Friday, November 6, 2026

Walking the Walk and Compassion for Campers Update for November 6 2026

Look for new opportunities for action, education, community, and solidarity in and around McHenry County here every week.  

                                                                            Walking the Walk  


Thanks for defending Democracy and voting your values.  You made a difference--a big difference.

There are two ways to move the needle to big change--mass direct action like recent No Kings events and at the polls.  Your focused efforts exceeded all expectations.  Yet the battle remains on as long as long as our delusional dictator is on the loose.  Take your bows, but keep your marching boots ready.


On Saturday, November 7 at 9 am as the Rotary Club of Woodstock dedicates a new community Peace Pole in honor of longtime fellow Rotarian, John Hudson.  The dedication will take place at Rotary Triangle, Illinois Rt. 120 at North Madison and Newell Streets and will last approximately 30 minutes. This is a special opportunity not only to recognize John and his decades of commitment to peace and understanding. The Peace Pole will display the message "May Peace Prevail on Earth" in English, Spanish, Polish and Tagalog, reflecting both the diversity of Woodstock and the universal nature of its message. 


McHenry County based Veterans Path to Peace will host an Open House to show off their new Landing House serving Lake County at 15 Commerce Drive, Suit 116 in Grayslake.

Two opportunities to observe Transgender Day of Remembrance.


Tree of Life Unitarian Universalist Congregation will host a non-sectarian and inclusive Vespers Service  at 7 pm on Friday, November 20 at McHenry County College.  Free and open to the public.


Woodstock Pride will host a Trans Day of Remembrance Gathering on Friday, November 20, 7-9 pm.  "Join us in gathering together in remembrance of transgender individuals. We will begin with a candlelight vigil in front of Woodstock City Hall and then walk to the Woodstock Pride Community Center, 101 North Johnson Street, for attendees to have the opportunity to share their experiences and speak at the event. Feel free to prepare a few words, recite a poem, sing a song or speak if you are so moved.  Candles and light refreshments will be provided.  


Compassion for Campers


Thanks to our partners at harm reduction program Live4Lali, Compassion for Campers is able to resume serving the unhoused and housing insecure in McHenry County with distributions on the First and Third Fridays of the month.  Our next distribution will be this Friday, November 6 from 10 am to Noon at their offices at 665 W. Jackson Unit C2 in Woodstock and then on November 20. We will be able to use the space until at least the end of 2026 or until a search to find a new location for the whole McHenry County Resource Center program to find a new location.  


One way to support our mission is to participate in the Tree of Life UU Congregation (TOLUUC) Service Auction: Serving Looks & Raising Funds on Saturday, November 14 at 5 pm at our shared space at Ridgefield/Crystal Lake Presbyterian Church (RCLPC), 8505 Church Street in Ridgefield and online starting Sunday, November 1.  The Live and Silent Auction supports the staff and mission of TOLUUC and four great community partners including C4C, Crystal Lake Pride, Family Health Partnership Clinic, and Veterans Path to Hope.  "November 14 will be huge fun! Ron Relic will return as our very entertaining and experienced auctioneer, we will have fun, family-friendly drag performers bringing lots of energy to the evening, hors d'oeuvres will be circulating the room while you check out the silent auction baskets and other offerings."  Admission donation is $20.  Reserve a spot at https://2026-Tree-of-Life-UU-Service-Auction.auctria.events or pay at the door.

Financial support remains critical to fulfilling our mission. The best thing you can do is offer your critically needed financial support. Money donations are always welcome at     https://tinyurl.com/3bz96axe.   Look for updates here.  Email compassionforcampers@treeoflifeuu.org .

The Bloody and Bruising Birth of Intercollegiate Football

 

A Rutgers student later painted this imagined view of the first official college football game.

According to historians of American sports the first official college football season got underway on November 6, 1869 when teams from Rutgers College, now Rutgers University, and the College of New Jersey, now Princeton University, got together on the Rutgers campus for a rough and tumble game of football which was sanctioned and approved by both colleges.  It was a short season.  The next game was played by the same teams at Princeton one week later.  Season over.  Just two teams and two games.

The Queensmen of Rutgers won the first game by a score of 6-4 but the New Jersey Tigers came back in the re-match to win 8-0.  The anal-retentive record keepers of intercollegiate sports are torn on who to retroactively declare the first unofficial National Champion since a third and possibly decisive game was never played as originally intended, because the two teams could not agree under what rules to conduct the contest.  Princeton was named the champion by the Billingsley Report and the National Championship Foundation, but respected college football research historian Parke H. Davis named the two teams co-champions.

