Family Matters

Last Thursday I watched the East Chicago Cardinals tennis team, coached by my son Dave, defeat Lake Station 4-1. He’s back teaching three weeks after he was struck by a car, injuring his leg. His number one singles player Armando Nunez, played great, and his number two player has improved greatly and gutted out a three-set match. He lost his third singles player, Amaad, when the car also rammed him, breaking his kneecap and leg.

Friday we took a two-hour road trip to Grand Rapids, Michigan, to see Miranda, named to her high school’s Homecoming court, participate in an afternoon parade and then a halftime ceremony at the football game. Miranda looked radiant in her orange formal dress. Saturday we watched Tori score a goal in soccer and then took her, Phil, Anthony, and two of the kids’ friends out to a favorite diner. Delia was doing Miranda’s hair for the dance that night, so we took home a burger for Miranda.

Sunday I went one for three gaming with Dave and Tom, then after a Fun Day at James and Becca’s school Toni and I went to Anne Balay’s for dinner. We met four interesting characters from Chicago. Later I discovered that I had lost my Fantasy match with Anthony despite being one of the week’s top scorers. Not only is my top draft choice, Jamaal Charles, out for the season, but a Johnny Knox TD punt return was called back and the vaunted Jets defense only got me one point (all I needed was 10 points – should have played the Lions D; I’d have won in a breeze). In the Saints-Oilers game four times in the Red Zone Houston couldn’t get the ball to Andre Johnson and settled for field goals by Anthony’s guy. Then twice the Saints went for two-point conversions instead of letting my kicker gety an extra point. With ten seconds left and the Saints up by seven my guy kicked a field goal only Houston was off sides and the Saints coach took the three points off the board and instead had Drew Brees go back in and take a knee. What friggin’ luck.

Monday my computer wouldn’t open because I had not re-registered it. Lena at IUN’s HELP desk walked me through the procedure.

In the mail: a check from the Lowell Public Library for Shavings, volume 41, plus a letter from Terry Helton. He mentioned a book by Richard Laskowski called “Region Rat” that deals with Gary and the surrounding environs. Laskowski also put together a two=minute YouTube segment that looks like the pilot for a larger project.

I picked up a ticket for Thursday’s Avett Brothers concert. The opening act is the Nitty Gritty Dirt Band, whose big hit was “Mr. Bojangles.” Best Buy had a 2007 Avett Brothers CD called “Emotionalism,” and then it was on to see “Moneyball,” a tour de force for Brad Pitt, who also produced it. It deals with Oakland A’s general manager Billy Beane, who used computer-generated statistical info to put together a ball team that won a hundred games, including a record 20 in a row. Jonah Hill is great as his assistant, and Philip Seymour Hoffman (for my money, the best actor in the business) was perfect as curmudgeon manage Art Howe.

In my “On Their Shoulders” book will be a chapter on Leo and Minna, the parents TVA administrator David Lilienthal, who grew up in Valparaiso and Michigan City. Lilienthal kept a journal starting at age 17 on the advice of a young lawyer from Gary. We have six volumes of his published writings from it in the Archives. I have an interview with incoming Gary mayor Karen Freeman-Wilson on Wednesday. Chris Young thanked me for the close reading of his article on commemorative statues and passed along the info that Robert Paine, who did the Haym Solomon sculpture, was from Valpo.

Here’s the latest installment of the clandestine memoir about high school days: “Wendy most wanted to see Anthony Stuempfig, who arrived in eleventh grade looking for all the world like he belonged at Penn Charter, Germantown Academy, or some other private school. He wasn’t particularly handsome but oozed sophistication. Molly could have dated any boy in school, not to mention collegians, but chose to make him her steady, giving him instant credibility with classmates. In homeroom, curious as to the basis of his charm, Wendy couldn’t penetrate his air of mystery. During graduation ceremonies the school superintendent read out full names, to frequent guffaws at such middle names as Milton, Ebeneezer, and Buchanan. Anthony had two of them, Alex and Penn. Could he have been a descendent of William Penn, the founder of Pennsylvania colony? It was not out of the question, giving his signs of breeding. Years later, Wendy discovered an Anthony A.P. Stuempfig antique store in Center City Philadelphia. When she paid a visit, dressed to the nines, he waited on her, impeccable in a dark suit and pink shirt and tie. They looked one another in the eye for a few moments and in unison said, “I remember you.” She purchased a rare Victorian-era doll and asked him to explain its history at lunch. At the Bellini Grill they talked about old times, mostly about Molly, who had married an All-American type two classes ahead of them. Anthony traveled all over the world in connection with his business. They discovered that both evidently had both been in Florence, Italy, on the same date and even visited the same shops. He was a lifelong bachelor, explaining, “I never met anyone who compared favorably with Molly.” He made no attempt to flirt or follow up on their outing. Afterwards, Wendy couldn’t help wondering if he were gay. Perhaps part of his charm with Molly was that he wasn’t trying to paw her or get into her pants like so many others she had dated. Or maybe it simply was a case of others not measuring up against her.

“Wendy asked Jimmy’s advice on get together activities. She could imagine a long weekend of partying with Fifties music and movies such as “Rebel Without a Cause,” “Gidget,” “Rock Around the Clock,” and “King Creole” playing. She knew a promoter of Oldies concerts; maybe she could get Dion or Little Anthony and the Imperials to perform live. Her grandkids warmed to the idea, imagining hula hoop contests and dress-up contests and trivia games. Jimmy suggested flying down hoagies and steak sandwiches from Philadelphia. Better yet, Wendy replied, she could hire the owner of Geno’s in South Philly to come and make them on the spot. Those attending could plan a subsequent reunion – maybe a 50s cruise or maybe something that would take place on the same date as Sissy’s Class of 1958 fiftieth reunion. Around the pool and hot tub area they could open their yearbook and take turns recalling everything they remembered about teachers and classmates. At the 2005 reunion, which Wendy didn’t attend, Jimmy gave a short talk on memorable teachers, including exotic Rene Polsky, old maid Miss Le Van, lantern jawed coach Mr. Gilronan, dirty old H.M. Jones, gap-toothed Mr. Gebauer, and principal Norman ‘Sneaky Pete’ Jones.”