Long before this week's primaries I knew Barack Obama would likely win the Democratic nomination.
I don't base this supposition on polls or prognosticators. Rather, I've concluded that Obama will get the nod because he's wearing Starfleet sideburns. This isn't the first time I've allowed popular culture to shape my opinion of the Illinois senator. I've already remarked that he looks a lot like Clutch Cargo.
As for the other candidates...
If I were being mean, I'd suggest that Hillary Clinton fills the same ecological niche as Dr. Janice Lester, a former lover of Capt. Kirk's who resents his success in a male-dominated universe and uses a machine to perform a brain switcheroo.
But I'm not mean, so instead I'll note the similarities between Hillary and Nurse Christine Chapel, who is secretly in love with Mr. Spock but knows that nothing will come of it -- at least in the short run. Just about now, I think Hillary is beginning to realize that she's not going to play kissyface with Mr. Ears anytime in the near future.
John McCain's "Star Trek" counterpart is an easy one: He's Capt. Christopher Pike, the original commander of the USS Enterprise who was captured, imprisoned and tortured by the Talosians in the series' unsold pilot episode.
And although Pike is a warrior, he is increasingly reluctant to choose violence as a way to solve problems and is especially fretful over sending those he commands into deadly situations.
So, does all this mean that Obama is the "logical" choice? What do you think?
PHOTO CREDIT
Barack Obama photo by Jerry Richardson reproduced by permission under Creative Commons. Click on the photo to see the original, or go to Flickr.
Here at ChicagoScope, we often talk about portion sizes -- and how suburban restaurants seem to serve much larger amounts of food. Far too often, quantity tries to make up for quality. Thankfully, that's not the case at Topa Tavern and Grill. The Elk Grove Village establishment features "American eclectic" cuisine that's uniformly excellent -- and uniformly big.
Back when I attended Community College of Denver, I always enjoyed presentations from a photography instructor who tried to impress upon us the fact that whenever we took a picture, we froze a moment in time. I've forgotten this instructor's name, but I remember her words whenever I pick up a camera.
She emphasized that we should occasionally take pictures of the ordinary images of our lives, since these glimpses would tell future generations the most about the present day. And she's right about that. Anybody who's ever glanced through family photos can see this instantly. I recently watched some Super 8mm movies I'd shot back in college and was immediately struck by how alien the hairstyles, gas prices and automobiles appeared.
And just the other day, I was sorting through some photos I shot of Jefferson Park commercial buildings -- and was glad that I'd photographed the outside of the barber shop where I had my hair cut for so many years because it's now closed.
It's true, you see: Press the button and you've recorded history.
Thanks to the World Wide Web, it's easy to see historical photos -- most of which probably were not considered to be anything special at the time. Yet time itself has given these images power and meaning.
One of my favorite repositories of images is The Library of Congress. I spend most of my time there searching through the Prints & Photographs Online Catalog. I especially enjoy the color photographs in the Farm Security Administration section, which provide a much different visual record of the Depression than the usual Dorothea Lange "Migrant Mother" stuff does.
A cynical observer might even suggest that the FSA knew that stark black-and-white images would have greater propaganda value than the warm slides a minority of its photographers shot. There's no denying that a color tells a very different story -- or at least compels the viewer to infer a very different one. Maybe that's why so few color photos were taken; or maybe color work was so expensive they didn't have the budget for it. Whatever the reason, the differences are striking.
At the top of this posting are black-and-white and color versions of one of my favorite photos from the FSA color archives titled "Negro boy near Cincinnati, Ohio." The record states the photo was shot in 1942 or 1943 by John Vachon, but there's no other information.
Looking at the monochrome version of the photo (which I created in Photoshop), it's not difficult to imagine this kid's tough life and the gritty, hardscrabble existence his family might have endured. This little boy's world is gray, his clothes are gray, and there's little optimism here.
By contrast, the original slide (probably shot in the still-relatively new Kodachrome process) allows us to see that although he's probably poor, this kid has on clean clothes and has even completed the ensemble with a derby. His life no doubt has its challenges, but maybe this was a good day for the little guy. Maybe he's on his way to the store on the right, whose bright red Coca-Cola sign is all but lost in the black-and-white version. Maybe he's getting a Coke -- or perhaps a Nehi!
It's also insightful to view FSA photos of places in your own town. I liked the photo at right, taken of the Wrigley Building and Chicago Tribune Tower from a vantage point in the Illinois Central train yards -- now occupied by the Illinois Center office, hotel and retail development.
This photo by Jack Delano from April 1943 suggests that the Tribune Tower is long overdue for a steam-cleaning. The original image is a 4-by-5-inch Kodachrome transparency -- and the Library of Congress site allows visitors to download a high-resolution TIFF version, which provides for a lot of close-up inspection of building windows and human activity. Lots of photos on the Library of Congress site are like this.
