November 27, 1990

On By scottpetersenIn Air Force OneLeave a comment

[A repeat from December 6, 2018] I used to travel to Monterrey Mexico for business.  One such occasion was November 27, 1990.  My American Airlines flight landed at Monterrey International Airport a little after noon.  The day was sunny and beautiful.  As we taxied in to the terminal, I looked out the window and thought — oh my goodness – what is that sitting on the tarmac?  It was AIR FORCE ONE. 

As we began to debark, I was greeted by my dear friend Antonio who excitedly announced that the Presidents of the United States and Mexico — George H.W. Bush and Carlos Salinas – would soon be arriving for the departure of President Bush on Air Force One.  We walked out to the parking lot and – off in the distance – we saw the pulsing of Mars lights.  And a long parade of serious-looking cars.  It looked like we were in the right place – at the right time.  We hiked out to the narrow entry to the airport where we knew the cars would pass.  And we stood – alone.  Not a soul was around us.  Just Antonio.  And me.  

The first vehicles to pass – police cars and lorries – slowed to a crawl as they rounded our corner.  Just a few feet away.  And then we saw the magnificent – huge – black limo which chauffeured the Presidents of Mexico.  And the United States of America.  Antonio and I stood at attention.  And waved.   From behind the large window in the back seat, a hand pressed against the window.  And waved – enthusiastically – back to us.  Antonio was sure it was Carlos Salinas waving to him.  But I’m pretty sure it was George H.W. Bush.  Waving to me. . . . . 🙂 

I’ve Been Working on the Railroad

On By scottpetersenIn Rock Island Railroad1 Comment

[A summer repeat from May 15, 2014]

In 1845, the Chicago Rock Island Railroad began with a charter penned in the City of Rock Island, Illinois. For 130 years, the Rock Island Line hummed and drummed across the landscape of America. Until 1975 when a federal judge in Chicago ordered the famed railroad into bankruptcy. On December 10, 1977, a one day auction was held in the old LaSalle Street Station in Chicago. Tables, chairs, paintings, rolling stock and office supplies were sold off from the old railroad. There were also several hundred “tote” boxes full of archives of the railroad. All were filthy dirty and all were sealed. Any bid was on the contents. Sight unseen. The local news touted that perhaps the boxes contained a letter of Abraham Lincoln or Stephen Douglas – both of whom worked for the railroad. I was drawn – like a moth to flame – and I bought 45 boxes of “stuff” at $3.50 a box. I crammed the boxes into the trunk and interior of our Plymouth Valiant. And drove home. Donna thought I was nuts. Until I opened the boxes. . . .

There were hundreds of letters of U.S. Congressmen, Senators, Vice Presidents of the U.S., members of the U.S. Supreme Court, Chicago mayors. There were Aldermen like “Bathhouse John” Coughlin and “Hinky Dink” Kenna. Original letters of Clarence Darrow. It was a trove of major value. And I ended up selling most of the material to the University of Iowa. For many times what I paid for it. It was then I went on a three year quest – to acquire the rest of the defunct railroad’s archives.

After scores (hundreds?) of phone calls over three years, the squeaky wheel got the oil. A gusher. I was told the rest of the Rock Island Railroad archives were housed in a 10 story, 100,000 square foot building at Polk & LaSalle. No one had been in the building for several  years. “I’ll buy it” I said. And did. I bought the entire contents of the building for $500. They handed me the keys and it was mine. The only hitch — I had to get it out in 4 weeks. Within a few hours, I had the contents sold – to the Universities of Iowa and Oklahoma (Norman). Iowa had first choice and Oklahoma got the remainder. I walked alone through the 10 floors. File cabinets. Boxes of files. Empty desks. Coffee cups ringed with dried coffee. A mausoleum. Over the next few weeks, I orchestrated eight 48 foot over-the-road tractor trailers. Loading up the goodies. I looked back, walked out and locked the door.

I still have a few things from the RI. A ceremonial spike. A slice of track. Oh – and yes – a few old letters. In 1998, I delivered a paper to the Chicago Literary Club. Telling the whole story. It’s online at http://chilit.org  The Rock Island Line. Was a mighty fine line. And it was sure good to me.

I Like Your House

On By scottpetersenIn I like your house1 Comment

Forty years ago, Donna and I moved onto a new street, into a new house.  The homes in the area were well-maintained.  The neighbors were nice.  Our place was commodious. And we settled in.

At the end of the street, there was a house. That I really liked.  Half moon, third acre lot with privacy and space. One day while out walking, I saw the owner — Mr. Weiss. I happened to mention that I really liked his house.  And that if he ever wanted to sell — to give me a call.  I pointed at my place across the street and down the block.  We chatted and parted.

