2010 election

“She used to have a carefree mind of her own
with a devilish look in her eye
Saying ‘You can call me anything you like
but my name is Veronica’”
Elvis Costello

The other night granddaughter Rebecca came down to what Toni calls my man-cave to call me for dinner. I was listening to “Veronica,” so we danced together until it was over. Becca is a great mimic, like her mother Angie, and would do any move I did almost instantaneously. Paul McCartney co-wrote “Veronica,” which is about Costello’s aging grandmother who suffered from dementia (one line goes, “These days I’m afraid she’s not even sure if her name is Veronica”). It is also about the fleetingness of youth and the ravages of aging, as Veronica “sits in her favorite chair and she sits very quiet and still.” Veronica was also the sultry dark-haired love interest in the Archie Comics series. Growing up in the era of Marilyn Monroe when gentlemen and teenage kids were programmed to prefer blondes, I fancied Betty.

The dreaded day finally arrived after weeks of being bombarded with TV attack commercials and doom and gloom predictions of a Republican landslide. Toni and I voted for the first time at Brummit Elementary School about a mile from our condo. I voted straight Democratic, not knowing all that much about local candidates. Congressman Pete Visclosky was a shoo-in despite recent revelations concerning his biggest former campaign contributor, and on the other hand the Democratic candidate for Senator, Brad Ellsworth, had no realistic hope to defeat Republican Dan Coats, even though slimeball Coats moved away from the state after his first stint in the upper chamber and became a lobbyist for big corporations. The super rich have hoodwinked a majority of the electorate into believing that Republicans will be fiscally responsible despite lusting to extend tax breaks for those making more than $250,000. Republicans picked up at least 60 House seats, the biggest Democratic setback since 1938 (also hard economic times). Stinkpot John Boehner will replace Nancy Pelosi as House Speaker. Since the Democrats will retain control of the Senate, the Republicans will undoubtedly continue to be the party of NO and, as Minority leader Mitch McConnell put it, make the defeat of Obama in 2012 their top priority. As Susan McGrath wrote, “such a short-sighted bunch, these people of the USA.” Senate-elect Marco Rubio, the 39 year-old Cuban-American, was honest enough to say, with blond wife Jeanette at his side, that the result was not an endorsement but rather the last chance for the Republican Party. At least wingnut Sharron Angle lost in Nevada to Harry Reid and Sarah Palin-endorsed Tea Party goof Joe Miller (he with the perpetual three-day beard) is losing to write-in candidate Lisa Murkowski in Alaska. Unable to stomach the election news (even Obama’s old Senate seat went Republican), I switched to “Dancing with the Stars” and watched impressive performances by Taylor Swift and Rod Stewart, augmented by the show’s dancers. Palin’s daughter Bristol is still alive, as the more talented Rick Fox got the axe. I was sure he’d last longer than the other jock, soulless Kurt Warner. Former basketball player Fox was once married to the luscious Vanessa Williams, a fox herself.

Commenting on the so-called rise of the Tea Party, Fred McColly wrote: “Tonight is supposed to be another version of populist rage and I cannot help but feel sorry for anyone who actually believes that the Tea Party can actually overcome Hamiltonian government by special interest...these people are not going to be a majority in the Republican party, much less Congress. They were going to march on whoretown and turn it on its ear...except they can't. So what can they do when they get to the capitol, or the state legislatures, or the governor's mansion, or city hall and discover this besides become obstructionist?” Fred predicted that “the foul slide into the 2012 campaign” is about to begin. Have to agree with him.

At a planning meeting for the December 9 Wall of Legends event I strongly recommended that Henry Farag and original Spaniel Willie C. Jackson be invited to speak on behalf of honoree Vivian Carter, the founder of Vee-Jay, the first major African-American record label. Others the committee recommended were State Senator Earline Rogers and an area deejay from the era of the Fifties. The other honoree, Purdue Calumet professor John Maniotes, was a pioneer in the computer field. At the meeting the daughter of Maniotes suggested that a good finale might be a song or two from the Spaniels since her dad is a doo-wop fan. That would be great but, as I told John, they normally receive a couple thousands dollars per performance and it probably would be tacky to expect them to sing for free. So it probably isn’t practical unless it happened in a spontaneous way or if they’d accept a modest honorarium.

