the raspberry seed in the wisdom tooth….

“That man’s been the raspberry seed in my wisdom tooth for as long as I can remember.” When I think of Michael Moore, that line in “The Music Man” sort of sums up his career, and what many people think of him.

The befuddled looking man, overweight, bespectacled, and wearing a baseball cap is Michael Moore, sort of an everyman with lots of cholesterol. He’s not exactly what you think of when you’re looking for that one person who's going to save America. But, he’s trying. God, he’s trying.

I went to see “Capitalism: A Love Story” last week. In short, the movie’s about how our system of earning and living has been used and abused by an economic upper class that is raping our country and people of their dignity and ability to live a comfortable and fruitful life.

Moore’s style is to ambush unsuspecting targets with a single camera and ask pointed, simple questions to very complex issues. He has this ability to stand in front of his “victims” with this look, not a look of “gotcha” but a look of “huh?”, drives home the utter helplessness we all feel when confronted by things that are clearly unfair, but there’s nothing we can do about it.

His commentary rolls in the background, speaking of the hypocrisy of a system that allows people to be removed from their jobs and homes because of shell games being played by those in power at the banks, industry and the government.

His movies always go to the locked closet, the place where they hide Frieda, the crazy aunt the family’s been trying to hide for years. He opens doors and the vermin coming streaming out. He pulls on the scab of a wound that just won’t heal. Yes, he is the raspberry seed in the wisdom tooth of America.

Many people look at Michael Moore as a left-winger who’s out to destroy America with some sort of socialist agenda. If he looked differently, was taller, thinner, and could see better, we might see something else, a Jimmy Stewart sort of fellow determined to see the light and find the answer the rest of us can’t or won’t acknowledge.

So, you go Michael Moore. Keep knocking on those doors that are answered by servants and guards. Keep digging the dirt. Keep asking the questions. Keep doing the job that our newspapers and electronic media long ago stopped doing.

And, as long as you do, there’ll be at least one seat in the theater that is occupied.

when pumpkins party…..

This pumpkin party got out of hand way too early.

chew, chew, chew on this….

For years, our transportation system evolved and revolved around me.  I want to be there.  I want to drive my car.  And, I want to be there when I want to be there, not a minute before and not a minute after.

On Tuesday, I spent an hour and forty-five minutes going from suburban Chicago to downtown, maybe 25 minutes.  As I’m sitting there, in traffic, watching train after train go by me, I kept thinking “Why am I not on that train?”

As I got to my destination I circled and circled and circled, trying to find a parking spot.  Finally, one opened up.  Now, as I’m digging in my pockets for change, I have to figure out how much time and how much money I’ll need.  They’ve got these meters that print out a receipt you put on your dash to show you’ve paid.  But, you have to guess right, because you just can’t add money to the meter. 

I went to my stop, the Chinese Consulate.  I waited and waited and waited for my turn.  It’s coming close to when my meter time would run out.  But, if I leave, I’ll have to wait and wait and wait some more.  So, I risk it and leave about 10 minutes late.  As I get to my car, I notice a lovely parting gift from the City of Chicago.

I might be a slow learner, but this convenience of a car isn’t so convenient.  Take the train.  Save some time.  Save some money.

dead end……

When I was in high school, there were a lot of times when the bullies would come up to me and let me know I was in trouble if I didn’t do this or that.    They always made it a little uncomfortable, but never to the point where I felt endangered.

After seeing this story about a 16 year-old Chicago boy being bludgeoned to death by alleged gang members for reportedly refusing to join a gang, I’ve got to wonder what’s going on in the world that I don’t understand.

As a parent, I would never advise my child get into a gang, because it leads to a dead end life.  But now, I might have to rethink that position.  Because, in this particular case, not joining a gang resulted in dead, not dead end.

Gang’s have always been about “turf”, about owning something when you didn’t own anything, about having status when you had none, about having safety when chaos was all around you.  But, they were always somewhere else.  Not anymore.

I used to feel insulated and isolated from gangs, living in my town of 12,000 people.  Now, I see the occasional gang writing on walls, although our city is quick to clean this stuff up.  I see it in the newspaper, with major drug busts happening in small towns, with tentacles reaching from all points of the continent.

The solution to this problem doesn’t lie in law and order, although that is an element of it; it lies in economic and social opportunity, where one of the choices is prosperity.  It lies in education, not ignorance.  It lies in making available all of the opportunities that most of us have.

