Category Archives: Rich Lindbloom

Lindbloom’s View: Sic ‘Em Bicks

putbullattack“Sic em Bicks!”

Ain’t but three things in this life worth a solitary dime, Old dogs, children and watermelon wine.  –  Tom T. Hall

By Rich Lindbloom

Our family has fostered quite a few four legged beasts for South Suburban Humane Society. It’s messy, time consuming and as my daughter would put it, “This house smells like a kennel.” And then she’d pick up one of the critters and talk to it as if the puppy could understand her. “Come here my little Do-Do head or Taco bird, you’re just a little fatso,” and many other endearing terms that emanate somewhere from the soft spots of her heart. I’m fairly certain the puppy has no idea what she’s saying, but the tail wagging like a wind shield wiper in a downpour would seem to indicate the beasts seem to know they’re loved. (Can you imagine a dog without a tail? So much is communicated with so few words.) Read more »

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Lindbloom’s View: Don’t Open Door Number Two

funeralSongs_LonesomeRoadThat Old Lonesome Road

“Suns up, uuh huh, looks okay
The world survives into another day
And I’m wondering where the lions are
Oh I’m wondering where the lions are…” – Bruce Cockburn

By Rich Lindbloom

Wings 2 Hawks 0 – that one really hurt.

An intense feeling of ennui is the only way to describe how I felt at 10pm last night. Close but no cigar – what the little boy shot at – goose egg – Sarah’s barren womb – hopelessness – a loss for words (ha, never!) – finger pointing and the blame game. Indeed, Kate Smith finally appears to be dragging the moon over the mountain. Clearly the fat lady is clearing her vocal cords. Although we may not know where the lions are, the Wings are clearly in the driver’s seat. If I was lying on a shrinks couch and he asked me, “Well, how did Game Four make you feel,” I’m not sure I would have an adequate answer. And then I would chop him to little pieces with a dull axe shouting at him with every blow, “How does that make you feel.” Read more »

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Lindbloom’s View: Trader Joes black bean salsa and bad calls

Ref_wife_screwing

I’m mad…and that’s a fact
I found out…animals don’t help
Animals think…they’re pretty smart
Shit on the ground…see in the dark

They wander around like a crazy dog
Make a mistake in the parking lot
Always bumping into things
Always let you down down down down” – David Byrne

By Rich Lindbloom

First off, I want to unequivocally state that I don’t think Brad Watson makes “mistakes in the parking lot.” (On the ice, of course, is an entirely different matter.) David Byrne of the Talking Head’s wrote a peculiar song called Animals awhile back. Brad Watson’s shady interference call on Andrew Shaw, brought back memories of the song. The lyrics are pretty humorous, and if you’re an animal lover you can relate to a lot of what he points out. Read more »

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Lindbloom’s View: Flowers in the Dirt

image003“Those who plant a garden have faith that God will make it grow”

“In the spring, at the end of the day, you should smell like dirt.” – Margaret Atwood

By Rich Lindbloom

And just like that, it’s over. Blink your eyes, and the moment is gone, sequestered away in a cobweb of tangled neurons. It was subtle, beautiful and irrepressible. There is so much going on in such a short window of time. As Edna St. Vincent Millay noted; “April, comes like an idiot, babbling, and strewing flowers.” Indeed, it’s hard to keep up with it all. Read more »

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Lindbloom’s View: Reflections on Game One and those pesky ‘Jackets

image001(5)Tis Battered Hands That Hoist the Cup

By Rich Lindbloom 

Are you all ready for this?

It’s been quite a while since the Hawks have faced must-win situations. Escaping the regular season relatively unscathed, the Hawks have embarked on a quest for one of sport’s greatest trophies.

