on thin ice

It is a metaphor for being in a precarious position, but this morning the old adage "being on thin ice" was literally where I found myself-- shortly before I crashed with a thud and skidded on my back across said ice. This tome could be entitled "ode to lake Columbus" and anyone whose made the ride from Oak Park to Chicago via the Harrison street route knows about the low side of the park, just east of the woods and south of the golf course. It was impassable just a few weeks ago with nearly two feet of accumulated and crusted snow. Now it looks like it often does during the wet season, a path covered with just a few inches of water at the most, with a high point in the middle. the isthmus which provides a nearly dry passage to the other side. Emboldened by my fenders and fat tires, I tempted fate this morning and thought I could ride through. I had not counted on the ice, that it was just thick enough to get me several yards out before I broke through, and that when I got past the deep part it was frozen hard again. So, the wheels sunk and I had to use my foot to push along, lucky to find a narrow strip of frozen grass to gain enough of a purchase to propel myself. The my wheels came out of the water, onto the frozen solid eastern edge of the "lake" and I clipped back on and began to peddle. I crossed an island of dry asphalt and I gained some momentum and hit the next frozen spot, which was just about 10 feet wide and as soon as my rear wheel hit the ice it shot out from under me and I found myself hitting the frozen ground hard and my bike sliding away. I was on my back and skidded around trying to gain my feet. I stood up, walked to my bike and the found the chain had come off the ring, but that was the only damage. One foot was soaked with ice water and my elbow, shoulder and butt were singing, but once I got back on the road, I was OK. The saddle bags got scraped and I got road rash on my pants, not my legs, so no big deal. I feel a bit creaky and sore, but my clothes did not tear and the bike was unscathed. Like the song says "just a little shaken from the fall." but I am not a china cat sunflower, just a sun dawg, and survived my trip acrross the thin ice just fine. I decided I better pick an alternative way home, however.

Friday the 13th-- and if that is the only bad thing that happens, then I have nothing to worry about. I feel like a man divided as the duties downstate begin to have their demands on me while I am still up to my eyeballs in work at this place. Planning the move, transfering the inventory and equipment from UIC to SIU, finishing up my teaching, while planning the start up for my lab, interveiw new hires to staff my lab and supervising the rennovations for the department is all nearly too much. All of this on top of my real work-- writing the papers, reviewing the grants and manuscripts, desiinging the experiments and interpreting the data-- the good stuff you know. It is no wonder I feel like I am on thin ice. The ice flow UIC is cracking and breaking away from behind me as I scrambled moving forward trying not to be sucked into the abyss, yet slipping and sliding as I grapple to get across to the other side SIU. Three months and two days the Hales Lab at UIC officially closes it doors. Ok breathe.

teaser

Lady Spring

It is amazing just how warm 32 degrees can feel. That was what the thermometer read this morning at 6:22 as I made my way to Columbus Park to meet my commuting buddies. It was foggy and there were patches of ice here and there, but the warm weather over the weekend did a good job at melting most of the snow pack away. I rode without my neoprene shoe covers and my feet stayed mostly warm, and when I got to work I could still feel my thumbs. Yes sir! On Saturday it was the first really nice day we've had since late November, and we really enjoyed it. Ryder and I walked to the Lincoln school carnival and he was so excited about the warmth of the sun beaming down on us. "too nice of a day to be inside playing the Wii" he declared. The carnival was jammed and throbbing and every single person had a big smile. The beautiful spring-like weather permeated the place, everyone was in a good mood. Even Republicans were smiling. Ryder told me "you know what I call this Dad? Spring!" We agreed to enjoy the lovliness of the day for we know this is only a tease. We have a lot of winter yet to endure, but we have made it through the worst of it. And what a beast its been! A suitable final winter for us in Chicago, the worst one we've had yet. Not as cold as some, and not as much snow as others, but the coldest snowiest and earliest that we can recall. One does blot out the memory of pain.

My heart goes out to the people of Victoria, Australia who are enduing catastrophic fires and ambient temperatures of 47 degrees C which is 117 degrees F. talk about global warming. Yet here in the other hemisphere its been unusually cold. wow. The horror stories of people burning in their cars, trying to flee and getting trapped, then burned as they attempted to drive away-- just awful. Such tragedies really put things into perspective. Angst and worry about stuff we are dealing with pale by comparison. Good luck you Ausies! Please be safe.

anniversaries

Here we are headlong into the 2nd month of 2009 and we pause briefly to consider some of the momentous anniversaries of this year. 20 years ago we moved to Oak Park from Ann Arbor; the same year that the Berlin Wall came down and Exxon Valdez spilled a billion gallons of crude oil in the Alaskan Wilderness, and the earth quake in San Francisco interrupted the World Series. 40 years ago-- Woodstock, man on the moon, Altmont (Give Me Shelter) and the passing of my mother. 50 years ago-- the day the music died. Each of these events elicits a cascade of memories. Well, Buddy Holly dieing did not evoke much in me at the time (I was 5 years old), but the 1971 Don MacLean song sure did make an imprint. I remember so clearly 1969 and what a tumultuous time it was. As I sat on my mother's bed in the hospital watching the news cast of "one small step for mankind..." the cameras panned over the US soldiers in Viet Nam, sitting on their tanks and in their bunkers listening to the radio broadcast of those generation defining words. The Woodstock-- watching the Tonight Show with Crosby, Stills and Nash visiting Johnny Carson, talking about going to Woodstock and what it was all about. I suppose had my mother not just died I might well have been among the multitude in the mud in upstate New York, but then again, maybe not. I was, after all, working on my candidacy to the US Naval Academy... but that is another story. And Altmont. The horror of the Hells Angels beating hapless hippies to death while the Rolling Stones rocked on. I had no affection for the Grateful Dead, yet at the time, but remember hearing that they decided the vibe was just too awful there and they left. And then it was 1989... Maggie Thatcher was the Prime Minister and George H Bush was President. The wall fell and a piece was delivered to Ronnie at his California home. The Exxon Valdez crashed and spilled all that oil because the captain was drunk. Then we moved to Oak Park and we sat watching the World Series listening to Al Michaels make the call when he suddenly had to become a news anchor instead of a sports announcer. Many years hence we will think back on 2009 as the cruel harsh last winter in Chicago, the beginning of the Obama era, the year Blagojavich was impeached, the year I became Chair of the department at SIU and we moved to our new palatial estate.....

other anniversaries of note: 1959 Kind of Blue, Miles Davis the quintessential Jazz album; 1979 Shaw of Iran exiled and the Ayatollah Kohmeni takes over as the US hostages are taken into captivity. And I moved from Boulder to Denver.....

fat tires and cold thumbs

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