Strange Days

“Strange days have found us
Strange days have tracked us down
They're going to destroy
Our casual joys”

    “Strange Days,” The Doors

The Doors

Lori

James

People are putting all sorts of weird stuff on Facebook to relieve boredom during the pandemic.  One fad is melding one’s photo into an avatar look-alike.  Lori Montalbano was more successful than James Wallace, methinks.  Political commentary abounds, the latest batch debunking Trump’s threats to force governors to open churches on Sunday – this from a man pandering to the Christian right who only worships himself.  Fortunately, friends have not lost their sense of humor, as evidenced by this post by Cindy Bean:

I’ve finished posting album covers on Facebook but am enjoying choices by others, including Fred McColly (Warren Zevon), Chris Daly (folk and bluegrass singer John Hartford), and Gregg Hertzlieb (Steve Hackett, former lead guitar player for Genesis.  Brenden Bayer introduced me to School of Fish, an alternative rock band from L.A. who in 1991 recorded “3 Strange Days.”  Brenden also suggested posting a list of five people, four of whom you’ve met or been within a few feet of and one you haven’t and see if friends can guess the correct one.  Here’s a list of civil rights leaders: Julian Bond, Andrew Young, James Farmer, Jesse Jackson, Stokely Carmichael.  Here’s a second list of famous people: Dick Clark, Jesse Owens, Frank Borman, Muhammad Ali, Lyndon B. Johnson.  Can you identify one from each list I’ve never met?  Spoiler alert: answers are Andrew Young and Muhammad Ali. Surprisingly few people guessed Young but most guessed Ali (I thought more would select LBJ, who I saw speak in Lewisburg, PA, in 1960 when he was JFK’s running mate, or track star Jesse Owens, whose hand I shook when the Gary NAACP honored him at a luncheon at IUN).

 

Julian Bond

I met Julian Bond, who was then teaching at the U. of Virginia, at an Oral History Association conference. I heard Carmichael speak at IUN in 1979 on Pan-African socialism when he went by the name Kwame Ture. Richard Morrisroe was in the audience, and the two former freedom fighters embraced.  James Farmer, a founder of CORE (Congress of Racial Equality) and a 1961 Freedom Rider on a bus attacked by racists, spoke at IUN and I got him to sing one of the songs that calmed people on the bus - he had a great voice and it's on an episode of "Eyes on the Prize."  I first saw Jesse Jackson in 1968 speak on Solidarity Day in DC. Richard Hatcher brought him to IUN when he was running for President in 1984, and I spoke with him at a Genesis Center event on the 40th anniversary of the 1972 West Side National Black Political Convention. Ali visited Gary several times while Hatcher was mayor, but I never met him.  Janet Bayer wrote: “Mayor Hatcher's Evenings to Remember were great for meeting people. I actually was in line with Julian Bond behind me waiting to get to the Campaign Fountain. He was charming. Another year Rev Jesse Jackson came in to do some fund raising. The Black National Convention that was hosted by Mayor Hatcher had everybody. I was one of very few white people invited.  We were so fortunate to live in Gary.”

 

Brenda Ann Love suggested opening a book to page 45 and seeing what the first thing you read tells you about yourself.  Why not?  Pamela Roorda-Barnett wrote: "There was a clear sense that the school had invested in us, which I think made us all try harder and feel better about ourselves." Michelle Obama - “Becoming.” This was on page 45 of Hilary Mantel’s “Beyond Black” – of all things, a one-night stand with a bookstore manager, who sold her a book on tarot and the cards as well:

    He had a room in a shared flat.  In bed he kept pressing her clit with his finger, as if he were inputting a sale on a cash machine.  In the end she faked it because she was bored and getting a cramp.

This on page 45 of Jean Shepherd’s “A Fistful of Fig Newtons”: “The roar in the driveway meant the old man was home from bowling.  Our Oldsmobile made a distinctive, loose-limbed, gurgling racket that came from 120,000 hard miles and gallons of cheap oil. “YER LOOKIN’ AT A GUY THAT JUST ROLLED A SIX HUNDRED SERIES!”  He strode through the kitchen ten feet tall, smelling of Pabst Blue Ribbon and success.”  Moral: every dog has its day.

