“Deep down in Louisiana close to New Orleans,
Way back up in the woods among the evergreens.
There stood a log cabin made of earth and wood,
Where lived a country boy name of Johnny B. Goode.
He never ever learned to read or write so well,
But he could play the guitar like ringing a bell.”
“Johnny B. Goode,” Chuck Berry
There’s a site of famous people who went by the name Johnny. If fictional characters counted, Johnny B. Goode should be on the list along with Johnny Appleseed. I’d also nominate comedian Carson, singer Cash, quarterback Unitas, and actor Depp. There’s a Famous Johnny’s Comedy Club in Kansas City and Famous Johnny’s Pizza Parlour in San Bruno, California. Ain’t the Internet great?
Toni and I saw “Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows” with Jeff Hagelberg and girlfriend Mai Mai followed by dinner at Appleby’s. We’ve known Jeff, the son of old friends Dick and Cheryl, since he was a kid. An accomplished pianist, he gave us a CD one Christmas of original compositions. Before his high school prom, Toni gave him dance lessons. She put on a Time/Life compilation of 1958 hits, including fast songs like “Johnny B. Goode” (“some day your name will be up in lights” - I still know the words by heart) and slow ballads like “Just a Dream” by Jimmy Clanton. They visited Purdue in West Lafayette in the morning and encountered traffic on the way back but joined us inside the theater just as the feature was starting. I have seen the previous installments but haven’t read J.K. Rowling’s books. I knew the main characters, including arch villain Lord Voldemort, but the plot nuances escaped me. The best I could make out, four Horcruxes (the first being as locket) need to be destroyed. The three “hallows” or sacred objects include a resurrection stone, a wand, and an invisibility cloak. The latter allows the wearer to escape Death. Cute little elf Dobby gets killed by Bellatrix Lestrange, played delightfully by Helena Bonham Carter, leaving some in the audience (but not me) teary-eyed during the maudlin burial scene. The English accents seemed more pronounced than in former episode, so much of the dialogue went over my head. Harry (Daniel Radcliffe) and Hermione (Emma Watson) have a simulated nude scene together but they seem to be wearing silver paint and no private parts are revealed.
Mai Mai is from Beijing and a grad student at Boston University who met Jeff on line. She seemed interested at Appleby’s in hearing about my history activities and 1994 visit to China. I told her about Alissa’s senior class trip and mentioned Diana Chen Lin’s book about Peking University, subtitled “Chinese Scholarship and Intellectuals, 1918-1937,” which might be a nice Christmas present for her and Jeff. Diana said she has given most of her copies away but will look for one.
At a condo board meeting we approved the budget for the upcoming year. As secretary, I had to pay attention to details about the cost of grass cutting, mulching, painting, plowing, insurance, and the like. One owner filed for bankruptcy, so no monthly dues ($175) is coming in from her. Another owner is three months behind and often pays partial amounts rather than the entire $175. I frequently got us back on subject or calling for a vote.
On the “Dancing with the Stars” finale (they can really drag things out, but, hey, it’s the top rated show on TV) Christina Aguilera sang, “Show me How You Burlesque” from her new movie with Cher. Would anyone recognize her without the tons of make-up she wears? Bristol was first eliminated and then Jennifer got the well-deserved victory over Kyle Massey. Turned to the Bulls-Lakers game and was impressed with Derrick Rose and Joakim Noah but was in bed by the time the contest ended (a 98-91 Laker win).
Darcy invited us for Thanksgiving dinner. I promised to bring cheery cobbler, an easy to make dessert using cherry pie filling, canned crushed pineapples, white cake mix and butter.
Purdue Cal student Zachary Davis wanted information about the history of the Region for his own edification and a possible film documentary. I told him about the Archives and offered to mail him “Gary’s First Hundred Years.” Who can turn down a freebie unless they suspect strings attached? Heard from Suzanna, who has been having heart trouble. She has been working hard on Christmas presents and wrote: “This year I made gifts for my daughters and grand daughters and that took quite a lot of time. I did a cross stitch for Melissa, a quilted table runner for Rebecca, crocheted scarves for Jenna and Sarah and a bonnet and scarf for Shelby, a crocheted purse for Darien and a painting for Christina and a crib blanket for Shyanne.” She apologized for not having anything exciting to report, but I cherish just being in touch with such a sweet person.
