Category Archives: Family

Pre-Holiday Nattering

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Back again after the Memorial Day weekend, when it will be June already. June, now that’s a fine month.

Lilly arrived for a short visit today. We all went out to a restaurant to eat this evening. Sounds ordinary, but that was the first time since March 2020. We went to the last place we all went together that month, SGD, or So Gong Dong, a Korean place with about a dozen locations in the Midwest and on the Eastern seaboard. It’s a wonderful place, glad it survived.

My meal. 

As usual with a commencement program that lists everyone’s full names, I spent some time during Ann’s graduation on Monday examining those names, and again just now. As usual, the variety is remarkable.

Last names, for instance: Ahmed, Awdziejczyk, Bhandar, Cwik, Degrazio, Garcia, Gomberg, Jayawardena, Jones, Kaspari, Kobe, Lavrynovych, Mapembe, McCoy, Michalowski, Nguyen, O’Connor, Onilegbale, Picadi, Schoefernacker, Shah, Stribling, Wang.

Common names aren’t so common. There are no Smiths and two Joneses, three Browns and one Johnson (and a single Johnston) and a pair of Williamses. There are four Garcias and three Sanchezes but only two Gonzalezes and one Hernandez and one Gomez. Rodriguez is fairly common: seven. No one is named Kim, though there is a Lim. The aforementioned Wang is the only one.

Far and away the most common surname among the Class of ’21 is Patel. How many? Twenty-one. It’s a common name from Gujarat state on the west coast of India, and apparently Patels are well-represented in the diaspora.

One reason: Idi Amin. “When Idi Amin turfed out some 100,000 Indians (mostly Gujaratis) from Uganda in 1972, most of them descended on Britain before peeling off elsewhere,” notes the Economic Times of India. The timing was right, since the U.S. had junked its racist immigration policies that effectively kept out most South Asians only in 1965.

“There are said to be more than 500,000 Patels scattered across the world outside India, including some 150,000 each in Britain and the US,” the paper continues. A good many in the northwest suburbs of Chicago, clearly. Then there’s this associated term, which I’d never heard before.

During research for an article not long ago, I came across the persnickety food site Eat This Not That!, whose very title screams judgmentalism. One article is called “20 Vegetarian Foods That Are Surprisingly Aren’t.”

The subhead: These supposedly animal-free foods will make you gag, regardless of your dietary lifestyle.

I don’t have anything against principled vegetarianism or veganism, though I don’t plan to be either. But I do think an article that essentially says, Look how gross food additives are! is an exercise in simplemindedness. Overthink just about any food and you can say it’s repulsive.

The additives the articles objects to include animal bones, sheep’s wool, pork fat, shellfish, bird features, beaver musk, crushed beetles, fish bladders, pig hooves and calf stomachs. I don’t see that list and think, ew, gross. I think damn, human beings are awfully clever, using the most unlikely things to improve our food. Is that not a virtue among primal peoples anyway — using every part of the animal?

My favorite entry:

If you’re eating … Lucky Charms
You’re also consuming … Animal Bones
Those marshmallow moons, clovers and horseshoes are made with gelatin, derived from animal collagen (aka cartilage, skin, tendons, bones). True veg-heads — and those who keep kosher, and cannot mix milk and meat — have known this for years, staring regretfully at the taunting leprechaun. Also containing gelatin: Smorz, Fruity Marshmallow Krispies, and Rich Krispies Treats Squares.

There may be legitimate reasons not to eat a lot of sugar-coated cereal, but animal collagen doesn’t strike me as one of them.

Ann’s Graduation

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Ann’s high school graduation was yesterday evening at the venue formerly known as Sears Centre in Hoffman Estates, Illinois. These days it’s named after a supplement maker. There’s much money to be had in the patent medicine biz, not so much in department stores.

Afterward, pictures.

Kevin was able to join us, and we all sat in the same “pod.” Meaning a block of seats. As expected, some seats were closed via plastic cords, others not. Also as expected, our pods didn’t involve cones of silence.

