Friday, July 23, 2010

Condo Board Meeting

The Sand Creek Condominium Association holds board meetings every three months, to which all residents are invited. Since Court One presently has no representative (the previous owner of our unit having moved), I attended in order to bring up the matter of ruts made by a lawn mower in the common area behind our unit. Also I welcomed the opportunity to meet some neighbors. The meeting lasted two and a half hours (sigh!), but I did get a promise that landscapers will fix our ruts in the fall. I also received permission to plant ground cover in a bare spot along our side yard. Jamison Menacher, who recently moved into the old board president’s unit and was talked into becoming his successor despite often being on the road, asked if I would agree to be Court One’s representative. I agreed to do so only if nobody else volunteered. I’ll distribute a form to see if anyone else would do it. I hate meetings, but the board only convenes four times a year. Our neighbor Sue Harrison, who did it for a few months, warned us that people would constantly be calling with petty complaints, but I’d just be a liaison and would demand that people put complaints in writing. Being on the board would be a good way to learn more about the history of our little neighborhood. I really liked the hosts, Craig and Mary Henderson, and an old hand named Leo Rondowho also seems like someone I should get to know better. If someone else volunteers, I’ll be fine with that.

WXRT is starting to play LCD Soundsystem, the dance punk music of genius James Murphy. I’ve heard both “All I Want” and “Drunk Girls.” I don’t usually pay much attention to lyrics, but “I Can Change” contains these words: “Love is a curse shoved in a hearse, love is an open book to a verse of bad poetry.” The song ends: “I can change if it helps you feel real love.” Two bands currently on my “to get” list are Arcade Fire and The National. On “The Drive” (WDRV) on the way to work I heard “Your Wildest Dreams” by Moody Blues, a band I’ve seen a half dozen times in Merrillville and Chicago. Today was the first time in three weeks grandson James wasn’t with me. His Kids College class finished up with a show that included “Greased Lightning” and James doing a break dance. My final Pet Detective Agency story had James catching a dog thief with some help from German Shepherd Sammie.

In Updike’s “Rabbit at Rest” Janice realizes while Harry is hospitalized with heart problems that widowhood might be an interesting adventure plus allow her to eat soup straight out of a can and watch whatever she wants on TV without being subjected to ridicule. Harry’s tastes run more to sports than “Unsolved Mysteries.” Watching a Knicks – Bulls playoff game he grouses about Michael Jordon’s pink tongue “rolling around in his mouth as he goes up for a dunk.” Envy perhaps by the former round baller, but Harry always was slightly wary of blacks. As the Eighties are coming to an end Updike mentions Pennsylvania voters rejecting tax reform and concludes: “If there’s anything you can count on Americans to be these last ten years it’s selfish.” Prior to being seduced by his daughter-in-law Pru (before disrobing she produced a condom), Harry says, “Me, all they need to do is nail down the coffin. I can’t run, I can’t fuck, I can’t eat anything I like. I know damn well they’re going to talk me into a bypass.” Looking back to when he met Janice while both were working at Kroll’s department Store, Harry claims he first started realizing that nothing was permanent when Kroll’s went out of business after whites were afraid to go shopping downtown. Listening to an Oldies station playing “the music of your life” (for codgers), Harry realizes that the syrupy songs of his pre-rock ‘n’ roll era (“the doggies in the window and Mommy kissing Santa Claus and the naughty lady of Shady Lane”) were “as moronic as the rock the brainless kids bnow feed on.”

After Yankees owner George Steinbrenner died, former student Gary Hinton, who teaches and coaches at Culver Military Academy, was quoted in the paper about Culver’s famous alumnus. I contacted Gary, and he wrote: “Great to hear from you! I've thought about you, Dr. (Bill) Neil, Dr. (Rhiman) Rotz and Dr. (Ronald) Cohen often. I truly enjoyed your classes and I even borrowed your testing format (I.D.'s and Essay). I married in August of 09, and now live in Valparaiso (the drive to Culver allows me to listen to a lot of audio books)! Please send me a copy of your latest Steel Shavings magazine. I'm sure it's a great read. When time allows I'd like to visit sometime and get caught up. By the way, your Phillies are looking to make some moves here shortly - it may cost you a nice right fielder though!!!!” Despite defeating the Cardinals last night on a one-hitter by Cole Hamels, Philadelphia is mired in a slump and may not even make the playoffs. Rightfielder Jayson Werth, the subject of trade rumors, is a power hitter with speed. I’d hate to see him go.

Searching for additional quotes for my “Age of Anxiety” talk about the postwar years in the Region, I came across a photo of reporter Carrol Vertrees with county auditor Stanley Olszewski. I bet he’s related to Merrillville history book club member Mike Olszewsjki. I’ll use this quote from Lydia Grady describing segregation in Gary: “One doctor at the Gary National bank Building hired a black secretary, and the only place she could eat was downstairs in the drugstore or at the Gary Hotel restaurant because it was for people from out of town. There was a black architect whose wife was very light-skinned. She’d go to the beauty parlor in the Bank Building. I don’t know of anyone else who’d come downtown for that. Blacks were allowed on the first floor at Methodist Hospital only if they were mill employees hurt at work. If they had something really serious and had to get into Methodist, their black doctor had to turn them over to a white doctor.”

IUN student Jean Cullen interviewed East Chicagoan Bill Figueroa, who recalled: “My father thought he had my life arranged. I was to go to Mexico and study medicine, then marry a beautiful girl named Hilda whose father did business with him. My older sister got married that way. Her husband was ten years older. Hilda waited for me while I was in the service, but I married someone else. My mother’s mother came to live with us when she was in her 80’s. My father thought she came to die. She stayed for 20 years. She smoked homegrown marijuana every morning and had a daily shot of wine. She made a lot of money crocheting initials and designs on handkerchiefs. We had a very low crime rate because we were brought up to respect our parents. If I got in trouble, my older brothers got punished. It was like a spy system. Basically, that’s how it was in most families (and not just Mexican-American households). The worst thing you could do was bring disgrace to your family. The girls didn’t have much opportunity to get into trouble. They never left the house unchaperoned.”

Three books arrived in the mail from John Fraire that he and his bother Gabriel wrote, including a play entitled “Who Will Dance with Pancho Villa?” “Cesar Died Today” is of course about the great union leader Cesar Chavez. A novel entitled “Latino Jesse” has a cover photo of Gabriel with as a kid with his grandparents. I knew Gabe, whom we called Rocky, back in the days of Porter Acres, a former motel where my softball team and our many friends would have parties and picnics, often featuring live bands.

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