When You Close Your Eyes

“I remember we learned about love
In the back of a Chevrolet
Well it felt so good to be young
Feels like yesterday.”
Night Ranger

Weird dreams, perhaps because I had heard Night Ranger’s “When You Close Your Eyes” right before bed – or maybe it was because I was subconsciously thinking up material for the Somewhat True Mystery of the Missing Tiara. LeeLee’s emails are jarring my memory of what she calls those “romantic never to be forgotten teenage years.” She complimented me of my good memory and said she “sort of remembered” Pam Tucker stealing Ricky Hoopes” away from her. Wonder what year that was? Pam was my first real girlfriend and a great kisser. Night Ranger’s Greatest Hits album used to be on heavy rotation in our house. “Sister Christian,” “You Can Still Rock in America,” and “Don’t Tell Me You Love Me” were big hits back when the boys were in high school. Once they went with me to a Sociology Party at Jack Bloom’s with Hans Rees and Jimmy Satkoski and we air-guitared to “Rock in America” at full volume until Jack came running. “You’re great, only not so loud,” he admonished. The chorus for “When You Close Your Eyes” repeats the back of the Chevy line, then goes, “No good for an old memory to mean so much today.” Nothing wrong to cherish old memories – in my case of the back of a 1956 Buick.

At lunch Sam Flint mentioned that SPEA (School of Public and Environmental Affairs) is looking to hire four new faculty for next year. I suggested that Lake County Sheriff Roy Dominguez, who is leaving office at the end of the year, would make an excellent adjunct lecturer. He agreed.

Oops. Got an email chastising me for putting a review on the blog that had not yet appeared in Choice magazine. Somehow the editor had come across it. I profusely apologized and expunged the sucker. The editor thanked me and said she appreciated my prompt action.

Ella Magee retired after 21 years as a custodian in the Library/Conference Center. At the reception Chancellor Lowe mentioned that his first official day on the job was exactly five months ago and said that Ella always beat him to work, had the lights on for him, kept his office neat and clean, and had a sunny disposition even though the sun wasn’t up yet. The Reverend Dwight Gardiner, formerly an IU Northwest police officer and later in charge of Physical Plant quoted Frederick Douglass and Malcolm X on the value of education and compared Ella to Janus, the Roman gate keeper, in keeping the university’s gate in sterling order.

Terry Helton is tired of being hassled on his job and hoping to survive the winter in Ennis, Montana. He hunts deer because the meat goes so well in his chili. Prostitution was legal in Montana until 1982 and brothels once lined both sides of the street in Terry’s neighborhood. He lamented, “Damn! Why couldn’t I have been here when all of this was going on?”

Nineteen year-old Missy Brush requested that we be Facebook friend. Big Voodoo Daddy and Marianne’s daughter, she posted a Halloween photo showing her in a long red wig, white gloves, and green mask, leotards, boots, and Neptune-type outfit. My grandson James is in one photo taken after a play performance in Hobart. She mentioned getting an amazing tattoo and promised pics “as soon as it stops scabbing. It looks kinda icky now.” She has 172 friends (many Andrean High School graduates), four of whom are mutual friends of yours truly (Angie, Dave, James and fellow ex-Voodoo Chili groupie Lorraine Todd-Shearer).

With LeeLee’s help I have brought the missing tiara tale to a resolution. I want the concluding chapter to be about everyone gathering at Wendy’s Georgia plantation. I’ll see how she and others think. Here’s the denouement: “Time flew by as LeeLee, Sissy, and the Captain drank by the fire and mellowed out. The three of them decided to call Jimmy, who had mentioned the tiara in his account of the reunion and had sat near Wendy both during the dinner and at breakfast the next day. He was delighted to hear from them and eagerly reminisced about old times. He retold the story of being center on the seventh grade football team and, playing without his glasses, hiking the ball in punt formation to the Captain rather than the kicker. Nonplussed, the Captain boomed a punt 40 yards down the field. Jimmy couldn’t resist mentioning seeing the Captain walk around in the men’s locker room in yellow silk underpants with tiger stripes. He also told about showing up for a party at LeeLee’s house a day early and her family nonchalantly inviting him in for dinner. The talk then turned to Molly. Jimmy recalled a marathon study session at Schady Acres for a Civics class final interrupted frequently by jokes about the teacher’s smelly cigar breath. He, Molly, and LeeLee sat together at a Biology class bench and would get each other giggling so openly that the teacher, Mr. Gebauer (Ga-boo-boo) threatened more than once to separate the ribald trio. Eventually the subject came back to the tiara. “Sounds like we might be talking about more than one,” Jimmy concluded. “Maybe you should call Wendy and get a description of the one she wore and whether it was the original.” All agreed that was a good idea, but the hour was late and the case would have to wait.

