Somewhat True Story

“You can tell my feet to hit the floor

Or you can tell my lips to tell my fingertips

They won't be reaching out for you no more


But don't tell my heart, my achy breaky heart.”
Billy Ray Cyrus

Toni and I took grandkids James and Rebecca out to dinner up the street at the Sunrise Restaurant (the fried clams were delicious) and then to Valparaiso High School for a performance of “The Somewhat True Story of Robin Hood.” The tagline: what would happen if Monty Python and Mel Brooks collaborated to tell the story of the hero of Sherwood Forest? The director knew Rebecca, having played Miss Flanagan in “Annie.” The kids had seen the play the night before, so they were prepped to laugh at all the funny lines. At their insistence we sat in the front row. A high school girl next to me did not seem self-conscious at being near an old geezer. I was impressed with the young people both in the audience and on the stage. I especially liked the actor who played evil Prince John, a tall, thin olive-skinned guy in a wig who resembled a young Ozzie Osborne. There were frequent modern references, including a Dungeon of Demise scene where Robin is tortured by being forced to listen to Miley Cyrus songs all night. There’s even a reference to her old man’s syrupy hit “Achy Breaky Heart.” James loves Miley’s Hannah Montana TV show and enjoyed the music, seemingly unaware or unconcerned that the references were a put-down. A couple years ago, “Vanity Fair” published controversial photos by Annie Leibowitz of Miley, including one of her with bare midriff lying on daddy’s stomach. Since then the 18 year-old (as of tomorrow, the thirty-seventh anniversary of JFK’s death) has been in a coming-of-age movie, “The Last Song,” and scored a hit with “Party in the U.S.A.” whose lyrics include, “Noddin’ my head like yeah/ Moving my hips like yeah.”

With Dave free Friday evening, we got two gaming sessions in over the weekend. I won a single game, a come-from-behind victory in Acquire thanks to securing (in a brilliant maneuver when Tom was talking concession to Dave) the most shares of Continental, the largest company. Tom Wade introduced a dice game called Roll Through the Ages that involves acquiring cities and monuments and avoiding disasters. It plays in about a half hour and will threaten to replace Stone Age (which Dave is tiring of) in our heavy rotation.

I got Toni to watch the “Car Pool Lane” episode of “Curb Your Enthusiasm” where Larry picks up a hooker in order to make a Dodgers game. He tries to sit next to Marty Funkhouser, played by Bob Einstein, who years ago as Super Dave Osborne frequently appeared on David Letterman. Supposedly a stuntman on the order of Evel Knievel, the stunts would inevitably misfire, leaving him grievously injured but still with a lightly pained but deadpan expression (still a trademark of his as Funkhouser). Earlier, Larry purchased marijuana for his father who has glaucoma from Jorge Garcia, the overweight survivor on “Lost.” When Marty’s car won’t start after the game, Larry gives him a ride to the airport and asks him to hold his jacket (containing the reefer) while he goes to the bathroom. He comes out to discover Marty being busted.

Janet Edwards talked to the Ogden Dunes Historical Society about Alice Mabel Gray, dubbed Diana of the Dunes by the press. Earlier in the week Edwards, who lives in St. Louis, addressed the Duneland Historical Society in Chesterton. In July Chesterton hosted a Diana of the Dunes Festival. A recluse from Chicago, Alice lived in a shack near Lake Michigan and myths grew up about a beautiful young maiden skinny-dipping at dusk on summer evenings. I wrote about her in my Gary book, and for my Tales of Lake Michigan issue artist Dale Fleming did a sketch to go along with a story about sightings of a ghostly woman running along the beach naked before disappearing into the lake. Well-educated, Alice quit her job in Chicago with the Astro-Physical Journal because she was frustrated at the lack of opportunities for advancement by educated women. Her favorite saying was Lord George Gordon Byron’s “In solitude we are least alone.”