Another great photo resource is the Denver Public Library's Western History and Genealogy Section. I often enjoy searching through the DPL's visual record of how the Denver I knew as a child grew up and grew old.
However, I've never found a photo of one of my most-vivid childhood memories of visiting the library's main facility at the Civic Center: a little circle of desks in the children's section made to resemble a merry-go-round.
We received some interesting responses to our assertion that Kraft Macaroni & Cheese Dinner is the gold standard by which all other mac-and-cheese recipes are judged. Missy from Chicago's Northcenter neighborhood says that Annie's is the best. Joe from Cheap Date weighs in on Chef Boyardee Pizza Kit, plus gives his opinion on Old Country Buffet -- whose mac and cheese he praises.
Finally, my colleague Marco talks about his own experiences with the Kraft product, and states that macaroni and cheese is the official food of latchkey children.
Many thanks to Phil Clark of The Brit and Yankee for sending me that crazy World War II radio spot for Kraft Dinner. It's a riot!
Some say Thomas Jefferson introduced macaroni and cheese to the colonies, but no matter who first sent this dish steaming onto our tables, they created America's ultimate comfort food.
Although there are many brands, for just about everybody the name Kraft is synonymous with macaroni and cheese. Kraft's Macaroni & Cheese Dinner is considered the gold standard by many -- and even if it isn't, it's still the benchmark against which all others are judged.
I really wanted to like this stuff, especially since I'm a big fan of Chef Boyardee Pizza Kit -- another of my childhood comfort foods. But the Chef's take on macaroni and cheese just didn't feel fresh. The cheese lacked that zing I've grown to expect from Kraft, and to me, the macaroni's mouth feel is best described as a synthetic sort of half-overcooked, half-al dente.
Don't get me wrong, though. Kraft isn't 100 percent perfect. Ever since childhood, I've been of the opinion that they don't give you enough powdered cheese sauce mix in that little envelope. Mom vainly tried to stop me from supplementing the cheese mix with the packet from a second box until we found that Kraft sold that exact same American cheese powder. It came in a golden-yellow container that was stocked next to the company's grated parmesan cheese, usually in the spaghetti-and-spaghetti sauce section.
A few years ago, Kraft changed the look of this powdered cheese and started calling it Kraft Macaroni & Cheese Topping. The container even uses the same design as on the Kraft Macaroni & Cheese Dinner boxes.
Oddly enough, the company won't admit that people actually buy this stuff to supplement the macaroni and cheese recipe. Instead, consumers are advised to "Shake on popcorn & more!" to "Sprinkle on fish sticks, potato chips, baked potatoes, chicken nuggets, hot popcorn and vegetables" and to "Stir into chili, soup, rice, scrambled eggs, grits and mashed potatoes."
Grits?!
By the way, everyone I know who enjoys eating out is constantly in search of the perfect macaroni and cheese side dish. Leah & Dick and I have vainly sought this rare substance, and so have Bridget and Tammy at Chicago Bites.
So if anybody's found the perfect macaroni and cheese, let me know.
Jon Espenschied wrote a piece in Computerworld recently about how he was especially observant while waiting for his flight at an airport recently, and spotted a woman systemically fishing credit-card receipts from trash cans. Apart from exchanging a knowing glance, Espenschied didn't call the authorities on this person. Should he have?
Unattended bags, suspicious behavior and anything out of the ordinary are, unfortunately, causes for concern. After all, "If you see something, say something," is the message hammered home to us whenever we travel these days.
But if you see something on Chicago's Metra rail system, don't waste your breath saying anything.
That sad conclusion crossed my mind after reading Espenschied's column because I've had similarly unsettling experiences three times in about the past month on Metra, the commuter rail service linking Chicago and 230 stations in a six-county area. In my case, however, I saw something, tried to report it -- and was met with complete indifference.
It all started on Dec. 21, 2007, when I was about to board a Metra train at the Ogilvie Transportation Center. As I neared the last car, I noticed a picnic cooler sitting unattended in the vestibule. I figured this was no big deal, that some overburdened passenger had been manhandling a passel of packages onto the train and would return shortly. A couple of minutes passed and the cooler just sat there.
I wasn't about to get overly dramatic, since simple explanations are usually the correct ones. And the simple explanation was that nothing more hazardous than a ham sandwich, bag of Fritos and a couple of cans of diet soda were inside that cooler. Still, the thing shouldn't be left there.
Then, I noticed a Metra conductor walking along the platform. I approached him and told him about the unattended item in the vestibule. This guy curtly informed me he was off duty and that I'd need to alert the next conductor I saw and assured me there'd be one along soon.
