A couple weeks ago, I wrote here about the cousin I was named after, I.J. Wagner, who was one of the early ad men doing singing commercials for radio.  And I mentioned how his style was to use repetition (almost to annoyance) so that people would remember the name -- and also wrote about how he gave Studs Terkel his start.

There was something I left out though, which was what Studs himself wrote in a couple of his memoirs -- but I couldn't track it down, so I couldn't include it.  But I just now came across at least one of the two passages I recall reading.

This was from one of Studs Tekel's memoirs, Touch and Go, where he writes on page 116 about his beginnings in radio in 1944.  I've added this into the earlier article, so the tale is now more complete.  He says --

"By this time at Meyerhoff [an ad agency in Chicago], I'm working on the Wrigley account, under the wing of I.J. Wagner, the inventor of the singing commercial.  He liked me and suggested I do a sports show, The Atlas Prager Sports Reel.  Atlas Prager was a local beer, out-fit-controlled.  The show was on every night at 6:00.  The announcer would say, 'Atlas Prager got it, Atlas Prager get it!'  Wagner deliberately made it irritating so you'd remember the name."

Then later in the book, Studs adds, "Eventually, Wagner said, 'I'm moving to a new agency, Oleon and Bronner, and I want you to come with me.  What would you like to do?"

So, when I say that Iz liked repetition and that he really did give Studs Terkel his start, it's not just family lore, but he writes it himself.

​The other day, when writing about the upcoming Beatles documentary from director Peter Jackson, I mentioned guys I knew from Northwestern who were major Beatles mavens – Wally Podrazik and Harry Castleman.  (I’ve mentioned Wally a few times here, as curator of the Museum of Broadcast Communication in Chicago, and teaching media and TV history at the University of Illinois, Chicago.)  Harry is a lawyer in Boston, specializing in business, real estate, probate, and intellectual property law (for those taking notes about all this). 
 
Together, though, they’ve written four books on the history of television, and three on the Beatles.  Which is why I brought them up, needless to say.  And they periodically have done lectures together over the decades – the past year over Zoom.
 
Interestingly, I was mentioning all this to a friend over the weekend, and she said that she’d actually just “attended” a lecture by them the week before on the Beatles, about the band’s manager Brian Epstein.  And earlier, she’d done one of their webinars on TV.  And was surprised to learn that I actually knew them.  And had since college.
 
As a bonus specifically for those who are lifelong Beatles fans and are interested in such things, I thought I'd embed their webinar on the Beatles and Brian Epstein, which got posted online after the fact.  This, and the other webinar my friend "attended" were done for Moment Magazine.
 
And to give full credit, I didn’t come up with the title of this piece, but it’s in their joint biography about becoming friends at Northwestern. 
 
(We all worked at the radio station there, WNUR.  I think Wally was the Program Director.)

In the screen shot below, Wally is the fairly formal and meticulous one.  Harry is the one who is...well, not.  You figure out which is which.
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A few days ago, my pal Mark Evanier wrote a story that centered around an odd candy bar he’d never heard of before called the Idaho Spud.  That reminded me of my own tale about an odd candy bar most people have never heard of.
 
I’ll get around that the candy bar, but it requires some background, which is actually more interesting than the tale of the candy bar.  Though that does have its charm.
 
It begins with my cousin, I.J. Wagner.  Isadore James Wagner, who was probably a second cousin on my dad’s side, and much older than me, and who had passed away before I was born.  In fact, I was named after him – the middle name James part – as in Robert James Elisberg.  And as it happens, ee was a professional writer, something I’ve always been pleased about, which is the reason I use my middle initial when I write, as Robert J. Elisberg.
 
Iz (as he was known) worked in advertising, and Chicago was always one of the major centers.  He was considered one of the first to write jingles in the early days of radio, so perhaps you have him to blame – or appreciate, if there are any you like.  His most famous was used for decades, for Pabst Blue Ribbon Beer, and many people still can sing it, to the tune of “10 Little Indians.”
 