I’ll Add It: No Air Horns Please

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Ann will be attending an actual in-person high school graduation ceremony next week. We’ll be there too. Detailed instructions arrived today via email.

ARRIVAL OF GRADUATE

6:00 p.m. Enter the N Arena at Door 11

Arrive dressed in business casual, with their cap, gown, tassel (right side) and mask already on — no flip flops.

Bags, purses, flowers, balloons, cell phones, etc. are not allowed and students will not be admitted with these items, no exceptions.

Graduates must wear their mask and keep it on for the entire ceremony.

Graduates will walk through metal detectors and have their gown unzipped to expedite the screening process.

Graduates will be directed to the main floor and report directly to their assigned seat.
All graduates’ names will be read as some may be viewing remotely. Please wait to hear your name before walking forward on the stage.

ENTRANCE FOR GUESTS

Beginning at 6:00 p.m. – Main Entrance

Guests will enter at the Main Entrance of the N Arena

Please be mindful of social distancing guidelines as you approach the entrance.

All guests must have your mask on and ticket(s) ready as you approach the door.

Please note: The N Arena has implemented a Clear Bag Policy, which is detailed at nowarena.com. This limits the size of bags entering the Arena and requires the majority of bags to be clear to streamline the security screening. Exceptions made for medical, family or child care bags or small clutches, no larger than 4.5’” x 6.5”.

Note: there’s more, but nothing in there about air horns.

Vintage Procrastination Cards

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A few years ago, I found a yellowing envelope at my mother’s house tucked away in some files that obviously hadn’t been touched for many years. It wasn’t sealed, so I looked inside, intrigued. Unfortunately, it wasn’t a stash of high-denomination bearer bonds or some such.

Instead, there were six large note cards of an odd size, 7⅝ ” x 5¼ “, printed on white paper only slightly yellowed. There’s a theme to them all, with this sentence running over each of six different cartoons: I would have written sooner… but…

Procrastinator cards. Just Google that term and you can see it’s a small genre.

The cards include an illustrative cartoon and caption. This is one of the six.Country Cousin cards - Inertia Smith

If I had to guess, I’d say 1950s vintage. They don’t strike me as anything my mother would have bought. Maybe someone gave them to her — maybe one of my aunt’s many gag gifts to her. That would have been in character, anyway. It also would have been in character for my mother to tuck them away, even though she had no intention of ever sending them. She might have considered them too silly to use.

They are silly.
Country Cousin cards - Inertia Smith
Actually, the term dopey comes to mind, but that’s just me. Of course, humor doesn’t age well, but it could be that even in the 1950s, these weren’t very funny. At least, my mother probably didn’t think so.
Country Cousin cards - Inertia Smith
The back of each card attributes them to an outfit called Country Cousin of Lake Placid, New York, but there’s no address or date or copyright mark. A simple search turns up nothing about it. The illustrations are signed “Inertia Smith.” That name doesn’t turn up much except two people using it for a name on Facebook.

Those are the only three I’m going to scan, because the other three include hopelessly racist caricatures, featuring Africans, American Indians and Chinese characters. The one depicting Africans manages to work “mau-mau” into the text, a more direct clue pointing to the ’50s. Best to leave them in the envelope. You could argue that standards were lower then, as indeed they were, but I wouldn’t be posting them in the 1950s, I would be in the 2020s.

Ann at 18

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No more minors in the house. No miners, either, but that’s a different matter.

Ann’s birthday pie, chocolate cream, with a 1 standing in for a decade, and because we didn’t have an 8, there are eight smaller candles, one per year, to go with the decade.
Ann is wearing a birthday present, one of those hoodies you wear inside to keep warm. Lilly is watching on the screen behind the pie.
They say your kids grow up fast. Nah. It’s taken a while.

