Classical musical station KUSC in Los Angeles has done some weird things over the years, mostly during the last five or so.  This concerns one of my bugaboos.  It's not anything major, just personal.  But then, that's the point of a bugaboo. The underlying theme behind all of them at KUSC is that the station has been dumbing down its programming. It's still quite respectable.  Just less so than before.  And if such things are needed to keep classical music on the radio dial, I get it.   I know we're lucky to have a classical musical station in Los Angeles unlike many cities.  Though I've heard classical music stations in some of the other cities that still do have theirs, and the level of weirdness is less.  Then again, in fairness, this is Los Angeles.  Though in equal fairness, because this is Los Angeles, the entertainment center of the U.S., if you're going to do shtick, you'd better do it really well because the competition is strong.

Anyway, back to the show.  And what follows is nothing especially substation -- just another one of my occasional personal bugaboo tales --

​Between 7-8 in the morning, which is generally when I get up, the station started two features about 10-15 years ago.  The first of these features, which comes on at 7:15 is the "Off to School" request selection.  I wrote about it here at great length, so I will spare you and not repeat it all again. The very short version is that it's a perfectly fine idea in theory -- letting kids request a classical music selection in the morning -- but is dismal in practice. Not only because they eventually realized that not enough kids were requesting classical music, so they've had to expand the "Off to School" concept to the point of meaningless, by now allowing requests from just about anyone in the world who has children regardless of age or has grandchildren or students, or who knows someone who may have once been a child -- but also because when an actual child does request something, it's almost always a movie theme (which isn't classical music) and usually the theme from Harry Potter.

The other feature comes along around 7:45 in the morning, the Great Composer Quiz.  Again, in theory it's a perfectly nice idea.  The host who created the idea at least put in the time to come up with thoughtful clues before playing a piece of music by the Great Composer who you were supposed to guess.  He was a bit overly-pedantic in presenting the quiz, making it seem Oh-So-Important ("...and so...who IS...today's -- GREAT...COMPOSER??!") but it was handled fine, and an okay guessing game.  

When a new host came in, though, his heart was never in it.  And worse, he didn't want to risk any listening not possibly missing the right answer, so it came across like he didn't try to come up with clues until five minutes before, and his clues would be things like, "Okay, today's Great Composer was German, and famous for writing operas like The Magic Flute and The Marriage of Figaro, and a movie was made about his life that won the Academy Award for Best Picture, and he was considered a child prodigy who had a rival name Antonio Salieri and his name rhymed with "oat-zart."  And here's a piece of music he wrote -- and would then play "Eine Kleine Nachtmusik."  But what made it worst of all is that after all these clues, he'd say, "Okay, I think after all of that you should really be able to get it now!!" which not only is not the point of a quiz, but it only served to make listeners feel really terrible if after all those easy clues they couldn't guess it.

I only bring this up today because this morning they went from the ridiculous to the sublime  There was a new host today -- I don't know if this is temporary or permanent, though she did a nice job -- and it doesn't seem like she has quite grasped the best way to handle the Great Composer Quiz yet.  It was actually sort of funny.  From "You will probably be able to guess this even if you have never listened to classical music in your life and accidentally just landed on this station today", we now are at "You probably won't be able to guess this unless you have a PhD in musical composition and a Ouija board."

I am not exaggerating today's Great Composer Quiz.  The clues were basically -- "Today's composer was born in Nizhny Novgorod, Russia.  He only ate fish.  He was a bachelor.  And he was part of a group known as 'The Five.'  So, who is today's Great Composer?"  Okay, on three, all together, one -- two...wait, the looks on your faces suggest that those clues didn't help much.  Not to worry, I'm not too big to admit I didn't have a clue either.  But then I thought, well, maybe, the piece of music will ring a bell with me.  No, it didn't.  Not the slightest idea.

So, I waited to hear who the Great Composer was.  I know there are a lot of well-regarded classical composers whose names I recognize, but don't know all that well.  People like Scriabin, Monteverdi, Purcell, Donizetti, Messiaen, and such, composers I've heard of but know very little about and would have a hard time recognizing their music.  Though I know that experts would know them well.

