Back at South Bend to see Mary and Sonny, we visited their son-in-law Fritz on the Notre Dame campus and had lunch at a classy but reasonably priced restaurant. Fritz pointed out Father Theodore Hesburgh, the 94 year-old former President (for 35 years) of Notre Dame who was a member of the United States Civil Rights Commission for 12 years until fired by Tricky Dick Nixon. He had a bit part in the film “Rudy” and holds the Guinness World Record for most honorary degrees (150).
I intended my first Popcorn Festival in Valparaiso in order to see the band Cracker. I ran into old softball teammate Dave Serynek and, as expected, Marianne, John, and Lorraine, who’d made a sign wishing guitarist Johnny Hickman a Happy Birthday. The band rocked, and the crowd sang “Happy Birthday” to Johnny when Lorraine and Marianne unveiled the sign. The Crawpuppies opened for Cracker and were great as well. David is on the mend from being hit by a car but still on crutches and wisely skipped the event.
IUN held a memorial service on the tenth anniversary of 9/11. A surprise guest was Clarence Green, who worked for Physical Plant and just got back from Iraq. His wife Suzanne, who works for SPEA, was by his side, as were their kids. The next morning Steve McShane appeared in a Times photo of the event.
After Robin Halberstadt told me that former student Linda Parker was chair of Portage High School’s History Department I sent her volume 41 of Steel Shavings. She thanked me in an email and added: “You were one of the most informative professors that I had in my teacher preparation. Perhaps because of the content, but more because of how you taught. There was never any down time. You kept the class moving and interesting. And, you taught me a very good lesson when a student makes a mistake. I mixed up Clarence Darrow and Wm Jennings Bryan on a quiz. Your comment to me was very supportive; you said you knew that I knew the difference between the two. Of course, it was still marked wrong. I learned to support effort and never make a student feel badly when they make an error, but to always hold them accountable so they learn from their mistakes. I've always wanted to thank you for that lesson. Now, I have.”
There was a big turnout at The Patio for the History Book Club discussion of Thomas Fleming’s book on the intimate lives of the Founding Fathers. Borrowing from what a Rolling Stone reviewer said about the second to last Harry Potter movie, I said the book, though well-researched, was like a teenage girl’s padded bra, all tease and no put-out. In other words, the title was misleading when it came to sexual revelations.
I won my first Fantasy Football match thanks to a record night Monday by Patriots QB Tom Brady. Also helping my cause were Bears RB Matt Forte and the Jets’ defense.
A Deejay was playing soft rap music on campus as part of Welcome Back Week, and several coeds were doing a suggestive line dance where they leaned way back and shook their boobies and then thrust their upper bodies forward and shook their booties. Passing out free condoms was a GLBT group, and the Muslim Student Association had an active table. Women at the Student Guides table were swaying to the music, and the Anthropology Club was signing up new members.
After my fiftieth reunion I wrote a semi-fictional saga based on someone taking Wendy’s Homecoming Queen tiara that she had brought with her, a mystery solved by one Captain Cardinal who in some ways resembled athletic star Percy Herder. Several people expressed the hope that I’d write an “all-encompassing” epilog, so here goes: Around the time he was planning a get together with classmates Rel and Jay in Gainesville, Jimmy heard that LeeLee, Sissy, and Captain Cardinal were delivering the tiara to Wendy in person at her Georgia plantation and that others were welcome to join them. Jimmy quickly convinced Rel and Jay to accept the invitation. Meanwhile, Susan decided to be part of LeeLee’s entourage. She still felt slightly regretful about skipping the reunion and was intrigued at the prospect of seeing Jay, whom she dated, and Rel, whom she had had a secret crush on, like many girls in her class. Delighted at the burgeoning number of guests, Wendy sent out a group email laying down two ground rules: no spouses but no sex. In response Captain Cardinal promised to leave his Viagra at home. Jimmy wondered if the Captain would be wearing his famous tiger-striped skivvies. Informing Jay that Susan was coming, he reminded him that they had double-dated to a ninth grade dance and afterwards Jay bragged that he had managed to rest a hand on Susan’s bare knee.
