Roy's Blog
As can be seen in other parts of the web site, I like to write about things I find interesting/important. All of those things that interest me are not all significant enough to warrant a full essay; therefore, I've decided to create a Blog for myself. It will not be like most blogs in that I'm not using any blog software. If you want to comment/argue/disagree with anything in the blog (or anywhere else in my web site) just send me an email rwl@lobenhofer.com and if I deem it appropriate, I will post it. Be aware, I do not believe commercials are appropriate, nor language that isn't PG. (Okay, I'm a prude - but I'm an old prude!) That being said, I'd love to hear your comments especially if you disagree. By understanding why you disagree, perhaps I will see the errors in my thinking.
A word of warning before going on regarding proof reading: if you read any of the following you will soon be asking, “Doesn’t he proof read this stuff?” The answer is yes I do proof read it and that is why there are so many errors. You see when I proof read my own work, I see what I meant not necessarily what shows up. Sometimes when I reread things weeks later, I will catch some of the errors and correct them. Until then, my apologies!
Date Posted:
Sunday November 16, 2025
General Area:Aging
Title: Remembering
I'd say one of the worst things about aging is putting stuff away where you won't forget putting them and then forgetting where you put them except I've been doing it since I was a teen.
Date Posted:
Thursday, September 18, 2025
General Area:Writing
Title: The Writers Group latest assignment was learning experiences. Here's my effort.
Uniforms
Learning experiences are always happening to us. Most of
the time we don’t even remember them happening. Sometimes an event sticks in our
mind because of the magnitude of the lesson. Other times we remember because of
the uniqueness of the experience.
Early in my foundry career I had an experience I still
remember some 60 years later. At the young age of about 25 I was the second
shift metallurgist at the Clow pipe plant in Bensenville, IL. While not a
typical foundry, it had one thing in common with most iron foundries – it was
dirty, and our clothes showed it.
When one of the other supervisors proposed a uniform
service, being a bachelor it sounded pretty good to me. I’m sure the supervisor
was getting a cut, but it wasn’t that expensive, and I wouldn’t have to do the
laundry. I signed up.
The uniforms were delivered. The shirts were of a nice
sturdy fabric that would do a good job not getting holes from the occasional
spark of iron that flew. While they were white, not a color I would have chosen
for a foundry, I didn’t have to get them clean. The pants were dark blue and
were polyester. It didn’t look that bad, but in foundries, that wasn’t very
important.
It worked well for a couple of weeks, but that changed
one evening. We would periodically have a problem that required straddling a
trough of molten iron to fix. It wasn't as dangerous as it sounds, but I was
young and had to prove what a good boss I was. So, instead of having one of my
men do it, I usually did what was needed. That night the problem took a little
longer than normal and I had been over the iron for maybe three minutes.
(Believe me, it felt longer.)
A natural reaction to being close to molten iron is to
try to cool off the areas that were closest. In this case, it was the crotch of
my pants. To cool the area, I patted it. Which led immediately to the crotch of
the pants falling off. Fortunately, only males worked in the foundry at that
time.
I learned some polyester becomes brittle when subjected
to high temperatures and that makes it unsuitable for foundry clothing.
I can’t say it was a significant learning experience;
however, it was certainly memorable.
Date Posted:
Thursday, September 18, 2025
General Area:Writing
Title: The Writers Group had another assignment to write something about our childhood home. Here's my effort.
The Backyard
The backyard of my boyhood home was much like any other
backyard at the time. Or, maybe it wasn’t. We had a detached garage (with a
rotting wooden floor) in the back corner of the lot. The driveway that led to it
from the street must have been put in to save money, because it wasn’t what I’d
consider a real driveway, rather two strips of concrete with grass between. That
driveway ended at the back of the house. From there to the garage was gravel.
A concrete sidewalk led from the back stairs to the
alley. (I suppose the garage was built before the alley, otherwise we wouldn’t
have needed a driveway.) The sidewalk to the alley got interesting in winter.
The garage must have sunk, taking that side of the sidewalk with it. Add ice and
snow in the winter and it made getting to the alley challenging.
There was about a two-foot strip of soil between the
garage and alley where someone had planted rhubarb. I don’t know whether it was
a specific type of rhubarb or if all rhubarb is impossible to kill, but I
certainly tried to kill that stuff. My mother always had to make rhubarb sauce
or something from it and then I had to eat it. Did I mention my mother wasn’t a
good cook?
There was also a grape arbor next to the sidewalk. It
must have been put in by someone who planned to make some variety of wine
because eating the grapes off the vine was something you did only once. I don’t
even remember a lot of birds back there when the grapes were ripe. Maybe they
were truly as vile as I remember.
