Visionaries

“Once meek, and in a perilous path

The just man kept his course along

The vale of death.”

    William Blake, quoted in “Drive Your Plow over the Bones of the Dead”

Olga Takarczuk

There could only be one reason why I’d be reading an English translation of Polish novelist Olga Tokarczuk’s depressing-sounding detective story “Drive Your Plow over the Bones of the Dead” – on the recommendation of good friend Gaard Logan, whose judgment has never led me astray.  Winner of the Nobel Prize for Literature, Tokarczuk tells the story through the eyes of an eccentric elderly woman.  Following an introductory quotation by William Blake (above), this is how “Drive Your Plow over the Bones of the Dead” begins:

    I am already at an age and additionally in a state where I must always wash my feet thoroughly before bed, in the event of having to be removed by an ambulance in the Night.

Romantic poet and artist William Blake (1757-1827) was a true original who many contemporaries thought mad.  A Christian who despised organized religion, a devout husband who believed in free love, a visionary anarchist, as biographer Peter Marshall called him, who claimed to have experienced visions, Blake left posterity many provocative proclamations, such as “The road to excess leads to the palace of wisdom” and “Each man must create his own system or else he is a slave to another man.”  One found I in “Drive Your Plow over the Bones of the Dead” is “Prisons are built with stones of Law, brothels with the bricks of religion.”

Dave, James, and I watched my grandson’s former team bowl at Inman’s.  On the way I dropped off the new Steel Shavings at Fred and Diane Chary’s.  We talked about recent developments at IU Northwest, including both archivist Steve McShane and Chancellor Bill Lowe retiring at the end of June.  I told Fred that Lowe was teaching a seminar on Irish history and plans to join the History department after a year’s leave of absence.  At Inman’s Kaiden Horn rolled a 267, just one frame from a perfect game, leaving a ten-pin in the fifth.  His Uncle Tom asked me to pull the winning raffle ticket from a bowl.  Sharon Fisher, who used to bowl in my Hobart Lanes league, greeted me warmly.  Her grandkids Otto and Kaylee were competing against James’s old team.  They both wrestle in middle school.  Kaylee recently defeated a favored Crown Point grappler, and the guy refused to shake her hand as customary and tossed his protective gear across the room.  His coach should have publicly chastised him.  For lunch we stopped at Culver’s, like old times.

 SpongeBob SquarePants

Sunday, Maryland defeated Michigan for a share of the Big Ten title, and seventh seed Valpo bowed to Bradley in the Missouri Valley conference final - the Crusaders’ fourth game and four days; they held their own until the final minutes.  Toni served scallops, pan fried noodles, asparagus, and salad to six of us, including Dave’s family.  Afterwards, we played Telestrations.  Angie guessed that my drawing of SpongeBob SquarePants was a hunk of swiss cheese. My flamingo and snail were equally dismal.  I did nail big toe though, and Russia.  Mercifully, there are no winners nor losers, as the game is played for laughs, of which I provided plenty. James isin the midst of a two-week semester break – that’s why Liz Wuerffel and Allison Schuette are still galivanted through the Southwest.

Al and Liz at Plaza Blanca north of Santa Fe; on the climb Liz said she was only really scared once

Despite the Coronavirus scare, my Art in Focus talk in Munster on Rock and Roll Music, 1960 drew an overflow crowd, including bridge buddy Mary Kocevar and old friends Gloria Biondi, Vickie Voller, Patricia Gonzales, and Jan Trusty. Director Micah Bornstein always begins with a personal anecdote, this time regarding home repair. When he was a kid, he said, his father was fixing an electric socket and told him to stand nearby with a broom and hit with it to disconnect him with what he was holding in case he got an electric shock. Vic fancied himself a handyman and often would send down to his basement work bench for a tool. Without fail, I’d bring the wrong one.

