Letters for George

O.E.S. Princess

2012-01-27T09:42:00.023-05:00

Sophie, age 9 years, 2 months

Dear George,

Sophie recently came over for a long weekend while Donna was in Nashville and Chattanooga visiting her kids. Sophie always brings a breath of fresh air to our household. She’s more perky and energetic than her older brothers, Mike and Duffy, and they get more peppy in turn when she’s around. It’s sort of like a three-ring circus. While all three Old English Sheepdogs had the same parents, Sophie has a personality all her own. I don’t know if that’s a matter of gender or the way she’s been reared or simply an accident of DNA. But she is a cutie-pie and entirely loveable. She’s wary of Duffy, who’s the alpha dog in the pack and can be pretty bossy, but she gives Mikey, who’s more submissive, a lot of attention. Sophie frequently wants to play, but Mike has never really learned how. So Sophie paws him on the nose, and Mike growls and snarls. Sophie knows he doesn’t mean it, so she keeps pawing away. It’s their little game. The dogs are nine years old now, but no one would ever guess. Here’s how Sophie’s looking these days.

Love,

Dave

Sophie and Katja share a special bond

Happy to be here

What's that sound across the street?

Sophie's always the first in bed

On the patio

Sophie (right) and Mike on Ludlow Avenue

The dogs with their fur coats like the cool weather

Checking out our neighbor’s yard

Imperial Sophie

So crowded!

Sophie with her walker

Mike (foreground) and Sophie on the patio

The dogs get excited when Katja arrives home

Mike (left) and Sophie howling at something unknown

Time for a rest

Whenever Katja is in the kitchen, it’s extremely interesting

Sophie, like her brothers, is a voracious eater

Sacked out after a long day (Sophie on sofa, Duffy on floor, gigantic stuffed sheepdog on bench)

Portrait of a Princess

Marshall Burns Lloyd, Entrepreneur and Menominee Citizen

2012-01-23T12:11:00.011-05:00

Marshall Burns Lloyd (1858-1927)

Dear George,

Lately I've been delving into the history of my hometown, Menominee, Michigan. There are lots of stories. One of the most fascinating concerns inventor and local businessman, Marshall Burns Lloyd. Lloyd, of course, is a familiar name to anybody who grew up in Menominee. My siblings and I were all born in what came to be named St. Joseph Lloyd Hospital. We spent our Saturday afternoons at children’s matinees at the Lloyd Theater, and my mother would take us to buy clothes at the department store in the basement of the Lloyd Building. Many of my friends' parents worked for the Lloyd Factory. Despite all this, I can’t recall knowing anything about Marshall B. Lloyd. Recently I discovered a goldmine of information on the Internet. It’s quite a story.

Marshall Burns Lloyd was born in St. Paul, Minnesota, on March 10, 1858, the son of Margaret Lloyd and Scottish emigree John Lloyd. When he was just a baby, his parents returned to Canada and settled on a farm near the little village of Meaford on Georgian Bay. Financial difficulties forced Marshall to leave school at age 14 to help his father in a shingle mill. He then worked as a grocery clerk, but gave this up to sell fish, catching his merchandise in the Georgian Bay and peddling them door to door from a wheelbarrow. Lloyd's first invention as a teenager was a new and effective fish spear.

At age 16, with an offer of $8 a month plus room and board, Lloyd left Meaford for Toronto and worked in a grocery store. He used his meager savings to buy a stock of soap which he peddled door to door. He told an interviewer, "I guess the women felt sorry for me because I was so small...They bought enough soap to last them a long, long while." When he’d satiated the soap market in Toronto, he expanded his business to cheap jewelry, using one of his soap boxes to stand on and hawk his wares on Yonge Street. Lloyd then drove about the Canadian countryside, selling general merchandise to farmers from a covered wagon drawn by a horse. At eighteen he became a rural mail-carrier, driving a six-dog train and sleigh on the two-day, 65-mile route between Port Arthur and Pidgeon River.

Attracted by the rush of settlers to Winnepeg, Lloyd worked as a waiter while engaging in real-estate speculation and accumulated $15,000 in a few months. He bought a farm at Grafton, North Dakota, where he brought his family. However, Lloyd didn't take to farming and soon turned to the insurance business in St. Thomas. While doing so, he patented a revolutionary weighing scale for use by farmers. As he attempted to manufacture the scale in a blacksmith shop, the uninsured building was destroyed by fire, and Lloyd lost everything.

