Old Man

“I miss my old man tonight

And I wish he was here with me.”

  Steve Goodman, “My Old Man”

 

Phil and Jimbo Father's Day, 2020

Dave and Jimbo, Finland, 2018

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

 

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

    Zac Brown Band

 

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


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

 

Carter G. Woodson

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

The Beths

left, War on Drugs

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

 

Daimaruya Miyuki on left

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

 

A huge ant crawling

Across the reed mat

Slowly, in the heat

 

Oppressive heat,

My mind in disarray,

Thunder in the distance

Small Farms

“Do what you love to do, and be around things that make you smile.  The cows make me smile every day.” David Jackson, Bentwood (Texas) Dairy

 David Jackson family at Bentwood Dairy

When I was growing up in the rural suburb of Fort Washington, PA, Wentz turkey farm was a mile from our house as well as the Van Sant farm, where seasonal work opportunities were available for teenagers. Living in Gary during the early 1970s, one could drive south on Broadway and come across farms later replaced by suburban sprawl.  In October we’d visit one to buy Halloween pumpkins; others sold Christmas trees. As teenagers during the 1980s Phil and Dave picked up spending money de-tasseling seed corn in rural Porter County.

Due in part to the expansion of agribusiness giants such as Monsanto, Cargill, and Archer Daniels Midland, the number of family farms in America continues to shrink by more than 100,000 since 2013, according to Time magazine.  Farm debt has rose close to $500 billion, and more than half of all farms lost money each of the past seven years.  According to the Department of Agriculture in 2017 the average farm size was 434 acres, and the number of small farms of less than 10 acres had shrunk to 273,000.  Farms of more than 2,000 acres accounted for 60 percent of total agricultural production.

 Mike Certa (3rd from left) in 2007 IUN retirement photo with Leroy Gray, Patti Lundberg, Florence Sawicki

Mike Certa wrote a piece titled “Two Treat Day” about visiting a dairy farm in Merrillville, Indiana, when he was a kid.

    When I was at Edison Elementary School in Gary, we were told that our class of “city kids” was going to have an outing to the “country” to see the Tony Smith Dairy Farm out in the wilds of Merrillville.  In addition to the farm, the Smith family ran a store as an outlet for their dairy products.  When I told my Mom where my class was going, she said, “Did you know that we’re related to Tony Smith?”  Of course, I didn’t.  Mom continued, “My grandma was Clara Schmit, and she was Tony Smith’s brother.  She was married to my Grandfather Michael Boesen.  Clara was my mother Anna’s mother.”

    I was confused and full of questions, “How come her name was Schmit and her brother’s name was Smith?  Who was Clara again?” Mom explained that the family came from Germany and that their name was originally Schmit.  Mathias Schmit and wife Catherin were granted possession of land in what is now Merrillville in 1852.  Their Grandaughter, Mom’s Grandma, Clara Schmit married Michael Boesen  in 1894. At that time, the entire family was known as Schmit.  During World War I (1914-1918), when Germany and America fought one another, many Germans living in American changed their names to more American sounding ones.  Schmit was changed to Smith.  When Tony (Schmit) Smith started his farm, he used his American name.

    Later I discovered what an amazing woman Clara (Schmit) Boesen was.  Widowed at an early age with four small children (Margaret, Francis, Raymond, and Anna), she began teaching school in Merrillville.  She later became the Griffith Postmistress, a post in which she served for decades.  Because of her job, she owned one of the first automobiles in Lake County.  Since she didn’t drive, she was chauffeured around by her youngest son, Raymond (also known in the family as Scotty).

    Mom remembered visiting her Uncle Tony’s farm with her mother and grandmother.  She told me to let them know that I was related to the owner.  She said, “Tell them that Tony Smith is your Great-Uncle.  Say that your mother is Cecelia Mae Govert from Griffith.”  The day of the school field trip she made sure that I took a piece of paper with me with that information on it.

    The bus picked us up in Brunswick.  As we got close to the farm, we could see cows in the fields and some barns.  The actual field trip is a bit of a blur.  They showed us the milking barn and some cows.  I was waiting for the visit to the dairy store for two reasons:  that’s where Mom told me to let them know who I was, and rumor had it there might be some sort of treat.

    Sure enough, once we got to the dairy store we were told we could get either a fudgesicle or a creamsicle.  When I got to the lady passing out the goodies, I said, “Tony Smith is my Great-Uncle.  My Mom is Cecelia Mae Govert from Griffith.”  The lady said, “What?  Who?”  I repeated my speech.  Still, the lady looked confused.  I pulled my piece of paper out of my pocket and handed it to her.  She took it and went into the back room, calling out to someone.  I don’t know who was back there, but when she came out she was smiling.  She said, “Well, since you’re a relative, you get a special treat.”  Then she gave me two treats: a fudgesicle AND a creamsicle!!!!!!!!!!  I was the envy of the entire class.

