“Deep down in Louisiana close to New Orleans,
Way back up in the woods among the evergreens.
There stood a log cabin made of earth and wood,
Where lived a country boy name of Johnny B. Goode.
He never ever learned to read or write so well,
But he could play the guitar like ringing a bell.”
“Johnny B. Goode,” Chuck Berry
There’s a site of famous people who went by the name Johnny. If fictional characters counted, Johnny B. Goode should be on the list along with Johnny Appleseed. I’d also nominate comedian Carson, singer Cash, quarterback Unitas, and actor Depp. There’s a Famous Johnny’s Comedy Club in Kansas City and Famous Johnny’s Pizza Parlour in San Bruno, California. Ain’t the Internet great?
Toni and I saw “Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows” with Jeff Hagelberg and girlfriend Mai Mai followed by dinner at Appleby’s. We’ve known Jeff, the son of old friends Dick and Cheryl, since he was a kid. An accomplished pianist, he gave us a CD one Christmas of original compositions. Before his high school prom, Toni gave him dance lessons. She put on a Time/Life compilation of 1958 hits, including fast songs like “Johnny B. Goode” (“some day your name will be up in lights” - I still know the words by heart) and slow ballads like “Just a Dream” by Jimmy Clanton. They visited Purdue in West Lafayette in the morning and encountered traffic on the way back but joined us inside the theater just as the feature was starting. I have seen the previous installments but haven’t read J.K. Rowling’s books. I knew the main characters, including arch villain Lord Voldemort, but the plot nuances escaped me. The best I could make out, four Horcruxes (the first being as locket) need to be destroyed. The three “hallows” or sacred objects include a resurrection stone, a wand, and an invisibility cloak. The latter allows the wearer to escape Death. Cute little elf Dobby gets killed by Bellatrix Lestrange, played delightfully by Helena Bonham Carter, leaving some in the audience (but not me) teary-eyed during the maudlin burial scene. The English accents seemed more pronounced than in former episode, so much of the dialogue went over my head. Harry (Daniel Radcliffe) and Hermione (Emma Watson) have a simulated nude scene together but they seem to be wearing silver paint and no private parts are revealed.
Mai Mai is from Beijing and a grad student at Boston University who met Jeff on line. She seemed interested at Appleby’s in hearing about my history activities and 1994 visit to China. I told her about Alissa’s senior class trip and mentioned Diana Chen Lin’s book about Peking University, subtitled “Chinese Scholarship and Intellectuals, 1918-1937,” which might be a nice Christmas present for her and Jeff. Diana said she has given most of her copies away but will look for one.
At a condo board meeting we approved the budget for the upcoming year. As secretary, I had to pay attention to details about the cost of grass cutting, mulching, painting, plowing, insurance, and the like. One owner filed for bankruptcy, so no monthly dues ($175) is coming in from her. Another owner is three months behind and often pays partial amounts rather than the entire $175. I frequently got us back on subject or calling for a vote.
On the “Dancing with the Stars” finale (they can really drag things out, but, hey, it’s the top rated show on TV) Christina Aguilera sang, “Show me How You Burlesque” from her new movie with Cher. Would anyone recognize her without the tons of make-up she wears? Bristol was first eliminated and then Jennifer got the well-deserved victory over Kyle Massey. Turned to the Bulls-Lakers game and was impressed with Derrick Rose and Joakim Noah but was in bed by the time the contest ended (a 98-91 Laker win).
Darcy invited us for Thanksgiving dinner. I promised to bring cheery cobbler, an easy to make dessert using cherry pie filling, canned crushed pineapples, white cake mix and butter.
Purdue Cal student Zachary Davis wanted information about the history of the Region for his own edification and a possible film documentary. I told him about the Archives and offered to mail him “Gary’s First Hundred Years.” Who can turn down a freebie unless they suspect strings attached? Heard from Suzanna, who has been having heart trouble. She has been working hard on Christmas presents and wrote: “This year I made gifts for my daughters and grand daughters and that took quite a lot of time. I did a cross stitch for Melissa, a quilted table runner for Rebecca, crocheted scarves for Jenna and Sarah and a bonnet and scarf for Shelby, a crocheted purse for Darien and a painting for Christina and a crib blanket for Shyanne.” She apologized for not having anything exciting to report, but I cherish just being in touch with such a sweet person.
Post-Trib columnist Jeff Manes wrote a nice tribute to Lowell historian Dick Schmal, who died recently. For years Schmal (the name is the same as Chuck Gallmeier’s wife Barb) wrote a Pioneer History column, inspired by his predecessor Timothy H. Ball, who wrote the first history of Lake County. Schmal was particularly interested in places largely forgotten with the passage of time such as the ghost town of Conrad near Lake Village or Baum’s Bridge near Kouts, once used by members of hunting lodges. Cedar Lake had a local historian, Beatrice Horner, whose work was similar to Schmal’s and whose research was invaluable when I began researching the history of that remarkable community.
