Triumph of Love

“Suddenly I'm alive.

Given to singing a bit too loud,

Shedding my Aristotelian shroud,

Scrapping the various vows I vowed,

And quivering head to toe.”

    “Love Won’t Take No for an Answer”

Phil arrived for Dave’s birthday (August 4 is also Barack Obama’s; at 51 he’s eight years older than my son).  At Angie’s we had spring rolls with peanut sauce, a recipe from Alissa that she learned from a Michigan State roommate.  After heating rice paper wrappers, you added shrimp, raw veggies, rice vermicelli noodles and a few other ingredients.  Angie made a delicious cake and, at Dave’s request, a small cherry pie.  A storm forced cancellation of the Highland outdoor musical show Dave was scheduled to be in.  Many of his students had planned to attend.  We were disappointed, but at least Phil got to see Becca and James in “The Music Man.”

Sunday Phil joined Dave, Tom and me for gaming and won Acquire handily.  After I edged Dave out in Amun Re by a single point, he returned the favor in St. Pete. Dick Hagelberg drove us to Memorial Opera House in Valpo. “Triumph of Love,” based on an eighteenth century farce by Pierre de Marivaux, enjoyed a three-month run on Broadway in 1997.  I fought off yawns the first act, but the second was lively and quite ribald, and the performances outstanding.  The best song was “Love Won’t Take No for an Answer.”  Carly Blaine was especially fetching as Corine the hot-to-trot sidekick of cross-dressing Princess Leonide (Kyrie Anderson), who is plotting to for the hand (and more) of Agis (Michael Ohm). (Below)

With the temperature a comfortable 80 degrees we dined outdoors at Lucretia’s.  I needed doggie bags for most of my spaghetti and veal meatballs.  During bridge back at the condo I bid and made a small slam with Dick as my partner.

Turning on the news to get a White Sox score (they defeated the Angels thanks to A.J. Pierzynski’s fifth HR in as many days), I learned about the senseless attack by a white supremacist on a Sikh temple outside Milwaukee that left six worshippers dead before police killed the former army veteran Wade Michael Page.  The FBI is investigating whether this was a case of domestic terrorism.  Sikhs are mainly from India and not even Muslims.  Traditionally they do not cut their hair and wear turbans in public.  Women may also wear scarves called chuni.  On a more uplifting note NASA’s $2.6 billion Curiosity rover landed safely on Mars and started sending back photos.

Now that we have HBO again I watched a documentary about LGBT activist Vito Russo, who like many of his friends died of AIDs in 1990.  With a supportive family, he was a spokesperson for many Gay Rights organizations, including Act Up.  A film buff, after much research, he produced “The Celluloid Closet” and gave frequent illustrated lectures based on his book.  In many silent films gay characters appeared in a positive light, in contrast to depictions in later Cold War-era films.  By all accounts Russo was a sweet guy who struggled to keep the LGBT movement united.  Russo hosted a Public Television show “Our Time.”  Comedienne Lily Tomlin who “came out” during an interview with him.  Tomlin’s most famous characters developed on “Laugh-In” were condescending telephone operator Ernestine and precocious five year-old Edith Ann.

Having lunch at the Redhawk Café, I read an article in Atlantic by Isaac Chotiner about English humorist P.G. Wodehouse, whose most famous characters were the foppish aristocrat Bertie Wooster and his ingenious servant Reginald Jeeves.  Poking fun of class-conscious Brits, P.G. invents such comic names for his characters as Millicent Threepwood, Catsmeat Potter-Pirbright, Pongo Twistleton, Gussie Fink-Nottle, Boko Fittleworth, Stilton Cheesewright, J. Chicester Clam, and my favorite Cyril Bassington-Bassington.

The Vietnam Moving Wall came to Sharon, PA, and Suzanna Murphy did a crayon rubbing for me of the name of our mutual friend Paul Curry, an air force lieutenant whose plane went down in 1969.  I hadn’t realized he was 26 years old when he died.  He loved flying planes and must have volunteered to serve in that dirty war.  When I visited The Wall in D.C., I had trouble locating Paul’s name at first because his first name unbeknownst to me was Wendell.

Discovering that “Beasts of the Southern Wild” was playing at a Schererville theater just minutes away from where I needed to be at six o’clock, I checked out the highly acclaimed film starring six year-old Quvenzhané Wallis as Hushpuppy, who lives with her ailing father Wink in a southern Delta area ravaged by a flood.  Highly symbolic and very moving, the movie contained a cast of true characters who preferred independence under awful hardships to the protection of government aid officials.  With more than an hour to kill afterwards, I checked out “The Watch,” an atrocious, creepy comedy with three of my favorite actors, Ben Stiller, Vince Vaughn, and Jonah Hill, fighting aliens whose brains are in their big dicks and who can only be killed by blowing away their genitals.  Enough said, but I laughed out loud a half dozen times despite myself.

In preparation for a meeting at Pepe’s in Schererville with Roy Dominguez, I had lined up dates and times for two IUN appearances where we’ll discuss “Valor.”  One is Garrett Cope’s Glen Park Conversation and the other is a Student Life noontime affair called Soup and Sandwiches.  I’m also hoping the Alumni Association will sponsor an IUN book authors evening at Lake Street Gallery in conjunction with December’s Pop Up Art.  On hand at Pepe’s were Roy’s wife, two daughters and grandson plus numerous friends and advisers, including Oscar Sanchez, Lisette Guillen-Gardner, and Manuel Corazzari.  Sitting across from me was Louisa Montemayor, who reminded me she had written an article about her grandmother that I published in my 1987 “Latinos” Shavings.  After dinner and a discussion of strategies for marketing the book, Roy and I signed copies of “Valor” for everyone.  Since I emphasized that Roy was the sole author, I wrote “Best Wishes” and my name at the beginning of my afterword.

Louisa Montemayor’s article, entitled “Night School,” mentions that Estella arrived in Gary in 1953 at age 33 from a farm in San Benito, Texas, after her husband found work at U.S. Steel.  Unable to read or write English, her life initially, according to Louisa, “consisted of staying home and taking care of her husband and seven children.  She did not venture out by herself; the only time she went anywhere was with her husband Enrique.  She did join St. Anthony’s Catholic Church and the Socieda Mutualista Mexico and felt secure when she participated in activities with people who spoke Spanish.  In 1957 Estella enrolled in a class at Froebel High School that taught Spanish-speaking adults how to read and write the English language.  Several of her neighbors attended class with her.  Afterwards, she was very proud of her accomplishment. Being able to read allowed her to see the world through different eyes.  Now she could venture out into the city without her husband.”

                                                            (Estella Montemayor, age 18)