State of Disunion

    “I rise today with no small measure of regret, regret because of the state of disunion, regret because of the disrepair and destructiveness of our politics, regret because of the indecency of our discourse.” Senator Jeff Flake (2013-2019), Republican critic of Trump

When I heard that Trump had given the Presidential Medal of Freedom to racist demagogue Rush Limbaugh during the State of the Union presentation, I was glad I’d been playing bridge at the time because I might have done damage to the TV.  Here’s Ray Smock’s take on the fiasco, titled "State of Disunion":

    Last night’s State of the Union address will go down in history as a formalized campaign rally, complete with wild cheers, applause, and chants of “Four More Years“ from the Republicans in the chamber and with silence punctuated by occasional jeers from the Democrats. It had all the elements of President Trump’s demagogic style. It was designed not for the brain, or even the heart, it was a punch in the gut to the president’s political enemies and a prelude to the coming campaign. As such, it will take its place in the annals of such addresses, as a sign of our divided times.

    Rush Limbaugh is the single most controversial broadcaster in the nation, and ranks with past spewers of hatred, conspiracy, and distrust of government, with the first radio demagogue, Father Charles Coughlin, the “Radio Priest” of the 1930s. Coughlin’s broadcasts reached 30 million listeners and featured economic and political attacks on Franklin Roosevelt's administration and the dangers of Jewish bankers. Coughlin was finally kicked off the radio in 1939 for his anti-Semitism and for espousing support for fascists like Hitler and Mussolini.

    To give this high honor to such a polarizing figure as Rush Limbaugh, a man who has been Trump’s mouthpiece in attacking his chief political rival, and to do it before a large television audience in the chamber of the House of Representatives was a sickening display of the Trump notion that if he does it, it’s OK, because he’s the president. Nobody else matters.  At the end of the speech, Speaker Nancy Pelosi made a clear show to her party and the nation that she wanted no part of the lies in the speech, or Trump’s use of the People’s House for his re-election campaign. She deliberately, and with emphasis, showed her disgust for the whole performance by tearing up copies of the president’s speech. The president did not see this at the time. His back was turned as he was leaving the podium. Earlier, the president refused to shake the Speaker's hand, when she offered it.

April Lidinsky posted this reaction: “Weep for our democracy in the hands of such craven people.  And VOTE.”  Alan Gardner emailed Smock: “Thank you for the review with an historical perspective that magnifies his shameless, sociopathic behavior. He sullies everything he touches, physically and verbally; and he leaves a proverbial slime trail behind him where ever he walks.”  

 House Speaker Nancy Pelosi tears up State-of-the-Union speech

The following day, George Romney broke with fellow Republicans and voted to convict Trump of abuse of power.  As he himself predicted, the White House propaganda machine is leveling all sorts of insults against him.  Typical is Michael Kelleher’s asinine remark: "RINO scumbag.”  On the other hand, Jim Daubenheyer emailed: “Romney just became my second favorite Republican ever!”  I’m assuming the other was Abraham Lincoln.  Some pundits are calling the 2020 contest the most important since 1860, when Lincoln’s election precipitated Southern states seceding from the Union followed by the Civil War.  I’d compare the situation to 1932 although, unlike FDR’s landslide victory, I’m less confident in the result.  Many people I talk to are beginning to believe that only billionaire Mike Bloomberg can defeat Trump. A few timid Republicans expressed the hope that Trump would think twice before abusing his power again.  He answered by purging those brave enough to testify about his wrong-doing.  Unlike Bill Clinton, he is incapable of acting apologetic.

As always, I enjoyed partnering with Dottie Hart at bridge.  A half-century ago she lived in Gary’s Aetna neighborhood, and her four children attended Wirt High School.  Her house had been boarded up for some time, and, sadly, Wirt now sits vacant.  Several people I knew bought starter homes in Aetna when first finding work in Gary, including Post-Tribune managing editor Terry O’Rourke and Kate and Jim Migoski (a U.S. Steel computer specialist who got me to join the Electrical Engineers bowling team).  I had a 486 series bowling against Pin Short. Two frames in a row I left the 6-10 “baby” split.  After I picked it up the first time, daughter-in-law Delia’s uncles, Larry Ramirez and Eddie Lopez, clapped. Before trying for it again, I turned to them and said, “This will show if last frame was luck or not.”  After I again picked it up, their entire team cheered.  On the adjacent lane, friendly Judy Sheriff, who must be close to 90 and struggles to break 100, came over to tell me a pants cuff was inside my sock and noticed a scratch on my cheek.  “I scratched myself in my sleep; I do it every couple months, not sure why,” I told her.  “Nightmares?” she speculated.  More likely, just an itch.