But for the players—there were no coaches yet—the split season had to be a lot like kissing your sister, pleasant enough but not thrilling.

To say that an intercollegiate sport of any kind was in its infancy is hardly an exaggeration.  Only rowing was widely contested and had been since Harvard and Yale first went at it in 1852.  A few colleges were playing a form of the new bat and ball game called baseball beginning with Amherst vs. Williams Colleges in 1859 and that was pretty much it.

Students had been playing rough kick ball goal games on a casual pick-up team basis on several campuses for at least twenty years, maybe longer.  There were few, if any rules, no set number of players on a team—anyone could jump in the game—and no set field dimensions.  Students let off steam and tended to emerge with black eyes, broken teeth, fractured bones, and a deep abiding thirst quenchable only with quantities of beer or rum punch.  College administrators took a dim view of it but considered the games preferable to another popular college pastime—rioting.  By the post-Civil War era football clubs were formed on some campuses and informal—actually illegal—matches between unofficial teams sometimes occurred.  Heavy betting by players, students, and faculty rode on some of these clandestine games.

The colleges of Rutgers and New Jersey finally decided it was best to sanction the competition to control the violence and debauchery that the unofficial matches had encouraged.  Still, the serious academics were unsure and dubious about games and frivolity in general which ran against the entrenched Puritanism that prevailed among most of the faculties.

Arranging the official matches was not easy because each team played by different rules which had evolved independently over time.  Finally, it was determined to play each game by the home team’s rules—which turned out to be a decisive advantage in each game.  The decision of what rules to use in a final third game was put off.  In the end neither team would agree to an advantage over the other and the third game had to be called off.


This view of the game better captures bloody melee of the game--young gentlemen with blood in their eyes.

Modern Americans would hardly recognize the game that was played on November 6 as Football.  It more closely resembled a crude version of what we now call soccer with some elements of Rugby, our form of the game’s most immediate ancestor.  The ball was round.  Players wore neither helmets nor identifying uniforms and ran in leather-soled street shoes or boots.  Twenty-five men on each side played both offense and defense.  There were no time outs, even for injuries and wounded players had to be dragged off the field by spectators dodging the action.  There also were no substitutions so knocking an opponent unconscious or breaking a leg was advantageous.  Players were forbidden to pick up and run with the ball.  The ball was advanced by kicking.  The field was 125 yards long and 75 yards wide, and unmarked. Under the circumstances the game could only be bloody and brutal.   

Rutgers had the advantage of both using its own rules and of some speedier runners who could occasionally break out of the mob scene and advance the ball.  Thus, they won the first game.

At New Jersey, the rules allowed a player to catch the ball with his hands on the fly and execute a free kick which could send the ball high over player’s heads and well down field.  This erased Rutgers’ advantage and allowed the Tigers to blank their rivals.  Rutgers was outraged by the “unfair tactics” but there was nothing they could do about it.

Interest at both colleges in the games was so high that during the short “season” students could hardly concentrate on their studies, so wrapped up in the games were they.  Faculty members pontificated about the moral collapse of a generation and wrung their hands over the distractions—setting up another time-honored tradition.

Over the next decades America went sports crazy.  Baseball erupted seemingly overnight into the National Pastime.  Boxing was closely followed from men’s club smokers to ballyhooed World Championships in multiple weight divisions covered in detail in illustrated magazines like the Police Gazette.  Thoroughbred racing and county fair pacers and trotters attracted racetrack crowds and fueled a burgeoning bookmaking industry.  College football would be swept up in the general rise.


It wasn't until 1886 that Yale footballer Walter Camp wrote his standardized rules of the game.  He went on to a long career as a coach and was honored as the father of football.

Sports writers for major newspapers began to cover the games and clamor for standardization of the rules.  Reformers demanded rule changes that made the games less of a blood bath.  On different campuses rules evolved differently.  It was not until June 4, 1875, that a form of the game recognizable to us—running with an oval ball, 11-man sides, and tackling to end a play would be contested between Harvard and Tufts Universities.  The next year Yale player Walter Camp drew up standardized rules based on the Rugby game being played by McGill University in Toronto. Harvard, Columbia, and the College of New Jersey—formed the Intercollegiate Football Association, the first league.  Yale joined three years later in 1879.  The rest, as they say, is history.  