Mary Delp Harwood thinks Wendy had a different crown on from the one she wore in 1960. If so, maybe it is valuable, with real diamonds worth stealing. LeeLee suggested that I incorporate the coincidence that her nephew was crowned Homecoming King the night of our reunion. So here’s the lasted installment of the Mystery of the Missing Tiara”: “Before meeting with Wendy, the Captain leafed through his old yearbook looking for possible clues. Coming to the page dealing with the Homecoming Queen’s “coronation,” he studied the crown atop Wendy’s head, as she danced with boyfriend Vince. It looked different from the tiara Wendy had at the reunion. Was it possible that Wendy had purchased a new, expensive crown and that it was worth more than its mere sentimental value? The captain also arranged to have lunch with Myrna and Mary to see if he could eliminate the African Americans as suspects. Both dismissed the theory that they harbored any resentment as absurd and told him that Wendy had been very friendly at the reunion. After examining Myrna’s nametag, she exclaimed, “Myrna!,” and asked how she was doing. She recognized Mary, the lone black student in her College Prep classes, and recalled how Jimmy used to get in trouble in Latin class turning around to joke with her. The Captain also contacted Nancy, after learning from Myrna that she was compiling a CD of reunion photos, including a cell phone video showing the tiara passed to LeeLee, Christine, and Flossie, three of the most popular girls in school, as well as a fourth person the Captain didn’t recognize. It was Louise, whom classmates used to tease unmercifully after she mentioned winning a baby beauty contest. Nancy recalled seeing Louise at breakfast sitting alone near Wendy’s luggage. Could this be a clue to solving the mystery, the Captain wondered, or another dead end? Getting out his old yearbook looking for further clues, the Captain noticed that LeeLee’s maiden name was the same as the last name of a present student at Upper Dublin who had been crowned Homecoming King on the same night as the reunion dinner dance. The following night there had been a dance at the high school honoring the new queen and king. Is it possible, the Captain wondered, if the missing tiara had been given to one of the honorees as a joke?
“Wendy agreed to meet the Captain at a tavern in North Hills, the community where most of their black classmates came from and some still lived. The jukebox contained mostly recent rap hits and soul tunes but included a few old standards such as Big Mama Thornton’s original rendition of “Hound Dog.” On hand were sisters Mildred and Theresa as well as Myrna and Gloria. Behind the bar was a faded clipping from the Captain’s gridiron days at Upper Dublin, showing him in the backfield with one of the legendary Cottom brothers who later married Mildred. Wendy arrived wearing a colorful outfit that resembled an African dashiki and gave everyone at the Captain’s table big hugs. They all expressed sorrow at her loss and said they’d do anything they could to help solve the case. Pat Z made a surprise appearance and assured everyone that his practical jokester days were over. He had recently talked with Judy G, who had been on Wendy’s Homecoming Court and wanted her to know how much she admired her grit. Wendy was so overwhelmed by the warm vibes that when Chuck Berry’s “Johnny B. Goode” started playing, she got up and started dancing a jig, which soon morphed into a twist when others joined in. Pat even did an imitation of Chuck Berry’s duck walk that had everyone in stitches. The evening was complete when Wendy found “Tears of a Clown,” her favorite Motown song, on the jukebox. She was wailing away by the time Smokey Robinson got to the lines, “Just like Pagliacci did, I try to keep my surface hid.” Afterwards she stifled an impulse to brag how she saw the Leoncavallo opera about clowns, “I Pagliacci” in 1992 in Milan, Italy, on the hundredth anniversary of its original opening.”
Finished a draft of my review of Kate Buford’s biography of Jim Thorpe for Salem Press. I start out with this quote from King Gustav V at the Stockholm Olympics, 1912: “You, sir, are the greatest athlete in the world. I would consider it an honor to shake your hand.” Then I write: “Winning the pentathlon and decathlon in Sweden was the highlight of Jim Thorpe’s athletic career, and he never fully recovered from having the medals capriciously stripped from him in 1913 despite an Olympic rule stating that disqualification must occur within 30 days. His alleged transgression: having received a few dollars playing for a semi-pro baseball team, commonplace among collegiate contemporaries. Native American Son examines in depth the triumphs and tragedy befalling an enigmatic, mixed-blood Indian icon whose hero was Sac and Fox chief Black Hawk. Uncomfortable with the celebrity status thrust upon him, Thorpe was “a gentle person,” according to Buford, “intelligent and funny, with many flaws.” In this balanced, meticulous treatment by the author of Burt Lancaster: An American Life, fascinating details unfold concerning Thorpe’s three marriages and his relationship with Carlisle Indian Industrial School coach Glenn Scobey “Pop” Warner and New York Giant manager John “Little Napoleon” McGraw. Both nurtured his talents but exploited him for selfish purposes. Thorpe shined during a five-year career with the Canton Bulldogs, an original National Football League team, and was a charter inductee into the Pro Football Hall of Fame. An alcoholic in later life, Thorpe died a pauper shortly after being named the world’s greatest all-around athlete of the first half of the twentieth-century. International Olympic Committee (IOC) President Avery Brundage stubbornly rebuffed efforts to reverse the 1913 decision, saying, “Ignorance is no excuse.” Thorpe deserved better from a nation that did not recognize Native Americans as citizens until 1924 and from the Olympic movement he had helped nurture. In 1982, 29 years after his death and ten years after Brundage’s retirement, the IOC reinstated Thorpe’s awards.”
