THE CHICAGO LITERARY CLUB
January 7, 2013
"THE RENAISSANCE HOMBRE"
By
Scott
William Petersen
"THE RENAISSANCE
HOMBRE"
By Scott William Petersen
JANUARY 7, 2013
February 27, 2012 -- A man had a problem with a family of skunks that
lived under his porch. He tried everything
to get rid of them but nothing worked. He went to the local
hardware store and asked the clerk if he had any ideas.
"Put lutefisk and pickled herring under
your porch," the old clerk
said. "That should clear up the problem
pronto."
So the guy went to the market, bought a few pounds of lutefisk and
pickled herring and put it all under the porch. The next morning, the guy
ran downstairs and looked under the porch. The skunks were gone.
But a family of Swedes had moved in. . . . .
I can say this because I'm half Swedish. . . .
February 13, 2012 -- In 1969 I was in Tucumcari, NM. I
have always been interested in Indian artifacts so one
day I took a drive to "look around." Outside of
town, I took the long road of the Chappell Spade Ranch along the
Canadian River. I pulled up to the ranch house where a man was
standing. I asked if there was a place one might find Indian
artifacts and was told "Mr. Griggs" might help but he was out walking.
"Out there" the man pointed. I was
driving my 1964 Ford Falcon Sprint - ragtop. Top
down. So I headed off into the
desert -- driving on a two tire track "road."
I bounced along and found Mr. Griggs about two miles out. I
asked about artifacts and he shrugged. "You just have to look." Big
help he was. He asked if
I'd drive him back to the ranch - so I said "sure" and he
hopped in.
We came to the top of a rise. Below, the two tire track
ruts were full of water from rain the night before. He said "you better gun it or we'll get stuck." So I did. Whoosh! Down the hill. And then I suddenly jammed on the
brakes - skidding and splashing to a stop with water up to my hubcaps. He
said "what the. . ." I got out of the car and about
twenty feet in front of us a big turtle was cooling himself. In the water. In the tire track.
If I'd continued, I would have crushed him. I held up
the turtle to show Mr. Griggs. I set the turtle on the side and got
back in the car. He stared at me. I looked at him somewhat
defensively and said "I didn't want to kill the turtle." He nodded and thought a
moment "You did the right thing. You
want Indian artifacts? Go that way" - he pointed and we peeled off across the
desert in another two tire track "road." And we stopped,
climbed to the top of a butte and found an Indian burial ground. He told
me the story of the Anasazis who had lived
there. I found some neat things - some of which I took.
Today, I have in my office a well-used mano (corn grinding
stone) - one of three I found that day along with a worn metate (the stone on which corn was ground). Every
time I walk in my office - and glance at the mano - I think of the turtle in the tire track . . . . and that very special day.
August 14, 2011 -- When
my daughter Lauren was born - from the day we brought her home from the
hospital (and for years) - I sang to her. Every night
before she went to bed. I would play my guitar and sing "Froggy went a Courtin'"
"This Little Light of Mine" "Trouble in Mind" and a host of
other songs. But I would also lapse into some old songs that we used
to sing in the Gamma Alpha Beta ("GAB") Fraternity at Augustana College. And I would always close the
evening, as Lauren was closing her eyes, with the GAB
"Sweetheart Song" and "Oh Shenendoah"
-- a song that the GAB's sang at a Homecoming event one year (and
won).
When Lauren was married just over three years ago,
I thought long and hard about what song I should have played for the
Daddy/Daughter Dance at the reception. Then it hit me.
And I smiled. Lauren had some general notion about the universe of
songs from which I would select ("Dad, you
are not going to have them play 'Froggy
went a Courtin' are you?"). No. Instead, I picked the one that
I'd closed each evening with -- "Oh Shenendoah."
The music started and we both had tears in our eyes as we danced
to this song that will forever be in our hearts.
By this time, you are probably wondering - perhaps whispering to your
neighbor "Just where is Petersen
going with this?" A joke. A turtle in a
tire track. "Oh
Shenandoah." Interesting . .
. but where is this going?
I have a confession. I am a
blogger. And every Monday and every
Thursday, pretty much without fail, I compose a "post" for my blog --
www.renaissancehombre.com.
