Moving to Miller

“A viable neighborhood is a community: and a viable community is made up of neighbors who cherish and protect what they have in common,” Wendell Berry

In the 1970s the entire IUN History faculty save for Dune Acres resident Jim Newman – John Haller, Fred Chary, Paul Kern, Rhiman Rotz, Ron Cohen, and myself - moved to Gary’s Miller district, joining department founder Bill Neil and numerous other colleagues. including Jack Gruenenfelder (Philosophy), George Thoma (English), Abe Mizrahi (Math), Bill Reilly (Business), and Les Singer (Economics), to name just a few.  With many wealthy Millerites leaving for Munster and other suburbs in the wake of desegregation, houses became available at reasonable prices, even those near Lake Michigan.  African-American administrators such as Ernest Smith moved there, too.  Smith’s neighbors initially were standoffish, perhaps concerned about property values, as had adversely affected Glen Park closer to campus.  In the spring of 1971 white liberals, including IUN’s Judy Eichhorn, formed the Miller Citizens Corporation (MCC) to encourage stability both by welcoming black families and discouraging panic selling.  The MCC set up a “hot line” to dispel false rumors and convinced the city government to ban “for sale” signs.

Post-Trib columnist Jeff Manes wrote about Angela McCrovitz, a Gary native who claims she was born in the same hospital on the same floor as Michael Jackson.  Her grandfather was the first owner of Flamingo’s Pizza.  Recently Angela returned from South Carolina to operate the Chart House restaurant in Miller. The building used to be a Catholic convent.  Angela said, “Our upstairs dining area is where the nuns slept in cots all in a row.”  Her place was once the Baker House, so Angela kept the statue out front but gave him an anchor, oar, lantern, and old keys.

Emmanuel Lopez interviewed Davetta M. Haywood, who lived in Gary for more than 50 years. She recalled:

    My father, Roosevelt Haywood, was part of the migration of African Americans who came north because the steel industry was booming.  Finding out that there was a lot of racism in the mills, he decided to go back to school and then opened one of the largest African American agencies in Gary, Haywood Insurance.  He’d work six days a week and go to the office on Sundays to clean up.  My father was also a councilman-at-large for two terms.  

  I was one of the first students to attend West Side High School.  It was a beautiful school, but on the third day of school, a young man was shot and killed.  It opened in 1968 when I was a sophomore, and I graduated in 1971.  I was in the senior class play directed by Mr. Boswell, “ The Day of Absence,” based on a town whose African Americans suddenly left.  I was a phone operator.  The play was so good that we performed it all over Northwest Indiana, including Michigan City Elston H.S.

  After I become an adult, my husband and I moved to Miller, a beach community.  I became a member of the MCC, created to prevent white flight from that area. It kept a good core group of white citizens in Miller.  We wanted to work with our neighbors instead of pushing them away.  I loved Miller and stayed there 30 years until my property taxes quadrupled and the city services deteriorated.  I now live in Hobart, and if I want to dispose of a couch, someone from the city will come pick it up.  In Gary, ii would sit in front on my house for a long time.

    After I split with my husband, I worked at Bethlehem Steel for 29 years.  The mills paid really good money; my job was to test chemical and steel samples.  There was a lot of racism at that job.  I would walk by a group of white workers and they would think I was a tramp.  If black guys saw me talking to the white guys, they would say, “Oh, she’s a white lover.”   Bethlehem Steel folded because of mismanagement, so I didn’t get my pension.  Had I been there 30 years, I would have gotten some of it.

Michalae Dunlap’s mother, LaVelva Burks-Gibson (above), came to Gary in 1966 by rail because her dad, David Burks, had taken a job with U.S. Steel.  Hers was one of the first African-American families to settle in Miller.  In a paper for Steve McShane’s Indiana History class Michalae wrote:   

Seven-year-old LaVelva started first grade at Norton Elementary, but within a year was living in Miller. This was a culture shock to young LaVelva, who recalled: “I was the only African-American in the entire school.  I did not feel welcome.  I was bullied. It was the first time that I heard the n-word, and didn’t even know what that meant.  I asked my mother [Leatha] and she cried. She told me that it meant an illiterate person that could not read or write. The next day I told my classmates that I did know how to read and write. It did get better after that. However, people kept saying that I didn’t act like I was a Negro, whatever that meant.”