“With the snow continuing to fall, Sissy brought out sleeping bags, and they all fell asleep by the fire. In the middle of the night the Captain awoke with a start, still mulling over the facts of the case. When he closed his eyes, he imagined Wendy standing proudly with her classmates for the reunion group photo and decided that nobody in the room would have been so cruel as to have taken her tiara. A stranger must have done it. In the morning the Captain awoke to the sound of his cell phone ringing. A friend working security at the Philadelphia Airport informed him that four men had been arrested for pilfering luggage during the past few months. Perhaps the tiara might have been among the stolen valuables. The Captain hoped to interrogate the men and contact pawnshops where they might have taken their goods to sell. After Sissy served a very Vermont-like breakfast of fruit, yogurt, and granola, he called Wendy with the news and to get a better description of the tiara. She was delighted with the newest developments and invited all three down to her Georgia plantation. If the tiara was found and she was needed in Philadelphia, she could do that, too, after the holidays.

“What Wendy did not tell the Captain at this time was that she once had had three tiaras. The 1960 crown had indeed been with her for over 50 years and still resided in her China closet. Ten years ago, her husband had given her an expensive replica that she had worn at the reunion and was now missing. Her grandkids had bought a third for her sixty-fifth birthday, along with a Snow White wand, and insisted she wear it while she blew out 65 candles. She looked up, and all her granddaughters – her little princesses – were wearing tiaras. She had sent this tiara to Sissy in recognition that Molly was truly worthy of a crown. In fact, in the Homecoming Queen vote, Wendy was not the top vote-getter among seniors but received a plurality after the tallies of juniors and sophomores were counted. Younger sister Pam was also voted onto the court. Even though Wendy won fair and square, she thought Molly deserved belated recognition, too, but had felt self-conscious about taking credit for the gesture so did it anonymously.

“LeeLee and the Captain talked all the way back to North Hills. They relived reunion highlights – DJ Fred spinning golden oldies, David S and his wife showing off Arthur Murray dance moves, Jimmy and Phil organizing a stroll line, Barbara looking stunning in high heels and platinum blonde hair, Mary D doing Motown moves as her preacher husband looked on, the Captain himself accepting an invitation to slow dance with Marianne T. They talked about others besides Molly who had passed away – wild Bill McAfee and wilder Dick Garretson, Judy “Crazy” Otto and athletic Clara Rogers, beautiful Charmayne Staton and dour Charley Thomas. Characters all. LeeLee told Percy, as everyone knew him in school, about her husband Bob, a teacher who emigrated to the U.S. with his family from Ireland and wrote a memoir about his experiences, including being ridiculed when he went to a school in Detroit dressed in clothes that classmates found to be weird. Weirdness was something LeeLee and many of her classmates worried about back in that Fifties era of conformity. Was that something the Captain worried about as well, she wondered aloud. He replied that what he and his buddies most feared were racist cops. Away from North Hills one had to be on the alert because you never knew, he said, if a cracker might be lurking down the road. With that, the Captain gave out a hearty cackle to ease the tension. Before the two parted company LeeLee couldn’t resist asking the Captain if he still wore outlandish jockey shorts. With a wink he replied, “It all depends on what you mean by outlandish.” He promised to keep her abreast of new developments in the case of the missing tiara.

“It didn’t take the Captain long to break the case. The second pawnshop he visited had a tiara. The owner recalled, “When a guy brought it to me, I about laughed him out of the shop. It looked like something you’d buy at a dollar store.” The gems really sparkled though, so the owner took a chance and offered 25 dollars. The hunch paid off, and the tiara was appraised at ten times that amount based on the stones alone. The owner had been tempted to take the tiara apart but decided to wait a couple months. What luck! The Captain took several photos, gave the manager a down payment to put a hold on it, and called Wendy with the good news. Thanks to the electronic wonders of the Internet, Wendy quickly confirmed that it was a perfect match. She wired the captain a money order to compensate him for his time and trouble and to purchase the tiara and reiterated that she’d cooperate with the authorities to punish the thieves if they needed her. Then she made one more pitch for the Captain to deliver the tiara in person. “Bring LeeLee and Sissy and anyone else you want, I’ll have a limo waiting at the airport to drive you to my estate. In fact, I’ll invite everyone in our class who wants to come for a party. I have plenty of room. After all, I live on a plantation.” The Captain said he’d think it over. When he called LeeLee to tell her that the case was solved and mentioned Wendy’s offer, she said, “Why not?”