Thursday Postscripts

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Beverly Shores, Indiana, pop. 600 or so, is completely surrounded by Indiana Dunes NP. One way to get to the town, or the national park for that matter, is to take the South Shore Line from Chicago. If you do so, the place to get off is at Beverly Shores station.
Beverly Shores Train StationSince its renovation in recent years, the station also includes an art galley. Closed when we got there.
Beverly Shores Train StationWhen I’m pretty sure no train is nearby, it’s hard to resist a shot of the rails converging off toward the horizon. The rails go on forever in a silver trail to the setting sun.
near the Beverly Shores Train Station

Arthur Gerber designed the station in 1929. “Gerber was the staff architect for Samuel Insull, who then owned the line, [and] it is one of several examples of an ‘Insull Spanish’ style used on the rail line,” writes historic preservationist Susie Trexler.

Insull must have been fond of the style. “Say, Gerber, old man, whip up some more Spanish-style stations.”

After all, look at his mansion, which is generally classified as Mediterranean.
Cuneo Mansioncuneo mansionBetter known as the Cuneo Mansion, for its second owner, but utility magnate Insull had it built. Above are shots I took when we visited. When was that? I couldn’t remember till I checked. Ten years ago.

The fellow interred in the Beyond the Vines columbarium at Bohemian National Cemetery is Benjamin George Maldonado, 34, who died unexpectedly of an undiscovered brain cyst, according to a column in the Tribune by John Kass.

“The priest gave a great eulogy of Ben,” Kass quoted Maldonado’s widow as saying. “His urn had a baseball on top. We all signed the baseball that went into the wall. There were sandwiches and sodas, and we had a picnic. He was so young. A headstone would have been so somber.”

The man who created the columbarium, whom Kass also quotes, was Dennis Mascari. He’s interred there now as well.

My brother Jay is skeptical that the parade pictures posted on Sunday were taken in September 1967, he told me by email. Two reasons: yellow foliage and people wearing a little more than they would on a very warm Texas September day.

As Jay points out, mid-September is far too early for changing leaves. But I color corrected the images. In the original, faded now for more than half a century, it’s hard to tell whether the leaves are green or yellow. Denton Texas 1967

In the color corrected version, some of the leaves look green, some yellow. I don’t know whether that reflects the original color of the leaves, or the color-correction process itself. So I’d say the leaf colors are inconclusive.

The clothes are a more compelling argument. The kid on the top of the station wagon is indeed wearing more than any kid would in high 80s temps, and so is the woman on the flatbed, and maybe the men leaning against that vehicle, who seem to be wearing long-sleeve shirts or jackets. Of course, the members of the band would wear their uniforms no matter how hot it was. I remember some sweaty times in my own band uniform, about 10 years later.

“When is it then?” Jay writes. “I don’t know. I know that the Denton HS band was one of many high school bands that participated in the NTSU homecoming — which sources online say was November 11, 1967 — but: (1) I have no recollection of a parade, only of marching in formation on the playing field, and (2) if there was a parade, it seems odd that it’s heading away from NTSU rather than towards it, as it appears to be the case here. Of course, the fact that I don’t remember a parade isn’t dispositive, nor is the direction.”

Ah, well. Guess we’ll never know for sure. The lesson here is to write the date on the back of physical prints. But even that is an increasingly obsolete bit of advice.

Myrick Nathan 1875Here’s Nathan Myrick, founder of La Crosse, Wisconsin, whose for-certain public domain image I obtained. Founding a town is more than most people get to do.

It occurs to me that I’ve now visited all of the 15 largest municipalities in Wisconsin, and maybe the 20 largest, though I don’t remember visiting New Berlin, but as a Milwaukee suburb, it’s likely that I passed through.

Is that important for some reason? No. But for a state in which I’ve never lived, I’ve been there a lot. As an old Chicago friend of mine once said, one of the amenities of living in the Chicago area is access to Wisconsin. I agree.

Hickory Street Parade, Denton, Texas, 1967 (Probably)

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I have a photo book holding a scattering of images made when my family lived in Denton, Texas, which was from 1965 to ’68. There are perhaps two dozen pictures. Photos were only made on special occasions, such as my birthday or when family visited from out of town.