The crowd got into it as I played two dozen songs mingled with commentary.  I saw folks mouthing the words to numerous songs.  I never used to notice audience reaction but got several big laughs, including the reply by Gary U.S. Bonds to rumors that lascivious words could be heard on the recording “Quarter to Three”: “My mother was at that session!”  Maybe she was the culprit, I suggested. Director Micah Bornstein had the 24 songs all cued on YouTube up in advance without the normal 5-10-second ads.  Positioned near me, he cut them off when I gave the signal.  Some I played all the way through, such as “Let’s Go Let’s Go Let’s Go” by Hank Ballard and the Midnighters, “Walkin’ to New Orleans” by Fats Domino, “Running Scared” by Roy Orbison, and “Stay” by Maurice Williams and the Zodiacs.  

This paragraph got a big reaction:

    Appearing atop the hit parade in the winter of 1959-1960 were such vapid songs as “Venus” by Frankie Avalon, “Lonely Boy” by Paul Anka, “Come Softly to Me” by The Fleetwoods, theme from “A Summer Place” by the Percy Faith Orchestra, “Tall Paul” by Annette Funicello, a “Mickey Mouse Club” graduate, and “Cherry Pie,” the one big hit for Skip and Flip, which was catchy but more pop than Rock and Roll.  Many thought the innocent-sounding “Cherry Pie” lyrics had double meanings of a sexual nature (i.e., “singing in the living room, swinging in the kitchen, Swingin’ in there because she wanted to feed me, so I mixed up the batter and she licked the beater, she’s my cherry pie, tastes so good, makes a grown man cry”). 

Born in New Orleans in 1928, Rock and Roll pioneer Antoine “Fats” Domino began to play the piano and sing in Bourbon Street bars while still unable to buy a drink legally.  He had several Rhythm and Blues hits, including “The Fat Man” (1950)  before soaring to the top of the Billboard Pop charts with “Ain’t That a Shame” in 1956.  He followed with soulful versions of the old standards “My Blue Heaven” and “Blueberry Hill.” In 1960 “Walking to New Orleans” and “My Girl Josephine” were huge hits. I noted:

     In high school I had all his records I could get my hands onto and came across some rare Oldies at a Montgomeryville PA flea market. When Fats Domino performed on the road, he’d take his band with him unlike many Rock and Roll stars.  It featured Dave Bartholomew who co-wrote many of his songs and several saxophonists, a drummer, and a bassist.  Region promoter Henry Farag, who booked them into the Star Plaza in Merrillville, told me that Fats would also take soul food in and cook meals for the band (and Henry). 

At Merrillville’s Star Plaza a quarter-century ago, Freddy “Boom Boom” Cannon was urging without much luck his audience of mostly seniors to get up and dance. From Revere, Massachusetts, Cannon (real name Frederick Picariello) grew up idolizing Chuck Berry, Bo Diddley, and Little Richard.  His first hit was “Tallahassee Lassie” followed in 1960 by “Way Down Yonder in New Orleans.” Recording on Swan Records , a label Dick Clark had a financial interest in, he appeared on American Bandstand a record 110 times.  One admirer wrote: “Freddy ‘Boom Boom’ Cannon was a true believer, a rocker to the bone.  Freddy Cannon made great noisy rock and roll records infused with a giant drum beat that was an automatic invitation to shake it on down anyplace there was a spot to dance.”  His biggest hit was “Palisades Park” (1962). Lesser known Freddy Cannon songs include “Transister Sister” and “Abigail Beecher (She’s Our History teacher)”. Lyrics went:

All the kids are just crazy about her
Central High would be a drag without her
She knows her history from A to Z
She'd teach a monkey the WatusiWhoa, it's Abigail Beecher Our history teacher, Whoa

“Prince of Soul” Sam Cooke started out as a child with a Chicago gospel group, the Highway QCs, and at age 20 joined the Soul Stirrers.  At live concerts young Sam Cooke stirred young female admirers in ways that had nothing to do with religion and everything to do with his sex appeal.  As a solo artist, between 1957 and 1964 Sam Cooke had a 30 U.S. top 40 hits that included “You Send Me,” “Cupid,” “Wonderful World,” “Chain Gang” (in 1960), and many more.  After playing “Chain gang” I noted that after Reconstruction many Southern states forced black men arrested on false or trivial charges to labor on chain gangs where life expectancy was less than two years. The hits kept coming for Cooke until he was fatally shot at age 33 under suspicious circumstances by the manager of a motel where he had taken a young woman with a shady past whom the hotel manager may have been in cahoots with.  Cooke’s song “A Change Is Gonna Come” would become one of the anthems of the civil rights movement.