Bowled a 497, and the Engineers won five points out of seven. Our captain, Bill Batalis, filled in admirably for Robbie, and Melvin broke out of a slump and finished with a 200 game, well over his average. John Gilbert, an old softball teammate came over to wish me a Happy Thanksgiving and said he just missed an 800 series with two games in the 270s. I call him Johnny, and he calls me Paw since I’m the only person other than his father who ever called him Johnny.
Showing posts with label Darcy Wade. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Darcy Wade. Show all posts
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
Friday, November 19, 2010
Jim Thorpe
“The great Jim Thorpe was Indian pride
The athlete of the century cast aside
They took his medals right out of his hand
And buried nuclear waste on Indian land”
“Jim Thorpe’s Blues,” Terri Hendrix
Salem Press sent me a review copy of Kate Buford’s “Native American Son: The Life and Sporting Legend of Jim Thorpe.” It looks like a definitive biography. Buford describes Thorpe as “a gentle person, intelligent and funny, with many flaws” – among them, a serious drinking problem. Both a victim of prejudice and at times his own worst enemy, Thorpe was named the greatest all-around athlete of the first half of the twentieth century, easily outpolling Babe Ruth. He deserved the honor. Winner of two gold medals at the 1912 Stockholm Olympics for the pentathlon and decathlon, he was stripped of those titles by self-righteous American officials (even though the statute of limitations had run out and international Olympic officials weren’t demanding such action) because he had received money for playing on a semi-professional baseball team, something that Ivy League college players did all the time. The whole concept of amateur status was a vestige of upper class snobbery; in fact, in ancient Greece Olympic athletes competed for valuable prizes. Thorpe later played major league baseball and football. In 1983, thirty years after his death and following the retirement of President Avery Brundage (an insensitive racist who once said, “Ignorance is no excuse”), the International Olympic Committee reinstated his titles. Buford’s book dispels several myths resulting from racist stereotypes, such as that Thorpe was such a natural athlete he didn’t even train or that he refused a private meeting with the Swedish monarch and said, “Thanks, king,” at the awards ceremony. In addition to the Terry Hendrix song, Bill Reiter and Fat Back Caine also recently produced “Injun’ Jim Blues,” a tribute of sorts but told from the perspective of someone begging for money to buy wine. One line goes, “Man, I used to be the kind of guy that you hoped your son would become.”
Author Kate Buford formerly produced a book about actor Burt Lancaster, most famous for the kissing scene on the beach with Deborah Kerr in “From here to Eternity.” A flaming liberal rumored during the Red Scare to be a commie, he opposed the Vietnam War and supported antiwar candidate Eugene McCarthy in 1968. He won an Academy Award for portraying the evangelist preacher Elmer Gantry and also played a prisoner in “Birdman from Alcatraz.”
It was at the 1912 Olympics that Hawaiian swimmer Duke Kahanamoku won a Gold medal in the 100-meter sprint. Eight years later he repeated the feat at age 30. Four years later he finished second to Johnny Weismuller, who went on to play “Tarzan” in the movies. I saw Kahanamoku, also a surfing legend, shortly before he died in the mid-Sixties while living in Hawaii. A restaurant near Waikiki that bore his name was where Don Ho and the Aliis played at that time. Kahanamoku served as sheriff of Honolulu for 30 years and was treated with much more honor in his later years than Thorpe. Buford writes that in 1941 a New York City establishment, Hubert’s Museum, whose main attraction was a flea circus, paid washed up athletes Jack Johnson, Grover Cleveland Alexander, and Thorpe to greet customers and be available for autographs.
In response to my last blog posting Michelle Stokely thanked me for changing my reference to Comanche Chief Quanah Parker from “half-breed” to “mixed blood.” Jim Thorpe was also of mixed blood, approximately three-eighths Sauk and two-eighths Potawatomi. Michelle thanked me for mentioning the the article about the World War II pilots adrift at sea in “Vanity Fair,” which she included in a care package a female soldier in Afghanistan. Darcy Wade informed me that bloggers on Post-Trib reporter Jerry Davich’s site, called “Observations from the Edge,” were buzzing over his reaction to the question, is the survival of Gary vital to the health of the Region? After claiming that he had long hoped for the best for his hometown, Davich had written: “We had better hope not, because I don’t see Gary rising out of its depths any time soon.” One guy responded, “Great attitude, jerk.” Another called the city of Gary “the White elephant in the room.” Someone identifying himself as “Escape from NWI” wrote, “Gary needs NWI, NWI needs Gary. If you want all of NWI to turn into a classless, suburban strip mall, with no culture, no identity, and not a distinguishable feature, so be it. It is going to take the death of a bigoted, narrow-minded generation of people to turn Gary around.” A couple years ago Davich did a humorous column about communities’ misleading welcome signs. He suggested these realistic alternatives for Miller (“Where Property Taxes Finally Caught Up to Us”), Hobart (“Salvador Dali Did Our Zoning”), and Ogden Dunes (“We Have a Guard House and We’ll Use It If Necessary”). A blogger suggested this for South Haven: “We have Valpo addresses, Portage schools, Wheeler phone numbers, and all the vandalism you could ask for.”
