Here Comes the Sun

“Into each life

Some rain must fall.” 

  Ray Charles, “Drown in My Own Tears”

Neighbor Dave expressed interest in albums I’ve been meaning to get rid of that are in our garage, in particular two by Credence Clearwater Revival that I have on CD.  Coming across Steve Winwood’s “Arc of a Diver” and Jackson Browne’s “Running on Empty,” I decided to bring them to the basement because I’m not sure if I have those on CD.  I thought I did but couldn’t find them last time I looked.  I passed on a couple Beatles albums but also salvaged a Ray Charles LP and have been playing a 1956 Time/Life greatest hits of 1956 CD that includes “Drown in my Own Tears.”

With my back still sore from the plane trip back from California, I paid as visit to my old reliable chiropractor Manuel Kazanas, who gave me an adjustment that did the trick.  Then after downing two Taco Supremes I checked out Oliver Stone’s “Savages,” about a couple guys who marketed primo weed facing Mexican thugs who seek to horn in on their business.  I closed my eyes a few times during the violent parts but enjoyed it.  John Travolta is a hoot as a corrupt federal drug agent.  Drug scenes played a large part in several of Stone’s previous movies, including “Platoon” and “The Doors.”  On the soundtrack is Peter Tosh’s “Legalize It,” but my favorite was Malaysian singer Yuna’s version of “Here Comes the Sun.”

James slept over Friday, so in the morning I cooked up bacon and pancakes – with chocolate bits for him and blueberries for me.  Dave and Tom came over for gaming, and in the afternoon I went to Paul Kaczocha’s annual picnic.  Fortunately the wind shifted, dropping the temp almost 20 degrees to a tolerable 84.  As I drove down County Line Road in Miller, a long line of cars was leaving, indicating to me that the Gary Air Show was over. Turning onto Oak St. a terrific noise startled me.  After a moment I realized that it was a plane from the air show.  I arrived the same time as Alice Bush, who was carrying deviled eggs.  Her son Mike showed up briefly but claimed he couldn’t turn off his car motor for fear it wouldn’t start up again.

At the picnic I got into a lively discussion with Jim Balanoff, Jr., and Mike Olszanski.  Oz and I put out a Shavings magazine called “Steelworkers Fight back” about the 1977 USWA election involving Ed Sadlowski for union president and Balanoff’s dad for district director.  Jim claimed that when his dad ran for re-election in 1981 Eddie secretly supported Jack Parton in return for being promised a position as sub-district director.  We discussed which event had the greatest impact on American history, the assassinations of JFK and RFK or 9/11.   All three were sad days for America.

I had a mild interest in the Wimbledon finals, rooting for ultimate winners Serena Williams and Roger Federer.  I enjoyed the commentary of John McEnroe, whose clashes with umpires 30 years ago were legendary.  Now with cameras able to show down to the millimeter whether or not a ball is out, outbursts by players are few and far between.

James and I fitted 60 more pieces into the thousand-piece Rock and Roll Puzzle.  Even though it was hard on the back, I stayed with it after he left while watching the White Sox lose to Toronto, 11-9.  They still have a three-game lead over Cleveland going into the All-Star break, but Detroit is finally making its move.

I’ve decided that when I get more “Valor” books I’ll send inscribed copies to Don Ritchie (who re-enforced my belief in the efficacy of oral history”) and Ira Berlin to put in Maryland’s H. Samuel Merrill seminar room bookcase (I’ll dedicate it to Marion Merrill, Sam’s faithful sidekick, who nurtured a cohort of grad students).

Judge Miroc selected “Wolves against the Moon” to report on to the History Book Club.  When I was researching pioneers Joseph and Marie Bailly for ”City of the Century,” I consulted it even though it is a fictionalized account of their lives.  Of French and Indian descent, Marie live for a time with Ottawa among the Ottawa and was the first woman settler in Northwest Indiana, and her life symbolized the merging of French and Indian culture and the destruction of that way of life by western expansion.  A devout Catholic, she was a missionary to tribesmen who frequented her husband Joseph’s trading post.

                     (home to Joseph and Marie Bailly at the time of their deaths in 1835 and 1866)

IUN Bookstore manager Donna DeGradi reports that she is unable to stock the book about women’s diaries, “Private Pages,” so I will substitute “Wild Girls: Girlhoods in the Counterculture,” edited by Chelsea Cain with a foreword by Moon Unit Zappa.  “The diaries in “Private Pages” were often prosaic, so this may be a blessing in disguise.

Aylesworth Musical Program

Last evening I attended Aylesworth Elementary School’s spring musical program featuring international folk songs performed by second graders, including granddaughter Becca, who was really into it. The opening song, “What a Wonderful World,” set the tone and reminded me of excellent recorded versions by Louis Armstrong and Joey Ramone. Becca was one of four people selected to act out a Zimbabwe greeting song called “Sorida.” She told me afterwards that her favorite number was “Australia’s on the Wallaby.” The final part of the program featured fourth graders playing instruments called recorders, which were similar to flutes. The place was packed, and I noticed that Portage seemed much more diverse racially than when Phil and Dave were in school 30 years ago.

Radio sports jocks were salivating over all the stuff going on last night on TV, including the Black Hawks, the Bulls, the Cubs, the White Sox, and the NFL draft. I watched the anemic Cubs lose to the Mets but was happy my Philadelphia teams, the Phillies and the Flyers, won. Jamie Moyer, age 47, pitched great, and in hockey the Flyers took their initial Stanley Cup series from the Jersey Devils.

Between the road trip and work around the house my back has been bothering me, so this morning I paid a visit to chiropractor Manuel Kazanas, whose adjustments have been godsends on various occasions when I have thrown my back out. One time right before heading to Saudi Arabia for a three-week teaching stint I tried to get in too much yard work and could barely move until many worked his magic. I probably go to him no more than one or two times a tear, but he never pressures me to schedule a return visit.

WDRV (97.1, “The Drive”) has been playing classic rock songs from A to Z. On the way to Manuel’s I heard “Born to Be Wild” and “Born to Run.” After the adjustment I was back in the car and heard “The Boxer” and “Boys Are Back in Town.” Taking boxes for packing to the car, I discovered a slow leak in a back tire and got it fixed (it picked up a nail) for ten bucks (plus five dollar tip) at a place in Lake Station. WDVR was just starting on the C’s (“Cadillac Ranch”) by the time it was ready.

When I attend my fiftieth high school reunion in October, perhaps I’ll give a humorous talk on girls I had crushes on, starting with Judy Jenkins, Carol Schuman, and Pam Tucker. I originally thought I’d do the historian thing and sum up some of the key events that occurred during our senior year in politics (West Virginia primary), civil rights (sit-ins), world affairs (Castro), and popular culture (the twist). On the sports talk radio show “Mike and Mike” the two guys frequently use the term “man crush” to describe admiring someone excessively and wanting to be their friend (“Seinfeld” did an episode where Jerry had a man crush on Mets first baseman Keith Hernandez and was jealous when Keith wanted to have a date with Elaine). The guy in school I wanted so badly to be friends with was Dick Garretson, a great, zany guy. We were friends but I wasn’t as close to him as, say, Bob Reller or Buck Elliott was.

Former student Jeff Renn wants me to speak to members of the Hobart Kiwanis Club next Wednesday at 7:30 in the morning. I’m torn between a serious topic based on my Gary book or something spicier, such as “Social Life in Hobart,” featuring bars, July Fourth celebrations, bowling alleys, sports, high school high jinx, and the Jaycee Fest. I did something similar in Steve McShane’s class (see my February 26 blog called “Indiana History”) that seemed to work.