What’ll you have?
Pabst Blue Ribbon.
What’ll you have?
Pabst Blue Ribbon.
What’ll you have?
Pabst Blue Ribbon.
Pabst Blue Ribbon Beer.
 
And even though Pabst doesn’t use the jingle any more, they still often use the “What’ll you have?” ad line.
 
A long while back, I got into a conversation with a fellow WGA member, David P. Lewis, on what was then the Writers Guild BBS -- an early version of today's chat rooms.  David was an older writer who had begun his career writing advertising in Chicago.  (Among his many credits, he co-wrote a very good episode of Columbo, “Playback,” with Oskar Werner, whose character runs a tech company and kills his mother-in-law.)  I asked David if knew Iz, and he said no because that was slightly before his time, but added that he did know of Iz and even worked at the agency where Iz had worked.  And told a story about overlapping with him.  One of the ads that Iz had written for the agency (and one I knew of through family lore) was for what had been at the time a very-popular brand of coffee, Thomas J. Webb, which was sold for decades, at least in the Midwest, even when I was a kid.  For the ad, you heard the very whiney voice of a woman calling out, “Mortimerrrrr!  As long as you’re up – get me some Thomas J. Webb Coffeeeeeee!!!”  And when David started at the agency and found out that that had been one of their clients, he (being, as he put it, a know-it-all young kid) told the manager how annoying he found the ad and hated it.  The manager excused himself, came back with their ad-rate book, and showed David how incredibly successful the ad campaign was.  David said he learned then that repetition and annoying could actually be effective in advertising.
 
Iz had another claim to fame.  One day I was reading a newspaper article, saw things of note and ran to the room where my mother was.  “I just read this interview with Studs Terkel, and he says that he got his start because of ‘that adman, I.J. Wagner.’”  I was expecting her to be as surprised and excited as I was.  But my mother was surprisingly nonchalant that this legend owed his career to our cousin.  But that’s because it turned out she knew.  “Oh, sure,” she answered, “They were very close.  When Iz died, Studs spoke at his funeral.”  Since then, I’ve seen Studs Terkel give credit in his memoirs for to his first jobs in radio because I.J. Wagner liked him and kept hiring him for shows his clients were sponsoring.

In fact, in one of Studs Tekel's memoirs, Touch and Go, he writes on page 116 about his beginnings in radio in 1944.  

"By this time at Meyerhoff [an ad agency in Chicago], I'm working on the Wrigley account, under the wing of I.J. Wagner, the inventor of the singing commercial.  He liked me and suggested I do a sports show, The Atlas Prager Sports Reel.  Atlas Prager was a local beer, out-fit-controlled.  The show was on every night at 6:00.  The announcer would say, 'Atlas Prager got it, Atlas Prager get it!'  Wagner deliberately made it irritating so you'd remember the name."

Then later in the book, Studs adds, "Evenutally, Wagner said, 'I'm moving to a new agency, Oleon and Bronner, and I want you to come with me.  What would you like to do?"

So, when I say that Studs Terkel really got his start by Iz, it's not just family lore, but he writes it himself.

Anyway, years passed, and I was working a summer job for the Ravinia Music Festival. I had reason to speak briefly to Studs, when he called the office. And I was finally able to tell him about Iz Wagner. He was gracious, charming and Studs. It remains one of my happy memories.
 
I love old radio, and have a very good book on it, The Big Broadcast: 1920-1950, which is basically an encyclopedia of all the national radio shows during that era.  The authors also include sections on specific topics, one of which is Commercials.  They write at length about the use of sponsored shows and ads during that period, and then include about 25 jingles and ad lines from the most famous.  Two of them are by Iz.  One is, of course, Pabst Blue Ribbon Beer, and the other is for an old candy bar, Whiz Candy.
 
(See, I told you I would eventually get around to it!)
 