On a positive note Facebook has connected me to online board games and bridge with friends and allowed me to learn about the doings of family members such as Dave, who’s been able to order appropriate masks for East Chicago Central seniors and volunteers.  Also Anne Koehler has taken the opportunity to write her memoirs. Here’s the latest installment:

In late 1957 I took the train from home in northern Germany to Sweden to meet a friend in Goeteborg. I had been an exchange student earlier in the year at Asa Folkhoegskola in Skoeldinge. In the beginning I did not know a word of Swedish, but became fairly fluent by the end of the Summer. People would ask "Aer Ni fran Skone?" (are you from Schonen, a southern part of Sweden) because of my accent. I considered that a compliment.  Back then the Danish isles were not all connected by bridges and tunnels as they are now. One had to get off the train or car and onto a ferryboat. Topside at the railing I started to talk to a young man from America who spoke German. He was a GI on vacation with a German family. After the 15-minute crossing it was time to get back to our respective modes of transportation and we exchanged addresses. His time of enlistment was up in 1958 and I did not see him again until 1960 when I came to the USA. We had corresponded for three years. Since Richard was fluent in German, the Army used him to spy on East German radio stations. He had a car and got to travel up and down the border separating East and West Germany. His mission was secret and he very reluctantly told me about it.- Two weeks after arriving in the USA we got married.

 

Desperate to find a decent movie I hadn’t already seen On Demand I discovered a category labeled Indie films – evidently in contrast to mainstream blockbusters and entered into film festivals – and found “Ophelia” and “Tumbledown.”  The latter was about a professor and a grieving widow collaborating on a book about  Hunter Miles, a dead folk singer whose songs in the movie were sung by Seattle folkie Damien Jurado.  “Ophelia” was a remaking of Shakespeare’s “Hamlet” from Ophelia’s point of view, starring Daisy Ridley (below), who reminded me of high school redhead Gaard Murphy.

"Tumbledown" takes place in Gaard’s home state, Maine, where fans come to put momentos, including bottles of Jack Daniels, by their hero’s gravesite. Seen teaching a music pop culture class, Andrew (former SNL cast member Justin Sedeikis) appears to be a snob.  Lecturing on the music of The Notorious B.I.G., he asks the class, “Fiction or autobiography, pose or confession?” adding “Biggy was as much defined by as he was killed by his 10 crack commandments; what does that mean, to hinge your street cred on your own moral evanescence?” Say what?  As class ends, he asks students to analyze the assigned music in terms of cultural appropriation.  Boring!   In the course of the film Andrew drops his phony pretenses, shows endearing and vulnerable sides of his personality, and falls in love with Hannah (Rebecca Hall).  Highly recommended.

Home Alone Redux

“You bomb me with one more can, kid, and I’ll snap off your cajones and boil them in motor oil.” Harry (Joe Pesci) to 8-year-old Kevin (Macaulay Culkin) in “Home Alone” (1990)

Adria-Joi Jackson from Evanston and Miriam Espinal from Spain at Jackson home; photos by Kyle Telechan

I thought of “Home Alone” when reading about the Maxwell family renting the lame sequel from Blockbuster in Stewart O’Nan’s “Henry Himself.”  Despite the unlikely premise, the original had its comic moments, as well as a few comments (the reference to snapping off a kid’s balls, for one) and scary scenes that earned the film a PG rating.  Michael Jackson befriended child star Macaulay Culkin, who stayed at Neverland Ranch numerous times, often sharing a bed with the pop icon. He steadfastly claims Michael was never sexually inappropriate and apparently is Paris Jackson’s godfather.Crowds gathered at Michael’s childhood home in Gary to commemorate the tenth anniversary of his tragic drug-induced death.

Home alone for the weekend as Toni went with Dave and Angie to attend Becca’s recital at the University of Cincinnati, I took the opportunity to invite James to lunch.  When we arrived at the Portage Steak and Shake, we found it shut down, according to local scuttlebutt, by the Board of Health. We settled for a nearby Culver’s, our favorite destination after bowling.  I got a kids meal for $5.99 that included a scoop of frozen custard topped with chocolate syrup for desert.  James asked if we could swing by Game Stop and emerged with Super Mario Maker 2, which, he explained, allows the operator to set the preferred level of difficulty.   It was the first day the video game was for sale.  I asked James if the place sold board games; the answer was no although James reported that young people still participate in role-playing games such as Dungeons and Dragons.

