Celebrity Snippets: Bob Newhart

Bob Newhart is one of the most popular comedians in American history. His comedy album from the 60s: "The Button-Down Mind of Bob Newhart" is one of the top selling comedy albums of all time.






The following Bob Newhart story is taken from my first book "The Radio Producer's Handbook," which, by the way is still available at amazon.com. It comes from Chapter 3 "Crafting a Great Interview", page 34, in the section about phone interviews...

Recording phone interviews in studios that aren’t normally used for recording interviews can present all sorts of logistical problems. Normally, you have to kick a production person out of his studio to do this, and he has everything set precisely the way he wants it. A few years ago, Rick was attempting to tape a phone interview between John Landecker & Bob Newhart.

The production director had no idea how to set up his control board to record a phone call. The first two times Newhart got on the line, the production director accidentally hung up on him. By the time the studio was properly set up, Newhart had been waiting on the line for twenty minutes. Luckily, he had a great sense of humor about it. He thought that they were trying to do a phone bit like the ones that made him famous.

When we finally got him on the air, he and John had a great conversation. They talked about his breakthrough album that John memorized when he was a kid, and Bob's two most successful television series.

We also played John's all-time favorite Bob Newhart bit: This one about Abraham Lincoln.

And, of course, the clip of one of the most memorable moments in television history.

Suburban Man: The Birth of Sean Kaempfer

By Rick Kaempfer







Tomorrow, September 19, 2007, my youngest son Sean turns five years old. (Photo: Sean, eighteen months)

When he was born, I was still the executive producer of the John Records Landecker show on WJMK Radio. Like we did with the birth of my two other sons (Tommy and Johnny), the John Landecker show followed the pregnancy on the air. I even recorded the actual birth on digital audio tape as it was happening, and then called into the radio program with a full report live from the hospital.

His brothers were both born early in the morning (Tommy at 4 AM, Johnny at 2 AM), but Bridget was in labor DURING the show for Sean. I called into the show every hour and gave updates, some of which are referenced in the transcript below. Sean was born less than hour after the show ended that day.

This is the transcript of the call the following morning, September 20, 2005. The show members at that time were John Landecker, Leslie Keiling, and Bonnie Greene.


John: Magic 104.3, 8:14, John Records Landecker along with Leslie Keiling, that's Sister Sledge "We are Family". Rick, our producer, are you there?

Rick: I'm here.

John: You're a brand new dad.

Rick: Yes I am.

John: Bridget are you there?

Bridget: Hello. I'm here.

John: Do you have a radio at the hospital?

Bridget: No. We had one down at labor and delivery, and we were listening. The anesthesiologist thought you were really funny.

Leslie: Oh great.

John: You mean when he called him "Shakes"?

Rick: And a heroin addict, I believe.

John: Ha! So, how long do they let you stay in the hospital these days after delivery?

Bridget: 48 hours, and I'm taking every last second of it.

John: Well you sound good.

Rick: She looks good too.

John: Do you feel good too?

Bridget: Yeah. And we got a little trooper here too.

Leslie: Is the trooper in there with you?

John: No hold on a second, we're not giving anything away here. OK, so Rick. So far you have Tommy...

Rick: He'll be seven next month.

John: And Johnny...

Rick: He's 4 1/2.

John: Now people want to know. Hit it, Vinnie.

(Music: Theme song from "My Three Sons")

John: It would be my three...

Rick: Sons.

John: How big was our boy?

Bridget: 7 pounds, 12 ounces.

John: How long was labor?

Bridget: I'm not exactly sure because when we got here I was already in labor.

Leslie: That's the best way isn't it?

Rick: It really wasn't that long. I think she only had to push about ten times.

Leslie: And then went to the prom.

(Everyone laughs)

John: Let's get to the tape. Now Rick, you taped this yourself?

Rick: I did.

John: Any problems?

Rick: None at all this time. I had the surgical gloves on, and was helping the doctor. I had a leg in one hand, and..

John: Now wait a second here. What leg were you hanging on to?

Rick: I was hanging on to one of Bridget's legs.

John: Oh. So let me get this straight. You're hanging on to Bridget's leg with one hand, and the microphone in the other hand?

Rick: No, I set the microphone down on the table.

John: Oh geez. I had an image in my head here...

Rick: I'm very talented.

(Everyone laughs)

Rick: I did test levels.

(Everyone laughs)

John: The first time you didn't even know the microphone was on, the third time you're testing levels.

Rick: Exactly.

John: OK, roll the tape.

Dr. Sabbagha: Hi, hi, there it is. Can you push a little more?

Bridget: Ugh

Dr. Sabbagha: Hi there. Push push.

Nurse: Hi pumpkin.

Dr. Sabbagha: God, you're beautiful. Say something, precious.

Rick: It's a purple baby. That's Johnny's favorite color.

Baby cries.

Dr. Sabbagha: There he goes.

Rick: It's a boy!

Bridget: It's a boy?!

Rick: My three sons. Good work!

John: Rick. Guess whose crying in the studio? Oh, look, I got two of 'em crying.

Leslie: That's so beautiful.

Rick: It was soooo cool. I really got to enjoy it this time.

John: (sarcastically) Oh, and I know how hard the whole birthing process is for you.

Bridget: I actually thought he was funny this time. He made me laugh.

Bonnie: Because you hated him the other two times, right?

Rick: She kicked me in the knutchkies the first time she was so mad at me.

Bridget: I did not.

Rick: You did too.

John: Oh come on now, you two. You just had a baby.

Rick: I'm actually really proud of her. You should see her. You'd never believe she just had a baby.

Leslie: How are the boys. Are they excited?

Rick: (long pause) Uh...no.

(Everyone laughs)

Bridget: Tommy was so excited for about ten seconds. He came running into the room, held the baby, and then...hey what's in this cabinet?

Rick: And Johnny didn't even want to hold the baby.

John: Oooooooh.

Bonnie: Johnny's the middle child now.

Rick: Yup. My mom asked Johnny yesterday how his day went, and he said...Um, let's see...I went to school...I played in the park...um...She asked, 'Did anything special happen?' and he answered..."No."

John: Oh well, that will be an on-going story.

Rick: We're going to all go to a White Sox game tonight and beat up a coach. (This was the day after the William Ligue story)

John: You were gloating all morning, weren't you?

Rick: Yes I was.

John: I told you! Cubs fans are gloating all over the city. So...the name of the child is...

Rick: Sean Harrison Kaempfer

(Baby noises in the background)

John: Is that him?

Bridget: Yup. I'll put the phone up to him.

(More baby noises)

Bonnie: He sounds like a puppy.

John: OK, Sean. That's Irish for John, right?

Bridget: Yes, technically it is. S-E-A-N.

John: Harrison, I've got to guess, is...

Rick: Let's just say it's not for Harrison Ford.

John: It's for George Harrison, isn't it?

Rick: Yes it is.

John: I knew it!

Rick: But I didn't pick Sean. That was Tommy's idea.

John: And Johnny wanted to name it...

Rick: Johnny abstained.