Keeping in mind Iz’s love of repetition, it went –
 
ANNOUNCER:  Wh-iiiiiiii-zzzz!  The best nickel candy there izzzzzzzz!
VOICE:  You can say that again!
ANNOUNCER:  All right, I will.  Wh-iiiiiiii-zzzz!  The best nickel candy there izzzzzzzz!
 
(Though I’m sure it was totally pure chance, because the point is that it rhymes with “Whiz,” I like that the ad had “iz” in it…)
 
Even before reading it in the book, I knew about Whiz candy, since it too was part of family lore growing up.  Mind you, I’d never had a Whiz candy.  I’d never even seen one or heard of it anywhere, other than the family tales of Iz writing the ad.  It was before my time.  But clearly Whiz was a popular enough candy bar (sorry, nickel candy bar…) to make it into the book.
 
Anyway, when I was in college at the beloved Northwestern, I sometimes liked to get the Sunday Chicago Sun-Times.  I think there was a newspaper box near my dorm where I’d pick it up.  But one day they were out – or something.  But instead, I decided to walk into downtown Evanston and pick up a copy at a nearby drugstore.
 
I wandered over, got the Sunday paper, walked over to the counter – and got ready to pay when, there, among all the other candy bars in the display, there was…a Whiz candy bar!!!  It was no longer a nickel, but so what.  I have absolutely no idea why it was there – I had never seen a Whiz candy bar before…or since.  I have this fantasy tale that it had been sitting there since 1937, but obviously reality has its own explanation.  One that I’ve never figured out.  But whatever the reason, there was a Whiz candy bar there.  And, yes, of course, I got one.  And, of course, I ate it immediately on my walk back to the dorm, not waiting until I returned.  I was much too intrigued by how -- and what -- it was.
 
At this point, many decades later, I can’t tell you exactly what kind of candy the Whiz bar was, but my recollection is that it was sort of a hard marshmallow filling (not quite a nougat) and chocolate covered.  Perhaps with peanuts.  Marshmallow filling is not my favorite, though hard marshmallow gave it a better texture and there was some flavoring, and I liked it.  I didn’t love it, but it was tasty enough not to be disappointed.  One of those, “Hmm, not great – but not bad” things.

​While I have no idea when this picture is from, it look like perhaps the late 1950s or early 1960s, quite a bit later than the 1930-40s.  So, it's nice to see hat they were still using the slogan.  And with the "Iz" spelling, no less!  It's also nice to see that my memory is correct, and that it was made with marshmallow.  And peanuts, too, it turns out.  From what little research I did, it seems that there may possibly have been different recipes over the years.  And, if so, maybe with maple.  And if so, that would have been great.  Though, for all I know, the one I had did have maple...

I came across this article on the Menuism site written by Lauren Deitsch, a "research & development specialist / chocolatier" from Vermont.  She wrote a piece in 2013 about vintage candy bars and included this -- 

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​​To this day, I have absolutely no idea why there was a Whiz candy bar at that drug store counter that one time.  But I remain ever-grateful that there was.  And that I happened to go there that Sunday morning.

Last year, ESPN released its acclaimed 8-hour documentary mini-series, The Last Dance, about Michael Jordan and the Chicago Bulls’ final seasons together.  It was wonderful, and I know non-sports fans who watched and were riveted by it.
 
But to Bulls fans, as meticulous and excellent as it was, there was a small hole in the story.  That’s the near-total omission of center Luc Longley.  He could be seen in a few clips, but wasn’t interviewed, and I don’t think was even mentioned – though if he was, it was only once or twice in passing.  To be clear, Longley wasn’t a major player on the team, but was not an unimportant part, and he was a very popular player in Chicago, in part because he was the full person from Australia to play in the NBA – and had a relatively laid-back Australian attitude. 
 
It’s never been quite clear why he was left out, but the story sort of revolves around that Michael Jordan wanting to focus on others.  Though that doesn’t make complete sense, since it shouldn’t have stopped the filmmakers from simply talking to Longley.  Basically, he was a low-key guy who didn't make headlines, and got left out. 
 