We need to develop a culture of success in areas where the poverty is the highest.  We need to build the best schools with safety and security ensured when the student walks to and from the building and in the building.  We need to educate and offer opportunity.  We need to be tough, and vigilant.  In short, we need to be affirmative. 

The cost of developing a gang member, or career criminal, is way more expensive than developing a contributing member of society.  Gangsters don’t pay taxes.  They don’t create jobs, unless you’re thinking of prison jobs.   Gangsters don’t cure illnesses.  Gangsters don’t develop solutions to our energy problems.  Gangsters don’t put anything on the positive side of the ledger.  They could.   

There are examples of countries who have ignored the problem to their demise.  Somalia is ruled by gangs.  Mexico’s gangs are better armed than their military.  You might argue the Taliban is a gang in Afghanistan. 

This is no longer an inner city problem.  We can no longer think this is something “they” have to solve.  It’s our problem.  It’s time we deal with it.    

good design….

Before I start a project, I ask myself a lot of questions.  The biggest question is why.  Why should I make this thing?  Why would somebody want this thing?  What function does it serve?  What function does it replace?  Can I make it affordable?  How will it improve the life of the person who buys it?  And, will it be good enough?  That’s a lot of questions.

Below is a bed frame/foundation we’ve just introduced.  It’s simple, but it’s beautiful in my mind. 

The objective in making this was to maximize storage opportunities in existing space.  With storage room at a premium, how do we find more?  Instead of adding a closet, we thought we’d try another way.

Some of the greatest users of space in any house are beds.  They have these box springs that bring the bed off the ground to a height that is comfortable to the user.  Box springs really serve no purpose other than that, except to maybe knock a picture off the wall when you move it in.

In identifying this opportunity, we needed to find out how to maximize it.  We could make a very expensive thing that would have drawers or levers or something cool.  But, in study, we found that most people have bed skirts, or could have bed skirts that would cover up whatever we did.  So, vanity needed to take a back seat to utility.

So, we came up with this, this simple frame with birch slats, with simple storage boxes, that can be moved in and out.  And, with it all covered up with your bed skirt, the utility screams at you.  Nothing fancy, nothing complex, just storage.  And, at a retail price of $129 for a twin size bed foundation with two boxes, it’s affordable.

my window to the world…..

In 1963, my parents bought a set of World Book Encyclopedias.  At the time, it was incredible investment on the part of my parents.   All of the information from the world was held in these books, at least that’s what it seemed to me.

I would spend hour upon hour paging through these, tripping over oddities while looking for information, sometimes for research, sometimes for pleasure, but always sometimes.  Eventually, as I paged through these books, year after year, I got to know a lot of stuff. 

The World Book was a way to find things, mostly accidentally.  Things got to be interesting, not because I wanted them to be, but because they were.  I found information because it was there, not because I searched for it.  And, the more I traveled through the pages, the more curious I got.

The internet has replaced encyclopedias for the most part.  While I love scanning and getting information, it’s different than sitting down with a book.  If you saw it in World Book, it was knowledge.

we are family…..

Yesterday, September 6, we had a renewal of the Erdman Family Reunion. It's been over a decade since we all got together. I don't know if there'll ever be another one, but I'm glad this one happened.

Nearly 100 aunts, uncles, nieces, cousins and more showed up at the Doug (brother) and Tisha Erdman residence for over six hours of talking and eating and talking some more. Eighty-seven years separated the oldest to the youngest.

Some of my relatives came armed with pictures and all came with memories, memories we shared over and over. My cousin John came with a 1914 Model T. Nancy came on a Harley. How cool is that!

Doug and Tisha's residence has a large pond (some might call it a lake) with an island cottage house in the middle. Pontoon boat rides were given for much of the late afternoon to the island. After while, I was sure this was going to be as popular as Alcatraz.

Pictures were taken of each branch of the family tree. Then there were the cousins, and then the children of the cousins. It was interesting to see how the generations were moving on, how we who were the children, were now the parents.

Typically, we don't all see each other except to pay our respects to one of us who has died. This was different. We were there to celebrate each other, our lives and our heritage.

People came from all over, many flying in, knowing this event was special. My daughter, Cortney, flew in from Arlington, Virginia. She was not alone.

My aunt Ruth and Uncle Marvin organized this event. Aunt Ruth put together a sort of family history from the seed of this event, my grandparents, Louis and Hattie Erdman. While I don't think the Pulitzer committee will be calling soon, this publication will find its place in my most valued possessions.

Thank you Doug, Tisha, Uncle Marvin, Aunt Ruth, and all who thought it was important enough to be part of this event. It made for one memorable day.