Folly

“People cling to folly as if it were their most prized possession. Defending it, sometimes with violence, against the possibility of wisdom.” Richard Russo, “Intervention”

In a recent New York Times column discussing Trump’s foreign policy blunders, Jon Meacham referenced Barbara Tuchman’s “The March of Folly: From Troy to Vietnam” (1984), which concluded that folly begins with a self-destructive will to power combined with “wooden-headedness,”or “assessing a situation in terms of preconceived notions while ignoring or rejecting any contrary signs.”  Meacham sees folly at work in Republicans’ blind tribal loyalty -  the refusal of most to acknowledge that their leader might not only be wrong but truly dangerous.

 Kendall Svengalis

In a scathing rebuttal to a Timeseditorial endorsement of Gary Emergency Manager Peggy Hinckley’s hare-brained plan to auction off the school city’s valuable art collection, including a bust of Superintendent William A. Wirt, to pay off “a miniscule fraction of its $98 million debt,” Gary native and historian Kendall F. Svengalis wrote:

  If it hadn’t been for William A. Wirt, Gary would have been no more than a blip on the national educational landscape.  He alone is responsible for building a school system on national renown, one that expanded the curriculum of his day, achieved remarkable economies so that schoolchildren could have access to first-class facilities and equipment, like swimming  pools and auditoriums.  His K-12 “unit school” concept helped encourage students to go on and graduate from high school at a time when barely 9 percent of students did so.

  As this gritty industrial city became home to thousands of immigrants and southern blacks, he gave them art and music that would be the envy of many suburban schools today.  Gary had band and orchestra throughout the city, beginning in the fifth grade, and city-wide festivals that allowed students to showcase their talents.

  And Gary had art, not only in the classroom but original art on the walls of many of its schools.  For Wirt, art was not a frill but an essential element of a well-rounded education.  And that art was paid for, not with taxpayer funds, but with the three-fourths of a cent earned on each lunch served in the school cafeterias.  Wirt gave as much attention to the arts as he did athletics. Gary had much of which to be proud. This legacy should not be sacrificed due to mismanagement by successive waves of school administration.  Where would we be as a civilization if, every time a municipality experiences fiscal challenges, its first thought is to sell off its history?

Toni and I attended a Gary SouthShore RailCats baseball game as guests of Dick Hagelberg, whose company, Kidstuff Playsystems, reserved a party deck for the families of its employees. The pitcher for the visiting Sioux Falls Canaries walked the first four RailCats betters, all of whom scored in a 4-3 victory.  On the centerfield wall were retired numbers 23, 42, and 45.  I knew 42 stood for Dodger pioneer Jackie Robinson and learned later that 23 was for pitcher Willie Glen, who led the team to Northern league titles in 2005 and 2007 and was 2010 Pitcher of the Year. Number 45 honored Joe Gates, a Gary Roosevelt grad, former White Sox second baseman, Wirt baseball coach for 28 years, and RailCats coach from its initial home season in 2003 until his death in 2010. The postgame fireworks display was the best that Toni could remember.

Joe Gates in 2006 with South Holland mayor Don DeGraff; Times photo by Natalie Battaglia

At Abuelo’s in Merrillville, Angie Stojanovic, who used to work in Admissions at IUN, waved, and I stopped to talk with her. Friends with favorite student Shannon Pontney, Angie, despite misgivings (she was very religious), came to my retirement celebration at Mark O’s Bar in Portage, where Voodoo Chili performed.  After a great meal, eight of us played party bridge at the Crown Point home of Connie and Brian Barnes.  Evelyn Passo mentioned accompanying Herb on several business trips to Guangzhou (formerly Canton), which I visited during my 1994 China trip with 15 others, mainly Aussies and new Zealanders but including a young guy from Berkeley who was persistently tardy getting back on the bus, usually carrying a bunch of presents.  We both got a kick out over how horrified the other were about Chinese traffic and bathroom facilities.  One afternoon he had the hotel concierge send a masseuse to his room.  A beautiful young woman gave him a “happy ending” and then asked whether he knew anyone who wanted a similar experience.  He dutifully knocked on my door accompanied by the eager hooker, all smiles and hands extended toward my crotch, but I declined.  Later, the guy confessed to having shown the woman a necklace intended for his fiancé that she snatched up as her tip.

