December 24, 2011 Christmas Eve at Cindy Lou's

 Before we head out to spend Christmas Eve at the recently rebuilt home of our flowergirl Cindy Lou...

 ...we gave the dogs a Christmas treat.

 Here's the main table at Cindy's house.

 Chrissy could wait any longer, so she started eating before everyone else.

 I decided to hang out with the kids...this is Susie's camera shy girl, Grace.

 I let the kids take pictures so here are a few of the better ones...Jimmy playing video games.

 Me wearing a Packers hat. This should dispel the nasty reputation I have for hating kids. I let the one that put this fucking hat on me live...that should count for something.

 Scottie clowning around.

 Grace suddenly less camera shy.

 Audrey clowning around for the camera.

 Here's Susie with one empty bottle, one full bottle and a margarita. Looks like her Christmas wishes already came true.

 After an amazing dinner cooked by Cindy, Mark and Eric (pictured here), Eric had to answer cooking questions from the rest of us. He never should have told us he was a chef.

 Scottie relaxing after the big meal.

 Here's our camera friendly hostess, Cindy Lou enjoying a glass of wine while her sister and sister-in-law are doing the dishes.

 The kids finally got all the adults into the living room so we could begin opening the gifts.

 Sure these two pictures are alike, I couldn't decide which one was better so I posted both of them.

 Simon relaxing with his new BFF, Bernie.

Audrey thanking her Aunt Cindy for her presents.



December 23, 2011 The 2006 Christmas Letter

   Let’s start at the beginning, New Year’s Eve. The biggest party & best DJ gig of the year, I’m counting down to midnight. 4, 3, 2 , 1 Happy New Year!!!! A bunch of drunken hotties giving me New Year’s Eve kisses. NO!!!!! WHY NOT? Because I’m only pretending that it is midnight. It is only 9pm and I’m DJing at an outdoor ice rink freezing my ass off. I’m surrounded by the loser kids who couldn’t score some beer or pot and fat suburban housewives with their henpecked husbands asking me why I won’t play some stupid song from the movie “Madagascar” for their snot nosed kids. Just so you don’t think that I am a lost cause. I did smile when my niece Kristian gave me a big New Years hug & kiss when I was skating around the rink with her while my nephew Kyle filled in as DJ for me. Since the first day was so exciting, how could the remaining 364 possibly maintain that level? Unfortunately, most didn’t. A few days are worth mentioning so I did in this letter. I try to keep this little letter amusing each year while updating everyone on our lives. It gets harder every year. Chrissy says it’s the only thing about me that gets harder each year. I could gloat about the Republican’s getting the beat down they so richly deserved, but my ass will hurt for years from the fucking they gave all of us for the past 6 years…and I’m not even a congressional page nor do I associate with evangelical leaders. HEY, QUIT COMPLAINING!!! Did you really expect me to mellow with age?   

KRISTIAN

   Even though I live in the suburbs, I despise every aspect of them. The strip malls, chain stores, the lack of any creativity and individuality, the soul sucking blandness & the insistence on conformity are just a few of my complaints. I want my niece to know there are other options. My mom says I like Kristian the best because I always tell stories about her. Well, maybe that’s true because here are two more stories about the ‘little girl next door’. Chrissy was babysitting Kristian one day and played the movie “Rent” for her. She loved it. She took it home to watch it repeatedly. I made her a CD of the Broadway soundtrack. She would sing and dance to all the songs. Her favorite is the gay transvestite “Angel”. I was so proud to see my five year old niece singing songs about artists, gay & straight lovers and heroin. As luck would have it, the touring production of Rent came to Chicago, so I decided to take Kristian. She was nervous about going to the play, so Kyle went along too. As soon as we got in the car I put on the Rent CD. She starts singing along…no longer nervous. I had heard that Jonathan Larson who wrote Rent insisted that the first 2 rows only be sold day of the show. So at the box office window I am given seats in the second row. I asked the guy if Kristian would be able to see the stage from that close since I never sat that close myself. He said no problem. Then a supervisor came to the window and said “this play isn’t appropriate for a little kid”. I assured him I was familiar with the play and it was fine with me that she sees it. He shook his head and continued to protest (he must live in the ‘burbs). I shut him up by saying “you sell the fucking tickets, I’ll raise the kid!” While checking our coats Kristian got all excited because she saw Angel, it was a transvestite dressed as Angel who ended up sitting in front of us. Our seats were amazing, spoiled kid, first play and she gets 2^nd row, I told her Aunt Chrissy was going to be very jealous. Kristian loved the play, sang along to the songs and told me that Angel is a man who dresses like a woman but likes other men. There is hope that she will overcome a repressive suburban upbringing. One night we took Kristian to Café Borgia for dinner. Even though it’s an Italian restaurant, all the waiters are Mexican. I try to teach the kid something whenever I spend time with her, this night it was family heritage. I was explaining that I am Italian, Irish & German and that Chrissy is Lithuanian, Romanian, German & Polish. Since her mom is Chrissy’s sister that makes Kristian Lithuanian, Romanian (I might have said gypsy instead), German & Polish. She had trouble grasping the relationships but it was slowly sinking in as I kept explaining it. I thought she had it until I said that she was also Mexican. She thought for a moment then yells “I’M NOT MEXICAN!!! MY DAD IS”!!! The waiters all stop and turn toward us and began to laugh. She repeated it several times before I gave up and finished my penne porcini.

CALIFORNIA

   In March we went to Cali for my Aunt Pat & Uncle Ed’s 50^th Anniversary party. Fifty years, now I’ve joked it seems like I’ve been married for 50 years, but that won’t be true until 2038. Let me simplify this as only I can, THAT’S A FUCKING LONG TIME!!!! Rumor has it that fifty years ago, Ed & Pat were on a date and Ed dropped his keys, as he knelt down to pick them up, Pat said “I DO”. We had a great time with my cousins and brothers. Since it rarely happens that we are all together, these times are very special to me. At the party a photographer came around to take pictures of each couple. The way we were seated, he thought Jeff was with Geo’s girlfriend, Marcy. At first we were going to move but decided to just go with it. That left Georgie with Chrissy and Jen with me. When she realized this she said “Wait, I get Gregg?!!!” with joking disgust in her voice. This started an argument among the girls about which Ott boy was the worst. Each defended (that may be too strong a word for what actually happened) her man somewhat and gave reasons why the others were the worst. Chrissy & Marcy thought Jeff was the most annoying, which stunned Jen and me. I thought Chrissy would have voted Georgie most annoying. Then all three girls agreed that my mom married the worst Ott boy. We were supposed to go to Mexico with the Delgado’s, but that got canceled at the last minute. Now Chrissy had to decide…spend 10 straight days with my parents or go somewhere…anywhere…she decided Death Valley was a better option. We had a great time there; we hiked through several canyons, across the salt fields and up the mountains for 3 days. Death Valley is an amazing place to visit. We decided to drive to Joshua Tree National Park afterwards. As we drove across the Mojave Desert, our cell phone got a signal again…we had 3 messages. The first was my mom checking in with us. How’s Death Valley? Call me. The next was mom again a little worried. Your hotel said you never checked in. Where are you? Call me! Guess who left the third message? Gregg, call me back right away. Your father says he isn’t driving out to the god damn desert to find your fucking ass. Where are you?!!! Chrissy was laughing her ass off as she listened to the messages. She wanted to let my mom worry about us. I said we’d better call before some park ranger or state trooper finds us and says to call your mom because she is driving them crazy. I don’t want to pile on an old lady nearing her dotage but, whenever Chrissy & I visit her, she writes HI GREGG & CHRISTY on a little message board on the kitchen counter…when Jeff & Jen were coming out, she took the day off of work, hung a WELCOME JEFF & JEN banner across the garage and was so excited at the airport that she ran up to some guy she thought was Jeff and was hugging the poor bastard who had no idea what was happening. She didn’t let go of him until I pointed to her actual son walking toward her through the crowd. Chrissy had to pick me up off the floor I was laughing so hard.