Post-Trib columnist Jeff Manes wrote a nice tribute to Lowell historian Dick Schmal, who died recently. For years Schmal (the name is the same as Chuck Gallmeier’s wife Barb) wrote a Pioneer History column, inspired by his predecessor Timothy H. Ball, who wrote the first history of Lake County. Schmal was particularly interested in places largely forgotten with the passage of time such as the ghost town of Conrad near Lake Village or Baum’s Bridge near Kouts, once used by members of hunting lodges. Cedar Lake had a local historian, Beatrice Horner, whose work was similar to Schmal’s and whose research was invaluable when I began researching the history of that remarkable community.
Mary Delp Harwood thinks Wendy had a different crown on from the one she wore in 1960. If so, maybe it is valuable, with real diamonds worth stealing. LeeLee suggested that I incorporate the coincidence that her nephew was crowned Homecoming King the night of our reunion. So here’s the lasted installment of the Mystery of the Missing Tiara”: “Before meeting with Wendy, the Captain leafed through his old yearbook looking for possible clues. Coming to the page dealing with the Homecoming Queen’s “coronation,” he studied the crown atop Wendy’s head, as she danced with boyfriend Vince. It looked different from the tiara Wendy had at the reunion. Was it possible that Wendy had purchased a new, expensive crown and that it was worth more than its mere sentimental value? The captain also arranged to have lunch with Myrna and Mary to see if he could eliminate the African Americans as suspects. Both dismissed the theory that they harbored any resentment as absurd and told him that Wendy had been very friendly at the reunion. After examining Myrna’s nametag, she exclaimed, “Myrna!,” and asked how she was doing. She recognized Mary, the lone black student in her College Prep classes, and recalled how Jimmy used to get in trouble in Latin class turning around to joke with her. The Captain also contacted Nancy, after learning from Myrna that she was compiling a CD of reunion photos, including a cell phone video showing the tiara passed to LeeLee, Christine, and Flossie, three of the most popular girls in school, as well as a fourth person the Captain didn’t recognize. It was Louise, whom classmates used to tease unmercifully after she mentioned winning a baby beauty contest. Nancy recalled seeing Louise at breakfast sitting alone near Wendy’s luggage. Could this be a clue to solving the mystery, the Captain wondered, or another dead end? Getting out his old yearbook looking for further clues, the Captain noticed that LeeLee’s maiden name was the same as the last name of a present student at Upper Dublin who had been crowned Homecoming King on the same night as the reunion dinner dance. The following night there had been a dance at the high school honoring the new queen and king. Is it possible, the Captain wondered, if the missing tiara had been given to one of the honorees as a joke?
“Wendy agreed to meet the Captain at a tavern in North Hills, the community where most of their black classmates came from and some still lived. The jukebox contained mostly recent rap hits and soul tunes but included a few old standards such as Big Mama Thornton’s original rendition of “Hound Dog.” On hand were sisters Mildred and Theresa as well as Myrna and Gloria. Behind the bar was a faded clipping from the Captain’s gridiron days at Upper Dublin, showing him in the backfield with one of the legendary Cottom brothers who later married Mildred. Wendy arrived wearing a colorful outfit that resembled an African dashiki and gave everyone at the Captain’s table big hugs. They all expressed sorrow at her loss and said they’d do anything they could to help solve the case. Pat Z made a surprise appearance and assured everyone that his practical jokester days were over. He had recently talked with Judy G, who had been on Wendy’s Homecoming Court and wanted her to know how much she admired her grit. Wendy was so overwhelmed by the warm vibes that when Chuck Berry’s “Johnny B. Goode” started playing, she got up and started dancing a jig, which soon morphed into a twist when others joined in. Pat even did an imitation of Chuck Berry’s duck walk that had everyone in stitches. The evening was complete when Wendy found “Tears of a Clown,” her favorite Motown song, on the jukebox. She was wailing away by the time Smokey Robinson got to the lines, “Just like Pagliacci did, I try to keep my surface hid.” Afterwards she stifled an impulse to brag how she saw the Leoncavallo opera about clowns, “I Pagliacci” in 1992 in Milan, Italy, on the hundredth anniversary of its original opening.”