In Richard Russo’s short story “Horseman” a brilliant, compassionate African-American English professor named Marcus Bellamy has a profound influence on grad students Janet and Robbie Moore, who later named their son after him.  In a Proletarian Literature seminar, Janet wrote about John Dos Passos, knowing the novelist was a favorite of Bellamy.  I, too, am a big fan of his early work, especially the U.S.A.trilogy, written before Dos Passos became disillusioned with radical causes as a result of experiences during the Spanish Civil War. At a bar people were reciting their favorite poem.  Bellamy chose “Windy Nights” by Robert Louis Stevenson because his deceased father read it to him as a child. It became the favorite poem of young, autistic Marcus Moore:

Whenever the moon and stars are set,
Whenever the wind is high,
All night long in the dark and wet,
A man goes riding by.
Late in the night when the fires are out,
Why does he gallop and gallop about?
Whenever the trees are crying aloud,
And ships are tossed at sea,
By, on the highway, low and loud,
By at the gallop goes he.
By at the gallop he goes, and then
By he comes back at the gallop again. 

I wonder if Russo named Marcus Bellamy for Black nationalist Marcus Garvey and utopian novelist Edward Bellamy, author of “Looking Backward.” In “Horseman” dilettante Tony Hope was a corny comedian (a la Bob Hope) who drank with his students, and seduced female faculty and staff.  House-husband Robbie Moore, an arrested adolescent, played in a garage band and could recite by heart the opium-inspired Samuel Taylor Coleridge dream vision “Kubla Khan.”

IUN Elementary Education major Amber Ortiz’s journal described being married, the mother of two-year-old Lily, and working at Eagle Park, a special education school for kids with developmental and physical disabilities:

  Introduction:  I first attended IUN after graduating from Crown Point H.S. in 2010. After several semesters I lost interest in school and stopped enrolling in order to focus on work and my relationship with my boyfriend and now husband Javier. I became passionate about special education from peer tutoring in high school. At Eagle Park I have the title of Premier Sub and fill in when a teacher or paraprofessional is absent. I have been there for 4 years.  My desire to have my own classroom is one motivation for completing my education. Another is to be an example for Lily. 

  February 14, 2018:I enjoy Valentine’s Day because I have two loves, Javier and Lily. Today the kids in my class, grades 3 to 5, shared Valentine cards. The excitement caused some anxiety and physical aggressiveness.  It made for an exhausting day that required doing control techniques on some students. During my lunch break I picked up a Valentine’s Day treat at CVS for Lily for when I pick her up from her grandma’s.  Once home. it was time to unwind and start my daily chores, clean up and make dinner, and keep Lily entertained. Javier arrived home bearing gifts, a card and chocolates for me and a card and stuffed hippo for Lily. She was so excited. We ate dinner, played in Lily’s room, and then watched a bit of TV before he called it a night since he gets up at 4 a.m. when on day shift. 

  Feb. 17:Since Javier was off work, I made Belgium waffles and sausage links for breakfast. We spent the day chasing our crazy 2-year-old around as she climbed on furniture and put stuff in her mouth. While Lily napped, I washed dishes and cleaned up the kitchen. After I fed her chicken nuggets and cut up fruit, we dropped off Lily at her grandmother’s and started our night. At Longhorns in Portage I ordered a ribeye with mashed potatoes and mixed veggies. After we stuffed our faces, I dragged my husband to Portage Imax to see 50 Shades Freed.He was dreading this movie all week, but I thoroughly enjoy chick flicks and had seen the previous 50 Shadesmovies. Once we sat down with popcorn and drinks, I noticed the theater was filled with women and a few random me.  Javier hated it, but I enjoyed it.  Lily was still wide-awake running around like the Crazy Carl nickname we gave her when we picked her up. 

 Feb. 27:I had lunch at House of Kobe with two close friends whom I have known since kindergarten. One lives in New Chicago and the other in St. Charles, IL.  Lily cried the entire time, starting when they lit the fire. Her previous time there, she was fine. At IUN I got a ticket from not properly displaying my parking pass. At home Javier had cooked hamburgers on the grill. He sensed my sour mood from the ticket so our night ended abruptly. I put Lily to bed and went to sleep myself.

