I could have done so many different things with my life.  I could have been a stationary engineer and sat around in a boiler room all day, watching boilers and engines and their progress from off a computer monitor.  I could have signed up for the police academy, done my probation, then gotten a desk job and eaten donuts all day long and grown fat.  I could have gone into Internet marketing and spent my days doing a lot of keyword research.  I could have become an electrician or a carpenter or a fireman or an astronaut or a lifeguard or a Sunday school teacher.  All right, the last two I was exaggerating.  I had as much chance of becoming a fireman or an astronaut as I did of becoming a spy.  I’m not even exactly sure how one becomes a spy, though I assume it has something to do with joining the CIA or being part of the military and then getting drafted into black ops.  But I didn’t join the CIA or the military.  Most of all, I wish I could have been the son of rich parents and then never had to work or worry about money. 

Joe saved my life as well as Donna’s life and Don’s life.  Don was pretty grateful so he got us more tickets to the Boston Red Sox.  Joe and I, for once, decided to have a good time and not think about other people.  Father Rich was in jail along with all of his accomplices.  No one would be getting out in a long time.  The game was good and afterwards, we went to China town to eat a meal.  I told Joe that I thought I had an idea for a column finally for the paper.  He wanted to know what it was.  I told him it was about small town life and how people helped one another in a time of need.  And how most people want that sort of life which is why we seek it out.  I told him that I wanted to write a column, but not for my town.  Not for the Bugle.  But the Pontiac paper.  I said that now that my daughter was at school full time, it made no sense to stay in this area with it s corruption, defrocked priests, crazy senior citizens and raging alcoholics.  I wanted to write a column that took place in a small town.  Or, at the very least, about what a small town should be and how the feelings people have for one another in a small town should be in all towns.  “What  are you going to name it?”  Asked Joe. I thought about the guy with the picket sign outside of the newspaper office.  “Anywhere but here,” I answered then took a sip of my coffee.  Without the scotch.

A good thing to remember is that further north the

Chicago neighborhood

the less it is infested with crime. My parents have lived in the far northwestern neighborhood of Jefferson Park for years and years. My sister moved out, but to a place in Gladstone Park, which is the small neighborhood next door. My brother also moved to a place about 5 minutes away. They’re always harping on me because I moved to Wicker Park. I have no idea hwy it’s such a big deal to them. It’s barely 4 miles away and, if it’s not during rush hour, I can drive to Jefferson Park in 15 minutes if I had to. They act like I moved into another city. My mother’s always saying how my apartment is too big. What kind of complaint is that? If you live by yourself, you’re going to have to pay around 700 or 800 dollars for rent on a decent enough place, so you might as well get a place with a lot of space. What my mother really wants is for me to move into the basement apartment of her house. But that would mean I live in the basement of my parents’ house and that’s just not going to happen.

I love when you travel somewhere and you meet totally new, interesting people. The first place that starts is the airplane. Sometimes people that sit next to me on the airplane are just really chatty people, and by the end of your flight you feel like you know their whole life story. Last month when I flew to Las Vegas I met some guy who manufactures end mills. He owns the factory, and was going to Las Vegas for some type of hardware convention. We both talked about how if you have to travel somewhere for work, Las Vegas is sure hard to beat. Not only do you get to expense your plane tickets, hotel and food, but you get to be in Las Vegas. A free ticket to Las Vegas is really hard to beat. One time when I was camping in Florida I met a couple of people a few years younger than me that attended Florida State. We were camped next to each other, and got to talking and found out that we were all journalists. Now we stay in touch, and often do some writing projects together. It is funny how you go from being complete strangers to working together, but I guess that is just how it works sometimes.

 My brother has a friend that is always taking him to nice places and restaurants, and he always pays. I guess his father has more money than he knows what to do with. When his father was in college, he invented some sort of carbide end mill. He got the patent on it, and made so much money that he retired by the age of thirty-five. I think that would be the life. Not have to work anymore after the age of thirty-five. I would play golf every day that it was nice out, and travel all over the world. As it is, my brother’s friend does travel a lot. They even take my brother a lot of the time. He has gone on a couple of cruises with them, and even to a resort in Hawaii. They also take him to the nicest restaurants, all over Chicago. Many places that I have only read about, and cannot even dream of affording them. I keep telling my brother that he has to bring me back a doggy bag every time he goes to one of those places. I also tell him that he better make a lot of money, because he is already so used to that lifestyle.

My Austin bankruptcy attorney was waiting for me when I got back.  I had taken a quick trip home and just gone fishing, while I tried to think through what I was going to do with my sudden turn of bad fortune.  Business was bad, really bad, and my debts were really, really high.  And getting higher.  I was looking at losing over 20 years worth of hard work.  Still, I didn't feel sorry for myself.  I'm a fighter.  I just wanted to know what to do to avoid having to file.  It was like admitting defeat.  I didn't want to do this.  I dropped a line and waited for the answer to come to me.  I was home for the first time in over ten years.  I drove for an entire day to get there, and it felt good.  I saw some old friends right away, and saw  a lot of changes.  Whole blocks had disappeared in those ten years.  I couldn't believe it.  The house I grew up in was still there, but my family was all gone.  That part depressed me a bit.  But I still felt it was home.  Home was never where I was, but it was a place where I lived.

I am not sure if I will be able to take my vacation in April this year.  I am pondering whether the take it in April like I usually do, I wait until mid May, when I will be able to team up with a couple girlfriends.  We usually try to get together at least once a year and go someplace for a girl getaway, and we leave the guys at home with the kids.  I am hearing from the girls and it seems we are all having a hard time coordinating our schedules this year.  The guys are getting used to keeping the kids, since they have been doing it for several years now.  They were watching a Cleveland Cavaliers game that last time we got together to discuss our getaway plans.  We think it will be a three day cruise.  It all works out because the guys usually get together much more often than we do.  They love to go on fishing trips.  They go for no less than a week at a time.  Sometimes they rent an RV and camp out.  We have all gone on vacation trips like that with the whole family and enjoyed it.