But as a result of that, another documentary came into being.  That would be One Giant Leap made for Australia TV specifically about Luc Longley, his life and long, unexpected journey to the NBA, and interesting aftermath.  It’s an hour long, and was presented in two 30-minute parts.  And it’s not only extremely good, open and very interesting -- with lots of footage of his Bulls teammates and coach Phil Jackson talking eloquently about him and his importance to that great team -- but the documentary is notable and got a great deal of attention for one special thing:  Michael Jordan’s extensive participation.

Jordan, who isn't known for doing all that many long interviews, sat down for a half-hour talk with the filmmakers, almost specifically because he felt terrible that Longley wasn’t included in The Last Dance.  

He talks openly about that (and as I noted above, discusses that while he made a mistake not discussing Longley and regrets it, there was no reason the ESPN documentarians couldn't have spoken with him -- something Bulls coach Phil Jackson confirms in the film, as well), and goes on how terrific Longley was, how integral to the success of the team, and how much he admired Longley.  Obviously the full interview isn’t included in One Giant Leap, but a lot is, interspersed throughout. 

Producer Caitlin Shea has said that when they set out to make the documentary, they had no idea if Michael Jordan would participate at all, let alone do a long interview.  She said she'd never interviewed someone that famous and didn't know what to expect, and was even a bit scared when sitting down, not knowing what Jordan would want to talk about or avoid.  And she was amazed by how open he was and gracious, and just went on talking at length, about himself and Longley.

For all that, there’s a wonderful moment near the very end that stands out, with about two minutes to go in the documentary, when Longley is given a copy of Michael Jordan’s full interview to watch, and they show him watching Michael Jordan say all these truly wonderful things about him, how much he mattered, and how if Jordan had to put together a team, he would never leave Luc Longley off of it.  And watching this, not expecting to hear such glowing praise from the basketball legend, a surprised Longley beams – most-especially after having not been included in the ESPN film -- and says quietly, “Whoa, go M.J.”
 
Anyway, here are the two half-hour parts of the One Giant Leap documentary.  And I’ve followed it with a bonus – the full 30-minute interview with Michael Jordan.

Here's Part 1 of One Giant Leap​ --

And this is Part 2 --
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Finally, here is the bonus video of Michael Jordan's full interview with the filmmakers.  I seem to have some problem getting it to start at the beginning, but I think that's because it's link is in the memory cache of my browser, so that shouldn't be a problem for others.  If it is, though, you only have to drag the scroll bar back to the beginning --

The Chicago Symphony Orchestra had it first concert last week after over a year-and-a-half.  They've tried to fill in the spaces with a pretty aggressive and interesting online presence, but it's not the same as being at Symphony Center.

Its Music Director Riccardo Mutii addressed the audience with impromptu comments before the concert began.  He explained that since English wasn't his first language, it was difficult to express all his thoughts on the occasion, which is why he didn't want to write anything down and wanted to speak more from the heart.  If he did so this superbly, talking about arts and culture and what it all does for society and, most interestingly, how society is impacted when its missing, I can only imagine what he'd say in Italian.  It wasn't patting "fine arts" on the back, but noting all aspects of culture, and -- more specifically -- explaining movingly why it had impact.  His off-the-cuff words started out low-key, and then built into something far more moving that I suspect people there expected.

I thought he deserved today's opening spot.

I've written in the past about my cousin Diana Leviton Gondek, who's a terrific artist in Chicago.  Among other things, she's worked with the Special Olympics -- who are based in Chicago -- even to the point of being commissioned to design their 50th anniversary poster.  I've also noted the three fiberglass horses she was commissioned to create for the city to honor fallen policemen, one horse of which was on display outside of Mayor Rahm Emanuel's office.

It turns out that the Special Olympics is introducing a new program, where they feature artwork from their athletes shown side-by-side with professional art.  The CBS-TV affiliate in Chicago, WBBM, did a report on this, and the Special Olympics asked Diana to speak on behalf of it.