The first - and probably obvious - question that you have (and one that I
have asked myself from time to time) is why? Why on earth do you blog? The quick answer is I'm not entirely sure but
I think it serves a purpose. For me and for others. In the "About" section of my blog, I state
the following: "Im Scott
Petersen. My wife Donna tells me that I have an abbondanza of activities and interests and
that I never seem to get bored.
Maybe so. To me, it can be fun and profitable to have varied
interests, to learn and to be active. The
pressure of coming up with something intelligent to talk about twice a week is
challenging. Hence the
name of my blog Renaissance Hombre.
I state that the purpose
of my blog is to share an eclectic aggregation of interesting information and
observations from which I have personal experience (like always
Pawn to Queen 4; worms are best for walleye; a line from Polaris to the ground
is true North; and people who are drowning rarely splash watch their head).
For aspiring renaissance men or women you may want to check out my
blog. I do my best to keep it interesting. I invite readers to share their favorite
meal, quotation, musical interest, hobby, vacation tip, joke (I love good jokes), trivia or anything
else they want to share. "Because thats what Ill be sharing
with you!"
My mother was of Swedish
heritage, my father Danish and when I was growing up we had a small family
business where everyone spoke Spanish.
Today, I use Spanish every day in my work -- hence my adoption of the
"hombre" part of the
title. "Hombre." I have found that having a blog keeps me on
my toes. It keeps my meager brain cells
churning, my creative juices flowing and my writing skills honed. Or at least you can be the judge of that.
The topics that I cover
in my blog are many -- and diverse. I
count fifteen categories. I am a
perspiring magician. . . . make that "aspiring" magician and therefore I
have shared a few really good magic
effects. I talk about education, my
hobby of collecting autographs, I have posted some poems I have had published,
I love cooking so food, wine and recipes are prominent, I find religion a fascinating topic and I enjoy
exploring different aspects of religion.
Then there's travel, jokes, golf, good (and favorite) books, lessons
that I have learned (I had a paper on this subject a few years ago),
conservation and ecology, informational posts, personal posts and finally, I
dip my toes into the waters of editorial comment. And pet peeves. Nothing too radical (though
some might disagree) but editorial nonetheless.
My posts are normally 200
to 300 words long with a few edging over on both sides. I am scrupulously unaffected -- and unswayed -- by recommendations on what I should post. And if my wife suggests I clean the porch
instead of compose a post for Sunday, I can't help myself. My blog comes first. Unless I want to be in very deep trouble . . . .
I want to ask you a
question. What is your earliest
recollection from when you were small? Think
about this. Perhaps when you were two or
three years old? What is your first
inkling of consciousness?
August 16, 2012 -- My granddaughter is ever so special. I sing
to her, read to her, feed her, hold her, talk to her and occasionally change a
diaper. She is seven months old. And I sometimes wonder -- will she
remember anything of these times as
she grows older? When does recall begin to kick in?
I have occasionally posed this
question among friends when conversation stalls - "What is your very first memory when
you were a child? What is the very first spark of cognizance that you remember?" The
answers are very personal. And the question does prompt
some interesting - and varied - responses.
My first three years were
spent in a one bedroom attic at 6036 W. Byron Street in Chicago. I
remember the place. With clarity. And I
remember - vividly - sitting by the lone street-side window looking out. And waving at a little boy ("Georgey")
across the street. This was in the days before "play
groups" so I never saw Georgey up close (or
anyone else for that matter). We never played together. We would
just wave. Across the street. I
wonder if Georgey remembers me. . . .
What is your first memory? What
were the first memories of your parents? Children?
Grandchildren? To me, this is a truly
poignant question that could make an interesting teaching tool or
conversation starter. . . .
Now that post sounds somewhat
benign and touching but let me change gears.
Bicycle gears. To
one of my more "vigorous" editorials.
July
26, 2012 -- I don't mind occasional bicycles on streets. Riding
single file. Obeying traffic laws. Staying out of the way. Bicycle lanes are fine and seem to work. But
the groups of bicyclists who
take up whole lanes of traffic (riding two and three abreast), ignoring
traffic signals, scaring pedestrians out of their wits and essentially creating
havoc with the four wheel and two legged traffic? They are a problem. The pelotons. . . .