NEW YORK CITY

   We met my mom in NYC in June. We all stayed at my Aunt Maryann & Uncle Freddie’s. One day we took a trip to the Brooklyn neighborhood where they grew up. We stopped at Our Lady of Lourdes School, Marion Street (where the Otts & Valentinos lived), Bushwick Ave & Chauncey St. (where my mom lived). On Chauncey St., I took pictures of my mom on her old stoop. You could smell marijuana coming from an apartment in the building. Then some guy in a window across the street yelled “are you buying that building”? My mom said “no, I used to live here”. To which he replied shockingly “you used to live here”? Let’s just say white folks haven’t been seen around there since the 1960’s. We took my mom on a Circle Tour around Manhattan. While on line she bought a Styrofoam Statue of Liberty crown, which she insisted on wearing. Tourist!!! While waiting on the boat at the docks, another boat was loading for what appeared to be a private Father’s Day party. We watched several hundred African-Americans dressed to impress board the boat. It’s not that the outfits were ghetto, let’s just say white people couldn’t or wouldn’t wear most of the outfits we saw. They all brought food & bottles of booze with them. When the DJ kicked in with the old school R&B mixed with sweet soul music, Chrissy & I wanted to switch boats, but no way would they allow us on that boat with my mom wearing that goofy spiked crown. Years ago, Chrissy gave my mom a cloth doll dressed as a nurse. It’s a frumpy little doll that makes you laugh whenever you look at it. She is called Nurse Doll. Clever. My mom kept her at work on her desk. Over the years, her co-workers posed Nurse Doll for all kinds of compromising pictures. Nurse Doll made the trip to NYC. We took nurse doll everywhere, Museum of Natural History, Central Park, Coney Island, Lower East Side, Times Square & the Circle Line cruise. Lots of people laughed at Nurse Doll or maybe at us as we posed her all around the city. I made a music video of Nurse Doll’s trip. You can see the video at www.georgeott.com.

   American Idol. Admit it, you have watched it. Anyway, early in the show, Taylor Hicks became a fan favorite. He looked 45 years old but was actually 28. My friends, Jim & Chrissy, were the first to say I looked like Taylor. Then Chrissy’s friends at work told her that I looked like him. I didn’t think so. Well this dopey looking white guy with no soul and no dance moves (does kind of sound like me) ends up winning. Great! Now I hear I look like him more often; while shopping for a suit, djing at weddings, etc. I still don’t see it. While in NYC, I was paying at the window of a parking garage in Long Island City. The attendant, a young black man from some Caribbean island, just stares at me. I thought he couldn’t speak English. Then he comes out of the booth and stammers, “you, you’re from American Idol”. Chrissy is laughing so hard she probably wet herself, my mom & Aunt are laughing harder & harder because the guy won’t believe me when I tell him I’m not Taylor Fucking Hicks. He kept getting so excited that he met Taylor Hicks, I just signed an autograph for the poor bastard. Is this why people come to America? To meet losers from American Idol!

CANADA

   In late September, we drove through Canada to Nova Scotia, then back through New England. Highlights of the trip…the Old City areas in Montreal & Quebec City…whale watching in New Brunswick…the amazing tides at the Bay of Fundy…the Acadian churches on Prince Edward Island…seeing whales and moose on the same hike in the Cape Breton Highlands in Nova Scotia…hiking & biking in Acadia National Park in Maine…seeing the fall colors in Vermont & New Hampshire. We stayed at B&B’s most nights on the trip; it really gives you a chance to meet the locals and learn of cool places to visit in the area. Almost every Canadian asked us about George Bush. After I gave my opinion, I had to answer the following questions…how did he get re-elected? Americans are stupid. Is he retarded? No, please don’t embarrass the mentally handicapped. Does America still support the war? No, don’t confuse supporting the troops with supporting Bush & his lying henchmen. Who still believes Bush’s bullshit? Only people stupid enough to believe Rush Limbaugh’s drug addiction is different than Kurt Cobain’s. While in Quebec City, Chrissy arranged to see Tiguak at the Aquarium. For those that don’t remember, Tiguak is the polar bear cub Chrissy hand raised at Brookfield Zoo. It has been 5 years since Chrissy saw Tiguak. When we arrived, Tiguak was pacing in her exhibit. As soon as Chrissy yelled down to her, Tiguak ran to her, stood on her hind legs and began chuffing & moaning (a polar bearing greeting). It was amazing to me, she clearly remembered Chrissy. She led Chris around to the viewing window and got face to face with her. The keepers at the aquarium were also amazed. Tiguak never acted like this. They let Chrissy feed Tiguak in the back. There was no doubt among those present that Tiguak remembered Chrissy. I had tears in my eyes, but Chrissy never did. She was just excited to see her baby. Weeks later, while giving a group of teachers a tour at Brookfield Zoo, she was telling the story of her visit to see Tiguak and broke down. She apologized to the group, who told her to stop apologizing because they were also crying.

   A few other tidbits…while in Canada we never saw any geese…probably because they are all in the United States shitting in our parks…I only saw three concerts this year, Marah & Flogging Molly twice, while in Canada we stopped to see some music. The bar was so empty, the singer, Steven Bowers, decides to sit at a table and play for the 8 of us. This guy is a fantastic songwriter and performer. We listened and talked music with him all night long…my hockey team won the winter league championship…our oldest cat, Ammie died this year. She was actually named Amaretto, but known as the Dago kitty for her love of pasta…so we marked her grave with a Virgin Mary statue holding a bottle of Amaretto. Let’s continue on a religious theme, I’m not overly religious. I know you’re shocked by that comment. Anyway, I believe religions cause more problems than they solve. Sometimes it’s hard to believe God really exists, and then something happens to make you believe. During 18 nights in Canada, our only B&B problem occurred on Prince Edward Island. The owner of the Trailside Inn didn’t have a room for us. He did get us a room down the street. He took us to a house owned by this eccentric artist named Mary. She is packing up to move to Toronto for the winter. The house has that musty, strange old lady that lives by herself smell. We decide to stay anyway. We talked with Mary about her artwork and family history in Maritime Canada until late in the night. The next morning she was still sleeping, we left $60, a thank you note and fresh fruit (we had bought at a farmers market in Montreal) on the kitchen table. Later that day, while on the ferry from PEI to Nova Scotia, I spent most of the trip talking to this huge burly Irishman with wild red hair. We talked about living in Nova Scotia, fishing for a living, whales and the Tiguak story. He was taking a job at a mine where the owner needed him to catch a thief. If he handed the thief to the owner he would be paid $5000. Chrissy asked me who I was talking to out on the deck; as usual I never caught his name. As we drove our car from the docks, I saw the Irishman hitching a ride. We picked him up and he laughed when he saw it was me. He introduced himself as Joseph. As we drove, it was obvious he hadn’t bathed in awhile, but we enjoyed his company. After we dropped him off, I told Chrissy that the past 24 hours were our “World’s Fastest Indian” day. It’s a great movie about a easy going New Zealander (Anthony Hopkins) who travels to America to race his motorbike at the Utah Salt Flats. It chronicles all the strange, off the wall people he meets along the way. Then I realized that maybe it was more than a coincidence that we had met Mary & Joseph. Maybe it was a message that someone was looking after me, that whenever you begin to doubt, a little assurance is sent your way and it’s up to you to figure it out. Hey, it was just a thought at first, but over time I really began to believe it was something ordained. So, in the spirit of Christmas, the next time a stranger or someone different than you comes into your life, don’t just cast them aside. Maybe they were sent to you for a reason, maybe they could brighten your day or enrich your life or maybe just maybe they are just some pain in the ass. I guess that’s for you to decide.

Peace & Love, Gregg & Christy

December 22, 2011 The 2005 Christmas Letter

Alright, I know this is late this year. I actually started this over a month ago, but since I’ve become a bitter old man the first draft was just me ranting and raving about the stupidity of American people who still believe our lousy president’s bullshit. So after several rewrites and still sounding like a bitter old man, I scrapped the whole thing and am now rushing through this version of the Christmas letter. My anger over the incompetent group of criminals running the country has not subsided, but I did realize that the Christmas letter is suppose to be a humorous look at the absurd way Chrissy & I decide to spend our year. So better late than never…maybe not…here’s a recap of 2005. THE WHITE SOX WON THE WORLD SERIES!!!! I repeat THE WHITE SOX WON THE FUCKING WORLD SERIES!!!! The rest is just inconsequential details.