(I think this could lead to a spin-off series, an artist who solves crimes as a hobby, finding patterns that lead her to the culprits, accompanied by her sidekick cat, Banksy.)

So,  okay, yes, I'm biased.  In either event, I can now refer to her as my artist cousin Diana Leviton Gondek as Seen on CBS News.  And so, we take you now to our correspondent in the Windy City.
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Donald Rumsfeld died yesterday at the age of 88.

On her show last night, Rachel Maddow opened with a long piece on Rumsfeld -- but I loved how it wasn't a eulogy, but rather more of a recitation of his despicable actions over the decades. 

I'm not concerned with "Oh, how can you say that about someone who just died?" when it comes to Rumsfeld. How many died not only in unnecessary wars because of him, but wars we got into because he lied and manipulated facts? And how many lives did he hurt dividing America?

I've written here that I've known of Donald Rumsfeld for a very long time.  He not only was the Congressman who represented my district when I was a kid, but we also went to the same high school, New Trier in Winnetka, a northern suburb of Chicago.

In fact, we even crossed paths once -- and there's photographic evidence!

And to make matters even worse, Donald Rumsfeld and I went to the same high school, albeit at different times -- New Trier High School in Winnetka, Illinois.

Not long ago, I wrote here about how my childhood growing up in Glencoe, Don Friedman (who roams around these pages on occasion) sent me a note about how he was going through some old photos and came across one from a class trip we took to Washington, D.C.  Both of us think this took place during junior high, though the box was marked Freshman Year in high school.  

But there I am -- with Don -- and also the other Don, Rumsfeld.  You can see Our Congressman standing with the teacher chaperones in the lower far-right (and how appropriate is that?!) .  And you can see that he signed it on the Capitol steps.  That's me, the short fellow in the top row, fourth gremlin from the left.  Don Friedman is to my left, in the light sportcoat and dark sweater.

I’m trying to decide if it’s a good thing or bad that I have a picture with me and Don Rumsfeld together.  However, I take great comfort knowing that the two of us are about as far apart as two can be in the photo, which is a lovely metaphor for life…
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                                                         ​​Donald Rumsfeld and MeI

'm back from vacation at the Midwest Communications Ranch in Chicago. It was a good trip, cleaning up brush along Lake Shore Drive and splitting rails. The latter is a tradition here in the Land of Lincoln, though it also shows me to be a man of the people. Having bratwurst does that, too. To be clear, this was officially a working vacation, since I checked my phone messages every day.

Also, I got some reading in, and will be releasing my full list soon. But among those I did get to are "My Pet Goat II: The Goat Returns," "Gilles Goat Boy" by John Barth, and "Three Billy Goats Gruff" in the original Norwegian. I started "The Stranger" by Albert Camus, but didn't get much farther than I did back in high school.

(After grasping that it's about this guy who kills an Arab without being provoked and has no remorse, I flipped to the last page, curious how at least this ended. The back flyleaf simply said, "You might enjoy other existential French stories," and suggested 'No Exit' by Jean-Paul Sartre." Oh, God, no thanks, déjà vu. However, it was good to learn something on my vacation: who knew that neocons get their war plans from French existentialists?!)

I also read plot summaries of a couple poems by Shakespeare, and a biography of former Ambassador to Portugal, Frank Shakespeare. Also, "Dante's Inferno" (not really), "Sports Illustrated," "TV Guide," a flyer for The Corner Bakery, the Tribune sports section, and a dozen menus. And the back of a box of Cheerios.

It is also time to come clean.

When I was there, wandering through the ghosts and shadows of home and the past, recognizing that the Cubs wouldn't be winning the World Series this year, the memories swirled around me, and I knew that I had to reveal a secret from long ago.

Donald Rumsfeld and I go way back.

He may not know this. But it's true nonetheless.

When I was but a wee kidling growing up in the North Shore suburbs of Chicago, far too young to vote, Donald Rumsfeld was elected Congressman of my district. I would say he "represented me," but that's stretching things a bit. The district number? It was 13. Tell me that God doesn't have a whimsical sense of humor.

