timforjudge.com Blog

 So, I clicked on my “Site Statistics” link last night to see if anybody visited my Web site on the day after the election trouncing I received. And, lo and behold, my site had more visitors yesterday than all but one other day since I put it online in early December!

That’s comical to me. It’s pretty obvious a bunch of people were trolling to see what I had to say about the election. Hello there, Jeff! 

Don’t worry, I WILL have something to say about it all. But you have to give me a couple of days to chill out. I’m trying to get back into the swing of things at work and, also, clean up some of the incredible clutter that piled up in my car and house over the last few weeks preceding the election.

So give me a couple of days. I promise I’ll morph this Web site into something else. I know one thing: now that I’m not a candidate anymore, and considering I finally have a blog up and running after several years of thinking about it, I might be able to provide you with some real fun with regard to local politics. Lord knows, the newspaper is never going to write anything remotely informative or, God forbid, entertaining about any of it. But, heh heh, I am out here with my quill sharpened and unhindered by the concerns of running for office anymore.

Thanks to those of you who were checking in for the last couple of months. I know you’re out there. The site numbers don’t lie. If you’ve been visiting with any regularity, you know my Web site and this blog were unique in local politics. Nobody in politics is genuine. Nobody says what they really think. Nobody gives you the warts-and-all picture. It’s all just dolled up into a pretty package to try to get you to vote for them. I couldn’t do it that way; it’s just not me. So at least I got beat without trying to package myself into something I’m not. I didn’t pander. I was just me. That, I can live with.

Let’s make it Monday. I’ll start writing regularly next Monday, February 11. I’ll try to figure out what this “Timforjudge” site is going to become. See you then!

To contact Tim, write timplacher@yahoo.com

 “Every new sun embraces me, and dries up the yesterdays.”
        I read that line somewhere a little while ago and stored it in my memory bank for today. I was struck by the way it captures the hopefulness each new day brings, despite whatever might have come before.
        Today is one of those “bright line” days in a life. At its end, my life will head in a new direction. I’ll either be a candidate for office in November, or I’ll be planning new ventures as a teacher or as something else.
        I’m proud of myself for having the nerve to stick out my neck and subject myself to the risk and scrutiny inherent in people going into a voting booth and either choosing or ignoring my name.   

        I don’t need the personal validation of an election victory. I know what my gifts and talents are, no matter the outcome. I ran for office for one reason: I have something to offer my community. Too many people in this town operate within the box. I do not. My town needs a new type of thinking soon, even if it doesn’t come from me. But I want to be part of changing the mindset around here, because I know I can really help. But I’m not deluded enough to think I’ve got the market cornered on anything. There are similar-minded people in this town with the desire and the talent to make it happen. They need to be awoken.
  
        I’ve made a lot of new friends on the path of this election, and I’ve also learned just how much some of my old ones respect and support me. I am truly and utterly humbled by their belief in me. Please allow me to name a few of the ones who touched me along the way.
 
        Thank you to every person who took a pen in hand to sign my nominating petition. You changed a task that totally intimidated me into a life-affirming experience. Diane Matichak, thanks for sitting with me at Thirty Buck for an hour-and-a-half one night in early November and notarizing all 100 of my petition sheets. I got 950 of those petition signatures on my own. Thank you to Laci O’Connell and Barb Yanke for getting the rest.
  
        Thank you to Nick Ndoca, my friend Andrew’s brother and, also, my friend, who walked several precincts for me in Shorewood for no other reason than he believes in my ability. And to the others who walked for me when the weather turned cold and blustery enough to sink the Edmund Fitzgerald—my wife Patty, my son Cal, Gia McGrath, Kathe Malinowski, Tim Broderick, Matt Bertani and family, Kevin Codo and Vicki Perella, who took time out from working for Barack Obama to walk all of Rockdale for little ol’ me.
  
        To everybody who helped me fold and prepare campaign literature: Patty, Kathe, Peggy Christensen, Pam Roesel, Kim Swanson, Macilin and Savannah, Meg Honiotes, Mary Hannon and a few others with kind hearts and willing hands who pitched in on a couple of Fridays at Thirty Buck. And thank you to all the people who offered to help, but didn’t get the call. Blame that on me, but also, please forgive me. I made some mistakes in my campaign, the worst of which was failing to use every bit of help that was offered. Please know how much I appreciated your offers, even as I foolishly squandered several of them.
  
        To John Grivetti, a lawyer from near Ottawa, whom I met for the first time in October, for being generous with your encouragement, advice and good conversation.
 
        To Kevin Codo, for being the first to show his support for me with his wallet, and to every other person who supported me in big and small ways monetarily. Having your committee ask your friends and family for money is about the most unpleasant thing you can ever do to them. Thank you all for helping me feel like I wasn’t imposing on our friendships.

        To the friends who lent an “ear” when I needed a little humor injected into the nuttiness of keeping all the plates spinning when running for office. Thanks to old friends Dan Skolds, Mike Purviance, Tracey Perez and Marianne Holzhauer for checking in unexpectedly to see how I was doing. And to the best group of friends any guy could ever hope to have: my St. Ray’s crew–Danny Wilson, Andrew Ndoca, David Fehrenbacher, Kevin Codo and Chris Barney. And thanks to Ray Wilson, the most loyal guy on the planet.

        Special thanks to Jill Pristach, a good friend who almost single-handedly helped me get my brain around the reason I was running for judge by asking me a simple question: “Why are you doing this?”
 
        Thank you Mary Beth and Tim Rohe for your help with printing. To Rick Thayer for your help with food, but more for just being a good guy who’s always been a friend to me. And to Eric Beltzhoover, who gave me a boatload of personal encouragment as well as a homebase to do my work amongst a roomful of friends.
 