Bowled mediocre – plenty of strikes but too many splits – but won two of the quarter pots for tenth strike and ended the night converting a 3, 6, 7, 10 split. Engineers won a game and 83 year-old captain Bill Batalis was great. Talked with a fellow named Brian Pleasant (isn’t that a pleasant name?), who was on Phil’s Portage soccer team. On TV Purdue beat Virginia Tech, which made my teammates happy, but IU lost its first basketball game of the season to Boston College, finally facing a decent team in the Big Ten/ACC Challenge.

Endgame

Two volumes of Magill’s Literary Annual arrived containing 2,000-word reviews of the best 200 books of the year, including mine on “Sweet Thunder” (a biography of boxer Sugar Ray Robinson by Wil Haygood) and “Passing Strange” (Martha Sandweiss’ opus about geologist Clarence King living a double life as a black Pullman porter). I corresponded with Sandweiss about whether she thought King’s fascination with black women sprang from his childhood memories of a devoted nursemaid; she doubted it although she noted the theory had been put forward by another biographer. I came upon interesting reviews on books about Lincoln, Darwin (the biologist and the “Great Emancipator were born on the same date, and their mutual hatred of slavery changed the world), Ted Kennedy (author of the memoir “True Compass,” who is on the cover, 1848 (year of Revolution), and the late, great John Updike’s poems in a volume called “Endgame.” Starting when he turned 70 in 2002, he’d sum up his life in sonnet form. Aging had long been one of his major themes. Writing about a harrowing plane ride, he concluded: “Age I must but/die I’d rather not.” In 2007 he penned these lines hoping his talent wouldn’t dim: “Be with me, words, a little longer/ you have given me my quitclaim in the sun.” He moved to Tuscan, played much golf, and noted seeing skeletons of dead cactuses that stand in “mute mobs” in the desert. A volume of Updike’s short stories called “My Father’s Tears” also got reviewed. Reviewer Laurence Mazzeno wrote that Updike “approached his craft with a sociologist’s understanding of middle America, a psychologist’s insights into the workings of the human mind, a theologian’s perception of humankind’s struggle with faith and morals, and a poet’s gift for language.” Concerning Updike’s tendency toward personal musings, Mazzeno quotes from his 1969 poem “Midpoint”: “Of nothing but me, me/ . . . / I sing, lacking another song.” Sort of like me. If this blog should morph into another Shavings, I’ll subtitle it “Wretched Excess.”

Thursday’s retirement reception was not just for Chancellor Bergland but also honored psychological counselor Ray Fontaine and photography professor Gary Wilk, two good men. A Sixties divinity school grad, Ray was a sex therapist before coming to IUN. Starting off with puns involving Freud and Jung, retired Sociology professor Bob Lovely quipped that he once asked Ray for advice and, emulating Cher’s reaction to Nicolas Cage saying he loves her in “Moonstruck,” he slapped him and said, “Snap out of it.” I lamented losing my favorite cafeteria lunch companion, although I said I hoped he’d follow my example and return frequently. While most faculty talk shop and grouse at the administration, Ray preferred more elevated conversations. Once, at the other end of the table from me, he heard me mention theologian Paul Tillich, got up, sat down next to me, and asked, “What was that about Tillich?” In his remarks Ray was gracious, witty, and urbane and jokingly thanked Neil Goodman for naming a Echo Garden sculpture (“Ray”) after him.

I was tempted to mention Gary Wilk’s tour of duty in Vietnam. He was a cook and out of harm’s way for 12 months so he re-upped for three more so he’d be eligible for an early discharge immediately thereafter. Then came the enemy’s Tet Offensive, and Gary found himself under fire virtually every day. His Vietnam experience convinced Gary to pursue a career in photography rather than settle for a more “practical” career path. His Fine Arts colleagues Neil Goodman and David Klamen covered most of what I would have said, specifically how patient he is with students and how great his book Steel Giants, which he did with Steve McShane, is. Gary got an email of congratulations from Paul Kern, who recalled the interesting conversations when they bumped into each other in the Tamarack Hall men’s room.

Chancellor Bruce, more composed than on Tuesday, was presented with a lamp and a rocking chair as well as the traditional clock. I told about how ten years ago when I was in the hospital he called me “Jimmy.” I said that my good friends call me Jimbo right before our phone connection went dead. He called me back, referred to me as Jimbo, and has been calling me Jimbo ever since. Executive Secretary Mary Lee mentioned how compassionate Bruce was after Vice Chancellor of Student Affairs Ernest Smith’s stroke, visiting him in the hospital and keeping him on as a trusted adviser. Vernon Smith recalled how Bruce called him his first week on the job and wanted a tour of Gary. Bruce was a stickler for things starting on time, and Neil Goodman had a funny story about being late to a social function because he put his kid’s bike in the trunk of the car on his wife’s dress on the way to a sitter with such disastrous results that they had to stop and buy a new one, causing them to be 45 minutes late. Medical School director Pat Bankston talked about going to Country Lounge on Friday afternoons with Bruce and other campus bigwigs who called themselves “The Sharks.” One day longtime state representative belittled their pretensions, saying, “You should be called the guppies.” Country Lounge has long been a Region watering hole. Bangston quipped that one former chancellor picked up a liver disease there. Back 30 years ago Chancellor Danelo Orescanin put in two-hour lunches mingling with area politicians and talking up the university. Often upon returning to campus, he’d ask his secretary to decipher the phone numbers and messages on his place mat. Dan could hold his liquor and had, as one area politician put it, a “good line of bullshit.”