    Nowadays, when I drive past the intersection of Old Merrillville Road and 59th Avenue, and see the Smith Dairy Store (that is now across from Saints Peter and Paul Church), I think of that old location as part of my family’s history, enough to get me TWO ice cream treats. 

In 2018 NWI Times correspondent Jane Ammeson interviewed Merrillville/Ross Township Historical Society president Roy Foreman, who recalled: “Smith's Dairy Farm on the north side of Merrillville gave tours to groups of school children and to Boy Scout and Girl Scout troops.”

Small Farms Apartments

Gary’s Small Farms on the west side near the Little Calumet River dates at least as far back as the 1930s.  Most homesteads are gone now, but Small Farms Apartments along 24th Avenue was constructed during the late 1970s, federally subsidized by the Department of Housing and Urban Development.  It is one of the neighborhoods included in a Flight Paths initiative I’m involved with as an oral historian. I ran into fellow participants Kay Westhues and Allison Schuette at a Gary Public Library reception organized by the Calumet Heritage Partnership titled “Calumet: The Land of Opportunity.” It included Calumet Regional Archives photographs and other items Steve McShane loaned them, including a Jackson 5 concert poster that caught my eye when I first arrived.  I chatted with colleague Ken Schoon, former IUN campus cop Ron Jones, labor activist David Klein, Gary librarians Maria Strimbu and David Hess, library board member Robert Buggs,former Gary council member Rebecca Wyatt, and Cedar Lake Historical Association director Julie Zasada, whose organization contributed a century-old sign advertising Bartlett cottages and who was one of the exhibit organizers. The buffet included chicken wings that thankfully weren’t so spicy as they appeared as well as miniature chocolate eclairs among the desert selections.

Robert Buggs, Kay Westhues, and Jimbo 

 ethnic kids at Gary's Bailly Branch library, 15th and Madison, 1922

Ron Cohen found a copy of Jean Shepherd’s “A Fistful of Fig Newtons” (1981) that contains a chapter titled “Ellsworth Leggett and the Great Ice Cream War” that begins with the author returning for a funeral to his hometown of Hammond, Indiana, which “stood craggy and sharp against the grayish multi-colored skies of the Region [and] resembled a vast, endless lakeside junkyard that had been created by that mysterious wrecking ball known as Time. . . An adult theater was on the very site on which the proud Parthenon theater had reposed, named after the Parthenon itself of ancient Athens.  It had been famous for its elegant lobby and its graceful Fred Astaire movies.  Now, TOPLESS MUD WRESTLING and dealers in greasy film cartridges shot in the cellars of Caracas.  Where Clark Gable was once the king, Linda Lovelace now reigned.” Shepherd contrasted his nondescript rental car with the old man’s Pontiac Silver Streak 8: 

    With its three yards of gracefully tapering obsidian black hood, its glorious Italian marble steering wheel with gleaming spidery chromium spokes – a steering wheel that could well hang on the walls of the Museum of Modern Art – its low, menacing purring classic Straight 8 engine, it bore as much resemblance to this 85-dollar-a-day tin can as the Queen Mary does to a plastic Boston whaler. 

    A giant dump truck roared past me, flinging bits of gravel and what appeared to be molten tar over my windshield.  Heavy diesel fumes rolled on my window.  I frantically tried to crank it up, but naturally the handle came off in my hand.  I flung it under the seat with a snarl, there to join the handle from the other door and the empty Pabst Blue Ribbon can thoughtfully left for me by the previous renter.

On the evening of the “war” between The Igloo’s owner Mr. Leggett and an ice cream franchise that had opened across the street from his ice cream emporium, the old man had taken the family out to “watch the mill”:  Shepherd wrote:

  “Watching the mill” was a special treat known only to the residents of the Region.  On hot nights people would drive to the lakefront and park in the velvet blackness near the shore to watch the flickering Vesuvius fireworks of the blast furnace and the rolling mills across the dark water.  Cherry-red ingots and sepia-shaded orange glowing sprays of sparks flung high in the air by the Bessemer converters made a truly beautiful and even spectacular sight as the hissing colors were reflected in the black waters of Lake Michigan.

    The smell of the lake was part of it, of course, Lake Michigan, that great, sullen, dangerous, beautiful body of water, is, in midsummer, like a primitive reptilian animal in heat.  For miles inland on such nights,  the natives can “smell the lake.”