Violate traffic laws in my
car? I'm toast. As a pedestrian - I can
be ticketed for jaywalking, for crossing against a red light or for going
around a railroad crossing gate. Yet bicycle riders thumb their
noses at red lights, stop signs and other traffic signals.
Pedestrians wait for them. They
often arrogantly deprive others of the courtesies they expect. I have to
say that this is one of my pet peeves and a pet peeve of a growing
number of others.
Bicycle bans are becoming more
popular -- and I'm hoping that they become even more popular. . . .
I hope there are no bicycle aficionados out there. Or maybe I do. . . .
I don't know if I scored any
points with you on that post, but let me tell you how I do score points. I score
points with -- cooking.
May 6, 2012 -- I made dinner on
Saturday. Donna gave me a wink and a 9-1/2 out of 10. A
great score for "Dancing with the Stars" and an especially superb
score for the Renaissance Hombre. . . .
Simple. Fun.
Delicious. I used the usual La Banderita corn tortillas. I grilled two chicken
breasts -- very plain -- and sliced them thin and marinated the slices in
superb olive oil direct from Italy. I grilled onions (Vidalias
- see post of November 4, 2011) and then laid out the tortillas and laid in the
chicken, grilled onions and garlic cheddar cheese and rolled them up.
Sprinkle with more cheese and bake for 25 minutes at 350 in a pan brushed
with olive oil. I served with fresh sliced mango and for Donna - fresh
sliced avocado (though I am normally partial to guacamole). Some Frontera Grill Tomatillo salsa and black beans on the
side (rice is optional) and -- mercy -- a meal that got me some major
points. Oh - and a Catena cabernet (from Mendoza, Argentina) to top
off the meal. And to up the score, I did the dishes!
All right. I know.
The question you are thinking is "Okay Petersen. You have a blog. Big deal. How popular is it?" Does anyone
read it? The answer is yes but the
numbers vary from day to day. I have 22
subscribers who receive an automatic copy of the newly-minted
"post." And I have about
thirty non-subscribers who also receive
a copy of the post. And then there are
those who "log on" to my website.
Each day, I average around twenty hits on the blog. The fewest I've had is zero. The most was 205 on July 30, 2012, in
response to a post on the banning of video games for anyone under retirement
age. Yes. . .
the post was partially tongue in cheek.
But hey! It was popular. I am actually able to see my statistics so I
know that I have had one reader in Canada -- and one in South Korea. Go figure. . . . . Maybe it's because I am such an inspiration . . .
May
27, 2012 -- One of my favorite stories relates to Napoleon* -- the Grand Emperor
of the French Republic. Napoleon was at a parade of troops outside of
Paris. His Marshalls, his staff and his officers were all present.
As Napoleon was reviewing the troops, a small animal ran from a bush
startling his horse. The horse bucked. Reared up.
And Napoleon fell backward in his saddle, clinging precariously to the
reins. No one moved. Except for a young private who sprinted
from the lines. His rifle clattered to the ground. His hat flew
off. The private grabbed the reins of the Emperor's horse,
unceremoniously shoved Napoleon back into the saddle and snapped to
attention. Napoleon looked around.
At his Marshalls. His generals.
His officers. His staff. And then down at the young private. In
a booming voice, Napoleon said "Thank you. . . Captain."
The young man - obviously
flustered - responded "Of what
regiment, Sir?"
Napoleon laughed. "Of my personal guard."
The story speaks of courage and
the occasional need for immediate action. How often do we "pass
by" those who may need help? Those in trouble? People
who may need a hand? Someone who just needs a kind word? People we know. People we don't
know. When I'm confronted by situations
like this, the story of this courageous young private comes
to mind.
*The source of this story is Billy Sunday, the Man and His Message by William T.
Ellis
Speaking of Billy Sunday, I enjoy posting about
religion. I often find it is easier to
talk about religion with Pakistani cab drivers than it is to talk politics with
Democrats or Republicans. It's frankly more interesting too.
