A pin?

Note: I feel like since everyone here at work knows I'm leaving it's ok for me to blog about it. So here we go.

Today, as I sat quietly at my desk, reviewing yet another spreadsheet, some cheerful girl (never seen her before) comes bouncing up and very enthusiastically says, "Our organization has just ordered new pins for everyone!" (Note, I am not a dental hygienist, so it doesn't look like this one above). We have "new" pins? Did we have old ones? Did we need these pins in order to help reduce poverty around the globe? Apparently the answer to that is a resounding YES!

We're not talking about some kind of cheapo, political or "I heart DC" pin. We're talking gold plated, shiny, "I'm somebody (or am trying to convince myself that I am)" sort of pin. The reality is that the last time I wore a pin it was my sorority pin. Actually, maybe this is why people still have a fondness for pins...because they miss the "glory days" of sporting their sorority or fraternity pin. But I digress. But either way, this just isn't the same...this is the big leagues, boys.

Then another thought hit me. "Wow, so I guess our admin budget must not be oh-so-very tight, that we're ordering shiny, glossy pins for everyone to wear on their lapel. Huh. Well. Could have fooled me." I thought our admin budget was so tight that we weren't hiring people and they weren't replenishing our plastic forks. Interesting.

And so my cubemate (actually, my former boss, who is now a consultant here) and I just looked at each other and then at Miss Bubbly, rolled our eyes and tried to say something nice about our new logo, which is so much, much worse than our old logo (we had to add stars and stripes to show everyone that we're 1) American and 2) patriotic. I'm not kidding.) Cubemate ended up making a joke about asking whether or not Obama would wear one and what it would mean if he didn't. Ha ha, I said.

And then I became oh so very thankful. Now I'll finally fit in to the "pin wearing mafia" of Washington, DC. You're a nobody until you strategically place yourself in a specific group by the 1/2 inch lapel pin that you wear. These are the ones that matter:

*the state people (American flag and state flag of your choice or state logo)

*the "I like people to wonder if I'm a Member of Congress" people (circular pin that looks oddly "official".)

* the "I care about humanity angst-ridden youth who support their favorite cause on their tshirt" people (Note, these pins are never shiny or gold-plated. They're usually plastic. As they should be, given that their money and time is better spent on their cause of choice)

*the people who love their country (American flag ONLY), and who will judge every politician's -or human being really- patriotism on whether or not he or she wears a pin as well. We've all heard about THEM. And aren't they right?

So thank you, dear Employer, for finally giving me the thrill of placing a small hole in my coat or blouse and for allowing me to boldly proclaim my love for my work and my country with this new pin. I will never again be the same.

The pin is in.

(If only I could find where I threw it after Miss Bubbly walked away)

Weekend update

This weekend M and I headed to the hills o' Kentucky for some R&R and family visiting. Here are the highlights:

* Hitting 100,000 miles on the odometer
This is a happy, sad and scary moment all at once. 100,000 miles seems like a LOT of miles. But the SUV is a 1999...so that's not a lot, right? And then that stupid song "I would walk 500 miles" kept going over and over and over in my head.

* Eating a sit down dinner for two for $20
This DOES NOT happen in WDC. Trust me. I mean we're talking a full, sit-down meal. Wow.

* Visiting with my favorite grandparents
There are few people I love more than my grandparents. They are the most active, with it 80ish year olds that I know. I love being with them. I love talking politics with them. I just love them. Period.

* Boating and swimming on Yatesville lake
"Boating" makes it sound sort of like "yachting", which it wasn't. But man, it was good. Though it's really weird to me how there would be sections of really warm water, then sections of really cold water. And I don't think it's because M was peeing.

* Continuing to peel from our trip to FL
How long should I expect my skin to fall off???? Seriously! I even exfoliated a lot last night thinking it would help. It most definitely made it worse.

* Picking fresh asparagus and strawberries in Grandpa's garden
Man, seeing the bounty of Grandpa's garden reminds me, again, that we need a garden. Broccoli, potatoes, asparagus, strawberries, onions, lettuce (which, by the way, looks like it's just been thrown on the ground when it grows), grapes, gooseberries, zucchini, tomatoes, corn, etc etc....I would save over $200 a month if I grew my own fruits and vegetables. Geez.

* Aunt S's new house
We'll grow that garden, mentioned above, when we buy a house, and I love Aunt S's new one. The only problem is that I get severely depressed when I think about what we could afford "Not in DC" (or Chicago, for that matter). Yippeee!