I interviewed Lori Montalbano for IU’s Bicentennial project.  The youngest of seven who attended Warren G. Harding School in Hesville (made famous by Jean Shepherd) and then Hammond Morton, Lori was the first in her family to attend college, enrolling at IU Northwest in 1981.  I had thought her name was Mexican, but her dad, who died when she was ten, was Sicilian.  With Reagan in the White House, Pell Grant opportunities evaporated, but financial aid director Leroy Gray put a package together for her.  A theater major with a minor in communication, Lori recalled Garrett Cope, Dorothy Ige, and Jim Tuihuizen as mentors and role models. Forced to take two semesters of Western Civilization, she admitted Rhiman Rotz was formidable but a good teacher, as was Paul Kern, who lectured with no more than a glance at his carefully prepared notes. Awarded a PhD from Southern Illinois University, Lori taught at IUN for 17 years, including in the Women’s Studies program and stints as Communication Department chair and Associate Dean of Arts and Sciences under Dee Dee Ige.  The two co-authored a textbook, “Public Speaking and Responsibility in a Changing World.”  Lori was reluctant to say anything negative about IUN other than to intimate that a glass ceiling existed.  She is presently Dean of Academic and Student Affairs at IUPUI in Columbus.

Megan Rapinoe; Alissa and Josh in foreground

Alissa called during the waning minutes of America’s World Cup match, as the French were trying to tie the score 2-2. Half in jest, I admitted hoping they succeeded (call me unpatriotic).  Co-captain Megan Rapinoe announced she’d turn down a White House visit if the Americans won the World Cup.  Go girl! Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez invited her and teammates to tour Congress instead.   Alissa sent a photo of members of her soccer team, including hubby Josh and poppa Phil. A rainbow is in the background.

Avi Gupta won the JeopardyTeen Tournament after surviving a tiebreaker in the semifinal round.  He and Jackson Jones each finished with $39,200.  The extra category was American History, and the clue was, “Types of it you could find in Boston Harbor on December 16, 1773 included souchong and bohea.”  As easy as the answer, tea, was, I’m certain Jackson knew it, but Avi buzzed in first.  On day two all three finalists knew Final Jeopardy, an Ancient Lore question about Lancelot and Camelot, but the others couldn’t catch Gupta. 

The Sports Illustrated“Where Are They Now?” issue with nattily-dressed Alex Rodriguez on the cover included a montage of stars from 50 years ago, including Arnold Palmer, Joe Frazier, Joe Namath, Hank Aaron, and O.J. Simpson – all senior citizens now if still on the right side of the grass, as bowling teammate Terry Kegebein likes to say.  In Rolling Stoneveteran moviemaker John Waters, whose films include such gems as “Pink Flamingos” (1972) and “Hairspray” (1988), claimed that the secret to aging gracefully is staying away from nude beaches.  He declared: “If you go to the gym every day, people still don’t want to see you nude at 70.”Claiming that political correctness can go too far, Waters, a frequent guest on HBO’s “Real Time with Bill Maher,” said: “When I hear about ‘theybies,’ where you don’t tell your child what sex they are until they decide, I had to roll my eyes.  Give me a break.  That child will be in a psychiatric unit early.”  Maybe, maybe not.

 John Waters

posted by Anne Koehler

Without mentioning Trump by name, Pete Buttigieg told a Rolling Stonecorrespondent, “It is the nature of grotesque things that you can’t look away.”  Attending a G20 summit in Osaka, Japan (In 1994 I flew in and out of Kansai International Airport for a speaking engagement in nearby Kyoto arranged by colleague Roberta Wollons), Trump met with pal Putin, who declared liberalism obsolete and in its death throes.  When a reporter asked a beaming Trump whether he planned to bring up Russian meddling in the 2020 election, he smiled and repeated question to a smirking Putin smirked, who said of course not.  Ha, ha, ha. Trump couldn’t resist tweeting about the Democratic Presidential debates, pronouncing them “BORING!”  He prefers bombast and ridicule to serious policy discussions. After Jimmy Carter asserted that Russian meddling determined the 2016 election outcome, Trump called him a poor president.  Reporters should press him on why he thinks so.