    Not until I left the Region as a semi-adult did I realize that not everywhere was the northern sky a flickering line of orange and crimson, a perpetual man-made sunset.

Bridge opponent Lila Cohen recommended Tara Westover’s “Educated: A Memoir,” about the daughter of Mormon survivalists in Idaho home-schooled until she was 17, who, remarkably, earned a PhD from Cambridge University.  Lila had reviewed it for an AAUW publication.  Fred Green mentioned suffering a career-ending football injury at Indianapolis Brebeuf in eleventh grade. A linebacker and pulling guard, he’d been recruited by Notre Dame and West Point.  In “A Fistful of Fig Newtons” Jean Shepherd recalled being an intrepid defensive lineman at Hammond High where he “irrevocably shattered the ligaments of my left knee.” At a table with feisty 89-year-old partner Dottie Hart playing against two equally feisty octogenarians, we started the three hands late because our opponents had to use the bathroom. When we finished before the four other tables, one said, “Well, I guess we had time to use the restroom.”  I replied, “Yes, you’d even have had time to go number 2.”  She said, “TMI” – standing for too much information, a criticism she frequently gets from her grandchildren.  We all had a good laugh.

In Banta Center’s library I found Bob Greene’s “When We Get to Surf City: A Journey Through America in Pursuit of Rock and Roll, Friendship, and Dreams,” about the author’s unlikely 15-year gig as a backup singer at Oldies concerts for surf duo Jan and Dean.  “Surf City,” Jan and Dean’s first Number One hit, contains the line, “Surf City, where it’s 2 for 1, two girls for every boy.” Another couplet goes: “When we get to Surf City, we’ll be shootin’ the curl and checkin’ out the parties for a surfer girl.”  Greene compares his experience at middle-age to a kid’s fantasy of running away from home and joining the circus. Invited up on stage for the first time, he spotted headliner Chuck Berry waiting in the wings, mouthing the words to “Help Me Rhonda,” the Beach Boys hit Jan and Dean were covering.

Ray Smock 

Ray Smock shared an open letter constitutional scholar Richard Bernstein wrote to his former law professor Alan Dershowitz, which reads in part:

     I never thought that you would stoop so low as to embrace the pseudo-monarchical conception of the presidency treasured by President No. 45 and by those who enable him and do his bidding. Today, sad to say, those of us who are constitutional historians, who remember Watergate, and who know that a president of the United States is not a king of any kind are consumed with disgust, contempt, and revulsion by your embrace of the idea that a president can define the national interest by reference to his desire to win re-election, and that nothing but a violation of criminal law resulting in indictable felony can be an impeachable offense.

    You disgrace the legal profession, you disgrace this country, and you disgrace yourself by what you are saying in seeking to argue that No. 45 cannot be impeached except for an indictable felony.

At Cressmoor Lanes the impeachment trial was on TV but mute, no doubt a rehash of arguments repeated ad nauseum.  Instead of real cross-examination, the Democrats questioning the House managers and the Republicans tossing softball questions to Trump’s lawyers. I rolled a 450 series, slightly above my average.  My only double came in the final frame and helped the Engineers eke out series over Frank’s Gang.  Mark Garzella, disgusted with the Cubs, is switching loyalties to the White Sox.  I’m considering doing it, too, and told him I had been a Sox fan when former Philadelphia Phillies great Dick Allen was with the team. Jim Rennhack, a tall lefty, said he met Allen when invited to the Phillies’ spring training camp in Clearwater, Florida, right out of high school 50-some years ago. He was not offered a contract but received a check for $5,000.

Paul and Julie Kern, on the final leg of a 2500-mile road trip to visit their son in California, noticed a church sign near my favorite watering hole when I’d visit Midge, Pappy and Harriet’s, a haven for old hippies and the young at heart.

Pink Houses

“There’s winners and there’s losers

But they ain’t no big deal

’Cause the simple man, baby, pays the thrills

The bills and the pills that kill”  

John Mellencamp, “Pink Houses”

 John Mellencamp in 2009

Hoosier bard John “Cougar” Mellencamp from Seymour, Indiana, has represented the common man for nearly a half-century in such heartland songs as “Jack and Diane” and “Small Town.”  The compositions capture the utopian dreams of youth and, ultimately, coming to grips with life’s disappointments.  While in Voodoo Chili and now when jamming on acoustic guitar, Dave often sings “Pink Houses,” whose opening lines capture the bittersweet realities of everyday existence:

There's a black man with a black cat
Living in a black neighborhood
He's got an interstate running' through his front yard
You know, he thinks, he's got it so good
And there's a woman in the kitchen cleaning' up evening slop
And he looks at her and says:
“Hey darling, I can remember when you could stop a clock”

Born with spina bifida and married at 17 to a pregnant girlfriend, Mellencamp spent a few years in an alcohol and drug haze until foreswearing all such stimulants save for cigarettes. He told Rolling Stoneinterviewer David Fricke: “When I was high on pot, it affected me so drastically that when I was in college there were times when I wouldn't get off the couch. I would lie there, listening to Roxy Music,right next to the record player so I wouldn't have to get up to flip the record over. I'd listen to this record, that record. There would be four or five days like that when I would be completely gone.” Mellencamphad the name Johnny Cougar foisted upon him by a management company that otherwise refused to release his first album. He finally got to use his real name when the 1983 album “Uh-Huh” was released, containing “Pink Houses,” “Crumblin’ Down,” and “Authority Song.”  The latter Mellencamp called his version of “I Fought the Law.”  It contains these lyrics:

They like to get you in a compromising position
They like to get you there and smile in your face
They think, they're so cute when they got you in that condition
Well I think, it's a total disgrace

Realizing that “authority always wins,”the song’s hero asks a preacher to give him strength to win “Round 5”: 

He said: “You don't need no strength, you need to grow up, son”
I said: “Growing up leads to growing old and then to dying,
And dying to me don't sound like all that much fun”

On the local news came a report that traffic on the Frank Borman Expressway (80/94) was backed up for miles because a semi had overturned and spilled honey across all westbound lanes near the Illinois state line.  Next day’s NWI Times headline read: “After honey spill, traffic wasn’t sweet.”  Former Post-Trib headline writer Dean Bottorff could have done better. The mess would have affected my commute to IU Northwest had I not decided to spend the day playing duplicate at Banta Senior Center in Valparaiso at a game directed by Charlie Halberstadt.  Even though I hadn’t been there since last year, I recognized everyone except Norm and Mary Ann Filipiak, the eventual winners.  Mary Ann had buttons from regional events in Fort Wayne, Kalamazoo, and Chicago; Norm asked how many master points I had.  Only around 20, I replied.  I bid farewell to Terry Brendel, on his way to a 50th wedding anniversary cruise from Fort Lauderdale to Seattle.On the local news came a report that traffic on the Frank Borman Expressway (80/94) was backed up for miles because a semi had overturned and spilled honey across all westbound lanes near the Illinois state line.  

 H.B. Snyder

Dee Browne’s partner was Sharon Snyder, who recognized my name as being connected to IUN’s Calumet Regional Archives.  Sharon’s father-in-law was formerPost-Tribeditor/publisher H.B. Snyder.  The family had donated materials to the Archives, including travel columns Snyder’s wife had dispatched from locales all over the world.  Sharon had known Garrett Cope, whose parents had were cook and chauffeur for the man Mayor George Chacharis, his arch-enemy, facetiously called “The Duke of Dune Acres.”  In fact, her husband, Henry Burgess Snyder, Jr. (known as B.G.)  and Garrett had been childhood playmates.  Sharon was still in contact with Garrett’s widow Barbara and recently attended a music recital featuring Garret, Jr., whom Sharon referred to as G.G.  I told Sharon that my kids were in summer musicals that Garrett directed and that he did valuable community outreach work for IUN well into his eighties.  We all loved him.  He had nicknames for everybody; he called me Jim Bob.

above, Anna Robbins; below, Riley, Charlie, Mr. Pinkham, Kody, Jimbo

Sweet Anna Robbins passed away at age 85.  Anna played bridge at Banta Center three times a week and in Florida during winter months.  She often brought delicious strawberries and tomatoes to games when they were in season. Barb Walczak’s Newsletterstated that Anna was a winner on Jeopardy– I’d love to know the details. According to the obit, Anna loved to play golf and travel with daughter Kathy.  They visited Portugal a total of 17 times. The Newsletteralso contained remarks from Oregon-Davis students who participated in a duplicate game at Banta Center, including these from Riley A.:

    I enjoy bridge club because it is challenging and fun at the same time. I love doing math puzzles, so this was a great opportunity. I’m in eighth grade and I’m going to be playing bridge on our math club team for many years to come. I like how challenging it is and the way you have to focus. When I heard about our school having a math club, I was really excited and was the first person to join. It was really fun to have a team just dedicated to math and the card game of bridge. 