The cherry tree in the backyard looked lovely about two
days each spring when it blossomed. The birds did like those cherries when they
were ripe. (Watch your head if you go under the branches!) My mother even had me
pick them a couple of times to make pies. To this day, I will not order cherry
pie. Did I mention mother wasn’t a good cook?
Of course, we had grass in the backyard that grew very
well and a push rotary mower that might not have been so bad if someone had
taught me how to sharpen it. But you combine good growing grass, a lazy teen,
and a dull push mower and it’s easy to understand why the grass tended to get
long. I wonder if that’s why the neighbors on both sides had thick hedges
blocking their view of our backyard.
We also had the, at the time,
mandatory clothesline. Which leads to an interesting memory. With the
clothesline came the clothes pole. Being a family of short people, the
clothesline had to have help once the clothes were on it. The wooden clothes
pole provided an interesting diversion for a period of time. I believe it was an
Olympic summer and I saw something in a newspaper about pole vaulting.
A
clothes pole would work for that. Naturally, the clothesline was too high, but a
couple of stepladders provided a way of holding a bar for me to vault over. With
no google, utube, or knowledgeable person to teach me how to do it. I proceeded
to “learn” how not to do it by myself. After a few weeks (I’m a slow learner), I
realized I could jump higher without using the pole. That was the end of my
career as a pole vaulter.
With these memories of 516’s backyard, it’s easy to see
why I spent a lot of time in the front yard.
Date Posted:
Wednesday, August 27 2025
General Area:Writing
Title: The Writers Group had an assignment to write something about our childhood home. Here's my effort.
The Attic
I lived in the same house from the time I was born until
I got married at 29. Not being an architect, real estate agent, or otherwise
into houses, I’ll believe it was a Cape Cod bungalow like I was told when I was
young. It was one story, 2 bedrooms and 1 bathroom with a full basement and an
attic.
The attic at some time had work done. The front third of
it was left as attic. The rest was turned into a sitting room and a bedroom. The
“rooms” had walls that were about four foot high and then tapered up to a peak
following the roof line. Heat was provided by vents on the floor allowing air to
come up from the first floor. Air conditioning was provided in the same way as
the rest of the house – open windows. Since heat rises and insulation in those
days wasn’t as effective as it is now, it’s not hard to imagine the conditions
in those rooms during the heat of the summer.
I assumed occupancy of those rooms after I graduated from
college. You might wonder why I was still living at home in my late twenties.
Basically, it was because my mother, the only parent I had, had become
wheelchair bound when I was in high school and I took care of her (poorly) as I
went through college and started my career in foundries. While the rooms weren’t
ideal, they did provide a young man with a smidgeon of privacy.
Another thing you might recollect
from the time was in many homes there was a
telephone. There were no answering machines; therefore, if the caller hung up
before you answered, you were left with the most significant question that would
bug you for hours to come, who called?
So, it wasn’t surprising that
while stealing a short nap in my upstairs refuge when the phone rang, I was up
in a shot racing to the steps. Unfortunately, the floor was linoleum. (Does
anyone remember linoleum? Do they even make it anymore?)
Anyway, the linoleum upstairs was of the high
gloss variety. Translate that to mean slippery especially when wearing socks! As
I made the turn to go down the stairs my feet went out from under me, and I went
tumbling down the stairs.
Needless to say, my rolling down the stairs made a
racket. As I was bouncing down the steps, to this day, I remember my loving
mother yelling her concerns for my safety. No, I didn’t hear, “Roy, are you
alright?” Instead, I heard, “Roy, I told you not to run with your socks on!”
In fairness to her, she had told me not to run in my
socks and there wasn’t too much damage done to my body. (Ah, for a young body
again!)
Date Posted:
Wednesday, August 12, 2025
General Area:Writing
Title: Something I Shared with the Writers Group at the Moorings
Someone Thinks I’m a Real Photographer
I was into photography on and off throughout my life but
started working more diligently on it when I tried digital photography. I took
classes at the Morton Arboretum and the Chicago Botanic Garden trying to learn
how to take good photographs. It was because of a class at the Botanic Garden
one person recognized me as a “real” photographer.
It was an interesting class I took with Paul Palmer.
Each of the students was required to pick a topic and develop a portfolio. Paul
chose “trees” which I thought was way too challenging for me. I opted for
Japanese gardens. The Chicago Botanic Garden has a great Japanese garden. Also,
there was Anderson Gardens in Rockford, and supposedly there’s another good one
near the Museum of Science and Industry (that I still haven’t seen). I figured I
had a lot of great opportunities to find subjects for my portfolio.
