Pete Lit

Dorothy & John

I submitted this photo to the wonderful My Parents Were Awesome several weeks ago, but since I've gotten impatient waiting for the site to post it, I thought I'd just go ahead and post it here. That's my parents, Dorothy and John Anderson, during their college years in the late forties. And for the record, though my awesome but late dad is no longer with us, my mom is still thriving and remains quite awesome.

Actual conversation

Maddie: Will you help me fight the dark?
Pete: Sure, but later.
Maddie: There is no 'later' in fighting the dark.

Kickapoo

The foolish young man in this photo is none other than myself, circa 1985. I'm standing on a railroad trestle, about a hundred feet above the Vermilion River in Kickapoo State Park, just outside of Danville, Illinois. It was a single track with no railings or any other safety features other than a single side platform halfway across which one could use to escape from an oncoming train. One had to walk across on just the wooden rail ties, step by careful step, with nothing but empty air beneath. Which, being daring and/or stupid, I did. Though the view was pretty spectacular, in hindsight it probably wasn't worth the risk. My buddy Fred was smart enough to stay off the trestle and instead just take the photograph, which he was kind enough to mail to me recently and remind me what it was like to be young and stupid.

Coffee on the road

During our occasional travels, Julie and I have increasingly sought out local, independent coffee houses for our daily espresso fix. Early on, we'd just take the easy coffee route and head for the nearest Starbucks, but as that chain has steadily declined in quality we've begun to look elsewhere. Here's some good ones we've found.

Java Joe's, Hilton Head Island, South Carolina
Just blocks from the beach, where the ravenous seagulls will be more than happy to rip your scone out your hand if you're not careful. Java Joe's is tiny but comfortable (despite the tight space, we were still able to wheel in Maddie's stroller when she was a baby and park it next to the couch) with plenty of local flavor.

The Green Sage, Asheville, North Carolina
We overnighted in Asheville on our most recent drive to and from Hilton Head, and were quite pleased to find this place. Very organic and crunchy-granola kind of place (even for bohemian Asheville) with very good espresso and great baked goods.

Perkfection, Jeffersonville, Indiana
Espresso here was so-so (though much better than I expected in small-town Indiana) but the food was pretty good. A pleasant stopover during a long car journey.

Mocha, Milwaukee, Wisconsin
Our most recent discovery, and definitely one of our favorites. Great espresso, fine baked goods, plenty of comfy chairs, a nice urban feel and big street windows for people-watching. (Regarding the latter: most of the people in the Westown neighborhood on weekend mornings seem to be female joggers, for some reason. Not sure where the guys were, other than maybe sleeping off the previous night's bender.) 

Drink Coffee, Sister Bay, Wisconsin
When we visited this shop in 2001, it was called DC Coffee and was under different ownership, so I can't really vouch for its present incarnation, but back then the espresso was very good and the cherry scones (cherries being the leading fruit crop in Door County) were wonderful.

Kick Coffee, Sturgeon Bay, Wisconsin
Again, another shop which appears to be under different ownership than when we visited in 2001, so I can't totally vouch for it, but it was good then and has a great location in downtown Sturgeon Bay, doorway to the Door County peninsula.

Cafe Julia, South Haven, Michigan
They brew coffee roasted by Intelligentsia. And have a porch with rocking chairs. Enough said.

If somehow, some way, you can't get enough of me here at Pete Lit...

...I'm also on Facebook, so friend away if you like. Be advised, however, that content is updated there only on weekends, as I can't access Facebook from my work computer during the week. But alas, I don't expect to ever be on Twitter. I already have more than enough ways to waste my time, thanks.

Maddie is a punk rocker

Move aside, Sheena. If any aspiring and very generous punk bands would like to provide free instrumental backing to her vocals, YouTube glory may be imminent.

Message to my fellow Metra commuters

If you want to have a lively, boisterous conversation with your train buddy, then sit right next to them on the train. If you want to blather on with your buddy about the inexorably tedious minutiae of your daily life, then sit right next to them on the train. If you want to tell your buddy about every single delay you experienced last night on the 6:12 train that your buddy didn't experience because they were on the usual 5:25, then sit right next to them on the train. Do not, under any circumstances, sit on opposite sides of the aisle, each of your backs to the wall, as far apart as you can be, and shout back and forth at each other at a decibel level normally reserved for airport ground crews. Especially when I'm sitting right in front of you, trying to concentrate on my reading. Thank you.

10

Ten years ago today, I said "I do" to the love of my life, and I'd eagerly do it all over again.

The Parlor Emerging Writer's Festival

I've been keeping the news under wraps for the last few weeks, but now that it's official I can finally pass it along: I'm very pleased to be invited to read at The Parlor Emerging Writer's Festival. It takes place on Saturday, May 23rd from 4:00-6:30 PM at Green Lantern Gallery, 1511 N. Milwaukee Ave., Chicago.

It’s awesome - we’ve got a great line-up ahead for our Emerging Writer’s Festival on Saturday May 23rd - coincident, as it so happens, with the Pilcrow Lit Fest. Here is the roster - you should come out, it’s free and there’s a BBQ to follow on the back porch.