  March 9:My sister, aunt, and I attended Nordstrom’s Spring Makeup and Clothing Trend Fashion Show.  I got my makeup done at the Bobbi Brown and M.A.C. counter. I missed my appointment to get my hair done since there were so many people they could not fit me in. My aunt considers me and my sister as her little babies.  We’d play with her makeup and put curlers in our hair like she did. At a boutique I found a cute bathing suit for Lily and a spring jacket for myself. At Star of Siam I ordered a dish with glass noodles, shrimp and chicken. My usual Thai item is just Pad Thai noodles, so I am proud of myself for trying something new. At the parking garage our validated parking ticket expired an hour before so instead of paying $15 dollars, the total was $49. It’s amazing how much Chicago visits cost, but if I could have my way I’d definitely live downtown. 

  March 15:I got to work a little late because Lily has been sick with a fever. Work was stressful. We had 3 control techniques (holds or restraints) after the students became aggressive or unsafe. Thursdays the kids usually have art class as well as gym so that helps the day go by a little faster. Before going to bed earlier than normal, I packed Javier’s lunch and got Lily’s outfit and diaper bag ready for her grandmas

  March 16:Work today was fairly easy; the kids will make up for it another day in the future.  I visited my mom in my old Crown Point home. Now divorced, she lives by herself. For dinner, she ordered Chinese food from a nearby restaurant, so I was pretty excited. My mom is very introverted and has anxiety when around people. I am a quiet person but still likes to have a good time. I have tried to talk her into joining a gym but she worries people will think she’s fat. 

 March 17:Being 50 percent Irish, I was planning on doing a St. Patty’s run in Crown Point but it was raining and I didn’t want to take Lily outside and risk her getting sick.  She drags baby dolls with her everywhere. After her nap, we drove to Miller. My dad, aunt, and grandparents all live with a few blocks to each other near the beach. My dad grew up on Gary’s north side and went to Holy Angel’s and then Andrean. My sister came up from Indy.  I have never met someone in today’s age care so little about having a cell phone. Once home, Lily ran to Javier like she hadn’t seen him in ages. She really is a daddy’s girl; when he’s around, I’m chop liver. 

  March 18:After a full night’s sleep, I made chorizo and eggs and gave Lily a bath.  At the mall I picked out a birthday gift for my mother-in-law. We found a nice necklace and then I took Lily to the Disney Store and Build-a-Bear. She picked out a stuffed animal character in the Disney Store from the TV show “Puppy Dog Pals.” I despise stuffed animals since she has so many, yet I have the hardest time throwing any of them away.  After Lily’s nap, I made her a grilled cheese with pickles for lunch, one of her favorites. Then she colored a birthday card with finger paints. Needless to say, she made a masterpiece but a mess as well! When Javier came home, we met his family at Cooper’s Hawk. Lily ran up to her grandma and gave her a hug and her special card. I ordered the soy ginger glazed salmon. We sang Happy Birthday with chocolate covered strawberries and gave her the necklace.   It being her 50^thbirthday, next weekend friends and family will celebrate at Bar Louie’s in Merrillville. 

  March 29:Tomorrow is Good Friday so no school; the following week is spring break, which means 10 days of freedom. Lily and her cousin Kai who is a year younger got pictures taken at J.C. Penney with the Easter bunny.  Unlike her Santa pictures, when she cried, this time they came out cute. She and Kai wore matching dresses and hair bows and my heart just melted all over the floor. Back home I made homemade pizzas and a garden salad.  It was a successful day in my book.

  April 1:On holidays we usually invite my mom to join us as my dad’s.  She lives alone and her family is in Ireland, where she grew up.  On the rare occasions when she has come, she doesn’t say much. On top of that, most holidays my mother cooks an excessive amount of food and then expects me to take home the leftovers. After breakfast at Jelly’s pancake house, Lily received an Easter basket form my dad and grandma and her eyes lit up.  Next stop was to my mom’s for lunch.  She had an entire couch covered in Easter baskets and gifts plus more food than necessary as usual: ham, green beans, Brussel sprouts, mashed potatoes, salad, rolls, and dessert. After dinner Lily opened all her gifts. When Javier called to say he was on his way home, I loaded the car with leftovers and Lily’s Easter gifts.  We said our thank yous and goodbyes, met Javier at home, and headed to his mom’s. Awaiting us was a ham, 7-layer salad, green beans, cheesy potato casserole, and dinner rolls. I brought over a carrot cake for dessert. Lily had another Easter basket and emptied everything on the floor. Back home, we FINALLY gave Lily her basket from the Easter bunny. 

