Kids Are All Right

I took Toni to see the R-rated “The Kids Are All Right,” which lived up to its hype, we both agreed, as the best movie of the summer. Annette Bening (Nic) and Julianne Moore (Jules) are very realistic as lesbians whose teenage son Laser and daughter Joni (named by Nic for Joni Mitchell) get in touch with Paul (Mark Ruffalo), their common sperm donor, a really cool co-op farmer and restaurant owner, an action that upsets the family dynamics in a variety of ways. Jules is trying to start a landscape business and goes to work on Mark’s backyard. There’s a great scene where she is bent over and he admires her thong panties under her work clothes. They end up in bed on her initiative, which, when discovered, threatens his burgeoning relationship with the kids. I understand that some lesbians (although not my friend Anne) don’t like that the two women like to watch gay male porn in bed to get aroused or the heterosexual affair (when Jules first takes a look at Paul’s penis, she makes a sound as if to say, “Where have you been all of my life?”). Some think Nic is portrayed as the heavy, but all the main characters are portrayed sympathetically, albeit with flaws. Joni has a friend who acts like a slut and Laser hangs around with someone who is reckless, out of control, and insulting if Laser questions his judgment. Both “kids” in the end resist being mere followers, and the implication is that their transition into adulthood, though never easy, will go all right and that at some point Paul will come back into their lives.

Watched the Coen brothers’ zany 1987 comedy “Raising Arizona” on cable. A young childless couple, H.I. and Edwina McDunnough (Nicolas Cage and Holly Hunter), kidnap one of Nathan Arizona’s quintuplets. When asked by a policeman to describe the kids’ pajamas, Arazona says, “I don’t know – they were jammies! They had yodas ‘n’ shit on ’em.” Questioned by a suspicious FBI agent why he changed his name from Nathan Huffheins, the furniture storeowner says, “Would you stop at a store called Unpainted Huffheins?” My favorite line of Nathan’s: “If a frog had wings, it wouldn’t bump its ass a-hoppin’.” Pure Coen brothers. I also caught the end of “The Insider,” about a tobacco industry whistle blower who comes under attack and how CBS News caves in and shelves the planned “60 Minutes” segment out of fear of a lawsuit. Christopher Plummer does a nice imitation of Mike Wallace.

At a White House function celebrating the onset of Ramadan, Obama declared that Muslims have the same religious freedom as anybody else, including the right to build a mosque on private property near “ground zero,” the site of the 9/11 tragedy. New York City Mayor Michael Bloomberg, who had been my choice for Barack’s running mate, applauded Obma’s “clarion defense of the freedom of religion.” Predictably Republicans, led by Sarah Palin, are trying to make political hay over the issue. The President didn’t actually say whether or not he favors the mosque being at that location. Palin is demanding a clarification, but Obama has emphasized that it is a local matter. As John Updike wrote in “Terrorist,” “racism, a dozing giant, lulled by decades of liberal singsong, [is] stirred anew.” The novelist was referring to WASP airlines passengers reacting to being stopped and searched by black and Hispanic TSA inspectors. One of the main characters in “Terrorist” is from Philadelphia and recalls with nostalgia the display windows in Wanamaker’s department store and Frihofer bread. One sign of decline: pencils made in China with useless erasers. Updike paraphrases Ralph Waldo Emerson’s comment on dying, that at least you’re done with the dentist.

Won two of four board games and might have triumphed in Stone Age but for a stupid move. Tom and Dave play on line, while I am still a novice. We opened Brass, set in England at the beginning of the Industrial Revolution, and played half a practice game. Players build such things as cotton mills and coalmines and then try to sell their products. I was totally confused but kept the game so I could read the rules. On YouTube I found a two-part instruction video. The title of the game is from the English expression, “Where there’s muck there’s brass (meaning money).”