(Everyone laughs)

John: Johnny threw his headphones down and walked out of the Security Council meeting!

Rick: That's right.

John: Well congratulations everybody. We now have Sean's first on-air performance on tape too.

Bonnie: Are his eyes open yet?

Leslie: He's not a kitten for Pete's sake.

Rick: Blue eyes.

Bridget: He's kind of dozing right now.

Bonnie: Poke him. Wake him up.

Leslie: Isn't it good that Bonnie doesn't have children? Have you taken him out for a walk yet?

Rick: We've got newspaper all over the floor...

John: Bonnie, it's a baby.

Bonnie: Sorry...

John: Well thanks for procreating.

Rick: My pleasure.

John: I'll bet it was. And now we have the vasectomy next.

Rick: Yes we do.

Leslie: And then we'll hear Rick making baby noises.

(everyone laughs)

John: Sean Harrison Kaempfer. That's a cool name. You'll have to change your answering machine message you know.

Rick: I'll do that today.

John: Cause it says, Rick, Bridget, Tommy & Johnny can't come to the phone. Well thanks guys, and congratulations.

Rick: Bye.

Bridget: Bye.

Bonnie: Of course, it will be awhile before Sean can come to the phone.

Leslie: Whoa.

John: The next time we do anything with children, you don't talk.

Bonnie laughs.

Half Empty: How do you measure greatness?

They say that when you hit your 40s, your life is half over. We prefer to think of it as HALF EMPTY. Our age has finally caught up with our outlook on life. Remember, it is possible to turn that frown upside down...but you might pull a muscle.





By Rick Kaempfer & Dave Stern






How do you measure greatness?


It seems like such a subjective thing, but we have formulated a foolproof fact-based accounting method that can take the guesswork out of the equation.

According to our calculations, today (September 12, 2007) we will both officially surpass the talented actor/comedian John Candy.

That’s no small feat, but we’ve been surpassing some of the all-time greats over the last few decades, so we’ve really gotten used to it.

In 1981, we surpassed King Tut.

In 1987, we put James Dean in our rear-view mirror.

In the 1990s, we dusted guitarist Jimi Hendrix (’90), composer Stephen Foster (’94), actor John Belushi (’96), and Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart (’98).

We really got serious about moving beyond the all-time greats at the turn of the century.

According to our calculations, we have bested Lou Gehrig (2001), King Louis XVI of France (2002), Martin Luther King Jr. (2003), John Lennon (2004), and last year we even moved past the King of Rock and Roll Elvis Presley.

Some would have been content to stop there, but the great ones are never satisfied.

Next year, God willing, authors F. Scott Fitzgerald and Robert Louis Stevenson will have to admit that they are no Rick and Dave. The statistics don’t lie.

The following year Walter Payton will have to do the same. Before this decade ends, John F. Kennedy and Alexander Hamilton will also wish they were us.

Sorry to gloat. But it’s all we have.*





*Statistics are measured by number of years surviving on Planet Earth. Today, September 12, 2007, Dave turns 44, joining Rick in the “older than John Candy ever got” club.

Suburban Man: The Nursing Home

By Rick Kaempfer





My middle son Johnny had just left for school, when I noticed the expression on his little brother Sean’s face. My four-year-old pre-schooler was sitting on the couch, gazing out the window at the sight of his nine year old brother disappearing from view. Sean’s hands were cupping his sad little cheeks.

“He’ll be back this afternoon,” I said.

“I know,” he answered.

I wasn’t used to seeing Sean sad. I knew I had to do something to snap him out of it.

“Want to go on a field trip?” I asked. “Just the two of us?”

He eyed me suspiciously. “Where?”

“Anywhere you want,” I offered.

“Really? Anywhere?”

“Sure.”

“OK,” he said, his eyes lighting up. “Let’s go visit Uri-Oma.”

Uri-Oma is my grandmother, and Sean’s great-grandmother (“Uri-Oma” is German for “Great Grandmother”). She is 93 years old, has dementia and Alzheimer’s, doesn’t speak a word of English, and thinks she is living in the old country. The last five or six times I visited her in the nursing home, she had no idea who I was. I was depressed every time I left.

I figured I didn’t hear Sean correctly. I knew my mom dragged Sean along to the nursing home occasionally, but I didn’t know he liked it.

“You want to go to the nursing home?”

“Yes!” he said. He was totally excited about the possibility.

I hadn’t been to visit my grandmother in a few weeks, so I figured what the heck. I packed Sean in the car and drove over there. When we walked in the front door, the security guard smiled at my little boy.

“How many stickers do you want today?” he asked.

“Just two. One for me and one for Dad.”

Sean ran ahead as I signed the visitor’s log.

“C’mon Dad.”

I hurried to catch up to him. He ran to the elevator and pressed the button for the third floor like he owned the place. The elevator door opened on my grandmother’s floor and he ran ahead again.

“C’mon Dad.”

When we got to the dementia wing and Sean opened the door, it was like Norm arriving at Cheers bar. The nurses all said it at the same time.

“Sean!”

He waved at them happily, and then waved at the other residents there, nearly all of whom looked like they were receiving a puppy on Christmas morning.

When he found my grandmother, she was the most excited person on the floor. I couldn’t believe my eyes. Even before the Alzheimer’s kicked in, my grandmother was not exactly famous for her cheerful disposition. She was a tough old German woman, worn down by a lifetime of hardship. The only thing “warm and fuzzy” about her was her sweater.

And yet, there she was, leaning against a walker, smiling broadly at Sean.

“Look Uri-Oma,” he said. He stomped his feet on the ground, and his shoes lit up.

“Oooooh. Lichtie,” she said. That’s a cutesy German way of saying “light.” It would be like saying “Oh look—a little lightee.” I couldn’t believe my eyes and ears--my grandmother was talking baby-talk to my son.

“Do you know what she said?” I asked Sean.

He nodded. “She loves the shoes.”

Close enough. “Hi, Oma,” I said.

“Wer bischt du?” she asked me in her German dialect. It means “Who are you?”

I was just about to explain who I was, when Sean interrupted. “Look Uri-Oma,” he said. He pulled a little car out of his pocket.

“Oooooh,” she said.

“C’mon, Uri-Oma, let’s play,” he said, and ran ahead to a table. She shuffled after him with her walker about as fast as I’ve seen her move in five years.

“This should be good,” I thought to myself.

My grandmother sat at the table across from Sean and for the next fifteen minutes or so, they pushed the little car back and forth. Sean was talking to her the whole time, explaining the name of the car, telling her how fast it could go, and why it was so special to him. She was nodding and smiling the whole time. After the car game, Sean started doing somersaults on the floor in front of her. She clapped after each one.

For thirty minutes or so, I got a glimpse of what kind of a grandmother she might have been if her life hadn’t had been so hard, and difficult, and cruel. Those difficult years have melted away with her disease. I could tell with every smile.

And this time when we left the nursing home, for the first time ever, I wasn’t depressed.