4:00 pm Sarah Terez Rosenblum - Where She Is
4:30 pm Jeanie Chung – Cuts and Folds
5:00 pm Peter Anderson – One Son Resists
5:30 – 5:45 BREAK
5: 45 pm J.D.K. Goodman – Another Place, Another Time
6:15 pm Jessie Morrison – The Queens of the Northwest Side
6:45 pm BBQ

I'll be reading my story "One Son Resists" which I first wrote several years ago and have put through several heavy-duty revisions since. If you live in the city or happen to be in town for Pilcrow, please thinking about swinging by Green Lantern for some great readings and to say hello.

Fortune Cookie

I had this fortune in a fortune cookie I ate this morning:

"In all matters of opinion, you always say it better."

Though I appreciate the sentiment, I know quite a few people who would vigorously dispute that claim.

Coolest. Toy. EVER.

This beauty came out in 1964. I was born in 1965. I never had one of these. The only possible conclusion? Despite what I thought was a warm, loving, comfortable family life during my early years, I now realize that I was a victim of severe child neglect.

What's your NPR host name?

This is fun.

So finally, after years of Fresh Air sign-off ambitions, we came up with a system for creating our own NPR Names. Here’s how it works: You take your middle initial and insert it somewhere into your first name. Then you add on the smallest foreign town you’ve ever visited.

My name would be Pejter Kleineichen. The town (in Germany) is just a guess, as it's the smallest of two towns I stayed in during a month-long visit to extended family while I was in high school. There may have been other, smaller towns that I visited while sightseeing, but I've long since forgotten their names.

My eight-year-old daughter...

...the entrepreneur. (Explanation here.) And no lemonade stand or pet-sitting service either, but the bare-knuckled, no-holds-barred brawl of online commerce. Yes, her mom will be handling some of the technical details for now, but other than that this is completely Maddie's gig.

The site went up just yesterday, and this morning she made her first sale (which is why there are no items at her site right now - out of stock) and is already taking success in stride. When she heard the news of her first sale, she let out a brief whoop and then quietly said "I'm going to eat my breakfast now." I doubt that Donald Trump marked the closing of his first deal so calmly.

February 12

Happy birthday to three great individuals - Abraham Lincoln, Charles Darwin and my late father, John Anderson. Sure, my dad didn't have the global impact the other two had on humanity, but he still had a huge impact on me and everyone else who knew him. He's the greatest man I've ever known. Here's to you, Dad.

Incidentally, my grandfather was so impressed by my dad's birth date that he wanted the boy to be named Abraham Lincoln Anderson. My grandmother's clearer head prevailed, and my grandfather had to settle for my dad being nicknamed Abe, which is what his siblings and relatives called him for the rest of his life.

Free Candy!

The missus is giving away some Q.bel chocolate bars over at Chocolate Blog, one of her numerous Internet properties. Q.bel is very good stuff - I just had one for my lunch dessert - so I recommend that you rush over there and enter.

(No, the giveaway has nothing to do with Seinfeld or George Costanza. But when I thought of the subject line for this post I couldn't help remembering the infamous "stolen Twix Bar" episode of the show. That photo above is, sadly, not from that episode. I hoped to find a photo that at least showed George in a severely agitated state comparable to the one he was in when he discovered that all of his Twix bars had been eaten - but had no success doing so. Damned Internet.)

Her

Tis the season. Try one of your own.

99 things

Via (and Viva!) Julie:

Things you’ve already done: bold
Things you want to do: italicize
Things you haven’t done and don’t want to - leave in plain font

1. started your own blog
2. slept under the stars
3. played in a band (it was marching band, but still...)
4. visited Hawaii
5. watched a meteor shower
6. given more than you can afford to charity
7. been to Disneyland/world
8. climbed a mountain
9. held a praying mantis
10. sang a solo
11. bungee jumped
12. visited Paris
13. watched a lightning storm at sea
14. taught yourself an art from scratch
15. adopted a child
16. had food poisoning
17. walked to the top of the statue of liberty
18. grown your own vegetables
19. seen the Mona Lisa in France
20. slept on an overnight train
21. had a pillow fight
22. hitch hiked
23. taken a sick day when you’re not ill (forgive me IBM, for I have sinned)
24. built a snow fort
25. held a lamb
26. gone skinny dipping
27. run a marathon
28. ridden a gondola in Venice
29. seen a total eclipse
30. watched a sunrise or sunset
31. hit a home run (career total: 4)
32. been on a cruise
33. seen Niagara Falls in person
34. visited the birthplace of your ancestors (Dalsland, Sweden)
35. seen an Amish community
36. taught yourself a new language
37. had enough money to be truly satisfied
38. seen the leaning tower of Pisa in person (if you count the replica in Niles, Illinois)
39. gone rock climbing
40. seen Michelangelo’s David in person
41. sung karaoke (The horror! The horror!)
42. seen old faithful geyser erupt
43. bought a stranger a meal in a restaurant
44. visited Africa
45. walked on a beach by moonlight
46. been transported in an ambulance
47. had your portrait painted
48. gone deep sea fishing (and was quite seasick)
49. seen the Sistine Chapel in person
50. been to the top of the Eiffel Tower in Paris
51. gone scuba diving or snorkeling
52. kissed in the rain
53. played in the mud (but not recently)
54. gone to a drive-in theater
55. been in a movie
56. visited the Great Wall of China
57. started a business
58. taken a martial arts class
59. visited Russia
60. served at a soup kitchen
61. sold girl scout cookies
62. gone whale watching
63. gotten flowers for no reason
64. donated blood
65. gone sky diving
66. visited a Nazi concentration camp
67. bounced a check (I think)
68. flown in a helicopter
69. saved a favorite childhood toy (Barry!)
70. visited the Lincoln Memorial
71. eaten caviar
72. pieced a quilt
73. stood in times square
74. toured the everglades
75. been fired from a job (downsized, yes, but never singled out)
76. seen the changing of the guard in London
77. broken a bone (cracked skull)
78. been on a speeding motorcycle
79. seen the grand canyon in person (and whitewater-rafted through it)
80. published a book (and soon, dammit!)
81. visited the Vatican
82. bought a brand new car
83. walked in Jerusalem
84. had your picture in the newspaper (River Valley Clarion, circa 1978)
85. read the entire bible
86. visited the White House
87. killed and prepared an animal for eating (fish)
88. had chickenpox
89. saved someone’s life
90. sat on a jury
91. met someone famous (not exactly A-list celebrities, though)
92. joined a book club
93. lost a loved one (way too many times)
94. had a baby
95. seen the Alamo in person
96. swum in the Great Salt Lake
97. been involved in a law suit
98. owned a cell phone (grudgingly)
99. been stung by a bee