The Northwest Indiana Times ran my “Maria’s Journey” article as the lead story in Sunday’s “Lifestyle” section, using three photographs, including the cover photo. In another Maria is flanked by her ten offspring with a photo of her late husband Miguel in the background. A headshot of Maria appeared on page one of the front section along with a blurb on where readers can find the full story. At my suggestion they included excerpts from IU historian John Bodnar’s introduction. The key to Maria’s measure of success, we both agreed, was her resilience. Ray and Trish Arredondo were thrilled and bought multiple copies. Thanks to The Times’ website people can comment and discuss it. Karen T wanted to know why the children spoke Spanish at home. I replied: “On page 63 of “Maria’s Journey” the Arredondos write: “Miguel insisted that the children speak only Spanish in his presence” because of his dream “that he and his family would eventually return to his homeland.”

I learned that FACET founder Eileen Bender suffered a fatal heart attack. Her daughter found out from my blog that I had interviewed her last December and requested a copy. Aaron agreed to burn two DVDs for the family.

I ran into former vice-chancellor of academic affairs Kwesi Aggrey in the library/conference center hall along with his wife and youngest son. After a warm hug, Kwesi mentioned that they had placed flowers at Robin Hass Birky’s gravesite and that they were headed to Savannah Center to take photos at the Robin Hass Birky Women’s Studies seminar room. He has hired several IU Northwest faculty or administrators since taking a job in North Carolina and I jokingly asked whether he was on a recruiting trip. He told me he received the “Retirement Journal” Steel Shavings issue I sent him. In it he comes off smelling like a rose. In five or six years when our new chancellor reties, Kwesi would be the perfect successor.

“Scott Pilgrim vs. the World” with Michael Cera was so terrible I walked out and into “Eat Pray Love,” which was very slow moving until the Julia Roberts character hooked up with Javier Barden (Felipe) in Bali. I wouldn’t recommend it, but perhaps any movie would pale after “The Kids Are All Right.” I almost chose to see it a third time when “Scott Pilgrim” took a turn toward the ridiculous.

Chichen Itza

I have returned from a fifteen-day trip to California and the so-called Mayan Riviera near Cancun, Mexico. Those all-inclusive stays at ocean-front five-star hotels such as the Grand Bahia Tulum are everything that they are made up to be – great food, free drinks, no tipping, and shows every evening, not to mention perfect weather for January and daily walks along the Gulf of Mexico beach. Most impressive was a visit to the Mayan ruins at Chichen Itza, featuring the incredible thousand year-old pyramid honoring the Mayan sun god Kukulkan (feathered serpent). Our knowledgeable guide, who joked that some tourists call the site “chicken ‘n’ pizza”) pointed out the amazing mathematical and astronomical calculations that went into designing it. For example, during the spring and autumn equinoxes the afternoon sunlight causes seven isosceles triangles to form near the pyramid's main stairway imitating the body of a serpent that creeps downwards until it joins the huge serpent's head carved in stone at the bottom. Other notable sites include a ball field (the game ended after one goal after which there was a ritual beheading as sacrifice to the gods) and columns where market was held. While in Los Angeles with friends Kate and Jim Migoski, we stayed with their daughter Suzanne, her husband Kris Kallin, and their delightful kids William and Julia. William has a really winning grin, and Julia has remarkably penetrating eyes that appear to take in everything that is happening.

Did some reading during the vacation, thanks to finding “The Great Gatsby” in Kris and Suzi’s bookcase (was even more impressed with Fitzgerald than the first time I read it) and “The House of God,” a book about interns set in the 1970s that was satirical and pretty raunchy. My favorite novelist John Updike compared it to Joseph Heller’s “Catch-22.” Author Samuel Shem (real name Stephen Begman) is someone Kris knows personally.

Unlike a year ago, when we arrived back from California to discover that the furnace had stopped, all was well on our Maple Place hill even though a fire had destroyed the house across the ravine from us. A dozen or so phone messages awaited, including updates from the Arredondos and Sheriff Dominguez on our book projects. While we were gone, son Dave had been named Lake County teacher of the year, and we will be able to go to a reception in his honor to be held at the Horseshoe Casino (it will be my first visit to one out the Region boats).

