Going, Going, Gone Viral with “The Team at Clark & Addison”

I’ve previously blogged about my penchant for “fart-ups”—seemingly good ideas that I will think about for a while or maybe even spend a little time working on—before abandoning them to my personal black hole of unfinished projects and long forgotten to-do lists.

Sometimes, however, these fart-ups will hold my attention long enough to actually come to fruition and maybe even flourish for a while. The most recent fart-up that I have nurtured to success is my Chicago Cubs Memes account on Instagram. As a lapsed Cubs blogger with lofty ambitions of writing heart-felt reactions to every Cubs game and plot twist in the team’s annual quest to defy history, I realized two things. 1) No one on the vast Internets seemed to be devoting themselves single-mindedly to creating Cubs-related memes. 2) It was a lot faster to consistently share my thoughts about the Cubs by posting a meme than by crafting a 1,000-word blog post.

Thus, @CubMemes was born near the beginning of the 2015 Cubs season. As it turned out, a decent number of Instagramming Cubs fans were actually interested in the hot-and-hopefully-humorous takes that I had to offer. The account’s following grew tremendously over the past two years with basically no promotional effort on my part. It now sits authoritatively among other popular Cubs Instagram accounts with more than 7,000 followers and lots of interaction on my posts.

Not too shabby, right?

Well, the success of this fart-up made me hungry for more. I had been listening to the soundtrack of Hamilton regularly for nearly a year, and on one of my listens, I had the thought of rewriting the title song as a parody about the Cubs. I even had a phrase that could work: Replace “Alexander Hamilton” with “The Team at Clark and Addison.”

I floated this idea to my incredibly creative brothers, thinking that there was no way that we would ever actually find the time and energy to make it happen.

As the success of the 2016 Cubs leaned inevitably toward another playoff appearance, it occurred to me that this song was basically a musical form of a Cubs meme—and I had a devoted audience of Cubs meme fans at my disposal. I raised the idea with my brothers again, and we started a Google Document to remotely collaborate on lyrics. We wrote down phrases and people/events that we wanted to include from Cubs lore and tried to think of rhymes that matched Lin Manuel Miranda’s complex rhyme schemes in the original.

A couple weeks later (while I had put the project on the back burner), my brothers Chris and Ben messaged me that they had completed the first draft of the lyrics. This was actually happening!

Turns out the first draft was almost perfect. They recorded a demo version with a Hamilton karaoke track, and I got to work editing Cubs highlights and other appropriate Cubbie clips that fit contextually with the lyrics.

Last Friday evening, we all got together at my parents’ house to record the final version. We tweaked a few lyrics and then spent a couple hours recording the song verse-by-verse. The whole thing was a ton of fun, and a chance to hang out with my brothers in a way that just doesn’t happen that often anymore. Fortunately, my brother Ben can legitimately carry a tune and the rest of us managed to sound not terrible picking up the pieces around him. Considering we’re a bunch of nerds, I think we even handily pulled off the rap verses.

I spent the next morning finishing up my edit and laying in the final audio tracks. With my sister-in-law and niece in town for the weekend, I quickly uploaded it and posted it on my Cub Memes and personal social media accounts before we headed off to check out Open House Chicago. (which you should definitely check out next year!)

While we galavanted around downtown Chicago checking out the Aon Center, going on the stage at Millennium Park and strolling the deck of the Chicago Yacht Club’s anchored boat, the Internet worked its magic to make our Hamilton homage begin its viral rise to the top.

By the time we got home in the evening, it had more than 2,000 views. By the time the Cubs game was over, it had 3,600 views. By Sunday morning, we’d topped 10,000 views. The video continued to be shared by individuals on Twitter, and friends were telling me that /their/ friends—who didn’t know me—were also sharing it on Facebook with abandon.

My wife and I have talked about how there is a void to be filled in social media that could be called “Inside Joke Twitter.” When you sign up for an account, you would put in all of your potential interests, favorite movies, books, music, sports teams, etc. You could then choose different concentric circles of these interests and make posts about them. In this case, our video would fit perfectly into the Cubs/Hamilton crossover. While memes function this way to some extent, there are lots of memes that I only understand as a meme and not because I’ve seen the meme’s source material. This would be for deeper humorous dives among passionate fans of two seemingly disparate topics. Anyway, that’s another fart-up for another time.

Needless to say, many people who find themselves within the concentric circle of Hamilton and Cubs fandom discovered our video and were sharing it with each other. Twitter searches and Facebook posts frequently involved the poster alerting other friends to the video’s existence so they could enjoy it as well. That’s pretty much the definition of viral.