I was back at the Botanic Garden working on the
portfolio when I noticed a large rock with black string sitting on the first
stone of a flagstone path. The information by it told that according to Japanese
tradition the string on the rock on the path was a “do not enter” sign. It
looked nifty and had to be a good addition to the portfolio. I shot from all
sorts of angles, but I wasn’t getting the impact I wanted. I decided what I
needed to do was lie down and shoot level with the rock. As I was 70ish then,
lying down wasn’t what I was looking forward to, but you do what you must do to
get the shot you want.
I was down taking the shot when I felt someone coming up
next to me. I looked up and saw a gentleman about my age. He looked at me and
said, “You must be a real photographer.”
I replied with something innocuous like, “I try.”
He said, “Oh no, you’re a real photographer.”
I asked, “Why do you say that?
“Only a real photographer would lay in a puddle to get a
shot.”
The Result
Date Posted:
Tuesday, August 12, 2025
General Area:
Essays
Title: New Essay
I just posted a new essay about what makes a good play. If you're interested click here.
Date Posted:
Thursday, July 17, 2025
General Area:
Journalism
Title:
Are
Headlines Part of Journalism
I just saw a headline for an
article on the web: Boomers, Please Stop Doing
32 Things That Drive Everyone Crazy.
I’ll admit it raised my hackles immediately. First,
I’m tired of everyone labeling Boomers. No, I’m not a boomer, I’m older.
According to the classifications I’m part of the silent generation. (Kind of
humorous thinking you are reading a blog from someone who’s supposed to be
silent.) But it seems lately there’s a new headline blaming “Boomers” for one
thing or another every day. This headline is either in error or lying. If
Boomers are driving everyone
crazy, doesn’t that mean they are driving themselves crazy? That doesn’t sound
logical to me.
I’ve gotten to the point where I
don’t usually bother reading the articles, but I decided to see what the Boomers
were getting blamed for and whether it was driving me crazy. I only got to the
first of the 32. Talking Loudly on
Speakerphone in Public. I’m not sure it drives
me crazy, but it’s certainly irritating. However, the people I see doing it are
not Boomers! Have I seen Boomers talking loudly on a speakerphone? Sure, but
I’ve seen more of the other generations from those who I call Teenie boppers to
we of the silent generation. Basically, there are classless people in every
generation.
Once again, the article is a matter of people needing to
fill space on the internet not honest journalism.
Date Posted:
Monday, July 7, 2025
General Area: What;s Important
Title: Can't Make It On Three
I appreciate this story because of the questions it
provoked in my mind that I have still not answered.
Again, it started while working at Clow. I was Plant
Metallurgist. I was responsible for the melting and laboratory departments. One
of my melting supervisors had been complaining to me about one of his employees
because he was only showing up to work about four days per week. (In order to
keep this in perspective, you should remember that foundries historically have
never paid their laborers what would be considered high wages. That, of course,
led to often not being able to get enough laborers and trying hard to keep the
ones you did have.)
Obviously, the supervisor complained about the man’s
attendance on a day he was absent. So, I asked the foreman if the employee
showed up the next day to bring him to my office and I’d see what I could do.
True to the supervisor’s word about working four days a week, since the employee
had missed the day before, he was there the next day. He and the supervisor were
in my office shortly after the start of his shift. I started out by asking him
how he was feeling – “fine”. I then went into what was most likely an overlong
explanation of the importance of our people being on the job.
I wrapped up my soliloquy by saying, “Our records show
that you average only working four days a week. Is there a reason for that?”
The man hardly paused at all before responding, “Because
I can’t make it on three.”
It was not a response I was prepared for. From that point
on the memory of the conversation becomes hazy. I’m sure I blustered with a
threat about doing better or we’d have to fire him, and we eventually did, or
maybe he decided he didn’t really like the work at all and stopped coming in.
I must confess my first reaction was to wonder how
someone could think that way. You must strive to better yourself; to make more
money so you can have nicer things, a better house, a better car, and a better
job so your kids will have it better than you did. As a twenty something that’s
the way I’d been taught, wasn’t everybody?
Then I did some thinking. I’m guessing the employee was
in his late thirties. He most likely hadn’t graduated from high school. Sure,
this is the United States, if he worked tremendously hard, he could have gotten
the things I was striving for. I’d seen it work. After all, my one uncle rose
from office boy to Vice President of Illinois Bell and my other uncle started
his own business without graduating from high school. I wonder if the employee
had seen examples of that like I had. Most likely not, it’s hard to visualize
something if you haven’t ever seen it before.