Finished a draft of my review of Kate Buford’s biography of Jim Thorpe for Salem Press. I start out with this quote from King Gustav V at the Stockholm Olympics, 1912: “You, sir, are the greatest athlete in the world. I would consider it an honor to shake your hand.” Then I write: “Winning the pentathlon and decathlon in Sweden was the highlight of Jim Thorpe’s athletic career, and he never fully recovered from having the medals capriciously stripped from him in 1913 despite an Olympic rule stating that disqualification must occur within 30 days. His alleged transgression: having received a few dollars playing for a semi-pro baseball team, commonplace among collegiate contemporaries. Native American Son examines in depth the triumphs and tragedy befalling an enigmatic, mixed-blood Indian icon whose hero was Sac and Fox chief Black Hawk. Uncomfortable with the celebrity status thrust upon him, Thorpe was “a gentle person,” according to Buford, “intelligent and funny, with many flaws.” In this balanced, meticulous treatment by the author of Burt Lancaster: An American Life, fascinating details unfold concerning Thorpe’s three marriages and his relationship with Carlisle Indian Industrial School coach Glenn Scobey “Pop” Warner and New York Giant manager John “Little Napoleon” McGraw. Both nurtured his talents but exploited him for selfish purposes. Thorpe shined during a five-year career with the Canton Bulldogs, an original National Football League team, and was a charter inductee into the Pro Football Hall of Fame. An alcoholic in later life, Thorpe died a pauper shortly after being named the world’s greatest all-around athlete of the first half of the twentieth-century. International Olympic Committee (IOC) President Avery Brundage stubbornly rebuffed efforts to reverse the 1913 decision, saying, “Ignorance is no excuse.” Thorpe deserved better from a nation that did not recognize Native Americans as citizens until 1924 and from the Olympic movement he had helped nurture. In 1982, 29 years after his death and ten years after Brundage’s retirement, the IOC reinstated Thorpe’s awards.”
Bowled a 497, and the Engineers won five points out of seven. Our captain, Bill Batalis, filled in admirably for Robbie, and Melvin broke out of a slump and finished with a 200 game, well over his average. John Gilbert, an old softball teammate came over to wish me a Happy Thanksgiving and said he just missed an 800 series with two games in the 270s. I call him Johnny, and he calls me Paw since I’m the only person other than his father who ever called him Johnny.
Showing posts with label Mary Delp Harwood. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Mary Delp Harwood. Show all posts
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
Blast from the Past
“Mild apprehension
Blank dreams of the coming fun
Distort the odds of a turnaround”
From MGMT’s “Flash Delirium”
Among the hundred emails awaiting me upon my return from Michigan was one from an old girlfriend whom I went out with the summer between high school and college. Suzanne found me through Facebook and wrote: “ I have fond memories of our growing up experiences together that summer when I was 15.” Holy cow! I thought she was at least 16 (she was going into eleventh grade). Lucky I never ventured further than second base. It was 1960, and I was just thrilled to have an attractive, steady girlfriend who was a great kisser. Her email mentioned that she has been married twice, had six kids, and has had many job experiences, including caseworker, counselor, EMT, and midwife. I wrote back: “I have fond memories of you, too, and I’m sorry for any and all stupid things I might have done during that time. I blame it on the time and my immaturity. I remember being with you at a state fair and seeing Louis Armstrong perform, and being at your house with a horrible case of poison ivy. You were a real sweetheart. A couple summers after we stopped going together I was at a party at Paul Curry’s (he died in Vietnam tragically) across from your house and almost knocked on your door. Sounds like you are doing well despite life’s vicissitudes. Six kids – that’s quite an accomplishment.” Suzanne responded to my email thusly: “I was so truly delighted to see that you answered my note- in -a -bottle via cyber space. You were my first real boyfriend and so I surely never forget anything about that. We had a wonderful summer... we were young... all self perceived immaturities are forgiven and taken into account, of course, and I hope you do the same for me. We were very different people but just what we needed at the time, I do believe.” In my reply I succumbed to the temptation to bring up anecdotes of the two of us parking. As I put it, “My hormones were raging then, so I have memories mostly of making out with you (isn’t that terrible?).” She mentioned that she is now very religious – a Mennonite, in fact – so I may not hear from Suzanne again. I hope that is not the case, however. This is how I ended my second email: “I apologize if this has been too intimate. I am in touch with numerous Upper Dublin classmates, including Mary Delp, whom I dated in ninth and tenth grade. She recalled my father (who died at age 50) driving the two of us from the movies to a dairy bar on Bethlehem Pike and waiting in the car while we went inside for something to eat. I had no memory of that, and it was great adding that anecdote to the memories I have of my father.”