The 1960 Billboard Top 40 charts also included crooners such as Johnny Mathis, folk singers such as Harry Belafonte, the Highwaymen, and the Kingston Trio, and instrumentals by the Ventures, Duane Eddy, and Floyd Kramer (“Raunchy” by Sun Records saxophonist Bill Justis, was banned from some radio stations even though it contained no words).  Country artists who crossed over into Rock and Roll, included Brenda Lee, Charlie Rich, and the Everly Brothers (“Bird Dog,” “Wake Up Little Susie”), whose 1960 hits included “Cathy’s Clown” and “When Will I Be Loved?”   At Ravinia we and the Hagelbergs saw the Everly Brothers open for the Beach Boys, whom they very much influenced.  Although rumor was that Don and Phil Everly couldn’t stand one another, they made beautiful harmonies and sang songs that spoke to teenagers. 1960 pop music, unlike today, embodied many different genres.  Young people were exposed to all types of music, including novelty songs like “Along Came Jones” by the Coasters and “Alley Oop” by the Hollywood Argyles, whose lyrics are still in the head of many aging rockers: “He got a chauffeur that’s a genuine dinosaur, And he can knuckle your head before you count to four.”  After playing “Alley Oop” but cutting it short to a few groans, I mentioned that after playing rock and roll hits in the Fifties college class, the only similar reaction I got cutting them short was “The Chipmunk Song” by Alvin and the Chipmunks.  Go figure.

Ending with “The Twist, to which I danced with Gloria, Vickie, her husband Dan, and a woman named Isabel (“Izzie,” she confided), I noted:

    Although Hank Ballard’s version of “The Twist” failed to become a hit, young people began dancing versions of the twist, often solo rather than connected to a partner.  Quick to notice the new trend, Dick Clark convinced Cameo Records to record “The Twist” by an ex-chicken plucker named Ernest Evans, whom Clark renamed Chubby Checker (a takeoff on the name Fats Domino).  It sounded so like the original that when Hank Ballard first heard it, he thought it was his.  

    In “Soul on Ice” black militant Eldridge Cleaver wrote: “It was Chubby Checker’s mission, bearing “The Twist” as good news. To teach the whites, whom history had taught to forget, how to shake their asses again.”

    “The Twist” became the most influential song of 1960, shaking rock and roll from its doldrums. During the next few years, one critic wrote, “the music would revitalize itself with dance crazes, surf and girl-group records, the British invasion, and soul music.  The old sounds were changing, but Rock and Roll appeared stronger than ever.”

At Bucknell when  bussing dishes at Women’s Cafeteria after meals, the women would put on a Bob Dylan album and guys would replace it with Chubby Checker.  The record player battle was played out on many occasions. 

 

I received a hearty round of applause, and Art in Focus director Micah Bornstein invited me to return next year.  Afterwards, East Chicago Washington Class of 1960 graduate Barbara Whittaker, a cheerleader for the state champion basketball team, asked if I could speak at her sixtieth reunion and Vickie wants me to reprise the talk to her Tri Kappa group. We’ll see. John Cain, one of more than a half-dozen men in the audience (a rarity) invited me to lunch.

In Memoriam

“Police opened fire on a parade of striking steel workers and their families at the gate of the Republic Steel Company, in South Chicago. Fifty people were shot, of whom 10 later died; 100 others were beaten with clubs.”  Dorothy Day

police go on rampage during 1937 Memorial Day Massacre

I mourn for all the soldiers who lost their lives protecting America’s freedoms, Paul Curry, who died of the coast of Vietnam, and all the labor militants who sacrificed to help gain a living wage and safety protections for their comrades.  As is his annual tradition, former rank-and-file union stalwart Mike Olszanski reminded Facebook friends of the 1937 Memorial Day Massacre at Republic Steel.  He wrote: “SWOC, Lodge 1010 lost four members at the Memorial Day Massacre: Alfred Causey, Earl Handley, Kenneth Reed, and Sam Popovich. John Sargent, several times president of Local 1010, was there and survived to tell us about it.”  