A sad footnote: I wrote this column a few weeks ago. Last Wednesday my grandmother had a bad fall at the nursing home probably caused by a massive stroke. The doctors thought she wouldn't make it through the weekend, but as I write this now, she is still clinging to life.

Suburban Man: The DMV

By Rick Kaempfer




When the driver’s license renewal notice came in the mail a few weeks before my birthday, I groaned. Didn’t I just do that?

Not exactly. I hadn’t gone since 1998.

Nevertheless, I put it off until the day before my birthday. I had good reasons, too. The week before my birthday I got the biggest zit I’ve had since 1978. There was no way I was going to have that on my license picture for the next nine years. I decided to wait it out. That thing couldn’t last a whole week, could it?

Five days before my birthday I went to a Cubs game and sat in the sun all day. I was very careful about putting sunscreen everywhere…everywhere, that is, except my lips. The morning after the game, my lips looked like they had spent the night in a frying pan.

Now I had that big zit and fried lips. I couldn’t possibly go get my driver’s license picture taken looking like that. So I waited some more.

Two days before my birthday I was wrestling with my youngest son Sean, and he took a chunk out of my chin with his fingernails.

Now I had a big zit, fried lips, and a gaping wound. If you looked at my face quickly it looked like I had been in a bar fight.

But time had run out on me. I had no choice. I had to go the next day.

I dressed nicely hoping that nobody would notice my hideous facial disfigurement. I had practiced turning my head slightly, hoping that a quick turn would create a shadow of some kind, which would conceal the worst of my injuries.

Yup. All set. This was going to work.

I got my first surprise when I saw that there were only five people in line before me. Fantastic. This was going to be no problem. I got my second surprise when I went up to prepay and discovered that they didn’t take credit cards.

Darn.

When I returned from the closest ATM machine (a good ten minutes away), it was high noon, and the line of five people had been replaced by a line of fifty or more.

Darn.

I didn’t have any reading materials with me, either, so I sat in the only available seat and began waiting. I heard the first giggle of the guy sitting next to me about five minutes later. After that, the giggles arrived every minute or so. I had no idea what he was laughing about, but I had nothing else to do. I asked.

“Look around, man,” he said.

“What?” I asked. “The big crowd of people?”

“No, man, look around!”

I looked around again, expecting to see something hilarious. I couldn’t see anything at all. “Great,” I thought to myself, “watch me fail the vision test too.”

“I give up,” I finally said. “What is it?”

“This place is like a babe-quarium,” he said. “Look around. There are more hot chicks per capita in here than Fort Lauderdale.”

I looked around again, and my giggling next-seat neighbor was absolutely right. There were dozens of women dressed in their summer finest, hair done, makeup applied, looking their Saturday night best. I had been sitting there with absolutely nothing to do and hadn’t even noticed.

“Been married long?” he asked.

I nodded.

He elbowed me in the ribs, and then pointed to a very attractive woman two rows in front of us. “That’s my wife right there.”

“Really?” I asked.

He started laughing. “She doesn’t know it yet, but she will be.”

I was called up for my photo about fifteen minutes later. After I had received a new elbow to the ribs ten or fifteen times during my wait, I had completely forgotten about my plan to disguise my hideous facial deformities. When the picture was clicked, it all came back to me.

“Oh crap,” I said. “Can I take it again?”

“It looks fine,” the guy said, shaking his head. “Next.”

I went back to my seat and my giggling next-seat neighbor was gone. I noticed his future wife was gone too. They were both in the line of prospective photograph-ees. He had his hand up against the wall next to her, and was giving her the hard sell. She was struggling to keep a forced smile on her face.

“Kaempfer,” the photographer said. “Your license is ready.”

As soon as I saw the picture I exhaled. I forgot how small those pictures were. I couldn’t see anything: No zit, no fried lips, no gaping wound. But then again, I couldn't see the babe-quarium either. Maybe it's just that my eyes are shot.

Suburban Man: A Perfect Storm

By Rick Kaempfer





It was the worst storm to hit my home town in more than 40 years.

We were lucky. We only lost our power for 48 hours and our phone service for 72 hours. We didn’t get flooded, and we didn’t lose any trees.

My mom’s house, about two miles south of us, was not nearly as lucky. Her 50-year-old maple tree snapped like a twig, shooting branches onto her roof, her phone lines, her fence, and her neighbor’s yard.

If you ever wanted to see the effects of a tornado-like windstorm, my mom’s neighborhood is like a living weather laboratory. As you drive down the east-west street and look down each of the north-south streets, you can see a perfect line of fallen trees, mid-block, block after block after block. It looks like God was playing tree dominoes.

Unfortunately for my mom, her house was also mid-block.

Her power went out (and is still out five days later), which caused the sump pumps to fail, and caused the basement to flood. By the time she could pump out the basement, the sewer system couldn’t handle all the water at once, and backed up into her toilets—which then flooded her first floor too.

It was a nasty mess. We spent most of the weekend there helping her clean up inside and outside her home.

And you know what? It was kind of fun.

A funny thing happens to a neighborhood when everyone doesn’t have power for several days. It brings out your sense of community.

After that first night of no power, one of her neighbors lent her an extra generator. My mom, in turn, let her other neighbor hook up their sump pump to the generator too, and soon all three of them were able to pump out their basements.

Once the generators had pumped out the basements, a neighbor hooked up a chainsaw to start chopping up the huge chunks of her tree. The branches had come down with such force, that some of them were buried a foot deep in her lawn. People from up and down the street showed up to help us pull the branches out of the ground, chop them up, and carry them across the street into the park (where the village told us to put the fallen trees).

Once we had cleared off the lawn, I climbed onto Mom’s roof with a hand saw and cut the branch that had fallen onto the roof into small enough pieces that could also be lifted and carried across the street.

It took the better part of five hours to clean everything up, but without the help of a dozen or so neighbors, we would still be at it five days later.

That was the fun part.

There’s a certain amount of comfort that comes from knowing that when the going gets tough, your neighbors will be there—just as they know that you will be there for them. It’s what makes it a neighborhood.

And it’s why I don’t worry so much about my widowed mother living by herself anymore.

She’s far from alone.

Suburban Man: Radio Station Phone Home

By Rick Kaempfer






This summer presented me with an interesting challenge I hadn’t yet encountered.

I knew I would have all three boys at home with me, and I knew that I was going to be doing dozens of interviews to promote my book, but I never really considered that I would somehow have to do both of those things at the same time.

I did morning show interviews, midday interviews, afternoon interviews, evening interviews, weekend interviews, taped interviews, live interviews, and out of state interviews; and almost all of them were conducted on the phone.

If any of you have children, you can imagine the difficulties these interviews posed for a father of three boys. When kids see a parent on the phone, something happens to them. They suddenly and inexplicably desperately crave the parent’s attention or they start behaving like wild animals that shouldn’t have been released from their cages.

I have an additional problem.

My four year old son Sean loooooves talking on the phone. When the phone rings he runs to answer it. It’s not uncommon at all for him to pick up a phone in another room in the middle of a conversation and refuse to hang it up. He has no problem talking to complete strangers about topics like Pokemon until I can track him down and take the phone away from him.