And so, who was today's Great Composer who likes fish, is a bachelor and was born in Nizhny Novgorod?  It was none other than -- Mily Balakirev!!

And I hear the collective "Ahhhhhhhhh, of course!!  It was Balakirev!" from all of you.

I suppose that KUSC will continue to run these features for a while -- probably a long while.  And that's okay.  At heart, the idea behind them is fine.  And I am certain that there are many many who loooove the.  Fair enough. (And fair enough, too, that there are those who don't.)  It is just my fondest wish that if the station is going to have Fun Features that they actually figure out how to make them fun.  And make them work properly.  And not just be time fillers to seem clever and audience-involving when instead they handle them like afterthoughts.

Handel.  Now, if that was the Great Composer, I might have been able to guess it...

For the past three weeks, the country has been pretty-well inundated with Trump, Ukraine and impeachment.  And though we're all getting largely the same news, the challenge has been keeping up, missing some and hearing how different people analyze it.  So, it was sort of weird and refreshing yesterday to get an aspect of the story from a totally different perspective. 

Not a deep, substantive perspective, just one skimming across the surface.  Still, though,when a different angle shows up in a sea of All the Same, you appreciate it.

I was talking with a cousin yesterday, when a thought occurred to me.  "Your wife," I said, as the little light bulb went on above my head, "she's from Ukraine, isn't she?!"

Actually, I knew she was from Ukraine.  We'd discussed it briefly a year ago or so, but on a totally different story at the time, of course.  Back then, the news was about Paul Manafort, his coming trial and how his PR company had been paid over $60 million by Ukraine.  What bemused her about it all was that that may have been more than the entire military budget of the country.

And I knew, too, that my grandfather Morton Leviton was from Ukraine. He was born in Odessa, and came to the United States early on, getting his naturalized citizenship in 1912 at the age of 27. He became an architect though passed away long before I was born.  He was my mother’s father, and she absolutely, totally adored him, naming my brother John’s middle name was after him.  His wife, my Grandma Rose, was one of the utter joys of my life.

But much of that sort of stayed resting in the back of my mind, relaxing amid the Trump circus. I certainly remembered my grandfather's connection to Ukraine, but that was such a minor part of everything, it fell mostly in the Bemused Category.

So, it wasn't until yesterday talking with my cousin that the far greater connection he had -- and far greater connection his wife has -- bubbled to the surface.  (The two of them actually met in Ukraine, for that matter, so his knowledge of the country was more than tangential.  And hers is continual, still with family there and in regular contact.)

What I was curious about was how this story -- one that is so profoundly consuming on a non-stop hourly basis to the United States for it being centered on the likely impeachment of the president and which is focused entirely on Ukraine as the foundation of it all -- is seen in Ukraine.  Was something this overwhelmingly impactful to the United States as big a news story in Ukraine...or of so little interest that it doesn't even register much.

And the answer, he said, is the latter.

It just isn't much of a story there.  And there are two reasons -- one thoroughly understandable, the other a bit bemusing.  The first, he said, is that the far, far, far bigger story there is that the country is actually in a war with Russia, and the survival of the country is at the core of people's lives. Not a constitutional issue 3,000 miles away.  (Although of course it's worth nothing that at the heart of that constitution issue of impeachment is the matter of holding up $391 million in military aid to the country in their fight.)  The other reason, more on the whimsical side, is that given how totally corrupt Ukraine is, another country's corruption is meaningless to them.  In fact, in many ways it's just a given.  Not even remotely headline news.

As I said, this is not earth-shattering, deep perspective on the story.  But it certainly is intriguing to look at this swamp from a different angle.  And even, when it gets a bit overwhelming, somewhat nice...

I take a walk every day, my morning constitutional.  And most days it's pretty basic.  Low-key, a nice stroll, On occasion, some days are a bit more lively than others.  Today, I turned the corner and headed to a grocery store a few blocks down.