A journal accepted Chris Young’s article on presidential proclamations that I helped edit for him. In the spring he is team-teaching a course on the American presidency with Nicole Anslover. Hope to sit in on it occasionally. I composed the following paragraph in the hopes of getting faculty to have their students keep journals next semester: “I have decided to reprise my “Ides of March 2003” Steel Shavings issue (volume 36) by publishing journals written in March of 2011. In addition to asking previous contributors to once again keep journals, it would make a good class assignment. Students could become published authors and contribute to the documenting of the contemporary social history of the Calumet Region by providing intimate, personal accounts of their daily lives. To gear the assignment to course themes in 2003 I had students in my History class about the 1970s make observations based in part on what they read or saw on TV shows depicting that era. Similarly, Chuck Gallmeier asked students in a Sociology class about the Family to make references to family dynamics. A course on Religion and American Culture would lend itself to ruminations on church experiences. Fine Arts majors could keep a photo journal with captions. In fact, plentiful photos would be a welcome addition to all papers. The Women’s Studies Gender and Sexuality course offers numerous possibilities. I’ll make available copies of volume 36 so that students might get some idea of how others have handled the assignment. Let me know if you think this assignment might work in one or more of your classes. Should students not want their names used, they can provide pseudonyms. I’d be happy to attend your class to explain the project and the historical value of journals. The journals should be typed, in Microsoft Word if possible, to make editing easier.”
Steve McShane, who will have his Indiana History students keep journals, recently put a display about Latinos in Northwest Indiana in the Library/Conference Center lobby. Among other things, it includes a facsimile of the “Maria’s Journey” book cover, an Arredondo family picture, photos of Mexican Americans coerced into getting on a repatriation train during the Hoover years of the depression, a photo of Lake County Sheriff Roy Dominguez with Hillary Clinton, and Seventies flyers from Latino protest groups. Steve mentioned that John Davies thought I’d make a good speaker at Vivian Carter’s Wall of Fame induction, but I suggested they get an African American instead or maybe Tom Higgins, who worked at WWCA when she had her radio program.
Wendy likes the idea of the tiara mystery story, and both she and LeeLee contributed to this paragraph: “Wendy was uncertain when the tiara disappeared. Saturday morning before riding to the airport she attended the reunion breakfast in the lobby of the Hilton Gardens, leaving suitcases near the front door. When her town car arrived, the driver waited patiently as Wendy said her final good-byes. He then took care of her baggage all the way to airport check-in. Back home, her regular limousine driver secured them from baggage claim. It was only when she went through her suitcases the next day did she realize the tiara was missing. She was certain that she had put it in her Louis Vuitton French bag, a gift from a dear friend. She had intended to carry it on the plane, but with a shopping bag full of presents for her grandkids and a purse bursting with reunion souvenirs, the expensive bag was out of her sight for a few hours. The airline representative may have assumed that it contained valuables and, if criminally inclined, could have alerted a partner. But who would take the tiara when much more valuable items were among the belongings, including the bag itself, worth at least a thousand dollars? Or had someone back at the Hilton Gardens already snatched the tiara, a jealous classmate of Wendy’s, perhaps? That was what she wanted Captain Cardinal to find out.”
I enjoyed “Morning Glory” despite finding the plot about a young producer saving a network rival of “Today” and “Good Morning America” to be rather unrealistic. Rachel McAdams, splendidly daffy in “Wedding Crashers” and “Sherlock Holmes,” played a bright workaholic. Harrison Ford was a hoot as the reluctant veteran newsman whom she recruits to be co-anchor with always-worth-watching Diane Keaton, who calls her “Gidget” and raps with 50 Cent and DJ Whoo Kid on “Candy Shop” (“I’ll take you to the candy shop. I’ll let you lick the lollipop”) a true highlight. One verse goes, “I melt in your mouth girl, not in your hands, ha ha.”
Among the flurry of emails regarding condo business was a call for a board meeting. I was able to get the day changed from Wednesday to Tuesday, so I can still bowl. Leo Rondo is hosting it, and I’ll be taking notes as secretary for the first time.