   In third grade, LaVelva recalled: “We had to reenact The Night Before Christmas. I was the mother in an interracial relationship. That was the first time that race was not an issue. It was like the barrier disappeared, only to resurface when African-Americans became more prevalent in the Miller area. I had found my niche and was comfortable with it.  I was the first African-American girl to wear an Afro.  It was curly and everybody wanted to touch my hair. It made me feel odd.”

  When Richard Hatcher ran for mayor of Gary in 1967, Leatha got her children to campaign as well. LaVelva held up signs and made posters that said, “Hatcher, Hatcher! He’s our man!”  

  LaVelva and best friend Toni Holiday went shopping together and to the movies on weekends. They were like other girls - talking and laughing in between classes, having sleepovers, and spending time with other friends. Middle school was not all fun and games though.  LaVelva’s parents separated, and Leatha started worker as a caseworker and then a teacher. When LaVelva was in seventh grade, her dad was shot and killed during a robbery at his parents’ home in Bessemer, Alabama.

At Wirt High School LaVelva stayed away from cliques. A lot of times she found herself being the only African-American at social events. Some black students called her an Oreo and Uncle Tom.  She recalled: “I was the first African-American president of the Girls’ Athletic Association.  I did Y Teen, which was a group of African-American girls trying to make a difference. I was also involved in the African-American Club, and the French Club.  I worked the concession stand at football and basketball games. Homecoming was a big deal. We’d have the entire street decorated. We built floats. We hung posters in store windows. We’d always lose, but the point was to have pride in your school no matter what.”

LaVelva (second from right) prom picture

  LaVelva’s senior year she was a cashier at Wilco Grocery. She recalled: “I’d walk to work, and the neighborhood dogs would all follow me. Then, when I got to the store, they’d turn around and walk back.”  LaVelva graduated from Wirt in 1977 and moved to Birmingham to attend Bessemer State Technical College. She lived with her grandmother Velva Green, and worked weekends at Princeton Medical Center to put herself through school. After graduating in 1980 with a Nursing degree, she moved back to Gary and worked at Methodist Hospital Northlake for over 30 years.

  In 1982 LaVelva’s mother got married to Elijah Ross.  LaVelva was maid of honor.  She and Leatha (above) wore matching suits and blouses with white flowers in their hair.  Leatha’s cousin Theuroux Barnes officiated.  Elijah treated LaVelva as if she was his own flesh and blood. 

 In 1993 LaVelva married Michael Dunlap. I came along two years later, and two years after that, my parents split up.  LaVelva began dating Remick Gibson. In December of 1998 my brother Tre’ Gibson came into the world.

  In 2012 LaVelva’s stepfather Elijah died.  He’d been battling heart issues and developed a cancerous tumor in his stomach.  A couple years later LaVelva left Methodist Hospital and started working at a methadone clinic in Gary.  She sees hundreds of people each week. Her job is to assist them in relapse prevention and help them eventually detox off the methadone. She said: “It’s definitely a new experience. There are no night shifts, so I always get off at the same time. Patients know each other. When you see them every day, you build relationships with them. You know them by name and they share things about their lives.”

LaVelva Burks-Gibson is a Godly, intelligent force to be reckoned with. I was fortunate to be the daughter of such an incredible woman.

 

Amy Miazga interviewed Curtis A. Remus, born on December 17, 1946. Fourteen years earlier, his grandparents, William and Orla Remus founded Remus Farms north of Route 6 and west of County Line Road.  Remus Farms supplied produce to Tittle Borthers Market on Route 20 in Miller and other area groceries.  Amy wrote:

The Remus family grew corn, wheat, oats, soybeans, hay, and fruits and vegetables on the 40-acre property.  William also raised draft horses for farm duties and rode his prize thoroughbreds in local parades. In 1970 he purchased a wooden sleigh, which transported children on rides around the property.

In 1946 Curtis’s father, William Remus, Jr., a U.S. Steel pipe fitter, took over the farming operation.  He added flats of flowers, potted plants, and hanging baskets and went into the egg business.  Eggs were sold from refrigerators placed on the back of the hundred year-old farm house on Route 6.  If nobody was home, there was a till on the back porch for customers to pay and make change.  Starting with 300 poultry, in time over 10,000 chickens were laying approximately 7,500 eggs a day destined for area groceries and restaurants. 