How do you motivate someone like that to be a good
employee? My carrot was more money, promotion, etc. What was his carrot? Maybe
there isn’t a carrot for a person like that. Maybe the answer is not to hire him
in the first place. However, when you’re trying to fill jobs that people don’t
want, how picky can you be? Obviously, I never satisfactorily answered those
questions. If I had, I would be a multi-millionaire.
It wasn’t until years later,
after a couple of jobs I didn’t like, that another question arose from this
story. Who had the best philosophy? At the time of the incident, I was most
likely working sixty hours a week and was stressing about how to get a better
job. While I still can’t agree with the “can’t make it on three” philosophy, I
realized I wasn’t really enjoying the life I was living as much as I should
have. I was too busy striving for the life I was going to have. I now wish I’d
remembered the rather famous quote -
Yesterday is history, tomorrow
is a mystery, today is a gift--that's why we call it "the present.” I
regret not learning how to enjoy where I was instead of looking at how great
things were going to be in the future, but I’m doing better at it now.
Date Posted:
Tuesday, June 17, 2025
General Area:
Pet Peeves
Title:
Doctors
We all have pet peeves, and it seems lately a lot of mine
have centered around the medical industry. My latest is when you are sitting on
that uncomfortable table for 15 minutes after the nurse has taken your
temperature and blood pressure. The doctor walks in and asks, “Well, what brings
you in today?”
Of course, the only reason you’re there is the doctor
told you to come back in six months.
His/her question (and I have it happen with men and
women) tells me they aren’t doing their homework before coming in. It tells me
how important I am to them – not very!
Date Posted:Sunday, May 11, 2025
General Area:
Media
Title:
What
Boomers Think
I’m not a boomer. I thought I was, but I found out
recently I preceded the Baby Boom Generation and am a member of the Silent
Generation. (So silent I didn’t know it existed!) I don’t really think about
“the generations” all that much. What difference does it make whether I was born
in 1939 or 1927? (I suppose actuarily it does, but in reality, it means my
mother would have been 26 instead of 38 when I was born. Does anyone think I
would have been raised all that differently?
As I said I’m not into the generation thing, but lately
it seems the web has been inundated with articles telling me what Boomer’s love
and hate and what the other generations think about it. Assuming I was Boomer, I
read those and frequently found myself saying B S. I’d talk to my peers (since I
like to hang out with youngsters, they are Boomers.) and they’d confirm they
didn’t agree with the generalizations made.
I then wondered what the media was doing presenting such
B S. My pragmatic side told me the media had inches to fill; however, I was
forced to wonder if their effort to fill inches wasn’t helping to destroy the
veracity of the media. I can easily see the article about the safety of vaccines
being dismissed by saying, “it’s the same B S as those articles about the
Boomers.”
My admonition is to read the article about Boomers with
the scrutiny you should be using reading every article. Yes, some Boomers may
agree with the authors, but all DO NOT! Make sure evidence is provided by the
author, warranting the conclusions they derived.
Date Posted:
Saturday, March 22, 2025
General Area:
Media
Title:
Common
Sense Doesn’t Make Good Headlines
I hope you think about the title of this bit. It’s
something I came up with when I was reading a headline about some things being
said by our government leaders and I’m rather proud of it. To my mind, it
explains many things that I find wrong today.
Yes, this is a little media
bashing. The media publishes something inane, and it gets repeated enough and
soon it’s gospel. So, a lot of the misinformation is the media’s fault; however,
remember what the media’s job is. We’d like to believe the media’s job is to
keep us well informed with factual information; however, that’s wishful
thinking. The job of the media, like everyone else, is to survive. How does
media survive? It gets people to listen to, watch, or read their efforts.
Thus,
eye catching headlines are essential to their survival.
In all honesty, I blame the media for much of the
political unease we are feeling. In their search for viewers/readers they have
found outrageous personalities and gave their “out there” ideas credibility.
However, the media is only doing what they perceive they need to do to survive.
The real concern is the viewers/readers who believe everything they are reading.
I remember the time when we made fun of the people who
would pick up the papers waiting at the checkout lanes at the grocery store. The
stories of big foot and three headed calves were certainly eye catching.
Unfortunately, even back then, there were those who thought since it was
published it was true.
Date Posted:
Thursday, January 30, 2025
General Area:
Justice
Title:
Punishment
I saw a headline from the Chicago Tribune this morning
that shocked me. “Cook County States Attorney to Push for Prison Sentences in
Machine Gun Cases” The idea the States Attorney is going to now push for such
sentences is overwhelming. That headline tells me they haven’t been pushing
prison previously and also tells me they aren’t pushing for prison when regular
guns are used. We wonder why so many of us feel crime is getting worse.