Soon to retire Chancellor Bruce Bergland thanked me for the “Retirement Journal.” I sent him and called me a “pillar of IU Northwest.” He called me Jimbo, as he always does, and concluded, “I’ll always treasure your friendship.” I’m a little rough on him in the journal for the way he treated Vice Chancellor Aggrey, so I hope he likes it (maybe he won’t get that far). There’s a line in the MGMT song “Flash Delirium” from their new CD “Congratulations” that goes: “I can stand by my pillar of hope it’s just a case of flash delirium.”
Monday evening I went to the Patio for the Merrillville History Club presentation of Lester Langley’s “The Americas in the Age of Revolution.” One fellow was bemoaning the instability of Latin American countries compared to ours, and I mentioned that during the Cold War the United States did much to destabilize countries and prop up dictators. Afterwards, Joy Anderson emailed, “I wanted to let you know that I thought your insightfulness into the role that our foreign policy played interfering in the governments of Central and South America was an excellent point. I can remember the campus unrest when I was in college regarding the backing of the right wing dictators, pouring money into countries that was supposed to help the general population but just lined the pockets of the corrupt leaders.”
I saw the movie “Death at a Funeral” starring two of my favorite comedians, Chris Rock and Tracy Morgan. It’s pretty gross but very funny. There’s a midget blackmailer who shows up with photos of him having sex with the dead man (Chris Rock’s father). Aaron (Rock) tells his brother Ryan (Martin Lawrence): “Let me get this straight: our dad was having gay sex with a guy that could fit in his pocket, and you're mad because he's white?” Danny Glover is hilarious as a thoroughly crabby Uncle Russell. One running joke involves a bottle of pills marked “valium” (inadvertently taken by three people) that in fact are powerful psychedelics. They cause people to freak out. The James Marsden character takes off all his clothes and gets up on the roof to gawk at nature. In the final scene someone has medicated Uncle Russell to calm him down and we see him naked on the roof commenting on how green everything looks.
Toni and I went shopping for basement furniture for the new condo and bought a sofa set at Value City plus a table and chairs. Jim, the salesman, was a real pro and was so low pressure it was a joy to do something (shop) that I normally dislike. We had sandwiches at a place called Heavenly Ham. Toni was able to buy a ham soup bone for five dollars.
I attended the weekly meeting of the Hobart Kiwanis in order to get volunteers for my Hobart Oral History Project. Students in Steve McShane’s summer Indiana History class will do projects relating to the town’s social history. I’m scheduled to talk with them during their first class next Tuesday. About 20 people filled out the questionnaire and agreed to be interviewed, including funeral director Jim Burns, who donated a coffin for a school exhibit about the perils of drunk driving that was intended to be an object lesson for those going to the prom and whose son Jimmy was one of my best students. In fact, Jimmy wrote an article in my 1990s issue “Shards and Midden Heaps” about wrestler Alex Ramos, who saved Jimmy’s sister Christy and saved her life after they were involved in a horrific accident. I happened to have a copy of the Nineties volume with me and gave it to Burns. The Kiwanis speaker was 87 year-old Dwight Carter, was a marine corpsman who landed at Iwo Jima 65 years ago as part of the original invasion force and who lost 40 pounds during the 37 days he was on the front lines. He had a belt where he had made an extra notch to hold his pants up. He had enlisted in 1942 “For the Duration,” as he put it. Twice marines died within ten yards of him. He recently returned to Iwo Jima, now in Japanese hands, for a ceremony honoring both Americans and Japanese who fought there. Both the Chicago Sun-Times and the Post-Tribune had front-page stories about his journey, which first took him to Honolulu and Guam. There had also been a 50-year commemoration, but he didn’t go because of his wife’s poor health. At the end of his presentation the Kiwanians gave him a standing ovation.
There’s a great scene in Richard Russo’s novel “Straight Man” where Hank is having lunch with his dean in one of the few places still open in the fictitious western Pennsylvania town of Railton. The lounge is in a bowling alley, and near them a lone bowler yells out “cocksucker” when he leaves a split. “Nice ambience,” Hank glibly tells his boss. “Nice nose,” the dean replies. Earlier during a department meeting colleague Gracie Dubois, an earth mother type, hit him with a notebook after he made a snide remark disparaging her poetry. Later Hank’s mother chastises him for being clever, saying that cleverness is a poor substitute for true creativity. Me, I’ll settle for clever.
