A ratty old handmade afghan. A Tunturi Executive Ergometer W Original stationary bicycle. A batik flamingo. A collection of broken watches. A 49-year-old steam iron. That list is a small sampling of the precious items the writers in my memoir classes wrote about when I assigned “Something I own that I should throw away…and probably never will.”

There’s the Tunturi Executive that lives on. And on.

Writers had all sorts of reasons for keeping their treasures. Kathy grew up in Kentucky, and when she moved to Chicago as a young adult she realized she was afraid to ride her bicycle in city traffic. “But a stationery bike! A Tunturi Executive Ergometer W Original! That could be the answer!” With a convenient bookrack on the handlebars, she was sure she could shape up her “post-4-pregnancies-body” while simultaneously upgrading her “literary bona fides.”

You can guess the rest. For nearly 50 years now, Kathy’s Tunturi Executive Ergometer W Original has sat idle in one room after another. eBay calls the Tunturi Executive Ergometer W Original “vintage” and offers one for $50. “But eBay will never get mine!” Kathy declared in her essay. “It isn’t exactly new, but it certainly isn’t used! I will use it someday. Just call me a cock-eyed optimist.”

After going on a special tour of Chicago’s Field Museum and seeing thousands upon thousands of relics stashed away in “huge mausoleum-like chests of drawers where no human is likely to accidentally see them,” Al reasoned it is absolutely fine for him to squirrel away dozens of old dead watches in a drawer at home. He wears his father’s elegant Bulova Watch from time to time. “It’s accurate at least twice a day.”

Mary Lou’s brown, rust and orange-colored afghan was made by a cousin who contracted polio when the two of them were ten. Her cousin Susan wore a back brace and used a wheelchair, but she had enough mobility in her hands to take up crocheting. Susan was especially fond of Mary Lou’s father, and he was the first to receive one of her handmade afghans. “A great fuss was made at the presentation,” Mary Lou wrote. “So now you understand why I will never discard that raggedy afghan.”

Lorraine’s essay described the two-foot tall shocking pink flamingo on black silk her husband gave her when their first baby girl was born and said it still reeks of the ‘80’s, cigarette smoke and all. “If it had been a jacket instead of a wall-hanging, it would be on sale at Etsy Vintage for $32.” Lorraine’s husband died when their baby girl was seven years old. “Flamingos no longer decorate cool bars and chic eateries or loft apartments.” Lorraine wrote. “They are as scarce as they are in real life. I still have one.”

When Regan’s baby Joe was born, her mother gifted her with an iron so she could iron the baby’s clothes. “My mother, Agnes, went to church at the ironing board,” Regan wrote, describing how ironing had calmed her mother’s nerves – and relieved her mother’s hangovers – when Regan was growing up. “As she conquered the wrinkles at hand her furrowed malcontented brow smoothed out,” Regan wrote. Wondering why she’s held on to the iron her mother gave her all those years ago? Find out by reading Regan’s essay in its entirety. Regan publishes her essays on her own Back Story blog.

I was a terrible cook when I could see, and a miraculous change didn’t happen when I went blind.

I’m still a bad cook.

That’s Mr. Loellbach. You won’t see him on Diners, Drive-ins and Dives.

Our neighbor and friend Jim Loellbach is a chef, and before attending Le Cordon Blue, he was an aeronautical engineer at NASA. Proves what I’ve known all along. Cooking is rocket science.

Mike threw a spectacular birthday party for me last year, and one (of many) highlights was having Chef Jim there to create scrumptious appetizers for all the guests. Mike knew Chef Jim would not disappoint: The two of us have had the privilege of enjoying many magnificent homecooked meals with Jim and his wife Janet (a good cook in her own right) ever since we moved to Chicago’s Printer’s Row neighborhood in 2003.

I love hearing Jim’s stories about summers at his grandparents’ small farm in Wisconsin and how he, his sisters and their cousins all helped with growing, preparing and preserving food there. He says back then he never considered cooking as a career, “but a seed must have been planted.”

Over the years Chef Jim has worked as a cook and sous chef in several Chicago restaurants and hotels — including the Four Seasons and the Pump Room. Late last year he opened Custom Provisions, his own business offering personal chef service and culinary instruction. This week a guest post Chef Jim wrote about his first clients was published on the American Personal & Private Chef Association’s official personal chef blog.