I received this inquiry from Margaret Ford: 

My paternal grandfather, Joseph Zolondz, was killed at U. S. Steel in Gary in the early 1940’s when a tornado blew in and severely damaged a smokestack (chimney).In all there were four men killed that day. My mother told me the story. She said she knew my dad and his  family, but they were not married at the time. One of my brothers saw the plaque at the steel company with the men’s names on it, but I am unable to find a story on it. My grandfather and the family lived in New Chicago, Indiana at the time, and my dad had seven siblings. How do I go about finding information about my grandfather’s death? I live in Granger, IN, but have siblings still in the region. Any help would be appreciated.

I responded: “I don't know about the incident to which you refer, but you might contact Steelworkers Local 1010 (Gary Works) or 1066 (Gary Sheet and Tin) depending on where he worked.  Also Marc Chase of the NWI Times  may know something or inquire in a column if anybody recalls it.  Let me know if you find out anything.”

 Danica Patrick crash; below, Jerry Trump

Danica Patrick, participating in her final Indianapolis 500, crashed into the wall on Turn 2 of Lap 68.  In the stands, Packers QB Aaron Rogers watched.  Post-Tribcolumnist Jerry Davich wrote about 80-year-old Crown Point resident Jerry Trump, who attended “The Race” for the 70^thstraight time.  When his dad first took him in 1949, the trip took over five hours because I-65 didn’t exist. He recalled that the 1951 winner was driven by Lee Wallard and owned by Murrell Belanger, who had a Crown Point Chrysler dealership.  Jerry’s worst experience was in 1973. Salt Walther crashed and was badly burned on the first lap; then rain postponed the action for two days and shortened the race on the third after 133 laps.

 Linda Teague and Angela Lane

Linda Teague passed away; daughter Angie wrote this touching notice:

We lost my mom, Linda Teague, yesterday and we dearly miss her today and always. She fought a long hard battle with ALS, and was able to overcome obstacle after obstacle so that she could still be a part of our lives but her body finally couldn't take it anymore even though her mind was willing. Although we knew this day would come, it doesn't make it any less difficult and I wish she could have stayed with us longer. But, I know that she is at peace now and no longer in pain. She was a wonderful mom and grandma and she will live in our hearts forever. Love you Mom! XOXO

I first met Linda when she worked at the Kmart in Miller.  After it closed down, she became an A student at IUN and received a Bachelor’s degree in Allied Health with a specialty in Medical Coding.  Despite the ravages of ALS – during the past year she could communicate only by blinking – she lived to see grandkids James and Becca mature into talented and personable young adults.

photo above by Miranda, below by Alissa  (of Miranda, Carly, Jimbo, Josh)

Carly and Miranda at Krka National Park

Alissa, Josh, Miranda and friend Carly spent the night before catching flights to London.  Final destination for Alissa and Josh was Valencia on the Mediterranean coast of Spain.  Miranda and Carly were headed to Dubrovnik, Croatia, on the Adriatic.  Josh has been listening to Spanish music and plans on visiting Madrid for a live concert.  One reason Miranda selected Dubrovnik is because scenes from Game of Throneswere filmed there.  Also, it’s just a day trip to the waterfalls at Krka National Park.  Phil, meanwhile, is in Long Beach, where in 1986 Toni and I attended an Oral History Association conference on the RMS Queen Mary, converted to a troop transport ship during World War II.  In 1967 the Cunard Line retired the Queen Mary after a voyage from Southampton, England to Long Beach, where it remains permanently moored.