  April 8:Kid’s Day at Chicago C2E2 is an entertainment convention at McCormick Place. We have gone the past 2 years. Javier is into comics, video games, and anime. Though not my cup of tea, it still is a cool event.  People dress up in creative costumes. The first year Lily went as Minnie Mouse, then she was in Power Ranger Gear; this year’s theme was Star Wars. At Suicide Squad photo booth one could pick an outfit and props and take an action shot in front of a green screen.  At a New Orleans seafood restaurant called Pappadeaux we waited almost an hour to get seated.  The mussels we ordered had a fishy odor and seemed extremely slimy. We let the server know, and he took them off the table. The manager confided that she receives several complaints about the mussels daily but each shipment they keep getting bigger and bigger.  When I lifted a drink menu, I noticed a big dead sider on the table. The waiter quickly removed it with a plastic bag. When our meals finally came, but I had completely lost my appetite. Though the bill was on the house, I doubt we’ll ever go back.

Becca and James at Chellberg Farm

Sunday we had Dave’s family for dinner.  Toni served delicious mussels and scallops with mango salsa and a salad. For the fourth straight game the Cubs manages just one run on a solo HR.  Nonetheless, the split the series with the Pirates thanks to shutout performances by John Lester and Cole Hamels.  James and Becca are back to school already, and Dave has been coaching tennis since the beginning of August.

Destiny and Power

“It is not in the stars to hold our destiny but in ourselves.” William Shakespeare, “Julius Caesar"

Jon Meacham’s flowery biography, “Destiny and Power: The American Odyssey of George Herbert Walker Bush,” begins with a variant of Shakespeare’s sentiment about fate and free will by William Jennings Bryan.  “The Great Commoner” and three-time Democratic Presidential candidate said, “Destiny is not a matter of chance; it is a matter of choice.  It is not a thing to be waited for; it is a thing to be achieved.”  Reading through Meacham’s biography of George H.W. Bush, I felt the pangs of nostalgia for a time when there was a modicum of civility in American Presidential politics.  That’s not to say that the competitive elder Bush did not play dirty when necessary – he brought up furloughed murderer Willie Horton so often that campaign manager Lee Atwater joked that people mistake him for Michael Dukakis’ running mate.  On the other hand, out of office, he found that he liked and respected his successors Bill Clinton and Barack Obama and certainly lived life to the fullest, celebrating his ninetieth birthday, for example, as he had done on his eightieth, with a skydive.  Meacham’s opus concludes with an episode that took place not long before that, when a hurricane was about to hit the Maine coast.  As power went out and winds approached 50 miles per hour, Bush’s chief-of-staff Jean Baker could not find him until alerted that he was outside on his scooter by the shoreline.  Barely able to stand, she reached him and asked what he was doing.  Meacham wrote:

  He looked at her with a puzzled expression, as if the answer were obvious.

  “I can’t see anything from the house,” he replied just audible over the whooshing weather, “and I don’t want to miss anything.”

 1967 Monterey Pop Music Festival poster

Michelle Phillip and Justin Russell of The Head and the Heart

It’s the fiftieth anniversary of the Monterey Pop Music Festival, a symbolic event that ushered in the psychedelic “Summer of Love” and was the inspiration for Woodstock, Altamont, and, at present, Bonnaroo and Coachella. In 1967, concert-goers were treated to performances by the Jimi Hendrix Experience, The Who, Janis Joplin, Otis Redding, Ravi Shankar, Jefferson Airplane, the Grateful Dead, Eric Burden and the Animals, Booker T. and the M.G.’s, the Mamas and the Papas, and many lesser lights.  Returning a half-century later were Phil Lesh of the Grateful Dead, Booker T., Eric Burdon, and the still radiant Michelle Phillips, formerly of the Mamas and the Papas, who joined the Head and the Heart and sang “California Dreamin’.”  Wish I’d been there.