August
19, 2012 -- I take taxis several times a week. And I have concluded that
most Chicago taxi drivers are from Pakistan, India, Nigeria and
Ghana. A smaller number are from Somalia and Ethiopia. And there is a
new crop of young drivers who are from the Transylvania region of Romania. It
is my custom whenever I get in a taxi to never allow it to be "just a
ride." I turn my cab ride into a tutorial. After all . . . . .
why not?
Upon closing the door, I may
ask "how's
business"? That always prompts a response. If I can identify the
driver's name or accent, I chat with the driver in his language
(I can make myself understood in Urdu and Hindi and I can say a few words
in Yoruba - long story). With the Pakistanis and Indians (who are nearly all
Muslim), I start talking religion. When I quote the Quran (I have a copy -
with the Bible - by my bed) and recite the Five Pillars of Islam in Arabic - I
have gotten long looks in the rear view mirror and even an occasional free
ride ("please
good Sir - this ride is on me"). Maybe they're not quite sure. . . .
I share my belief in the
similarities of Islam, Judaism and Christianity. We all come from Abraham and
after all Jews and Christians are Ahl al-Kitab ("People of
the Book") to whom Mohammed generally instructs tolerance (yes, tolerance). Read Surra 5.
Then there is the Quran's acknowledgment
that we are all children of God.
This preamble usually opens the floodgates for response. And I sit back and I listen.
And learn. I will venture that it is politicians and fundamentalists who cause
all the trouble in the world. This brings vigorous agreement on
"politicians" and occasional hesitation on the
"fundamentalist" component. When I observe that each of Islam's 72
different sects believe that they alone have the ear of God (and often hate
each other) -- this usually results in cautious acknowledgment on that point as
well. Upon leaving the cab, I will offer salaam alaikum ("peace be unto you") and
inevitably receive back wa-alaikum as-salaam ("and peace unto you"). Sometimes
we shake hands.
From the Horn of Africa people, I
learn of the sectarian strife and territorial conflicts in Eritrea,
Somalia, Ethiopia and Somaliland. From the Nigerians it is
fascinating to hear of the tribal tensions among Yoruba, Hausa and Igbo
(Ibo). And from the Romanians, I learn of struggles with school and
advancing careers. I like to think that the ride benefits
everyone. Sitting in a taxi is never "just a
ride."
Let me continue this topic of
religion for a moment. One of the points
that is thought provoking to discuss with Muslims is
the messenger who delivered the words of the Quran to Mohammed in 610 A.D.
January
30, 2012 -- There are three archangels in religious tradition:
Michael, Raphael and Gabriel. Of the three, Gabriel is the one who
curiously keeps popping up -- not just in Christianity but in other faiths
as well. Gabriel is a messenger from God. He is an uber messenger. . . . .
In the Jewish tradition,
Gabriel was a holy messenger who in the Old Testament book of Daniel
offers an explanation of Daniel's visions. In Christianity, it is
Gabriel who foretells the birth of John the Baptist and Jesus.
It was Gabriel who visits Mary to deliver the good news of her new
role.
In the Mormon
faith, Gabriel in his earthly life was Noah. Some say, Gabriel
continues to be a divine messenger having visited earth as recently as 1954.
In Islam, it was Gabriel (Jibril) who revealed the Qur'an to Muhammed. And in the Bahai
faith, Gabriel is referenced in their holy texts ("Baha'u'llah's mystical
work Seven
Valleys). With Gabriel's positive and influential involvement in so
many religious traditions, one has to wonder why religious strife focuses
so much on differences. Perhaps
Gabriel, the messenger, is trying to tell us something. . . . . .
Religion is a
fascinating topic. And while I tend to dislike politics and politicians, I will
sometimes dip my toe into those tainted waters.
After you hear my next post, you will know exactly where I stand:
September
11, 2011, I am
an Eagle Scout. I grew up with - and was inculcated with - the Scout
Oath: "On my honor, I will do my
best to do my duty to God and my country and to obey the Scout Law.