I have to admit I fell asleep both evenings after the first hour but caught the highlights on “Morning Joe.” Elizabeth Warren’s strident style attracted attention, as did Kamala Harris confronting Joe Biden, claiming he opposed school bussing during the 1970s (only forced, not voluntary, he countered).  While Bernie Sanders, Warren, and Harris enunciated valid arguments, the electorate, I believe, seeks restoration of civility, not revolution.  The most poignant moment was when Rachel Maddow asked Pete Buttigieg about the worsening race relations in South Bend in the wake of a white cop shooting a black man, and the Mayor replied, “I couldn’t get it done.” What a powerful admission that politicians cannot solve every problem.  I’m still for Amy Klobuchar and either Buttigieg or Julian Castro as her running-mate; all three acted more Presidential than pretentious Beto O’Rourke and Cory Booker, who showed off their knowledge of Spanish.  Klobuchar reminded voters of her Midwestern roots, where the general election will be won or lost, and that the women on the stage had been fighting for women’s rights longer than many Johnny-come-latelies. Biden is still paying dearly for disrespecting Anita Hill decades ago.  Ray Smock wrote: 

    Joe Biden took it on the chin from Kamala Harris's attack on Joe's comments about working with segregationists in the past. She took a good shot and it worked in the glare of the TV lights. Today, in news coverage around the nation she stands out as a "winner" of this preliminary encounter. This may be a good indicator of her rise in the polls, but I will reserve judgment about the long-range importance of this exchange. 

    [California Congressman] Eric Swalwell, who I admire for his work on the House Intelligence and Judiciary committees investigating Trump, and his public efforts to educate the public about Trump's transgressions, fell flat in my opinion for his attempt to grab the torch from Joe Biden's generation. Pass the Torch, he said. Give his generation a chance. This campaign may turn out to be a generational feud.  Joe Biden is one of the politicians I have admired since he first entered politics. His is a remarkable, positive career and it is still ongoing. Joe's age shows in this kind of rapid fire, gotcha TV reality contest that our debates represent. His experience, his character, his knowledge of government would be an asset in the White House. It would be an asset in his knowledge of the world and its leaders. It would be a tremendous asset in uniting his own party and bringing unity to the nation. Without unity, without defusing political extremism, the Harrises and the Swalwells will not be able to get things done. Trump proved that emotion alone can elect a president. But all he had was hate and division. 

    Whoever gets the Democratic Party nomination should be a healer, a unifier, not just a new brand of fiery rhetoric carrying a new red hot torch that fizzles and goes dark in a divided nation.

Anne Tyler’s 2018 novel “Clock Dance” about a 61-year-old woman provides vignettes about her early life.  Willa’s temperamental mother sarcastically called her father St. Melvin, similar to Toni branding me St. James when I become self-righteous.  Her younger sister became a rebellious teenager whose eyes in 1977 “were so heavily outlined in blush that she resembled a pileated woodpecker.”A poster in her bedroom read “Nobody for President.”  Willa’s son wanted to quit school and hitchhike around the country to meet people. Her self-indulgent husband died in an auto accident driving recklessly in anger. Twenty years later, Willa (named for lesbian Willa Cather, one wonders, whose forte was depicting loneliness) receives a call that lures her to Baltimore to care for a girl that someone mistakenly thought was her granddaughter.  Remarried to an overbearing man and bored with life in Tuscan, she is ready for a change of scenery.  Tyler writes: “She knows the world, which has largely ignored her, expects her now to coast along that deferential rut into oblivion.”  Aware her time clock was ticking, she had always conformed but now was open to adventure, ready to dance.

NY Knicks Barnett, Frazier, Bradley, DeBusschere, Reed in April 1970

New York Knicks fan Spike Lee’s memoir “Best Seat in the House” lists his favorite teams as the 1970 and 1972 NBA champs, regarded by many as representing the American melting pot.  Knick players included Princeton blueblood (and future Senator) Bill Bradley, sons of immigrants Dave DeBusschere and Mike Riordon, plus, in Lee’s words, “the brothers, ranging from deep southern rural to Midwestern to Chicago slick to Gary, Indiana, hard.”  These included Earl “The Pearl” Monroe, Willis Reed, Walt “Clyde” Frazier (Lee’s favorite) and Gary Roosevelt grad Dick “Skull” Barnett. By 1978, when Phil Jackson left to play for a rival, there were hardly any white players left, causing racists to label the team the “Niggerbockers.”

