John Burkholder

This year has been very short sighted. But one thing has come from it that I didn’t expect. I have long hair. Not long for me hair...long hair. I have not had a haircut since the year started. It has forced me to consider if I should get a hair cut. It is not like I am walking around the office trying to present myself in professional apparel. I am lounging around in jeans and a sweater every single day.  Wait...you wear a sweater in the summer you say? Yes. My wife loves to keep the temperature in the apartment cold enough that we can store ice cream in the bedroom. So I wear a sweater all the time.  My hair has grown well below the collar. Having been in the Air Force, certain things stuck with me even after I left it.. gig lines, pant lengths, and hair cut. The gig line is an imaginary line the runs down your button down short along your belt and the front fold in your pants. This line should always be straight and the belt edge should fall on the line. Pant lengths should have a sl

I hope everyone (the one who reads this) had a great holiday. This year I was thrilled to give. My wife had a memorable Christmas in a very long time. This year Avery and I started working on it in early November. When I gift, I tend to have themes. In previous years, those themes have been wrapped around many book titles. For example, when we first moved to Chicago, I bought her a bunch of books by Chicago authors about Chicago. One year, she had a series of other persons views books like the Reluctant Fundamentalist...she says that book changed her life.  This year however, books could not be a thing. First, space is an issue. Second, Andi is getting all of her books through Audible. But I did buy her one book...The Book of Etiquette by Lady Troubridge. I purchased it used as it was listed as a hardback in need of repair. Since Andi repairs books for the Field Museum, I thought this may be a fun start for her. The book was her first gift.  The second gift was the main gift to kick of

 My wife is the shopper in this 1950s style relationship. She procures the food, goods, furniture...basically everything for the house. There was one point in our marriage she looked at me and said “you need something of your own in the house. Something I will look at and remember you for.”  I have a few things that are mine, but for the most part, my memories are about experiences and not stuff.  Back to my story...she does the shopping but there have been a few times that I pointed out she shops the hard way. When we lived In Virginia, our apartment was directly across the street from a new strip mall with a Harris Teeter. Harris Teeter is a neighborhood grocery. In that area, there is Giant, Harris Teeter, and huge everything grocery stores like Wegmans. Wegmans is about 20 minutes from where we lived.  The wife wanted to buy a mince meat pie for her grandmother and had to meet up with her cousins for pre-Thanksgiving coffee. Because it was the day before Thanksgiving, the Wegmans s

My wife and I recently had discussions about starting a business called the Soda Counter and Emporium here in Chicago. It specializes in sodas from across the US and internationally. You want Moxie from Maine or Cheerwine from North Carolina? Yep...we have it. Anyway, this took her on a tangent and she bought me a gift... a Mr. Root Beer kit . I have never made soda, beer, wine or any drink myself except tea and coffee. So the idea of making my own soft drink has a huge appeal. Root Beer is one of those drinks that everyone loves. Root Beer is even a featured drink in Star Trek: Deep Space Nine.  Quark: I want you to try something for me. Take a sip of this. Garak: What is it? Quark: A human drink. It's called root beer. Garak: I don't know.      { Garak scowls/snears } Quark: Come on. Aren't you just a little bit curious?      { Garak sighs, and cautiously drinks... } Quark: What do you think? Garak: It's vile. Quark: I know. It's so bubbly and cloy

 Some 15 years ago, my commute to the office was considerably different than most. At the time I lived in a Chicago suburb called Plainfield. Every morning I would drag myself to my car, force myself into the drivers seat, and drive to the train station in Joliet to take my commuter train downtown. There are a few previous blog entries about the train (nicknamed the Pickled Liver) and the people who were repeat offenders on said train. The train ride was one of the two highlights to my commute.  Once arriving downtown, I would walk through Union Station to the ferry which would lazily move down the river toward Michigan Avenue where I disembarked. I climbed the stairs, crossed the river, and walked into my office building in Illinois Center. Every evening, I reverse the entire course. As you can probably imagine, during the winter the boat was left out of the process. But when the boats ran, it was fantastic.  Today my commute during COVID is much more of a walk 15 steps to the living