So, needless to say, I had to take preventative action. Every time I was about to conduct a telephone interview with a radio station, I gathered up the boys for a family meeting.

“See this red piece of paper?” I asked them.

They all nodded.

I turned the piece of paper around. “See this cartoon legless torso?”

They all nodded.

“What’s that Dad?” Johnny asked.

“That’s somebody who walked into the basement while Dad was in the middle of his radio interview. Does everybody understand?”

They all nodded.

“What do I have in my other hand here, Sean?”

“Telephones?”

“That’s right. This is every single telephone in the house. I’m bringing them all into the basement with me. If you hear a phone ringing, what do you do?”

“Answer it?” Sean said.

I smiled patiently.

“But the phones will be in the basement,” I pointed out.

He glanced at the cartoon legless torso.

“Don’t answer it?” he tried again.

“Very good. And what will happen if I hear screaming, yelping, thumping, pounding, crying, whining, or loud crashes while I’m on the phone?”

Tommy, the eldest, pointed to the cartoon legless torso again.

“Exactly.”

I’m sure I’ll feel bad about that some day. But on the other hand, it worked like a charm.

We only had two incidents during all of my interviews, and neither one turned out to be a big deal. Sean opened the basement door right before I went on the air once, but I managed to scream “Look at the red sign on the door” just before I went on the air. Another time I heard a loud crash, followed by an audible “uh oh” while I was on the air, but they wisely took care of whatever it was before I got up there.

Other than that, they were perfect angels.

I can’t say that I was totally able to concentrate during any of the interviews because I was worried that something terrible would happen at any moment, but overall, I think they went pretty well. (You can hear some of the podcasts here).

As far as the boys and I are concerned, this story has a happy ending.

After all, all three of them still have their torsos AND their legs.

Celebrity Snippets: Boy George

Once a week long-time radio producer and author Rick Kaempfer shares his favorite brushes with greatness in a feature he calls “Celebrity Snippets.”






Boy George was the lead singer of the Culture Club.





By Rick Kaempfer



The year was 1985.

Boy George was one of the most famous singers in the entire world, and his band The Culture Club had just released their third album.

Unfortunately, their third album was a flop. The record was floundering, and the crowds were not coming out to see the concerts. I think the best way to describe how badly it was going for them was this--one day the program director of a radio station in Champaign-Urbana received a phone call offering up Boy George as an in-studio guest.

That program director was me.

I accepted the offer immediately, of course. I was also doing the afternoon show on WPGU at the time, and Boy George was far and away the biggest celebrity I ever had the opportunity to interview. I researched his controversial career diligently, and had a long list of questions ready.

He was scheduled to arrive at 4:00 p.m.

Around 3:15 one of the WPGU staffers came into the air studio to tell me that a huge crowd was forming outside the radio station door. That was certainly a new phenomenon for us, and only made me more nervous.

Around 3:45 the same WPGU staffer told me that a limo had pulled up to the door, seen the big crowd and left.

By 4:30 it was pretty clear that Boy George had been spooked by the rabid fans, and had decided to cancel the interview without telling us.

I did what any professional broadcaster would have done at that moment. I asked my friend Dave to come into the studio and pretend like he was Boy George. We were having a great time goofing around. Dave talked in the worst British accent you’ve ever heard, jokingly referred to himself as “Oy George” (Dave is Jewish), and began describing his favorite sandwiches in ridiculous detail.

Imagine our surprise when a newspaper photographer arrived at the studio about ten minutes later.

“I was listening on the radio and heard you had Boy George here,” he said.

“Did he sound like this?” I asked, pointing to Dave, who used that same horribly fake British accent in front of the photographer.

“Yeah,” the photographer said. “Where is he?”

Half Empty: Middle Aged Road Trip

They say that when you hit your 40s, your life is half over. We prefer to think of it as HALF EMPTY. Our age has finally caught up with our outlook on life. Remember, it is possible to turn that frown upside down...but you might pull a muscle.


Because tomorrow is the 30th anniversary of Elvis' death, we're re-running the piece about our recent trip to Memphis. We hope you enjoy it.




By Rick Kaempfer & Dave Stern & Dane Placko




Let us set the stage.

Rick had to go to Memphis for a media conference. He knew that Dave badly needed to get out of town (he has three little girls including twin one-year-olds), and they both knew that fellow college buddy Dane would be game for coming along. So…after getting approval from mildly disapproving spouses…the plans were made for an old fashioned boy’s road trip.

Of course, it wasn’t technically a road trip in the old-fashioned sense of the word. The idea of driving, for instance, was abandoned pretty quickly when Dave and Dane pointed out to the clueless Rick that Memphis was not “about four hours” away from Chicago.

Other than that, it was exactly like a traditional hard-core partying road trip…

*In the airport, Dane had all of his hair products confiscated by security. Dane, a news reporter, had no idea that these were no longer allowed in carry-on bags. The airport security man was kind enough to pose for this picture with Dane’s confiscated items.


*In the airport, Dave bought three bagels. When the total came to $8.10, Dave asked if they offered a financing plan.


*Our first meal in Memphis (lunch) was memorable. When the waitress brought Dave’s lunch, she slammed it on the table and snapped—“YOUR PLATE BURNED MY HAND!”


*Dane and Dave were eager to go to Mississippi, just a few minutes away from Memphis, although they had very different reasons.
=Dane wanted to cross Mississippi off his state list. He now has been to every state but Alaska, Hawaii, Vermont, Texas, New Mexico and Oregon. Rick and Dave were just as impressed as you are.
=Dave, the same man that calls his mother every day and uses the parking brakes every single time he parks the car just like they taught him in Driver’s Ed, is actually a maniacal gambler, and knew that Mississippi has casinos.


*Rick and Dane walked around the casino looking at gamblers. Not one smile in the entire casino. Dave was one of the “happy” gamblers, sitting at the $5 blackjack table. Only the smallest bladder on the planet (or possibly an enlarged prostate) prevented him from remaining there to this day.


*While Rick attended his conference the following day, Dane & Dave went to Sun Studios and took the very cool tour there. That's Dane on the left standing in the exact spot Elvis recorded “That’s Alright Mama.” That's Dave on the right, proudly singing about getting the AAA discount even though his card had expired.


*Rick got home from the conference just in time to break up the fight between Dane and Dave. Dane wanted to go to the Cotton Museum. Dave said he would rather be poked in the eyes by Liza Minnelli.


*That night we explored Beale Street, the party center of Memphis. After an incredible BBQ dinner, we settled in at a blues bar. After one of Dave’s three trips to the bathroom, he claimed to have spotted Dennis Quaid. Rick and Dane would have been much more impressed by Randy Quaid.


*Next stop: Pat O’Briens. The Memphis version of the famous New Orleans nightspot is almost an exact duplicate of the original. A rock and roll cover band was playing Van Halen in the courtyard. Rick and Dave wandered out to listen. Dane yelled “This is too loud!” and went to the dueling piano bar to listen to the Billy Joel medley instead.