Encouraging your kids

My wife Julie passes along this great story about our daughter Maddie, LEGOS and Pokemon. Although Julie is Maddie's primary homeschool teacher, I too have heard Maddie's "I can't do it" lament on many occasions. The Cleffa story is a wonderful lesson in how important it is to encourage your kids in whatever they do, to help them overcome their initial fear of failure and to ultimately succeed - and by "succeed" I don't necessarily mean to accomplish a specific task, which kids usually won't do on the first try. Instead, they can succeed simply by making the effort and, if they fail, understanding how important it is to try again. As I mentioned in the comments, I couldn't be prouder of my little girl - not just for succeeding, but for having the courage to try.

The background image on my laptop screen is Samuel Beckett's famous quotation, "Never mind. Try again. Fail again. Fail better." Maddie has asked me about this quote several times but I don't think I've been able to adequately explain it to her yet. With age I'm sure she'll understand and appreciate the imperative to not worry about failures, but instead to keep trying and get a little bit better each time.

Us

Yes, you're absolutely right...we're quite adorable.

Orange Alert!

Jason Behrends, the tireless and astoundingly productive proprietor of What To Wear During an Orange Alert? and fledgling publisher Orange Alert Press was kind enough to interview me on various writer topics, including blogging, promotion vs. self-promotion, fiction research, print vs. online journals, handling rejection and what I'm working on, plus shout-outs for some of my favorite litblogs, rock bands and the ever-glorious Intelligentsia Coffee. Please check it out.

(Mr. Tanzer and Mr. Ostdick, I patiently await your return hype.)

Words to live by

I saw this somewhere over the weekend, but don't remember where or even the exact words, so I'll just paraphrase without attribution:

"In this economic climate, love the job you're with."

I'm taking these words to heart. I'm not at all enamored with my current job situation, but after being briefly unemployed last year (under considerably better economic conditions and while collecting full severance pay and having health insurance) I will readily admit that my employment sure beats the alternative. So I'm grinning and bearing, but also keeping an eager eye on the next step.

Julie and I make our cinematic debut.

Critics will probably dismiss this as digressive and emotionally overwrought, but I think it captures our artistic vision extremely well.

My little Pokemon trainer

Actually, not so little any longer. Sigh.

Unexpected pleasure

I didn't realize until just yesterday that weeding our big and unruly flower beds can actually be enjoyable, with just the right musical accompaniment. I hauled the old boombox outside, hooked up a long extension cord and extricated rogue grasses and clover to the incomparable strains of Television's Marquee Moon and Tom Waits' Swordfishtrombones. And after the work was done, I relaxed on the front steps in the setting sun, finished the last of my icewater and listened a second time to Waits' hauntingly lovely "A Soldier's Things". Life, as they say, is good.

Quote

"Every father goes through an experience when he’s a hero today and an old man the next."
-William Delaney, 1960 Chicago Father of the Year

Preach it, brother.

Nine years!

Julie and I sealed the deal nine years ago today - June 12, 1999, one of the two or three nicest days of my life.

(Man, get a load of that photo. I practically looked like a kid back then. That certainly was quite a few follicles ago.)

New bird in town

For the past week we've been enjoying watching a new visitor to our backyard. (Visitor for now and, I'm hoping, soon-to-be permanent resident.) Last Sunday morning I was gazing through our kitchen window when a flurry of motion caught my eye. I saw a bird I had never seen before, with striking cinnamon-colored feathers on its back. It was about the same size as a robin, and scurried around like a robin, so at first I assumed it was a juvenile of that species which had not yet attained its trademark red breast. But through binoculors I was struck by the sight of this bird's breast, which was marked by brown spots. So I consulted our bird book and quickly realized it wasn't a young robin at all, and finally decided that it had to be a brown thrasher. It's a truly beautiful bird, and has also been very fun to watch - it's very energetic and feisty (often at the expense of our robins), and while it spent the first few days rooting around in the soil for worms and bugs, it soon took a liking to the birdseed in the feeder.