* Slowing down. Finally.
May has been a crazy month, and after a hectic week (and a projected hectic week to come), sitting on the back porch, reading about FDR and eating fresh-picked strawberries really can't be beat.

Our form of "protesting"

If you're lucky enough to be like M or me (oh so lucky), you would work right near the White House and spend most of your lunches on pretty days sitting in Lafayette Square, outside the White House. You would also see at least two protests a day (if you consider a woman in a tent a protest, then maybe three), ranging from things I don't understand to things I do.





Today, as M and I walked around the park and down Pennsylvania Avenue, we came up with a BRILLIANT plan as we heard and saw about ten people holding a big banner about something or another and using a megaphone to yell "Obama stop the Tamil people slaughter" (for more on that, read up on the civil war in Sri Lanka. Messy, horrible stuff)



So here's our idea.

A few clarifications first. One, it will look nothing like the picture above. Two, it will most likely be only the two of us. We'll need to borrow a megaphone from someone, if you know anyone. Then, we'll make a big sign and on it....we'll draw a big brick house. And we'll make another sign, and on it we're going to write "OBAMA-- CAN WE RENT YOUR HOUSE IN HYDE PARK?" Then we'll stand there, chanting over and over and over and over again phrases such as "we need a house in Hyde Park, you're not using yours" and "We'll take really good care and clean up after ourselves" and "The lower the rent the happier we'll be!" We might even cry or get emotional, too (depending on how much of a crowd we draw). Every time someone walks out of the White House, even though we know it's not the President, we'll yell even louder.

I mean it works for the other protestors, right?

If you want to join us, just let us know. We'll be planning it for one of the hottest mid-afternoons in July or August.

Overheard: That's not natural

I've got to give props to Obama's joke about John Boehner and his...um....surely very, very natural tan. He just likes being outdoors, ok? Outdoors in his tanning bed.


From CNN: At the White House Correspondents' Association Dinner a week ago, the country’s first African-American president said he had “a lot in common” with Boehner who is Caucasian. “He is a person of color,” Obama joked before a massive ballroom of celebrities and Washington journalists. “Although not a color that appears in the natural world,” Obama added, barely able to keep his composure as he delivered the dig.

Chicago Arts and Culture: Hot dog!

You've heard of the famous Chicago pizza. But what about the...hot dog?! Here, the brief story of what makes a Chicago dog so different.

In 1893 the World's Columbian Exposition in Chicago first served Vienna beef frankfurters, the most often served hot dog today. The frankfurter is most often boiled or steamed and, sometimes, grilled (called a char-dog). According to Wikipedia, the dog weighs approximately 1/8 of a pound. But it's not just the "all beef" that makes a Chicago hot dog different. It's the toppings...and you sure as heck better not ask for ketchup.

* poppy seed hot dog bun
* yellow mustard
* raw chopped white onion
* bright green relish
* tomato wedges
* kosher dill pickle spear
* dash of celery salt (this is really, really good. I promise.)

Also according to Wikipedia, Chicago has more hot dog restaurants than McDonald's, Wendy's and Burger King combined. The most famous hot dog restaurants are Superdawg (often featured on Food Network...think dancing hot dogs on the roof), Fluky's, Portillo's and Gene & Jude's (to name only a few).

I need to go find me a hot dog now...

Overheard: Airplanes

Let me start with this disclaimer: I don't want to be that jerk that complains about the kid that always ends up sitting behind me on an airplane and kicks my seat constantly. Because everyone knows that I really love kids, and we hope to have a brood of our own one day. But seriously...let's work on children not kicking things in general, unless it's a ball.

Anyhow...

On our way back from Chicago a few weeks ago, this little girl and her mother were seated behind me. Cute kid. Horribly behaved. It was an interesting ride, to say the least. I'll tell you more about it later.

As the plane was getting ready to land, the stewardess passed through the cabin one more time to pick up any more trash. Suddenly, in a VERY loud voice, I hear from behind me:

HEY GARBAGE LADY!!!!!

The little girl behind me, in the hopes of getting the attention of the stewardess is yelling at her. Her mother, mortified that she just called the stewardess "garbage lady" is doing one of those "whispering but really loud because you're mad" sort of things about how you don't call people "garbage lady" (note: wouldn't you, though, if they were in fact a garbage lady?)

I died laughing.

Chicago Arts and Culture: Darn it feels good to be a Gangsta

The times and tribulations of Al Capone and Bugs Moran

Al Capone was born in Brooklyn, New York to Italian immigrants, the fourth child of eight. From a relatively early age, Capone became involved in the gang life of Brooklyn and New York (5 Points Gang, Brooklyn Rippers, Junior Forty Thieves), and worked as both a bouncer and a bartender at local night clubs. It was while serving as a bouncer that Capone apparently “inadvertently insulted a woman” whose brother then slashed Capone’s face (Note: do not mess with girls who have big brothers). From then on, Al became known as Scarface.