I don’t want to toot our horn, but in an age when comments sections are the bane of a digital content creator’s existence and ego, our video didn’t get any negative comments until a random “That was horrible” YouTube comment two days after it was posted—and it’s really only received one or two negative comments since then. My faith in humanity is being restored for the time being.

On Sunday evening, I received a tweet from a reporter at WGN Morning News who dabbles in quirky online stories saying that he would like to show some of it on Monday’s broadcast. I agreed, and the segment aired at 4:45, 5:45 and 7:15. It was pretty cool having our video appear on a news telecast that we had all watched growing up (and which still features the same newscasters for the most part). Unfortunately, by the time my Mom tuned in later in the morning, the main newscasters were incredibly disparaging of the video (which is kind of their schtick—to be cynical about everything), so I guess it wasn’t universally revered after all.

On Monday morning, I received an email from Chicagoist—a local Chicago news website—asking to do an interview with me. I called back the reporter and the blog post appeared in the afternoon. I figured this would breathe fresh life into the video’s circulation and I was right. The Chicagoist story led to several other news and sports website stories, many of which borrowed heavily from the interview I did with the Chicagoist reporter. It’s interesting to see how many news sites get their content from other news sites and just provide a quick attribution at the end. Takes a lot of legwork out of reporting…

By Monday evening, the video had received 20,000 views—officially viral in my book—and then NBC Chicago did a post on their website. This provided yet another boost, and the video has increased by more than 10,000 views each day, currently sitting above 50,000.

Last night, Sports Illustrated ran a story on their website, so I think we’ve pretty much peaked in terms of media coverage. Here’s a list of links to all the media mentions for posterity:

Sports Illustrated

Chicagoist

NBC Chicago

WGN Radio

Timeout Chicago

The Postgame

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As I said in the Chicagoist interview, I was hoping that this would eventually attract the attention of Hamilton composer Lin Manuel Miranda on Twitter, but that has yet to happen. Tonight is both the official opening night of Hamilton in Chicago and Game 3 of the NLCS.Also, it turns out that Lin-Manuel Miranda’s father tweeted the video! There’s no time like the present for Lin to tweet it out himself.

Beyond achieving online virality, getting decent media coverage and engaging in a quest for a famous Twitter mention, this project was mostly just fun to do because I never expected us to actually do it and because I got to do it with my brothers. We’ve talked off and on for years about how we should try to get our creative juices flowing in unison and use our talents to produce something fun like this. While none of us are quitting our day jobs to become YouTube celebrities just yet, it is pretty awesome to realize that we made more than 50,000 people smile through this seemingly frivolous endeavor. We live in an amazing time when something like this can be created, shared and enjoyed by so many people so easily.

And don’t get me started on the joy of watching the Cubs move ever closer on their journey to the World Series. To steal a line from Hamilton—how lucky we are to be alive right now.

Go, Cubs, Go! (and thanks to everyone who watched and shared our video)

One Year of Remissioning

It was one year ago today that I got the news I had been waiting six months to hear. My cancer was in remission. While I won’t be considered by the medical community to be “cured” until August 2020, hearing that there was “no evidence of disease” still meant to me that I had conquered the most grueling personal challenge I had ever faced. It meant an end to weekly doctor’s appointments and blood tests. It meant a return to work and exercise and ramping back up to full strength. It meant getting my eyebrows back and at least a little more hair on my head. It meant that I was meant to face down cancer and live, when so many others were not so blessed.

It’s only one year later, but the world looks so much different to me today. The experience of fighting cancer changed me irrevocably and tremendously, but I didn’t expect my life to change all over again in my first year of remission.

Remission.

Now I’m no linguistic scholar, but I don’t think the parts of that word sound like they have anything to do with overcoming an illness. Nevertheless, it’s a rather apt word for how I’ve spent much of the past year.

I’ve been re-missioning.

In fact, I’m on a completely new and wonderful mission now–a life change that was almost as unexpected as my initial cancer diagnosis, but a billion times more joyful.

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As I type this post, my daughter Madeline is lying next to me in her rock ‘n play sleeper, baby-grunting and beginning to stir as she prepares to wake up for her eighth meal of the day. She turned three weeks old yesterday, and she’s the most perfect creation I’ve ever seen.

I can’t help but consider her to be a miracle–and I know that all children are miracles–but Maddie counts doubly so. Before I embarked on my treatment journey, three different doctors told me that chemotherapy had rendered greater men than me sterile, so I should probably make plans for my future fertility (and defy Catholic teaching on the subject). Theresa and I forged ahead in faith–trusting God’s plan for our family, even if that meant that Lumpy would make us a permanent party of two. When I received my remission news last year, the oncologist told us that even if we could get pregnant, we most likely wouldn’t be able to do so for a year and shouldn’t really even try until then. I guess that would be right now.