Since I had never seen a brown thrasher around here, I assumed this one was migrating and just passing through, and would be gone soon. But a week has now passed, and the bird is still here. And just last night, we saw a second brown thrasher in the yard, so we're crossing our fingers that this is a mating pair that will make our backyard their home. I'm certainly going to keep that feeder filled as an enticement to the two of them.

By the way, that photo above isn't mine, but a stock photo from Wikipedia (full-sized image here) that gives a much better up-close look than I could take on my own.

Quote

"You're a writer and a financial analyst. I'm calling a mason."
- My wife Julie, after hearing my most recent vow to repair the garden wall that collapsed three years ago and still remains unfixed

"That's a mighty fine Goose."

Well, this news thoroughly blows: Goose Island loses lease, to close its Clybourn spot.

It's truly sad that Goose Island and its landlord can't come to terms on a new lease, especially given the fact the brewpub was a true pioneer for the commercial redevelopment of the Clybourn Corridor area. When Goose Island opened in 1988 (in a former Turtle Wax factory, of all things), the neighborhood was pretty dicey. Now that the area has exploded, Goose Island is on its way out.

I've got a lot of great memories of that place, most notably:

+ Office Christmas parties in 1988 and 1989, with the second one immortalized when two over-indulged co-workers took a strong liking to a plastic, interior-lighted goose on display on a counter. The goose was spied from the adjacent tap room several times during the evening, prompting one of said individuals to repeat the phrase in quotation marks above. So great was their admiration for this object of dubious aesthetic merit that, at last sufficiently fortfied and emboldened by the tenth or twelfth microbrewed draft of the evening, they finally marched over to the counter, concealed the goose under a coat and snuck it out through the back door. Although I categorically deny any knowledge of who either of these nerfarious individuals might be, I've heard rumors that the goose's residence has alternated between their two homes ever since.

+ My going-away party when I left NBD in 1991 to return to grad school. Highlights were a) a male co-worker drinking out of female co-worker's shoe; and b) the evening ending with that same male carrying that same female out of the building, slung over his shoulder. The male was married, and the female single, and I can only guess what happened after that. Whatever it might have been, it would have occurred in a Toyota Celica. (Ewww.)

+ My wife's going-away party after she quit her job at this horrible equipment leasing company which happened to be in the same neighborhood. She and her soon-to-be-former co-workers arrived in midafternoon, but I only got there after driving back from my job in the suburbs. By the time I got there the only ones left were her and this goofy guy Jim, who was the only other normal person in the company and who quite valiantly kept her sane for the last several months she worked there. The three of us stayed for several more rounds, ruthlessly mocking the other employees.

+ Stopping in with Julie for a quick dinner last summer after my first-ever public reading. The mood was pleasantly celebratory, and the food and drink was as good as ever.

Good times, good times. While I wish Goose Island the best of luck finding a new location in the area, for me it will never be the same.

Intimations of Mortality from Recollections of Early Adulthood*

Yesterday marked a significant turning point in my life. Now, for the first time since I was 19 years old - I'm now 42 - I am without a stereo. It's been a long time coming, but yesterday finally settled the matter. Last fall we had major renovations done on our family room, with new hardwood floors installed and the room repainted. In preparation we cleared everything out of the room, which included my disassembling the stereo that resided in the entertainment cabinet. The stereo was stored in the sun porch (which is closed off for the winter) along with other items from the family room, but even though the work was finished by November, I never got around to putting all the stuff back. Yesterday I finally did so, with everything put back in place but the stereo. It sat there, dusty and forlorn, on the dining room floor as I inwardly debated what to do with it.

That stereo had been a big part of my life for the better part of two decades. It was my first major purchase as an independent adult. After getting by with an inherited turntable and cheap speakers (no receiver or tape deck) during my freshman year in college, during the following summer I went to Pacific Stereo in Schaumburg and splurged on what was then a pretty nice setup - an Onkyo analog receiver, Technics turntable, Sony cassette deck and a wonderfully oversized pair of EPI speakers. Though I upgraded in later years, replacing the Sony with a Nakamichi deck and entering the digital age in 1989 with a Denon CD player, that orignal core setup was the source of untold hours of listening pleasure. Whenever I would move into a new apartment, the stereo would be the first thing taken out and set up. Clothes might not be unpacked for a few days, and kitchen utensils for weeks or even months, but from my first hour in that apartment the stereo would be fully functional and most likely cranking out music as I settled into the new digs. At one time I could have told you the first music I played in any given new place, and though I've forgotten the rest by now I can still reliably report that when I moved into my apartment in Roscoe Village in 1996 the first thing I listened to was a sampler disc from CMJ New Music Monthly that included the Apples in Stereo, which was soon supplemented by The Lounge Ax Defense and Relocation Compact Disc which was purchased on the evening of my move.