John Quincy Adams 

I submitted a generally positive review of Ted Galen Carpenter’s “Gullible Superpower: U.S. Support for Bogus Foreign Democratic Movements,” published by CATO Institute, a libertarian-leaning think tank.  In our unsettled time of Trump saber-rattling regarding events in Venezuela and Iran, Carpenter’s call for restraint is a welcome palliative.  He advocates that our policymakersheed the timeless advice of Secretary of State John Quincy Adams, who stated on July 4, 1821: “[America] is a well-wisher to the freedom and independence of all.  She is the champion and vindicator only of her own.”

Talking on the phone to Phil Arnold, I mentioned being in touch with our Upper Dublin classmate Dave Seibold.  He recalled that Seibold drove a Packard that was four different colors and that before a formal dance, he used shoe polish to darken a stripe on his sneakers because he didn’t own any dress shoes.  Dave replied: “

 Just can’t believe Phil would remember stuff like that.  Wow! The Packard was my father's car. It was new or less than 3 years old. My dad would get a new car every 3 to 3 1/2 years. It was Packard's top of the line with all the newest gadgets in its day... automatic load levelers, antenna that went up and down automatically, pop the trunk from the inside, etc. Two of the colors were black and yellow along with a lot of chrome. I will guess it was a 1957 or 1958?  The shoes had a white stripe on the outside of each foot. They were designed that way. My mother was not going to buy formal shoes that I would only wear one time so she put shoe polish over the white to try to hide it. Guess it did not work since Phil, and others, must have seen it and remembered.  Phil Arnold lived across the street from Wentz's Turkey Farm and Sue Schofield lived around the corner.  Phil, Bob Elliott, me and I tried to start a male cheer leading squad for the basketball games.

I recall the turkey farm.  Wally and Pam Illingworth’s dad worked there.

above, Family Cafe in Knox; below, Tyler Grocery by Kay Westhues

Photojournalist Kay Westhues thanked me for the latest Steel Shavings, which contains shots of old postage stamp vending machines that now dispense lottery tickets in Lake Station taprooms, including He Ain’t Here Lounge. Her photo-zine of “14 Places to Eat” in Hoosier small towns contains places in Kouts and her hometown of Walkerton.  Kay and I met at an oral history conference in Finland, where her brother Mike, a singer-songwriter and guitarist with the progressive rock band Wigwam, lived for many years.  I told her about my Finnish musical connection – Joe Davidow, whom Dave and I stayed with in Helsinki after the conference.

Robert Blaszkiewicz expressed these thoughts, as Dick Lugar was laid to rest:

    Some years back, in a meeting with Rep. Pete Visclosky, the subject turned to the work Sen. Richard Lugar was doing to secure nuclear weapons in the former Soviet republics. “He's doing God's work,” Visclosky said solemnly. It's a quote that stuck with me, an acknowledgement of service and the higher calling that politics could be. Years later, that quote came to mind as I read the email from Richard Mourdock's campaign announcing his primary challenge of Lugar. A passage quoted Mourdock saying something about Lugar not spending enough time in Indiana eating pork tenderloin sandwiches.I really had a visceral reaction to that. I mean, here was someone who was being slammed for not spending enough time in Indiana when in reality, he was spending time overseas, trying to make sure loose nukes didn't wind up in the hands of a terrorist or tyrant. You could easily argue that no U.S. senator did more to keep the world safe than Lugar did.
    Surely voters would see through this act, I thought. But then I began to see the polling turning against Lugar. And a majority of county GOP chairmen came out in favor of Mourdock. It was a clear signal that the priority for the party was partisanship, not accomplishment. When Lugar needed friends, few backed him. In fact, just about the only major Republican figure in Indiana who offered his endorsement was Gov. Mitch Daniels, who was soon to be out of politics. Mike Pence, Dan Coats, the rest of them didn't have the guts to stand up for the obviously better candidate.  Instead, Mourdock imploded on a debate stage in October and Joe Donnelly took the seat for the Democrats, taking the place of Indiana's longest serving senator.
    And that is why words from partisans like the vice president, who now praise Lugar in death, ring so hollow. The echoes of his statesmanship have long since faded, and this is what we're left with.

Beat

“You chose your words from mouths of babes got lost in the wood.
Cool junk booting madmen, street minded girls
in Harlem howling at night.
What a tear stained shock of the world,
you've gone away without saying goodbye.
         “Hey Jack Kerouac,” Ten Thousand Maniacs

1993 was an awesome year in music, with Flaming Lips, Smashing Pumpkins, Soul Asylum, Cracker, Pearl Jam, Goo Goo Dolls, and many more reinvigorating Rock and Roll.  There were great albums by Gin Blossoms, Nirvana, and Ten Thousand Maniacs, groups that would soon lose their leader through suicide or in the case of the Maniacs, Natalie Merchant going solo, claiming she didn’t want to be part of decision-making by committee. “Hey Jack Kerouac” has references to Beat writers Allen Ginsberg (“Howl”), a former a member of NAMBLA (North American Boy/Man Love Association) and William S. Burroughs (“Naked Lunch”) as well as his common law wife Mary, whom he shot in the head playing William Tell:

Allen baby, why so jaded?

