Moving Day

Moving day has finally arrived although we will be returning to our house on the hill for the next month or so. Another storm knocked down two big trees yesterday but at least we still have power (knock on wood). The Hagelbergs six blocks away were not so fortunate. I think Mother Nature is trying to tell us something. Yesterday I received an email from Vanessa Wilke, who grew up in our house before moving to California in 1966 at age 12. She is sorry to hear (from my blog) that the federal government will soon be tearing it down. She recalled the Bernstin house being gone last time she visited and added: “The Grandma, Ruby, watched me after school everyday. I rode Bus 14 to Crisman School. There were 3 young boys at their house. That's where I watched the T.V. coverage of Kennedy's assassination...black and white T.V. of course.” I forwarded Vanessa’s email to John Laue, who is putting together a book on people who lived within the Indiana Dunes National Lakeshore.

Alissa, in Rome last time she emailed, is now on the “incredibly beautiful” Greek island of Santorini. She reports “Spent the day on the black beach yesterday. Going to see a famous sunset at the tip of the island and to see the red beaches today. Volcano island trip tomorrow and going to the hot springs. Hopefully cliff jumping at some point.” She’s amazing.

Nephew Josef Robinson arrived in Indianapolis, where he’ll stay with niece Michele and Tom Dietz. Next week I am taking him to French Lick for three days. I always buy him three CDs, and he sent me a wish list of albums by far-out metal bands such as Nevermore, Hypocrisy, Eternal Tears of Sorrow, and Norther. He also included “Greatest Hits” by the Psychedelic Furs,” a band I also like. If I can find it, I’ll go with that plus new ones I think he’ll like by the Stone Temple Pilots and LCD Soundsystem. After he’s finished downloading the songs he likes on his IPod, he sells the CDs on Amazon, so if he’s not happy with my choices, no big deal.

Finally a day I did not have to drive Rebecca through a thunderstorm. As usual, I made up a story about “Rebecca’s Pet Detective Agency.” In the episode Maggie and Sammie help Becca find a newborn puppy in a blind woman’s broom closet.

Darcey Wade just finished a book called “Sh*t My Dad Says” by Justin Halpern. The author started out on Twitter, and things skyrocketed from there. He made the best-seller list, and a CBS series is coming up starring William Shatner as his old man. Since every other word the old man is quoted as saying has Sh*t or F*ck in it, a cable station would seem more appropriate. Meanwhile the condo got wired for Comcast yesterday. The package includes phone and Internet. We’ve never had cable or direct TV, believe it or not, but I’ve enjoyed Comedy Central and MSNBC at motels and will try not to become too addicted to the sports channels.

Toni and I had lunch at Flamingo’s with old friends Pat and Ruth Tyler, who moved to Birmingham, England over 30 years ago. We visited them in 1988 when I gave a talk on “Steelworkers Tales” at Oxford University. He taught Psychology at IUN and she would host an annual combination Easter/Passover meal. They were on their way from Michigan to Chicago with Pat’s older sister Eileen (who loves to folk dance) and brother-in-law Dutch, an old lefty organizer. He was friends with our buddy Ken Applehans, who lived a block away from Flamingo’s, so we talked him into joining us.

I reprised my “Age of Anxiety” talk in Steve McShane’s class about the Postwar years in Northwest Indiana. Since I had had students read Ryan Maicki’s reminiscences the first week of the semester, they were used to the routine and did great, frequently chuckling at the stories. I told them how it was common back then for the Board of health to quarantine entire families when a member came down with a contagious disease. One father slept in the basement and went in and out through a window in order to get to work.