*After a night of drinking, we stopped in for a late night burger. After we ordered the burgers, Dane noticed they weren’t being made on a grill. They were being boiled in a vat of animal fat. Mmmm.


*The night came to end when Dave’s “throbbing headache” had to be relieved with a medication cocktail that included Tylenol and Ambien.



*The following morning, the three middle aged travelers went to Graceland, where we suddenly didn’t feel so old.





*Dave got a little cocky at Graceland. He tried to get the student discount with his University of Illinois student ID card from 1985. “1985 Dave” had a full head of hair. “2007 Dave” has a gray goatee, and a shiny polished dome. The cashier didn’t go for it. This is her reaction when we tried to take her picture.



*Rick was grumbling that there weren’t any new Graceland snow domes since his last visit, so he bought an Elvis/Nixon magnet instead. This is the geek by Elvis’ grave.



*Lunch at Corky’s was the best meal of the trip…an unbelievable BBQ pork meal. Dave went to the bathroom there twice. Dane told Dave that he would make a provision in his will donating his bladder to Dave.




*After lunch, Rick and Dave took a nap. Dane went to the Cotton Museum by himself. If you ever meet him, ask to see the video. He videotaped the experience on his cell-phone, but we couldn't figure out how to upload it here.




*Not wanting to go out drinking again, the boys settled on an excursion to Arkansas for their last night. It wasn’t until they arrived at the dog track that Dane & Rick realized why Dave was so excited about this…it was attached to a casino.



*If you ever feel like you are at the lowest point in your life, remember this: You haven’t hit rock bottom until you spend a Saturday night at a dog track in Arkansas.


*Although...the bar was serving 20 ounce Michelob beers for 50 cents a piece. Rick had three dollars in his pocket and a song in his heart.





*Dane picked the winners of the first two dog races. After that, not so much. This is Dane tearing up his betting slips.




*Dave got in a poker game, and was one $250 pot away from losing everything. When he didn’t lose the hand, he got out, and didn’t return. Although, he did stop at the video poker machines on his way back from his second bathroom trip.



*The night ended when Rick got heartburn. He bought Pepto Bismol in the hotel gift shop…at the nicer hotel next door.




*The next morning when we checked out of the hotel, Dave asked the clerk to name the most famous person who ever stayed at their hotel. She said: “The tall guy from the TV show ‘Martin’ had his family reunion here.” Top that.


So, was our middle aged road trip fun? I know it might not sound like it, but we had a great time. Will we do it again? Probably.

Next time, though, Dave is getting a catheter.

Suburban Man: The Behavior Board

By Rick Kaempfer



I don't want to alarm anyone by being too positive, but this has actually been a pretty good summer for my family.

No broken bones.

Lots of quality time with the boys.

But most importantly, the number of fights in my house have decreased ten fold over the previous two summers. How have I achieved this miracle?

You may remember my solution for the constant fighting the past few years: The Fight Board. The Fight Board's modest goal was to have less than 50 fights for a summer. Unfortunately, this proved to be an unattainable goal. The best we did the last two years was 110 fights.

This year I decided not to bring back the fight board. I decided that the fight board had a few flaws. For one thing, Johnny was the one in the middle of every fight--so really I was punishing all three boys for the sins of one. For another thing, it was mainly a negative reinforcement tool...very short on incentives for positive behavior.

So this year, I adapted it slightly. The fight board was dismissed and replaced by the behavior board. I scanned it here so you could take a look at it.


















The behavior board* works the same way as the fight board in one way. Bad behavior is still punished by receiving a mark on the board. This year, however, it wasn't only fighting that received a mark. This year, I expanded the infractions so that it affected each boy equally. Sean had become a whiner...he whined whenever he didn't get his way. Tommy had become an incredibly bad listener...I had to say the same thing to him up to ten times before he heard me. So, whining and bad listening were added to the sins that merited a mark on the behavior board.

That way I was working on all three boys, not just Johnny. But since Johnny's infractions are always more severe (and potentially injury-causing or life-threatening), I added a caveat to the fighting punishment.

This year if the boys could go an entire day without fighting, I promised to eliminate ten marks from the board. That, combined with the punishment (More than ten marks on the board at any time means they can't use any electronics in the house including computer, video games, television, iPod, etc), did the trick.

The fighting has almost completely stopped. Oh sure there was that one time when Johnny slammed Sean's head into the car door because he wanted to get in the car first (I'm sure Mario Andretti was the same way as a child), and there was that other time that Johnny punched Tommy after he lost a game of chess (I'm sure Bobby Fisher was the same way), but the incidents that used to be a daily occurance in the old fight board days have all but disappeared.

When Johnny gets that look in his eyes, I remind him that he is blowing his chance to get ten marks taken off the board. If this doesn't slow down the rampaging stallion, his brothers step in to talk sense to him. Johnny has learned to go in his room, close the door, and blow off steam without injuring someone.

Sean's whining has also gotten muuuuuuuuch better. If the number of marks on the board is anywhere near ten, all I have to do is point at the board when he starts whining, and the whining ends immediately. Tommy is even listening better...although let's face it, this is a handy tool, but it's not a miracle worker. He's probably not actually listening better, he just has more than one person telling him things now. His brothers make sure he does what he's supposed to do when Dad starts getting that "this is the fifth time I'm telling you" tone in my voice.

I'll take it.

It might not work for you, but the behavior board has made this the best summer of my stay-at-home-Dad career. And that's good enough for me.



*Sean is in charge of crossing off the ten marks on days they don't fight. As you can tell, he likes colorful markers.

Celebrity Snippets: Joan Collins

Once a week long-time radio producer and author Rick Kaempfer shares his favorite brushes with greatness in a feature he calls “Celebrity Snippets.”




Joan Collins is probably most famous for her role as Alexis in the 1980s television series "Dynasty".




To me, the most memorable interviews aren’t the great ones. They’re the terrible ones.

Whenever I think of the worst interviews I’ve ever been associated with in my career, there’s one name that always comes to mind first: Joan Collins.

In the mid-90s, one of the big radio syndicators was experimenting with offering satellite interviews from New York. The idea was that a celebrity could sit in a radio studio, and do ten minute interviews in virtually every major market, and it would sound as if they were in the studio with each host.

The radio stations liked the idea because the sound quality was better than phone interviews. On the other hand, the split second satellite delay had a tendency to throw off the timing of the interviews. The host and guest often talked over each other, stopping and starting sentences; waiting for the other to continue. (You’ve probably seen the same phenomenon in satellite television interviews. Annoying, isn’t it?)

If only that was the problem with the Joan Collins interview.

Joan Collins arrived for her morning interviews with freshly done hair, and she made it known to the producers in New York that she absolutely would not wear headphones. I could hear the negotiations over the satellite as we prepared for the interview. The producers told her that she wouldn’t be able to hear the questions without her headphones, but she wouldn’t budge from her demands.

Instead of telling her she had no choice, they decided to rig up a tiny speaker so that she could hear the questions without mussing her hair.

Unluckily for us, we were the first interview.