The athlete of the century cast aside
They took his medals right out of his hand
And buried nuclear waste on Indian land”
“Jim Thorpe’s Blues,” Terri Hendrix
Salem Press sent me a review copy of Kate Buford’s “Native American Son: The Life and Sporting Legend of Jim Thorpe.” It looks like a definitive biography. Buford describes Thorpe as “a gentle person, intelligent and funny, with many flaws” – among them, a serious drinking problem. Both a victim of prejudice and at times his own worst enemy, Thorpe was named the greatest all-around athlete of the first half of the twentieth century, easily outpolling Babe Ruth. He deserved the honor. Winner of two gold medals at the 1912 Stockholm Olympics for the pentathlon and decathlon, he was stripped of those titles by self-righteous American officials (even though the statute of limitations had run out and international Olympic officials weren’t demanding such action) because he had received money for playing on a semi-professional baseball team, something that Ivy League college players did all the time. The whole concept of amateur status was a vestige of upper class snobbery; in fact, in ancient Greece Olympic athletes competed for valuable prizes. Thorpe later played major league baseball and football. In 1983, thirty years after his death and following the retirement of President Avery Brundage (an insensitive racist who once said, “Ignorance is no excuse”), the International Olympic Committee reinstated his titles. Buford’s book dispels several myths resulting from racist stereotypes, such as that Thorpe was such a natural athlete he didn’t even train or that he refused a private meeting with the Swedish monarch and said, “Thanks, king,” at the awards ceremony. In addition to the Terry Hendrix song, Bill Reiter and Fat Back Caine also recently produced “Injun’ Jim Blues,” a tribute of sorts but told from the perspective of someone begging for money to buy wine. One line goes, “Man, I used to be the kind of guy that you hoped your son would become.”
Author Kate Buford formerly produced a book about actor Burt Lancaster, most famous for the kissing scene on the beach with Deborah Kerr in “From here to Eternity.” A flaming liberal rumored during the Red Scare to be a commie, he opposed the Vietnam War and supported antiwar candidate Eugene McCarthy in 1968. He won an Academy Award for portraying the evangelist preacher Elmer Gantry and also played a prisoner in “Birdman from Alcatraz.”
It was at the 1912 Olympics that Hawaiian swimmer Duke Kahanamoku won a Gold medal in the 100-meter sprint. Eight years later he repeated the feat at age 30. Four years later he finished second to Johnny Weismuller, who went on to play “Tarzan” in the movies. I saw Kahanamoku, also a surfing legend, shortly before he died in the mid-Sixties while living in Hawaii. A restaurant near Waikiki that bore his name was where Don Ho and the Aliis played at that time. Kahanamoku served as sheriff of Honolulu for 30 years and was treated with much more honor in his later years than Thorpe. Buford writes that in 1941 a New York City establishment, Hubert’s Museum, whose main attraction was a flea circus, paid washed up athletes Jack Johnson, Grover Cleveland Alexander, and Thorpe to greet customers and be available for autographs.
In response to my last blog posting Michelle Stokely thanked me for changing my reference to Comanche Chief Quanah Parker from “half-breed” to “mixed blood.” Jim Thorpe was also of mixed blood, approximately three-eighths Sauk and two-eighths Potawatomi. Michelle thanked me for mentioning the the article about the World War II pilots adrift at sea in “Vanity Fair,” which she included in a care package a female soldier in Afghanistan. Darcy Wade informed me that bloggers on Post-Trib reporter Jerry Davich’s site, called “Observations from the Edge,” were buzzing over his reaction to the question, is the survival of Gary vital to the health of the Region? After claiming that he had long hoped for the best for his hometown, Davich had written: “We had better hope not, because I don’t see Gary rising out of its depths any time soon.” One guy responded, “Great attitude, jerk.” Another called the city of Gary “the White elephant in the room.” Someone identifying himself as “Escape from NWI” wrote, “Gary needs NWI, NWI needs Gary. If you want all of NWI to turn into a classless, suburban strip mall, with no culture, no identity, and not a distinguishable feature, so be it. It is going to take the death of a bigoted, narrow-minded generation of people to turn Gary around.” A couple years ago Davich did a humorous column about communities’ misleading welcome signs. He suggested these realistic alternatives for Miller (“Where Property Taxes Finally Caught Up to Us”), Hobart (“Salvador Dali Did Our Zoning”), and Ogden Dunes (“We Have a Guard House and We’ll Use It If Necessary”). A blogger suggested this for South Haven: “We have Valpo addresses, Portage schools, Wheeler phone numbers, and all the vandalism you could ask for.”
A journal accepted Chris Young’s article on presidential proclamations that I helped edit for him. In the spring he is team-teaching a course on the American presidency with Nicole Anslover. Hope to sit in on it occasionally. I composed the following paragraph in the hopes of getting faculty to have their students keep journals next semester: “I have decided to reprise my “Ides of March 2003” Steel Shavings issue (volume 36) by publishing journals written in March of 2011. In addition to asking previous contributors to once again keep journals, it would make a good class assignment. Students could become published authors and contribute to the documenting of the contemporary social history of the Calumet Region by providing intimate, personal accounts of their daily lives. To gear the assignment to course themes in 2003 I had students in my History class about the 1970s make observations based in part on what they read or saw on TV shows depicting that era. Similarly, Chuck Gallmeier asked students in a Sociology class about the Family to make references to family dynamics. A course on Religion and American Culture would lend itself to ruminations on church experiences. Fine Arts majors could keep a photo journal with captions. In fact, plentiful photos would be a welcome addition to all papers. The Women’s Studies Gender and Sexuality course offers numerous possibilities. I’ll make available copies of volume 36 so that students might get some idea of how others have handled the assignment. Let me know if you think this assignment might work in one or more of your classes. Should students not want their names used, they can provide pseudonyms. I’d be happy to attend your class to explain the project and the historical value of journals. The journals should be typed, in Microsoft Word if possible, to make editing easier.”
