Home on the Range

“Oh, give me a home where the buffalo roam,

Where the deer and the antelope play,
Where seldom is heard a discouraging word,
And the skies are not cloudy all day.”

   "Home on the Range"                                              
  

Initially an 1872 poem by Brewster M. Higley entitled “My Western Home,” “Home on the Range” has been called the unofficial anthem of the American West and is the state song of Kansas.  Base-baritone Bing Crosby first popularized it in 1933 and subsequent versions have been recorded by crooner Frank Sinatra, Gene Autry (“The Singing Cowboy”), folkie Pete Seeger, pop singer Connie Francis, mezzo-soprano Tori Amos, and many others – even Disney characters Bugs Bunny and Porky Pig.  Neil Young’s version is on the soundtrack of “Where the Buffalo Roam” (1980), and Willie Nelson’s on “The Messenger” (2009).  “Home on the Range” was a favorite at Boy Scout camp.  I still know the chorus by heart.  One of its seven verses references when Native Americans roamed the range:

The Red man was pressed from this part of the west,
He's likely no more to return,
To the banks of the Red River where seldom if ever
Their flickering campfires burn.

 Chief Seattle in 1864

Chief Seattle statue erected in 1908 in Seattle's Tilikum Place

Chief Seattle (1786-1866) headed the Suquamish and Duwamsih tribes located in what became the state of Washington.  Due in part to the longtime East Coast bias of history textbooks, I had never heard of him until I came upon David M. Buerge’s new book “Chief Seattle and the Town That Took His Name.”  Known as an excellent warrior and orator, he was nearly six feet tall and given the nickname “Le Gros (the big man) by Hudson’s Bay Company traders. During the late 1840s, the Chief converted to Christianity.  When white settlers flowed into Puget Sound in the territory of Washington, Chief Seattle established friendly relations with pioneer leader David “Doc” Maynard, who proposed that the settlement of Duwamps be renamed Seattle.  During the Yakima War of the mid-1850s, when several other tribes opposed onerous treaty terms imposed upon them, the Suquamish and Duwamsih remained at peace due to Chief Seattle’s efforts.  According to legend, he made an eloquent plea to Maynard and other white leaders to respect nature and the rights of Native Americans that included these sentiment:

         Man does not weave this web of life. He is merely a strand of it. Whatever he does to the web, he does to himself.  All things share the same breath - the beast, the tree, the man... the air shares its spirit with all the life it supports.

Gene and Judy Ayers

In the Winter 2018 Ayers Realtors Newsletter, Judy Ayers’ “Home on the Range” column is about her at age eight and a half inadvertently pilfering the back seat of the Ayers family Woodie:

            It was a perfect summer morning. I attached my wagon to my red Schwinn bike, loaded up my sister Jane and we were off for whatever adventure might occur. One trip around the block and we found just what we didn’t even know we were looking to find – a couch for our playhouse. Leaned up against the back of a garage was an automobile car seat.  We wrestled it onto the wagon and made our way down the alley and back home. My mother could hear the commotion outside and inquired from the kitchen as to what we were up to. I told her we were cleaning the playhouse.  We emptied it of all our worldly goods – child sized table and chairs, kid sized stove and refrigerator, dolls, their furniture and clothing. Then we dusted and swept the place clean. We had to be selective as to what went back so our new couch would fit just perfectly.

          We hadn’t enjoyed five minutes of rest and relaxation when we heard voices and the sound of our back gate opening. Positioning myself in the window, I saw it was Mr. Ayers and his son, Gene, walking toward the playhouse. Gene and I were the same age, same grade, but not in the same class so I really didn’t know him. Besides, he had two sisters so he really didn’t want to know any more girls at the stage of his life.

          Mr. Ayers explained that he and his family had gone to the beach that morning and had taken the third seat out of their station wagon and left it behind their garage. When they got home, they found it missing and wondered if I knew anything. I shook my head to indicate I knew nothing. I was so emphatic, I nearly knocked myself out with my braids.  Having never said a word, I didn’t think I could be accused of lying. Mr. Ayers asked if I would keep an eye open for his car seat and he turned to Gene and suggested they head for home. I thought I was able to breathe again when Gene, apparently reading Hardy Boy books that summer, divulged the clue that led them to my back yard. Gene looked me in the eye with hands on hips and informed me that wagon tracks behind his garage led right to my back gate. We just stared at each other through the screened window of my playhouse. I wasn’t about to budge. He knew their car seat was inside and he knew I was hiding it and he wanted me to open the door. Mr. Ayers calmly assured Gene that he knew I would do all I could to help and they should go home.