It speaks volumes when a young child not only remembers his Congressman from long ago, but was actually embarrassed by who that Congressman was. Most little children barely know who their cousins are. The only time they're really embarrassed is if their father belches in front of friends. But I was embarrassed by Donald Rumsfeld being my Congressman.

I'd apologize, but I was too young to vote.

Donald Rumsfeld was our Congressman for only eight years, and while that sounds positive, it actually started a long chain of good news/bad news.

The good news is that he resigned in 1969.

The bad news is that he was brought into the Nixon Cabinet and given national authority for the first time.

The good news. We got a new Congressman.

The bad. It was Philip Crane. A man so utterly conservative he not only was to the right of Rumsfeld, but to the right of Generalissimo Franco. (One of the prides of my life is surviving this upbringing.)

The very good news is that there was redistricting, Watergate came along, the backlash hit, and the wonderful Democrat Abner Mikvah got elected. An election so stunning, it remains legend. Let this be a sign of encouragement to all.

The bad news. He was elected by about 87 votes. (I exaggerate. But not by much.)

The good news. Remarkably, he was re-elected, even without the pull of Watergate. I believe this margin was 64 votes.

The bad. He knew he didn't have a future in this conservative district, so when President Jimmy Carter offered him a lifetime appointment as a federal judge, he took it.

(Most people actually know of Abner Mikva, but aren't aware. At the end of the movie, "Dave," when the former-VP is sworn in as President...that's Mikvah doing the honors. Check the credits. Okay, he's accomplished far more than that, but unless you want to read-up on his legal decisions, that's what you get...)

And so, it all starts with Donald Rumsfeld. And ends with a Democrat winning that same district in an election when the voters got fed up with a corrupt Republican President facing the possibility of impeachment surrounding an unpopular war.

Life is funny, and God does have that sense of whimsy.

There's an amusing thing in this tale, even if your not a baseball fan.  But first, the background.

Last night, I was watching some of the early innings of the Chicago Cubs game against the Los Angeles Dodgers, but had some other things to do, so I left.  I came back later -- around the fourth inning -- to check things out and planned to watch an inning or two before I got back to my other activity.  But I noticed that the Cubs hadn't yet given up a base hit, so I knew I couldn't leave until the no-hitter was broken up -- or not.  And so, I kept watching.  And continued to watch through the final out because four Cubs pitchers together threw a no-hitter and won by a score of 4-0.

What was more notable is that in the 145 year history of the Cubs in the National League, it was the team's 17th no-hitter...but the first time ever that they'd thrown a "combined" no-hitter with more than one pitcher on the mound.

Making this all the funnier is that none of the three Cubs relief pitcher had any idea that there was a no-hitter going on when they were on the mound!  Zach Devies started the game and pitched six innings, and then the three relievers were Ryan Tepera, Andrew Chafin and Craig Kimbrel.

Chaifin came in second, for the eighth inning.  After he got the side out hitless, he was done for the night and so went to the Cubs clubhouse.  “I’m sitting there with a couple of trainers," he said, "and there was a stat on the bottom of the TV saying something about there’s been six no-hitters already this yea.  I started talking to them about it and then I turned around and they both went looking in the opposite direction."  There is a baseball tradition not to talk about a no-hitter when it's in progress, so as not to "jinx" anything.  But Chafin didn't know there was a no-hitter in program -- although everyone in the clubhouse did, which is why they all looked away from him.  “Then I was like, ‘Wait a second, why would they be showing that stat at this point in the game?" Which is when he added, "‘Oh, [expletive], I might’ve just ruined it for us.’ But yeah, it worked out."

Even when closer Kimbrel entered the game, he didn't know either.  “When Willie [Cubs catcher Willson Contrerar] gave a big fist bump, I knew something was up,” Kimbrel said. “And [Ryan] Tepera ran out there and whispered and he’s like, ‘You have no idea what happened.’ And then [Javier Báez] put me in a headlock. I had no clue when I came into the game that we had a no-hitter.”