Jim opens his guest post acknowledging he’s new to the personal chef game and recently landed his first regular clients. “They’re a busy couple with a one-year-old child and another due in about six months,” he wrote. “In addition to the normal challenges that face any new personal chef, I’ve had to face one more: My clients are vegans.”

Chef Jim’s guest post explains what the vegan diet involves and outlines some of the substitutions for animal products he’s discovered and how he went about developing a “robust menu” for his new clients. Vegan doesn’t sound so bad his way. Read the guest post in its entirety here and you’ll be rewarded with Chef Jim’s own recipe for mushroom Bolognese.

And here’s the pitch, which isn’t a pitch so much,as a recommendation to do it for yourself: For more information about Jim’s personal chef service and culinary instruction, link to the Custom Provisions web site. For pricing information or to schedule a consultation, contact Chef Jim directly.

Beth and I bicycled to the White Sox game again yesterday, this time with our neighborhood friends Jim and Janet. The last time I posted about riding our tandem bicycle to a White Sox game, some people commented on how brave we were.

I’m not sure if they were referring to traffic or that somehow it’s unsafe down there on the South Side.

On count one, FYI: Bike lanes and a little forethought make the ride strikingly stress free and pleasant. Here in the South Loop, we can take the bike lanes—not protected but Wabash is pretty civilized—to 24^th Street. We jog a block west to State, where we take it’s bike lanes to 26^th street. At 26^th  there are bike lanes all the way to Wells. Head south on Wells and you go through a very pleasant, quiet neighborhood and you find yourself at the park before you know it.

It was a beautiful day at the ballpark yesterday.

I think it would be pretty easy to take the lakefront path to 31st and cut over there, too. But if you’re coming from the west, you’ll have to figure out your own route.

On the second point, the neighborhood near U.S. Cellular was for years considered dangerous—in particular, the area east of the park, on the east side of the Dan Ryan Expressway. That’s where hi-rise public housing projects once stood within a short walk from the park.

A lot of black people lived in those projects (though in the early days the projects were pretty racially diverse). Eventually, these buildings became crime-ridden, dangerous places. And that was enough to scare a lot of people—especially white people—out of heading to the park. (Even though, statistically, on game nights and days, area around the park was very safe). And some people were simply scared of black people.

The projects were torn down several years ago, which was not an entirely good thing, especially if you lived there, and it was in my view handled pretty poorly in many ways. That’s an important story worth telling at another time. But I wouldn’t be surprised if some people still have the notion that it’s scary around there.

I’m hear to tell you: It never really was. So get on your bike and come on down!

Two Safe & Sound blog followers who use guide dogs have contacted me describing very different experiences riding with Uber.

Kathy Austin and her guide dog Weller.

Kathy Austin is the Community Engagement Specialist at Second Sense, and she and her guide dog Weller use public transit to get to work every day. “Uber has been a Godsend for me since taxis in my neck of the woods are limited or nonexistent,” she said in a Second Opinions blog post she wrote in reaction to the Taking Uber with a guide dog: jury still out post I’d published here. ”Let’s give Uber a chance to prove they are working to accommodate people with service animals.”

A second blog follower who lives in Chicago emailed me with a different story. She wrote an email message saying that the first time she tried using Uber the driver wasn’t friendly and seemed to be bothered she had a guide dog with her. “But we did arrive @ our destination in a timely fashion…”.

The driver’s not-so-friendly attitude made Pam reluctant to try Uber a second time. But then she got an offer from Uber for a free ride (valued up to $15 — money talks!).

Pam requested a ride and was given an option to do a shared ride at a reduced rate. “That was helpful since the total price was more then the $15 free ride promotion.”

When Uber driver Akwasi was getting close, Pam sent a message letting him know she was blind and would be waiting outside with her guide dog. “I wanted him to know I needed him to say something out loud to let me know when he was here.” From Pam’s email:

Akwasi phoned me back and told me that he can’t take me because he has 2 passengers already. I told him that my dog doesn’t require much room at all, he will curl up on the floor at my feet. This is especially possible when I’m sitting in the front seat of a car, but Akwasi told me I’d have to sit in the back, so he was going to cancel my ride.