In February we went to Rome for a week. We took a guided tour the first day there. As we sat on the bus one of the guides came down the aisle saying “Good Morning” to everyone in the language she thought you spoke. She was correct on everyone until she got to us; she looked at us and hesitated then said “Buongiorno”. I guess between my nose and Chrissy’s mustache we looked like Italians. We spent the rest of the week just walking around Rome. It is an amazing city completely ruled by the Catholic Church. In one week we visited more churches than the previous 40 years of our lives. It is hard to describe the beauty and differences of each church. The artwork, the statues and the artifacts in every one of the Roman Catholic churches is mind boggling. We searched out the Santa Scala, which are reported to be the steps Jesus walked up at Pontius Pilate’s house. Now think about that for a moment, you can walk on the same steps as Jesus…count me in. Well it turns out you must crawl up the steps on your knees while praying…OK I can show some respect, this is still very cool to me. Apparently some people take this more seriously than me, the stairs are packed and it takes several hours to crawl & pray your way to the top. I left asking couldn’t there be an express lane…maybe just the left half of the staircase for people with a little less time and devotion. The nuns bounced me out of the church while saying Hail Marys & Heavenly Fathers and making the sign of the cross. As soon as we left the church…I swear I’m not making this up…a hail storm began while we waited for the bus. When it finally arrived I jumped on through the back door but Chrissy only got an arm in when the driver shut the door and took off. I’m yelling STOP!!!, which everyone but me realized was useless, as Chrissy is running along side the bus, a local finally yelled FERMI! Then he continued to yell at the driver to open the door. Chrissy kept yelling you fucking asshole at the driver…thank God he didn’t speak English. While visiting the sites around Rome, I took a lot of pictures. I try to be polite and consider everyone around me. The Japanese tourists also like to take pictures and have no manners whatsoever, which is strange for a group of people that rarely grow over 5’5” and 140 pounds. Chrissy was so pissed at them that she purposely walked into their pictures. She is now famous throughout Japan as that Round Eye Bitch that ruined my photographs.

Over the past year, we have visited NYC five times, which means Chrissy & I have visited my Aunt Maryann’s house more often than both of our parents’ homes. I guess this says something about who treats us better. I know most of you think I go just to eat Maryann’s cooking, but she didn’t cook Italian food until our last trip in December…and thank God she did or this little story would have ended with me crying about not having an Italian  meal there all year. In April we took our fourteen year old nephew, Kyle to NYC. He said he wanted to go with us.  We took him all over the city and all he did was play with his fucking Gameboy. I thought he was bored hanging out with us, so one day I asked him what would you like to see… “the Empire State Building”…OK…we wait on line for 2 hours to get to the outdoor observation deck…after 5 minutes on the deck that son of a bitch is sitting inside playing his Gameboy. I was going to throw it off the building but realized it wasn’t the Gameboys fault…so I threw the kid off the building…how do people put up with children seven days a week? Every trip to NYC brings us to new places…this summer we had dinner with Freddie & Maryann on City Island in the Bronx at a place called Sammy’s…Maryann had a plate of crab legs stacked so high we couldn’t see her until she ate half her dinner. It was a beautiful summer night so we visited a little state park on the East River in Long Island City that had an amazing view of Manhattan. In October we took my friends Ralph & Machelle to NYC. This trip was just to eat Corato’s pizza. I have said many times while eating shitty Chicago pizza that I’d fly to NYC just for some good pizza and it finally happened. While eating at Coratos, which Ralph & Machelle loved, I told them the stories of how I have eaten there for almost 30 years…eating there with my grandparents on every trip to NYC, how my father sent me at age twelve to Corato’s after midnight with a fifty dollar bill to get us a pie. After listening to my stories the guy at the table behind us told me he moved away in 1979 and still visits the neighborhood once a year just for a slice of Corato’s pizza…I completely understood.

For those that do not know, Chrissy’s sister lives next door to us. She has 2 boys and a girl. As I’ve stated before I hate all kids, but as they get older I can put up with them more. It is fun to be the cool uncle. I take them fun places, do fun things, then send them home to their parents who yell at them about stupid shit and the kids yell back cool things like “ I hate you, I wish Uncle Gregg was my dad. He is so cool.” Of course the little fuckers don’t realize what a prick I’d be if I was their father, so for the next few years at least, I can be cool Uncle Gregg. This brings me to a couple of stories involving my niece Kristian. One night after a trip to the beach with the dogs, we stopped at Schoops for hamburgers with Kristian. She was talking about cartoons and mentioned Wonderdog, unbeknownst to me this is a new cartoon, so I say don’t you mean Underdog, she says no Wonderdog, I say Underdog like underwear, to which she replies very loudly “Uncle Gregg, do you wear Aunt Chrissy’s underwear?” Well Chrissy spits her hamburger half way across the room. Everyone within earshot looks at my four year old niece and I say “God damn it, I gotta start shutting the blinds tighter!” One Sunday we took Kennedy & Kristian to Lincoln Park Zoo, then to dinner in Little Italy and finally back home. While driving down the Dan Ryan Expressway, Kristian starts singing “Lions & Tigers & Bears, Oh my!” So after a long day with these kids, hearing her sing this a couple of hundred times, I’m desperately trying to change the subject. So as we passed the garbage dump at 130^th St. the smell enters the car and I say “Aunt Chrissy farted”. Without missing a beat the kid starts singing “Lions & Tigers & Bears & Farts Oh my” repeatedly. Chrissy starts laughing uncontrollably…she can’t stop and has tears running down her face, I start laughing mostly at Chrissy, meanwhile “Lions & Tigers & Bears & Farts” is continuing nonstop from the back seat. I finally had to pull over at 159^th St and toss the kid out of the car.

In August I quit my job. I needed a break after working nonstop for the past 25 years. I thought I’d spend my days riding my bike on the dirt trails in the area, working out to get into shape, taking day trips to shoot photographs and surfing the internet for porn. Chrissy had other ideas like buying a new car, remodeling the living room, buying new furniture for the newly remodeled living room. So after spending a month tearing out the carpet, tearing off old paneling, repairing plaster walls, painting the room, stripping the wood floors, staining the floors, replacing the trim and adding crown molding and spending over $35K while I’m out of work. I had to relax for a few days so I left to visit my mom in SoCal without telling Chrissy. AAAHHHH…fantasy…seven days at the beach just me, the waves and the hotties…reality…like Meatloaf once sang 2 out of 3 ain’t bad. By the time Chrissy found me, she had spent another 5 grand. So I came back and got a job. It was easier on me than being out of work. While in Cali, I helped my brother George move some furniture then we went to Best Buy to pick up a wine refrigerator he had ordered. Shockingly, the moron at Best Buy couldn’t find the refrigerator even though he had called Geo to let him know it had arrived. After several phone calls and even more blank looks from the store’s brain dead employees, we were told it wasn’t in yet. So as we’re heading out, here comes a lady with Geo’s refrigerator on a dolly. She apologizes about the mix-up then says “I’M SURE YOU TWO WILL REALLY ENJOY THIS”. Now I’m sure lots of gay men shop for wine refrigerators, but I set her straight anyway by saying, “Hey lady, I’m not gay, but we still aren’t sure about my brother here.” She gave me that ‘OF COURSE YOU’RE NOT GAY LOOK’ and walked away.

I know everyone thinks their life sucks every now and then. And now I feel like Norm from Cheers when he said “It’s a dog eat dog world and I’m wearing Milkbone underwear.” Our male dog Glacier is about 10 years old. He has bad hips, which prevents him from squatting properly. This is a very important position for a dog in order to take a shit correctly. So let me cut to the chase, I now have to wipe my dog’s ass every time he shits in the yard…so whenever you think you have it bad…think of me on all fours lifting his tail and wiping his ass. Chrissy usually grooms the dogs, but they were a mess so she took them to a kennel for a doggy spa day. Our dogs are big, but definitely not tough. When they got home that night they looked & smelled great and were on their best behavior… I think it was like “Scared Straight”, the program where delinquents spend a day in prison to get a taste of life there and the inmates try to scare them out of a life of crime. I pictured my two dogs being terrorized by a Rottwieler & a German Shepard in the kennel…“Hey Glacier, you think you’re tough, you’re a pussy, I’m gonna make you my bitch” and “you sure got a pretty mouth Fluffy”…since the two of them were on such good behavior after a being traumatized at the kennel, we plan on sending them again next month.