In school after Susan and two of her close friends were nicknamed the “Three Sues,” she started going by her given first name and Sue H became Suzi. She and Jimmy often were together at Terry and Judy’s, and both had become loosened up by the counter-culture phenomenon of the late-Sixties. At the 1990 reunion Jimmy was shocked but delighted when Susan asked him to dance to “Proud Mary.” They seemed to hit it off and traded anecdotes that the other had long forgotten. Jimmy recalled how disappointed she was one Christmas when her main present was a clock. He was interested to hear that her parents were political Lefties, an often persecuted group he greatly admired. “They probably voted for Henry Wallace in 1948,” he said. “They knew Henry Wallace,” she replied. Through Terry they had kept up on what each other was doing. Learning that Susan’s daughter was, like himself, a social historian, he sent along copies of a magazine that he edited for her to pass along. When Susan described doing physical labor on rental units, he imagined her looking like Meryl Streep in “Momma Mia!”
Showing posts with label Lorraine Todd-Shearer. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Lorraine Todd-Shearer. Show all posts
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
Modern Man
“Like a record that’s skipping
I’m a Modern man.
Feel all right and the clock keeps ticking,
I’m a modern man.”
Arcade Fire
Returned home alone for Marianne Brush’s end-of-the-summer party. She loved the Arcade Fire CD I gave her in lieu of bringing a dish and played it over a loud speaker after retrieving it from Missy, who had gone off with boyfriend Tyler to listen to it in the basement recreation room. I especially recommended song #3, “Modern Man.” Inside I watched part of the Notre Dame – Purdue game (an Irish victory in Coach Brian Kelly’s debut). Came across a Voodoo Chili photo album with pictures of Tim in various wild outfits and several shots of me singing with the band or dancing. Shed a tear conjuring up all the good memories. Couldn’t get anyone to toss beanbags and wished Dave were with me. Last year he played and sang for a couple hours with old Voodoo Chili band mate John Shearer on drums. Had a nice chat with John’s wife Lorraine, whose daughter Ashley was showing off her engagement ring. I pigged out on guacamole and chips. Back at the condo I battled a persistent fly until mellowing out and adopting a “live and let live “ attitude toward the pest. The latest On Demand “Curb Your Enthusiasm” episode featured a rapper named Crazy Eyes Killer who gets engaged to Cheryl’s best friend until she learns about his philandering as a result of his bragging to Larry about liking all colors when it comes to cunnilingus. The funniest moments involve Larry having a pubic hair stuck in his throat.
Ray and Trish Arredondo mailed me press releases for “Maria’s Journey” plus a copy of Viva Magazine whose cover story was my article about the book. One side was in English, and the flip side was in Spanish (“El recorrido de Maria: Libro profundiza sobre la vida de la mission de una mujer decidida a proporcionarle una vida major a su familia en los Estados Unidos”). Very cool. The publication used all three Times photos, including the cover shot of Maria and mother Rita, from whom she inherited her iron resolve.
Diamond, who came down with the Michiganders, greeted my arrival back in South Bend at noon Sunday. Like two weeks ago there were 12 Lanes and 12 Okomskis only instead of the Jerseyites Sonny and Mary were up from Florida and Toni’s nephew Kyle brought girlfriend Laura. Tom discovered Oliver, Nickolas, and Chloe under a tree by the seventh tee selling golf balls. My sons beat Sonny and me two out of three in pinochle; my revenge came in Texas hold ’em. After finishing second to Dave in the first game, I staged a miraculous comeback in the nightcap. To begin with, I barely escaped elimination when Lisa went all in against me with aces and queens. Dealt an ace five and with a second five in the flop along with a deuce and three I needed a four or five on the final card and got the latter, beating Lisa’s two pair with trip fives. After Dave knocked out Fritz, only the two of us remained. Phil was long gone, having had lousy cards. Dave had 80 percent of the chips until the key hand of the night, one he insisted I misplayed though I beg to differ. Starting with a king five of diamonds, I bumped the first bet. After a flop of two aces and a queen, Dave made a hefty raise. I called, guessing from his previous check that he didn’t hold an ace and was trying to bully me into folding (the same thing I’d have done in his shoes). If he held a king, the worst I could do was a tie. The only cards that could beat me were a queen or a pair. He went all in because he had a queen. I threw in my remaining chips and learned to my dismay that only a king could save me. Sure enough, the last card was a king. Suddenly others who had been knocked out started to take notice. After another big hand went my way thanks to two threes in the flop, Dave was on the defensive, sensing that I was on a hot streak. Taking a chance, he went all in with two face cards. Able to absorb a loss, I took a chance with an eight and nine of clubs and got two more eights on the flop. He couldn’t believe it. We both ended up with full boats, only his was six high and mine eights over sixes. Game over. First place money was worth fifty bucks.