Odd as it might be that none of the relievers knew there was a no-hitter going on, as the Chicago Tribune explained -- "The location of the visitors bullpen near the right-field corner at Dodger Stadium creates a limited view of the scoreboard. The Cubs pen could see the count, number of outs and some statistics, but the hit column was obstructed. The TV in the bullpen wasn’t any help, either. It showed an overhead view of the field because of MLB’s video rules. Plus, there are no box-score features on the screen."

And as Kimbrel added, the relievers in the bullpen could see that there were a lot of Dodgers on the bases during the game.  "When you have a lot of traffic on the bases," he said, "you don’t really get as consumed that they’re all walks. You figure, well, maybe one of them is a single or something like that. But that wasn’t the case.”

I also thought of one other thing -- you'd think that someone would have told the relievers what was going on, at the very least when they came in to pitch.  But I realized that no one would likely mention to them that there's a no-hitter in progress, since doing so would be against baseball tradition and "jinx" things.

Here's the last out, with Kimbrel striking out pinch-hitter Will Smith for the final out.  You'll notice that when catcher Contreras pumps his fist in great excitement, Kimbrel himself is stoic, as if he couldn't care less.  But when the camera eventually cuts back to him, mobbed by teammates at the 1:34 mark, his face is covered with a huge smile, since he's by then been told.

Yesterday, I was exchanging emails with a friend in Texas that had to do with the blistering weather there.  I went to a weather website to track down some information, and once there I saw a headline to  story about a tornado that just hit a Chicago suburb.  I knew that growing up in Glencoe, north of Chicago and on Lake Michigan, we'd occasionally have tornado watches -- though rarely reaching the level of a tornado warning -- but the tornados (and most "warnings") were usually in the more outlying and western inland areas.

I immediately clicked on the article and saw that the subheading said that the area hit was southwest of Chicago.  That gave me some relief, because I was mainly checking for Glencoe (where I'm from) and other norther suburbs where most of my relatives in the area live.

But then I realized that I have a cousin who lives southwest of Chicago in Naperville, so I wanted to check about that, though happily "southwest of Chicago" is a very huge area.  And reading deeper in the article, it turned out that the down hit by the tornado was...Naperville!

This is where my cousin Diana lives.  I've mentioned her several times for her artwork (including the memorial fiberglass horses she was commissioned to design by the City of Chicago) and the articles that periodically have been written about her.

When I phoned her, there was no answer, so I admit to a little bit of concern -- but she called back about half an hour later.  Her family was fine, and fortunately they have a basement and huddled there, While it was certainly concerning as the tornado sirens were going off at 11 PM, with torrents of rain and gale-force winds, happily there was almost no damage to the house, limited mostly a little bit of the grounds. 

However, when she went out for a walk the next day to assess the area, she came across where the tornado hit.  Close enough, obviously, for her to walk to.  (She quipped that before going out, she made sure to first put on her ruby red slippers.  And no, just to be clear for anyone wondering, and not knowing her sense of humor, she didn't actually do that.)  Not only was the damage terrible, it was only about a mile from their home.  As awful as the damage was, though, happily no one died, and the one person who was listed as critical and be taken off that list.

​Here are some of the photos she took of the area a mile from her.  

​And as Diana noted in her email -- there used to be a house here.  What's odd is that the homes next door on either side were relatively spared, not in the absolute direct path.

After going a while without an "IneterMISSION" podcast from the Chicago Symphony Orchestra, they appear back up to speed, and here's another.

This week, as they describe, "Six CSO musicians describe the power of sharing music with audiences of all ages, while working with a commitment for unified impact. As they also anticipate the return of live concerts again, each also describes the timeless power of the orchestra to connect with listeners."

What I also love about these podcasts -- and sets them apart from many, I think -- is that they also post links to full versions of all the snippets of music that play through the show.
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