I’m not sure why, but every year I list the shows we saw. Here’s this year’s list… Spamalot, Wicked, The Thing About Men and Dirty Rotten Scoundrels. Concerts…Paul Westerberg, Ben Folds, Marah (twice), Floggy Molly (twice), Bruce Springsteen and the DropKick Murphys (it was Kyle’s first concert; I had him in the mosh pit). The best concert was Lyle Lovett, John Hiatt, Joe Ely and Guy Clark on the Songwriters Tour, the four of them sitting on stools playing songs, respectfully goofing on each other and telling stories. We highly recommend seeing Lyle Lovett or John Hiatt in concert.

Over the years, lots of people have written or said nice things about this stupid newsletter and some have said not so nice things. That’s fine, I understand. But my friend Rich Twardy would actually critique it for me. My favorite was the year he simply said “not as funny as last years”. He was right. When Chrissy & I got married, we didn’t want a limo, so I asked Rich if we could borrow his 1957 Chevy. He not only agreed, he offered to be our chauffeur. After the church ceremony, he held the door as we jumped into the back seat. On the seat was an ice bucket with champagne and two glasses. That’s Rich; ask for something and he does that little extra for you…every time. Rich died last year, suddenly, right before Christmas. I can’t think of a more devastating time of year for a family to go through such a thing. But I don’t mention this to bring anyone down, just to use Rich as a lesson for the season. I have no doubt that everyone at his funeral knew how much they meant to him. Because every time he saw you there was no doubt how happy he was that you spent some time with him. To me, this is an amazing personality trait. So this holiday season and beyond, let those you spend time with know how much you enjoy being with them. Don’t assume they know, make sure they know how much they mean to you. So to everyone that gets this letter, let’s try to spend some time together next year. Chrissy & I are thinking of you and we hope your Christmas was merry and have a Happy New Year. As for you Rich, next time we meet…I’ll bring the champagne.

December 21, 2011 The 2004 Christmas Letter

Dear Santa,

   So maybe you think it’s strange to get a letter from a forty year old fat guy, especially one that isn’t applying for your job. But I live in a country where 51% of the people believe in George Bush. Since they believe in him, I don’t feel foolish believing that some fat old man can grant me a Christmas wish. What? You live with toy making elves…still believe in you… and flying reindeer…nope, I still have more faith in you granting my wish than George W. leading our country to a strong, safe future. Therefore the following is a recap of my year; I hope to convince you that I’ve been nice more often than naughty. Then, you might grant me my wish.

   Last Christmas, you gave Chrissy a couple of sex books (BTW, thanks, nice try, I really appreciated the effort) OF COURSE IT WAS A FAILURE. One night she was actually reading from the book “365 Sex Positions for A Year of Good Sex”. Now here’s another example of her only being able to talk about animals, while reading aloud for me to follow along, she mentioned something about arousing the clitortoise. I said “THE WHAT?” She said “clitortoise” again. I said “maybe it’s a cliturtle!” I laughed so hard there was no chance of sex for months. Let’s just say when my sex book comes out it will be called “Lord Of My Pants” or “Sex – It’s A One Man Job”. OK, maybe this one falls under the naughty column. But could you do a brother a solid and make Christy a little naughtier for next year.

   One of the few things Chrissy & I enjoy together is spending time out in nature. This past January, we went out to Starved Rock State Park to see the bald eagles. The birds usually are across the river on a tree filled island, so I brought a long telephoto lens in an attempt to get some good pictures. But the eagles were still too far away. We decided to hike up onto Starved Rock. While up on the cliff, an eagle flew just a few feet above us, I still couldn’t get a good shot due to the telephoto lens. Now, the eagle was too close. For the first time in my life, I was so close to something beautiful and had something too long in my hands.

   Chrissy went to a Polar Bear conference in San Diego in early February. I went along to visit with my Aunt Pat & Uncle Ed. As a little boy I remember being very afraid of my uncle. He was in the military and always seemed very intimidating. Hell, he has 4 daughters; intimidation was necessary for the teenage boys that came calling. Anyway, we had a really good time with them. It was quite amusing to see him tap dancing around the kitchen to avoid my Aunt Pat finding out what he told us under his breath. When I told my cousins the story, they agreed that while growing up, dad was the good cop to mom’s bad cop. It’s funny how my perceptions have changed with age.

   I still play hockey with my friends in a men’s league. Last winter, Walter & I put together players from our old teams. We had a pretty good season, even made the play-offs. That’s where I caused a major problem. You see, we have a five gallon plastic bucket, officially called the STANLEY BUCKET (after hockey’s trophy, the Stanley Cup). Now each week someone has to bring the bucket full of beer, so we can have a cold one after the game. Sure we used to go to bars, but now we are all too old. Plus we got tired of the nasty looks the young hotties give us when we get caught staring at them with Miller Lite dribbling down our chins. Anyway, back to the story, I forgot the bucket for our play-off game, so on the way to the rink I stopped for some beer and ice but no Stanley Bucket. Some of the guys said this was a bad sign. I ignored them. Then Jim McDonnell, one of our best players breaks his skate during warm ups. I worry. We jump out to a 5-1. We’re fine. Mike Stasiak, our goalie gets hurt, as Keith Shires puts on the goalie equipment, we let up 2 goals. OK, not bad. 5-3. Then Walter gets tossed from the game. Uh-Oh 5-4. They tie the score with less than a minute left and win in overtime. That fucking bucket cost us the game. I know you don’t believe it, but most of us believe we lost because of a plastic bucket curse. I hope it doesn’t last as long as the Boston Red Sox Bambino Curse.

   In April we treated ourselves to dinner at one of Chicago’s upscale eateries, Charlie Trotter’s. My friends Walter, Liz, Debbie & Eric went along. Walter booked the table in the kitchen 6 months in advance. I had to wear a blazer, who owns a fucking blazer? I wore a suit jacket. We had our own Maitre De, she started out with her high brow attitude, but when Eric said that squab was a fancy way of saying pigeon, she lightened up & we had a fun time eating among Chicago’s elite. I believe the bill for 6 people was over $1600. We couldn’t afford to eat out at anything better than White Castle for months.

   Santa, this story should be one for the nice column, it’s supposed to be the thought that counts…RIGHT!! Since we stayed at my Aunt’s while in Cali, my mom only saw us for a few hours at a party thrown by my cousin Mary. Before we left Cali, she called to inform us that they were coming to Chicago for my dad’s 60th birthday in April. I figured a surprise party with all 3 sons would be a good idea. Why Chrissy OK’s these ideas, I’ll never know. Geo & Marcy were in right away, Jeff wasn’t so sure. He finally decided to drive by himself, Jen had to work. (That’s been her story but I think she knew better than to spend a weekend with the whole family.) Long story short, Jeff got lost. He somehow ended up at the Canadian border in upstate NY. The Canadian Mounties were laughing at him when he said he was driving from Boston to Chicago. I couldn’t believe a person that didn’t take the short bus to school could get so lost. Jen could, the poor girl said she has to worry every time he leaves the driveway. Anyway I pulled the surprise off, when my mom saw Jeff, she ran to my dad yelling “GEORRRGE!” When she saw Geo & Marcy, her exact words were “Who’s watching my cats?!!” That’s the kind of love we remember from childhood. The weekend was moving along smoothly. We met a huge group of friends & family for dinner at The Warsaw Inn then continued the party at our house. Unfortunately an Ott family tradition was continued. We began playing a party game where you divide the group in half & take turns singing songs with a word listed on the game card. It always starts out fun, then intense (due to that Ott trait that requires victory), then the explosion. Chrissy started yelling at Georgie, Geo yelled back. Chrissy said “Fuck You!” I didn’t remember seeing those words on a game card. I yelled at Chrissy, someone yelled at Geo, lots of words that definitely weren’t on the game cards were said. AAHHH! Another Ott family get together. I’ll bet the Manson Family get togethers are more peaceful than ours.

   Mrs. Delgado told me that she decided to visit NYC after reading last year’s newsletter. So in June, we headed to NYC and met Mr.& Mrs. D at JFK. After a wonderful dinner at my Aunt Maryann’s, we headed into Manhattan. We did some typical tourist things, Empire State Building, Central Park, Wall Street, Grand Central Station and a fantastic Broadway play, Fiddler On The Roof. We also did some not so typical tourist things, The Mermaid Parade at Coney Island, walking around the West Village in the aftermath of the Gay Pride Parade, Spanish Harlem (for some delicious pizza at Patsy’s), dinner on Mulberry Street in Little Italy at 10:30pm, buying umbrellas on the street and running through the rain in SoHo looking at menus for a good place to eat. Even after we left them to attend to my grandfather’s funeral, they managed to get around the city on their own. Their daughter, Kathy, e-mailed me to verify her parents’ version of the trip. She was surprised by all the things they did in one week. Now Mrs. D knows firsthand why I love NYC so much.