Young Curtis learned to pick corn by hand, drive a tractor and take care of pigs, chickens, geese, horses and cows before school.  In the summer he’d go with grandfather William to Michigan to pick up fruit and vegetables. On the way home they’d go door-to-door in Portage, Chesterton and East Gary saying, “The fruit man is here.” Payment was lunch at Home Haven on Route 6 and County Line Road, which his grandfather owned.

 After attending Indiana State, Curtis and brother Randy joined the family business.  A pipefitter like his father, Curtis farmed all day, slept a couple hours, and then went into the mill.  In 1970 the first of 22 greenhouses was built; by this time the amount of farmable land doubled.  Today Remus Farms has Indiana’s largest selection of rare perennials. The farmers market is open year round.

Lewis Miazga, back row, fifth from left

In 1955 Amy’s dad, Lewis Miazga, was a third grader at Gary Emerson.  Near the end of the year Miss [Louise] Elisha took the class to her home at 2201 West 57th Avenue. They played games, walked in the woods, and collected sticks, leaves, and wildflowers. A garage tunnel took them to the basement. They had a bonfire, snacks, and homemade pizza with all types of toppings.  Amy wrote:

My dad was in ROTC in high school.  In Emerson’s attic was a shooting range.  Cadets used to walk through the halls with loaded rifles on the way there.

After my dad got out of the service in 1968, he and my mom, who was from England and met him in Alaska, moved back to Gary.  They lived in a trailer near Miller on Route 20 for a year or so before moving to Benton Street in Gary and ultimately to Wheeler.

My dad worked in the mill before going into business as an electrician. At age 50 he was re-wiring a house in Griffith and passed a house that he recognized. The mailbox said “Elisha.” It was the site of his third grade field trip.  That night, sporting a full beard and long hair, he rang the doorbell. Miss Elisha opened the door and said, “Lewis Miazga how have you been?” My dad replied, “How did you know?”  It was his big browns eyes, she claimed.          

Some years later, my grandpa was diagnosed with Parkinson’s and needed a hospital bed and wheelchair.  Grandma saw an ad in the paper and set up an appointment to view the merchandise.  The owner was Miss Elisha, who had cared for her invalid mother and never married.  My dad paid another visit to Miss Elisha to pick them up.

The trailer park where Lewis Miazga lived 45 years ago was one of several located on Route 20 east of County Line Road convenient for steelworkers.  Gregory Nordyke’s interview with trailer park mom Joan Havlin appeared in my Portage Shavings (volume 20, 1991).   Havlin told Nordyke:

  When we moved to Ted’s East Town, there was no street, just an unpaved, sandy cut through. Then they put in a road and sidewalk and planted this tree in the yard.  We paid $25 a month for lot rent.  The trailer renters, we called them fly-by-nights.  They’d move out in the middle of the night; then we’d see these pad-locked trailers.  We saw the manager set families out into the street.

The trailer park had unevenly enforced regulations, like 5-mile-an-hour speed limits.  You could work on your car but not leave it up on jacks. Kids were supposed to be inside when the lights come on.  No loud music after 10 p.m. Behind us at 2 or 3 a.m. we’d hear loud music. We’d go ask them real nice to turn it down and they’d cuss you out.

        

At L.A. Nails a buffed, tattooed, bald, gentle Vietnamese immigrant cut my toenails and suggested a “pedi” next visit.  Home by 3 p.m., I watched “Girls” OnDemand, much better this season than in recent years.  The amazing Lena Dunham eulogized Julia Louis-Dreyfus, star of Veep, in Time’s “Hundred Most Influential” issue.

The Lee Botts documentary “Shifting Sands” debuted on Lakeshore TV, only the screen went blank for the first 15 minutes.  That’s when I describe early Miller as a haven for fugitives, hermits, eccentrics, and nature lovers.  Writing about squatter Drusilla Carr in “Gary’s First Hundred Years” I noted that in 1872 she moved from Valparaiso to a Miller fishery to join her brother as housekeeper and cook. Two years later she married Robert Carr and moved into a two-room pine cabin near the mouth of the Grand Calumet.  Her neighbors were boat builder Allen Dutcher, a hunter-trapper of French and Indian descent named Jacques Beaubien, and former slave Davy Crockett.  Corey Hagelberg and Kate Land have started a nonprofit venture, Calumet Artist Residency.  Practicing artists will be able to stay in a cabin atop a Miller Beach sand dune just east from where Drusilla Carr a century ago rented out cabins.