To help other people at all times. To keep myself
physically strong, mentally awake and morally straight." The Scout Law added further obligation:
"A Scout is trustworthy,
loyal, helpful, friendly, courteous, kind, obedient, cheerful, thrifty, brave,
clean and reverent." It's interesting that all
of the Eagle Scouts I know continue to try and live their lives
according to these solemn oaths though Donna doesn't always feel I'm obedient when she asks me to take the garbage out or clean
the garage. I'm not real cheerful about that stuff either. . . . When I see the gridlock in
Washington, it seems too bad we don't have more Eagle Scouts (or the
Girl Scout equivalent) running the country. I would wager
that Democratic and Republican Eagle Scouts would
get along a far sight better and work a lot more diligently than the
parade of horrors found in Washington
today. They would sing campfire songs while drinking beer at the
Old Ebbitt Grill, they
would hike to the office with backpacks smiling to all they
meet. And most importantly, they would take seriously - very seriously - their duty to this great country,
their obligation to be thrifty and the promise to "help other people at all times."
So what do you think? I have a feeling that a
post this like probably has an 85% approval rating among you who are
listeners. Maybe 90%?? I mean what's not to like? The point being -- we need integrity in Washington. And we need character. I've been a tutor
in the Chicago Lights Tutoring program at the Fourth Presbyterian Church. Each week, the program provides one-on-one
tutoring for nearly 500 students. Most
of the time is spent on reading and math skills. Sometimes we work on Spanish or science. But I also try and throw in a little bit about
integrity -- and character. Every Wednesday
when I tutor, I give my student a message on the important subject of character.
January
25, 2012 -- When I tutor for the Chicago Lights Tutoring Program www.chicagolights.org ; see posts of
August 8 and 9, 2011), each day I try to give my student a 3" x 5"
card with a quotation on it. Usually the quote relates to
character, integrity, hard work and achievement. I'm partial to the
wisdom of John Wooden (winningest coach in NCAA
history) but there are many great pearls of wisdom on the subject.
"Character
is doing what's right - when no one is looking." J.C. Watts
"Character
is higher than intellect." Ralph
Waldo Emerson
"You can
easily judge the character of a man by how he treats those who can do nothing
for him." James D. Miles
"Nearly
all men can stand adversity. But if you want to test a man's character,
give him power." Abraham Lincoln
"Character
is much easier kept than recovered." Thomas Paine
"The
measure of true character is what a man would do if he knew he would never be
found out." Thomas Babington Macaulay
"Ability
may get you to the top but it takes character to keep you there."
John Wooden
"In each
human heart are a tiger, a pig, an ass and a nightengale.
Diversity of character is due to their unequal activity." Ambrose
Bierce
To me, education is not just about reading and math.
It's also about learning tenacity, hard work, civility and character.
And speaking of character, I have
been (as I'm sure you have been) on the receiving end of demonstrations of
character. For nearly six years I was an
Assistant States Attorney in Cook County.
I spent much of that time in the Felony Trial Division at 26th
& California. I handled my share of
murder cases. And
death penalty cases (on which I was successful). None of the cases were pleasant. All were extremely emotional especially in
dealing with victims' families. A recent
post talks about a vignette from one of those cases. A 23 year old young woman -- Susan Marie -- was
stabbed to death at 5009 South Ellis. It
seems like it happened yesterday . . .
October 28, 2012 -- For five plus years,
I was an Assistant States Attorney - Felony Trial Division in
Chicago. My daughter was born in the middle of
a really nasty two and a half week murder jury trial (for which
I am still called back every three years to testify in parole
hearings against release of the killer). Donna went into labor at about
2:00 a.m. on a Thursday morning. I called my friend and partner in
the case and said "Charlie - Donna's having
the baby. You're gonna have to handle things today." His response "Congrats but be here tomorrow."
The next day, I showed up at the
office with my arms packed with files and boxes of cigars. So I'm in my
office passing out cigars, smiling, yabbering,
guys wandering in and out when suddenly a large chap appeared at my door.
He was wearing overalls, high rubber boots, thick shirt and a hat. He
leaned against the door frame. "Is there a Scott Petersen here"
he asked. We all turned. I raised my hand. "Yeah.
That's me." "You missin'
anything?" he asked. I felt pockets. Jacket.
My checkbook! It's gone. "My checkbook" I
said. He held it up waggling it between two fingers. "I
found it on the street." I quickly dipped into my wallet
for a twenty. "Here" - I said taking the
checkbook. "Thank you. I apprec. . . " "No.