Ron Cohen’s “Folk City: New York and the American Folk Music Revival,” co-authored with Stephen Petrus, got a somewhat favorable review in the Journal of American History, but – a pet peeve of mine – critic Ulrich Adelt adds his two cents about things that might have been examined more closely, such as the career of Jean Ritchie, sometimes called “The Mother of Folk.”  The Appalachian dulcimer player is credited with bridging the gap between the traditional and modern folk tradition.  The youngest of 14 children born into a musically-inclined farm family, Jean moved to New York around 1946 and worked at Henry Street Settlement. Through folk song collector Alan Lomax, who recorded her for the Library of Congress, she performed at hootenannies and became a regular on Oscar Brand’s WNYC radio show.

Delia, Phil, and Becca

Over the week-end Phil and Delia enjoyed a second honeymoon on Mackinac Island.  A half-century ago, my family took a Great Lakes cruise from Detroit to Duluth that included a stop there. Dave and Angie took Becca to show choir camp at Heidelberg University, but rain cancelled their plan to visit Cedar Point Amusement Park. 

Saturday at Chesterton library I picked up Depeche Mode’s new CD “Spirit,” featuring “Where’s the Revolution” and “Going Backwards (to a caveman mentality).”  In the serials room I read Dan Wakefield’s account of his high school days at Indianapolis Shortridge (class of 1950) in Traces magazine (the Hoosier novelist was friends with future Senator Richard Lugar; both were columnists on The Daily Echo).    

Dan Wakefield goes home

At Chesterton’s European Market an entertainer had set out a bongo drum next to his tip jar, and kids took turns banging on it – an ingenious gimmick that seemed to pay off.  Sunday at Miller Market Jef Sarver was back belting out the Animals classic “House of the Rising Sun” and other favorites, including a healthy diet of Eagles tunes.  I was eating a taco with Omar Farag when Councilwoman Rebecca Wyatt said hello and at first mistook Omar for brother Bobby.  Karren Lee told me that husband Pat had been in a cast for six weeks after missing a step on stairs and screwing up his knee.  He’s now started therapy with Toni’s instructor “Yoga Dave.”  Toni once made that mistake and broke her foot.  I did the same thing going into the basement shortly after we moved into the condo and fell forward, scraping my knee (the affected area is still discolored).

photos by Samuel A. Love

The Emerson portion of the Poetry Project kicked off with members of the Progressive Community Church, Emerson alumni, and former and current neighborhood residents. Samuel A. Love wrote: “We finally met the legendary Mayor of Carolina St, Keith, who is literally the last man left on the block and carries a great history. We enjoyed the energy of the joyful noise coming from the church while we painted. And we're glad the cops quickly realized we weren't ‘the two white guys seen looting out the back of the building.’ We'll be helping to finish securing the building and covering the boards with the people's words.”  What a shame that the historically significant school had been abandoned and left to deteriorate.

 Rosietta Brown

Barbara Walczak’s Newsletter reported the passing of bridge player Rosietta Brown, 81, for years active in the American Bridge Association, an African-American organization formed in 1933 at a time blacks were denied access to many bridge tournaments. Her friend Juwanna Walton wrote:

  I would always complain that I couldn’t remember all the different bridge rules.  You scolded me very harshly.  You told me, “Stop saying that you can’t remember – yes, you CAN!  You just have to get serious about your game, stay focused, and play as often as possible.”  I must say, that after taking your advice, I have seen improvements in my game.

  I am very grateful to you, Rosietta, for taking the time to be a mentor to e and for the role model you have become to me.  I grew to appreciate your valuable advice and from there a beautiful friendship was formed.  You told me to always remember that bridge should be a game of fun.

Rosietta Brown worked for many years as a travel agent and visited over two dozen African countries.  She donated clothes, books, toiletries, and school supplies to African children.

Arriving early to Gino’s, the hostess told me that several history book club members were at the bar.  Ken Anderson bought me a beer, and the owner gave me a free plate of delicious pasta and salmon.  Jim Pratt, a Republican and George H.W. Bush admirer, reported on Jon Meacham’s “Destiny and Power.” I noted that Bush’s greatest moment was not bragging about the fall of the Soviet Union and that his biggest political failure was not replacing Dan Quayle on the 1992 ticket with general Colin Powell.  I stressed how Bush was not averse to employing dirty tactics; everyone was familiar with the Willie Horton ads, and I added how he accused Michael Dukakis of being a card-carrying member of the ACLU.  Ken Anderson made the analogy with Joseph McCarthy’s red-baiting charges.