But just as God surprised us by making 2015 the Year of the Lump, he surprised us again by making 2016 the Year of the Bump. With that positive pregnancy test last December, we were instantly re-missioned.

I won’t pretend that Lumpy didn’t make a few cameo appearances in the past year. He came back like clockwork every three months when it was time for another scan and randomly haunted my psyche with worst-case scenarios: What if the cancer came back? What if I got sick after the baby came? What if the baby was sick? Is that another lump in my neck?

Fortunately none of these dramas ever played out in reality. My latest scan last week appears to be my cleanest yet. I’ve found a new oncologist who actually seems to care a lot about my health and who understands the importance of bedside manner when you’re dealing with cancer. Theresa gave birth to Maddie with no complications (read the epic tale!) and Maddie is as healthy as can be.

This entire pregnancy and year of remission has been filled with “What did I do to deserve this?” moments of gratitude–spawned from an experience that normally poses that question in the other direction. I know that I wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t been there, so I can’t help but look back at the marvelous timing of all these staggering life events with wonder and gratitude.

Perhaps it’s fitting that this is my 100th post on this blog–a blog that I started simply to chronicle the experience of my 30s and all the big moments I presumed would be heading my way in that decade. If I could send these 100 posts to my 29-year-old self, I wonder what he would make of it. Would he be afraid? Proud? Shocked? Perhaps he’d be most surprised that I actually kept it up.

As I turn 34 in three months, it would be tempting to hope that the latter half of my 30s is more predictable than the former. But these years have taught me the value of change, the importance of faith and the rewards of following a path that sometimes isn’t clear until you’re looking back at where you came from–and suddenly you’re happier than you’ve ever been before.

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Is it Time to Find a New Oncologist?

As I type this tonight–about two months from my one-year No Evidence of Disease remission anniversary–I find the thought almost comical: Why would I switch oncologists now? After all, I’ve already endured 12 rounds of chemo on my current doctor’s watch, put up with his idiosyncratic bedside manner, his maddening lack of clarity and availability, some mistakes in treatment and his Groundhog Day-like inability to remember the details of my case between visits.

After reading that last sentence, perhaps you’re wondering why I stuck with him in the first place. Well, the answer is largely because the hospital was conveniently located minutes from my house and my oncologist was supposed to be administering chemotherapy according to the marching orders of a highly respected lymphoma doctor at the University of Chicago who provided my second opinion and course of treatment. That doctor assured me that chemotherapy is chemotherapy no matter where you get it, and it seemed a lot smarter to get it five minutes from my house than to brave rush hour traffic to-and-from Hyde Park once a week for chemo sessions or checkups.

But I’m assuming that while the ABVD chemotherapy poisons are the same everywhere, the level of care from your oncologist can differ greatly from practice to practice. And in that department, my oncologist could surely use some…practice.

So what was the straw that broke the camel’s back? It happened earlier today. My wife and I had recently been chatting about how I am due for another PET or CT scan, as my oncologist had said he wanted me to get one every three months for the first year. For each of these scans, we have had to call his office to see if he still wanted me to get one and had to connect with him in order to get the scan ordered. (Is this normal? Or is the office supposed to call you to schedule your scans? I have no frame of reference for this beyond my dentist and my eye doctor, who always call or send a postcard when I’m due for some maintenance. Fellow cancer patients and caregivers: what has been your experience?)

Completing these scans is always a stressful experience for me–both because I hate getting stuck with needles and also because I always have a fear in the back of my mind that the scan won’t be clear and I’ll need more chemo or radiation or some other form of cancer-fighting torture. At the appointments to get the results of my three-month and six-month scans, it was clear that my oncologist had not even looked at the results before entering the room, which left my wife and I quivering in fear as he read them over in our presence. After the first scan, there was some ambiguity in my throat that required me to go back to the ENT who originally diagnosed my cancer. But my doc hadn’t seen this before I was in the room, so we got to watch him process it and ask me questions about my general health before he told us what was going on. It was terrible.

After my six-month scan, he reacted incredibly positively to the completely clear scan as he read it for the first time in front of us…because he thought this was my first scan after remission. When I complained about having to drink a disgusting contrast liquid before the scan, he told me that they didn’t need an abdominal scan because my lymphoma was in my neck, so I wouldn’t have to do that for any future scans. That’s nice, but we still got charged for the unnecessary abdominal scan that was clearly ordered because he wasn’t paying enough attention and didn’t bother to examine the details of my case.