On Labor Day morning Dave cooked “dirty” scrambled eggs (with ham and onions) and Polish sausage slices. Sitting around a table out back, Mary texted Garrett in New Jersey at my request, asking if he liked Arcade Fire, and explained her version of why grandson Sean “defriended” her and, adding insult to injury, told her, “That’s why Facebook isn’t for old folks.” She had defended Sean after someone had teased him, but he thought she over-reacted. He recently made Florida State’s track team as a long distance runner. Sonny joked about his brushes with death (his heart stopped for 20 minutes once, and on another occasion he was in a coma for 32 days) and his seven attempts to join the army despite a withered arm from having polio as a child. We all gathered on the front lawn, and neighbor Mr. Smith interrupted his lawn mowing to snap pictures from three different cameras. One might be our Christmas photo. Grace, with “Okomski eyes” just like her mother and grandfather, latched onto Kyle’s leg not wanting him to leave, then showed off for his benefit by tousling with her dad. Kyle and Laura followed us to the condo, and we had dinner at Appleby’s. Afterwards, at Porter Beach I pointed out Chicago’s Loop on the horizon and steel mills to the right and left. A Chicago suburbanite who grew up two blocks from the beach and returns every Labor Day promised to let the Archives make a copy of her childhood diary. Our first adult overnight guests, Kyle and Laura did some exploring and returned with a six-pack of Blue Moon from Wise Way, which Kyle drank with orange slices.
Received emails from Trish and Ray (needing jpegs for a “Maria’s Journey” website), a neighbor (complaining about how ugly the new trees look), Suzanna (thanking me for being there for her when she was a “grumpy old bear), and filmmaker David Gore (wanting to interview me for a documentary on Gary native Michael Jackson). I sent out a “Maria’s Journey” article to ‘O” (the Oprah magazine) and fellow Maryland grad student David Goldfield, editor of the Journal of Urban History. In Sweden, he recently mentioned me in the acknowledgements of his Civil War book, “America Aflame,” and looked forward to reading what I sent him when he returned to Charlotte (he teaches at UNCC). Toni, Kyle and Laura weren’t at the old house but located them with my cell phone (which I almost never use) at a fireworks warehouse. Flamingo’s wouldn’t let us in for lunch because Laura is only 19. Indiana has absurd liquor laws (why Flamingo’s restaurant area is different from Appleby’s is beyond me). We ended up at Wing Wah, where I ordered the Mongolian beef dinner.
We checked out an exhibit about shipwrecks at the Indiana Dunes State Park, located not far from our condo. I’d only ever been to the park a handful of times, mainly to visit people camping there, such as Herb and Evelyn Passo and Bob and Judy Selund. Of the 3,000 Lake Michigan sinking, about one-tenth occurred in its southern basin, including the J. D. Marshall in 1911. It had over 500 tons of sand on board when its hull sprang a leak while anchored a half-mile off shore east of Michigan City. We viewed some of its remains, including a huge cast iron propeller and a huge wrench. A sudden squall capsized the ship, and four crewmembers drowned. The nature center had other exhibits of interest, including one documenting how the park was created in 1925. Outside one window were bird feeders that attracted yellow finches, hummingbirds, mourning doves, nuthatches, and other varieties. There were models of predators, including a huge turkey buzzard similar to a pair I saw land in a tree near our Maple Place house. In a reading room I found “City of the Century” but no sign of my Shavings issue on “Tales of Lake Michigan and the Northwest Indiana Dunelands.” We drove to the old bathhouse and gawked at the large white cap waves, but with wind gusts reaching 45 miles per hour the sand was blowing around and stinging our exposed skin. Back home while Laura rested in preparation for her driving the first leg of the drive back to Philadelphia, we taught Kyle the dice game Shooters. He caught on right away. What a sweet guy. Toni’s youngest sister Donna died of cancer when he was a year old. His girlfriend Laura Schmitt did well in a situation that could have overwhelmed many 19 year-olds.