 E'Traun Moore basketball camp photos by Kale Wilk

IUN coaches Javier Heredia and Eric Roldan participated in E’Twaun Moore’s summer basketball camp at East Chicago Central, by now an annual tradition.  So did 6-foot-11 Angel Garcia, who starred on the 2007 championship Cardinals with Moore and Kawann Short.  NWI Timesreporter James Boyd wrote that the New Orleans Pelicans guard wowed the kids demonstrating his typical shooting warmup, draining 9 straight 3-pointers, including one from nearly half court.  Kids begged Moore to dunk the ball, but he deferred to professional dunk artist Jordan Southernland.  Boyd wrote: “Southerland pulled off a variety of rim-rocking jams and ended his showing by jumping over former E.C. Central center Garcia, who stands 6-foot-11, and nine participants.”
                                                        Gabrielle Frigo at IUN graduation 

Simone De Beauvoir photos by Art Shay

At Miller Beach Aquatorium Nelson Algren Museum director Sue Rutson hosted a French-themed event that included Eve Bottando as Simone De Beauvoir, George Rogge as Father Marquette, French champagne and buffet, plus talks on French-American engineer Octave Chanute and novelist (and Miller summer resident) Algren’s relationship with French feminist De Beauvoir and African-American émigré to France Richard Wright.  One presenter showed nude photos of Simone that Algren buddy Art Shay took after she’d showered. She sun-bathed in the nude, scandalizing some neighbors, and never closed the bathroom door.  A free spirit, Simone sun-bathed in the nude, scandalizing some neighbors, titillating others.  I was delighted to discover that recent IUN grad Gabrielle Frigo had received a museum internship.  I told Nancy Cohen that I had heard Gabby (as I know her) recite poetry at a Women’s Studies conference and that she is bright and self-confident.

 Terry Hemmert on XRT float; photo by Marianne Brush

As Pride Month concluded, Chicago’s annual parade attracted record crowds.  The South Shore ran extra trains to and from Northwest Indiana.  Marianne Brush waved at peerless dejay Terry Hemmert, who recently announced her impending retirement, aboard the XRT float.  With her was Lin Brehmer, whose favorite expression is “It’s great to be alive.” I thought of them listening to CDs by Widespread Panic and Night Ranger. Track 6 of Widespread Panic’s “Earth to America” album, which I found at Chesterton library, is “When the Clowns Come Home.” It begins”

One of these days my back won't bend
My fingers might hurt swollen
Live another day, get lucky that way
Sound of thunder when the gods go bowling

I listened to “Eddie’s Comin’ Out Tonight” for homoerotic hints in the Night Ranger song about a guy who “likes to rock it all night long.”Here are the first two verses:

He wears his trousers real tight
And his skin is so white
He lives beyond his means
He wear Italian shoes
. . .

He live a tenderloin life
The street's his type
In the alley's where he's king
He got a grin on his face

Thirty years ago at Sociologist Jack Bloom’s end-of-the-semester party, I danced to an entire Night Ranger album with Phil, Dave, Jimmy Satkoski, and Tom Horvath, and we rocked – at least that’s my memory.

 Kaden Alexander 

Post-Trib columnist Jerry Davich profiled 24-year-old F to M transgender Kaden Alexander, a recent IUN grad who will attend IU Law School in the fall.  The article began:

   Kaden Alexander is so comfortable with his body these days he went to a local nudist resort to hang out while letting it all hang out.

    “I wasn’t any more uncomfortable than the best man from my wedding who went with me,”Alexander said with a smile.

Davich added, unnecessarily, in my opinion: “Alexander has no plans in the near future for gender reassignment surgery to alter his genitals. It’s too expensive, too risky, too complicated, costing tens of thousands of dollars for multiple procedures and revisions.”  Last year Kaden confided that he was uncomfortable attracting attention because intolerant folks might resent his lifestyle, yet he granted Davich permission to photograph him and even provided a picture of when he was 16 and known as Kaitlyn.

Toni was home earlier than expected, and I saw on Angie’s cell phone a number Becca performed a number at musical theater camp in Cincinnati from “Jawbreaker,” based on a 1999 film about three girls who accidently kill the prom queen with hard candy.

Pep Rally & Autograph Party (2)