As soon as John Landecker asked her a question, we heard the feedback. When she tried to answer the questions, we heard feedback. When we tried to play an audio clip of the movie she was promoting, we heard feedback. It had been going on for about a minute, but it seemed like an hour. It was horrible radio.

John finally said to her, “Listen, lady, you’re gonna have to put on your headphones and turn off that speaker. This is ridiculous.”

When she wouldn’t do it, John ended the interview.

We went to a commercial break, and listened in on the satellite to hear what she was saying about the interview to the people in New York. The first thing we heard her say was: “Well, he was a rude little bastard, wasn’t he?”

Yeah, Joan.

John was the rude one.






This story (and scores of others) can also be found in my first book “The Radio Producer’s Handbook,” which is still available at amazon.com

Suburban Man: Performance Food

By Rick Kaempfer





Until recently, it’s been nearly impossible to find a restaurant that all three of my boys will enjoy.

Johnny loves pizza, but his brothers don’t. Sean & Johnny love German food (any kind of sausage), and Tommy won’t touch it. Tommy likes Mexican food, but his brothers can’t stand it. Johnny likes Chinese food, but his brothers scream at the mere mention of it. Sean and Johnny will tolerate (fried) seafood, but Tommy would rather eat dirt.

There are exactly two establishments on our list of restaurants acceptable to all three boys: McDonald’s and Burger King. (And yes, I realize it’s a stretch to call either one a restaurant). Even with these two, an argument is bound to ensue. Tommy & Johnny prefer Burger King. Sean prefers McDonald’s.

Needless to say, we don’t go out much.

So when Bridget told me she wanted to go out to dinner for her birthday this year, and she claimed to have a bold new plan to get the boys to eat at a respectable restaurant, I checked her temperature.

“So where do you want to go?” I asked.

“Benihana.”

“Japanese food?” I asked, picturing a scene to end all scenes.

“They’ll love it,” she said. “When those chefs start chopping the food and flipping it in the air, the boys will be enthralled.”

It sounded good, but I’ve been burned too many times with other “good” ideas. I sat through the painful dinner at the restaurant with the playground. (“Can I go play now? Can I go play now? Can I go play now?”). I spent $70 for the right to watch the boys hold their ears in front of untouched plates at the unbelievably loud Rainforest Café. I choked down the worst hamburger of all-time just so the boys could watch a little choo-choo train deliver the dinner they didn’t eat at the Choo-Choo diner. This sounded like another one of those “good” ideas.

But it was Bridget’s birthday, so I went along with it.

This time, Bridget was right. From the first moment the chef starting chopping and catching the food in his hat, the boys were on the edge of their seats. When the chef refused to continue the show unless the boys ate the meat in front of them, they dug right in.

“Is this shrimp?” Johnny asked.

I thought about lying, but I nodded instead.

“I love it!” he screamed.

That even got Tommy to taste it. I almost fell off my chair. By the end of the dinner, all three boys had eaten food they never would have touched, and all of them loved it.

The following week we were on our way to visit my brother in Michigan and the traffic in Chicago was terrible. Bridget suggested we get off the highway and grab some dinner in Greek Town.

Again, I paused.

“Greek food?” I asked.

“They’ll love it,” she said. “We can get them Saganaki.”

“I’m not eating that,” Tommy whined.

I raised my eyebrows at her, remembering the success we experienced at Benihana.

“OK,” I said. “Greek Town it is!”

The whining ended the second we walked into the restaurant. A waiter walked by, screamed “Oopa”, and set a plate of cheese on fire. The flame actually touched the ceiling of the dining room.

“WOW!” Tommy yelped.

That night, for the first time since we became parents, all five of us ordered real food at a real restaurant and ate a real meal like real people. No kids menu. No chicken fingers. No complaining.

See that light at the end of the tunnel there?

I’m starting to believe that I actually might get my life back some day.

Celebrity Snippets: Walter Payton

Once a week long-time radio producer and author Rick Kaempfer shares his favorite brushes with greatness in a feature he calls “Celebrity Snippets.”






Walter Payton was one of the greatest football players of all-time; a member of the NFL Hall of Fame. When he retired in 1987 he held the record for most rushing yards in NFL History. If he were still alive, he would have turned 53 years old this week.






Walter Payton was simply my all-time favorite football player. Growing up in Chicago as a Bears fan, there was no one even close.

I didn’t actually meet him in person, however, until a few years after he retired from the game. It was 1993, and our radio station (WJMK) was doing a remote broadcast from Carson’s, a large (since departed) department store in downtown Chicago. The sponsored remote was to promote the new line of throwback football jerseys for sale, and three all-time NFL greats were on hand to sign autographs; Dick Butkus, Ray Nitschke, and Walter Payton.

We were excited about the possibilities about doing a show with these three guys, but discovered quickly that it was going to be a little different than we were told. The players made it quite clear to us that they didn’t consider participating in a radio show part of their paid appearance. As far as they were concerned, they were strictly there to sign autographs.

Every time John Landecker put the microphone in front of them, he got nothing. Dick Butkus was particularly nasty about it. He looked like he was going to punch John. Ray Nitschke, who had previously been on our show and seemed to be a pretty cooperative guy under other circumstances, merely grunted, or gave one or two word answers to John’s questions.

Walter Payton treated the appearance of the microphone as an excuse to pinch John. It got a good laugh in the store, but it wasn’t exactly spellbinding radio. In fact, we were beginning to think this was going to go down as one of our all-time worst broadcasts.

Luckily, just as were about to throw in the towel, John noticed that while the Sam Cooke song “Bring it on home” was playing on the radio, Walter Payton was singing along.

John grabbed his live microphone, and said. “Stop the music. Stop it for a second.”

The board operator back at the station did as he was told. John continued. “Good. Now start the Sam Cooke song again. This time we’ve got a special treat for you. This time Sam Cooke will be accompanied on lead vocals by Chicago Bears Hall of Famer Walter Payton.”

The song started again, and sure enough, Walter Payton grabbed the microphone from John and really got into it, belting out Sam Cooke with all of his heart.

He got a standing ovation in the store, but more importantly for us, his singing went out over the airwaves.

It was such a big hit, in fact, we eventually released Walter’s version of the song on our sixth Landecker & the Legends CD, 20th Century Hits and Bits.

Half Empty: More Fun with Passive-Aggressive Behavior

They say that when you hit your 40s, your life is half over. We prefer to think of it as HALF EMPTY. Our age has finally caught up with our outlook on life. Remember, it is possible to turn that frown upside down...but you might pull a muscle.






By Rick Kaempfer and Dave Stern






A few weeks ago we gave you some tips for how to annoy your boss by using passive aggressive behavior. That inspired the following e-mail...

Dear Rick and Dave,

I really enjoyed your column about aggravating your boss. The problem is, I’m only at work 40 – 50 hours a week, how can I needle other people in my down time? –B

We’re glad you asked, B. Since neither of us work in a traditional office setting anymore, we have been forced to hone our passive-aggressive skills elsewhere. Here are a few:

-The cashier
When paying, give them odd amounts of currency. For example, if the bill comes to $7.89 give them $13.62. It’s great fun watching their brows furrow as they punch the figure into the cash register. Then be very deliberate and slow counting your change. Not only will you aggravate them, but the people behind you too, it’s win-win.