Have the boys all grown up and their beauty faded?

Billy, what a saint they’ve made you

Just like Mary down in Mexico All Souls’ Day

 Horace Mann German Club, 1970; Milan Andrejevich front right

One of Milan Andrejevich’s Ivy Tech students Googled his name and found my mention of his Seventies History parties. From my blog Milan read of my visiting Fred Chary in a nursing home recuperating from an operation and wanted an update.  According to Diana, Fred is coming along nicely since I last saw him and would welcome a visit by his old student Milan. The 1971 Horace Mann grad is considering donating declassified documents to the Archives from when he worked for Radio Free Europe.  In that case I’d interview him about growing up in Gary and attending and later teaching at IUN.

South Bend photographer Kay Westhues (above), whom I met in Finland at the IOHA conference, sent me one of her photo-zines entitled “Drop Coins Slowly.”  It features awesome shots of old postage stamp vending machines she discovered in neighborhood taprooms, including three in Lake Station, that have been converted for the purpose of dispensing pull-tabs similar to lottery tickets that can be redeemed at the bar.  Westhues explained:

Pull-tab sales were legalized in 2008, in a move to help small taverns stay afloat during the recession.  Licenses were purchased and stamp machines resurfaced from the backroom or basement. Many of them were manufactured a half-century ago and showed significant signs of wear.  Sometimes they jammed easily or only had one ticket slot working. Modern, electronic pull-tab machines are also available, but people seem to prefer to take a chance on the malfunctioning, timeworn stamp machines.

Westhues photos at He Ain't Here Lounge and Ruthie's ("Small cans decorated with red, white and blue flag fabric and trimmed with lace held the losing tickets")

Accompanying the images are brief notes about Kay’s experiences at the various establishments.  After talking to a patron about stamp machines and her interest in artesian wells, the guy with unintentional irony said, “You must live a boring life.” At He Ain’t Here Lounge on Decatur St. in Lake Station, Westhues recalled that the owner’s son “wanted to hold my reflector umbrella to help with the photo, but began dancing and twirling it and forgot he had a job to do. A customer intervened and returned it to me.  As I left the bar, the son told me to forget about photographing stamp machines; I should interview the interesting people in the bar.”

On Sunday, despite 90 degree heat, I attended the final Miller Farmers Market of the season, which featured Tantrum playing a mixture of funk and punk with an occasional surprise thrown in, such as the Forties Duke Ellington classic “Don’t get Around Much Anymore,” covered by scores of artists ranging from The Ink Spots and Patti Page to The Coasters and Paul McCartney. When I put money in their tip jar, they told me to take a button.  Gene and Judy Ayers brought up Gary’s emergency school manager selling off a bust of Superintendent William A. Wirt.  Then I ran into Jack Weinberg and Valerie Denney, who want to donate more “treasures” to the Calumet Regional Archives.

After celebrating Angie’s dad John Teague’s birthday (number 68, and he still works in the mill) with a ham dinner and chocolate cake, I caught the end of the Little League World Series championship. Kids from Honolulu triumphed over South Korea.  It’s been a miserable week on Hawaii’s “Big Island” due to torrential rain from tropical storm Lane (I’ve taken kidding over the name), which caused major flooding and mud slides.  The Cubs completed a four-game sweep of the Reds, as Jason Heyward went 4 for 4. Players wore uniforms with nicknames on the back.  Heyward’s was “J-Hey.”  They are 6-0 in games Cole Hamels has started, and 6-0 since acquiring Daniel Murphy (“Murph”) on waivers. Dead from brain cancer is Senator John McCain, who requested that George W. Bush and Barack Obama speak at his memorial service.  The President was not invited. IUN flags are at half-staff.

High school classmate Dave Semibold (above) and wife Nicki are in Tanzania having a ball camping in the Serengeti.  Usually his posts are the result of fishing trips.  One reason I suggested naming our second son Dave because Seibold was such a cool dude.