On the 50th anniversary of the first game Rutgers honored the surviving members of the 1869 team.

Rutgers has always been particularly proud to have hosted the first college football game.  In fact, their boasting about it has kept their claim alive.  In 1919, the fiftieth anniversary of the game, the University honored all the surviving members of the team at their Homecoming celebration.  Members continued to attend until the last one, George H. Large died in 1939, seventy years after the most memorable day of his life.

 

                                      
                                                        For the 150th anniversary of the game in 2019 ESPN issued a souvenir Marvel comic.

Thursday, November 5, 2026

The Everett Massacre Was an Ambush and Mass Murder Under Color of Law

 

The IWW circulated this "silent agitator" sticker throughout the Pacific Northwest timber industry country in the wake of the ambush and murder.  A version was also used as a special assessment stamp to raise money for the Wobblies held on murder charges.

On November 5, 1916 two boatloads of Wobbly militants approached the dock of a Washington State lumber town.  They were coming to support a bitter strike by another and competing labor union.  For the IWW workers, singing on the deck solidarity with fellow workers was more important than the union card in the overalls or dues button on a cap.  Before they could tie up, they were met by a hail of gun fire.  At least five were killed—others fell overboard and were never found—and more than two score were treated for wounds.  When the boats limped back to Seattle, the survivors were arrested and put on trial for murder.  It was one of the most celebrated outrages of a bloody era of open class warfare.

Back in 1916 the town of Everett in the heart of Washington’s timber region was not what you would call a labor friendly town.  The city and surrounding Snohomish County governments were firmly in the hands of lumber and commercial interests determined to keep any kind of unionism out of the woods.  And they meant to enforce their will with special deputies and vigilantes organized by the Commercial Club.  Things had been dangerous for unionists for some time.  On November 5 they turned deadly when two boats of Wobblies tried to dock for a rally in support of striking AFL Shingle Weavers.

Shingle weaving was the highly dangerous craft of cutting cedar shakes using a series of saws and shears.  Many men lost fingers or hands in the unguarded equipment.

1916 was a panic year and around the country construction ground to a near halt and with it the demand for lumber.  Already tense with long-term efforts of both the American Federation of Labor and the more militant Industrial Workers of the World (IWW) to organize in the woods, industry bosses decided to step up opposition. 

The IWW was especially feared.  It had already launched several Free Speech Fights clogging local jails with prisoners for the right to orate.  Soap boxing was an important organizing tool to educate men and break the power of the job sharks who contracted labor for the remote lumber camps.  Worse, even without formal recognition, IWW job delegates were organizing in the camps, getting men to lay down their tools after 8 hours, burning vermin infested bedding, and abandoning camps entirely at critical production times.  The union was thus able to actually enforce working conditions even where the bosses would not speak to it.

                               
                                             An IWW recruitment cartoon highlighting the crowded and primitive conditions of the lumber camps.

The AFL, a union representing skilled craftsmen and ignoring more manual casual laborers, had been seen, however reluctantly by some, as a safety valve to keep workers out of the notorious Red union.  In other areas of the state the AFL had been able to gain recognition.

Not around Snohomish County.  When Shingle Weavers went out on strike for recognition that summer, they discovered just how determined authorities were to keep them out.  On August 19 a group of strikers were waylaid, ambushed, and trapped on a railway trestle outside of Everett and many were beaten severely with clubs, whips, and axe handles.

Relationships were often tense on the official level between the AFL and IWW.  The Seattle based IWW newspaper The Industrial Worker often derided conservative “business unionism” and poked fun at workers swallowing the boss’s or AFL lines in Mr. Block Cartoon and in song lyrics by Joe Hill.  But on the principle of solidarity, there was no division.  IWW leadership and members determined to come to the aid of the besieged Shingle Weavers.


Despite being a former shingle weaver himself, Sheriff Donald McRae was ruthless in his organization of a local posse and company thugs in a series of brutal attacks on union members even before the day on the dock.

The Wobblies tried to open a hall in Everett.  Sheriff Donald McRae, who organized and led the legal posse and Commercial Club goons, quickly shut it down.  On September 11 IWW organizer James Rowan was seized and taken to the woods where he was sadistically beaten.  Responding to calls in the Industrial Worker for reinforcements over the next month or so about 400 Wobs drifted into town in groups only to be met by armed violence and driven away.