In short, that stereo was my constant companion which, due to its complete unportability, meant I was home a lot. As much as I like to fondly recall the few crazy nights of too much drinking and too little responsible behavior from those days, for the most part I was a homebody. Which is all fine. It's who I am, and who I'll always be. That stereo got me through countless hours that were solitary but not necessarily lonely.

Which brings us to yesterday. My passion for music is nowhere near what it once was, and though I still listen a lot I do so almost exclusively online, or with my iPod or laptop, or in the car. The stereo has languished during recent years, especially since my daughter was born, as I've opted for the more modern and convenient modes of listening. As I looked at the stereo sitting there on the dining room floor, wires disconnected and looking quite aged, I finally realized that its time had passed. One by one I lugged the components up to the attic, where I returned them safely to their original boxes which I've kept for all these years. So while I haven't discarded the stereo completely, up there in the attic it's very much out of sight, out of mind, and most likely I'll never listen to it again.

As I undertook this sober act yesterday, my wife sensed what was going on inside my head. I finally made an attempt at a lighthearted comment, saying in mock-solemn tones that I had reached a major turning point in my life. She was an English major in college, and in response she laughed and said "Oh, okay, Prufrock." She specifically cited Eliot's line "Do I dare to eat a peach?", which got me thinking of the entire stanza. A quick perusal of the Norton Anthology brought these once-familiar verses back to mind:

I grow old…I grow old...
I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled.

Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach?
I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach.
I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.

I do not think that they will sing to me.

Quite a reflection on aging and mortality, that was. But never mind. Despite the somber mood of all of the above, there's no need to worry about me. I've moved on with my life. And I'll still hear the mermaids singing, each to each - just not via my Onyko TX-21 analog receiver.

(*My deepest apologies to Wordsworth. The Prufrock comment got me nostalgic for the few poems I remember from my British lit class. Here's to you, Dr. Cole, wherever you are.)

Fight childhood cancer! Donate to St. Baldrick's!

Several people have asked me if I'm doing St. Baldrick's again this year. The quick answer is no, but please continue reading. My friends, family and longtime blog readers should be very familiar with St. Baldrick's by now, but for everyone else here's a quick synopsis.

St. Baldrick's Foundation is a charitable organization which raises funds for clinical research and treatment of childhood cancer. Despite tremendous progress made over the years, cancer remains the single most deadly disease for children. Every year, in the months leading up to St. Patrick's Day, thousands of St. Baldrick's volunteers solicit donations which are passed along to several hundred medical institutions involved in research and treatment of childhood cancer. Since its inception in 2000, St. Baldrick's has raised over $34 million in donations for cancer research, with annual totals escalating rapidly as the group's exposure has widened dramatically. As part of the fundraising process, just before St. Patrick's Day there are also St.Baldrick's events scheduled at dozens of public locations at which the volunteers (men AND women) have their heads shaved as a show of solidarity with child cancer patients, many of whom lose their hair from chemotherapy treatments.

I participated in St. Baldrick's from 2004 through 2007, raising over $5,000 in donations from generous souls like yourselves, despite my nearly complete lack of sales and/or coercive skills. However, for reasons I can't quite explain, I never got around to registering for this year's event despite the fact that I still firmly believe in St. Baldrick's and the fight against childhoood cancer. But just because I'm not directly participating this year doesn't mean that you can't donate to the cause, and thus I strongly encourage all of you to consider making a tax-deductible donation. No amount is too small, and every little bit helps. Every dollar raised gets us that much closer to curing childhood cancer.

If you're interested, you can donate online with a credit card, or you can mail a check (payable to "St. Baldrick's Foundation") to:

St. Baldrick's Foundation
1443 E. Washington Boulevard, #650
Pasadena, CA 91104-2650

To all donors, my sincerest thanks!

By the way, I fully intend to resume my participation in St. Baldrick's next year, complete with the regular badgering of everyone I know for donations, and the public shearing of my already balding scalp. Meanwhile, though I won't be getting sheared at a formal St. Baldrick's event this year, over the weekend I'll shave my head in St. Baldrick's honor and post my photo here.

Be still...

...my writer-geek, ephemera-craving heart: Typewriter Ribbon Tin Collection. Writing-related AND with gorgeous graphic design. Ooh la la.

During our last visit to the local antique shop I put Julie on notice that I have an eye out for a vintage manual typewriter to be acquired for purely aesthetic, dust-gathering purposes. Picking up a few of these beauties might keep me sated for a while until that perfect Royal or Underwood comes along.

(Via Coudal.)

In Praise of Potica

My wife Julie salutes "a true cottage industry". Looks like I already have this evening's dessert all lined up.

First Lines Meme

Let the year-end recaps begin. Although I haven't been formally tagged, I saw this meme on Kate's Book Blog and realized I hadn't indulged in a meme post in a while. So here it is: the first line from the first post from each month of the past year.

January: In what is surely the result of some bizarrely devious link-clicking bot whose purpose I can't even begin to fathom, my story "Ectoplasm" was the most-downloaded story at Storyglossia during 2006.

February: She came home from college one day and announced, from out of nowhere, that she was quitting school.