I called Paul Kern to offer my condolences after he sent this post:

            Our cat Allie died yesterday at home, age uncertain. She was found sixteen years ago in the snows of rural Indiana foraging at a bird feeder and we took her in. She may have been affected by malnutrition in her formative months because she was not as nimble as most cats and could not jump very well. Nevertheless, she led an active life in Indiana, venturing outside and occasionally getting into fights with the neighbor's cat, fights she always lost. She almost drowned when she fell into the neighbor's swimming pool, but Chris heard her cries and rescued her. After she retired to Florida, she led the sedentary life of an indoor cat. Sweet and cuddly, she was much loved by the entire family.

Rebecca Aldridge Bue replied, “So sorry for your loss.  What a lucky cat to have found you.  You gave her a long life.”  Paul and Julie had the vet come to their place to put her down, knowing a car ride would traumatize her.

At Hobart Lanes Dennis Cavanaugh (Horace Mann, 1956) had nine straight strikes and finished with a 273.  Robbie’s 209 could not prevent the Engineers losing game one, as Dorothy Peterson, with 51 after five frames, doubled and then converted three spares in a row.

Arts and Sciences

“To develop a complete mind: study the science of art; study the art of science.  Learn how to see.  Realize that everything connects to everything else.” Leonardo Da Vinci (below)

At the annual Arts and Sciences awards banquet History Department chair Jonathyne Briggs announced the winners of the Paul Louis Urcan and Rhiman Rotz memorial scholarships, Rachel Siska and Matthew Eddy.  Urcan was a student a half-century ago who died in an accident; Professor Rotz was a popular medievalist and adviser both to pre-law students and the Muslim Student Association.  When I was chair, an Urcan winner who had taken several courses from me expressed an interest in obtaining my Gary history, “City of the Century.”  I had a spare copy, but the jacket was torn so I removed it and decided to present it to him at the awards ceremony.  Sitting on the stage I noticed that my fingers were black due to mildew in my office that had adversely affected over the years.

Briggs invited me to a class on the AIDS epidemic.  I demurred.  Performing Arts professor Mark Baer said that when he brought up AIDS in a recent class, he teared up.  As I neared retirement, I remarked, it became harder to hold in my emotions.  “I guess I’m getting old,” replied Baer, my sons’ age and father of a pre-schooler.

For a class assignment Melissa Cundiff wrote about her grandmother, Betty Parker, born in 1954 and raised in Chesterton:

Betty lived in a two-bedroom house with 9 brothers and sisters.  Neighbors helped out with meals, and friends from school would give Betty outgrown clothes.  Betty was often in charge of her younger brothers.  Betty got married at 19 and was planning a move to Chicago when she learned that she was pregnant.  She stayed close to home so her parents could help take care of JoAnn (my mother).  Betty eventually became a stay-at-home mother; her husband was a steelworker.  When Chesterton started the Wizard of Oz Festival, she sold homemade items at a craft booth, eventually expanding to the Valparaiso Popcorn Festival and Whiting’s Pierogi Fest.

 Desiree Davis’s father was born in 1970 at St. Catherine’s in East Chicago and grew up in Hammond.  A born storyteller, Bill Davis told Desiree about his life:

My father, Bill Davis, Sr., was a sharp dresser whom my mother, Judy Park, couldn’t resist.  They experienced early intercourse.  The crazy thing is that, as a practical joke, Judy’s brother George had poked a hole in the condom with a sewing needle and that’s how I got here.  My mother got kicked out of her house and quit school.  After two years Bill and Judy decided to split.  Judy’s second husband was abusive, and more than once we entered a shelter for battered wives to get out of harms way. To see our home be taken away just shattered my heart. My mother has since made good changes in her life and has given herself to the Lord.

My grandparents loved me to death. They were separated and lived their own lives but always had time for me.  My grandfather was a jazzy type of guy, handsome, tall, and proud of his Romanian ancestry.  My sister Kristie Lyll (above, with Judy and Bill) is five years younger than me, and we spent a lot of time at roller rinks, throwing frisbees, fishing, and playing hacky sac.  One time I was on the phone, and she kept blowing a clarinet in my ear.  When she wouldn’t stop, I flexed at her with my foot, pretending like I was going to kick her. I accidentally connected with the clarinet, and she had to get stitches in the back of the throat.  My mom called me every name in the book.