It wasn't a good day for that car which crashed into the fire hydrant.  
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Now that "Captain Kangaroo" is trending, thanks yesterday to the always-egregious Rep. Matt Gaetz (R-FL), it gives me a chance to bring up a fond memory that I actually met the Captain himself (Bob Keeshan) at a book expo several years back that I was reporting on, and even got to do him a favor with the WGA.  He was a very nice guy. And I still have the book he signed for me.

The favor was small, but still a treat.

When I was wandering the hall, I happened to spot his booth where he was promoting his new book, and made my way right over.  We got to chatting and he noted that my press badge was from the Writers Guild of America.  He mentioned that he was a Guild member in the WGA East, though because of that he wasn't able to get the Guild's Written By magazine which was quite good, and he'd always wanted to.  I said that I knew the editor and would follow-up on it.

When I returned to Los Angeles, I gave a call to the editor Richard Stayton and explained the situation.  Without a moment's hesitation (not schocking, I know, but still, hey, you never know...) he immediate said with enthusiasm that, of course, he'd be absolutely to add Captain Kangaroo to the mailing list.

It's always nice to be able to do someone a favor.  It's hard to explain how joyous it is to do a favor for Captain Kangaroo.

Around when I was perhaps in the third grade, I remember reading in class about the La Brea Tar Pits in Los Angeles.  It's where prehistoric animals got trapped, and then other of their fellow creatures would see them struggling and easy prey -- and going in to get them, they in turn would get caught.  Only the lucky few got out.  The site was discovered in 1901, with excavations beginning in 1913.  Though I wasn't big dinosaur fanatic as a kid, I was nonetheless seriously impressed.  Even at that age, I thought it was remarkable that one of civilization's great archeological locales was in the middle of the (then) third largest city in the United States.

When I came to Los Angeles for graduate school at UCLA, there was a small handful of places I wanted to see.  Disneyland, of course was one.  A movie studio was another.  I think Catalina Island may have been up there.  And I really couldn't wait to see the La Brea Tar Pits.

Time passes.  Several decades, as it happens.  And during all that time, I never went to the La Brea Tar Pits.  I passed by it a hundred times.  I thought about going regularly.  It's next door to the Los Angeles County Museum of Art, which I don't love but I'm a member of and go to periodically.  But for reasons I can't explain, I'd never gone to the La Brea Tar Pits.

Until yesterday!

Whatever the reasons I never had gone before, I finally got fed up and set aside a day, bought my ticket online, and went -- finally.

O huzzah!
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Afterwards, I was talking with a friend who had a somewhat similar situation, and he was extremely disappointed by the experience.  Coming from New York and having seen the Natural History Museum, he found the museum there almost nothing.  I felt differently.  I grew up going to the Field Museum of Natural History there, and it's impressive (though a bit dry) in it's own right, but I still was thrilled to be at the La Brea Tar Pits.  It's not that it's a great museum -- it's not -- but that's not the point.  It's that it's one of the great archeological sites in the world that's located in a major city.  And it was a joy being there.

Actually, the site is divided into two parts -- the George C. Page Museum, which they charge for, and the Tar Pits area with the excavation areas which is free.

The Museum is fairly small and, no, not impressive, but the history of what's their is wonderful, and so is what they display. For instance, I enjoyed stopping by their Fossil Lab where a lot of the research is open to the public, and you get to watch the scientists at work, studying the material unearthed on the grounds.

There were some pleasant displays and short movies, though a lot of it seems more focused on kids.  (They have a longer 3-D movie, but I passed on that.)  However, the reconstruction of prehistoric animals is what stands out.  One of the more surprising skeletons is Harlan's Ground Sloth.  We think of sloths and small, sort of cuddly creatures.  They have have been cuddly, up to a point, but back in prehistoric days, the sloth was anything but small. 

My favorite was the Columbia Mammoth.  The bones are all from fossils discovered on the grounds, though not from the same animals.  The tusks however were added separately.

I wasn't sure what the difference was between a mammoth and mastadon.  It turns out that the latter is small and more compact.

Bizarrely, though the Page Museum has its own collection that covers over five million artifacts, some of what was on display there the day that I went was part of a traveling exhibition -- from the Field Museum of Chicago!!!  (Not most of what was on display, and not the Columbia Mammoth above.)  The outside grounds are really the historic site.  There's nothing overly majestic about it -- most of the pits, in fact, have been mostly-covered up over time, though you can still see the a bit of the tar still seeping through, with occasional methane bubbles.