"I understand that," I told him, "but we're supposed to tell you guys if we see something? You know, these times of heightened security and all?"
He repeated his desire not to be detained and hurried off. I started looking around. Other passengers were climbing aboard the train and walking right past the unattended picnic cooler without even noticing it. I wasn't scared, but I was sure getting miffed.
Finally, another conductor came by. I pointed out the cooler to him and he dismissed it with a wave of his hand. "Oh, that's mine," he told me. "I'll take care of it."
In the days that followed, I began to worry about both conductors' laissez-faire attitude toward me, so I telephoned Metra's customer service line and spoke to a representative. I wasn't too specific about the incident, since I didn't want to get some guy in trouble or fired for what I assumed was a simple lapse of judgment. When I asked what I should do in the unlikely event this happens again, the rep earnestly informed me that I should go tell someone in the glass-enclosed office at the end of the platform.
What I was hoping for was that she'd tell me they'd remind the conductors not to leave things lying about. In any event, I figured that was the end of that and that one way or another, these conductors would somehow get the message, feel somewhat embarrassed by the experience and learn to stow their lunch.
But that's not what happened.
On Jan. 3, 2008, I was boarding the train and, yep, there was that cooler again. And on Jan. 8, there it was a third time. Something tells me that this cooler is being left there unattended every day -- and since I don't ride Metra every day, I'm just not noticing.
So, what should I do? Call that railroad security phone number the next time I see this? Tell the folks in the glass-enclosed office? Do nothing? That seems to be what hundreds of other people who see this unattended cooler are doing.
Am I making too big a deal over some conductor's lunchbox? Ask someone from Madrid.
I visited Colorado recently, and talked my cousin Brian Hague into joining me on a visit to Edgewater Inn, which I consider to be one of the best pizzerias in the world.
This suburban Denver eatery has always been an outpost for great pizza.
We ordered a large pepperoni pie and soda pop and the bill came to just over $15. I know this is going to sound odd, but the pizza tastes like a high-class version of the pizza that used to be sold at the Woolworth's in downtown Denver on 16th Street. (This huge Woolworth's was pretty much an experience in cheap mercantile overload. My mom once described it as "marketplace in Calcutta.")
I've loved the city of Edgewater for a long time. The place really does have the feel of a small town. Back when I was in high school, there was nothing quite like a walk down the hill into Edgewater's major retail section at 25th Avenue and Sheridan Boulevard. There were several cafes, a liquor store, a bakery -- and my favorite, Edgewater Drug. Whatever you wanted, chances are Edgewater Drug would have it. I was especially impressed by the selection of newspapers and magazines, second only to the treasure trove at Jerry's News in Denver at Colfax Avenue and Broadway.
Sadly, both Edgewater Drug and Jerry's News are but memories. Same for the Lake Shore Drive-In Theater, which, once us kids started driving, my parents only occasionally allowed us to attend. (Deserved or not, the drive-in had a reputation as Hood Central.)
Edgewater also was home to KIMN Radio, 950 kilocycles on your AM dial -- "95 Fabulous KIMN!" They pronounced the call letters as "kim." I believe the call originally referenced the Inter Mountain Network. Although the call letters are still used, the top-40 powerhouse hasn't been around in that format (or as an AM station) for years.
We also talk about the large number of Denver streets named after Indian tribes, and wonder whether the urban legend is true that a local appeared on a game show many years back and won big money by being able to reel off all those Native American names.
RESTAURANT CONTACT INFO Edgewater Inn, 5302 West 25th Avenue, Edgewater, Colorado. Kitchen: 303-237-3524. Bar phone: 303-233-9892.
About Me
I'm Leigh Hanlon, a writer and photographer in Chicago. Before moving to the Windy City, I worked at daily and weekly newspapers in Arizona, Colorado and Wyoming.
(Photo by Marty Larkin)
Click the play button above to hear the latest podcast without leaving this page. To play an older podcast or a specific episode, click on the "POD" logo in that episode's headline or its "Direct download" link at the bottom of its show notes.
Click above to have ChicagoScope delivered free to iTunes.
Click above to have ChicagoScope delivered free to Zune. Welcome, Zunites!
Selected ChicagoScope podcasts are digitized using original analog magnetic tape from our faithful Marantz PMD222 monaural and PMD430 stereophonic cassette recorders. Otherwise, content is digitally captured with Marantz PMD660 or PMD620 recorders. During editing, some material is recorded directly into GarageBand on an Apple Macintosh PowerBook equipped with an Applied Research and Technology Tube MP preamp.
Eastman Kodak's 126 cartridge format is still going strong in a project that conscripts vintage Instamatic cameras, flashcubes and Kodacolor II film that's been frozen in suspended animation for more than 30 years.
ChicagoScope does its best to deliver full stereophonic sound whenever possible.