Steve McShane, who will have his Indiana History students keep journals, recently put a display about Latinos in Northwest Indiana in the Library/Conference Center lobby. Among other things, it includes a facsimile of the “Maria’s Journey” book cover, an Arredondo family picture, photos of Mexican Americans coerced into getting on a repatriation train during the Hoover years of the depression, a photo of Lake County Sheriff Roy Dominguez with Hillary Clinton, and Seventies flyers from Latino protest groups. Steve mentioned that John Davies thought I’d make a good speaker at Vivian Carter’s Wall of Fame induction, but I suggested they get an African American instead or maybe Tom Higgins, who worked at WWCA when she had her radio program.
Wendy likes the idea of the tiara mystery story, and both she and LeeLee contributed to this paragraph: “Wendy was uncertain when the tiara disappeared. Saturday morning before riding to the airport she attended the reunion breakfast in the lobby of the Hilton Gardens, leaving suitcases near the front door. When her town car arrived, the driver waited patiently as Wendy said her final good-byes. He then took care of her baggage all the way to airport check-in. Back home, her regular limousine driver secured them from baggage claim. It was only when she went through her suitcases the next day did she realize the tiara was missing. She was certain that she had put it in her Louis Vuitton French bag, a gift from a dear friend. She had intended to carry it on the plane, but with a shopping bag full of presents for her grandkids and a purse bursting with reunion souvenirs, the expensive bag was out of her sight for a few hours. The airline representative may have assumed that it contained valuables and, if criminally inclined, could have alerted a partner. But who would take the tiara when much more valuable items were among the belongings, including the bag itself, worth at least a thousand dollars? Or had someone back at the Hilton Gardens already snatched the tiara, a jealous classmate of Wendy’s, perhaps? That was what she wanted Captain Cardinal to find out.”
I enjoyed “Morning Glory” despite finding the plot about a young producer saving a network rival of “Today” and “Good Morning America” to be rather unrealistic. Rachel McAdams, splendidly daffy in “Wedding Crashers” and “Sherlock Holmes,” played a bright workaholic. Harrison Ford was a hoot as the reluctant veteran newsman whom she recruits to be co-anchor with always-worth-watching Diane Keaton, who calls her “Gidget” and raps with 50 Cent and DJ Whoo Kid on “Candy Shop” (“I’ll take you to the candy shop. I’ll let you lick the lollipop”) a true highlight. One verse goes, “I melt in your mouth girl, not in your hands, ha ha.”
Among the flurry of emails regarding condo business was a call for a board meeting. I was able to get the day changed from Wednesday to Tuesday, so I can still bowl. Leo Rondo is hosting it, and I’ll be taking notes as secretary for the first time.
Monday, September 27, 2010
Chesterton
“We’re half way there
Livin’ on a prayer”
Bon Jovi
There’s a wedding reception scene in Richard Russo’s “That Old Cape Magic” where the guests are dancing to Bon Jovi’s “Livin’ on a Prayer” and belting out the chorus. The song is about an out-of-work laborer and waitress girlfriend who supports him. One line goes, “You live for the fight when it’s all that you’ve got.” Like Jackson Browne’s “Running On Empty,” “Livin’ on a Prayer” captures the fragility of life during an age of stagnation. It was St. Therese of Lisieux who said, “More tears are shed over answered prayers than unanswered ones.” Bon Jovi was huge in Turkey when I was there ten years ago. Griffin, the main character in Russo’s novel, is a teacher/screenwriter in his fifties whose marriage is unraveling. On the dance floor he realizes he is getting old and wishes he were only half way there. He says “I’ve been hurtin’” instead of ibuprofen” and meets an old lady whose salty vocabulary includes “rat bastard” and “fart hammer.” Russo invents great minor characters including a fun-loving English lesbian couple and moronic twin brothers-in-law Jason and Jared (all the siblings' names begin with “J,” causing Griffin to nickname father-in-law Harve, who called his wife Jilly-Billy, “Jarve”).
We are gradually getting to know Chesterton, similar to easing into Portage after we moved to Maple Place. The old downtown has a certain charm. It started to develop after the Lake Shore and Michigan Railroad came through the area in the 1850s. First called Coffee Creek and then Calumet, the name was changed after the Civil War to avoid confusion with Calumet, Illinois. There’s a Peggy Sue’s diner and an old-fashioned drive-in restaurant called The Port. We skipped the Oz Fest festival last weekend but plan to subscribe to the Chesterton Tribune, which has been in existence since 1884, comes out five days a week, and whose editor David Canright was active in the Bailly Alliance and is a kindred spirit politically. The intersection of 49 and Indian Boundary is much easier to get through than it first appeared, and we’ve run into people we know at the Sunrise restaurant up the street, such as Richard Whitman, who taught at IU Northwest and dated a good friend of ours back in the Seventies before taking a job with the U.S. Geological Survey.