Living in public housing in Hammond’s Columbia Center, I’d bounce around on my waterbed until my mother would yell for me to stop before it popped. I’d wait in line for government milk, cheese, fruit, cereal, and oatmeal. We got winter jackets through the Salvation Army.  My duties around the house were to clean my bedroom, do dishes, and vacuum. My mother eventually taught me how to cook.  We went camping and did a lot of fishing.   I was cleaning fish at age 10.  We’d go door-to-door Christmas caroling, and with that money I’d buy my mom and girlfriend presents.  I’d shovel driveways for extra money.   In Little League I once hit a ball that broke a window of Madvek’s Dog House.  My coach paid me five bucks for a home run, and I once went home with ten bucks in my pocket, feeling like a millionaire.

  At Hammond Gavit I excelled in football.  Against Hammond High on September 4, 1987, I had my leg messed up so bad the doctors wanted to amputate.  Multiple surgeries later experts predicted that I’d be in a wheelchair my whole life.  After three years of physical therapy, I proved them wrong.  Friends pushed me to school in a wheelchair or I’d wheel myself.  Without a big support group I’d have lost my mind.  My friends were everything to me. We were all like a big family. We played a little poker and drank some alcohol. We had good parties.  My best friend, Glen Sheetz, loved the band Kiss, and we saw them live; it was the best concert I’ve ever been to.

I had my first date at 13; my dad picked me up and Tanya Huff and took us to Shakey’s, an all-you-can-eat pizza joint. They’d play old “Three Stooges” films.  It was pretty cool; dad sat away from us with a pitcher of beer.  Another time my friend’s mom gave us a ride on a double date to see “Footloose.”  My mom had the birds and bees conversation early considering she’d had me at 16. The main rule was, if you had sex, wear a condom. I remember crying to my mom the first time I had sex.  I was scared that I had gotten the girl pregnant.  Although I wore a condom, her period was late. I worried that it had a hole in it because that’s how I came into this world.

After school I was a stocker, did a lot of dishwashing, worked for Stanley carpet cleaning company, and in the city of Hammond’s recycling, street, and sanitation departments before moving on to jobs with Ford Motors, first in an assembly plant and then in its Chicago Stamping plant.  I met my wife at a dance.  After living together for 3 years, we bought a house and got married.  The birth of my children was the most beautiful experience of my life.  We took them to Disney World, went camping and took vacations to Indiana Beach.

 Bill and Desiree

IUN’s Supervisor of Grounds Timothy Johnson came across a dead wild turkey that apparently flew into Marram Hall.  IUN biologist Spencer Cortwright reported:

  With warmer weather it seems as though life suddenly abounds.  One of the great conservation successes in Indiana is the great increase in number of wild turkey.   Wild turkey lost their footing in Indiana due to overhunting and forest decline.  Once these factors were controlled, in the 1980's primarily, Indiana Department of Natural Resources began an effort to jumpstart turkey populations.  Partial funding came from the optional donation line for non-game wildlife of our tax forms.  DNR biologists would capture 3 grouse (which were doing better in Indiana) and give them to Missouri (not doing so well there).  In exchange, Indiana DNR received 2 turkeys caught in Missouri. The population jumpstart worked!  Now it is common for any of us to see turkeys in the woods, farm fields, roadsides, etc.  It's worked so well, turkey are again considered game and there is a legal hunting season.

Participating in a session on “Queer Attachments” at a University of Pennsylvania Humanities Forum were (from left) Kadji Amin, Durba Mi, Anne Balay, and Heather Love.  Amin, a Penn postdoctoral fellow who organized the session, likes to think of himself as a visitor from a distant time.  He looked the part.

After losing big to Donald Trump in the New York primary, Ted Cruz claimed: “America’s always been best when she is lying down with her back on the mat and the crowd has given the final count.”  What’s really creepy is that he read the statement off a teleprompter.

Chancellor Bill Lowe, whose academic field is Irish history, came to the department’s “Meet and Greet” open house.  Discussing Ireland’s World War II policy of neutrality, he mentioned that President Éamon de Valera created a political storm and drew British Prime Minister Winston Churchill’s wrath when, hearing of Adolf Hitler’s death, he visited to the German ministry in Dublin to offer condolences, in accordance to diplomatic protocol.