IU’s “200: The Bicentennial Magazine” featured articles about team mascots, including Steve McShane’s contribution tracing IUN’s mascots from the Chiefs and the Blast to the present Redhawks.  Bloomington’s Hoosier teams have no symbolic figures, but, according to archivist Dina Kellams, former mascots included a racoon, various dogs, a bison and a red-bearded man wearing a cowboy hat called “Mr. Hoosier Pride” dropped after a single season due to complaints that he was offensive and ridiculous.

 Jackson kids at RailCats game in 2015

A three-day Michael Jackson birthday celebration commenced at IUN with four hours of music videos followed by a two-hour symposium presented by The Committee to Honor the Jackson family.  Watching people in Bergland Auditorium audience dancing in their seats as Michael strutted his stuff to “Smooth Criminal,” one realized what a unique talent he was and how much he is missed.

The category for “Final Jeopardy” in the high school teachers tournament was U.S. Cities, and nobody knew which one was named for a nineteenth century businessman in transportation, even though the clue mentioned that it is also the name of an Oscar-winning film. Answer: Fargo, North Dakota, named for William G. Fargo, one of the founders of the western portion of the Pony Express and a Northern Pacific Railroad director.

 Katlyn and Tyler

In addition to juggling work and school, Katlyn O’Connor had to deal with getting wisdom teeth pulled and boyfriend issues. No wonder she was frequently beat, as her “Ides of March” 2017 journal revealed:

  January 10:I absolutely love my daycare job and the kids in pre-kindergarten but am only making a little over minimum wage and need to start applying for other jobs. I also have to figure out if I want to go skydiving with my friend for her birthday. I am scared out of my mind just thinking about jumping out of a plane. 

  January 12:I applied to a few nursing homes as a part-time CNA. I have my license in that field and the increased pay should help pay bills. Tyler, my boyfriend of almost five years, decided we need a date night. I am so excited.  I’ll pretend none of this stress exists - just me and him and a good steak.

  January 15:I asked my boss for a raise due to another job offer and threatened to put in my two-week notice. It worked. I got the raise I wanted so I can stay at the daycare. I was so scared I was going to have to leave and then be miserable at the new job. 

 January 18:Today is probably the worst day of my life.  After we got into an argument, Tyler decided we need to take a break because we are falling out of love. I want to talk things through rather than throw away a five-year relationship. We were talking about getting married. My best friend Megan is coming over to comfort me but I don’t think anything she says will help me feel better. 

 February 1:Today was my first day of field experience in an elementary school. I always thought I wanted to teach Kindergarten, but now that I have been in third grade, I actually love it. Tyler and I have been talking every day and concluded that we need to try to fall back in love because we have been in the same boring routine for years now. We’ll start by having a date night once a week. 

 Feb. 3:Megan and I went out for wine night. She had never drunk wine and let me drive her Jeep home so she could puke out of the window. I decided we should stop at another bar on the way home and we ended up staying out until four a.m. She had to work the next day and doubt  she’ll make it. 

 Feb. 14:My IUN teacher cancelled class so I got to hand out Valentines to kids at the daycare.  They ate so much candy, I feel bad for their parents because they are on a sugar high.  Tyler surprised me by taking us to Outback Steakhouse for dinner. Even though we called ahead, there was an hour and a half wait. By agreeing to sit in the bar area, we did not wait very long. We bonded like we haven’t done in what seems like ages. 

  Feb. 24:Whirly ball is similar to bumper cars with lacrosse thrown in. I am going with Tyler and his family to celebrate his brother’s birthday. Ten people are on the court, five on each team. You have to drive your car across the court to shoot a wiffleball into the square net on the back board. Meanwhile, people are slamming into you and blocking you from shooting. After Whirly ball, we went to his aunt’s for pizza and left-over wings from Whirly ball. 

  March 1:I always come so close to getting straight A’s but fear I will not make it this semester. I am behind on a paper and have no earthly clue what is happening in my science book. I found out I have an extra set of wisdom teeth in my mouth that need to be removed. I scheduled the earliest appointment they had available, March 31. I hope this month goes by quickly because I am in so much pain. 

 March 7:After science class  Megan and I had margaritas at Chili’s plus chips and salsa. My strawberry margarita had a large amount of tequila in it.

 March 12:Tyler took me Olive Garden, my favorite, but we always get awful service there.

  March 14:I am planning on going to Las Vegas in two months with friends for my birthday for a full week. I am so excited. I want warm weather so bad.  Tyler and I are doing much better and I feel more in love with him than I ever have been. We have been spending more time together and enjoying each other’s company. Each week we go bowling at an alley in Griffith called Set Em Up.  It is really cheap because you keep your own scores. I am starting to catch on but Tyler still keeps track because we are very competitive. 

