When “…and Ladies of the Club” was published in 1982, it sold only a few hundred copies. In 1984, however, the novel written by Helen Hooven Santmyer was chosen as a Book of the Month Club selection, made best-seller lists and was a popular book among book groups.

The Village of Roses, a.k.a. La Grange Park, proudly took claim to its name at the 49th annual Rose Show, June 14. Despite the cool and wet spring we had, there were approximately 180 entries.

The other day, I was talking with my brother about the trainer coming to the house for our dog, Mitch. My brother said, “Whatever happened to the days when a dog was a dog?”

For the past several years, the Farmers Market in downtown La Grange has been providing fresh fruits, vegetables, delicious baked treats and beautiful flowers to our homes and businesses.

Butcher, baker, candlestick maker … from the beginning of time, there have been entrepreneurs — those people who have an idea, start their own business, work for themselves and wear all hats in their business.

To me, one of the rites of summer is a summer reading program. It seems summer gives you license to read something you ordinarily don’t read — or for some people who must read for a living, it gives you the opportunity to read for the sheer pleasure.

Looking for a father-son activity that both parties would enjoy was a quest for Scott Jobb of La Grange when his son Jason turned 11 years old. Scott always loved cars, so he thought going to car shows with his boy would be a good way to do something extraordinary. He chose to go to the Heartland Nationals in Iowa. They had a great time away from home looking at cars all weekend.

When the wind blows or the rain falls and you are playing in a tournament or your normal weekend game, shorten your arm swing (not your turn), don’t even try to hit your normal yardages and play every shot with a slower more deliberate swing.

It’s Sunday night, about 10. And since I have a few hours before I have to go out and start fighting crime, I’m on the Internet, where I’m reading about tomorrow, when Kerry Wood and Mark Prior are both scheduled to pitch in a real live, honest-to-gosh game of baseball.

Time once again to renew my annual loud, obnoxious and ultimately futile call to reduce Wrigley Field to tiny, tiny pieces as soon as is humanly possible under the current rules and guidelines enforced by the various neighborhood associations and alderman (i.e., 34 years).

Day six in a post-Anna Nicole world, and only now do I finally feel like things are starting to get back to a fragile sense of normalcy. For instance, this afternoon I turned on the TV, and they were talking about some dude with a beard named Mahmoud something or another. I didn’t catch the name. Long names make me sleepy. Anyway, he seemed angry.