Uber charged Pam a $5 cancellation fee for the ride Akwasi cancelled. She still needed to get to her appointment, so she requested another ride, but this time she didn’t alert the driver about her guide dog. “That’s when Ralph the driver pulled up and told me I can’t ride Uber pool because it’s a shared ride and people are uncomfortable riding with dogs,” she said. “He told me that I can only ride regular Uber, but not the shared ride.”

Pam tried to explain to Ralph that she’d chosen the shared ride because it’d be less expensive, but he wouldn’t listen. “He kept repeating that other passengers aren’t comfortable riding with service animals and this is a shared ride and I need to use the regular Uber where I can ride alone.”

Ralph drove off without Pam and her dog, but he never cancelled her ride. “Instead he used my free ride voucher to get paid for a ride I never took to and from destinations that I’ve never been.”

Pam missed the appointment she’d been heading to and used that time to call Uber instead. From her email message:

Jake, the young man that phoned me says they will refund my $5 cancellation fee and take care of these matters, but I’m a bit concerned now. Are these drivers going to lose their jobs and come after me?! The world is a crazy place and these men know where I live. Should I be doing something more? Is there someone else that is documenting these situations?

Turns out there is someone documenting these situations. On Thursday Pam phoned Disability Rights Advocates and spoke to Julia Marks, one of the attorneys handling the lawsuit against Uber in California. “She was very receptive to my call and very interested in documenting all that transpired between myself & Uber,” Pam said.

In the end, I’m pretty sure Kathy Austin would agree with Pam’s summary: “The Uber settlement is a great start for us, but now we need to make sure it’s being enforced!”

This is totally anecdotal. Subjective. Not data driven.

But I’m pretty sure that people are gradually losing the art of conversation.

Not that we don’t talk. I think we talk more than ever. But it seems to me that we too often talk at each other, not with. We’re flashing aural bumper stickers at each other.

A good conversation is greater than the sum of its parts.

I’m talking about this thing where conversation can be a medium for learning, but it seems to have morphed, too often, into an opportunity for self-promotion.

For example: You tell me you’re going to Paris. I could say, “Oh, where are you staying?” “Business or pleasures?” “Do you have friends there?” I could seek more information and then see where it goes.

Instead, I say. “I’ve been to Paris. I love Paris. I stayed in the Marais. I had the best falafel every In Paris. Can you believe it?”

And boom. I’ve stopped things in their tracks. Now it’s not a back-and-forth, let’s compare notes, let’s explore where we interpreted things differently, or one of us like something the other didn’t, and learn something new.

Now it feels like a contest of sorts, a competition of our experiences.

This happens all the time. Travel, restaurants/food, and maybe especially health care. One person mentions having their gall bladder out, and next thing you know, their friend is off on a tale about his gout.

The initial impulse is still pure. That is, say, you tell me you’re taking care of a sick relative. I say, yeah, I know what that’s like because…”. The idea being to signal the other party that we have something in common, you’re not alone, you can talk to me.

But in the modern world, it can quickly become a sort of SNL skit about how my experience trumps yours. We’re unwittingly running commercials for ourselves.

I think this is real, and it’s something that has developed in my lifetime. And I have a theory about it. Namely, it’s the hyper-commercialization of our culture, particularly since around the 80s, when we started using terms like, “You have to learn to market yourself.” To the point where, the other day, I saw an ad for a seminar on “How to become a brand.”

As the idea that selling ourselves is a 24-hour job took root, bragging and self-promoting somehow shifted from a vice to a virtue, and only suckers didn’t get the memo.

Fortunately, conversation isn’t extinct. A good conversation can be a little epiphany. You find out something about another person you’d never have guessed. You find out what you had wrong about them. It can make you take a fresh look at your own opinions and find them wanting. You find out you have common ground you’d never believe.

No one’s immune from the conversation-killing bug, including me. I try to catch myself and remind myself: Ask questions — you learn more from listening than talking. It’s OK to bring up your own experience in the interest of exploring the topic, but not with the intent of changing the spotlight. The spotlight will shift back and forth if you let it. And, well, just listen.

I’ll try to remember all that, and talk with you soon, I hope.