  March 15:Since the start of spring break, I have been working 11 hours a day.  We have been low on staff; they let too many people have days off so. My mom decided we need to start spending more time together and that I work too much. She didn’t go to college and does not understand how hard it is to manage 18 credit hours a semester. 

 March 16:Megan, Ariana, and I  went to our local bar to play pool and Friday night Bingo for free drinks. The night got cut short because my sister came to stay the night at my house with her six-year-old daughter. I did a lot of listening and wiping a lot of tears. She was with her boyfriend for ten years but he has been an alcoholic for the past four. 

  March 17:My sister and I took an early train to Chicago for the St. Patrick’s Day parade. There were police and ambulances everywhere; people were being put on stretchers and taken away because they got too drunk and fell over. There were beer bottles and trash everywhere in the beer garden;  this whole area was trashed. I had my sister by the arm and we started to walk through the crowd almost getting hit by bottles of vodka and Jameson every few steps. There was puke everywhere. A guy ran right into me slamming his bottle into my arm which hurt very bad and later bruised. He was too drunk to stand up straight. The parade was great but two hours long. 

  March 18:Tyler and I enjoyed a pajama day and watched TV.  I finally stopped feeling hungover and decided we should eat chicken and watch “Batman vs Superman: The Dawn of Justice.” It was three hours long but a great story.

  March 19:A new girl at work got fired because she never submitted her background check and finger prints. It turned out she had a warrant out for her arrest in Lake county due to theft. As a result, I had to work in the toddler class, mainly one-year-olds. I do not like it and can’t wait for them to switch the schedule.

  March 23:For parent art night we planned to make bunnies and chicks for the upcoming holiday, but nobody signed up. Tonight is Tyler and my five-year anniversary, but he has to work late. I am super tired anyway and just want to sleep. 

  March 24:My Saturday ritual is go to Sophia’s house of pancakes in Highland and then to Target and leave with more items than I intended to purchase. 

  March 25:I have been driving a Chevy Cruze, which I love but it is not that great in the snow being very low to the ground. Both my parents owned trucks and Jeeps, and I am used to taller vehicles.  A car dealer offered me a great deal, so goodbye old car and hello 2018 black Jeep Wrangler. It had zero miles on it when I left the lot and I am so excited!

 March 28:I was in such a rush this morning I backed my Jeep into my mother’s car. As soon as I heard the crunch I freaked out . Her front end was scrunched in and I began crying. Last night, my mom and I got into a huge fight and I had planned on packing up my things and staying somewhere else for a while. I told her what had happened and she started screaming and told me to leave so I went to work. 

  March 29:Tyler and I should be closing on a house in about a month. I am so excited. It has five bedrooms and two bathrooms and a fenced in yard with a pool. I cannot wait to get everything closed and move in. It was his parents’ but they are moving to Indianapolis. 

  March 30:Surgery day on my wisdom teeth. I I was nervous about the iv because of problems my mom had, but it went in my arm right away.  The procedure was done before I knew it but I was very swollen and in a lot of pain. I am going to rest for the rest of the day. 

 March 31:Swelling has gone down, and I am starting to feel a little better. Tomorrow is Easter, but I can barely eat a slushy with a spoon and could not handle lemon soup, my favorite.  I feel like my jaw has been smashed. 

 April 1:I hid Easter eggs before my niece showed up. Since today is also April Fools’ Day, I hid the golden egg in my bedroom. She found all the others and started freaking out until I got the golden egg. She is still mad because she does not understand what April Fools’ Day is. I ate a little piece of ham and mashed potatoes. 

  April 2:Back at work today, it is not yet 9 a.m. and I am in excruciating pain. My boss promised to do her best to let me go home early. I had Jell-O cups against my cheeks until noon, when the boss let me go home. Nothing helped, not the medicine nor ice packs. I couldn’t sleep all night until I took Advil and conked out for an hour. 

 April 3:At the dentist’s I got hooked up to an iv. After 90 minutes the dentist could finally get my mouth to open wide enough to look inside. It was definitely infected. He prescribed an antibiotic and sent me home to rest. 

  April 4:The swelling has finally gone down and the medicine is helping relieve the pain.  I made it for my whole shift at work but skipped class. I emailed my teacher who was understanding. 

 April 9:I have started eating solid foods and can brush my teeth for the most part. It is April but snowing outside!  Tyler called asking if his keys were in my car. Of course, darn it, and I had to drive home to give him his keys. My boss was not pleased but got over it.  

 April 14:I have finished my big assignments for the semester and am starting to stress free. My mouth is now officially healed and the pain gone. We move into our house on May 2.  Life is looking up.