-Secondary users of your vehicle
If you’re married, chances are that from time to time you will share vehicles. Wives, if you know that your husband will drive your car next, move the seat as close to the dashboard as possible. Also, move all the mirrors in bizarre and ridiculous positions. Take it from us, we absolutely LOVE spending ten minutes adjusting everything. Also, leave zero gas in the car, that’s a real nice touch. And last but not least, find the classic rock station and turn the radio up as far as it can go.

-Blockbuster Clerks
They are trained to say hello to every single person that walks through the door in the most annoyingly cheerful way possible. The next time they do, stop to say hello and have a fifteen minute conversation with them about the most trivial topic you can imagine. For instance...

Them: Hi, welcome to Blockbuster.

You: Hey how ya doing? Is that a new vest you guys are wearing? What’s it made of? Polyester? You know polyester is Synthetic resin formed by the condensation of polyhydric alcohols (alcohols containing more than one hydroxyl group) with dibasic acids (acids containing two replaceable hydrogen atoms). Polyesters are thermosetting plastics, used for constructional plastics and, with glass fibre added as reinforcement, they are used in car bodies and boat hulls. Polyester is also a major synthetic fibre used for knitting or weaving fabrics which are strong but lightweight, and resist creasing but can be heat-set into pleats. Polyester is often mixed with other fibres and can be found in a wide range of different textiles.

-Cab Drivers
When stopped behind a cabbie at a stop light, get ready to honk your horn the nano-second the light turns green. When in front of a cabbie, stop your vehicle and check your oil in front of them.

-People that stay in the hotel room after you
Set all the alarm clocks to 4:30 AM. Hide the remote. Make all the pictures in the room a little crooked. Above all, don’t stay in the same hotels we do.

-Moms at the carnival
Go to one of those rickety carnivals in a strip-mall parking lot. Find a mom who is watching her child on one of the scariest rides. Without her seeing, put a couple of big gears and screws on the ground in front of the ride. Finally, innocuously point them out to her. The fun won’t stop as she screams in horror and pleads with the toothless carny worker to stop the ride.

Finally, write a blog entry with absolutely no social or intellectual value and watch hundreds of people waste their time reading it.

Mean, yes. But oh so fun.

Suburban Man: The Interactive Billboard

By Rick Kaempfer







I will be sending the following e-mail to some people in my e-mail address book this week. I thought you might appreciate the way my children are rallying to their dad's side to help sell my book "$everance."

I've probably already told you about my satirical novel (“$everance”) that explains who and what really runs the media, but you’d be surprised how difficult it is to get the word out in the media about a book that exposes the truth about the media…

Some authors faced with such a seemingly insurmountable dilemma and an advertising budget of zero, might be deterred or overwhelmed. Not me.

I’ve created the world’s first truly interactive billboard.


I know this looks like a very fancy billboard, but it’s really just my three sons facing a blank wall, waiting for someone to walk by and look at it. When someone does, this amazing billboard “comes to life.”

The first boy turns around and says: “Severance is available at www.encpress.com”

The second boy turns around and says: “It’s only $16 if you order right now.”

And the third boy is supposed to turn around and say, "That's a heck of a deal for a "hysterical critique of corporate morality" that is "told with the keen insight of an industry insider", and is, take your pick: "laugh out loud funny", "yeah, that funny", "brilliant satire", "great, funny, sarcastic, and thought-provoking" or "whiplash-fast choke-on-your-coffee funny"."

(All actual quotes from actual reviews. See them all here: Praise for $everance)

Unfortunately, he's only 4, and he usually says "Dad, this is stupid."

I suppose I could try another way. I could ask people to help spread the word by forwarding this e-mail to people who may enjoy the book. Or I could ask people to suggest "$everance" for their book clubs. Or I could just ask people to help rescue these children from the humiliating experience by spending a measly $16 right now by clicking here (www.encpress.com)

Or.... the boy could learn his lines and deliver them with feeling. What are they teaching these kids in pre-school these days?

Maybe we'll see you this summer. The boys and I will be traveling around the country looking for blank walls that are just screaming for an interactive billboard. With any luck, I'll sell enough books to allow them to go back to school in the fall.

If not, acquiring the salesmanship skills and street smarts this project will teach them will more than make up for what they miss in 6th grade, 4th grade, and pre-Kindergarten, respectively. Don't you think?

Celebrity Snippets: Minnie Minoso

Once a week long-time radio producer and author Rick Kaempfer shares his favorite brushes with greatness in a feature he calls “Celebrity Snippets.”




Minnie Minoso was one of the all-time greatest Chicago White Sox players. He set a major league record in 1980 when Bill Veeck brought him back for two at-bats, allowing him to have played in the major leagues in 5 different decades (40s, 50s, 60s, 70s, and 80s).




During this baseball All-Star week, it only seems fitting to write about my encounters with a former All-Star--former White Sox great Minnie Minoso.

Minoso was the center of controversy last year when a special Hall of Fame committee decided that he was not qualified to be inducted into the Hall of Fame. This caused quite a bit of outrage amongst White Sox fans (and several baseball historians), because it was probably Minoso's final chance to get in the Hall.

I've met Minnie many times over the years. He lives in Chicago, and every time I called him up and asked him to appear at one of the John Landecker Show's live broadcasts, he happily agreed. He would show up with a pile of promo pictures and patiently autograph them for anyone who wanted one. He is a heck of a guy.

Now if you've ever heard Minnie speak, you know that his English is very shaky--even after living here for more than fifty years. (He was supposedly the inspiration for the SNL character who always said "Baseball has been berry berry good to me.") So why would we have someone who could barely speak the language on our radio program? Well, the event we invited him to every year was our annual Mini-Golf fund raiser. We invited several local celebrities to participate, but Minnie was always our star attraction. Bob Sirott from "Fox Thing in the Morning" always sent over a TV crew to simulcast Minnie's portion of our show. Why? Same joke every year.

Bob: Is that Minnie Minoso there, John?
John: Let me ask him. What's your name?
Minnie: Minnie Minoso.
John: What are you playing?
Minnie: Mini-Golf.

Here's a picture from our first tournament. Standing from left: John Landecker, White Sox organist Nancy Faust, Santa Claus, WJMK afternoon man Scott Miller, Sidekick Vicki Truax and her daughter Teddi, Barry Newman (singer from the Crests), Radio hall of famer Larry Lujack, Carl Giamarese (singer from the Buckinghams), Minnie Minoso, Late sportscaster Tim Weigel, Ronnie Rice (singer from the New Colony Six), Elvis, and Ronald McDonald (This was a benefit for Ronald McDonald House). Kneeling in front holding the sign: Rick Kaempfer & WJMK Promotions Director Michelle Dirks.

I'm not qualified to render an opinion about whether or not Minoso belongs in the baseball Hall of Fame, but I will say this...