Blank dreams of the coming fun
Distort the odds of a turnaround”
From MGMT’s “Flash Delirium”
Among the hundred emails awaiting me upon my return from Michigan was one from an old girlfriend whom I went out with the summer between high school and college. Suzanne found me through Facebook and wrote: “ I have fond memories of our growing up experiences together that summer when I was 15.” Holy cow! I thought she was at least 16 (she was going into eleventh grade). Lucky I never ventured further than second base. It was 1960, and I was just thrilled to have an attractive, steady girlfriend who was a great kisser. Her email mentioned that she has been married twice, had six kids, and has had many job experiences, including caseworker, counselor, EMT, and midwife. I wrote back: “I have fond memories of you, too, and I’m sorry for any and all stupid things I might have done during that time. I blame it on the time and my immaturity. I remember being with you at a state fair and seeing Louis Armstrong perform, and being at your house with a horrible case of poison ivy. You were a real sweetheart. A couple summers after we stopped going together I was at a party at Paul Curry’s (he died in Vietnam tragically) across from your house and almost knocked on your door. Sounds like you are doing well despite life’s vicissitudes. Six kids – that’s quite an accomplishment.” Suzanne responded to my email thusly: “I was so truly delighted to see that you answered my note- in -a -bottle via cyber space. You were my first real boyfriend and so I surely never forget anything about that. We had a wonderful summer... we were young... all self perceived immaturities are forgiven and taken into account, of course, and I hope you do the same for me. We were very different people but just what we needed at the time, I do believe.” In my reply I succumbed to the temptation to bring up anecdotes of the two of us parking. As I put it, “My hormones were raging then, so I have memories mostly of making out with you (isn’t that terrible?).” She mentioned that she is now very religious – a Mennonite, in fact – so I may not hear from Suzanne again. I hope that is not the case, however. This is how I ended my second email: “I apologize if this has been too intimate. I am in touch with numerous Upper Dublin classmates, including Mary Delp, whom I dated in ninth and tenth grade. She recalled my father (who died at age 50) driving the two of us from the movies to a dairy bar on Bethlehem Pike and waiting in the car while we went inside for something to eat. I had no memory of that, and it was great adding that anecdote to the memories I have of my father.”
Soon to retire Chancellor Bruce Bergland thanked me for the “Retirement Journal.” I sent him and called me a “pillar of IU Northwest.” He called me Jimbo, as he always does, and concluded, “I’ll always treasure your friendship.” I’m a little rough on him in the journal for the way he treated Vice Chancellor Aggrey, so I hope he likes it (maybe he won’t get that far). There’s a line in the MGMT song “Flash Delirium” from their new CD “Congratulations” that goes: “I can stand by my pillar of hope it’s just a case of flash delirium.”
Monday evening I went to the Patio for the Merrillville History Club presentation of Lester Langley’s “The Americas in the Age of Revolution.” One fellow was bemoaning the instability of Latin American countries compared to ours, and I mentioned that during the Cold War the United States did much to destabilize countries and prop up dictators. Afterwards, Joy Anderson emailed, “I wanted to let you know that I thought your insightfulness into the role that our foreign policy played interfering in the governments of Central and South America was an excellent point. I can remember the campus unrest when I was in college regarding the backing of the right wing dictators, pouring money into countries that was supposed to help the general population but just lined the pockets of the corrupt leaders.”
I saw the movie “Death at a Funeral” starring two of my favorite comedians, Chris Rock and Tracy Morgan. It’s pretty gross but very funny. There’s a midget blackmailer who shows up with photos of him having sex with the dead man (Chris Rock’s father). Aaron (Rock) tells his brother Ryan (Martin Lawrence): “Let me get this straight: our dad was having gay sex with a guy that could fit in his pocket, and you're mad because he's white?” Danny Glover is hilarious as a thoroughly crabby Uncle Russell. One running joke involves a bottle of pills marked “valium” (inadvertently taken by three people) that in fact are powerful psychedelics. They cause people to freak out. The James Marsden character takes off all his clothes and gets up on the roof to gawk at nature. In the final scene someone has medicated Uncle Russell to calm him down and we see him naked on the roof commenting on how green everything looks.
Toni and I went shopping for basement furniture for the new condo and bought a sofa set at Value City plus a table and chairs. Jim, the salesman, was a real pro and was so low pressure it was a joy to do something (shop) that I normally dislike. We had sandwiches at a place called Heavenly Ham. Toni was able to buy a ham soup bone for five dollars.