I got a thank you card from Lisa Hartlund for my Gary book. Her dad grew up on Tyler Street and enjoyed the references to his old neighborhood. I also sent a copy to Anne Balay, who wanted to read my account of “Women of Steel” who fought against sexist practices in the mill after women were hired in large numbers following the 1974 Consent Decree.

Fred Chary gave me on videotape a documentary about the Philadelphia Flyers teams of the Seventies, the co-called “Broad Street Bullies.” It brought back memories of enforcer Dave “Dutch” Schultz and “Golden Boy” Bobby Clarke. I fell asleep before the conclusion of the NBA Finals game seven. I didn’t care whether Los Angeles or Boston won. The first half was sloppy and low scoring, with both teams shooting poorly. I found out from all-night SCORE jock Les Grobstein (“the Grobber”) that L.A. prevailed, giving Kobe Bryant his fifth ring (one more than Shaq, he exulted) and Coach Phil Jackson his eleventh. Good news: the Cubs, White Sox and Phillies all won.

David and Angie held a joint birthday party for James (10) and Rebecca (8) at Lisa’s Gymnastics. Seventeen kids had fun playing with the equipment. Afterwards I attended a retirement party at Ray Fontaine’s snazzy place in LaPorte. I gave him volume 1 of Magill’s Annual (my two pieces are in volume 2). I talked with several of his golfing buddies, as well as faculty members Neil Goodman, Vinod K. Vinodogopal, Michele Stokely, Iztok and Stela Hozo. Stela was wearing a black Purdue t-shirt that her daughter gave her; I had on an IU Northwest shirt I got for working the university booth at the Porter County Fair. Former colleague Roberta Wollons was a surprise guest, flying in from Boston. Chuck Gallmeier recalled how in a Faculty Org meeting I warned the chancellor that if he tried to ram through a 12-hour faculty teaching load he’d have a revolt on his hands. I heard through the grapevine that Bruce later mocked my remarks, saying to lackeys, “Ooh, I’m really scared.” He didn’t pursue the 12-hour load for everyone, however.

We’ve been without electricity since a storm came through on Friday. Ron Cohen is in the same boat. Bummer! We spent all day Sunday at Dave and Angie’s. Son Phil and granddaughter Victoria had come in for the birthday party, and we played board games and watched the U.S. Open. Dave’s former band mate Hans Rees stopped by with his two kids, one of whom is named Graham, and mentioned that thanks to me he became a Graham Parker fan and recently got to meet the British singer (“Passion is no Ordinary Word” is the best song ever) at a concert. Toni and I saw him at Chicago’s Vic Theater with Terry and Kim Hunt, and he ended with a smokin’ Sam Cooke medley. Tiger really sucked and still finished only four strokes back. Ditto for Mickelson. Irishman Graeme McDowell was the first non-American to win since 1970. Toni stayed the night, but I went home, lit a couple candles, and went to bed at nightfall.

Monday A.M.: still no electricity and I had to drive through another storm to take Becca to dance class. I called the National Lakeshore and the secretary to the superintendent assured me they had contacted NIPSCO about our not having power. Before picking Becca up Angie brought Victoria to the Archives. Tori loved my 27-inch computer screen and showed me how I could have things on YouTube fill up the entire screen. She played the musical video “Boom Boom Pow” by Black Eyed Peas and “Fireflies” by Owl City. Sheriff Dominquez brought interesting photos in for us to scan, and then I just got to the cafeteria before closing for a hot dog before running off to Best Buy to pick up a computer that Toni bought yesterday. George Bodmer was at the cafeteria and mentioned that his father-in-law was over for Father’s Day, saw one of Toni’s drawings called “Four Seasons,” and thought it was great. George is teaching a drawing class once a week to homeless people.

Monday P.M.: Toni and I took the computer and two TVs to the condo. Before going to Angie’s for tacos I drove home and came upon four utility company trucks working along County Line Road. I arrived home to find a light on. Yes! The stove clock indicated that the power had come back on less than five minutes before.