I never really thought much about this for a year or so.  We’d see Mr. Weiss or his family.  Wave.  Smile.  And drive on.   Then. . . . . (cue the trumpets) it happened.  I got a call from Mr. Weiss who said that he and his wife were thinking of moving.  And he asked if I was “serious” about my interest in his house.  I probably said something like “duhhhh – let me talk to Donna.”  And I did.   And I called him back and said “yes.”

The following weekend, we met with Mr. & Mrs. Weiss in their back yard and talked. We moved inside and talked some more.  And after discussing the matter with Donna – we made an offer, they said “yes” and – here we are. Interestingly our address – 1938 – is the year the house was built. . . . .

Reach, Throw, Row, Go!

On By scottpetersenIn Reach throw row goLeave a comment

In my freshman year of college, I got a job at the Moline YMCA – as a lifeguard for the indoor pool. There was hardly ever anyone there – but they needed a lifeguard and so I took afternoon hours. After class. I was hired as a lifeguard because I had Lifesaving Merit Badge and I had also passed the American Red Cross Lifeguard certification. In these happy days of spring and advancing summer, it’s good to know a few things – about saving lives. . . . .

The one mantra that I learned early and often was “Reach, Throw, Row, Go!” Trying to save someone from drowning does not always require diving into the water. If the person is 3 feet away, reach for them – with your hand or a stick or rope. And pull them to safety. Or throw a ring buoy (throw it behind them so you can pull it forward – and snag the person). If the person is far from shore in a lake or river. Choppy water. And you have a rowboat, then hop in the boat – and get out there. Finally – if all other options are exhausted – GO! Jump in the water and swim out. So you don’t get pulled under by flailing arms, go under the water, turn the person around, bump them up to the surface with your hip – and toss an arm over their chest and start moving. Usually the flailing stops. If you Go, ya gotta be careful. A drowning person can grab on to you putting your life at risk. The Red Cross does not encourage the “Go” unless there is no other option.

People who are drowning will have their head down. Or mouth back. Body vertical. Legs not moving. Arms may be flailing but the head my be under water. Struggling to get back up. Watch their head.

Once on shore, if a person is unconscious, there is precious little time. Begin with some quick mouth to mouth resuscitation – to get air into lungs. This may prompt vomiting. If there is no pulse – or a weak one – begin CPR. To learn more – go to https://www.redcross.org/take-a-class/lifeguarding/lifeguard-training/lifeguard-certification

In short – keep watch. And always be ready. . . . .

So this guy

On By scottpetersenIn So this guyLeave a comment

[A repeat from September 5, 2019] So on Monday morning, this guy goes to work with a nasty-looking black eye.

“What happened to you?” said his friend.

“Geeesh. . . I was in Church yesterday. When we all stood up to sing a hymn, this old woman in front of me stood up. She was wearing a huge billowy dress and the back of the dress was stuck in her belt and in her rear end. So I reached forward and pulled it out.  With that, she turned around and smacked me.”

“Gee that’s too bad,” said the friend. “You try and do a good deed and look what happens.”

The next Monday the same guy came to work – this time with the other eye all blackened.   His friend saw him and said “Wow! What happened to you?”

Guy said “So yesterday we go to Church. And we sit behind this same woman. We all stood up to sing a hymn and – just like last week – her big billowy dress was caught up in her belt and in her rear end. The guy next to me reached over and pulled it out. But I knew she didn’t like that so I just leaned forward and tucked it all back in. . . . . . “

Torture

On By scottpetersenIn TortureLeave a comment

[A repeat from May 10, 2018] The current tsk tsking by some on whether to approve Gina Haspel as Director of the CIA reminds me of my post of August 7, 2014, which reflected on “Torture.”  Let’s say your spouse, your two daughters, your son and your four grandchildren have been kidnapped by [insert your choice of “Bad Guys“]. Your family has been beaten and abused.  Your daughters raped.  A grandchild butchered.  The rest are stuffed into an air-locked room. The air runs out in 12 hours. 11:59:59. 11:59:58.

One of the bad guys has been captured and knows where the air-locked room is. It’s 30 minutes away. Somewhere. The bad guy is seated in front of you. Tied to a chair. And when you ask him where the room is – he smirks and says %&#*x!.  “Gimme water.”  And he demands some food.

Now there are some who would shrug and go get a pitcher of water and a ham and cheese sandwich for the guy. “Not ham – lamb — you idiot.  And don’t forget the chips.  And Oreos.”  But I’m sure that some of us, given a scenario that is this close to home, might narrow their eyes. And think how can I get this information?  I must save my family.  I heard Mr. Obama state casually that America had “tortured some folks” and that it’s “wrong.”  I wonder if confronted by the above situation, Mr. Obama might react differently. 

I’m not here to posit a moral judgment either way.  But simply to raise the question.  What would you do if your entire family had 12 hours to live?  How far would you go?  If you had the chance to save them.  Or save someone else’s family?  Using “enhanced interrogation.”  What if you had the chance to save 3,300 people from being incinerated?  A hundred thousand.   It is a tough question until it walks in your door.  And sits down at the table in front of you.  Blood on his hands.  Grins.  And spits at you.  What would YOU do?  The clock is ticking. . . . .   