On October 30 about 40 harvest stiffs arrived from the wheat fields in Eastern Washington.  They were rounded up as they arrived on freight trains and taken to a secluded railway crossing.  There they were made to run a gauntlet over a cattle crossing grating between lines of club wielding deputies.  All were gruesomely injured.  A committee of churchmen investigating the incident soon after reported finding the men’s skin, hair, and blood still sticking to the grating.  Their blistering report and plea to allow free speech to resume in Everett helped shift public opinion.  With the advice of the ministers, the IWW circulated a flyer in the town calling for a mass protest.

Meanwhile, the Shingle Weaver strike dragged on.  In Seattle IWW organizers decided it was fruitless and dangerous for small groups to try and come into town by rail.  It was decided to rally hundreds on a Sunday afternoon, bringing them down from the city on chartered boats for a scheduled rally at a local park.

Between 300 and 400 Wobs rallied at the Seattle hall and marched to the waterfront where they boarded two small steamers, the Verona carrying the bulk of them and the slower Calista carrying the overflow.

The Verona was well ahead when it pulled up to the dock in Everett.  The men on board were singing the IWW version of Hold the Fort.  Most crowed the rail on the dock side, eager to get off.  Sheriff McRae and 200 deputies met them.  Most were on or near the dock.  A few were hidden in a warehouse, and others were on board a harbor tug, the Edison. 

The Verona managed to come into dock and got one line looped around a bollard.  Sheriff McRae stepped forward, pistol in hand and asked, “Who’s in charge there?”  In true Wobbly fashion and in the tradition of Spartacus, the men on the boat yelled back, “We all are!”  McRae announced he was “upholding the law” and that the men would not be able to land.  “The hell we can’t,” was the unanimous response.

Seconds later a first shot was fired.  No source was ever identified, but almost immediately teen-age Hugo Gerlot, who had shimmied up a mast to act as a lookout, fell dead to the deck.  Then the whole line of gunmen on the dock and those in the warehouse and on the Edison unloaded a terrible fusillade.


A sketch of the attack on the
Verorna from the Everett City Dock.

On board the Verona, the Wobblies stampeded to the other side of the ship, causing it to nearly capsize and sending several into the waters Puget Sound where some drowned.  Firing kept up for almost 10 minutes.  The pilot house was later found to be peppered with more than 177 bullet holes.  Captain Chance Wiman only saved himself by crouching behind the ship’s safe.

After the ship righted itself from the near capsize, below deck engineer Shellgren frantically and blindly put the engines hard astern.  The line tying the ship to the dock finally snapped and she was able to pull away.  Wiman resumed his place at the wheel, but deputies using hunting rifles continued to pepper the retreating boat with sniper fire.  The Verona met the lagging Calista and frantically signaled her to turn around.

At least 5 Wobblies were known dead.  But no manifest was kept and many of the men had just arrived in Seattle in response to the Industrial Worker calls and were unknown to others on board.  Several men went overboard and not all were accounted for.  Some scholars of the event believe as many as 12 may actually have died of gunshot wounds or drown, and their bodies either never recovered or hidden by Everett authorities.  Twenty-seven were treated for wounds in Seattle, and others undoubtedly likely suffered minor wounds untreated by medical personnel.


The death masks of the five known IWW dead.

There was carnage among the attackers, too.  Two men in the warehouse died, shot in the back by their fellow ambushers in the wild shooting as no incoming bullet holes were ever found in the building.  Ashore and on the dock 20, including Sheriff McCrae were injured.  Despite claims that they had been fired upon from the ship, no evidence of that was ever found.  IWW leaders regularly and routinely discouraged members from carrying guns.  Even if a handful had been armed with concealed handguns and managed to get off a shot or two, all the wounds were from long guns.  The Sheriff and his men were the victims of their own crossfire, especially fire from the Edison.

Despite this, when the Verona tied up in Seattle the passengers were arrested.  75 of them would be charged with murder.   IWW leader Thomas H. Tracy was the first to face trial in the hostile Snohomish County courthouse.  The trial dragged on for two months.  Mountains of testimony and evidence revealed that the shooting was planned by the posse, that IWW had either not been shooters or acted in self-defense, and that the deaths and injuries among the posse members were all “friendly fire.”  Tracy was acquitted in May 1917 and publicity around the case aroused considerable public sympathy for the IWW.  None of the other members charged were ever brought to trial.