   Santa, I will admit to one regret this year. I wish I would have spoken at my Grandpa’s funeral. I know I would have lost my composure, but I really wanted to say these things…he was reason I was in NYC when he died. It was during all those trips as a child that he taught me to love NYC, the buildings, the subways, the beaches, the baseball teams. I always feel like I’m somewhere special while in NYC. It is because my grandfather passed his love of his city on to me. He may not have been the perfect husband or the perfect father, but he was the perfect grandfather. He always made me feel like he wanted me there with him. Even if he was told by my grandmother to do something with me he didn’t want to, I could never tell. Most of my favorite memories are from visiting my grandparents… Corato’s pizza, riding the front car of the subway with Grandpa explaining how the lights, markers & braking mechanisms work, showing me how to read the subway map, teaching me how to keep score at a ball game, taking me to Shea & Yankee Stadiums, the Empire State Building, the Twin Towers, Battery Park, Central Park, the Staten Island Ferry & Coney Island…for all these memories, I will always be grateful. I love this city and I love him & will miss him…especially when I have a slice at Corato’s without him. I also want to thank my Aunt Maryann for taking such good care of my grandfather; everyone should spend the last years of their life with someone like her.

   I was back in NYC the next month, this time as the chauffeur for my mom, Aunt Pat & Uncle Bob. We were there to attend their cousin Kathleen’s wedding on the Hynes side. I got to room with my Uncle Bob, who is like my family’s version of James Bond. I was amused listening to Uncle Bob crack wise, then getting chastised by his sisters.(This must be a Hynes trait I inherited, I also get chastised by my sisters) I love these family functions because I get to put faces to the family tree I’ve worked on for 10 years. For the second year in a row, I met family members for the first time and felt like we all belonged together. The food at this wedding was amazing and endless. We ate for over 6 hours and it was served so perfectly that the main course at 10pm went down as smooth as the cigars & after dinner cordials that followed the dessert trays. The highlight was spending time with my Grandpa Hynes’ brother Norbert. He had this classic New York Irish way about him, he told me stories about himself & the Hynes family. The night ended with me watching my mom dance with her Uncle Norbert. It was like seeing her dance with her father again, at least as close as she could get to him. Maybe she was thinking the same thing. Damn, here comes that composure problem. (Like my mom always says “You’re a fucking pisseye”)

   Well Santa, in August we made it up to your part of the world. Chrissy volunteered to work on a brown bear research project in Alaska, so I tagged along for an Alaska adventure. Georgie even came up for part of the trip. (This caused my mom to warn me that I was responsible for her baby in Alaska. Apparently it was ok if I died as long as Georgie made it home safely.) We kayaked in Katchemak Bay, hiked to several glaciers, even climbed on the Matanuska Glacier, visited Kenia Fjords, Wrangell St. Elias & Denali National Parks, had to stop the car for moose in the road, had a bear follow us while hiking to an abandoned copper mine, hiked through the snow in Denali, saw bears, eagles, moose, caribou, red fox, ptarmigans, dall sheep, otters, puffins and more impressively spent 17 days together without any major flare-ups between us. Now that should impress you more that anything else. Well, there was the day Geo & I hiked on the Matanuska Glacier. We had to hike over glacial silt to get on the glacier, then a rare Alaska thunderstorm swept over the mountains. We were about a half mile from the car. While running along the marked trail Geo points and says there’s a shortcut, so I going running in that direction. I promptly sank to my thighs in the silt with Geo laughing at me from the trail. I would have kicked his ass when I caught up to him except I was soaking wet & had 40 pounds of silt covering both legs. Then I decided to kick his ass anyway…then a little mom angel appeared on my left shoulder…”don’t let anything happen to my baby”…then a little red devil appeared on my right shoulder…”kick his fucking ass”…I looked left then right…the devil said “what are you more afraid of, eternity in Hell or your mom?”…I decided not to kick Georgie’s ass.

   Every December as I try to muster up some Christmas spirit and the desire to write another Christmas letter, I get the spirit of Christmas from an unexpected place. This year it was at Gayety’s Chocolates. (A 3^rd generation family business in our local downtown area) While in line to place my order for Christmas gifts, I listened to two old ladies just making friendly conversation. One told the other she went to Gayety’s as a child living on Chicago’s South Side. They began most sentences with “back in those days”. They came to realize that they grew up around the corner from each and had never met until that day. The old neighborhood butcher, the pharmacist who would always say, “Take this straight home to your mother” and of course, stopping for candy at Gayety’s on the way to the movie theater next door. I just loved listening to their stories. These kinds of moments always lighten up my cynical heart, because I realize these neighborhood stories are fading into the forgotten past. Santa, this brings me to my Christmas wish. It is simple and will be derided as idealist, so be it. It is my Christmas wish that people will always have fond memories like the one detailed above. It can happen if we spend more time supporting businesses where the owners greet you personally and appreciate your business. Do you really think people will reminisce so fondly of their neighborhood WalMart and how they saved a dollar on some useless piece of shit? Every neighborhood has small family run businesses, find ones that offer something unique and support them. You might even begin a lasting friendship. Here’s a list of my friends that offer something unique …Walter at Northstar Custom Cabinetry, Eric at James Dunlop Builders, Donald at Bates & Co. CPA, Jim & Lee at www.gayetys.com, Mike & Karen at www.cafeborgia.com, Dave Stutler Upholstery, Rich at Twardy’s Radiator Shop, Nick at 21^st Century Contractors, Woody at Woody’s Garage, Ralph at Diamond Dry Cleaners, Nick at Joltin Joes and Kathy at www.vintageweave.com.

   Santa, I’ll get off my soapbox now…it just takes longer since I turned 40 this year. I really try hard not to be a bitter old man who complains all the time but I seem to be losing the battle. We still get out of the house occasionally we saw the following plays…Hairspray, Oliver, Thoroughly Modern Millie, The Graduate, Phantom of the Opera, Scrooge, Evita, On The Record, Rent, The King & I and Fiddler On The Roof. We even made it to a few concerts, Prince, Floggy Molly, Bodeans, John Mellencamp and Steve Earle. It’s time to end this letter. So Merry Christmas to everyone and…my niece Kristian just handed me a Christmas cookie she made with her Aunt Christy…now that’s a Christmas tradition she might look back on and remember fondly…especially when she takes her children to visit their great Aunt Christy in the nursing home and Chrissy is drooling all over herself and needs her diaper changed in the worst way. Of course I had to act excited about the cookie…then give it to my dog, Fluffy…God only knows how many disgusting things are on that kid’s hand …no way I’m eating a cookie that she touched…there’s the bitter old man…I’m expecting three ghosts tonight…gotta go…Merry Christmas, hope everyone has a Happy New Year.

December 20, 2011 The 2003 Christmas Letter

Unbelievable, this is the 10^th version of this stupid newsletter. These letters would have stopped years ago, but some people’s lives are so pathetic that they look forward to a written version of the reality show “A Year in the Life of Gregg & Christy”. Some really twisted folks actually hope to get mentioned. This group doesn’t include my parents, who hope to not get mentioned each year, but somehow always do. At least it only comes once a year, kind of like Santa Claus & sex with a partner in this house. I guess this is a milestone, so WELCOME TO THE 10^th ANNUAL RECAP OF A YEAR IN THE LIFE OF TWO LOST SOULS SEARCHING FOR THAT RIGHTEOUS PATH!!!

   Our year started off with a wild New Year’s Eve party…at home…just the two of us, I had two beers, put on my Depends, and fell asleep before midnight. My quality of life went downhill this year after that wonderful start. Even as I grow fatter and older and fatter, I did learn a few interesting things this year…Such as…. Debbie Drescher has nice boobs (this I was pretty sure of but had it confirmed this year)…I’m American… Americans in general are fat…genetics are an amazing thing (this can work for you and against you)…and finally…that family is the most important thing in my and in your life. If you want the details to these life changing revelations please read on…if not, Merry Christmas to you…hope you enjoyed the short version.