Toni’s sister Mary Ann informed me that Sonny’s friend Harry died recently. A 79 year-old former Korean War vet, he was a gentle soul whose eyesight had gotten so poor, he gave up driving a car and took a golf cart to his job as a grocery store checker. Once a cop stopped him as he was crossing the highway at an intersection and warned him not to do it again. With no other way to get to work he asked Sonny for advice. Sonny told him the cop was a jerk and to keep going to work only try to avoid the cop if possible. Harry liked to take donuts to guys who congregated in the park. It evidently was a gay hangout. One day the cops raided the place and detained Harry. He had done nothing wrong, so no charges were brought against him. Still, his name got in the paper, and it was embarrassing for him. Again Sonny stuck by him and gave him good advice.

Stanley Cup

The Blackhawks won the Stanley Cup finals in six games, their first championship since 1961 (icons Bobby Hull and Stan Mikita were youngsters), on an overtime goal from a tough angle by young stud Patrick Kane. At first there was confusion over whether the puck went in the net, but the replay left no doubt. I had been rooting for the Flyers and would have loved the series to go seven games, but I’m a Blackhawk fan, too, and enjoyed the celebrations afterwards. Sightings of players and the Cup itself have occurred ever since the charter flight landed in Chicago late last night. Lord Stanley’s Cup dates back to 1892, when the Governor-General of Canada had it made to reward the top amateur team. It weighs about 32 pounds, and hockey has a nice tradition where everyone on the team can take it anywhere he chooses for a day. WXRT has been playing the Hawks’ unofficial theme song “Chelsea Daggers” by the Fratellis (like the Ramones, the last names of all members of this Scottish alternative band are Fratelli). Jon Fratelli sang between the second and third period of game 5, pretty interesting since what they play at the games is the instrumental hook. The words, in fact, are risqué (i.e., “I was good she was hot . . . gave me gear thank you dear bring your sister over here”). Toni’s sister Mary Ann emailed her daughters before the game to get their Rosary out. The Flyers were warriors and did Philadelphia proud. The Conn Smythe trophy probably should have gone to goalie Antti Niemi, but since it clearly was a team victory, perhaps it was appropriate for captain Jonathan Toews to receive it.

After Henry Clay’s son Theodore had an accident that resulted in a blow to the head, doctors performed a procedure called trepanning that involved drilling into the skull to drain fluid from the cranium. Theodore suffered from uncontrollable fits and then dementia, no thanks to what now seems to be a barbaric procedure. While in the Kentucky legislature Clay jousted with a Federalist relative of Chief Justice John Marshall, climaxing with a duel with pistols. Each fired three rounds; Clay suffered a slight thigh wound.

I sent Jerry Davich’s Post-Tribune article about Gary’s Gay Pride parade, whose theme was “Free To Be, Me,” to Anne Balay. She contacted him about publicizing her oral history project “Steel Closet.” He promised to mention it on his blog and perhaps in print. He has a big blog following, including my buddy Darcey Wade. Anne is attending the two-year anniversary bash at Sappho’s Salon featuring controversial feminist guest performer Holly Hughes. I learned on Google that Holly was one of the so-called NEA Four, to wit, as I told Anne: "Hughes, a New York performance artist, was penalized for having allegedly stuck her hand up her vagina–a gesture that, however mutually rewarding for audience and performer, occurred during a federally funded performance, which the NEA felt violated its obscenity rules." Anne replied: “Doesn't she know there's daemons in there?!?!? Great quote!” I had to look up the meaning of “Daemon” and learned that in Greek mythology they are spirits, both good and evil, such as love (or lust) that lie somewhere between the mortal and the divine.