Laura Dern starred in the harrowing HBO film “The Tale,” a true story written and directed by Jennifer Fox, about a 13-year-old sexually abused by a female riding instructor and male track coach. Fox began examining her past after her mother, played by Ellen Burstyn, came across an eighth grade paper she’d written titled “The Tale.”  In the biopic we learn that this odious behavior was common practice for the two coaches.  When they wanted to involve the 13-year-old in a four-way with a collegian, she rebelled and broke off further contact.

A conversation with a high school classmate got me thinking about my 12th grade homeroom at Upper Dublin in Mrs. Margaret Davis’ large Home Economics classroom.  It contained folks I’d once been friends with but whom I’d drifted apart from due to the school’s academic tracking system. I was particularly fascinated by Italian-American Marianne Tambourino, who talked like the girls on American Bandstandfrom South Philly, exotic, tan-skinned Charmayne Staton, who was every guy’s fantasy, and red-haired Gaard Murphy from Maine, who sported a deep New England accent.  I was somewhat of a class clown, hoping to get their attention.  I gave and received back rubs from some of the girls at day’s end but don’t think I worked up the nerve to approach Marianne, Charmayne or Gaard.  In my 1960 yearbook Marianne wrote: “To a very nice boy who made my homeroom bearable.”  So, who knows, maybe I rubbed her back.  Charmayne died young.   I’ve been friends with Gaard since the 1980 reunion and Marianne since our fiftieth in 2010.

I recall Buck Elliott saying that Mrs. Davis had a great figure.  Previously, I hadn’t noticed, but after that, I enjoyed getting a rise out of her.  Each student was required to take a two-week turn doing the morning Bible reading.  Every day I read the same verse, Ecclesiastes 11:1-6, beginning, “Cast thy bread upon the waters, for you shall find it after many days” and ending with “in the morning sow thy seed,”which I found to be risqué.   Nobody seemed to notice.  The verse is from a letter by King Solomon of Israel, son of David and Bathsheba, advising sinners that generosity and hard work will in time be rewarded.  In my yearbook Gaard wrote: “Be good to your teachers.  Think of what you did to Mrs. Davis.”  Her best friend Linda Rutherford, no doubt dating college upperclassmen by then, wrote: “To a nice boy who can really be a pest.  I’ll never forget Ecclesiastes in homeroom.”  At our fiftieth reunion, I apologized to Music teacher Mr. Foust for my at times unruly behavior.  He replied, “Oh, you weren’t so bad.” I’m certain he experienced much worse.

I spoke to Steve McShane’s students about their oral history assignment: to interview a bowler.  My main point was that memories are tricky and so follow-up is important.  One student interviewed her 93-year-old grandmother and got her aunt to provide details on things granny was fuzzy on.  Citing my own experience, I initially had no recollection of bowling with my family or being in a youth program but did recall asking Vic how he did when he’d come home from bowling, incidentally smelling like cigars (the only other time the “Old Man” smoked cigars was playing poker).  He carried an average in the 180s and threw a ball that started near the right gutter.  The only way I could have known that was to have bowled with him.  In high school I’d outbowl most of my friends, and that must have been from having experience.  While dating, Toni and I bowled on a team with two others, but I can’t recall who they were or where the alley was.  We went to an establishment in Maryland that to our amazement used miniature balls and short, squat duckpins.  I suggested students inquire about the history of their subjects’ leagues.  My Sheet and Tin League at Cressmoor Lanes once consisted entirely of steelworkers.  Our present league, Mel Guth Seniors, is named for a bowler who recently died.  Previously, it was similarly  named for Rob Tucker, Sr.