Bugs Moran was born in St. Paul, Minnesota, of Polish-Irish descent (you’ve probably heard more about his Irish ancestry). Like Capone, Moran became involved in street crime at an early age; he was reportedly incarcerated three times before he turned 21. At the age of 19, Moran moved to the North Side of Chicago, where he began to work his way up the hierarchy of the North Side Gang. Moran received the name “Bugs” – slang for “crazy”- because he apparently had a horrible temper and was just a little bit off his rocker. Really?

Prohibition

On January 29, 1919, the ratification of the 18th amendment was certified, prohibiting the production and distribution of all alcohol…except that used for religious purposes. One year later, Prohibition went into effect. It was during this time that Capone and his mentor Johnny Torio moved to the South Side of Chicago, forming the South Side Gang (the names are very creative) and quickly became involved in the bootlegging empire of Chicago. Without going into too much detail, frequent skirmishes between the South Side Gang, North Side Gang (also big into bootlegging) and others were frequent to say the least, and a major turf war erupted between Moran and Capone. Moran, apparently believing himself to be a “better Catholic” than Capone because he did not engage in prostitution (Capone was both a bootlegger and the head of a prostitution ring…he did have syphilis, after all). Various attempts were made on each others lives, usually involving the death of at least a couple personal friends and/or security guards, but the two miraculously kept each other from killing the other.

Valentine’s Day

On February 14, 1929, six members of Moran’s gang- and one other dude- were in a garage in Lincoln Park (the North Side of Chicago) when the men were confronted by 4-6 other men, two dressed as Chicago policemen. I won’t go into the gory details, but it’s pretty darn gross, to say the least. While it’s still unclear as to whether or not all of the men were directly connected with the South Side gang (Moran was in the middle of hijacking Capone’s Detroit bootlegging business), it’s generally believed that Capone either orchestrated or directly led what would end in the slaughter of all seven men, one apparently misidentified by the killers as Moran himself (that had been the plan after all…kill the leader). Where Moran actually was depends on who you ask.

The End

It was following the St. Valentine’s Day Massacre that the federal government finally clued in on the illegal behavior of Capone; the Massacre also produced an outrage among the citizens of Chicago unlike criminal activity before. The Massacre also made a major dent in the power and strength of the Northside Gang, a dent which some claim they never recovered from.

By 1931, Capone had been arrested on income tax evasion and was sentenced to 11 years in prison. In prison (including a stint at Alcatraz), Capone’s health continued to deteriorate (syphilis is not a friend to the human body), and Capone was apparently often heard ranting about “Communists, foreigners and Bugs Moran.” Capone had a stroke in late January 1947, followed by pneumonia, followed by cardiac arrest; Capone finally passed away on January 25, 1947.

Moran himself was eventually eliminated from gang life in Chicago (apparently he wasn’t a very smart guy, and some say he was his own biggest problem), and spent his remaining years in and out of prison with little to no money. Finally dying from lung cancer in 1957, he was buried in the prison cemetery with approximately $100 to his name.

Cell phone interviews: a tale of what wasn't

A long, long time ago (yesterday), in a land far away (my office), I was preparing for my second round of phone interviews for a position in Chicago. On Monday the woman I had interviewed with the week before called me again to set up an interview with her boss, the SVP. "Yippee!" I thought. The position is one I'm definitely really excited about, and I'm glad that I made it to round two. We scheduled the interview for Tuesday at 3pm central time (that's 4pm eastern time), and I even left my French class early to make sure I had time to compose myself and not speak broken French when I picked up the phone.

I had booked a conference room in our office (actually, it's more like a closet, which is why it was open, because no one uses it except for phone calls.) I went in, shut the door, checked the "bars" on my cell phone (there were 4) AND my blackberry (also four) and sat down with my notes in front of me.

And waited.

And waited.

I surfed the internet on my blackberry.

I called M on my blackberry (not wanting to use my cell phone in case she called), asking him what I should do. Wait, he said. Awesome.

At this point it's now 4:30 my time, and I'm starting to think that maybe she had said 4 Chicago time. So I decide that must be what happened and I'll keep waiting.

So I wait.

And wait.

