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those of the author and do not
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Baseball, Hogs,
Politics & Rashes
By Susan Olling
This may be a bit of a meandering installment. But it’s not a bad
thing to put observations in writing.
Mr. History is very happy. The Cubs won the World Series.
We watched the standings all season. I, quite frankly, was
impressed each Sunday to see the North Side team’s record: the
best in baseball. Mr. History can’t carry a tune, but he sings
the “Go Cubs Go” ditty quite well, thank you. I wanted to
purchase the local paper to get their take on this momentous event but
realized that the Post had gone to bed before the game was over.
The Chicago Tribune’s web site had some wonderful articles. I
found another article that included Thursday morning’s front pages from
numerous newspapers, even some from Ohio. Unfortunately, only one
of the Ohio newspapers included a picture of celebrating Cubs.
Tsk, tsk.
The local MLB franchise made its usual early exit. We were out of
town when they played their last game in the tournament. The game
ended after our little subway system’s bedtime. Evidently, fans
who went to the game via Metro had to find other ways to get home.
There’s been an interesting phenomenon this election cycle: no bumper
stickers on vehicles and very few signs in yards. For either
presidential candidate. In this part of the greater D.C.
environs, with its unashamedly liberal, Democratic Party leaning
voters, advertising support during presidential elections via vehicles
and yards should be a given. Not so this year. In the real
world, say Gettysburg, PA, for example, we saw lots of yard signs,
overwhelmingly for the Republican ticket. We were on the Eastern
Shore and in southeastern Virginia a few weeks ago. Many more
signs in favor of the Republican ticket were seen there, too.
There was a story on the local news about “election stress”
recently. Evidently, friendships have been broken because of
strongly-held, differing opinions during this election cycle.
Earlier in the year, I wrote an installment about Mr. History and his
Harley. I’d ride with him after six months of ownership.
Six months was up in August. Well, on Labor Day, after purchasing
a helmet, I took a ride. What I thought would be a simple ride in
town included getting on I-370. This is one of the Free State’s
shortest interstates, but it was long enough. After we got home,
I surprised Mr. History by saying the ride had been “fun”. It
was. I just have to remember to sit back on the seat.
Pets and bikes have been banned in Arlington National Cemetery as of
the end of October. Evidently, funeral services were being
disrupted. It’s sad that this policy had to be put into
place. C’mon folks, it’s a cemetery. There are other, more
appropriate, places for your dogs to play. The paths aren’t bike
paths, either. There are exceptions: service dogs and K-9s and
bicycle riders who are going to a specific gravesite.
Potential bike riders, please refer to this link:
http://www.arlingtoncemetery.mil/Visit/Getting-Here/Getting-Around/Bicycle-Use-Policy.
I thought that when you walked into a cemetery, the appropriate
behavior kicked in. Guess I was wrong.
I’m allergic to children. Well, maybe not a rash or anaphylaxis,
but close. However, encounters with our little neighbor over the
past twenty-one months seem to have enhanced my immune system to
munchkins. Oliver’s quite a smart kid for his age. One day,
his mother heard something moving and then silence. She found
this little genius had discovered how to get to a box of donuts: move a
chair and climb. He was quite enjoying his donut. He likes
to drive. Well, he sits in the driver’s seat with either mom or
dad in the passenger’s seat while the car’s sitting in the
driveway. Engine off, and the doors closed. His mom
was surprised to find the AC working at hurricane-type levels and the
radio reprogrammed on a couple of mornings when she left for
work. He likes the emergency blinkers and fortunately, hasn’t
found the horn on either of their vehicles. He did ask his dad
for the keys. When Oliver discovered the fun of the outdoors, he
took off down our driveway one evening. His mom called to him,
and he continued out to the street. Then, she used his first and
middle names. I think we all remember that when mom used
your first and middle names, you stopped what you were doing. Not
Oliver. That little guy turned and giggled at her.
Recently, there was a reunion for little ones who had spent time in the
hospital’s NICU at the center where we volunteer. It was the
invasion of the munchkin horde. Strollers everywhere. But
not a rash or other indication of an allergic reaction occurred to this
volunteer.
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