Alissa emailed from Barcelona: “Hola! Since I wrote last I have been couch-surfing (online network of travelers who stay on people's couches rather than hostels/hotels). It is the best thing since sliced bread. I honestly had no idea how much I would love this. We have had 3 hosts- a guy named Nabil in Paris, a woman named Beatrice and her two children in Rouen, and now 2 guys & 2 girls in Barcelona. Without even having met us, Nabil bought us all tickets to a concert (Air & the Hot Rats- Air did the soundtrack for the movie 'The Virgin Suicides') Very cool. Took us to all these places around the city that tourists don't go to. Had picnics (Parisians are obsessed with picnics) and saw a night view from a church overlooking the city. Beatrice is who I want to be when I grow up. She hangs out with an ex drummer of some French punk band from the 80ś and once sold her car so she could afford to travel through Africa. She lives in a small town in France where no one watches their children because it is so safe. We almost kidnapped her son, Melchior because he is the cutest little French child in the world. Gonzalo, Lu , Caro and Koldo are pure bohemian awesomeness. They own almost nothing. Everything that they do have in their home was salvaged from days when rich people throw out their old things. Their living room is a constantly changing mural because everyone they meet adds to it so they can remember the people who pass through. We wish we were half as cool as these people but they seem to really like us. We’re making them dinner tonight even though we leave for our hostel today.” The adventure continues. Toni and I were in Barcelona two years ago with Jim and Kate Migoski, and Toni almost had her purse snatched in a hotel lobby. The city was dirty, but I had a good time walking down Las Ramblas and gawking at the street performers. Big Jim and I posed with a garish woman in a fat lady outfit.

Mitch Lenyo wanted advice on going back to school, perhaps to pursue an advanced degree in history. He worries that his writing skills are deficient. He’d like to be a lawyer but the cost of law school is astronomical. Several times he’s expressed interest in moving to Hawaii, something I did in 1965 after quitting law school and getting married. I emailed back: “I am always reluctant to advise students to attend grad school unless they really enjoy research; also the job market is very tight in that field. You'd be a good high school teacher and might consider IUN's Urban Teacher Education program (UTEP). I still think establishing residency in Hawaii is for you. You could look into the cost of law school, the need there for teachers, etc. IUN just started a Masters program in Liberal Studies that involves developing writing and research skills.”

Someone from the university approached me who hoped I could be an unofficial adviser to IUN’s newspaper, the Northwest Phoenix, reading copy beforehand to make sure nothing scandalous gets published. I declined and replied that doing that can be a slippery slope, as I learned in 1979 when I held a similar role while teaching a course on the history of American journalism. Some people blamed me for things in the paper and saw me as a power behind the throne. For that reason I left all final decisions on what went in to the editors, John Petalas and Joe Salacian. Plus I don’t believe in censorship.

Former Education professor John Ban brought 30 seniors to the university to learn about the Archives and Region history. I did my audience participation “Age of Anxiety” talk that had worked so well at the Chesterton (Duneland) Historical Society. I resisted a temptation to add anecdotes about a guy in Hammond who found a rat in his toilet bowl and about a woman who attended a burlesque show in Cal City. One stripper was so obese and large-breased that she could swing a boob over her shoulder. A Steel Shavings subscriber among the seniors asked if I regretted being so personal in my “Retirement Journal.” Another, Dolores Armenth, told me she’s in my Fifties issue, having been interviewed by one of my students, Angela Grizzle. I actually used three photos of Delores in volume 23. She told Angela Grizzle that cigarettes cost 25 cents a pack and that “my friends and I had to look in the encyclopedia to see what men looked like without clothes.” She added that “sex was acceptable between engaged couples, but most young people I knew had sex with only one person during high school.” Before my talk I told an anecdote about Ban defeating me in a ping pong tournament and then withdrawing due to a bad back. I told John that I wanted to bring back former Faculty Organization chairmen to gavel to order meetings in the coming year. He chaired the Faculty Org three times during the 1980s and thought it was a fine idea. He mentioned graduating from high school in 1950 and going to work in the mill, where people told him to get an education and don’t be stuck working such a dirty job. I love running into people ten years older than I who are vibrant and intellectually active. Tom Higgins, whose memoir of being at Horace Mann and going to Ted’s Drive-In got laughs, is another role model. Located where Routes 12 and 20 came together near Aetna, Ted’s had waitresses dressed like drum majorettes who’d sometimes dance if you gave them money for the juke box.