      Meanwhile, I was in a fine mess and my sister was catatonic in a corner of the playhouse. Before I had much time to plan my defense, my mother, the woman with radar receivers for ears, said she wanted to know what was going on.  I told her about our great find in the alley – where people put things they didn’t want anymore. I reminded her about the box of clothes Mrs. Olson put out for the Salvation Army and in it we found two silk slips we used as evening gowns when I played the piano and Jane was the singer in our imaginary cocktail lounge. And what about that old glass chandelier I found in the alley behind Elman’s house and how happy it made my dad when I gave it to him for Father’s Day for his garage? She explained that the car seat was different and that when things seem too good to be true you have to use common sense.

        It was pretty tough to have to load the car seat on the wagon and drag it back down the alley along the same tracks little Sherlock had detected earlier. When I got to the Ayers’ house, I knocked on the door and asked to speak to Mr. Ayers. Gene came to the door with his father and listened to my explanation about me making a wrong assumption about the car seat being in the alley and my apology for not admitting to the car seat being in my playhouse. By now Gene was in Hardy Boys’ heaven.  Mr. Ayers kindly thanked me for being honest and knowing the right thing to do. He wasn’t angry. He thought I was a nice little kid and he liked my pigtails.

          Back home we had some furniture arranging to do in the playhouse and coming back down the alley, I picked up the empty box in which Mrs. Rosegarden’s refrigerator was delivered. I planned to use it for fortune telling. I would wear a costume with a veil and use my mom’s round glass flower vase upside down as a crystal ball and charge the neighborhood kids 5 cents. Back then I didn’t see in my crystal ball that I would one day marry the cute kid with the blond hair from down the block, that Jane would actually become an interior designer and I would one day be able to go into our garage any time I felt like it and sit on the same car seat in the back of the same old Woodie Station wagon.

Knowing her love of travel as well as cookery, I’ll have to ask Judy Ayers whether she meant the word “range” in the title of her column to stand for a stove and oven for cooking (recipes accompany her columns) or (also maybe) open land for roaming and exploring.  Of course, it could mean driving range, but, so far as I know, Judy does not play golf. I’m quite sure it does not mean firing range.

Paige Maki and Joe Mihalov; bridge players Marge Harvey, Fred Green, Hank Cecil, Phil Brockinton at Banta Center

Paige Maki wrote about bridge player Joe Mihalov for an assignment in her Indiana History class:  Here are excerpts of their 2017 email correspondence:

September 7 (Paige): Dear Joe, my first question for you is where are you living now? Have you always lived there? I am really excited for this project and hope you are as eager as I am. Have a great day!

September 8 (Joe): Dear Paige, it is very nice to hear from you and I am looking forward to introducing you to my life as well as the game of bridge.  We’ve lived in Aberdeen for the past 15 years. Prior to that, we lived in Shorewood for 10 years.  I retired from my CPA firm in Valparaiso 3 years ago and took up bridge, which I did play a little bit when younger, to continue to exercise my mental faculties.  

September 9 (Paige): Joe, that sounds awesome. You own the CPA firm? When did you open it? Aberdeen is such a beautiful neighborhood, and a really great place to live. I am actually very familiar with the area. Looking forward to hearing more about you.

September 9 (Joe): I bought the practice in 1992 and owned it until 2013 when I retired.  Yes, Aberdeen is a wonderful community. 

September 14 (Paige): Where do you play bridge and how often? What's your favorite part about the game?

September 20 (Joe): I play at the Banta Senior Center on Beech St. in Valparaiso, Tuesday and Thursday party bridge, Wednesday duplicate.  Banta Center was originally an elementary school.

September 26 (Paige): I would love to meet you there and interview you in person, as well as observe some games if that would be okay.

September 27 (Joe): I suggest we meet at Banta say 10:30 a.m. on a Tuesday or Thursday.  Select the date and let me know.  

September 30 (Paige): I may have to wait until my Thanksgiving break but until then we can keep corresponding through emails.  Did you live in Indiana as a child? If so where? What school did you go to? Where did you go to college?

October 18 (Joe): I was born and raised in the Robertsdale section of Hammond, where I attended parochial schools and George Rogers Clark High School.  I earned my BS in accounting from St. Joseph College Rensselaer, which sadly closed this year, ending its 125-year history.  As a kid, to me Hammond was a large city with stores like Goldblatts, Edward C. Minas, Woolworths, Millikins.  There were two big movie theaters: Paramount and Parthenon.  Hammond Civic Center also played an important part of my life, hosting high school basketball games, especially the sectionals, professional wrestling and boxing, and “the greatest show on earth” - the Circus! Today all that is left of the Hammond I knew as a kid is the Civic Center.

October 24 (Paige): Do you think that Hammond has changed in a positive or negative way?  Where did you hang out in your free time? 