I attended the weekly meeting of the Hobart Kiwanis in order to get volunteers for my Hobart Oral History Project. Students in Steve McShane’s summer Indiana History class will do projects relating to the town’s social history. I’m scheduled to talk with them during their first class next Tuesday. About 20 people filled out the questionnaire and agreed to be interviewed, including funeral director Jim Burns, who donated a coffin for a school exhibit about the perils of drunk driving that was intended to be an object lesson for those going to the prom and whose son Jimmy was one of my best students. In fact, Jimmy wrote an article in my 1990s issue “Shards and Midden Heaps” about wrestler Alex Ramos, who saved Jimmy’s sister Christy and saved her life after they were involved in a horrific accident. I happened to have a copy of the Nineties volume with me and gave it to Burns. The Kiwanis speaker was 87 year-old Dwight Carter, was a marine corpsman who landed at Iwo Jima 65 years ago as part of the original invasion force and who lost 40 pounds during the 37 days he was on the front lines. He had a belt where he had made an extra notch to hold his pants up. He had enlisted in 1942 “For the Duration,” as he put it. Twice marines died within ten yards of him. He recently returned to Iwo Jima, now in Japanese hands, for a ceremony honoring both Americans and Japanese who fought there. Both the Chicago Sun-Times and the Post-Tribune had front-page stories about his journey, which first took him to Honolulu and Guam. There had also been a 50-year commemoration, but he didn’t go because of his wife’s poor health. At the end of his presentation the Kiwanians gave him a standing ovation.
There’s a great scene in Richard Russo’s novel “Straight Man” where Hank is having lunch with his dean in one of the few places still open in the fictitious western Pennsylvania town of Railton. The lounge is in a bowling alley, and near them a lone bowler yells out “cocksucker” when he leaves a split. “Nice ambience,” Hank glibly tells his boss. “Nice nose,” the dean replies. Earlier during a department meeting colleague Gracie Dubois, an earth mother type, hit him with a notebook after he made a snide remark disparaging her poetry. Later Hank’s mother chastises him for being clever, saying that cleverness is a poor substitute for true creativity. Me, I’ll settle for clever.
Monday, September 28, 2009
Political Willpower
In an email Fred McColly, who has a blog of his own, fears that Obama won’t have the political willpower to avoid escalating the war in Afghanistan. He wrote: “Why is it that some jabbering neo-con freaks on the crypto-fascist Fox network can overcome the collective memory of what it is like to fight a determined guerilla force? Vietnam analogies were all wrong for Iraq...but they fit Afghanistan...do you think Barack will have the balls to pull the plug on this before it rewinds the whole nightmare? Maybe someone will realize the country's bankrupt (financially and ethically) before we get in any deeper. It's been more than thirty years since the last real quagmire. My gut feeling is that the powers that be have forgotten long ago.
Nicole Anslover asked me to critique her proposal for a Summer Faculty Fellowship. She basically wants to revise her PhD dissertation, entitled An Executive Echo Chamber. In summarizing the first chapter on Harry Truman’s foreign policy she wrote: “I argue that although his diplomacy evolved out of necessity, his actions led directly to the Vietnam War. However, by the time Eisenhower took office, the world situation had changed and continuity was not necessary. I told her the proposal was fantastic and that she should be a shoo-in for a Fellowship. I added this paragraph: “One thing you might think about: you have Truman making police in Asia “out of necessity” while I’d argue that converting a policy intended for Europe into a worldwide policy was foolhardy (this was George Kennan’s view) and that we should have looked to normalize relations with “Red China.” If containment was “out of necessity,” the reason was political (McCarthyism), not geopolitical.” Nicole replied: “Thanks! All your suggestions are very helpful. I completely agree with Truman's policy being foolhardy -- I make the argument that the "necessity" was his own personal feeling, due to his inexperience, limited world view, and having no idea what steps FDR would have taken. I'm looking to develop that idea completely in the revisions.”
Speaking about change and continuity, President Obama was very critical of Bush’s foreign policy but is close to upping the ante in Afghanistan with possibly disastrous consequences. Fighting the Taliban is one thing, but we are dangerously close to getting tied too closely with the regime in power and engaging in nation-building.
I’m sending copies of the Retirement Journal to friends whose emails I used, including grad school buddy Ray Smock and high school friends Phil Arnold, Gaard Murphy Logan, Wendy Henry Wellin, Mary Delp Harwood, and Terry Jenkins. Hopefully I don’t write anything that they will find embarrassing. I describe Gaard as someone who “lived a semi=hippie life in San Francisco for years.” We spent a day with Gaard and husband Chuck while in Washington with Beth, Alissa, and Miranda and I wrote that for several years they “went to Mexico for long periods in a VW van and lived for two dollars a day in a trailer park. Gaard put her first husband through NYU law school. After the dean got all the wives together and told them to expect their spouses to be married to school and career, she fled and started a new life more open to adventure.”