        Thanks to Chantelle Mika, a graphic artist who truly is an artist for her invaluable help with my Web ads and door hangers. To Valerie Gramberg at WJOL, who made it incredibly easy for me to make my radio ads. I don’t think I spent more than 30 total minutes in the studio. Thank you to my cousin Todd, a web designer from Algonquin for giving me design advice and ideas that I used when building my site. Todd, now that Feb. 5 has arrived, I promise I’ll get you that picture!
 
        To the people who told me they’re going to pull a Democratic ballot for the first time, just to vote for me; and to the several people who appear on my opponents’ supporter lists for telling me the voting booth is a sacred place where a person can do what they think is right. And to Paula Gomora for telling me that the people from our old neighborhood are behind me, no matter who the party’s “official” candidate is.
       

        Thank you to my wife Patty for bearing with a cluttered house, cluttered car, and a cluttered life for the last 5 months. I hope today returns some order and normalcy to the house and to our life. To my son Cal for making it through so many days with his dad either gone or busy without flunking out of school or getting arrested. But as of today, the sheriff is back on the job.
       

        Finally, thanks to Gregg, Anton, and above all, Jodi Wartenberg for your help and support. I find myself in the awkward position of Jodi now being fully aware of every good, bad, and in-between thing about me and my personality. The fact that she still seems to like me is something for which I am truly grateful, if somewhat surprised.
        Yes, today is a bright line kind of day. It will come, it will go, and my life will be different. And so, I’ll put this post up on the Web, go to work, make my way home, then head out to the Buck to join a bunch of my friends in learning the outcome. Whatever happens, I’m OK with it. Because with so many people behind me, I know Wednesday’s sun will embrace me no matter what lies on the other side of the bright line.
       

        To contact Tim, write him at timplacher@yahoo.com

I’ve been really busy with last minute campaign stuff, so i’ve been a little lax on blog posts these last few days. But on this Sunday night, I’ve got a few minutes to talk a bit about where I’ll be on Tuesday.

For anyone who knows me, it’ll come as no surprise to learn I’ll be waiting out the election results at Thirty Buck, the tavern owned by two St. Ray’s guys, Eric Beltzhoover and Rick Thayer. The former “Spa” has been a favorite spot of mine since, oh about, 1966. I’m guessing that’s about when my dad took me there for the first time, propped me up on a bar stool, and let me order a tall glass of Pepsi. 

Actually, though, The Spa was not my dad’s most frequent hangout. I probably spent about 10 percent of my childhood existence in Gruben’s, a tavern at the corner of Hickory and Lime streets in Joliet. It was owned by Dick Gruben, a man with a big smile and a bigger pot belly who treated me like one of his own kids while I was growing up.

He let me have the run of the place. I could serve myself from the cooler, make my own pizza in the stainless steel tavern oven, and change my own dollars for dimes and quarters for the bowling machine and pool table.

In Gruben’s, my dad taught me how to play pool. Former Joliet City Councilman Pete Pastore and a nice guy named Jack O’Brien taught me how to play pool for money. I got so good by the time I was 12, the men in the bar would bet on me playing against strangers who’d wander in the door from time to time. I also learned how to play euchre by standing over the shoulders of the men who used to play on the square table with the built-in chalkboard for scoring and the little shelves built inside the legs to keep the drinks safe and the tabletop dry.

Through all the years I hung out there on Saturdays with my dad, I met people from every walk of life in Joliet: from guys who drove city streetsweepers to judges like Big Jack Gnaninger. I loved going to the tavern, where I could be a kid, yet get the chance to listen in on the world of adults.

I used to fetch the patrons their smokes from the old pull-lever cigarette machine and restock the potato chips on the rack with the little clothespins. When the smoke would get a little too intense, I’d grab a Kayo (chocolate pop) and go sit ouside on the sidewalk, leaning on the wall. Every once in while, I’d wander across the street and visit the firemen at the old firehouse (now gone) on the corner. I’d help them wash the trucks and they’d let me sit up high in the driver’s seat. Ocassionally, they’d let me fire up the siren. When I became a teenager, I was invited into the Saturday morning golfing foursomes, playing every summer weekend at Woodruff for several years.

As I got into my mid and later teens, I started weaning myself off the tavern as my own social life started taking hold. But I’d still pop in there to sit with my dad and his buddies to watch a ballgame or shoot a game of pool. For all the years until my dad died in 1997, I’d occasionally walk in the door, go to his corner of the bar, pull up a stool and buy him a beer.

Gruben’s went through a couple of ownership changes through the years, but my dad stayed. And when he passed away, I took the $300 in change he left behind in his sock drawer, went down to the tavern and bought the house a round on Jerry. I’ve never been back.

Today, I take my son to Thirty Buck occasionally. It’s fun for him, but not quite the same as it was for me. In an age of Playstation and Xbox, he’s not nearly as fascinated with the availability of video golf as I was with the old sliding bowling machine. But he’s still there enough that most of the people know his name and the bartenders chat him up when he bellies up to the bar. I loved being a tavern kid in my youth. I liked knowing my dad had a place where a whole building full of people knew, liked and respected him. I’d like to think Thirty Buck is that kind of place for my kid.

So on Tuesday, that’s where I’ll be, enjoying some conversation and a few cool ones with some of my oldest friends and a few new ones I met along the path of this election. For months, a bunch of them have been calling me “Judge,” a pleasant pretense that will either continue or end with Tuesday. But it’s been great fun along the way. Thanks to all my friends–old and new–at the Buck.

To contact Tim, write timplacher@yahoo.com

For more information on Tim’s campaign, visit www.timforjudge.com