October 28 (Joe): Hammond has changed in a negative way, in my opinion.  Downtown, for example, “ain’t what it used to be.”  Hammond, like most American cities of any size, is nowhere near as safe like when I grew up.   Back then we did not have gangs or gang bangers.  You could walk at night and not be afraid of being playing kick the can and baseball in the alleys with a softball and your fist as a bat.  In the evening, when the lights came on, we would play hide-and-seek.  Afterwards, we boys would go to Wolf Lake and “skinny dip” to cool off.  As teens, we’d head to the Chatterbox and have a soda, sundae, hamburger and fries and just hang out after school and basketball and football games

November 2 (Paige): Did you play cards growing up? What got you interested in bridge?

November 6 (Joe): We played “hit and spread” (a form of gin rummy) and pinochle.  I was introduced to bridge when I worked for the Internal Revenue Service (IRS) in Chicago.  Ours was a closely tight group and specialized in international taxation.  We played at lunch time and progressed to duplicate bridge when we gathered at each other’s home, taking turns hosting.  Sometime we’d rent a hotel room in Chicago and play late into the evening. Leaving the IRS after six years, I no longer played until a few years ago when I took it up again while vacationing in Florida.

November 21 (Paige): I met with Joe and interviewed him at the Banta Center. I got a lot of great information from him and watched Joe’s friends play party bridge. It was interesting to watch how they’d switch tables when one pair lost. The losers moved to the back table while the winners stayed at the front. Ed Hollander was Joe’s partner; he met him at Banta when Ed moved here from St. Louis. I asked Joe how living in Aberdeen was different from city living. He said that a car is necessary, that they live on a golf course, that it is very peaceful, and he has formed many friendships with neighbors. Joe told me they do not take party bridge too seriously and are able to talk during the game, while on Wednesdays during duplicate bridge things are much more serious.

At Chesterton YMCA, director Alan Yngve’s bridge lesson focused on a hand from last week where East-West pairs kept bidding up to four Hearts and North-South couples countered with Spades.  While those in four Spades made their contract, Alan explained that good defense would have set the hand had opening lead been a heart rather than from a doubleton Club.  Yngve explained that in situations where and your partner were both bidding a suit, it’s almost always best to make that the opening lead in order to minimize declarer’s ability to set up a side suit.  Yngve’s partner was Joel Carpentier; both were celebrating birthdays on what turned out to be Fat Tuesday.

 Alan Yngve in Feb., 2017; photo by Jeff Manes

Kyle Schwartz titled his paper on Alan Yngve “More Culture, Less Shock.”  Here is an edited version:

Alan Yngve is a tall, soft-spoken man who has traveled widely.  Among his many interests is a willingness to learn about and experience many different world cultures.  He grew up in Concord, Massachusetts where he spent 11 years practicing his engineering skills by damming the creek.  He also enjoyed biking in the woods and exploring the countryside.  His father conducted research in Woods Hole located on Cape Cod during the summers.  While visiting there, Alan learned how to sail.  The family rented a beach house on an inlet known for sailing. Alan was put to the test when his father told him to capsize and then “right the boat,” or flip the sailboat back on top the water by himself.  That was to ensure Alan’s safety if the situation ever called for it, out in the open water. Alan would continue to sail later in life.

Alan’s family moved to Dune Acres because his parents could not find any suitable place to live within the city of Chicago.  The Dunes would be his new platform for adventure.  His parents built a deck house from pre-assembled wood, shipped from New England on two 40-foot semi-trailers.  The house was constructed by a local contractor in which all the interior design was hand-crafted.  There are still fingerprints on the ceilings because the workers did not wear gloves and the oil from their hands can still be seen through the wood varnish. Alan competed in sailboat races and said, “I honed my small boat skills on Lake Michigan.”

Growing up, Alan learned chess and bridge.  His parents purchased an assortment of bridge books, which he was obligated to read, in order to become the fourth player needed for family games.  By high school, he had learned how to communicate through bidding in order to predict the outcomes of specific situations, also a valuable life lesson.  He took to the game of chess in high school and was in the chess club.  This is where he discovered the psychological component to analyzing opponents and anticipating their moves. He learned the importance of tactics and strategy. 

Alan attended Indiana University and the University of Chicago, where he continued to play bridge and chess and took a part-time job as a recreational soccer referee.  When he and wife Katherine moved to St. Paul, Minnesota, he coached his son’s soccer team.  In his studies he concentrated on history, mathematics, and Japanese, which led to his participating in a study abroad program in Japan. Alan said, “I had a Japanese-American friend in high school, and he was the trigger that made me want to discover another culture and I was fascinated by it.”  Alan taught English to Japanese students for five to ten hours a week in Tokyo.  He was paid very well, as if he worked a full-time position.  He said that Japanese curriculum mandated that students learn English in the fourth grade.  When I asked Alan how it was communicating with young adult Japanese students he said, “It was like talking to an intelligent 5^th grader.” He lived on a family’s farm performing an array of duties including milking cows.

