Left to my own devices

T wenty-three years ago today, we buried my dad. I use the collective "we" to imply Lewis's family and friends who were there, though none of us did the actual grave-digging and burial. It was a Tuesday. his visitation had been the previous day, and he'd died on Thursday of the preceding week. All of this occurred in Springfield, IL. I was living in Champaign. The drives to and from the cities on those days felt like the longest drives of my life.  Lewis, who'd been a sergeant in the Vietnam War, is buried in Camp Butler National Cemetery, just outside of Springfield. I'd say his thoughts on his military service were conflicted. Back in the early nineties, at the outbreak of the Persian Gulf War, dad and I had a phone conversation about what was going on. I was nervous about the conflict continuing for years, and the possibility of being drafted once I'd turned 18. I could see the sneer on Lewis's face through the telephone line. "Don't you lo

     I f you live long enough, you see a lot of things change. This can include an evolving urban landscape, where businesses come and go with the times. Among them are movie theaters, part of my favorite trifecta of establishments, along with bookstores and restaurants. In my hometown of Champaign, Illinois, several movie theaters have come and gone during my lifetime -- the Co-Ed Theater that used to be in the heart of campus town. Market Place Cinemas that used to be out by, well, Market Place Mall. Country Fair Theater that used to be a part of the then-bustling Country Fair strip mall. And, of course, the lovely Art Theater, which closed in late 2019 after a century of showing films. The most recent casualty is the Savoy 16. Like most movie theaters, the Savoy closed for the pandemic back in March. This wasn't long after its parent company, Goodrich Quality Theaters (GQT) filed for bankruptcy. Well, GQT has navigated the pandemic waters and is re-opening most of its theaters,

N ate Silver and the folks at 538 unveiled their  forecast model  for the 2020 U.S. presidential election yesterday. You should check it out, if such things interest you. When the model debuted, it gave Biden a 71% chance of winning the election. As of now, it's nudged-up to 72%. As has been noted by 538 (and others) those are same odds they gave Hillary Clinton on Election Day 2016. Take that as you will, but it obviously reinforces the notion that a nearly 30% chance of winning is nothing to take lightly. Unfortunately (or fortunately, depending on your political persuasion), I think that Trump has a decent chance of being re-elected in just under 3 months. It brings me no happiness to believe this, and "decent" isn't solid, or great, but some of my Democratic friends are acting like this election is all but over, and I just can't agree. It all comes down to the Electoral College, and Trump could have an advantage there. You can see above the map I made at 270to

     L ast Saturday I drove to Lafayette, Indiana, ostensibly to look at a car. The deal couldn't be made (hail damage to my current vehicle, which had previously gone unnoticed, needs to be repaired first), so only half of the time there was spent at the dealership. I almost left for home straight afterward but my conscience drew me to Tippecanoe Memory Gardens, a cemetery where the remains of my friend Bret are interred. A fifteen minute drive from the dealership took me to my destination. I'd been there once before, and remembered the columbarium where Bret's remains were kept in a wall crypt. A sign on the door said that the building was locked at 6:00pm daily. I checked my watch and my heart sank at the realization that it was 6:35pm. Thankfully, the doors were still open, so I walked in. The room was empty (of the living, that is, and full of pew-like seats at a slight angle with a center aisle cutting between them. There, at the front, in a small wall crypt, was Bret