In the news: Terry Jones, a dimwit pastor of Dove World Outreach Church near Gainesville, Florida, is threatening to burn copies of the Quran unless he gets a message from God or President Obama ordering him not to do it. He has less than 50 parishioners but has received worldwide attention, and Muslims abroad have burned his likeness in effigy along with the American flag. General David Petraeus has warned that his action will put our troops in Afghanistan at risk, but the loony reverend appears to be relishing the attention.
I’m a Modern man.
Feel all right and the clock keeps ticking,
I’m a modern man.”
Arcade Fire
Returned home alone for Marianne Brush’s end-of-the-summer party. She loved the Arcade Fire CD I gave her in lieu of bringing a dish and played it over a loud speaker after retrieving it from Missy, who had gone off with boyfriend Tyler to listen to it in the basement recreation room. I especially recommended song #3, “Modern Man.” Inside I watched part of the Notre Dame – Purdue game (an Irish victory in Coach Brian Kelly’s debut). Came across a Voodoo Chili photo album with pictures of Tim in various wild outfits and several shots of me singing with the band or dancing. Shed a tear conjuring up all the good memories. Couldn’t get anyone to toss beanbags and wished Dave were with me. Last year he played and sang for a couple hours with old Voodoo Chili band mate John Shearer on drums. Had a nice chat with John’s wife Lorraine, whose daughter Ashley was showing off her engagement ring. I pigged out on guacamole and chips. Back at the condo I battled a persistent fly until mellowing out and adopting a “live and let live “ attitude toward the pest. The latest On Demand “Curb Your Enthusiasm” episode featured a rapper named Crazy Eyes Killer who gets engaged to Cheryl’s best friend until she learns about his philandering as a result of his bragging to Larry about liking all colors when it comes to cunnilingus. The funniest moments involve Larry having a pubic hair stuck in his throat.
Ray and Trish Arredondo mailed me press releases for “Maria’s Journey” plus a copy of Viva Magazine whose cover story was my article about the book. One side was in English, and the flip side was in Spanish (“El recorrido de Maria: Libro profundiza sobre la vida de la mission de una mujer decidida a proporcionarle una vida major a su familia en los Estados Unidos”). Very cool. The publication used all three Times photos, including the cover shot of Maria and mother Rita, from whom she inherited her iron resolve.
Diamond, who came down with the Michiganders, greeted my arrival back in South Bend at noon Sunday. Like two weeks ago there were 12 Lanes and 12 Okomskis only instead of the Jerseyites Sonny and Mary were up from Florida and Toni’s nephew Kyle brought girlfriend Laura. Tom discovered Oliver, Nickolas, and Chloe under a tree by the seventh tee selling golf balls. My sons beat Sonny and me two out of three in pinochle; my revenge came in Texas hold ’em. After finishing second to Dave in the first game, I staged a miraculous comeback in the nightcap. To begin with, I barely escaped elimination when Lisa went all in against me with aces and queens. Dealt an ace five and with a second five in the flop along with a deuce and three I needed a four or five on the final card and got the latter, beating Lisa’s two pair with trip fives. After Dave knocked out Fritz, only the two of us remained. Phil was long gone, having had lousy cards. Dave had 80 percent of the chips until the key hand of the night, one he insisted I misplayed though I beg to differ. Starting with a king five of diamonds, I bumped the first bet. After a flop of two aces and a queen, Dave made a hefty raise. I called, guessing from his previous check that he didn’t hold an ace and was trying to bully me into folding (the same thing I’d have done in his shoes). If he held a king, the worst I could do was a tie. The only cards that could beat me were a queen or a pair. He went all in because he had a queen. I threw in my remaining chips and learned to my dismay that only a king could save me. Sure enough, the last card was a king. Suddenly others who had been knocked out started to take notice. After another big hand went my way thanks to two threes in the flop, Dave was on the defensive, sensing that I was on a hot streak. Taking a chance, he went all in with two face cards. Able to absorb a loss, I took a chance with an eight and nine of clubs and got two more eights on the flop. He couldn’t believe it. We both ended up with full boats, only his was six high and mine eights over sixes. Game over. First place money was worth fifty bucks.