March: The Writer's Almanac from Minnesota Public Radio notes that today is the birthday of an unusually large number of notable poets (Lowell, Wilbur, Nemerov, Hass) but it's this item that really grabbed my attention:

April: The other day I was saddened to discover that Naperville's charming Bookzeller (which I've lauded here previously) has closed.

May: Now that I've finally started to read Atonement (thus giving my wife one less reason to doubt my literary taste and/or sanity), I can finally pass along this link that I've been sitting on for the last few weeks: the trailer for the film adaptation of McEwan's acclaimed novel.

June: The Spring Books Special issue of the Chicago Reader includes my short review of Aaron Petrovich's very fine novella, The Session.

July: I'm currently reading Sherwood Anderson's Winesburg, Ohio and am enjoying it quite a bit.

August: Does Bob Mould have a book inside of him, eager to emerge?

September: Like many small industrial cities of the early 20th Century, Joliet was home to a handful of automobile manufacturers, very small outfits which were destined to last only a few years.

October: Once again, it seems that the Illinois Department of Transportation, or IDOT, needs one more "I" in its name.

November: BibliOdyssey: Amazing Archival Images From the Internet, from the truly amazing website of the same name.

December: "A large gleaming machine with an opening at one end was wheeled in, and once again the cycle ran its Micronite Filter."

Let's see: self-promotion, a short story, admired author, indie bookstore, movie trailer, self-promotion, book excerpt, admired musician, local history, political rant, book lust, link to someone else's blog. Yes, that pretty much encapsulates Pete Lit.

So now, to follow standard blog protocol, I'm tagging three others with this meme: Julie, Tim and Ed.

Apologies

It's been brought to my attention that I hadn't posted to the blog in a while, so much so that the person in question was concerned for my well-being. Rest assured, all is well. Trouble is, my desk setup in my new office (wide-open cubicle with zero privacy) makes posting damned near impossible. I can barely get away with reading other people's blogs as it is - I have to make a conspicuous effort of only reading blogs while eating lunch at my desk, as if to say "Hey, stuffy employer, if I went out to lunch I'd be out for an hour. I'm giving you a break by brown-bagging my lunch at my desk, so cut me some slack on me reading a few blogs while eating my PB&J."

For the indefinite future - at least until I find another job - my posting will largely be confined to a few posts on the weekends, with the rare midweek post. If you haven't heard from me here in a while, drop me an email or something.

Uncle Knows Best

My friend and fellow writer Richard Grayson remembers his uncle, the renowned klezmer clarinetist Dave Tarras.

When I was a kid, Uncle Dave lived on Tilden Avenue in East Flatbush, just across the street from Tilden High School (closed last June and broken up into smaller schools). At one point my mother decided I should have clarinet lessons and Uncle Dave came over and gamely tried to instruct me.

But I have no musical ability whatsoever and I hated the taste of the reed in my mouth. Although I loved Uncle Dave and wanted to please him, whatever came out of my clarinet must have sounded like a catfight.

After just a few weeks, he said, "You don’t like this, do you?"

I shook my head.

"What do you like to do?"

"I don’t know. . . writing?"

"Then you should write." He went downstairs and told my mother the clarinet was not for me.

I wish my own uncles were as understanding. When I was scraping around after grad school, jobless and living with my parents, my California uncle repeatedly mailed me the help wanted ads from the San Jose Mercury - because he loves California so much that he thinks everyone in the world should live there - and my Ohio uncle tried to recruit me into selling Amway. Thanks, no, I replied both times, as diplomatically as possible.

Happy, happy birthday to me*

I'm feeling thankful for the small things today. Or yesterday, actually.

Yesterday was my birthday, never mind how many years I was celebrating. (Hint: I've now reached the legal drinking age, twice.) I'm usually impossible to shop for, especially after my wife Julie already hit the gift jackpot with the iPod she gave me two years ago and the laptop last year. My general take on gifts is that there's really nothing I need, and if I wanted something badly enough I'd just buy it for myself and not wait until my birthday for it. So this year I insisted that no gifts were necessary.

So instead, I indulged myself by taking the day off from work. Then I sat in my easy chair and surfed the web for far too many hours, most of them with my daughter Maddie charmingly hovering nearby. Then in mid-afternoon we were off to Dan's Candies for the autumn tradition of caramel apples, followed by stops at the new digs of our local used book store Book Market (where I gleefully picked up Nathanael West's Miss Lonelyhearts/The Day of the Locust, Mark Costello's The Murphy Stories and Cormac McCarthy's All the Pretty Horses) and B&N (where I picked up the summer issue of Bookforum - not sure why it was still on the shelf, with the fall issue now being out). Back at home, we had excellent carryout from Fat Terry's Rib Crib and an Eli's cheesecake for my birthday dessert.

A wonderful day all around. Julie kept saying it didn't seem like it was an exciting birthday for me, but it was exactly the way I wanted it.

(*Which, of course, refers to this.)

Quite True!

From this week's fortune cookie:

"A man (sic) best possession is a sympathetic wife."

And, in my case, a very patient one, too.

Proud Papa

As enjoyable as the RAGAD reading was, it wasn't the single most gratifying part of my weekend. So if you'll be so kind, please indulge me while I pass along a Proud Papa moment.