JANUARY: Chris & I took a day trip to Starved Rock State Park and we were treated to a beautiful winter day with freshly fallen snow. We went to see the Bald Eagles. There were a couple dozen eagles perched along the river. While hiking through the park we saw a fox and some friendly deer that did not seem to mind us at all. We even saw a buffalo at Buffalo State Park…strangely enough. Days like this make the winter bearable. Unfortunately, the other 89 days of winter were not like this one.

FEBRUARY: My mom decided to visit us. Since she loves going to the Polish smorgasbord at the Warsaw Inn, so we invited a bunch of people, including Jim & Deb Drescher with their boys. We had to sit at two separate tables due to our group size. At some point during dinner Chrissy is laughing uncontrollably, this usually means my good friend Jimmy has ridiculed me. But not this time, it turns out that Jimmy’s son Stevie, decided to grab a handful of his mother’s chest and say “Ma, you have nice boobs!” When I heard that I passed a whole potato pierogie through my nose. It’s true, kids are so damn cute & say the darndest things.

MARCH: Our dog Glacier appeared to be dying. He was lethargic and wouldn’t eat. It turns out he has Addison’s Disease, which can be controlled by pills that cost about $75 a month. Chris insisted on putting him down. She said it was much cheaper than the pills. But I couldn’t bring myself to do it, so I persuaded Chrissy to let me keep him by crying all day & night until she finally gave in. I had to agree to work even more hours to pay for the pills because she refused to do anything special for the dog.

APRIL: If something happened this month…we can’t fucking remember it.

MAY: The Delgados were back in town so off we went to eat & drink at Café Borgia. I interrupt this story with a quick side note to set it up. I’ll admit to being lucky about one thing in life, my moms.(this isn’t a hip hop reference to the lady who gave birth to me) Besides my real mother, I consider several other women my mom because they treat me like I’m their son. They are my Aunt MaryAnn, Mrs. Drescher and Mrs. Delgado. Back to Café Borgia, Mrs. Drescher and Cindy, our little flower girl now old enough to drink wine, are sitting at the table next to us. Mrs. Drescher went on & on about what a great kid I am, Mrs. Delgado did the same. After 10 minutes of this, I’m blushing telling them to stop, but obviously loving it and Chrissy has had enough. She projectile vomited her penne porcini across the restaurant and asked the waiter for another bottle of wine.

JUNE: Chrissy works with mostly women at the zoo. I nicknamed her group of friends the Pink Army. She now refers to them as the Pink Army, but only when she talks to me. Anyway, the Pink Army went horseback riding together. Chrissy was the only first timer and when I asked her how it went…she replied, “my butt is sore”. A week later all she said was “my butt is sore”. Months later, all she remembers is “my butt was sore”.

JULY: We went to London, then Oslo, then a cruise in the Arctic Circle. Simply put, the trip was amazing. We loved London…a lot like NYC except the cabbies spoke English…but we couldn’t understand them either…had fish & chips with a pint in a Notting Hill pub…Oslo was beautiful…21 hours of daylight…the subway works on the honor system, I think we were the only schmucks to pay for it…took the subway to the mountains then hiked back into the city…the cruise around Spitsbergen in the Arctic Circle was life altering…we saw polar bears, walrus, seals, glaciers and millions of birds…went hiking on remote islands, took zodiac boats right up to the glaciers……we stood a mere 15’ from a group of walruses…twice…24 hours of daylight… we drank until middle of night in ship’s bar talking with people from all over the world…learned everyone hates the French…had a BBQ & party on deck with the Russian crew…for my surreal moment of the year I danced (like nobody was watching) with Lorraine, an Australian woman currently living in Dubai, on the deck of a ship surrounded by pack ice and a glacier that was over 100 miles long while a Russian DJ played a euro dance version of the Beatles “I Want To Hold Your Hand” …we went as part of the Sierra Club and Carolyn, the trip leader, asked Chrissy to give a speech on polar bears since she hand raised one at the zoo…she did a great job and was complimented by everyone especially Inge, from Holland of course, who said to Chrissy “I could tell by looking into your eyes that you love what you do”… Chrissy & I were definitely the poorest and least traveled on this ship, one night at dinner, Olle, our Swedish guide, agreed with us but added “you probably appreciate this trip more than the others”. We definitely loved every minute of it. I discovered many things about America by leaving it. The most obvious was AMERICANS ARE FUCKING FAT! I was the fattest person in Oslo until a cruise ship docked & more Americans got off. Every fat person we saw was American. This means that Norway is full of skinny blonde women…which is why there are no Norwegian neighborhoods in American cities, why leave Norway!!! Before landing in London, we had to fill out a landing card which asked for my nationality, I’ve always answered this by saying Italian, Irish & German. WRONG!!! I’M AMERICAN…this just struck me as so amazing that I have never answered that question that way in my life…I felt like a proud immigrant saying it for the first time…I’M AMERICAN!!!

AUGUST: Georgie and Marcy came to Chicago…I took them around town…we were just walking around Chicago when we came to a huge street festival on North Halsted…we quickly realized it was a Gay Pride Festival…the giant rainbow flag should have been a clue…of course we went right in…Georgie claimed his ass was grabbed several times, apparently he was tripping the gay-dar of the locals who must have thought I was with Marcy since no one grabbed my ass. George you are over thirty, skinny, compulsive & not married, it’s time to have that talk with mom & dad.

SEPTEMBER: We took a very last minute trip to SoCal for Labor Day Weekend. The sole purpose of the trip was for me to ride waves at Huntington Beach…mission accomplished… when Chrissy called my mom to say we’d be in later that night, she advised my mom of the reason we were coming, my mom said “I already knew that”. “No really Ma, I came just to see you! Now, can we have the car to drive to the beach?” We threw a family party for Chrissy’s Aunt Marilyn. She was back home for her 40th Class Reunion. The genesis of the party started at a funeral. The families only get together at funerals…so sorrow & grief gives way to funny stories about family…which leads to loud laughter…which annoys people in the other rooms trying to grieve…so Chrissy had a Non Funeral Family Get Together…luckily no one died in the month between sending the invites and the party.

 OCTOBER: Like most couples, we argue over money. I make a lot, she doesn’t. So we decided to take trips according to our salary…my trip was to Norway…Chrissy’s trip was to Grand Rapids, Michigan…we hiked at several state parks and went to a hockey game & zoo in Grand Rapids. One night my 2 year old niece Kristian, was left with me for some reason and Chrissy was sleeping because she was working midnights…Kristian wanted to see her Aunt, so I took her upstairs quietly. Chrissy was sleeping on her stomach with her butt in the air…too bad I had the kid with me…I said “doesn’t Aunt Chrissy have a big bubble butt”. “yes”…Kristian then went home and yelled to her brothers “BOYS, BOYS, AUNTIE CHRISSY HAS A BIG BUBBLE BUTT”!!!!

NOVEMBER: I’m a Godfather. Sometimes being a Godfather means you have to do really awful things…like going to Chuck E. Cheese Pizza for your godson Stevie’s birthday. “I’ll do you this favor, but someday, and that day may never come, I might ask you to do a favor for me”. “Yes, Godfather.”

DECEMBER: My whole family went to NYC for my cousin Terri’s wedding. The wedding reception was easily the best day of my year. Being with family (I’m being sincere on this one) and being treated like royalty by the chefs and staff at Russo’s on the Bay. The food was unbelievable in quantity & quality. The after party with the McElleneys introduced us to more family members. The next day, all the Ott’s were at MaryAnn’s having cordials & desserts & more cordials. Grandpa was sitting with several of his grandchildren when he fired off the best one liner of the night. We were teasing him about being responsible for this whole screwy family and he says “I probably should have just gone to sleep those nights!” This family would make a great genetics research project…while standing at the bar I looked back at our table and saw my Italian mother & Georgie, the least Italian looking son, talking wildly with their hands…my cousin Karen, who should be nothing at all like an Ott, she was a little kid when her parents divorced, she grew up in Puerto Rico, far from the Ott side, she’s only been exposed to us 3 times in the past 25 years, she should be normal…yet there was no doubt she was an Ott…from her smart-ass comments, the joking around with everyone, watching her with Georgie, they looked & acted like brother and sister, it was like we all grew up together…which is exactly how family should be…the phrases “you are family” and “we’re family” were said a lot and it was damn good to hear.