I happen to check my gmail on my blackberry. And there, looking up at me, is an email from the woman who was going to interview me. It said something about "sorry we couldn't connect today so let me know your availability Friday." Reader, I have no availability Friday...I'll be on a plane to sunny Florida!! My heart sank. Awesome. "Unfortunately I don't have any availability on Friday but am still available now if you are" I type back, thinking it's sort of the nail in the coffin for this job. I call M again, about to cry, and then slowly sulk back to my desk.

As I complain to my co-worker (everyone knows I'm leaving) about what happened, my phone vibrates. What? Voicemail??? I quickly walk into a semi-private room and listen to the voicemail. It was her. At 4:15 my time, just 15 minutes late, apologizing for being late and asking me to call her back. ARE YOU KIDDING ME???!!!!! I HATE MY PHONE!!!!!!! Apparently it likes to pull on my heart strings by TELLING me that I have full service when in actuality I have NO service. The call never showed up on my call log, and I got the voicemail AN HOUR LATER!!

I call her back, apologizing profusely, explaining that my phone decided not to work (how lame is that?) and asked her to call me back if she was available either at the number I gave her or my blackberry number. I also emailed her back, apologizing for so many emails, to see if we could set something up for Wednesday or Thursday.

Thankfully the story has a happy ending, in that we'll be talking this afternoon. But for about an hour there, I thought I was done for. I thought about suing my phone company for false advertising (I won't say which company, but it begins with an A- and ends with a -T&T) about how they have so many bars in so many places, except for those places that you actually need them, like your office which is in the middle of downtown in a major city. But since I'm such a loving and forgiving person, I decided not to take it up with them and will instead just blog about my frustration. And cross my fingers that it doesn't happen again.

Here's hoping the story ends in living happily ever after with a new job in Chicago.

J. Crew Jenna: Who are you and why should I want your picks?

So additional pounds (I’m workin’ on it!) have certainly retired a lot of my clothing, but I still like to think I’ve got some style, and I certainly have a husband who has a good style eye (I’m not kidding). While the woman of yesteryear who spent lots and lots of money on clothes has all but vanished (those Kate Spade shoes were majorly on sale!!) I still receive clothing emails from J. Crew, Banana Republic, Nordstrom’s and Daily Candy (looking for great deals on winter clothing for Chicago, of course).

So today I opened my latest J. Crew email and was accosted by something called “Jenna’s Picks.” Jenna Bush? (I thought J Crew was all about the Obamas these days). Jenna Jameson? (If you don’t know who that is do NOT google her. Seriously. Trash. I'm not linking to anything of her!) Jenna Elfman? (anyone remember her?)

After a little googling of my own, I figured out that “J. Crew Jenna” (hereafter called “JJ”) is the Creative Director of J. Crew, and has been doing this “Jenna’s Favorites” thing for a while now (how am I just now picking up on this?) Hmm. Ok, that’s nice. She’s probably got a good handle on what’s cool, chic and in style right now. But let me get this straight. JJ, who is a top employee at J. Crew, is picking out her favorite J. Crew pieces and emailing them around to J. Crew followers, so they’ll go into their local J. Crew so they can get their J. Crew on. Umm, am I supposed to believe that JJ is an unbiased observer? Or that she “just happened” to choose that $100 alligator turquoise blue belt over the other turquoise blue (what can I say, J. Crew loves the color) belt that’s on sale for $19.99? And that the SAME strapless patchwork madras dress they’ve been hawking the last 5 years is still cool? I guess “preppy” never goes out of style. And that I REALLY need to buy these eleven new pieces every season (don’t forget “resort”, “late spring” and “Indian Summer” collections!) to stay in style? How come she didn’t pick everything? Shouldn’t she love it all as the Creative Director? True, the email does link nicely to the whole kit and kaboodle on the website. I have to say, though, it sort of weirds me out that J. Crew Customer Relations is based out of Lynchburg, VA. I’m thinking Jerry Falwell would probably not have approved of this season’s short shorts. I'm just sayin'.

So thank, Jenna, for your picks. No doubt you know your stuff. But I think I’ll be looking for a chic “no frills”- as you describe it- white dress that costs a little bit less than $115, and a cute new satin clutch that comes in at less than $150. It IS an essential for the “sort of spring but sometimes cold and sometimes hot” season. Thanks for reminding me.

Overheard: Shut the door!

I've shared this with some of you before.

Overheard.

A man (I know who you are, dude, I work with you).

Clipping his fingernails AND toenails.

In the office.

With his office door open.

I think I'm going to throw up.