(By the way, it's not actually tar.  It's asphalt, which is a natural material.  Tar has additives, but it's the name that stuck over the decades.  Brea means "tar" in Spanish.)

New pits crop up all the time, though.  One area was such that they had to carve out the "tar" and what was caught in it, and then crated.  The crates have been moved to the Project 23 area, which is where the work reclaiming the fossils takes place.
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Currently, the part of the grounds where most of the active excavating is going on is Pit 91.  The bulk of what has been found there is fossils from Sabre-Tooth Cats and what they call ancient horses.

As I said, the La Brea Tar Pits (and its adjoining Page Museum) is most definitely not a great exhibition.  What it is, however, is a historic part of civilization.  And for that reason I had a wonderful time.  I wish there was more, but I was not let down after waiting to get there since I was eight years ago -- and driving by it regularly for decades.  I have no idea why I waited -- in one regard it's like any sites that are famous in a city, but second nature to those who live in their midst because "they're just there" and a part of your daily life -- but I wanted to go.  And continued to want to go.  But didn't.  

Until I did.  Finally.  And was thoroughly glad for it.

I am bursting with pride.  This afternoon, I just received the following notice sent to me here at this website.  What it said in full was --

"We would like to inform that you liked a comment ID:35915743 in a social network , January 9, 2019 at 19:48
This like has been randomly selected to win the seasonal «Like Of The Year» 2019 award! 

Thanks in advance to everyone's good wishes.  This is really quite an honor.  More than you know.  For starters, it's not everyone who can be "randomly selected" for an award about anything, but especially one based totally on just liking something.  If everyone could get such an honor, it wouldn't be random.

But even more to the point making this honor so special, I am never "liked" any comment on social media.  (I avoid such things, because when you do so, the service codes your likes and has a record of it used for targeting ads to you or any other reason they want.)  So, to receive a random award for actually not doing anything is about as good as it gets.

That said, I admit to having been a been uncertain who would give me such an high honor.  So, by using the information left behind in their comment, I did the best I could to track it down.  And it's from what appears to be something like an auto repair service and car dealership based in Kufstein, Austria.

I will modestly suggest that not many other people who have won their own honors for literary achievement -- whether real or non-existent -- to have done so from an international institution of such wide-ranging interests.

​Just more proof that we tries hard here to bring you the very best that we can.

I'm not sure when the awards ceremony is, but in advance I think the fine readers of these pages deserve at least an advance look at my acceptance speech --

"I would like to thank your Auto Dealership Repair Shop and its members who randomly selected me for something I didn't do.  One works hard on social media to be as thoughtful in as few words or actions as possible, while not saying or doing something that will make you subject to storms of hate-filled abuse.  If I knew that I could be so-honored by simply not doing anything, I would have done that long ago.  I hope to live up to your acclaim by doing so as much as possible in the future..  And as such, I will begin right n..."

Mr., Speaker, a point of personal privilege!. I have a small, admittedly-POINTLESS but personal bugaboo. Thank you for the time:

I regularly see the media talking about people waiting for hours to get a "selfie" with Elizabeth Warren, and people on social media posting pictures of their "selfies" with her. I love that she's willing t stay that long to interact with everyone, and admire their patience, as well.  But -- to be clear -- almost NONE of these are "selfies." A "selfie"  is very specifically when you yourself take a photo with yourself in it. When someone else takes a photo of you (most-especially when posing with another person), it's simply...a "photograph."
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And referring to me as a member of the Grammar Police doesn't change that.

​(I'm actually fine when people knowingly play around with language, or even screw up with words by mistake, as I and everyone does.  But not only is accuracy generally considered a positive thing, but there are some words that have a cultural meaning -- in this case, making oneself the active participant in the action, thanks largely to a change in technology ("I took this photo of me!") -- and I think it's good not to lose such valuable things.  And that's pointed as much at the media calling them "selfies" as anyone.  By the way, to be fair, as well, I'm sure this likely began when early on people actually did take real selfies with Sen. Warren. And after it adapted to a more formalized practice, the word stuck, when it shouldn't have.  Because...well, it's taking credit for what someone else did.)