Took volume 40 and copies of “The Signal” retrieved from IU Northwest Bookstore to Henry Farag’s office at the Star Plaza while picking up tickets for the Steely Dan concert on November 7. Henry graciously offered me four free tickets to his “Ultimate Doo Wop Show” on November 21 and expressed interest in doing more writing for Steel Shavings. He is upset at the power of big moneyed interests to thwart meaningful change in health care and other areas. Both he and Fred McColly kept journals in the Spring of 2003 that I used in my “Ides of March” issue (volume 36). They were opposed to Bush’s war against Saddam Hussein’s regime and appalled at how docile the press was at the time. Fred titled his journal “Orwellian Times” and started with the George Orwell quote: “The illiteracy of Politicians is a special feature of our age.” Henry wrote: “The terrorist attack of September 11 is the catalyst. Everything is now security or safety or the illusion of it. A truly unprecedented tragedy has turned into a right cross on our body politic. Bush gave Congress a budget request for the war of $74.7 billion, and that was described as a down payment. Forty-eight million people don’t have health insurance, millions are out of work, and hundreds of federal programs have been cut. The Feds are operating on a $500 billion deficit, and over 30 states are in debt, but somehow we can come up with $75 billion (which translates in government arithmetic to $200 billion or more) in a flash.”
Nicole Anslover asked me to critique her proposal for a Summer Faculty Fellowship. She basically wants to revise her PhD dissertation, entitled An Executive Echo Chamber. In summarizing the first chapter on Harry Truman’s foreign policy she wrote: “I argue that although his diplomacy evolved out of necessity, his actions led directly to the Vietnam War. However, by the time Eisenhower took office, the world situation had changed and continuity was not necessary. I told her the proposal was fantastic and that she should be a shoo-in for a Fellowship. I added this paragraph: “One thing you might think about: you have Truman making police in Asia “out of necessity” while I’d argue that converting a policy intended for Europe into a worldwide policy was foolhardy (this was George Kennan’s view) and that we should have looked to normalize relations with “Red China.” If containment was “out of necessity,” the reason was political (McCarthyism), not geopolitical.” Nicole replied: “Thanks! All your suggestions are very helpful. I completely agree with Truman's policy being foolhardy -- I make the argument that the "necessity" was his own personal feeling, due to his inexperience, limited world view, and having no idea what steps FDR would have taken. I'm looking to develop that idea completely in the revisions.”
Speaking about change and continuity, President Obama was very critical of Bush’s foreign policy but is close to upping the ante in Afghanistan with possibly disastrous consequences. Fighting the Taliban is one thing, but we are dangerously close to getting tied too closely with the regime in power and engaging in nation-building.
I’m sending copies of the Retirement Journal to friends whose emails I used, including grad school buddy Ray Smock and high school friends Phil Arnold, Gaard Murphy Logan, Wendy Henry Wellin, Mary Delp Harwood, and Terry Jenkins. Hopefully I don’t write anything that they will find embarrassing. I describe Gaard as someone who “lived a semi=hippie life in San Francisco for years.” We spent a day with Gaard and husband Chuck while in Washington with Beth, Alissa, and Miranda and I wrote that for several years they “went to Mexico for long periods in a VW van and lived for two dollars a day in a trailer park. Gaard put her first husband through NYU law school. After the dean got all the wives together and told them to expect their spouses to be married to school and career, she fled and started a new life more open to adventure.”
Took volume 40 and copies of “The Signal” retrieved from IU Northwest Bookstore to Henry Farag’s office at the Star Plaza while picking up tickets for the Steely Dan concert on November 7. Henry graciously offered me four free tickets to his “Ultimate Doo Wop Show” on November 21 and expressed interest in doing more writing for Steel Shavings. He is upset at the power of big moneyed interests to thwart meaningful change in health care and other areas. Both he and Fred McColly kept journals in the Spring of 2003 that I used in my “Ides of March” issue (volume 36). They were opposed to Bush’s war against Saddam Hussein’s regime and appalled at how docile the press was at the time. Fred titled his journal “Orwellian Times” and started with the George Orwell quote: “The illiteracy of Politicians is a special feature of our age.” Henry wrote: “The terrorist attack of September 11 is the catalyst. Everything is now security or safety or the illusion of it. A truly unprecedented tragedy has turned into a right cross on our body politic. Bush gave Congress a budget request for the war of $74.7 billion, and that was described as a down payment. Forty-eight million people don’t have health insurance, millions are out of work, and hundreds of federal programs have been cut. The Feds are operating on a $500 billion deficit, and over 30 states are in debt, but somehow we can come up with $75 billion (which translates in government arithmetic to $200 billion or more) in a flash.”