Chicago Arts and Culture: Hyde Park, Race and "Urban Renewal"

Most of you probably don't know the fascinating story of urban renewal in Hyde Park. While I certainly don't do justice to the whole story, it's one that every person interested in city and community living should know, and is an important part of the intellectual, social and religious culture of Hyde Park. I share my summary and thoughts below.

In the Beginning

In the 1850s, successful Chicago businessman Paul Cornell purchased a block of land on the South side of Chicago, with the hopes of attracting other businessmen and their families to the area. It worked. Famous men such as Marshall Field (yes, of the department store Marshall Fields), Cornell and John D Rockefeller built massive homes in the area (many still there today), bringing with them their wealth, society, and power, and setting up what would become a fashionable place for high-society vacations and summer getaways. By 1891, Rockefeller had founded the University of Chicago in what had become known as the Hyde Park area; as the University grew in international stature, so did Hyde Park. Not surprisingly, the population boasted 4 times more businessmen per capita than the rest of Chicago, and a per capita income rivaled by few other areas in the city, let alone the country. Also not surprisingly, Hyde Park was nearly completely white.

The Great Migration

By the 1940s, what has become known as the Great Migration- a mass exodus (estimated somewhere around one and a quarter million) of African-Americans from Southern states into Northern States- was beginning to change the landscape of many of the North’s largest cities, Chicago (and Hyde Park) included. Promised cheap living for their cheap labor in many of the South Side’s war industry jobs, many of the turn of the century hotels on the outskirts of Hyde Park were turned into little better than tenement housing for the bulging black population.

Seeing the change in tide before them, the white residents of Hyde Park responded in two ways: violence (ranging from protests to riots to physical violence) and restrictive covenants, a legally-enforceable agreement through which landlords promised that they would not sell or rent their properties to “people of color.”

Progress

In 1948, though, things began to change. Possibly encouraged by a Supreme Court ruling (Shelly v Kramer) which made restrictive covenants illegal, a local group of progressive (white) businessmen in the Hyde Park community began to gather together to see if they might come up with a way to stop what so many believed was inevitable: deterioration, crime and white flight. By December 1949, these men had founded the Hyde Park Kenwood Community Conference with 300 charter members who hoped to create an “interracial community of high standards” where the formation of block clubs worked to negate false neighborhood gossip, provide up-to-date notices of building renewals and construction projects and serve as an outlet for multi-racial discussion, fellowship and community. At its height, the clubs covered about 150 blocks of the Hyde Park area. The Community Conference and clubs tracked all of the zoning (and re-zoning) laws of the area, followed- and prevented- the illegal restructuring of apartments into smaller, structurally unsound smaller tenements, and other building and zoning violations. Additionally, the clubs championed “WhistleStop” programs, in which residents were given whistles and then educated that the sound of a whistle was to be responded to as a cry for help.

But where was the University, the largest real estate owner and, arguably, the most powerful force in Hyde Park? After a rebuffing by the Chancellor in 1949, but supported by many of the progressive faculty and staff, the Community Congress functioned without the official support of the University until 1951, when the new Chancellor (Lawrence Kimpton) took control of the University and began plans to start the South East Chicago Commission. Within months, the Commission was churning out crime statistics, working with local police departments and researching urban and government planning of neighborhoods.

By 1952, Julian Levi, a successful businessman and lawyer, had been appointed Executive Director of the Commission, where he served until 1980. It was Levi who took the Commission from a law enforcement type of agency to an urban renewal agency, using (and creating) government grants, funds and support to continue the process of making Hyde Park a community where ethnically- and religiously- diverse people could co-exist and thrive.

So what happened?

In reality, the story continues today. Hyde Park (and neighboring Kenwood) continues to be a place of contradiction, and there is no doubt that there has been a certain amount of back-sliding over the last twenty years. The South East Chicago Commission continues to work, albeit in a very different way, to promote and implement urban renewal in the area, but with much less influence and with less influential financial, political and social support.

The question now becomes whether or not the community of Hyde Park (let alone the rest of the city and country) will once again desire that thing that the original commission hoped to produce: an inter-racial community of high standards. Organized residents, responsive and interactive community living and responsible (local, state and national) government made a very real difference in Hyde Park before, and may be able to again pursue that higher ideal of community living. But that requires that residents desire to live in such a way that they openly share their lives with those around them: those that may or may not look like them and may or may not subscribe to the same beliefs as them.

In many ways, Hyde Park continues to be a "bastion" of progressive thinking, where new concepts on race, education, identity and culture are continually produced and discussed. And yet...thoughts and discussion don't always lead to action: sometimes they do, sometimes they don't. The jury is still out on what will happen, both in Hyde Park and elsewhere.