The symbolism the Stanley Cup embodies is one of self-sacrifice – leaving it all on the line – there is no other way. It’s victors are toothless warriors, who limp to the finish line. Not exactly Gettysburg, but close. Read more »

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Lindbloom’s View: I’ll Take You There

Lindbloom_2013Apr12_TakeYouThere

“Oh, mmm, I know a place
Ain’t nobody crying, ain’t nobody worried
Ain’t no smiling faces, mmm, no no”  -The Staples Singers

By Rich Lindbloom

Boy, oh boy. It’s been a pretty “Wild” week as far as hockey news go. We’ve discovered chronic fomenter of unrest Steve Ott has a sensitive side, Jean-Sebastien Giguere may be a Jonathan Toews in goalie equipment, and former referee Kelly Fraser finally comes clean about something I’ve long suspected-apparently, he tried to occasionally even things out after he realized he made a bad call. And believe me; I witnessed a few of Fraser’s bad decisions. Read more »

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Lindbloom’s View: Something to Harp About

somethingtoharpaboutSomething to Harp About

By Rich Lindbloom

If nothing else last week, I discovered how deep, vast and wide the State of Texas is. We visited Lake Rayburn in the east, and then the Austin and San Antonio area. Needless to say, finding the Hawks games at local watering holes proved to be a challenge. With the exception of the King’s game, we were forced to follow the action on our cell phones. Obviously, we were less than enthused with the late game meltdowns-twice against the Quackers and once against LA.

After the first loss to Anaheim, a quite distasteful 2-4 ending, I thought of a perfect way to describe the outcome. Read more »

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Lindbloom’s View: How it Hangs on a Piece of Mind

LetsTalkAboutFeelingsIs getting punched in the face by John Scott an alternative?

“He disliked emotion, not because he felt lightly, but because he felt deeply.” – John Buchan

By Rich Lindbloom

To be honest with you, I had forgotten what it felt like after a Hawks loss. I had been perched on Cloud Nine, (clearly a million miles, from reality), for 24 games in a row. There’s such a feeling of “momentary” euphoria when we triumph over the known scoundrels in the NHL. Truly a case of good triumphing over evil – Truth, justice and the Chicago way. When we win, I devour every word of the postgame show as if something meaningful is actually being said. As the song goes, “Oh Lord it’s hard to be humble, when you’re perfect in every way.” While we all knew it couldn’t last, a feeling of invincibility and smugness had settled in during “The Streak.” Read more »

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Lindbloom’s View: Another One Bites the Dust

image001(3)Another one bites the dust

“Are you ready
Are you ready for this
Are you hanging on the edge of your seat
Out of the doorway the bullets rip
To the sound of the beat. “ – John Deacon

By Rich Lindbloom

One of my favorite things in life is when I see musicians that I’m not really familiar with, and they proceed to blow my socks off. The smaller the venue, the better. It can be jazz, blues, rock even a great musical like Wicked. One of the most exquisite shows I ever went to was at the Park West, on a cold December night. I think it was a WXRT show featuring Phillip Aaberg, Liz story and Night Noise. Before that night, I was unfamiliar with all three artists. I remember the Irish guy from Night Noise labeling one of Aaberg’s pieces “The NutRocker.”  All three played individual sets before joining forces in a “grand” finale. What’s that, you never heard of any of them? – That’s what I’m talking about. Read more »

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Lindbloom’s View: The Best of What’s Around

Lindbloom_Img01_2013Mar05I’m a believer 

“In war, you win or lose, live or die – and the difference is just an eyelash.” – Douglas MacArthur

By Rich Lindbloom

No, that is not a picture of Sam Fels’s family room wall. Actually, it’s my daughter Taylor’s bedroom wall– nothing like a little Blackhawk paraphernalia to brighten up a room! I had to laugh one day when Nathalie looked at the wall and asked, “What have you done to her?” The wall of fame contains rally towels, ticket stubs, Jonathan Toews pictures, more Jonathan Toews pictures and an assortment of other Hawk items. These items eventually replaced a huge foldout of Mark Bell, the 8th pick in the 1998 draft. I remember her asking me, as we drove home from the game that they gave the Bell poster away, if he was any good. I told her yes and the next day it was up on the wall in the room. Sigh…I miss my hockey bud. Read more »

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