At the twelfth annual COAS conference Chris Young chaired a session on “Digitizing he Past.”  Three of his students mapped Lincoln’s funeral train (Karl Lugar), the life of William Henry Harrison ((Leanne Wieczorek) and War of 1812 battlefields ((Michael Litwiller).  Yaryn Grin used Google Books N-Gram to chart the frequency of publications about the Battle of Shiloh.  Interest spiked immediately after the war, upon the death of U.S. Grant coincident the release of his memoirs, at the outbreak of WWI and WWII, and in 1962, the centennial anniversary of the bloody Civil War engagement. 

 Michigan City dignitaries await Lincoln funeral train

According to Karl Lugar, Lincoln’s funeral train traveled 1,654 miles through 180 cities in 14 days.  Folks waited 12 hours to view the casket, set bonfires, and erected ornate wreaths above the tracks.  On the train were Lincoln’s eldest son Robert and the disinterred coffin of son Willie, who had died of typhoid fever in 1862.  In Michigan City, due to a delay in Chicago officials arriving for the next leg of the journey, Lincoln’s casket was opened and viewed by local dignitaries. Historian E.D. Daniels wrote that young girls dressed in a long black skirts placed a floral cross prepared by Harriet Colfax onto Lincoln’s casket.  According to Ken Schoon, Colfax lived in the Michigan City lighthouse and lit the tower lanterns every night for a yearly salary of $350.

11:30 COAS session highlights included Jessica Korman speaking on “Augustus Was a Religious Syncretist!” (one who merged or blended different religious beliefs into a new system), Lana Murher on “Ethnic Discord during the Umayyad Emirate of Islamic Spain” (the Umayyad dynasty dominated Spain for two centuries beginning in 756), and a recitation of the Hollis Donald poem “Dr. Martin Luther King – Was the Real Soul Thing.”

Following a 6 p.m. reception came a world premier screening of “Shifting Sands on the Path to Sustainability” with introductory remarks by director Lee Botts, Carolyn Saxton of Legacy Foundation, Superintendent Paul Labovitz of the National park Service, and James Muhammad of Lakeshore TV.  The Savannah Auditorium was nearly full (As Ken Schoon, has pointed out, the correct spelling should be “savanna” since it is named for rolling grassland). At a second showing the sound went off for a few seconds.  Schoon, sitting behind me, repeated the exact words.  Film producer Pat Wisniewski, an IUN grad, thanked Steve McShane and the Calumet Regional Archives as well as professors she interviewed, including Schoon, Peter Avis, Mark Reshkin, and myself.  Kristin Huysken, one of her favorite professors, congratulated her for a job well done.

At VU’s “Thursday Night Noir” an overflow crowd, including old friends Larry and Bobbie Galler and IUN retirees Rick Hug and Joan Wolter, watched “Touch of Evil” (1958).  I thoroughly enjoyed its exposure of racism against Mexicans and sexy Marlene Dietrich delivering an existential epitaph for Hank Quinlan (Orson Wells), in her words, a great detective but a lousy, crooked cop: “He was some kind of man.  What does it matter what you say about people?” Janet Leigh plays a horny newlywed kidnapped by villains who drugged and, it’s strongly hinted at, raped her.  Peter Aglinskas introduced me to Asher Yates, a former Hollywood sound editor and EMMY winner for the NBC made-for-TV movie “The Executioner’s Song,” starring Tommy Lee Jones and based on Norman Mailer’s psychological examination of murderer Gary Gilmore.   The last movie he worked on was the acclaimed “Last of the Mohicans” (1992).

In the news: Prince dead at age 57; the White House glowed purple in his honor. Cubs pitcher Jake Arrieta pitched a no-hitter and the Black Hawks stayed alive in their series with St. Louis with a Patrick Kane wraparound goal in the second overtime well past midnight.

 

Helicopter Parents

“A lot of parents will do anything for their kids except let them be themselves,” Graffiti artist Banksy

Parents can’t win.  Whereas in the past they elicited criticism for neglecting their kids, now self-appointed experts have coined the phrase “helicopter parents” for those who allegedly try too hard to shield children from failure and disappointment.  For example, in “How to Raise an Adult: Break Free of the Overparenting Trap and Prepare Your Kids for Success” Julie Lythcott-Haims warns that over-helping “can leave young adults without the strength of skill, will, and character that are needed to know themselves and to craft a life.”  The goal of parents, she argues, should be to make offspring self-sufficient – in her words, “to put ourselves out of a job.”