Three of the pictures are of the Denton High School band, of which my brother Jay was a member, marching down Hickory St., which is the street our house was on, in 1967.  The edge of the photos says Aug 69, but that only means we didn’t get around to developing the film for almost two years.
Denton Texas Hickory Street Sept 13, 1967 That is not me sitting on a car in the first image. My mother must have taken the shots with our Instamatic 104, since I don’t think she would have been interested in fiddling with the more complicated cameras that my father left behind. Provided we had our Instamatic by then, which seems likely.

She stood on the sidewalk on Hickory St., probably near its intersection with Denton St.
At least, the angle of the third picture makes me think that’s where she stood. One the houses not far west of that point is still there, though deeper blue.

I must have watched the parade, but I have no memory of it. At the time I was six, and had just started first grade at Sam Houston Elementary School in Denton. I walked to school, so it wasn’t far away. There’s a school of that name still in the Denton ISD, but it’s far from where we lived and has a late 20th century look to it.

Thinking about it now, I suspect the school I went to was already old when I went there — maybe built in the ’20s to update whatever rudimentary facilities the town had before that. I expect the building I knew is long gone.

Also: here’s the house where we lived. The house is a different color now, but the enormous tree is still in the front yard! It seemed so vast to my boyhood self. Then again, it is pretty big. An old maple that produced huge leaves. Or was it an oak that produced huge acorns? Both kinds of trees were in the neighborhood and I would collect their scatterings.

I digress. Why was there a parade on that day in Denton, Texas? One possibility is that it was part of the September 13 publicity celebration for the regional premiere of Bonnie and Clyde, which was at a movie theater near the courthouse, only a few blocks to the east of where we lived. Parts of the movie were filmed in North Texas, near Denton, in places that could easily pass for 30 years earlier. The University of North Texas published an article a few years ago about the filming and the regional premiere.

Some of the stars of the movie rode in a small motorcade down Hickory to the courthouse square, and naturally the high school band had to be part of it. If my mother took any pictures of the movie stars, they’ve been lost. But I seriously doubt she did. Taking pictures of her son’s band is one thing, but actors in a movie (I suspect) she had no interest in seeing? Naah.

Late Summer Thursday Stew

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A package arrived in the mail for Lilly today from UIUC.

“Your high GPA has earned you the privilege of graduating Cum Laude…. This accomplishment, which is referred to as Latin Honors, is also recognized by a special bronze cord,” the enclosed letter said. “Because we were unable to have an on campus commencement ceremony in May, we will be mailing cords to the mailing address you have on file with campus.”

Sure enough, the package also included a bronze cord, looking something like a curtain accessory. Lilly’s already in the Pacific Northwest, so she’ll have to wait for one of us to deliver it in person, since I’m not planning on re-mailing it.

Never got a Latin Honor myself. Missed it by a whisker of GPA, I think. But I don’t really remember, and in nearly 40 years, that fact has never come up at any time for any reason.

I’m surprised some of these TV shows count as public domain. Then again, under the copyright rules before Disney put its imprint on the law, copyright holders had to renew after a certain number of years, and I expect many producers didn’t bother. The other day I watched the first episode of Car 54, Where Are You? It had its amusing moments.

Summer is ebbing away. I’m trying to spend as much time on my deck as possible. A refuge from work and word of the troubled world beyond my little spot.

A few days ago, after work but before dinner, I parked myself on the reclining deck chair on the deck and managed to take a nap. My family marveled at that, considering the heat and noise of the cicadas. But it wasn’t that hot that late in the day, and the sound of cicadas is something to drift off to sleep to, though not as soothing as cricketsong.

I’m about half way through The Unredeemed Captive by John Demos (1994), which Lilly and Ann gave to me last Christmas, on a tip (I believe) from one of Ann’s teachers.