Eddie Lopez, Larry Ramirez, Angel Menendez, Phil Vera at Hobart Lanes

In “When We Get to Surf City” Bob Greene mentions that the band members backing up Jan and Dean on the Oldies circuit frequently quote lines from the 1996 Tom Hanks movie “That Thing You Do,” about the Wonders, a group from Erie, Pennsylvania, playing in a 1964 Rock and Roll “Galaxy of Stars” caravan.  These include Faye lamenting “I have wasted thousands and thousands of kisses on you,” Dell saying, “Ain’t no way to keep a band together.  Bands come and go.  You got to keep on playing, no matter with who,” and Guy explaining, “It would be ungentlemanly for me to elaborate.”   When the band was performing at the Erie Seafood Festival, shortly before the set began, Greene used this line from “That Thing You Do”: “How did we get here?”  He was not being sarcastic despite the smell of dead fish and vomit wafting toward the stage.  To him it was “one more wondrous summer night.”

below Howard "Hopalong" Cassidy

Before a Jan and Dean concert taking place in Columbus, Ohio, following a minor league baseball game. Greene spotted a first base coach for the hometown Clippers, a New York Yankees affiliate, with No.40 on the back of his uniform – the same number 1955 Heisman Trophy winner Howard “Hopalong” Cassidy wore when he played for Ohio State.  Lo and behold, the coach turned out to be Cassidy himself, whom I had rooted for when he played running back for the Detroit Lions and, briefly, the Philadelphia Eagles.  A longtime friend of Yankees owner George Steinbrenner, Cassidy passed away last September at age 85.  

 

Greg Hildebrand 

Toni and I traveled to South Bend, where Mayor Pete Buttigieg, currently a Democratic Presidential frontrunner, first made a name for himself, for our annual meeting with a TIAA adviser.  Thanks to IUN’s retirement plan that first kicked in for me 50 years ago, we are wealthier now than ever before.  Lake effect snow was coming down hard when we left Chesterton, but before long the sun came out, a rare sight this past week. On wealth management adviser Greg Hildebrand’s shelf were four different colored Legos on top of one another, perhaps a gift from one of his children.

In Jean Shepherd’s “A Fistful of Fig Newtons” I was pleased to find a third chapter dealing with when the author was a kid growing up in the Region, in addition to those on the Great Ice Cream War and Camp Nobba-Wa-Wa-Nockee.  Shepherd described tactics employed by kids sitting near the back of the classroom whose last names appeared near the end of the alphabet to avoid being called on by teachers at Hammond’s Warren G. Harding School. One kid slumped down in his desk, while the author was expert at keeping another kid between him and the teacher’s line of vision.  “I blessed the beehive hairdo when it became popular,” Shepherd wrote, and added:

    Fat Helen Weathers could sweat at will, surrounding herself with a faint haze cloud so that Miss shields could never quite see her in focus, believing that Helen was just a thumb-smudge on her glasses.  Perlmutter had a thin pale beaky face that you could not remember even while you were looking at him.  No teacher ever remembered his name or whether he was even there.  He’d sit for hours without moving a muscle, as anonymous as a pale hat rack.  

    Zyncmeister, a strict Catholic, sat so far behind even us that he spent his entire school career jammed up against the cabinet in the rear of the room where worn erasers, pickled biology specimens, and moldering lunches were stored.  His defense was religion; divine intervention.  The click of his beads as they were counted kept up a steady castanet beat during Miss Shields’s distant cluckings.  It seemed to work.

In Jean Shepherd’s “A Fistful of Fig Newtons” I was pleased to find a third chapter dealing with when the author was a kid growing up in the Region, in addition to those on the Great Ice Cream War and Camp Nobba-Wa-Wa-Nockee.  Shepherd described tactics kids sitting near the back of the classroom whose last names appeared near the end of the alphabet employed to avoid being called on by teachers at Hammond’s Warren G. Harding School. One kid slumped down in his desk, while the author was expert at keeping another kid between him and the teacher’s line of vision.

After eight years the Indiana State Board of Education, which took over Gary Roosevelt High School in 2012, terminated its contract with EdisonLearning.  In an editorial titled “State owes Roosevelt a future,”The Gary Crusader wrote that the for-profit education management company based in Fort Lauderdale earned over $31 million “while Roosevelt would remain with under-achieving students, a crumbling, neglected building, and now an uncertain future,” as a state-controlled management team has recommended that the 89-year-old structure be permanently closed.  Classes have been held elsewhere for over a year.  The Crusader concluded: “We hope the state will eat some humble pie before giving its final decision.  The state owes Roosevelt a future that it promised but failed to deliver.”

I watched IUN’s Lady Redhawks bow to an 18-3 St. Xavier Crusader’s team that was undefeated in conference play.  Several of their players, including Maddie Welter (no.3), were deadly 3-point shooters able to get off their shot lightning fast. Six-foot, four-inch Redhawk Breanna Boles (no. 32) dominated inside whenever teammates got her the ball down low but seemed to prefer tossing up 3-pointers, especially after her first one went in.  I noticed former stars Nicki Monahan and Grayce Roach were now assistants to Coach Ryan Shelton.

Saturday Evening Club met at Valpo Velvet ice cream shoppe, founded in 1947 and a veritable living museum with photos lining the walls and many flavors in large tubs behind the counter. Scott Brown, whose son Mike and daughter-in-law Catherine (above) own the factory and store, spoke on the world’s super rich, who control governments, are modern-day Robber Barons, and have taken to buying up luxury properties in places such as London, New York City, and Florida, and converted them into condominium suites that often remain vacant most of the year.  President Terry Brendel signed me up to speak next September on the topic “Novelists as Social Historians.”