Old Man

“I miss my old man tonight

And I wish he was here with me.”

  Steve Goodman, “My Old Man”

 

Phil and Jimbo Father's Day, 2020

Dave and Jimbo, Finland, 2018

I spent a memorable Father’s Day at the condo with great food, a loving family, and games of Telestration (seven of us) and Space Base with sons Phil and Dave and namesake James.  In a note Dave called me his best friend and the wisest man he knows – pretty special.  As my stepfather Howie used to say, I’m a lucky man.  Several Facebook friends posted photos of their late fathers, including Linda Lawson, Hammond’s first female cop and a former legislator running for lieutenant governor, and Kay Westhues (with her dad’s friend Tom Walter), who recalled white water rafting in Colorado with her “old man.”  Roy Dominguez wrote: “My Pa was Jesus Abelardo Dominguez, his father, my paternal grandfather, Abelardo Saenz Dominguez, and my maternal grandfather Hinijio Mata were all great men who put family first.” When we were writing a book together, Roy told me that his father’s family had lived in four different countries – Spain, Mexico, the Republic of Texas, and the U.S. – without ever moving. 

 

“My old man, I know one day we'll meet again as he's looking down
My old man, I hope he's proud of who I am, I'm trying to fill the boot of my old.”

    Zac Brown Band

 

My old man, Victor Cowan Lane, died in 1966 at age 50 of a massive heart attack.  When I decided to leave Virginia Law School, despite having received a full scholarship, to attend grad school in History at the University of Hawaii, I didn’t tell him beforehand, knowing he’d try to talk me out of it; and he was very disappointed.  One of the last things he said to me, however, was that it would be good to have a doctor in the family, his way of validating my decision. Two years later, he knew Toni was pregnant (with Phil) and had bought property in the Poconos on which to build a retirement home that hopefully grandchildren would enjoy.  Alas, it was not to be.  Though we frequently had political arguments (he was a rock-ribbed Republican who idolized Ike) and competed no holds barred in ping pong and card games, he was someone whose love and support I could count on. I still miss him.


Toni’s dad Tony, whom we all called Pop, was a tool and die maker by trade who helped make molds in the manufacture of containers and boxes for companies such as Tasty Kake.  When his company moved from Philadelphia to Doylestown, PA, he commuted 90 minutes each way to provide for his family of seven.  His namesakes, Toni and grandson Philip Anthony, share endearing aspects of his personality: patience and the ability to fix things and stay calm during times of adversity.  Pop was great with kids and I always enjoyed being in his company. Here are a couple of my most cherished memories: He and I were paired in pinochle against brothers-in-law Steve and Sonny. They won three games in a row and Steve kept crowing while Sonny knew not to push his good fortune.  Sure enough, we won the next four as every bid worked perfectly. After each such hand, Tony gave me a wink and a smile.  The first time Tony and Blanche drove to see us in Indiana, Pop got off the tollway a stop late but, knowing our address was 53rd and Maryland, followed street signs from 3rd to 53rd and, realizing the streets east were named for states, found our house before dawn.  Blanche insisted they go back onto the tollway and take the correct exit.  An hour later, they pulled up at the exact same house, ours.  He never complained or rubbed it in.

 

Carter G. Woodson

In the wake of the furor over statues of Confederate generals and military bases bearing the name of rebel leaders, IU’s President McRobbie announced that the university is reviewing the names of all its buildings.  One scheduled for change is currently named for former IU president David Starr Jordon, a believer in eugenics and that “inferior” races were breeding too rapidly and might be candidates for sterilization. The intramural center previously named for segregationist trustee Ora Wildermuth has already been renamed in honor of Bill Garrett, the first African-American Big Ten basketball player.  The library in Miller was once named for Wildermuth, credited with being Gary’s first librarian, until it came out that he opposed African Americans living in Bloomington’s dorms.  For a short time it became the Wildermuth-Woodson branch, with Ora’s name paired with the “Father of Negro History.”  I loved it.  Now it is simply the Woodson branch.

The Beths

left, War on Drugs

Someone challenged me to list 5 decent songs recorded in the past 5 years, so here goes: “Pain” by The War on Drugs (which nephew Bobby and I saw at Pappy and Harriet’s in Pioneertown, California); “Missed Connection” by the Head and the Heart (Bob, Dave, and I saw The Head and the Heart there, too, at a midnight show after the Michigan Lanes and I caught them in Grand Rapids); “Future Me Hates Me” by The Beths; “Gloria” by The Lumineers; “Hey, Ma” by Bon Iver.  Also, anything by Tame Impala.

 

Daimaruya Miyuki on left

I've been trading emails with Daimaruya Miyuki, whom I met in Salt Lake City at an oral history conference.  She teaches at Yamaguchi University, located near Hiroshima, and is researching Japanese-American Nisei who fought in the Korean War. Two haikus, translated from the Japanese and courtesy of Don Coffin, fitting considering the current heat wave:

 

A huge ant crawling

Across the reed mat

Slowly, in the heat

 

Oppressive heat,

My mind in disarray,

Thunder in the distance