Minnie has been berry berry good to me.

Suburban Man: Annoying Dad

By Rick Kaempfer








I get a fair amount of e-mails from readers, but I usually answer them one-on-one. The following e-mail, however, had to be shared in a public forum. My sons insisted.

Rick,
Your Suburban Man column about taking the boys to the city was precious. I hope they appreciate what a fun dad they have.
Mary

I printed out the e-mail and showed it to Tommy, and he couldn't believe it. He said: "Didn't she read my guest blog from last Father's Day?"

I'm guessing she didn't. He has graciously allowed me to reprint a portion of it here.

I’m going to give you my top five most annoying things about Dad.

5. Dad does this ‘short-term memory’ thing that drives me crazy. Once he thought I was my brother, Johnny. “Well, hello, Johnny.”
“Daaaad...”
“Johnny, cut it out.”
“Daaaaaaaaad, I’m TOMMY.”
“Don’t be silly.” I ran off to Johnny to show him.
“This is Johnny.”
“You’re getting weird, Johnny. That’s Tommy.”
I don’t EVER want that to happen again.

4. Og. I just can’t take this anymore. Once I told Dad that his jokes were twice as old as him. He took that as a challenge. The very next day, he gave me a smelly joke about Calvin Coolidge. “I guess Mr. Coolidge was a pretty calm guy,” I remarked after the joke. “That’s the point of the joke,” he replied. I heard quite a few VERY weird jokes that day. I haven’t really heard much of his ‘new material’ again.

3. This thing Dad has done for the last 10 (that’s how old I am, for your information) years has annoyed me for life. He says the lyrics of songs that I think s t i n k.

2. This is pretty much the same as 3, but he SINGS the songs instead.

1 (Tie). This has tortured me for a lifetime. First of all, when I don’t want to get up in the morning, he threatens to use the “Pinching Machine” or to tickle. The Pinching Machine is his own hands, of course. The Pinching Machine always will get me out of bed.

1 (Tie). Dad’s voices. The worst is his voice of Grover. We used to have a punishment system when he would hear me talking with Johnny at night. First warning, he would take away our teddy bears. A second time, there would be no Nintendo DS. Third, someone would go upstairs in Mom’s and his room. Fourth, (although impossible), Dad would sing all the songs on his iPod as Grover. I’ve hated the Grover (and technically, Yoda) voice since I was 4 or 5.

So now you know what makes me say “daaaaaaaaaad”. Here he comes right now. He says he ate my Nintendo for lunch. DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAD!

Then I showed Mary's e-mail to Johnny and Sean.

"Don't you think Mary is right?" I asked.

They laughed.

"Daaad," Johnny said. "You're annoying."

"Annoying how?" I asked. Johnny and Sean answered in rapid fire fashion, almost without breathing to pause.

"When you pitch, you throw it at my head."

"Stoink is not a word, Dad, and it's not my name."

"I hate your Goofy voice."

"You tackle and tickle and pinch"

"Your 'forever hugs' are annoying, when you say that you'll hug me so long that I'll have to bring you with me to school, and we'll still be hugging when I get married unless I say the passwords."

"And you change the passwords. That's no fair."

"Whoa," I said. "Hold it right there. That's totally unfair. There are only two passwords, and you know both of them."

Johnny said one of them: "Go Cubs."

And Sean rolled his eyes as he said the other one: "Dad looks so young."

Hmmm.

Does that answer your question, Mary? Let's just say that "Fun" and "Dad" are never uttered in the same sentence in my house.

Although...that could be the new password.

Suburban Man: Field Trip Friday

By Rick Kaempfer

(Photos by Tommy Kaempfer)



Last summer we experimented with the concept of doing field trips every week to enjoy the culture of Chicago. It didn’t work out.

This year I scaled back the plans. No more museums (unless all three boys want to go), and no more full-day excursions (dad isn’t getting any younger).

So, with those new rules in mind, we dipped our toes back into the summer field trip waters.


The train

The boys were shocked when I agreed to take the train into the city. I always prefer driving because of the additional flexibility, but I could see they really wanted to do it, so I relented.

Unfortunately the train was packed, so we all had to sit in one double seat—and I feared this was a sign of things to come. Each boy wanted to sit by the window, and the whining had already commenced, when Tommy shocked me.

“Why don’t we take turns?” he suggested. “Each of us can have the seat for two train stops at a time, and then we rotate.”

Of course, Tommy had already looked at the train schedule, and figured out the number of stops. If he went first, he knew he would get the window twice, and the other two would only get it once. He looked at me, waiting for me to make it completely fair.

I didn’t drop a dime on him, and the other two never noticed.


Millennium Park


Our first stop was free—the beautiful Millennium Park along Lake Michigan. Sean (age 4) loved the big Crown fountain spewing water at unsuspecting tourists. He pranced and splashed in the water with a huge smile on his face. Tommy (age 11) loved it too. He snapped pictures and enjoyed the mist in the air taking the edge off a hot summer day.




Johnny (age 9) wasn’t impressed. He expected a park…with slides and monkey bars and see-saws. As soon as we arrived he started demanding that we explore the rest of the park, looking for the playground. I knew that Millennium Park didn’t have one, so I directed us toward the next best thing…the gigantic mirrored bean. It was a huge hit. We probably stayed there for thirty minutes, looking at it from every angle, taking pictures, and looking at the strange reflections. We would still be there if Sean’s tummy didn’t start talking to him.

“I’m hungry, Dad, I’m hungry.”


McDonald’s

We had walked by a McDonald’s on our way from the train station to Millennium Park, so the boys all wanted to eat lunch there. Normally, I just say no to that question out of reflex. Not today…today we ingested the grease and liked it.

In the middle of lunch two construction workers sat down at the table next to us. They took off their helmets to expose their bandana-covered heads. Sean nearly leapt out of his seat with excitement.

“Dad!” he yelped. “LOOK! PIRATES!”




Sears Tower





Despite having lived in Chicago for most of my life, I don’t think I had ever been to the Observation Deck at the Sears Tower. So, when Johnny suggested we go there, and I could see that it was just few blocks away, I shocked all three boys with my answer.

“Sure,” I said. “What the heck.”

I gulped when I saw the prices ($9.50 for kids, $12 for adults), but I had already said yes, so I bit my tongue and shelled out the $40+. Tommy looked at my facial expression while I was paying and said: “Dad, you won’t regret this. It will be worth it, I promise.”

I began to agree with him when they showed us a movie about the history of the Sears Tower, and all three boys were captivated. And I definitely agreed with him when I saw all three boys bounding toward the windows of the observation deck, mouths agape. Granted, my heart almost stopped when Sean smashed into the window, but those windows proved to be 4-year-old-proof.

Tommy even took this amazing photo of our first stop of the day: Millennium Park.















Back Home Again

When we returned home around 3:30, after another crowded train ride, something truly amazing happened.

Each of them, one by one, thanked me for taking them on such a wonderful field trip. Nobody had prompted or nagged them to do it either.

I guess you know what that means.

Field Trip Friday is here to stay.