But the back-breaking straw came today, when my wife once again called his office to find out if he still wanted me to get a nine-month scan and to get it scheduled. The office left a voicemail saying that we were supposed to have come back for a checkup after two months (which was never suggested to us on our last visit and had not previously been the protocol) and that my doc wanted me to get a scan of my chest, abdomen and pelvis.

Even casual readers of my cancer adventure will remember that my cancer presented as an enlarged lymph node in my neck. SO WHY IS HE NOW REQUESTING A SCAN OF EVERY LOCATION EXCEPT THE PLACE WHERE THE CANCER WAS?

I’m sorry. I’ll calm down. And turn off caps lock.

A quick scan of his waiting room tells me that he sees a lot of patients and that some of his patients probably have lymphoma. But I also know that I am probably one of the only ones who is under 35 and therefore perhaps a little more memorable than a lot of the older cancer patients he sees. But even if he couldn’t exactly remember the details of my case, shouldn’t he look at my chart a bit more carefully before ordering incredibly expensive scans that are meant to ensure that the cancer hasn’t returned?

So this is why I kind of want a new oncologist now. But I’m not sure that’s even an option for me. Do oncologists take on patients who are in remission and just come in for tuneup scans?

In the 17 months since Lumpy first entered my life, I have tried to be a resource for anyone who is dealing with similar health issues. I’ve tried to meticulously catalog my experiences in the hopes that it could bring comfort or knowledge or solidarity to others who find themselves fighting their own Lumpy.

But tonight I find myself somewhat frustrated and in need of advice. If you are reading this and have any experience with professional medicine or cancer treatment, I would love your feedback. Leave a comment or send me a message (roundingthirty at gmail dot com), and I would be very grateful for your insights.

Despite my frustration, I remain in good health–although perhaps gaining a bit too much pregnancy weight in solidarity with my pregnant wife–and richly blessed beyond measure. My oncologist and his staff did take good care of me throughout my treatment, but this latest development just feels like a logical breaking point, if it’s possible to switch to another doctor. Regardless of any of this, I feel so sure that all of the experiences that came from my cancer battle were oddly dressed blessings from God that fit perfectly into His plan and have prepared me for new and exciting challenges to come. Thank you for reading this and for all of your support!

Back to The Room Where It Happened

In the epic hip-hop Broadway musical Hamilton, there is a show-stopping number called “The Room Where It Happened,” that details a momentous backroom political deal that had long-lasting results. Over the course of my nearly year-long love affair with Hamilton, the title of the song has slipped into my lexicon to represent (sarcastically or otherwise) places where important things have occurred. Tonight–without sarcasm–I can honestly say that I returned to what is the most significant Room Where It Happened for me.

Tonight marked the first time in nearly four years that I came back to the school auditorium at Saint Mary of the Angels in Chicago. From the outside and the inside, it looks like any other 50-plus-year-old Catholic school facility in the city–certainly not the kind of place where you would expect your life to change.

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But there I was tonight, in the same space where almost exactly four years ago (give or take two months), I met my wife. Four years ago, I was a 29-year-old bachelor showing up for an intermediate swing dancing class with a bunch of Catholic young adults. Looking back, I remember feeling a lot of uncertainty about my life at that point. I was drifting toward my fourth decade with doubts about what exactly I was supposed to be doing with myself. I had a picturesque life–a steady job, a college teaching gig, a nice condo, a great family and friends–but the vocation of marriage and family that I longed for and fully expected to already have achieved by that point would still gnaw at me in my weaker moments. I began to have doubts about what the future would look like.

I trusted in God’s plan for me, but wondered if the blue prints I had drawn for myself didn’t actually match those of the architect. Faced with that conundrum, I guess I decided to sign up for my friend’s swing dancing class and look for pretty girls to date.


Tonight I found myself back in the auditorium and once again surrounded by Catholic young adults, this time for a speaker event sponsored by the Catholic Young Professionals of Chicago. I’m sure I would have attended this event four years ago as well, in search of spiritual wisdom, but also pretty girls to date. Tonight, I came to the event as a 33-year-old married man who is about to become a father for the first time. Consequently, I was able to focus solely on the spiritual wisdom…and that sharpening of my focus was actually one of the points of the speaker’s talk.

If you ever get the chance to hear Jeff Schiefelbein give a speech, make sure you take advantage of the opportunity. He is dynamic and inspiring and wise beyond his 38 years. His passion is contagious and I think I speak for many in the room when I say that his words left me wanting to be a better person and a better Catholic.

The theme that stood out–and played right into the nostalgia of the location for me–was commitment. Jeff posited that when you fully commit yourself to something, it can be a challenge, but ultimately a freeing experience. Based on the ways my life has changed and the commitments I have undertaken in the intervening four years, I couldn’t agree more.