Back in late June, I wrote a rave review here of the absolutely wonderful documentary Maiden that's about the first all-female crew to participate in the Whitbread Around-the-World race in 1989.  The ship's captain, who put the crew together, Tracy Edwards, also founded The Maiden Factor, an organization that works with charities to provide an education for girls who don’t currently have that basic human right.  In doing so, the foundation sails the ship around the world to help raise money.

As I've mentioned here, I occasionally head down to Marina del Rey where my cousin Jim Kaplan has a small motorboat/sailboat, and the two of us tool around the Pacific Ocean.  Yesterday was one of those days.  And as we turned down the basin where his boat is docked and headed towards the main channel, we looked towards what's known as Basin A and what we saw there was --

Oh, huzzah.  Yes, Maiden is currently docked in the Marina Del Rey harbor as part of its ongoing promotional tour for its The Maiden Factor foundation.  The boat will be leaving on September 17 for Valparaiso, Chile.

If anyone in the Los Angeles is interested in a closer look, they are having an Open Day this Saturday (September 14) between 11am and 3pm at the California Yacht Club.  The address is 4469 Admiralty Way, in Marina del Rey,. Public Parking Lot is 5 minute walk to the Yacht Club.

And for those patient enough, the documentary Maiden is being released on DVD in three weeks and will be available on Netflx as of October 1.

By way of reminder, here's the trailer --
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The past week I've had some jaunts around town, so I figured that this was as good a time as any to clean up a bunch of notes.

Last Friday, I drove out to Arcadia -- a town I've never been to before -- that's northeast of here, east of Glendale and then Pasadena.  I went to the Angeles National Forest Headquarters for no reason that makes a particularly good story.  Basically, it was to get a National Park pass, which I could have done by mail.  However, I not only was interested in going to the headquarters (I used to work for the California State Park system so I like such things), but also I noticed that the Los Angeles County Arboretum and Botanic Garden, which was only about two miles away.

As I've written here, I love the Chicago Botanic Garden (which is actually in my hometown of Glencoe), a spectacular place that's rich and vibrant and expansive and beautifully laid out and organized, with an education center, cooking demonstration area, carillon, various lands, islands and more, which I call the Disneyland of Botanic Gardens,  So, I was curious about the Arboretum here.  And as a member of the Chicago garden, I had a reciprocal entry here, which is always a good thing.

(Somewhat nearby the Arboretum to the north and west are the Descanso Gardens.  I went there several years back -- happily, it's also on the reciprocal program! -- and it was expansive and enjoyable, though fairly basic in its grounds.)

I had a pleasant time at the Los Angeles Arboretum, though found it a bit underwhelming.  However, before going any further, it's important to note that this article is brought to you in living color on NBC --
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(Okay, for some people here they won't get that allusion.  Most will -- it's the NBC peacock that they used for years as their logo to promote the network.)

​There was a certain charm to the area which I liked, but it's fairly limited, and not very interestingly laid out, I thought, with little description of what was there and what you were looking at.  The centerpieces of the Arboretum actually have nothing to do with gardens.  One is a big bandshell where they have concerts for the Pasadena Symphony and popular artists -- it's certainly a great venue for that.  And the other is the Queen Anne House built in 1895 by an early owner of the property, which has been used as a movie location.  Unfortunately, it's not open for touring through, but you can only look in from the outside.
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While I was in the area, I also swung over to see the Norton Simon Museum -- but when I got there the parking lot was full.  And when I drove back to Colorado Boulevard to find somewhere else to park, it turned out that the road headed off without any side streets or off-ramp exits for a couple miles, so I couldn't get back to the museum.  And by the time side streets came back in, and I could turn around, I was far enough away that I decided not to turn back and just passed it up for another time.