Tina Horn needed help for a paper on women in World War II. I suggested she focus on “Region Rosies” and gave her “Gary’s First Hundred Years” and lent her my World War II Shavings issue (volume 21), officially out of print. Tina’s Purdue North Central instructor, Alex Kendall, was a visiting professor at IUN a few years ago and evidently spoke highly of me. Coincidentally a former student of mine in Steve McShane’s History of Indiana class is doing a paper on Willa Brown, a trained pilot from Chicago who recruited Gary residents to become Tuskegee Airmen during WW II. A statue honoring those pilots at the Marquette Park Aquatorium is next to one of Octave Chanute, whose glider experiments nearby paved the way for the Wright brothers’ flights.

LeeLee sent a newsy email about old classmates. Dave Seibold wrote her frequently while at Bordentown Military Academy (mainly lamenting the lack of contact with females), and she gave the letters to him at the reunion. Nancy “Sissy” Schade loved seeing old flame Jay Bumm. LeeLee concluded: “Thinking what might have been so many years ago, I doubt she was the only one reliving those carefree days.” LeeLee suggested that I send the tiara mystery to several other classmates, but I want to go slow to make sure Wendy doesn’t think we are mocking her, which we certainly are not. Here’s my latest paragraph: “Captain Cardinal could think of several possible scenarios to explain the missing tiara, all of which seemed highly unlikely. First, in her excitement at mingling with old classmates, Wendy might have misplaced it. Second, a stranger stole it, thinking it was valuable. Third, a classmate might have pilfered it, but in that event, who? There had been no African Americans on the Homecoming Court, which had caused disgruntlement at the time. Might Mary or Myrna have succumbed to an old wound stemming from that slight? Many Italian-Americans had thought Judy G. deserved the crown. Judy did not attend the reunion, but two of her best friends, Marianne and Betty, did. So did the younger sister of Molly, beautiful, immensely popular, and 50 years ago the odds on favorite, who had passed away six years ago. Might Sissy have acted on an uncontrollable impulse? Suzi, the only other finalist at the reunion, did not attend the morning breakfast and in any event seemed not the envious type. Male suspects? Jimmy and Ray had been best friends with Vince, whom Wendy dated in high school. Did either have some old bone to pick, perhaps feeling that she had come between Vince and them? Buck and Pat had been outrageous practical jokers in high school. Could they have pulled one final prank for old times sake? Might John J., the last person in the vicinity of Wendy before she left the Hilton Gardens, have harbored a grudge over the fact that nobody from his Fort Washington neighborhood had been nominated for Homecoming Queen? The Captain made a mental note to bring up these names at his upcoming meeting with Wendy and see if she had any other leads. Maybe her husband had taken it from her bag, intending to add precious gems and surprise her with it at a later time. No, he would have fessed up to that by now. One thing bothered him: why Wendy was going through the time, trouble, and money (he did not come free) to solve this mystery.”

Traded emails with Paul Kern due to the death of Bill Neil, who hired both of us. He recently read Bill’s memoir about his WWII service and exchanged letters with him about it. Paul bragged about recently making a hole in one during a golf tournament. I replied: “I recall how excited my dad was when he got one. A few years ago my brother discovered the scorecard in a desk of my father’s that he inherited.”

Bob and Karen Reller sent a newsletter about their eight-week “pilgrimage” to Israel along with a Thanksgiving card that wished their friends not only a happy Thanksgiving but also a “joyous holiday season” (a neat idea that gets rid of the need for Christmas cards). On the cover are photos of their grandchildren, Quinn (a girl) and brew (a boy). They arranged their Mideast trip so they would be in the Holy Land during the seven-day feast of Sukkot, during which time people take their meals in structures covered with tree branches in commemoration of the 40 years Israelites wandered in the dessert after their exodus from Egypt. They spent two weeks in Jerusalem with friends and another two at Beth El kibbutz, founded almost a half-century ago by German and Canadian Christians, as part of a “Hands to the Land” leadership program. I called them up and filled Rel in on reunion highlights.