 

The pejorative phrase “helicopter parent” suggests hovering, lingering near loved ones in a stifling, over-protective way by closely monitoring all manner of activities.  On the other hand, a case can be made for involved parents who are supportive of their kids’ need for independence but wish to keep them from harm until they are better prepared to protect themselves. As one wrote on the website bleuwater: “I monitor computer and TV viewing. I check book bags daily and stay in communication with their teachers. I ask questions about their day and try and spend one-on-one time with them every night…wait a minute…Does that really make me a helicopter mom or an involved mom?!”

Although the ideal of a close-knit, happy family unit was central to my parents’ Fifties suburban middle-class existence, Midge and Vic did not keep tabs on everything I did or everywhere I went, so long as I was home for dinner or at a decent hour on weekends.  They did not, for instance, press me to take piano lessons or play organized sports.  On the other hand, they did encourage me to join the Cub Scouts (Midge was my den mother), and it was understood that I should make good grades in order to get into college.  Above all, I was not to bring shame upon myself or to the family.

Christian Science Monitor quiz questions to determine if one is a helicopter parent ranged from how much to help a child with a science project to whether to use a GPS tracking device to know where a teenager is at all times.  In groan-inducing “Helicopter Mom” (2014) overbearing Maggie Cooper outs her sexually ambiguous son to make it easier for him to win an LGBT college scholarship – only it turns out he falls for a girl. 

Katy Steinmetz’s Time cover story about childrearing practices of the so-called Millennial Generation stated:

  Helicopter-parented, trophy-saturated and abundantly friended, they’ve been hailed by loved ones as ‘special snowflakes’ and cast as the self-centered children of the cosseting boomers who raised them.

Passing Chuck Gallmeier on his way to class, I asked what he’d be teaching, and he answered, “social stratification.”  I assume he’ll discuss the hierarchical division of societies pertaining to the “holy trinity” (Nicole’s Anslover’s phrase) of race, class, and gender.  Structural functionalists have argued that social inequality has beneficial consequences for the smooth operation of a society, but most sociologists realize that stratification benefits the few at the expense of the many and in extreme cases leads to oppression.

Jeff Manes, whose Post-Tribune SALT column on me will be in his forthcoming book, interviewed Carlyle Edwards, until recently project manager of the East Chicago nonprofit agency Bridges of Care.  Originally from western Pennsylvania, Edwards believes Region cities should emulate Pittsburgh by diversifying.  He told Manes:

            The leadership of Northwest Indiana needs to leave. Not permanently, but temporarily. They need to visit other places, other living space programs that have turned around cities. They need to bring some of those ideas back.

With the Cubs behind 8-3, after Daniel Murphy homered in his sixth consecutive postseason game, a Wrigley Field sign read: “We Need a Miracle.”  Alas, it was not to be.  Though the Cubs went 7-0 against the Mets in the regular season, there was little truth to the die-hard White Sox fans’ claim that they choked.  The Mets had better pitching and clutch hitting.  Winning 101 games gives Chicago fans optimism for the future.  I had hoped to be watching game 5 Thursday at Hobart Lanes, where I had my first decent series of the season, 450.

In the Chicago Sun-Times Michael Sneed wrote that the Billy goat whose owner supposedly put a curse on the Cubs in 1945 was named Murphy, as was the unpopular Cubs owner in 1908 who cursed his players when they wouldn’t let him come to their celebration dinner. Both the general manager and broadcaster for the 1969 Miracle Mets were Murphys, and the Cubs three-game NLCS collapse in 1984 took place in San Diego’s Jack Murphy Stadium.  Sneed summed up the Cubs-Mets series by citing Murphy’s Law: anything that can go wrong will go wrong.

At my reunion two weeks ago Donald Stroup mentioned frequently passing through Terre Haute, Indiana, on western trips.  When I expressed hope to visit a friend who was incarcerated there, he and Joe Ricketts wanted to know more about the case but a third classmate just made a sarcastic comment about politicians and walked away.

I’ve been approved to visit George Van Till at the federal correctional camp in Terre Haute on November 14.  He wrote: “You might not recognize me in geeky prison glasses and having lost a hundred pounds and [with] a depressed look on my face.”  He signed the letter, “Warm regards, G.V.T.”  How sad that one who dedicated his life to government (g.v.t.) service should be a victim of selective and arbitrary law enforcement.  Federal prosecutors commonly charge their victims on so many counts (i.e., wire fraud for pays staff members using direct deposit) that they virtually blackmail their prey into a plea bargain.   Regarding over-criminalization, retired law school professor John Baker has written: “There is no one in the United States over the age of 18 who cannot be indicted for some federal crime.”  Civil rights attorney Harvey A. Silverglate estimated that the average American unwittingly commits three felonies a day.

