Thursday, June 10, 2010

Hawks fans talk about what the win means.

I snagged the following from

Down the street from Joe's, three guys stood together high-fiving passers-by before they headed underground for their shift of work until 4 a.m. Construction workers Gene Surico, of Elburn, Ill., Pablo Vargas, of Chicago and Scott Bodeman, of Deerfield, Ill., each listened to the end of Game 6 on the radio while driving to work. Before starting their shift, they were taking in the scene of honking cars and happy Hawks fans, stopping briefly to celebrate with them. "This is just such a fun team to watch and root for," said Surico, who used to work at the United Center for eight years in the 1990s and saw three of the Bulls' NBA titles in person. "I have to be honest with you. I never thought I'd see this happen in my lifetime ... but then again, I never thought I'd live to see a black president either. But that happened and now this happened. It's pretty amazing."


I'll be blogging about this for days but...

And the highlight last night, one of many, was Jeremy Roenick who played in the 1992 Finals in which the Hawks lost. Now announcing the game, he said to his co-hosts, "...and it's redemption. For that boy back in '92. I saw him, crying when we were leaving the ice..." and he teared up.


I didn't think it would happen in my lifetime.


Monday, June 7, 2010


They are one win away from the first Stanley Cup won by the franchise since 1961. They'll be playing in Philladelphia Wednesday and if, for some god awful reason, they don't win, they'll be back to Chicago for the seventh game on Friday.

I washed my Chicago fleece throw after the second loss in Philly, to wash away the bad mojo. See? It worked.

I've got another little hockey short in the works. I'll publish it to celebrate them winning the Stanley Cup.

Sunday, June 6, 2010

The Catch Trap

The Catch Trap The Catch Trap by Marion Zimmer Bradley

My rating: 5 of 5 stars
I'm interested in what other writers of GLBT think of Marion Zimmer Bradley. I feel almost as if a piece of her got blown into my heart a decade ago. Like a dandelion gone to seed.

The Mists of Avalon was the first Arthurian legend based book that answered the need I had to see strong female characters in my favorite myth. Poor old Lord Tennyson had pretty much destroyed the women of the Round Table for me. Mindless idiots and evil witches. The Mists of Avalon was a sort of redemption.

Bradley was incredibly prolific and I haven't read all of her books. I'm thinking I may get myself down to a local used bookstore and find a few that I've missed.

This one reads, at times, like fan fiction. There are thousands of tiny story arcs shooting off into space while we follow the main three: Family, Flying trapeze history, and illegal love.

The last is handled with such insight and sympathy I am stunned every time I read it. She describes the loneliness, self-hatred and fear. The anger at having to hide this one true and beautiful thing in ones life, as if one is ashamed. And she does it simply and subtly, not hammering it home or making too much of it.

I think it ads to the book to know that one of her husbands was a gay man with whom she had a child. They were eventually divorced, but he and she remained friends. Bradley's deep compassion and love for human beings permeates all of her books. Her women and men are strong, sympathetic, and filled with mutual respect for each other.

The book is over 600 pages long. I've read it twice now. Towards the end, I find myself slowing and reading every page, savoring the world and the characters. This time I waited a week to read the last twenty pages, just to make it last.

I wish I could have met her. Her voice, nonetheless, is one of those that lives in my head.

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Saturday, June 5, 2010

an ominous quiet ...

Hawks lost the last two games. They are now 2/2 in the series going home for game five tomorrow.
We've been watching them play all year and I think we know them well enough to feel forboding and that nasty twinge in the gut with which Chicago sports fans are all too familiar...

I'm writing today and trying not to think about it.