet. If a year isn’t listed, that means I didn’t post that day. By my count, only eight of the 16 postings started with weather, counting one that is a quote from The Sun Also Rises about how good it is to be in a warm bed on a cold night. A few others mentioned some aspect of the holiday season, such as cops chasing a shoplifter with a taste for German Christmas ornaments.

2022: As expected, full winter is here. Not much more to say about that till a blizzard comes. We’re overdue one, at least when it comes to my completely nonscientific feelings on the matter. Not that I want one, just that it’s been a while, and the Old Man might want to let us have it this year.

2021: Ambler’s Texaco Gas Station is on the edge of Dwight, Illinois, not far from the Interstate, and after our short visit on Sunday, Ann and I went further into town, seeking a late lunch. We found it at El Cancun, a Mexican restaurant in the former (current?) Independent Order of Odd Fellows building, dating from 1916. Looks like the orange of the restaurant has been pasted on the less-colorful IOOF structure.

2020: About a month ago, our long-serving toaster oven gave up the mechanical ghost after how many years? No one could remember. Eventually, its heating element refused to heat, so we left it out for the junkmen at the same time as the standard trash, and sure enough it vanished in the night.

2019: December didn’t arrive with a blast of snow, but instead gray skies that gave up rain from time to time, which — by Sunday just after dark — had turned into light snow. In other words, weather like we’ve had much of the time since the Halloween snow fell, followed by the Veterans Day snow.

2016: Someone’s already thought of the Full Griswold. Maybe I’d heard of it before, but I don’t know where. I thought of it this evening driving along, noting the proliferation of Christmas lights in this part of the suburbs. Some displays, of course, are more elaborate than others, but I haven’t seen any Full Griswolds just yet.

2015: Some years, December comes in with the kind of snow we had before Thanksgiving. This year, rain as November ended and December began. El Niño?

2014: After a brief not-cold spell on Saturday and Sunday – I can’t call it warm, but still not bad – it’s winter cold again. Diligent neighbors used the interlude to sting lights on their houses or finishing removing leaves from their lawns. I did no such things.

2013: I took lousy notes during our four weeks in London in December 1994, so I can’t remember exactly when it was we took a day trip to Canterbury. It wasn’t December 1, because that day I saw a revival of The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie somewhere in the West End, and after the show the lead actress made an appeal for donations to fund AIDS research, since it was World AIDS Day.

2011: On Saturday, we went to Chicago Premium Outlets, which is actually in Aurora, Illinois, just off I-88. I saw something there I’ve read about, but never seen before: an electric vehicle charging station.

2010: Some years, December 1 means snow. This year, for instance, unlike last year. But not that much; an early breath of winter across the landscape. Just enough to dust the sidewalks and streets, but not cover the grass. As if to say, this is only a taste of things to come, fool.

2009: “Whoa! Whoa! WHOA!” I heard that and when I turned around, caught a glimpse of a Chicago cop running by. I’m pretty sure he had said it. A moment before that I’d entered the German Christmas ornament shop at Kristkindlmarkt [sic] Chicago in Daley Plaza to take a look at the large selection of pretty, and pretty expensive, ornaments. Someone else in the shop said something about chasing a shoplifter, so I left the shop to do a little rubbernecking. Cops chasing a guy beats piles of German Christmas ornaments any day.

2008: “After supper we went up-stairs and smoked and read in bed to keep warm. Once in the night I woke and heard the wind blowing. It felt good to be warm and in bed.”
The Sun Also Rises

2006: We were warned, and sure enough sometime after midnight on December 1, 2006, the clouds opened up, as if to tell us that today is the real beginning of winter, and don’t you forget it. First came sleet, then snow. It was still snowing at 6:30 in the morning when I got a call telling me that Lilly had no school. By about 10, it had stopped. We’d had about a foot of snow, judging by my unscientific eyeballing.

2005: Back in the late ’80s, one of the perks of my job at a publishing company was a real-time connection to the AP wire at our workstations. Stories queued up in the order they were published electronically, newer ones pushing older ones down toward the bottom. The interface was simple: green characters, no graphics, no hyperlinks.