English Leather

On By scottpetersenIn After shave lotionLeave a comment

Do guys use after shave lotion anymore? When I was in high school and college, English Leather and Canoe were the “go to” after shaves (whether or not one shaved). I would slather it on – going through a bottle or two a week – whenever I’d go out with a girl. I thought it made me ummm. . . desirable. Instead – looking back on it – I have to wonder how they could stand the stench. At a dance or party – the competing smells of English Leather, Canoe, Skin Bracer and Old Spice took priority over everything else.

Today – I will occasionally detect a whiff of perfume from some (usually younger) lass – but I don’t recall having sniffed a men’s after shave in years. Maybe it’s because the old schnozzola is losing its sense. Or maybe that sense of recall? Either way, times and tastes change. If I were to go out today – and look for an after shave, it would probably have the scent of barbecue sauce or chocolate chip cookies.

As to English Leather and Canoe – perhaps they could be useful in dealing with the troubling smells left by our former and current Presidents. . . . .

Little Feet

On By scottpetersenIn Little Feet1 Comment

[A valuable spring repeat from November 26, 2017]  When I was about 10 years old, I pestered my father to let me drive the family car.  Sooooo. . . . one Sunday, my dad let me drive home from Church.  Not all the way – but the last mile or so — on a road that was pretty vacant and ran in part along a corn field. I’d sit there peering over the steering wheel – my father with one hand on the wheel, one hand on the ignition and one hand on the gear shift.  From then on, I was the “Chuber” driver (“CHurch UBER“) on Sundays.  

Sometimes, my dad would take me to an empty parking lot and let me drive.  Round and round.  So I “learned” to drive at a pretty early age. When Lauren was about 12, I let her “drive” on occasional Saturday afternoons in our Church parking lot.  

My father had a lot of wisdom to impart to me in my formative years (which – Donna comments – are still in progress).  My dad always told me when driving to keep my “eyes moving.”  Watching.  Left.  Right.  Check the mirrors.  And he told me to always watch for “little feet.”  As I drive along a street, I was told to glance forward — under the cars parked along the street.  Why?  Because you can see if there are little feet — on the other side — below the car.  And you can slow down.  It’s easy to see an adult standing by a car.  But there’s no way to see a child unless you see the “little feet” under the car you are approaching. 

I’m always watching for “little feet.”  Try it next time you’re driving.  Keep an eye out for little feet. . . . .

Empathy

On By scottpetersenIn Cleveland Clinic, EmpathyLeave a comment

Could a greater miracle take place than for us to look through each other’s eyes for an instant?   — Henry David Thoreau 

[This is a repeat from April 14, 2018. The world needs a message like this. You will not smile. But you will think] The Cleveland Clinic is known as one of the great medical institutions in America and probably the world.  Two years ago, the Cleveland Clinic produced a powerful YouTube video on empathy.  I watched it for the first time in early March.  And I’ve watched it several times since.  

As I walk from the train station to my office, I’m sure I pass a thousand people.  Probably more.  Each one walks in his/her own world.  With their own thoughts.  Dealing with their own issues.   Health.  Fears.  Demons.  It is important to realize that each one of us has a story.  Each one of us lives with the cards that are dealt in the lottery of birth.  And the life that is thus given.    

Do me a favor – and devote 4-1/2 minutes to this video.   It’s hard to watch this video and not feel a sense of empathy for the human condition.  A sense of – that could be me.   You may want to watch it again. . . .   

How Can You Eat that Stuff?

On By scottpetersenIn Uncategorized1 Comment

[A repeat from August 3, 2017] De gustibus non est disputandum is a favorite phrase of mine (I know – “get a life RH“). It means “in matters of taste, there can be no disputes.”  We all have different tastes – in food, activities, temperature, friends, work, politics and other things.  Your “taste” in food may be way out of my wheelhouse but that doesn’t make it wrong.  Or right.  It’s just your taste.  

I love spaghetti carbonara with lean bacon, pancetta and peas.  I crave avocados (see 8/20/13) and smoked salmon with mustard.  You may hate the stuff (you poor soul) but – hey brother – de gustibus non est disputandum.  

I know a lot of folks swear by soft shell crabs.  But what is tasty about chewing on shards of broken plastic?   I’m not a fan of corned beef and cabbage.  I’ve never ordered it and on occasions when it has been served to me, I will nibble a piece of cabbage and bury the rest under a roll.  And pat my stomach “delicious!”   Ribs?  I mean what’s the point?  

I’m not afraid to try new things.  I’ve eaten worms, bugs, brains, innards, gizzards and goat tongue – often in business settings.  But when given the choice?  I’ll tee up something I like.  Or tolerate.  What’s your most unfavorite foods?