ABC cancelled the sitcom Roseanne after Roseanne Barr tweeted a racist comment about former senior Obama adviser Valerie Jarret, calling her an offspring of the Muslim brotherhood and “Planet of the Apes.” Barr attempted to claim that she was on Ambien and wrote: “I apologize to Valerie Jarrett and to all Americans. I am truly sorry for making a bad joke about her politics and her looks. I should have known better. Forgive me - my joke was in bad taste.”  Ray Smock wrote:“Trump weighs in on Roseanne firing by demanding that ABC apologize to him!”  Matthew Simek responded:“Where is the vomit emoji when you need one?”  On “Full Frontal” comedian Samantha Bee is under fire for calling Ivanka Trump a “feckless cunt.”  She has also apologized and so far hasn’t been taken off the air, despite howls from Fox commentators.  In “For America” from the 1986 “Lives in his Balance” album Jackson Browne sang this final verse:

The kid I was when I first left home
Was looking for his freedom and a life of his own
But the freedom that he found wasn't quite as sweet
When the truth was known
I have prayed for America
I was made for America
I can't let go till she comes around
Until the land of the free
Is awake and can see

              And until her conscience has been found

Terry Bauer, back left; Yuan Hsu front middle

Dee Van Bebber and I finished third in duplicate after being mostly on defense.  Terry Bauer reported on competing in the Grand National Team Finals in Southfield, Michigan, with Taiwanese native Yuan Hsu, who used a strong Club precision bidding system developed in Taiwan and now very popular among experts that Terry normally does not play. Teammate Mike Brissette told Newslettereditor Barb Walczak that Terry played above his potential, gained a lot of insight and was “a big nuisance against the precision players.”  I told Terry about flying to Taiwan after a month in Hong Kong.  He said his daughter will be moving to Honk Kong soon.  “You’ll have to visit her,”I interjected.  “I’m planning to,” he replied.

Dave and I hope to visit the Estonian coastal city of Talinn while in Finland.  Rick Stevens’ Scandinavia asserts: “Getting off the boat in Talinn is a bigger cultural step than you will take anywhere else in the Scandinavian region.”  Originally called Reval, it thrived during the fourteenth century as a member of the Hanseatic League, a mercantile and military alliance centered in Lübeck, Germany. I know about the League because of my former IUN colleague Rhiman Rotz.  In contrast, two hundred years ago, Helsinki was a mere village.

The Holidays

“I once wanted to become an atheist, but I gave up – they have no holidays.”  Henny Youngman

Famous for rapid-fire one-liners, comedian Henny Youngman (1906-1998) was the best nightclub performer of his time who often made fun of his wife Sadie and titled his autobiography “Take My Wife, Please.”

Over the holidays I mixed in reading, gaming, and TV watching (sports mainly) with family fun.  At one time or another a total of 15 folks stayed at the condo, including a dozen overnight guests at a time.  The Halberstadts had the grandest Game Weekend ever, lasting five days.  We received Christmas cards with photos from many friends, and I talked on the phone with college roomie Rich Baker (our fiftieth Bucknell reunion is coming up), Marianne Brush (who saw Cracker at the Chicago Hilton and then partied with the guys afterwards), brother-in-law Sonny (about the playoff-bound Eagles and high school sweetie Gaard (now a Californian again).

Geoff Paddock’s Traces article on Marvella Bayh, wife of former Senator Birch and mother of Evan, is entitled “A Shining Example.”  Beautiful and talented, she suffered serious injuries in a car accident shortly after their marriage, survived a plane crash that almost killed Ted Kennedy, and lost a battle with breast cancer at age 46.  Paddock left out that Marvella’s dad, an alcoholic, to whom she was extremely close, murdered his second wife and then committed suicide.

J. Michael Lennon’s “Norman Mailer: A Double Life” ends with the literary lion, age 84, weighing less than a hundred pounds and barely able to walk.  He envied aged Eskimos who retreated to the forest and died fighting a wild beast.  The last time he visited a longtime mistress they only talked, but on his deathbed he flirted with a 29 year-old nurse.  Earlier he told sixth wife Norris he wished he were single and in Paris.  She replied that he’d meet a young girl his first day and would no longer be single.  Author Lennon, a personal friend, puts himself in the narrative as Mailer himself was wont to do.  Mailer’s last three novels were ponderous and impossible to finish.  After Mailer told Truman Capote, “I don’t think you’ve ever understood anything I’ve written,” the author of “In Cold Blood (which Mailer admired) answered: “How can I?  I get lost they’re so long.”  Mailer’s most vicious critic, Michiko Kakutani of the New York Times, conceded, in her words, his “quick skewering eye; a gift for the cameo portrait; bat-quality radar for atmosphere and mood; blustering bellicose prose; and copious talent for capturing the American spirit as it descends into ‘corporation land,’ with cheap consumer blandishments and the siren call of fame.”