I met with Alan Yngve at the Highland Lincoln Community Center Weekend Bridge Tournament.  The room was filled with square tables and bridge game boards and cards on each.  Most participants appeared to be over fifty and seemed to know one another.  Many women wore festive fall leaf patterns and Halloween jewelry.  Alan, his bridge partner Mike, and I sat down to converse.  Mike said that he was introduced to bridge in the Navy.  Alan and Mike were stationary, meaning they stayed at their table, whereas opponents changed after each round. There was a long table with food and drink for the players, and a director’s table with laptops and speakers connected to a microphone. Overall, I received a warm welcome; some women would say, “Of course, you can observe.  It’s good to have you,” or “We need more players.”  Some would laugh when I’d say, “Don’t worry, I don’t know how to play.”  One woman looked at her partner and joked, “We wouldn’t know anyway, isn’t that right?”  There was a professor from Trine University in Angola who coaches bridge for students who compete against other universities. and will be competing in a 2017 tournament in Toronto. 

Each round was different depending on players’ attitudes and style of play.  Some games were quiet, and seemed very secretive as if money was on the line in a serious poker game; others had players smiling and engaging in small talk, jokes, and jabs at one another.  In one of the quiet games, the tension seemed intense.  Mike jokingly (I think) asked his opponent on the left how many points she had, and she stared straight ahead and at her cards.  Alan chimed in to tell Mike, “She doesn’t have to answer.”  Mike had laughed during play, and the woman said, “Is that funny?”  At a nearby table someone called for the director.  Alan’s table continued to play, as apparently it did not affect them.  On another occasion, two players disputed who was supposed to change tables and who was not.  One gentleman stayed seated as he smiled at the man looking down on him with a stern face.  The director settled the dispute by saying that the seated gentleman was correct.  As his accuser walked away without saying a word, the one seated said, “See you later.” As one round was about to start, opponents called Alan and Mike, “the notorious players.”    

Alan described the use of an Alert card to clarify a move considered “unusual,” as Alan put it.  He said, “Alert means to inform all players that there is an unusual tweak to the normal standard of the game.”  It allows opponents to understand that something unusual is going on. Alan and Mike called “Alert” more than anyone else and then explained why to make sure that the opponents were clear as to the meaning. There was never a director called over to their table.  I noted the wording etched on Alan’s pen, “More culture, less shock.”  Alan shared his experiences playing in tournaments in Reno and New Orleans hosted in big casino rooms.  Caddies would come by to serve any needs before or after rounds, sometimes on rollerblades.  He and his wife did not make it out of the first round in either tournament but loved exploring such sites as Yosemite National Park.  A hiker, Alan said, “It is more fun outside the bridge rooms than inside.”

Alan’s family has lived in Spain and Lebanon.  Alan has visited and, in most cases, played bridge in France, England, Ireland, Scotland, Germany, Switzerland, Italy, Austria, Croatia, Lichtenstein, Denmark, Sweden, Turkey, Jordan, Morocco, Canada, Saint Martin, and Saint Barthelme. He added that a player only needs to know a few terms in other languages when playing Bridge since the game can be played mostly in silence.  Alan has played online bridge with players from China, Poland, and Turkey. 

Alan described living in Lebanon with wife Katherine, who worked at the American University from 2010 to 2013.  He could not obtain a work visa and had plenty of time to explore the city and its markets, which had more fresh and flavorful produce as compared to the grocery stores. While in Lebanon he visited the Roman ruins and described the experience as a turning point in his idea of the past engineering projects of man, and what people are capable of doing.  In Lebanon, he said, you could “ski in the morning and swim in the afternoon,” because the temperature changed so dramatically.  Their apartment overlooked the bay from the edge of the risen landscape.  It was one of the most beautiful places that he has ever seen. 

Alan said, “In Beirut [Lebanon] they play the French system, and most people can speak either English, French, Arabic or all three.  A woman that we were playing with spoke the “Alert” in French instead of Arabic and everyone paused and looked around because we agreed on using Arabic at the start of the game.  We all just laughed.” 

Alan believes his travel experiences molded his character into being more tolerant and respectful of civilizations both past and present. Alan’s life has motivated me into wanting to visit other countries and try new things as well as to practice, practice, and practice until you can get the hang of it. Alan continues to try new things and to help pass along his wisdom and expertise in cultural travels with others.  The game of bridge has been along for the journey with Alan as it has taught him a valuable lesson, “Keep it social, it’s an important aspect of Bridge.”