When Julie and I went into the city on Saturday night for the reading, we left our six-year-old daughter Maddie with her Aunt Heidi and her cousin Landon, who also live in Joliet. We got back to Joliet around 11 p.m. and went to pick up Maddie. Heidi let us in, and back in Landon's bedroom we found Maddie and Landon both sitting on his bed, Landon's eyes glued to a Pixar DVD while Maddie scribbled intently in a Hello Kitty journal which, we learned, she had gotten that evening at McDonald's. We asked her what she was doing, and she said she was writing a book. (Actually, she writes little books all the time, but this time she was particularly intent on doing so.) We finally convinced her to go home, and we said our goodbyes and proceeded to our car. Maddie climbed in the back seat, buckled herself in and continued writing, even in the pitch blackness. When we got home she found the nearest chair, sat down and continued writing, even though it was hours past her bedtime and she was exhausted from her very long day. I finally convinced her to go to bed. Then the next morning she got up, returned to that same chair, and continued writing until the book was finished.

Although I have not yet read the book, it appears to be graphic novel of sorts, titled Hello Kitty Worlds & Fields. Regardless of the literary merits of the book (which I'm certain is precociously endearing), I can't begin to describe how proud I am to witness her devotion and focus in creating it. I'm sure she would have stayed up all night to finish writing her book had I not talked her into going to bed, showing much more writerly diligence than I've ever practiced myself. Though I had inklings of such before, now I'm convinced we have another writer in the family, and I couldn't be happier with this coming to pass.

We now return you to my regularly scheduled crabby cynicism.

Over and Out

I'm going on blogging hiatus for a little while, as we're spending the rest of this week on a well-deserved vacation at Hilton Head before I start my new job on Monday. I'll be completely offline until Sunday, and after that I really can't foresee being able to blog at work (which has been my most productive blogging locale up until now) for quite some time. So whatever blogging you see here for the next few months will probably be confined to bursts of pent-up posts on the weekends. Bear with me, and enjoy (hopefully) quality over the usual quantity.

Behold the Chocolate Pundit

My wife Julie, the chocolate connoisseur, is now a media-anointed Chocolate Authority, courtesy of Bloomberg.

Julie Anderson, 37, of Joliet, Illinois, eats chocolate at least once a day and occasionally writes up her thoughts on a blog (www.boogaj.com/chocolate_blog). She says there is distinct taste difference when other fats are used for cocoa butter.

"Any product that doesn't have the cocoa butter doesn't taste as good and doesn't feel the same on your tongue,'' said Anderson, who wrote to the FDA opposing the change. "A high-quality chocolate, when you put it in your mouth, it melts and becomes very silky. With hydrogenated oils, it feels kind of waxy or greasy.''

Lest that first sentence cast any aspersions, I must point out that she works out intensely five days a week and keeps a very modest diet, thus retaining her girlish figure while still occasionally sating her sweet tooth.

Spring Has Sprung

"...like a glimpse of paradise across a dull and bitter land..."

Corned Beef and Soda Bread and Stout, Oh My!

The wife has blogged about our St. Patrick's Day feast. (We're stay-at-home types. No braving Amateur Night for us.) Mmmm, that was some goooood eating.

St. Baldrick's -- Thank You!!!

Once again, my heartfelt thanks go out to everyone who donated to St. Baldrick's on my behalf. Including cash and checks, I was able to raise $1,246 in donations this year, just topping my $1,200 goal. The fight against childhood cancer is a never-ending battle, and I'm glad to be able to help the cause in any way that I can. I truly appreciate your continued support.

That photo above is my "after" shot which, believe me, despite its general gruesomeness actually looks much better than me with hair. I always try to have a decent head of hair going by the time St. Baldrick's rolls around, to give the barber something moderately worth cutting off. As a result, I hadn't cut my hair since October, and it was looking pretty sloppy on Friday morning. I think my wife Julie is quite relieved that it's finally all cut off.

Thanks again, everybody!

St. Baldrick's - One More Plea!

As I announced earlier, this Friday I'm having my head shaved to support St. Baldrick's Foundation and CureSearch in the fight against childhood cancer. My donations currently total $1,191 -- a mere $9 shy of my $1,200 fundraising goal for this year. (The total listed on my St. Baldrick's page doesn't include cash donations.) I need just one more donation to put me over the top.

If you've already donated on my behalf, thank you once again. And if you haven't donated but might be leaning toward doing so, there's still plenty of time. You can donate online here. (If you want to donate with check or cash instead, just let me know.) I'll even sweeten the pot a bit. The next person to donate and put me over the $1,200 goal will not only gain my eternal gratitude, but also their choice of one of the following books:

Roddy Doyle - A Star Called Henry
Jonathan Raban - Bad Land: An American Romance
Alan Jacobs - The Narnian: The Life and Imagination of C. S. Lewis
Asne Seierstad - A Hundred and One Days: A Baghdad Journal
Dave Eggers - You Shall Know Our Velocity!

The book will be free, and I'll even cover the shipping charges. If you're the winning donor, I'll follow up for your mailing address. Thanks, everyone!

Getting bald(er) to fight childhood cancer!