“The setting for this haunting and encyclopedically researched work of history is colonial Massachusetts,” Penguin Random House says. “There, in February 1704, a French and Indian war party descended on the village of Deerfield, abducting a Puritan minister and his children. Although John Williams was eventually released, his daughter horrified the family by staying with her captors and marrying a Mohawk husband.”

It’s a good read about a time and place I’m not especially familiar with, early 18th-century New England. Interesting how in only 50 years or so, that place evolved into the more familiar (to me) mid-century and Revolutionary New England.

Wait, when did Random House and Penguin merge? In 2013, it turns out. I wasn’t paying attention because book publishing isn’t my sort of publishing. I’m used to thinking of Penguin as a solidly British operation, but these days it’s owned by shadowy German billionaires.

Return of the Zhu-Zhus

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“A line of severe storms slammed through downtown Chicago and surrounding areas Monday, downing trees and power lines, which sparked fires in the city, officials said,” CNN reported last night. That, and there was some riotous looting too.

“More than a million homes and businesses in the Midwest are without power, including a third of all of customers in Iowa,” CNN continued. “The wind was so strong when the storm passed through Perry, Iowa, it blew pieces of boards from other buildings into the walls of a house.”

So we lucked out. As I mentioned, the winds were fairly tame in my tiny corner of the world. After such wind and rain as we had had passed yesterday, I went out in the yard to pick up items that moved around a little, such as one of the deck chairs. The sun had returned and I noticed the rain-speckled hibiscus picking up the light.hibiscusToday we opened up a box that has been sitting in our laundry room for a good many years, tucked under a few other boxes. I call it a laundry room, but being home to the washer and dryer is only one of its functions. Crap we don’t want to put partly out in the elements — in the garage, that is — goes there.

On Saturday, since this is a Summer of Nowhere, I spent a fair number of hours in the garage, till the trash bin was mostly full and garage crap had been rearranged somewhat.

Back to the box. Among many other things, it contained five Zhu-Zhu Pets. Mechanical hamsters, since I’m not sure they rise to the level of robot hamsters.

Ann marveled at them. Her 17-year-old self reflected on how important they were to her seven-year-old self. She got her first one for that birthday. Like most toys, they were important until they weren’t.
What amazed me was that the batteries have held out on all of them. They all still move around and make various preprogramed noises.

That’s about 20 seconds of randomly selected Zhu-Zhu Pet sounds, squeaks and whirs coming directly from 2010 to you in 2020.

Lilly and James Burke — Twice

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During our long drive to the Canadian Rockies and back in the summer of 2006, we made a stop on the return in Bismarck, North Dakota (and Zap, too). Mainly to see the state capitol — my kind of sight.

Outside the building is a statue of John Burke, 10th governor of North Dakota and Treasurer of the United States for all of the Wilson administration, among other offices he held in the Progressive Era. My kind of sight as well — and my kind of whimsy to have Lilly, age 8, pose with it.
John Burke statue North Dakota CapitolIt’s a duplicate of a bronze by Utah sculptor Avard Fairbanks, put in its current place in 1963. Looks pretty good for being out in the Dakota winters for so many years. The summers as well, since I remember that day in Bismarck was pretty hot.

Note the hat covering one of Burke’s feet. I just noticed it the other day, looking at the picture. It’s my Route of Seeing cap, given to me by Ed. I told him I would take pictures of in various places, to send to him. I wonder whether I remembered to do so in this case (I was wearing it in the Zap picture as well).

Forward to 2011. We went to Washington, DC, that summer. Part of the visit involved a tour of the U.S. Capitol. Where is the original Fairbanks statue of Honest John Burke? There.

Naturally I had Lilly, now 13, stand next to it. Bet not many non-North Dakotans can say they’ve posed with both, and probably a fair number of North Dakotans haven’t either.John Burke statue US Capitol

The image didn’t come out so well, but so what. By then I wasn’t carrying around Route of Seeing, though it’s still tucked away with our other caps somewhere. Maybe I’ll take it somewhere again. (More likely, I’ll forget.)