   Well, that’s our year. We saw several plays, including Jesus Christ Superstar, Exonerated, Lion King & Urinetown, which was just fantastic, a perfect combination of humor & cutting edge social commentary. Also went to see Bruce Springsteen, Lyle Lovett & Chris Rock in concert. And don’t complain about this being longer & longer every year. I could have squeezed this onto 2 pages, but the print would be smaller. So, since Chrissy (who should start receiving AARP mailings soon) has been advised by her eye doctor to use reading glasses, I had to print this bigger. I’ll end this with my most memorable moments of the year (all are from my NYC visit due to old age & alcohol ruining my memory). Seriously though these moments still make me smile…Georgie & me sitting in a NYC diner at 1am shooting the shit over milkshakes & pie…my Uncle Freddie proudly walking his daughter Terri to the altar…after Terri’s wedding, eating my favorite pizza with my family at Corato’s Pizzeria in my Grandma Ott’s old neighborhood…and looking for my cousin Karen in front of a snowy Penn Station on Broadway at 2 in the morning and finally seeing her big smile after ten years and her long day of traveling. This holiday season take the time to remember the moments in life that bring a smile to your face. Merry Christmas to everyone, love G & C

P.S. Some resolutions for your new year…donate time or money to a cause you believe in…vote for a president who will serve his country, not those who enrich him…and for Christ’s sake lose some weight…God! Americans are fat!!!

December 19, 2011 The 2002 Christmas Letter

This getting older & forgetful thing reminds me of the old protest song. Signs, signs, everywhere there are signs…breaking my mind…do this, don’t do that…can’t you see the signs…like completely forgetting a vacation only 2 months after taking it. I have to begin this year’s newsletter with something we did in 2001. In October, we drove around Lake Michigan, up through Wisconsin, across the UP of Michigan, then back down on the Michigan side. It was incredible, the fall colors, the solitude, the scenery. We stood on 300 foot cliffs overlooking Lake Superior; we stayed at old Bed & Breakfast Inns including an operating lighthouse on Lake Superior. We went down into a copper mine, searched logging roads for moose…found none…did see eagles and ships going through the Soo Locks at Sault Saint Marie. We went hiking almost everyday to the most beautifully isolated waterfalls. After 9/11, this trip was a reminder of how perfect the world can be… and now….how imperfect our world actually is on a daily basis.                                                        

   The remodeling of the attic was moving along very slowly, but in February, we could actually use the whirlpool tub …aaahhhh….this was a wise investment…now we need a bigger hot water heater…the expenses never stop…but it is true that sex in a big tub with warm water flowing all around your naked body is great…and there was plenty of it until Chrissy started joining me in the tub.

   Our dogs, Glacier & Fluffy, have been with us long enough to earn nicknames…since Glacier stands like a statue and just stares blankly at me while Fluffy was having problems with her butt which she kept shoving her face into…they earned the names Fuck Face & Ass Face respectively. In February, we were invited to work the Great Pyrenees Rescue booth at the IKC show at McCormick Place. The place is huge & we parked at the Hilton. This is where it gets weird…the Harley Davidson Bike show is also at McCormick…in the elevator are us, two huge dogs and several members of Hell’s Angels (who just loved the dogs). As soon as we started thru the lobby, the concierge & others started heading toward us until they saw the bikers…then they stopped & just smiled. I probably could have let Glacier shit in the lobby & a bellhop would have happily cleaned it up. At the show the dogs had the time of their lives…they loved all the attention…for hours people stopped by just to pet them…they were in doggie heaven…after the show, both were passed out in the back seat five minutes down Lake Shore Drive.

   We still have a dial up service for the internet. One day Chrissy tells me that the e-mail server isn’t working, when she hits send it just stays in the outbox. I tell the server may have been down…problem is this happens several times to her and never to me. So once again I show her what to do, as I’m dialing up our server she starts yelling at me, “you never said I had to get online!” which I politely reply (while falling out of my chair laughing), “How the fuck do you think the e-mail gets from our computer to someone else’s computer?!!” This becomes quite an argument with comments like “you’re an asshole” (Chrissy) and “do you have phone conversations with people by picking up the phone and not dialing?” (Me) and “how did you get a college degree with logic like this?”(again, Me). After it all settles down, we kiss passionately, rip each others clothes off, and have wild sex right on my desk. Now, only half that story is true, you figure it out.

   Part of adopting the dogs, was agreeing to take them to obedience classes. Great. You throw a Frisbee and they give you that ‘get it yourself’ look. Well it turns out that being obedient also includes stay, sit and down…three things a Pyr does without being told. I swear we had to wake Glacier up after extended ‘down’ training. Of course Fluffy would sit forever, but the instructor would shake a box of dog biscuits and say “who wants a treat?”…and Fluff was off and running like Jenna Bush after free drinks. Somehow Fluff finished second and Glacier third in the class.

   Christy went to a bear conference in Tucson this spring. I decided to tag along and check out the desert for the first time in my life. It was a great trip. I went hiking out in the desert, which was very strange, almost like being on another planet. I was spooked by every little movement because everything looks so dead in the desert. The great thing is the lack of humidity. I drank several gallons of various liquids and didn’t pee once in five days. It was amazing. One day I drove 90 miles through an Indian reservation. I’m not lying about this, there were about 100 beer cans and bottles thrown on the side of the road per mile...I saw approximately 10,000 beer cans and not one Indian with a tear in his eye. The Delgado’s met us in Tucson. We went out into the desert, visited old missions, drove up Mount Lemon and partied at the Reid Park Zoo with the conference people. The party was great. There was a Desert DooWop band that was all transplanted New Yorkers and Chicagoans. They were very good, so were the traditional Mexican dancers, mostly little kids. I was up close taking pictures, when a little 5 year old boy lost his sombrero while dancing with a little girl. When I got back to our table Mrs. D was going on & on about the cute little boy with the sombrero, I didn’t have the heart to tell her that he said “Oh Shit” when he lost his hat. Overall the desert was beautiful; I can’t wait to go back.

  About this same time, I agreed to take pictures of Flat Stanley for my Cousin Kathy’s kid. Flat Stanley is a paper cut out of a person…you take him with you and describe the pictures so kids learn about other places…apparently these kids don’t get out much…anyway I agreed to do it. Flat Stanley almost got me killed, laid and arrested. My first day in the desert, I’m placing him at the base of a cactus when some prehistoric looking bug buzzes around me scaring the shit out of me, then I notice a tarantula on the ground. I almost left Stanley behind in my haste to escape. While hiking, I put Stanley in my backpack. The sweat from my water bottle made Stanley a paraplegic. So I took him to the hotel’s front desk and embarrassingly asked the two hotties working the counter for some tape to repair Stanley. They thought he was so cute and I was such a good guy for doing this project that they were all over me, then Chrissy found me in the lobby…damn. Finally, I took Stanley to the Ford Theater to see a play in Chicago. Before the curtain went up, I took his picture in my seat with a Playbill. Next thing I know security is asking me “Who the hell is Flat Stanley?” and “do you know you can be removed for taking pictures?” This is why I don’t have kids…I don’t want to do this shit.

   In May the attic was finally finished. I don’t have time to go into details about the amount of bitching I had to endure about how long it took my friends to complete the job. Once it was finished, Chrissy was so excited about how perfect it looked that we kissed passionately, ripped each others clothes off and had wild sex all over the attic. (You married guys now which part is true!) . The attic now looks like a cabin retreat in the mountains, unless of course, you look out the windows and see suburban Chicago. We need to paint some scenery on those damn windows.

   I stood up in my friend Ralph’s wedding…it was an Italian wedding from the Italian spoken by the bridal party( I was the only Italian half-breed) right down to the huge dessert table after dinner. Before dinner a Sinatra type singer was serenading the bride & groom when the ringer bearer(Ralph’s nephew who looked just like a seven year-old Sinatra) interrupted him to tell everyone a joke…with mic in hand he told the joke about peeing on buttercups when Mother Nature appears & says you can’t have butter for the rest of your life…and the punch line is thank God I wasn’t peeing on a pussywillow…the singer was stunned, the rest of us were laughing hysterically especially when the singer asked “where’d you hear a joke like that” and he replied “from my mother”.