Ron Cohen alerted me to Rick Perlstein’s article in The Washington Spectator about a Bernie Sanders house party in Griffith, Indiana, where the candidate spoke by live feed.  Hostess Gypsy Milenic told Perlstein: “This home is paid for by union dues.  That matters. Keeping it in the family; that matters.  Being able to have a small town like this that is a mix of blue-collar and white-collar matters.”  A young conservative told Perlstein: “I approve of some of the stuff that Bernie stands for - like appealing to more than just the one percent and trying to give everyone a leg up who’s needing it these days.”  Another told the crowd:

            Both my parents together made barely over the poverty line, and I can tell you that life sucks. I have no financial support from my family. I get very little from the government. I am on my own, trying to make it, trying to thrive, just like everybody behind me. And it’s hard. And I am currently about 50 grand in debt between student loans, car loans. . . and I am trying so damned hard. And working so damned hard.  I see all my friends who suffer the same way I do, and they can’t make ends meet. They work three jobs. . . and they still struggle! And it just burns me. Because it wasn’t like this! Now, you go to college for four years and you’re in debt 20, 30 years, sometimes for life. I want to see change. And I believe Bernie Sanders is the one to do it.

African American retiree Martha Harris first took notice of Sanders when Black Lives Matter advocates confronted him at a rally in Phoenix.  Harris told Perlstein: “I saw him flub. And like any white man, his staff put him out there without his underwear on. So he ran home and he got his long johns on. And I’m okay with that. He’s learning.”  At the house party Harris was so impressed that she opened a “Sanders for President” storefront in Hammond. 

In a poetic essay entitled “Le Your Hand be Strong” IUN Physical Plant worker Hollis Donald praised his boss Otto Jefimenko.  Don’t tell him you can’t do something, Donald wrote, “because one thing he will always ask is ‘why not?’  He himself can do every job at Physical Plant; some years ago Dr. Otto saw a vision of a renewed Gary.  He would not let anyone tell him the power of regeneration did not exist in the almost forgotten territory of Gary.”

Environmentalist Lee Botts and film producer Pat Wisniewski invited me to a “final cut” screening of the one-hour documentary “Shifting Sands” at the National Lakeshore Visitors Center. Other guests included archivist Steve McShane (who provided many of the visuals), Miller historian Steve Spicer, geologist Mark Reshkin, SALT columnist Jeff Manes, and about 60 others, Including environmentalists and business leaders.  I appeared a half-dozen times talking about the intrusion of U.S. Steel and the city of Gary to the pristine dunelands. At one point the film stuck with my image on the screen, like at the Black International Film Festival showing of “My Name Is Gary.” Hope I’m not a jinx.  Ken Schoon mentioned that sand was mined for export to Chicago and for use in making blue Ball canning jars in Muncie, Indiana.  The film summarized recent cooperative conservation efforts, such as the Grand Calumet River Task Force.  One turning point was when the federal government gave polluters the option of paying hefty fines or using the money in cleanup efforts.

Afterwards Botts solicited comments.  Outspoken curmudgeon Herb Read said the product was improvement over a previous cut but still lacked material about the origins of the dunes and details about the role Save the Dunes Council played in bringing about the creation of the Indiana Dunes National Lakeshore.  Twice Botts tried to move on to someone else, but that only seemed to spur him on to continue the diatribe.  Clearly suspicious on corporate good will gestures, Read in the film describes how Bethlehem Steel destroyed the central dunes – employing heavy machinery 24 hours a day within ear-shot of his house – before environmentalists could save them.  I recommended including material about the Bailly Alliance, a mass movement that prevented the building of a nuclear power plant on the Lake Michigan shoreline.  In the film former Local 1010 president Mike Olszanski discusses activities of a steelworkers environmental committee - a perfect place to add the material.

After the show I went looking for Park Ranger Amanda Board and found the IUN grad with a customer in the gift shop.  Despite her new hairstyle and glasses, I recognized her sweet smile and soft voice and we chatted for a few minutes, after which she called me Jimbo, warming my heart.  She said her life was going well and that she hoped for a career with the Park Service.  I once again suggested that she look into Hawaii, where there are numerous national parks.