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
Old Salts
The Sunday Post-Tribume's Neighbors section is a treasure trove for Calumet Region historians. Until recently, Bob Burns had a column dealing with the origins of small communities. Now there's a "Behind the Name" feature that on August 23 concentrated on former U.S. Steel plant superintendent William Palmer Gleason. My "Gary's First Hundred Years" Centennial history of Gary is quoted several times, including my assessment that Gleason treated workers like cogs in his machine. Here is another quote: "Like his hero Napoleon, Lane has written, "he was overbearing, egotistical, and tyrannical. E.C. Rosenau called Gleason the 'Godfather of the Steel City.' His motto was 'It Can Be Done' and when he wanted something, he had little use for those who questioned his methods."
Also in Neighbors are columns by octogenarian Carrol Vertrees on the perils and pleasures of old age and by Jeff Manes on Region characters that he calls "Old Salts." On my advice he did one on Elvis Tribute Show producer and Vietnam Vet Omar Farag (a friend of mine and former softball teammate), and now he wants to do one on me when my retirement journal comes out next month. If I had more funds available, I'd do a special issue of Shavings featuring his "Old Salt" columns. The most recent deals with bean-spitting champ Willie Curtis. Manes always starts his column with quotes - this time it's from a Jim Croce song about pool shark Willie "Slim" McCoy.
Speaking of Salts: Coincidentally, my tenth grade girlfriend Mary Delp (Harwood) now uses an email address with “oldsalt” in it because she and her husband are Lake Michigan boaters. We still see each other every 5 or 10 years at Upper Dublin High School “Class of 1960” reunions and in between trade information on classmates and our respective families. A couple years ago, in Mary's Christmas card was a photo of the two of us on our way to a formal dance. I look about 10 years old but drove us in the family’s 1956 yellow and white Buick. I recall trying to pass a truck on a three-lane highway when suddenly a car was coming down the middle lane in the other direction. I’m lucky we weren’t killed. I don’t think Mary even realized what a close call it was. I'm also in touch with Bob Reller (Rel), Phil Arnold, Joe and Barbara Ricketts, Gaard Murphy (Logan), and Pam Tucker (Randolph). While my high school days were not without trauma and insecurities, I'd relive those "Happy Days" in a minute, especially knowing what I know now.
Also in Neighbors are columns by octogenarian Carrol Vertrees on the perils and pleasures of old age and by Jeff Manes on Region characters that he calls "Old Salts." On my advice he did one on Elvis Tribute Show producer and Vietnam Vet Omar Farag (a friend of mine and former softball teammate), and now he wants to do one on me when my retirement journal comes out next month. If I had more funds available, I'd do a special issue of Shavings featuring his "Old Salt" columns. The most recent deals with bean-spitting champ Willie Curtis. Manes always starts his column with quotes - this time it's from a Jim Croce song about pool shark Willie "Slim" McCoy.
Speaking of Salts: Coincidentally, my tenth grade girlfriend Mary Delp (Harwood) now uses an email address with “oldsalt” in it because she and her husband are Lake Michigan boaters. We still see each other every 5 or 10 years at Upper Dublin High School “Class of 1960” reunions and in between trade information on classmates and our respective families. A couple years ago, in Mary's Christmas card was a photo of the two of us on our way to a formal dance. I look about 10 years old but drove us in the family’s 1956 yellow and white Buick. I recall trying to pass a truck on a three-lane highway when suddenly a car was coming down the middle lane in the other direction. I’m lucky we weren’t killed. I don’t think Mary even realized what a close call it was. I'm also in touch with Bob Reller (Rel), Phil Arnold, Joe and Barbara Ricketts, Gaard Murphy (Logan), and Pam Tucker (Randolph). While my high school days were not without trauma and insecurities, I'd relive those "Happy Days" in a minute, especially knowing what I know now.
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