   In an effort to get into shape, we began biking. We make it out occasionally, one Sunday, the skies were threatening, so Chrissy bailed on biking with Mike Crafton & I. We took off hoping for the best. Ten minutes out it starts raining. We decide to push on, by the time we make the forest preserve, it’s pouring and lightning is crashing all around us, we find a dry spot under a tall tree ( I said dry not safe), the lightning let up so we pushed on, by the five mile marker, the wind has increased along with the rain…at the ten mile marker small dogs are swirling in the air around us…we give up and head back…as we walk through the door completely drenched Chrissy says to Glacier “look it’s Dumb & Dumber”!

   My mom always told me a story about her father that amused me. He died when I was 3 so I don’t remember him, but this story always made me think that I had his sense of humor. It seems he would stop by to see my mom, take one look at me and ask “do you still shit in your pants?” My mom would reply “he’s just a baby!”. Anyway this brings us to a hot summer day this past August. After working all day, ingesting my usual 5-6 Pepsi’s and who knows what other combination of junk food, I go to baseball practice, eat some fruit and drink Gatorade on the way there. Practice is uneventful. But on the way home my stomach is churning like a motherfucker, the pain is building and what is this….traffic is at a standstill on the highway and I’m stuck between exits. By now the pain is excruciating, I’m working the gas & brake pedals with my legs crossed (try to do this, it’s damn near impossible) and trying to weave through traffic which is not moving an inch…I swear. I’m battling my lower bowels for like 30 minutes and I’m in unimaginable pain. I’ll spare you the details but Grandpa the answer is “yes”. Just another of the many signs of getting old…fucking incontinence…this one I could do without.

I still pretend to be a hockey player…but this brings lots of signs of getting old. I now chase kids half my age around the ice. I also complain about the late 10:50PM games. I’ve been playing that late for years but now it bothers me…excuse me…I gotta run to the bathroom…damn this getting old sucks. I agree with Denis Leary, you can have my later years…the drooling on yourself, shitting yourself, someone has to wipe your ass years…damn, I’m 2/3rds of the way there. I gotta wonder if Chrissy loves me that much.

   In August we went to NYC to visit family and my parents came too. We stayed a few nights in Manhattan with my parents. This actually was a lot of fun…there were ‘slowly we turned…step by step’ moments but most were avoided by staying calm. We had Mimosa’s at The Tavern On The Green on a picture perfect day, we saw the play Frankie & Johnny and afterwards my mom took pictures of the stars Stanley Tucci and Edie Falco with my cousin Terri. The pictures would have turned out better if there was only film in the camera. She can’t blame this on a ‘senior moment’ (her sister Pat’s phrase) because she’s been doing this for years. The whole Ott family went to an Italian restaurant in my Aunt’s neighborhood for dinner one day. My Aunt warned the portions were very big…so what…we all ate a ton of good food…everyone said they were stuffed…couldn’t eat another bite. My parents and Maryann went out to smoke; Chrissy went to the bathroom downstairs. Terri & I order a dessert platter with fruit, cannolis, sorbeto and more…it was huge. The smokers came in and started in on the dessert…God it was delicious…and those people were devouring it…I was barely able to save a grape and a strawberry for Christy as she made her way back from the bathroom. I plan these trips very carefully, to make the best of our time on vacation…OK I ADMIT TO BEING ANAL…that’s beside the point. We run around the city all day long, my parents are good for a half day. So I decide to start the day by taking the Staten Island Ferry to Staten Island then right back to Manhattan. A nice relaxing boat trip. The Gilligan Island survivors had a better boat trip. Once on Staten Island my dad decides to take charge (OK Gen Custer “what next”) He decides to jump on the Staten Island Railroad (only because it’s free according to Chrissy) and take it to Great Kills to relax on the beach. Now we are not dressed for the beach, nor do we want to go to a beach. Once on the train we learn you have to make bus connections to get to the shore, apparently there is no beach…what is there you ask…a closed garbage dump that was reopened in order to bring the Twin Tower rubble there. This trip was wisely aborted about halfway. That night Chrissy referred to it as the trip to KILL ME! Overall the trip was a great visit with family and Chrissy & I visited all 5 boroughs…( the Bronx Zoo & Coney Island in Brooklyn)… a thorough trip through my favorite city.

   For my birthday this year, we put JD to sleep. This would have been a gift if it was one of the other cats, but JD was the coolest cat I’ve ever had. He was like a dog. He’d come when you called him and would play on the floor with you. While digging his grave in the yard I was complaining about being so old to which Chrissy replied “if you dig the whole big enough, I’ll bury your fat ass too!” I started to dig a grave for two but at my age, I got too tired. Bye JD, we miss you.

   Quick notes from a fast year…Chrissy turned 40…hahaha…I DJ’d my 20 year reunion this summer… Look for Chrissy on the Animal Planet’s “That’s My Baby”, the polar bear episode. It was filmed this summer at the zoo. She wants to know how many of you mom’s with human babies got cable specials about your kids and future episodes of “Scared Straight” will not count…we entertained British soccer players & German exchange students that stayed with Kimmie this summer…this year we saw more plays (Contact, Movin Out, Aida, Copenhagen, Dirty Blonde, Kiss Me Kate, Proof, 42^nd St, Suessical) than concerts (Art Alexakis, Ryan Adams, The Warped Tour, Mighty Mighty Bosstones & Steve Earle) this year…yet another sign of aging too rapidly…while djing at the waterpark this summer, I was asked my age by a cute kid with a puppy love look in her eyes…upon hearing my answer, she replied “aren’t you too old to be a DJ?”...I didn’t see her again the rest of the summer…another sign of getting old…our flower girl turned 21…now she can use her real license…send us your e-mail address to worldman@ix.netcom.com …this could be multimedia next year

   Well, another year has gone by and I know we didn’t get to see most of the people who receive this stupid newsletter. The fact that you get this means we are at least thinking of you. The invitation to visit goes out to everyone, the remodeled attic is open for business…we have a friends & family rate…friends can stay a little cheaper (and longer)…we really do want to wish everyone a Merry Christmas & the Happiest of New Years!!!!...and something we learned from our British friends…CHEERS!

December 18, 2011 Christmas in NYC Part 4

 Our last day in NYC started out with fresh bagels in Brooklyn. Then some shopping at street fairs in Columbus Circle and Grand Central Station. Because they remind me of my childhood, I love these old news stands on the subway platforms. There aren't many left due to technology so I document their existence with this picture.

 Chrissy wanted her picture taken next to this subway ad because she loves to be fluffed & whipped. Actually it's a tribute to our dog Fluffy.

 This subway graffiti made me laugh, then I thought about it. Now it just makes me think. It might be true.

 It's "Positively 4th Street Christy".

"You got a lotta nerve
To say you are my friend
When I was down
You just stood there grinning

You got a lotta nerve
To say you got a helping hand to lend
You just want to be on
The side that’s winning

You say I let you down
You know it’s not like that
If you’re so hurt
Why then don’t you show it

You say you lost your faith
But that’s not where it’s at
You had no faith to lose
And you know it

I know the reason
That you talk behind my back
I used to be among the crowd
You’re in with

Do you take me for such a fool
To think I’d make contact
With the one who tries to hide
What he don’t know to begin with

You see me on the street
You always act surprised
You say, “How are you?” “Good luck”
But you don’t mean it

When you know as well as me
You’d rather see me paralyzed
Why don’t you just come out once
And scream it

No, I do not feel that good
When I see the heartbreaks you embrace
If I was a master thief
Perhaps I’d rob them

And now I know you’re dissatisfied
With your position and your place
Don’t you understand
It’s not my problem

I wish that for just one time
You could stand inside my shoes
And just for that one moment
I could be you

Yes, I wish that for just one time
You could stand inside my shoes
You’d know what a drag it is
To see you" - by Bob Dylan

Here's a Brooklyn wannabe after shopping at four bakeries in 15 minutes on Court Street. First we had a pastry and bought pignolis at Monteleone's. Then we got an old fashion loaf bread at Caputo's Bakery for dinner tonight at my Italian Aunt's house. At the Court Pastry Shop with bought some Italian cookies for the plane ride home. Sweet Melissa's was our last stop for some fancy mini pastries for dessert at my Aunt's. Of all the things we did on this trip, hitting four bakeries with 5 blocks of each other was my favorite thing. It is why I love this city.