                                        IWW leader Tom Tracy was the first and only one of the Wobblies charged with murder who was  brought to trial.  He was acquitted.

As for the Shingle Weavers, well their AFL leaders never came to the defense of the IWW members who had died trying to aid them.  They eventually lost their strike.  Many of their former members took out Red Cards. 

With World War I once again ramping up demand for lumber and labor shortages as young men were drafted or enlisted, the IWW was able to exert greater than ever de facto job control in the region’s lumber camps.  Conditions improved, clean bedding was provided, plentiful and good quality food was on the mess table, the eight-hour day strictly enforced, and the power of the job sharks at least temporarily broken.  This prevailed until after the war and a new wave of repression during the infamous Red Scare.

The Everett Massacre is one of several labor tragedies that occurred in November and which Wobblies annually commemorate with In November We Remember.  The other events include the execution of the Haymarket Martyrs, Joe Hill’s death by firing squad, the lynching of Frank Little in Butte, Montana, and the Armistice Day 1919 attack by an American Legion mob on an IWW hall in Centralia, Washington and subsequent lynching of Wesley Everest.


A hundred years after the massacre the event was finally commemorated in Everett with this historic marker.

On a personal note, I spoke in Everett on an IWW soapboxing tour in 1970.  Not only was our street meeting allowed to go on unmolested, but I was interviewed by the local newspaper and featured in a front-page article with a big photo.  The young reporter who conducted the interview said I was the first Wobbly the newspaper had actually talked to get the IWW side of the story in its long history.  Later in Seattle on that same trip the old Norwegian lumber worker Herb Edwards took me to a nursing home and introduced me to one of the last surviving veterans of that awful day in 1916.


Wednesday, November 4, 2026

Sing Hallelujah, Judgment Day is At Hand--Democrats Sweep MAGA

 


These figures are not definitive.  It seemed like the margin of victory in the House was revised upwards every ten minutes all night.  Another couple of races may still be in play, and it is still possible for the Alaska Senate seat be added.

There are a lot of folks out there this morning with glee hangovers and some folks checking into vacations in no extradition havens.   The results of the 2026 Election far exceeded the most optimistic pixilated Democrat across the country in rural, suburban, and urban areas among almost every identifiable type of voter.  Democracy is apparently saved pending the lashings of the dying of the dragon's tail.

It's hard not to get giddy--or over-confident.

Democrats picked up nine Senate seats including Deep Red South Carolina, North Carolina, Texas, Iowa, and Kansas, and critical battlegrounds in hotly contested Ohio, Michigan, Minnesota, Maine, and New Hampshire, and in Alaska Mary Peltola clings to a narrow 75-vote lead with 75% of the vote in.  Their majority in the Senate is assured no matter what mischief John Fetterman is up to.

James Talarico's win in the Texas Senate race was a highlight of the night.

Dems flipped House seats in New Jersey, Pennsylvania, Virgina, North Carolina, Kentucky, Ohio, Indiana, Wisconsin, Minnesota, Iowa, Nebraska, Texas, and California.   They defended several seats that were mid-term gerrymandered against them.  If Hakeem Jeffries can hold his caucus together Democrats will have a free hand in the House.

They gained governorships in Gorgia, Ohio, Texas, Iowa, and Nevada and picked up control of  seven state legislative chambers.

The only cloud on the horizon were those who want to spur a war by establishment Dems personified by Senate Leader Chick Schumer and Democratic Socialist upstarts.  On NBC Rahm Emanuel was practically salivating,  Wins in the South and blue-collar Northern districts were made possible by picking up good slices of disillusioned Trump voters motivated by pocketbook issues.  Congress needs to prioritize immediate relief without systemic change and play down or even pass on hauling Resident and his cronies before investigative committees, he said.  He also claimed that most of those swing voters would be repelled by the Socialist label.

There is little evidence that Socialist mud stuck.  It's losing its bugaboo reputation.  DSL and other left progressive candidates did very well in their races racking up wins in deep Red areas.  They also want to offer voters real relief but endorse more far-reaching remedies including Medicare for All, and taxing billionaires.  They will insist that extensive corruption under Trump and his family and cronies must dealt with.  But that could so consume both houses of Congress that nothing else can move.  The new Congress will have to find a way to deal with both, which will demand at least some cooperation by both sides.