At the university more than 350 emails were waiting to be read and/or deleted, including New York Times updates on the catastrophic earthquake in Haiti and the shocking loss of Ted Kennedy’s Massachusetts Senate seat to Republican Scott Brown (once named America’s sexiest man by Cosmopolitan magazine). I got invitations to join several Facebooks, with the message that so-and-so wants to add me to their list of friends. The most touching email came from the parents of Robin Hass Birky, who died last year when a truck plowed through a red light and crashed into her car. They must have heard that I mentioned her in my retirement journal and requested a copy. Her mom wrote, “ I spend time looking up things about her as it gives me peace knowing her efforts in life.” In my letter I directed her to the Index. In a section entitled “Grieving,” I wrote that on September 2, 2008, Vice Chancellor Kwesi Aggrey set aside two hours where people could share thoughts over her death and how many people could barely control their emotions. Kim Hunt emailed me that day that “Robin was one of my academic inspirations. She motivated us to enjoy and want to learn more about our language, just as you motivated us to enjoy and learn more of our history.” On September 3 I wrote how I passed where Robin had died on my way to the packed service. In church Mary Russell called her “our Rockin’ Robin.” Kwesi sang a Ghanian song in her honor that was unbelievably moving. DeeDee Ige mentioned that when she went back to teaching, Robin gave her a book. Inside was a photo of the three of us dancing at my retirement party (it’s one of three photos in volume 40 that Robin is in) and a note telling her to keep joy in her life. Before going to the cemetery the funeral procession wove past the Valparaiso firehouse, where Robin’s husband worked, the firemen were out front at attention. Back at school was this email from a stunned Paul Kern: “Robin’s son Cole played basketball for Morgan Township. I’d check the bos scores to see how he did and mention it to Robin. The heartfelt tributes were deserved. What a lot of enthusiasm snuffed out.”

High school classmate Gaard Murphy Logan reported that the Tacoma Art Museum where she is a docent has an exhibit featuring animals in artwork and that she and hubby Chuck “did our first motorcycle ride of the year last week. It was sweet to be back on the road.” She had been ill but claims to be 97 percent well and back to jogging and visits to the gym. I replied in part: “I checked out the information about the animal exhibit on the Tacoma Art Museum’s website. Sounds like April 25 will be fun with folks dressed in the favorite animal outfits. There’s a guy on our campus who often dresses as a cat with whiskers, a long tail, and mittens. He is a ‘furry,’ part of a cult group partial to the novel ‘Watership Down.’ Let me know if you see any furries while you are a docent.” A telecommunications professor from Bloomington, Ronald Osgood, who used some material from my “Brothers in Arms” Shavings magazine, wants to send me a DVD he did called “My Vietnam Your Iraq: Eight Families, Two Wars,” Sounds intriguing. Got this email, which I passed on to Dave: “This is Aaron, the bass player from Drena's jam night. Thanks for the kind words on your blog. The kind words should be coming from me. David did a great job. I wish to jam with him again real soon. It was very invigorating.”

At bowling rolled three games in the 170s, well above my average. Relaxing at home with a quart of Miller High Life, started planning my February 16 appearance before the Portage Historical Society. I’ve decided to have some 17 people read excerpts from my oral history of Portage (Shavings, volume 20, 1991) covering the years from World War I through the 1920s. In an article entitled “Portage in Three Stages of Its Growth,” former student (and good friend) Bruce Sawochka called the time between the 1880s and the 1945s “The Quiet Years” to distinguish it from the previous half-century (the pioneer period) and the past half-century (in his words, “the Big Bang”).

Autograph Party & Pep Rally

I have been sending out email notices for the Pep Rally and Autograph Party next Tuesday November 3 at IU Northwest’s Savannah Center between 5 and 6:45 and prior to the Lady Redhawks’ first basketball game of the season against Grace College. Heard back from Carson Cunningham, who has a PhD in sports history and coaches at Andrean High School. Former student and Gary police officer Todd Cliborne said he’d try to be there. I mention in volume 40 that he inquired about teaching possibilities in SPEA and for volume 33 (on the year 2000 in the Calumet Region) wrote movingly about children drowning in Lake Etta in Black Oak. A Californian got confused during a sudden thundershower and drove her car into the water. After good friend Bill May was murdered senselessly in his condo in Miller, Todd spotted the stolen car and apprehended the killer.