By committing myself to Theresa for the rest of my life–and now bringing a new soul into the world to share in that commitment–I have freed up so much of the energy and attention that I was wasting on meaningless activities like forced relationships, physical and emotional insecurities, fears and doubts. The difficult and permanently binding commitments of marriage and fatherhood have given my life a purpose and fulfilled a vocation that were previously lacking. I am so grateful for the gift of this vocation, and the ways it has challenged me to become closer to being the person I always wanted to be. I know the refining process will continue as Theresa and I prepare to raise our daughter. I know there will be challenges that will sometimes make these commitments difficult to fully keep. But I also know that I have the focus and ambition to keep them–powers of self-mastery that I had not yet realized when I entered that auditorium four years ago.

Jeff’s challenge to the audience tonight was to live a life that honors your commitment to your chosen vocation as well as to your faith…and to live authentically in a way that makes these choices visible to the world. I am well aware of my shortcomings in both of those categories, but I look forward to integrating his advice into my life and helping others that I encounter to understand and respect the commitments I have made, as well as to embrace their own commitments and experience the freedom with which I am now so richly blessed.

News Worth Sharing

Being busy with a pregnancy and finishing up another quarter of teaching and taking a vacation and concentrating most of my efforts on Dad Has A Blog, I have been a bit remiss in updating this one.

Incidentally, if you aren’t already subscribed to or otherwise following that blog, you should probably click here and fill out the subscription form to rectify that!

If you haven’t been following that blog or any of the other places where I shared the announcement, you might have missed the news that we found out our baby is going to be a girl! You can read more of my thoughts on that in this post, but also watch the video below to see how we revealed the gender to my family and some of Theresa’s family who were in town this past weekend.

Theresa and I also just returned from our babymoon to Arizona (full post on the subject coming soon to a dad blog near you!), where we had a delightful time taking in a Cubs spring training game, seeing the Grand Canyon, eating at a non-Illinois Portillo’s, hiking some scenic trails in Sedona, and just generally devouring the 75-degree weather and the ability to walk around in a t-shirt and eat meals outside. It was a fantastic way to relax and enjoy each other’s company, while also being able to talk a lot about the new person who will be joining our lives in less than five months. We even spent some time by the pool reading our respective father-and-mother-to-be books.

While in Arizona, I also had a weird health-related issue, as a lymph node in my neck swelled up right before we left for our trip. It was the same lymph node that always used to swell up whenever I got sick with a cold in my pre-Lumpy days, so I didn’t think much of it. A few days into our vacation however, a giant sore formed on my right cheek–which looked a lot like a really bad acne pimple without any kind of head–and the right side of my face swelled up to an alarming degree. I didn’t have a fever or any other symptoms, and I was just two weeks away from a completely clean CT scan, so I did my best to presume it was just something wacky and unrelated to Lumpy. The swelling started to go down after a few days and the sore scabbed over, so it just looked like a really ugly flesh wound. Very attractive.

I went to see my oncologist when we returned to Chicago on Friday, and he recommended I get yet another CT scan and put me on antibiotics. Last night I got the scan (only two attempts needed to insert the IV this time…they’re getting better!) and had a restless night of contemplating my mortality while I tried to sleep. I have to believe that some of this anxiety is caused by the presence of the baby resting comfortably in utero next to me. If I’m being honest, the specter of Lumpy is still much closer in the rearview mirror than I would like it to be, given this wonderful new development. I need to trust in God’s plan for my life and know that He won’t give me anything I can’t handle. I think I was just a little discouraged by having such a random and strange issue develop on my neck/face so soon after a supposedly clear scan. What gives?

Today I went to my oncologist to find out if anything was giving, and I am happy to report that nothing is. Yesterday’s scan was as clear as the previous scan, so the doc said this must have just been some freak infection that will continue to heal itself with the antibiotics, and said that the big reaction is probably just a sign that my immune system is still a bit compromised from the chemo–even though I’ve been done with chemo since last July.

I can’t express the relief I felt from this lack of a diagnosis, and I hope it will be enough to finally put my mind at ease for a while. I have two other people’s health to concentrate on for the next…well, forever…and I want to start fully focusing my energy on that and stop looking over my shoulder for cancer shadows. It would also be nice if random freak health-related occurrences didn’t pop up for a while…

All in all, I feel so blessed to have the clean bill of health that I do, and to be having this miracle baby with a wife I love with my whole heart. To quote the wise sage Keith Urban, “There ain’t no doubt that God’s been good to me.”

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