Another lesson of the Midterms is that the Republican reliance on hair-on-fire social issues to get working class voters to turn against their own interests is fading.  The tranny-in-the-bathroom scare fades when people can't afford fuel for their cars and trucks, find affordable housing, or get critical medical care.

Nation-wide Democratic women made impressive gains up and down state tickets.  Black, Latinx, Native American, and immigrant citizens all won in unexpected palaces.

Here in Illinois, Governor J.B. Pritzker and Senate candidate Juliana Straton led a sweep of state-wide offices and Dems won all five U.S. House districts up for grabs due to retirement or primary losses.  That included Mellisa Bean retaking her former 8th District seat.  Most of the newcomers are progressives.

Here in formerly Deep Red McHenry County, local Democrats made deep inroads.  They picked up two County-wide races--Bill McNeese for County Clerk and Bridget Belcastro for Regional Superintendent of Education.  Amin Karim lost his bid for Treasurer after controversy over late property tax bills.  Brad Schnider and Bill Foster easily won re-election to the U.S. House seats but Republican Darin LaHood retained his largely rural seat. 

Karen Battaglia upset incumbent Craig Wilcox, Nabila Syed trounced a blond MAGA clone appointed incumbent, and Michele Clark won in localState Senate races.  Suzzane Ness was re-elected to her State House seat and Melissa Peterson bested an incumbent in her race.   


Gloria Van Hof led Democratic vote getters in McHenry County Board races with one race stilltoo close to call picking up five--maybe six--Board seats.




Tuesday, November 3, 2026

Ten Years Ago: The Universe Re-set—The Cubs Win the World Series


Note--Last week I sat in my easy chair and watched the team that broke the Cubs' high flying hopes--the team that led the National Leage Central from day one and had the best record in the NL, had the fewest home runs and the most hits, played old-time small ball spiced by 100 mile per hour pitching win the 2026 World Series in Game 4 against Tampa Bay.  And I was cheering.  The Milwaukee Brewers were indisputably the best team in baseball.  I knew what it was like to win a long-delayed Championship on the Road with high drama.  Ten years ago, it was the Chicago Cubs celebrating on an alien field as fans everywhere when wild.  To capture that thrilling moment, here is my post from November 3, the morning after the game exactly as it was written then.


My beloved Cubs, I always say, as if they belonged to me.  This boy from Cheyenne who grew up a Cardinals fan has been hooked on the Boys in blue pinstripes since I wandered into Kap’s, a fanatic Cubs bar on Armitage near the old Town Burlesque in 1969.  My first trips to Wrigley Field were that year, the first adrenaline rush of a pennant race, the first embrace of heroes I would come to know as well as family, the first bitter heartbreak of disappointment.
I returned to the well year after year in good times and in miserable seasons—the same ones our beloved Chicago Shorty—Steve Goodman—knew so well and immortalized in both wistful and hopefully defiant song.  I wore out transistor radios listening furtively to Cubs games at various jobs--Jack Brickhouse, Lou Boudreau, Milo Hamilton, and Harry Caray.


Fans celebrate outside Wrigley Field as the marquee flashed news of the win in Cleveland.  Similar explosions erupted around American Family Field last Wednesday.

Yet my claims were shallow.  A veritable Johnny-come-lately.  The city, suburbs, and beyond are filled with generations of fans—a faith and hope passed on by miraculous baptism linking great grandfathers to babes in Cubs onesies.  The stories are legion.  This week the team provided chalk for those deeply connected fans to inscribe on the bricks the names of loved ones who waited for this moment.  It would be a cliché if it weren’t so damn real.

As much as I have loved them, I surprised myself last night during the emotional roller coaster of what may go down in history as the greatest Game 7 ever played.  In the span of three and a half hours I soared to elation, was kicked in the gut by despair, and miraculously restored to faith.  I was not prepared for the surge of emotions at that final tenth inning out.  The celebrations in the field and in the streets were matched in a shabby Crystal Lake living room by an old man in a recliner and ratty old cap, his fair-weather fan wife, and a perplexed dog.
I laughed.  I wept.  I could hardly sleep at all. 
This morning a fog lay on the ground as I took the bus to work.  By the time we got to Woodstock it lifted and the Sun was rising in a perfect blue sky just peeking through the crowns of golden maple trees.  The air electric, crisp, expectant.  Perfect.  Absolutely perfect.