2004: I read in the papers that tonight’s airing of Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer represents the show’s 40th anniversary, making it nearly as old as me. I have a sneaking feeling it will be more durable than me, playing for a good many more decades before it finally peters out, but that isn’t because I like it. No, I never cared for it.

2003: Time to start this thing again, before the wheels completely rust up. December 1st is a good day to do it, too, being the start of meteorological winter. No need to wait around for the solstice around here, since it’s pretty cold just about every day now. What better definition of winter do you need?

Thursday Leftovers

Sure enough, a dusting of snow stuck overnight. It won’t last, but what does?

Regards for Thanksgiving. Back to posting around December 1, which can claim to be the start of winter, in as much as a single day can.

The figgy pudding Yuriko made on Sunday. Much of it is gone now, but Ann will be able to sample it when she’s back for the holiday. Bet she’ll be glad for the opportunity.

A stone at Graceland Cemetery last Sunday.Graceland Cemetery, Chicago

No name on it, except “Asano,” which I take to mean this is a work of Hiroyuki Asano, not a stone memorializing him, since he still seems to be alive. Maybe he’s planning ahead for his presence in Graceland, which I believe in the undertaker biz would count as “preneed.” (Pre-need?)

Or it could be a memorial for someone who didn’t want their name on it. That’s unusual, but not unknown: Erma Bombeck’s boulder in Dayton comes to mind. Or, the person who commissioned Asano’s piece at Graceland is also still alive, details to be added later.

John Welborn Root, Chicago architect (d. 1891). Forgot to post him.Graceland Cemetery, Chicago

In my efforts to see stones for well-known people, I also almost forgot to take a look at more ordinary folk. Almost, but not quite.Graceland Cemetery, Chicago Graceland Cemetery, Chicago Graceland Cemetery, ChicagoGraceland Cemetery, Chicago

FamilySearch tells me (footnote numbers removed; but there were eight of them for a single paragraph) about the 161 Depot Brigade. It also features the unit patch, which is to the right.

Secretary of War Newton Baker authorized Major General Samuel Sturgis to organize the 161 Depot Brigade, an element of the 87th Division (National Army). It was later detached and placed directly under Camp Pike, Arkansas, as an independent unit.

The brigade filled two purposes: one was to train replacements for the American Expeditionary Forces (AEF); the other was to act as a receiving unit for men sent to camps by local draft boards. During most of 1918, the brigade was commanded by Brigadier General Frederick B. Shaw.

A different sort of memorial, in a different place – a nearby park that we visit often. We’d noticed Jake “The Snake” Popp’s bench before. Looks like people who remember The Snake fondly decorated his bench for the fall.

In the same park, a lamppost, ready to do its job.

On the post, a sign says it is a product of Traditional Concrete Inc., of Menomonee Falls, Wisconsin. Guess that name stresses the long-lasting — and traditional — material that goes into the company’s product, which is fine. But if I started a lamppost company, it would be Fiat Lux Inc.

Winter Preview

We’re at the front edge of the first winterish event since last spring. A pretty mild event, as November tends to dish out. Come to think of it, winterish is one of the kinds of days you get in November, with others including gray and damp, and ones that are more pleasant than expected. Sunday was one of those latter kind, an excellent day for a cemetery stroll.

Today and tomorrow (11/20-21) amounts to a mild winter preview. The graph to the right barely needs values, since it captures the downward slide well enough without them. Still, the straight blue line is freezing: 32° F., with the gray lines marking 10-degree differences. Red line: Temps. Green line: Dew point. Purple line: “Feels like.”

Dew point is one of those concepts that I need to look up whenever I think about it, which isn’t that often. It’s not as if anyone will ever say to you, “How about that dew point last night? Man!”

Still, it’s good to know things, but for whatever reason, some things have little traction for me when it comes to being remembered or understood; and dew point is one of those. Just another small reason I’m not a scientist.

This afternoon the wind was brisk and some light snow fell. Nothing serious enough to interfere with errands. One of those took me to the vicinity of the Schaumburg Township Library. There has been a vacant lot across the street from the library for as long as I’ve known about the spot – more than 20 years. Signs have come and gone, promising this or that development, then nothing.

Now something has appeared. Or is in the process of appearing, via new construction.