But while driving back through Glendale to Eagle Rock, I finally got to stop at a restaurant for an early dinner that I've had recommended by several people -- Casa Bianca, which was highly-regarded pizza here.  I've never eaten at the place because they're not open for lunch, and driving through rush hour traffic to get to the distant place was of no interest to me, though a friend of mine does that on occasion.  I liked their pizza, it was very good -- but I didn't think it was "Great," or at least great enough to even consider driving this far for it, unless I'm already in the area like this time.
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And then yesterday I took again ocean trip with my cousin Jim Kaplan, who I've written about here previously.  He's worked in the marine industry for years, and has a small sailboat out in the marina, and every once in a while I'll join him.  As my article noted, it's often a great time and and misadventure.  The last trip, for instance, there was a squall.  This time, the motor went out as we headed through the marina out to the ocean.  I asked him if he'd every docked his boat using the sails only.  No, he said.  Do you think you'll be able to, I asked?  He laughed, "We'll find out!!"

The sailing though was very enjoyable.  Great weather, and though there were choppy waves, it was still a fairly smooth ride.  That's Santa Monica Piere off in the distance, as I briefly took the helm.

The good news is that we got the motor running after we re-entered the marina and turned into the channel for his dock.  So, we made it back in one piece.  And he told me today that he thinks he discovered the problem with the motor -- that it got clogged -- and he cleaned it out, and the thing seems to be running better than it has in a long while.

When we got back to his house, it turns out that one of his neighbors is the actor Matthew Modine -- who is running for president of the Screen Actors Guild.  The election is next week or soon after.  He came across as a very nice guy, and Jim is trying to get him to join us on an ocean voyage.  I don't know enough about the SAG issues, though Matthew filled me in some of them.  Obviously he's biased in his observations, but I know enough about Guild politics and issues to get a sense where things sit.  And from that and a short, very pleasant conversation -- hardly the basis for forming a deeply-informed opinion -- I hope he wins.

(As a side benefit, I also got to ask Matthew about a running joke in the Out and About with Jiminy Glick videos that I post here and something I've always been curious about, where Jiminy often refers to his four boys -- Morgan, Mason, Matthew and Modine.  The short version is that he's friends with Martin Short who plays Jiminy, and just came up with that one day and threw it in without asking permission first.  And Matthew finds it hilarious.  The other reference is to another friend, the son of actor James Mason, named Morgan Mason.)

Next time, Admiral Kaplan and I head out in search of the white whale...

When I was back in Chicago the other week, staying in Evanston to be nearby relatives, I drove a few times through Glencoe where I grew up.  And as I passed the Village of Glencoe sign that welcomes one to town, I noticed that it said -- "Established 1869."  Which meant that this year, it's 150 years old.  So, I figured that that deserves at least some recognition.  It's not a shabby achievement.
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I'm not sure of the population, but it's always been around 10,500, so we'll go with that.  If you want to see about the town's festivities, you can check it out here.  But I'm going to keep this fairly simple and dive in here on my own.

I thought that when a town hits 150 years, especially if you grew up there, it's entitled to fairly good-sized photographic presentation.  So here are a dozen or so to help commemorate the occasion.  Most of these come from about 40 years back when I wandered around town and took some pictures.  To be fair to the town, Glencoe isn't always covered with snow -- it actually can get lush green from the late Spring through the Summer, with brilliant colors in the Fall -- but that's when I chose to walk around and take the photos. 

That's the old library on the left, which is probably my favorite building in town, as much for the outside (it just looks like a library is supposed to) as what's inside -- especially the wonderfully magical downstairs shelves that felt like you were in a hidden cloister -- although the train station is a very close second.

Behind the library, this is the town hall, which I always like for its old world, colonial style, though I still think of as one of the more "modern" of the significant buildings since it's only about 60 years old or so.
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​And this the turn-of-the century train station.  A few years ago I rented the movie Flag of Our Fathers, that Clint Eastwood directed, about the six soldiers who raised the flag at Iwo Jima.  At one point in the film, the soldiers have returned to the U.S. and go on a cross-country tour to raise money for the war effort and are in Chicago.  Eastwood needed a venue that looked out of the 1940s, and when the scene came up I though, "Gee, that looks like the Glencoe station.  Afterwards I did some reserach -- and it was..