Once again this year, I'm having my head shaved in support of St. Baldrick's Foundation, which raises funds for CureSearch, a great organization which supports research and treatment of childhood cancer. This will be the fourth year I've participated in St. Baldrick's, and so far I've raised more than $3,000 for CureSearch, and since its inception St. Baldrick's has raised over $20 million. Despite great progress made during recent years, more children in the U.S. die of cancer than any other disease, with 160,000 new childhood cases worldwide each year. I'm doing whatever I can to help fight this terrible disease, and hope you will, too.

CureSearch's 200 member institutions represent every pediatric cancer program in North America, with its network of 5,000 physicians, nurses and scientists working in laboratories and hospitals conducting childhood cancer research, identifying cancer causes and pioneering new treatments and cures. This network treats and supports 90% of children with cancer in North America. CureSearch's work is credited with the rapid scientific progress in the treatment of children with cancer over the past 50 years. Though once considered fatal, childhood cancer is now curable overall in 78% of childhood cancer patients. With continued funding and advances in research, CureSearch believes the survival rate can be raised to 85% by 2008.

So great progress is being made, but we still have a long way to go, which is where I (and you!) come in. On Friday, March 16, I will be having my head shaved at Fado Irish Pub (100 W. Grand Ave., in Chicago). Head-shaving is a symbolic gesture which shows support to childhood cancer patients, many of whom lose their hair during chemotherapy treatment. I would greatly appreciate it if you would make a donation to St. Baldrick's on my behalf. Donations are tax-deductible and benefit a truly great cause.

If you would like to donate with a credit card online, by phone or by mail, you can do so on my page at the St. Baldrick's website. Or if you'd like to donate with a personal check or cash instead, just contact me (pete_anderson [at] comcast [dot] net) and we'll make the necessary arrangements.

As always, if you’d like to attend the event at Fado, I’d love to have you join me for a beer and a good laugh at my expense. Though I don’t know the exact time of my shearing, it will probably be sometime in the early afternoon. The event is always a lot of fun—there’s plenty of ongoing raffles, silent auctions with great prizes, etc.

If you have any questions, just let me know. Thanks in advance!

Mouse in da House

Quite a stir around la casa last night, as we trapped/killed a mouse in our kitchen. Julie discovered the mouse a few days ago (yes, she shrieked, but didn't dance on a chair in high heels like in the old cartoons) when it popped out from behind the microwave, ran along the counter and disappeared into a heating vent that's built into the countertop just above the old radiator. Julie bought some traps, and I put one of them down behind the counter, on the floor next to the radiator. One night later, our quarry was snared. (We're hoping he was a bachelor with no progeny.)

Lest any members of PETA or some other animal-rights group decry my inhumane treatment of said rodent, let me point out the following:

1) He enjoyed a savory taste of peanut butter immediately before his demise.
2) His death appears to have been instantaneous (broken neck), since the trap was barely moved and there was no blood. Hence, no suffering.
3) Had I live-trapped him, what exactly would I have done with him? If I released him outside he would undoubtedly have found his way right back inside again.
4) During the winter, I'm more than happy to let mice have the run of our detached garage (we park our cars outside anyway), but once they've come inside my house, they've crossed the line.

(Incidentally, if I really wanted to stretch the truth and justify my actions, I could further claim that using a trap gave the mouse a much better fate than succumbing to the teeth of our two ferocious predator cats. But that would be a lie, since neither cat is particularly cat-like with respect to mouse-hunting. Our older cat Mud (who bagged two mice in her youth, to Julie's undying appreciation) showed no interest in this mouse whatsoever, while our younger cat Spike, who was very interested in the mouse (he spent hours in the kitchen, staring at the cabinets, undoubtedly intrigued by the scratching sounds emanating from underneath) is quite the pacifist. He doesn't even eat bugs, but just stares at them and occassionally pats them playfully with his paw.)

Anybody who has any qualms with our decision is welcome, should another mouse invade our house, to come to Joliet, live-trap the mouse and take it home with them as a cherished family pet. But if you're not willing to do so, then keep your objections to yourself.

Egad, Another Year Already...

Photography goes from the sublime to the ridiculous, as the wife is kind enough to post this photo in honor of my birthday.

I was having a good sleep in my car
In the parking lot of the Showboat Casino hotel
I said, "I remember you, you drive like a PTA mother"
You brought me draft beer in a plastic cup

I'm feeling thankful for the small things today
I'm feeling thankful for the small things today

Happy, Happy Birthday to me
Happy Birthday to me and to you

I remember you, I crashed your wedding
With some orange crepe paper and some Halloween candy
Sometimes I wish I were Catholic, I don't know why
I guess I'm happy to see your face at a time like this

Happy, Happy Birthday to me
Happy Birthday to me and to you

--David Lowery, "Happy Birthday to Me"

Finally, there's hope for me...

Who needs Rogaine, anyway?

Booga Talk, Episode 2

Episode 2 of Booga Talk--the podcast which convincingly answers the question, "What happens if you record an over-tired married couple's attempt at topical witty banter?"--is now ripe for the plucking. My apologies in advance to Michael Schaub, Kinky Friedman, Willie Nelson and every other rational, levelheaded, compassionate, non-fratboy-voting Texan.