The temperature had dropped 30 degrees from the day before, and it felt like autumn. Toni and I shopped at Chesterton’s European market, where we have gone for bread several times in the past but not this year despite being so much closer to it (we’ve been so busy). Our friend Mario and his family had a booth, and we purchased four huge burritos to serve when the Hagelbergs came over for bridge for just $22. We split one for lunch, and it was delicious. Our neighbor Tom recommended some pastries, and we bought four for dessert. I was the big winner at cards for the second time in a row.
A shot of lovable lefthanded slugger Jim Thome graces Sports Illustrated similar to the initial 1954 cover of Eddie Mathews. Thome broke in with Cleveland and played for the Phillies and White Sox before Minnesota gobbled him up for next to nothing at the beginning of the season after Chicago to their folly was uninterested in re-signing him. He has hit 589 career homeruns, including 25 this year, and his slugging percentage is among the best in the American League.
Jeff Manes’s Sunday column was about Archives volunteer Maurice Yancy, a 71 year-old bachelor and according to the headline the headline a “world traveler [who] feels at home in NWI.” The ninth of ten children, Maurice put together a family genealogical booklet and often provides useful information to scholars researching Gary. Legendary teacher Frankie McCullough helped him overcome his stuttering condition, telling the 11 year-old that the problem was not that he was stupid but that his brain was working faster than his lips. Within a year he had stopped stuttering. Manes used this quote by former Supreme Court justice Thurgood Marshall: “None of us got where we are solely by pulling ourselves up by our bootstraps. We got here because somebody – a parent, a teacher, an Ivy League crony or a few nuns – bent down and helped us pick up our boots.” Maurice claims he is not bitter about the past but gets frustrated when young blacks complain that the white man is keeping them down. He told Jeff, “That’s part of losing the battle. If you believe it’s like that, it’s like that. I’ve never believed that it’s like that.” Maurice should be happy with the article and handsome photo of him.
Went zero for four in gaming, edged out in Amun Re and St. Pete by a single point, but won my Fantasy match against previously undefeated grandson Anthony despite having the second lowest score among the eight teams. Thank heaven for Eagles wide receiver DeSean Jackson, primary target for surprise sensation Michael Vick. My running backs and other wide receiver (Marques Colston) sucked and tight end Visanthe Shiancoe got injured in the first half. Unfortunately for Anthony, Steven Jackson left the game in the second quarter and Shonn Greene of the Jets only rushed for 36 yards. The Jets defense, normally the best around, only got him six points. Alone in first place at 3-0 is Pittsburgh Dave’s girlfriend Kira Shifflett; the rest of us wonder how much she depends on David in her decision-making. NBC’s evening game was in Miami, and Marc Anthony and Fergie sang the national Anthem.
In the news: with search warrants in hand an FBI SWAT team raided antiwar groups in Chicago and Minneapolis claiming to be looking for evidence linking them to terrorist activity. Sounds like a flimsy story to me, a way of harassing those opposed to the Afghanistan fiasco. Bob Woodward new book "Obama’s Wars" clearly shows that the President chose to compromise with his generals by insisting on an exit strategy rather than break with them. Shades of JFK and LBJ in Vietnam. Arab American Action Network attorney Jim Fennerty told reporters, “The government is trying to quiet activists. This case is really scary.” Members of The Committee Against Political Repression are protesting in front of the FBI’s Chicago headquarters.
A crew from HORSES landscapers put in a window well plus some dirt and grass seed in back of the condo. Darcy Wade called with an offer to give us some of her famous potato salad, leftovers from a neighborhood party. We picked it up on the way to ACE Hardware for dirt and a shovel in which to transplant hostas. The guy who waited on me asked if I would be watching the big game that night. “Yes, go Bears,” I replied. They beat the Packers to remain only one of three unbeaten NFL teams. The others, equally surprising, are Kansas City and Pittsburgh (without QB Ben Roethlisberger, suspended for violating the league’s personal conduct policy after allegedly accosting a 20 year-old coed in a Georgia bar).
Livin’ on a prayer”
Bon Jovi
There’s a wedding reception scene in Richard Russo’s “That Old Cape Magic” where the guests are dancing to Bon Jovi’s “Livin’ on a Prayer” and belting out the chorus. The song is about an out-of-work laborer and waitress girlfriend who supports him. One line goes, “You live for the fight when it’s all that you’ve got.” Like Jackson Browne’s “Running On Empty,” “Livin’ on a Prayer” captures the fragility of life during an age of stagnation. It was St. Therese of Lisieux who said, “More tears are shed over answered prayers than unanswered ones.” Bon Jovi was huge in Turkey when I was there ten years ago. Griffin, the main character in Russo’s novel, is a teacher/screenwriter in his fifties whose marriage is unraveling. On the dance floor he realizes he is getting old and wishes he were only half way there. He says “I’ve been hurtin’” instead of ibuprofen” and meets an old lady whose salty vocabulary includes “rat bastard” and “fart hammer.” Russo invents great minor characters including a fun-loving English lesbian couple and moronic twin brothers-in-law Jason and Jared (all the siblings' names begin with “J,” causing Griffin to nickname father-in-law Harve, who called his wife Jilly-Billy, “Jarve”).