Christmas Eve at Hagelbergs we enjoyed their grandson Jeremy, who despite only having been in America a year or so speaks passable English and danced a jig with me after winding up a holiday music box.  Our Christmas was two days late due to others’ family obligations.  On December 26 Toni hosted a ham dinner followed by tree decorating, the March of Presents, and games of Say Anything, Ingenious, and Werewolf.  Next morning I received socks, jelly, cologne, the CD “Foreverly” featuring Billie Joe Armstrong and Norah Jones singing songs Don and Phil’s daddy taught them, and the territory building eurogame Terra Mystica.  Parquet Courts, the neo-punk band I’ll be seeing in January at Pappy and Harriet’s, made Robert Blaszkiewicz’s “Best of 2013” list.  Nephew Bob’s daughter Addie wrote saying she can’t wait to see Uncle Jimbo in the desert.

 Toni and Jimbo

Time constraints cut short the annual poetry read, but I recited Shel Silverstein’s “Lyin’ Larry,” which begins: “Larry’s such a liar – he tells outrageous lies.  He says he’s 99 years old instead of only five.”  December 27 was Anthony’s sixteenth birthday, and among his presents was Eminem’s new Martin Mathers CD.  Dave and Angie left for a Cheap Trick concert, preceded by the famed Star Plaza buffet.  Dave reported that Rick Nielsen, Robin Zander, and company rocked but looked old.  After all, Nielsen is 67 and Zander turns 60 next month.

At Halberstadt’s thirty-fourth annual Game Week-end daughter Sheridan filled in as hostess since Robin was on a cruise.  I won Wits and Wages by guessing closest to the date New Amsterdam became New York (1664), then played poorly in Amen Re and flat-out sucked in Telestrations; in one round Charles Halberstadt thought my drawing of a pick-up truck was a golf cart.  The food was sumptuous, including a roast ham and the traditional beef sandwiches; my contribution was Cole slaw, cherry tomatoes, salsa, guacamole, and chips.  Werewolf was fun with 16 people, but the Ghost card, which the moderator added, was so powerful the villagers had an unfair advantage. After I left, Dave organized a Texas Hold ‘em tournament with Brady Wade and collegians Austin and Alex that lasted till 5 a.m.

Sunday I won League of Six against Phil and Tyler, Patti, and Evan Davis, who taught us last year.  Patti had found a bunch at Goodwill, brought one home, loved it, and returned to the store to find the others gone.  Dave bought one for my last birthday, but we rarely play because T. Wade doesn’t like it. Phil and I were back at the condo for the Bears’ heartbreaking defeat against Green Bay and the Eagles fortunate win in Dallas thanks to a late interception.  Phil and Alissa stayed around on Monday and we reminisced about Christmases past at Maple Place.  With all the snow we’ve had, I’m glad we’re no longer there.

New Year’s Eve our furnace went out, and it took two trips by Randy from Summers Plumbing Heating and Cooling to make it right.  Jack Gruenenfelder’s daughter Dawn needed me to meet her in Merrillville at Budget Rent-a-Car and then drive her to M and S Collision Center in Valpo.  When Jack had a fatal heart attack driving home from a concert, the car crossed the road and crashed into a tree.  Heroic measures kept him alive a few days, but Dawn thinks he suffered brain damage.  He barely regained consciousness, just enough to express discomfort and shake his head no to every question people asked him. 

Anne Balay is spending New Year’s Eve in Berlin after visiting Budapest, the Alps, Salzburg, and Dresden, where daughters Emma and Leah bought little doughnuts called Quarks.  Miss them and hope 2014 finds justice prevailing in Anne’s tenure case.