The Pep Rally and Autograph Party for volume 40 Tuesday was a success. The band Jimbo’s Jammers, consisting of son Dave, former student Bruce Sawochka, and original Voodoo Chili drummer John, was great, starting with acoustic numbers and then rocking out and climaxing with Neil Young's "Rockin' in the Free World." The band also did the Neil Young song about Johnny Rotten, "Hey Hey My My (Out of the Blue)," which contains the line, "it's better to burn out than to fade away." Dave invited me and favorite student Shannon Pontney up to sing the chorus to "Sympathy for the Devil" – first “woo, who,” then “ooo, who,” and finally “ooo, who, who, oh, yeah.” I also, as usual, helped with the chorus to "Surrender" - "Mommy's alright, Daddy's alright, they just seem a little weird. Surrender, surrender but don't give yourself away." (sat in sixth row to see Cheap Trick at the Star Plaza with niece Cristin; the drummer in the punky warm-up band threw a broken drum stick that sailed right by her; could have taken her eye out). Among the former students who came to the Autograph Party were Dave Serynek, Fred McColly, Sherril Tokarski, Thomas Hazlett, Mary Lee, Don Young (who took many photographs), and Marshall Lines. Marshall’s girlfriend Erica was puzzled that in volume 40 I referred to her tattoos (I rasn into them while working the Porter County Fair). She said she only had one and that it wasn’t visible; it must be near her breast or above her butt because I wouldn’t have made that up. Or would I?

Todd Cliborne arrived accompanied by his daughter Baylee. In an article called “Lifeless Angel in Sandals” that appeared in my 2000 issue Todd wrote about thinking of his three year-old daughter as he viewed the body of a young drowning victim and calling her after leaving the hospital to tell her how much he loved her. That was nine years ago, and I could tell from their body language how close they still are.

I danced with the Redhawk cheerleaders (who also performed) and numerous others, including Marianne and Missy Brush (Big Voodoo Daddy’s daughter, who also did a number with the band), John’s wife Lorraine, wife Toni, daughter-in-law Angie, Shannon, and Communication professor Lori Montalbano (much to her young daughter’s displeasure), and an African-American guy named David who basically danced the entire time. Jon, Jerry, Chris, and Jean from our department lent their moral support as well, as did Chuck Gallmeier and emeritus prof Ron and wife Nancy (who’s halfway though and said she’s learning more about me than she wanted to or words to that effect) and best friend Clark Metz. Trish and Ray Arredondo were pleased to find their names in the volume several times in connection with the book we worked on together, “Maria’s Journey.”

I got a lot of help from IU Northwest History Club members Heather, Brandy, and Sabrina, who signed up new members. Heather Hollister is a campus cadet and goes out with former student Josh Gonzales, who wrote an article for my Eighties Steel Shavings (he is one of eight Gonzales’s in the master index, plus seven Gonzalez’s with a “z” at the end). Scott Fulk from Student Life provided free popcorn, Ann Fritz kept the Gallery open (a haven for those who wanted to talk while the band was playing), where punch and cookies were on hand, and Donna DeGradi kept the bookstore open and reported that they sold a bunch of books. Some of the fans who had come for the basketball game were pleased at the entertainment, including two middle aged guys from Grace Collage (the Lady Redhawks’ opponents). After leading by ten at halftime the Lady Redhawks lost to the "Lady Lancers" in overtime.

In a reference to my “Wacky Mode” comments about Padgett Powell Gaard Logan wrote: “I think breaking a reader’s heart is a worthy goal for a novelist. I’m reading a little something called "Hotel at the Corner of Bitter and Sweet." It centers around the Panama Hotel in Seattle’s international district. The hotel was closed for 40-plus years following WWII, I’m guessing because all the Japanese were carted off to detention centers and so it could not longer make a profit. When it was purchased and reopened in the 80s, the new owners found the basement full of personal belongings left behind by the community. It talks about what the residents tried to do to save themselves from arrest, including burning anything that linked them to ‘old’ Japan – kimonos including wedding kimonos, photos of their parents and grandparents taken in Japan, artwork that today would be worth fortunes but meant ‘Japanese sympathizers’ to the authorities. I’m only at page 75, and my heart has already been broken. Twice.”

I recall watching the Johnny Carson Show many years ago when a Japanese-American actress said she was born in Arizona and Johhny expressed surprise, not realizing she had been in an internment camp. Initially families in the camps had virtually no privacy and had to keep lights on all night as soldiers could peer inside to make sure no subversive activity was taking place.

Wednesday was a busy day. I interviewed Charlotte Reed for the FACET project. She was very moving talking about her passion for teaching and very complimentary toward my son Dave, who was a student of hers in the Urban Teacher Education Program. They have kept in touch since he started teaching at East Chicago Central High School 15 years ago. In the afternoon I did my first steelworker interview for Anne Balay's project, which lasted two hours. At bowling I rolled a 512 and the Electrical Engineers won five points out of seven. One opponent looked just like Tommy Lee when he was in his blond-hair mode. At an O'Hare Airport bar Toni and I sat right next to him and he was charming to us and the young women seeking to say hey and maybe get his autograph.