We are gradually getting to know Chesterton, similar to easing into Portage after we moved to Maple Place. The old downtown has a certain charm. It started to develop after the Lake Shore and Michigan Railroad came through the area in the 1850s. First called Coffee Creek and then Calumet, the name was changed after the Civil War to avoid confusion with Calumet, Illinois. There’s a Peggy Sue’s diner and an old-fashioned drive-in restaurant called The Port. We skipped the Oz Fest festival last weekend but plan to subscribe to the Chesterton Tribune, which has been in existence since 1884, comes out five days a week, and whose editor David Canright was active in the Bailly Alliance and is a kindred spirit politically. The intersection of 49 and Indian Boundary is much easier to get through than it first appeared, and we’ve run into people we know at the Sunrise restaurant up the street, such as Richard Whitman, who taught at IU Northwest and dated a good friend of ours back in the Seventies before taking a job with the U.S. Geological Survey.
The temperature had dropped 30 degrees from the day before, and it felt like autumn. Toni and I shopped at Chesterton’s European market, where we have gone for bread several times in the past but not this year despite being so much closer to it (we’ve been so busy). Our friend Mario and his family had a booth, and we purchased four huge burritos to serve when the Hagelbergs came over for bridge for just $22. We split one for lunch, and it was delicious. Our neighbor Tom recommended some pastries, and we bought four for dessert. I was the big winner at cards for the second time in a row.
A shot of lovable lefthanded slugger Jim Thome graces Sports Illustrated similar to the initial 1954 cover of Eddie Mathews. Thome broke in with Cleveland and played for the Phillies and White Sox before Minnesota gobbled him up for next to nothing at the beginning of the season after Chicago to their folly was uninterested in re-signing him. He has hit 589 career homeruns, including 25 this year, and his slugging percentage is among the best in the American League.
Jeff Manes’s Sunday column was about Archives volunteer Maurice Yancy, a 71 year-old bachelor and according to the headline the headline a “world traveler [who] feels at home in NWI.” The ninth of ten children, Maurice put together a family genealogical booklet and often provides useful information to scholars researching Gary. Legendary teacher Frankie McCullough helped him overcome his stuttering condition, telling the 11 year-old that the problem was not that he was stupid but that his brain was working faster than his lips. Within a year he had stopped stuttering. Manes used this quote by former Supreme Court justice Thurgood Marshall: “None of us got where we are solely by pulling ourselves up by our bootstraps. We got here because somebody – a parent, a teacher, an Ivy League crony or a few nuns – bent down and helped us pick up our boots.” Maurice claims he is not bitter about the past but gets frustrated when young blacks complain that the white man is keeping them down. He told Jeff, “That’s part of losing the battle. If you believe it’s like that, it’s like that. I’ve never believed that it’s like that.” Maurice should be happy with the article and handsome photo of him.
Went zero for four in gaming, edged out in Amun Re and St. Pete by a single point, but won my Fantasy match against previously undefeated grandson Anthony despite having the second lowest score among the eight teams. Thank heaven for Eagles wide receiver DeSean Jackson, primary target for surprise sensation Michael Vick. My running backs and other wide receiver (Marques Colston) sucked and tight end Visanthe Shiancoe got injured in the first half. Unfortunately for Anthony, Steven Jackson left the game in the second quarter and Shonn Greene of the Jets only rushed for 36 yards. The Jets defense, normally the best around, only got him six points. Alone in first place at 3-0 is Pittsburgh Dave’s girlfriend Kira Shifflett; the rest of us wonder how much she depends on David in her decision-making. NBC’s evening game was in Miami, and Marc Anthony and Fergie sang the national Anthem.
In the news: with search warrants in hand an FBI SWAT team raided antiwar groups in Chicago and Minneapolis claiming to be looking for evidence linking them to terrorist activity. Sounds like a flimsy story to me, a way of harassing those opposed to the Afghanistan fiasco. Bob Woodward new book "Obama’s Wars" clearly shows that the President chose to compromise with his generals by insisting on an exit strategy rather than break with them. Shades of JFK and LBJ in Vietnam. Arab American Action Network attorney Jim Fennerty told reporters, “The government is trying to quiet activists. This case is really scary.” Members of The Committee Against Political Repression are protesting in front of the FBI’s Chicago headquarters.
A crew from HORSES landscapers put in a window well plus some dirt and grass seed in back of the condo. Darcy Wade called with an offer to give us some of her famous potato salad, leftovers from a neighborhood party. We picked it up on the way to ACE Hardware for dirt and a shovel in which to transplant hostas. The guy who waited on me asked if I would be watching the big game that night. “Yes, go Bears,” I replied. They beat the Packers to remain only one of three unbeaten NFL teams. The others, equally surprising, are Kansas City and Pittsburgh (without QB Ben Roethlisberger, suspended for violating the league’s personal conduct policy after allegedly accosting a 20 year-old coed in a Georgia bar).
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