Steve helped me put up display cases in the Conference Center lobby and in Savannah next to the bookstore. We put up flyers and Jeff Manes’s SALT article plus displayed both the front of the magazine and the back, which has photos of my final class in Summer I, 2007, and members of the History and Philosophy Department at one of my retirement parties. I also opened a third book, in one case to an account of the September 2007 flood that closed the campus for two weeks and for the second display the two-page spread includes photos of my son Dave and other members of the band Voodoo Chili on one page and a photo of Robin Hass Birky and a section called “Grieving.” On August 29 I wrote: “Campus news flash: Assistant Vice Chancellor Robin Hass Birky just died, her car hit by a truck that ran a red light as she turned onto Route 49 on her way to a meeting in Indy. She was a friend of the History department, Jerry especially, her academic specialty being Medieval Literature. Went over to the cafeteria to be with colleagues and ran into her boss, Kwesi Aggrey, who was too shook up to talk. Robin danced with me to Voodoo Chili at Leroy’s Hot Stuff and on campus after my retirement ceremony. Everyone loved her. I’m numb.”

Three days later came this entry: “Vice Chancellor Aggrey set aside two hours where people could grieve over Robin’s death as well as the recent passing of George Adair and Doc Lukas. Like a Quaker meeting there were periods of silence and short testimonies. I started things off with brief personal anecdotes about each. Vesna Kilibarda could barely control her emotions, and some others were too shaken up to speak. Charlotte Reed mentioned what a comfort Robin was when people close to her passed away. Roberta Wollons came into my office, having traveled from Boston to attend the wake and burial service. She remembered when the three of us danced to a Rolling Stones song at Leroy’s. Kim Hunt wrote: ‘Robin was one of my academic inspirations. She motivated us to enjoy and want to learn more about our language, just as you motivated us to enjoy and want to learn more of our history.’”

On September 3 I wrote: “Passed where Robin died on the way to the packed church service and got choked up. Had been at the intersection many times delivering Shavings to Home Mountain Press. Trucks roar by at 60 mph and commonly run the light. In church Mary Russell called her “our Rockin’ Robin.” Kwesi sang a Ghanaian song in her honor that was unbelievably moving. DeeDee Ige mentioned that when she went back to teaching, Robin gave her a book. Inside was a picture of the three of us dancing at my retirement party and a note telling her to keep joy in her life. That broke me up. Two former students spoke of how tough but caring she was. Son Cole just finished basic training and wore a military uniform. Before going to the cemetery the funeral precession wove past the Valpo firehouse, where Robin’s husband worked, and firemen were out front at attention. Stunned, Paul Kern wrote: “Robin’s son played basketball for Morgan Township. I’d check the box scores to see how he did and mention it to Robin. The heartfelt tributes were deserved. What a lot of enthusiasm snuffed out.”

The flood started on September 14 as a remnant of Hurricane Ike and caused areas near the Little Calumet River to be inundated, including the Tri-State (Interstate 80-94). I had some of Trish and Ray Arredondo’s photos in my office for the book project on Maria Arredondo plus the latest version of the manuscript on my computer and on a CD. Couldn’t even get near campus until four days later. On September 18 I wrote: “IUN is still flooded but parked at 35th and Jefferson and got in my office, jumping over numerous puddles before a campus policeman let me in a side door. If anything, things have worsened because nearby communities are pumping floodwater into the Little Cal. It is obvious that the campus won’t open for quite a while. A family in Griffith lost a home to the recent tornado and now their hotel quarters are under water.” Five days later, told I could go into my office for ten minutes, I stayed two hours. Actually the History offices weren’t flooded at all, but the Theatre got it bad. A photo that I used taken by Chris Sheid shows IU president Michael McRobbie investigating the damage, escorted by Physical Plant director Otto Jefimenko.