Hopscotch Beer, Bar and Kitchen. A little looking around makes me think it’s not part of a chain. Usually that’s easy enough to find out. This place doesn’t seem to be affiliated with HopScotch Beer and Whiskey Bar in Franklin Park, just south of O’Hare, which still has a Facebook page but seems otherwise to be defunct. Or related to a standalone place called Hopscotch Kitchen & Bar in Oklahoma City, which seems to be in business.

The Facebook page of Level Construction, which is building the site in Schaumburg, says the restaurant will feature “a vibrant gaming area ?, an energetic dance floor ?? and indoor golfing and sports simulators ⛳?.” It included exactly those emojis.

Emojis are no extra charge, I hope.

The Fate of Pumpkins & Mice

We put a couple of pumpkins out for ornaments last month in our front yard. Visible decay in the not-too-distant-future is their fate, but unseen creatures accelerated things. Squirrels are top of the suspect list.

October 28PUMPKINS

November 8PUMPKINS

With no dog on patrol, squirrels and rabbits and field mice have been having a grand old time this year in our yards. At least, that’s my thinking. The uptick in mouse population means some of their number are raiding the house, which has inspired countermeasures on our part, such as traps. Not catch-and-release PETA-approved milquetoast sorts of traps, but standard instant death via snap.

That and ultrasonic devices that supposedly deter the entrance of rodents in the first place. The battle is ongoing. After a week or so of no activity, we’ve murderized one more mouse each night so far this week. Removing the remains in the morning is a task that falls to me, following traditional gender roles in this case. I can’t call it a pleasant chore, but there is a bit of satisfaction in showing the creatures the literal and metaphoric doors.

Madsen Drive Walk

It was an odd ambition, and fairly minor, but I’m glad I fulfilled it. Namely, a 20-minute or so walk along Madsen Drive, a street in Bloomingdale, Illinois. Also glad I did it when I did: October 24, for the colors.

Bloomingdale is a sizable burg in DuPage County, but there’s nothing conventionally distinctive about Madsen Drive. It isn’t on anyone’s list, such as Ten Best Can’t-Miss Bucket List Don’t Get FOMO Travel Faves, etc. I know about it because I’ve been driving on it for years as a shortcut to a warehouse store we often visit. For quite a while, I had this idea that it would be a mildly scenic walk, since the drive is nice, but things whiz by. I also noted that a sidewalk runs all the way along it.

I was right: mildly scenic. Not everywhere gets Grand Teton-level scenery, but a lot places have enough for a nice-day stroll in the suburbs.

The street is industrial, which in this case means businesses located in distribution warehouses, which also means they might pay attention to who is in their parking lots. So parking somewhere near the street and then walking around might not be a good idea. The street is small, so no parking allowed on it either.

As we headed for our warehouse store that day, I told Yuriko that I was dropping myself off at the intersection of Madsen and Covington Drive (blue box), and she could drive on to the store. I would walk Madsen and meet her there (red box). She didn’t share my minor ambition in this case, because who would?

Near the dropoff.Madsen Drive, Bloomingdale Madsen Drive, Bloomingdale Madsen Drive, Bloomingdale

Though small, the road is surprisingly busy, something you notice when on the sidewalk, but not usually when you’re driving the road. Traffic is somewhat spaced out. Still, I saw a number of trucks headed for the warehouses along Madsen.Madsen Drive, Bloomingdale Madsen Drive, Bloomingdale

Not much in the way of original or ornate design, but I’ve come to appreciate the modern warehouse as workaday marvel that it is. An vital sinew of retail trade.

Note on the map that besides warehouses, there are wetlands. Could have been at the insistence of local authorities that they were left alone. I hope so anyway. This unnamed, driftwood pond was close enough to the street to get a good look.Madsen Drive, Bloomingdale Madsen Drive, Bloomingdale Madsen Drive, Bloomingdale

Warehouse districts also mean rail lines.Madsen Drive, Bloomingdale

All the many times I’ve crossed the line at this point by car, I’ve never had to wait for a train. No trains either when I crossed on foot. There must be some traffic, but even so I’m reminded of a Charles Addams cartoon about an abandoned line, from one of the collections we had around the house when I was young. His work sticks with you. Wonder how many people who watched the Addams Family movies knew about the originals.