​I've always loved this photo, not so much for the visual imaging of it -- though I do like that -- but almost entirely for the sign with states which is significantly the obvious.

The sign and its helpful notification aside, here's a better look at Lake Michigan, and the lovely shores of the Glencoe public beach. Fun fact:  it's more sandy in the Summer.

In fairness, no, the snow wasn't this high, nor were the drifts.  From the plows clearing the streets downtown, this was the result.  By the way, Weinecke's was a beloved hardware store, in town for probably half a century.  The building is still there and -- as a landmark and to keep the tradition, so is the sign -- but it's now a high-end restaurant.

(This was taken during the early afternoon, but the glare off the snow was SO bright that the camera auto-compensated and made it look darker...)

That was then, this is now.  This is Weinecke's today -- now the Guildhall restaurant.  And no, this is not one of my photographs.

Here's a much better, full view of my fave, the venerable old Glencoe Public Library.  Since the vegetation is lush and green, that's the first hint I didn't take the photo.

I've written often here about the acclaimed Writers Theatre in Glencoe, which began life in the back of the bookstore, Books on Vernon, just down the street from Weinicke's, with about 50 seats -- but still got critics from the Chicago Tribune and the Sun-Times to review of their productions, and even on occasion the New York Times.  It then moved to the far-more special Women's Club a few blocks away, which had a theater space designed for about 120 seats.  (This is where I saw the Harnick and Bock musical She Loves Me I've written about here often that I set up to attend along with Harnick and my aunt, who was his childhood friend and Northwestern classmate, and which starred Jessie Mueller before she went to Broadway and won a Tony Award as Best Actresses.)  A few years back the Wall Street Journal (which has sent critics to review plays here) named it the top regional theater in the country.  The company built up such a following that a few years ago, they did a major fundraising project and built a new, major structure on the spot.  

Grand as it is, they still kept the theaters intimate.  The main stage still only seats around 125 people, and the small stage holds only about 70.  It's further designed so that hey can also convert the lobby into a theater if needed.  Side note: last year I saw the world premiere of an interesting little play called Witch on the small stage, and in a few months the excellent Geffen Theatre in Los Angeles is presenting the play.  When some friends who attend a lot of the Geffen productions asked if I was thinking of going to see the play, I was able to tell them I already had...  And said it was quite good.

This is how far it's come from the back of a book store in a little over 25 years.  For the record, their photographer makes it look far better than I ever could.

Happily, I do have a few photos that I took during the summertime, so I think I should include at least one that shows how lush the forest is in Glencoe, as opposed to all the snow scenes.  This is the Turnbull Woods, part of the Cook County Forest Preserves, which I could reach a very short walk from our house, and where sat the Double Killer Cave my friend and I named and explored as kids.

I've written occasionally of the spectacular Chicago Botanic Garden, which I call the Disneyland of botanic gardens because it's set up into different "lands" and is so expansive that it has trolley tours and a miniature children's train set-up during the Summer.  But though it has "Chicago" in its name, it's actually located in Glencoe.  No single picture can do its magnificence justice, but here are two that I took that gives at least a hint of an idea.

And what the heck, we'll end on a picture of the homestead where I grew up.  That was my brother and my room on the left until we got old enough that he got his own room in the back, and I kept this one.

In many ways, this also served as Elisberg Stadium.  My brother and I played what we called "Fastball Tennis Ball in the driveway against the garage (our version of two-man baseball).  There was a basketball hoop on the garage rather than a standalone backboard -- this was fine, with one caveat: many of the houses in the neighborhood like ours were designed by the Keck firm, who were disciples of Frank Lloyd Wright (who designed some houses in Glencoe.  That meant that the rooftops were flat -- so if a shot went way-wild and landed on the roof, it didn't roll off.  You had to get the ladder to climb up.  However, this help train you to take as good shots as possible and not just fling the ball up in hopeful prayer.  Finally, the front yard served as our football field -- though the tree in the center of the yard made it a wee bit of an obstacle, however if you built it into your strategy it worked well as a high-end blocker.
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Happy 150.