On Labor Day morning Dave cooked “dirty” scrambled eggs (with ham and onions) and Polish sausage slices. Sitting around a table out back, Mary texted Garrett in New Jersey at my request, asking if he liked Arcade Fire, and explained her version of why grandson Sean “defriended” her and, adding insult to injury, told her, “That’s why Facebook isn’t for old folks.” She had defended Sean after someone had teased him, but he thought she over-reacted. He recently made Florida State’s track team as a long distance runner. Sonny joked about his brushes with death (his heart stopped for 20 minutes once, and on another occasion he was in a coma for 32 days) and his seven attempts to join the army despite a withered arm from having polio as a child. We all gathered on the front lawn, and neighbor Mr. Smith interrupted his lawn mowing to snap pictures from three different cameras. One might be our Christmas photo. Grace, with “Okomski eyes” just like her mother and grandfather, latched onto Kyle’s leg not wanting him to leave, then showed off for his benefit by tousling with her dad. Kyle and Laura followed us to the condo, and we had dinner at Appleby’s. Afterwards, at Porter Beach I pointed out Chicago’s Loop on the horizon and steel mills to the right and left. A Chicago suburbanite who grew up two blocks from the beach and returns every Labor Day promised to let the Archives make a copy of her childhood diary. Our first adult overnight guests, Kyle and Laura did some exploring and returned with a six-pack of Blue Moon from Wise Way, which Kyle drank with orange slices.
Received emails from Trish and Ray (needing jpegs for a “Maria’s Journey” website), a neighbor (complaining about how ugly the new trees look), Suzanna (thanking me for being there for her when she was a “grumpy old bear), and filmmaker David Gore (wanting to interview me for a documentary on Gary native Michael Jackson). I sent out a “Maria’s Journey” article to ‘O” (the Oprah magazine) and fellow Maryland grad student David Goldfield, editor of the Journal of Urban History. In Sweden, he recently mentioned me in the acknowledgements of his Civil War book, “America Aflame,” and looked forward to reading what I sent him when he returned to Charlotte (he teaches at UNCC). Toni, Kyle and Laura weren’t at the old house but located them with my cell phone (which I almost never use) at a fireworks warehouse. Flamingo’s wouldn’t let us in for lunch because Laura is only 19. Indiana has absurd liquor laws (why Flamingo’s restaurant area is different from Appleby’s is beyond me). We ended up at Wing Wah, where I ordered the Mongolian beef dinner.
We checked out an exhibit about shipwrecks at the Indiana Dunes State Park, located not far from our condo. I’d only ever been to the park a handful of times, mainly to visit people camping there, such as Herb and Evelyn Passo and Bob and Judy Selund. Of the 3,000 Lake Michigan sinking, about one-tenth occurred in its southern basin, including the J. D. Marshall in 1911. It had over 500 tons of sand on board when its hull sprang a leak while anchored a half-mile off shore east of Michigan City. We viewed some of its remains, including a huge cast iron propeller and a huge wrench. A sudden squall capsized the ship, and four crewmembers drowned. The nature center had other exhibits of interest, including one documenting how the park was created in 1925. Outside one window were bird feeders that attracted yellow finches, hummingbirds, mourning doves, nuthatches, and other varieties. There were models of predators, including a huge turkey buzzard similar to a pair I saw land in a tree near our Maple Place house. In a reading room I found “City of the Century” but no sign of my Shavings issue on “Tales of Lake Michigan and the Northwest Indiana Dunelands.” We drove to the old bathhouse and gawked at the large white cap waves, but with wind gusts reaching 45 miles per hour the sand was blowing around and stinging our exposed skin. Back home while Laura rested in preparation for her driving the first leg of the drive back to Philadelphia, we taught Kyle the dice game Shooters. He caught on right away. What a sweet guy. Toni’s youngest sister Donna died of cancer when he was a year old. His girlfriend Laura Schmitt did well in a situation that could have overwhelmed many 19 year-olds.
In the news: Terry Jones, a dimwit pastor of Dove World Outreach Church near Gainesville, Florida, is threatening to burn copies of the Quran unless he gets a message from God or President Obama ordering him not to do it. He has less than 50 parishioners but has received worldwide attention, and Muslims abroad have burned his likeness in effigy along with the American flag. General David Petraeus has warned that his action will put our troops in Afghanistan at risk, but the loony reverend appears to be relishing the attention.
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