That's okay," he held up his
hand. "I'm with Streets and Sanitation. I want you guys to
know -- we have a lot of good people in Streets and Sanitation." I
then said "My wife just had a baby. Can I offer you some cigars?"
He looked at the open box. "That I
will take." He grabbed a large handful and disappeared.
It's funny how things happen -
and there are moments of intense clarity. Obviously I will never forget
the birth of my daughter (I was there
:) ) but I'll also never forget the integrity
of that stranger. Streets & Sanitation. . . .
My blog has featured true confessions,
jokes, stories and information. 172 posts to be exact.
But one of my most interesting -- based upon significant research -- related
to health. Does everybody here know their blood
type? Listen . . . . .
October
3, 2012 -- Do you know your blood type? You should. Thousands of
years of evolution have split human blood into four basic "types": A,
B, O and AB. Each has a positive (+) and negative (-) (called "RH")
component as well. Roughly 43% of us are type O; 40% type A; 12%
type B; and 5% type AB with interesting geographic, racial and ethnic
differences in blood type and RH distribution.
While there is speculation that blood
type predicts broad personality traits (especially in Japanese
studies), there is strong indication that different blood types have
different vulnerabilities -- and do better with certain diets. A recent
Harvard study (reported in August) confirms that certain blood types are more
prone to heart disease (see http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/health-19257876). Where one blood type does
well on a meat diet, others might actually suffer.
Type O is the oldest blood
type in the world with the most robust digestive system. Type O
needs animal protein for good health. Has trouble with wheat and
gluten. Thrives on vigorous workouts.
Less prone to heart disease. O negative is a
universal donor.
Type A has a more fragile
digestive system which may have trouble tolerating animal protein. This
blood type might do well as a vegetarian. Can be lactose
intolerant and anemic. For this reason, iron and Vitamin B-12
supplements may be helpful.
Type B has difficulty with wheat
and gluten though dairy is usually just fine. Chicken is an apparent
"red flag" which can turn into a serious health issue due to an
agglutinating lectin which can adversely affect the
circulatory system.
Type AB is the new kid on the
block having been around for perhaps 1,000 years. Should avoid red
meat especially smoked and cured
meats as AB shares the low stomach acid of Type A and diminished stomach
acid leaves one more prone to stomach cancer.
An interesting website of author
Dr. Peter D'Adamo with extensive discussion on the
subject can be found at www.dadamo.com.
I try to keep my blog
interesting. And
current. And I do my best to be
encouraging and inspirational. In
conclusion, let me offer one such post.
August
11, 2011 -- I have the aerodynamics of a
sofa. How high can you jump? never resonated with me since the answer
was never one I wished to share (I can
barely get off the ground).
In
the 1900 Olympics, no high jumper could hope to succeed unless he did the
scissors kick to launch himself over the high bar. It was thought no one
would ever jump higher that is until 1920 when the track and field world was stunned by a high jumper who dove over
the bar. This added nearly two feet to the worlds record. It was
thought that no one would ever jump higher that is until 1968 when a young
man from Oregon revolutionized high jumping at the Mexico City Olympics by
going over the bar backwards! Today,
as a high jumper if you cannot master the Fosbury
flop, you may as well take your gym bag and go home.
So
how high can you
jump? What do you do to challenge yourself? Improve yourself?
Motivate yourself and others? What goals do you set? And
reach? I like to think that the sky is the limit. W.N. Murray who
was on the Scottish Himalayan Expedition quoting Goethe said Whatever
you can do or dream you can. . . begin it.
Boldness has genius, power and magic in it.
I'm a
blogger. And I'm proud of it. I can't jump very high but I do try to
motivate myself by coming up with topics to write about. And I try to motivate my readers with interesting
and meaningful posts. Maybe one day my granddaughter will read my brain
droppings. Check out www.renaissancehombre.com. Maybe you will be motivated. Maybe
you will enjoy it. Maybe you will
learn. Maybe you'll smile. Maybe you will "score a few
points." Whatever. Thanks for the visit. And thank you very much for your attention. I wish you a pleasant good evening and a very
Happy New Year!