Hopeful of rebuilding his plant, Lloyd went to Minneapolis, but couldn't secure financial aid and became a shoe salesman, working on other inventions in his spare time. After 10 years the C. O. White Manufacturing Co. of Minneapolis gave him an interest in the company in exchange for the right to use his invention for weaving wire door and table mats. Another of his inventions for weaving woven-wire bed springs revolutionized the bed-spring industry, and Lloyd was able to buy the White company, renaming it the Lloyd Manufacturing Company. He sold manufacturing rights to businesses in Europe, Australia, New Zealand, and South Africa, and by 1900 Lloyd was a wealthy and successful self-made man.

Lloyd next perfected a machine to make wire wheels for baby carriages which made the ride much smoother. He had difficulty getting Minneapolis financiers to extend him more credit, and he began looking for opportunities elsewhere. Lumbermen John W. Wells, Augustus Spies, and others in Menominee, faced with the decline of the lumbering industry and the closing of sawmills, were seeking new industries, and Marshall Lloyd contacted them. Lloyd sold his Minneapolis plant in 1906, began building in Menominee, and in 1907 transferred his machinery and other assets to a new Lloyd Manufacturing Company with a capitalization of $400,000 and a 77,000 square foot building on Green Bay from his Menominee backers. His business associates were Frank A. Spies, John W. Wells, W. S. Carpenter, John Henes, Leo C. Harmon, and John M. Thompson. Lloyd brought with him two "lieutenants" from Minneapolis -- Lewis Larsen, who shared his interest in inventing, and Christ Mathisen, a skilled workman.

Lloyd Manufacturing Co., Menominee, Mich.

The Lloyd company's payroll in the first year was $45,000, and sales were $129,032. Early days of the company were difficult, and, as financial problems mounted, the directors tried to buy Lloyd out, an option he refused. At one point Lloyd sold his watch as part of his effort to meet payroll, and another longtime employee withdrew her entire savings to help buy materials for the plant. Several directors placed their stock on the market at a substantial loss, and Lloyd offered it as a stock option to his executives and foreman. J. W. Wells and F. A. Spies, bought the remainder of the stock which later increased sixteen times in value.

The Lloyd Manufacturing Co. first made express wagons, then collapsible go-cars. With financial support from John Wells, Lloyd invented a new method of making thin-gauged steel tubing in 1910, selling the patents for $800,000. Lloyd resumed making hand-woven reed baby carriages in 1914. At the Lloyd plant he changed the traditional method of weaving, finding a way to weave the wicker independently of the frame and attaching it afterwards. He then devised the Lloyd Loom to weave wicker in this new way. It revolutionized the wicker-manufacturing industry. While it took an expert weaver nine hours to weave the wicker for a baby carriage, it could be done with the Lloyd Loom in 18 minutes. One loom did the work of thirty weavers and resulted in a 600% increase in the plant’s output.

Shaped and power flat looms, Lloyd Manufacturing Co.

Lloyd Loom baby carriages

The Lloyd plant employed 1500 Menominee area workers and supplied demand for Lloyd Loom baby carriages throughout the world. The fabric made at Lloyd was used, not only in baby carriages, but a large variety of furniture. Lloyd sold his patent to an English manufacturer who used it to create a collection of over 600 designs of English furniture, and the Lloyd Loom soon became the rage in Europe. At its peak of popularity in the Art Deco period of the 1930's, Lloyd Loom furniture could be widely found in restaurants, tea rooms, hotel lobbies and rooms, and the royal boxes at Wimbledon, as well as aboard cruise ships, ocean-going liners, and even a zeppelin. One of the more novel products was an extra-wide wicker chair that British Spitfire pilots in their bulky flying suits used to rest up between missions in World War II. When the Germans were unable to vanquish the Spitfires, they took revenge near the end of the war by bombing the British Lloyd Loom factory. With the factory’s destruction, the manufacture of Lloyd Loom chairs ended in Europe, not to resume until 1985 with a new factory in Spalding. During the Second World War 250 Lloyd employees in Menominee entered the military, and women replaced men in the factory. Eighty-five percent of the company's work was in war production: glider fuselages, bomber trainers, airplane motor mounts, and 100,000 75 mm. high-explosive shells per month.

Lloyd Loom wicker furniture

With his wealth running into millions of dollars by the 1920’s, Lloyd maintained a beautiful winter home in Miami and built an experimental factory near his home on Sheridan Road in Menominee. Wanting to aid Menominee’s workforce, Lloyd designed and patented a sectional house with a special insulation for the cold that he invented and a highly economical heating system. Lloyd maintained a crew of a dozen men to work on his plan and purchased the old county fair grounds in Menominee as a site for his planned "model city." Unfortunately illness interfered with and eventually derailed his plans.

In February 1924 Menominee's only department store was destroyed by fire, and the owners decided not to rebuild. With the business district markedly depressed as a consequence, a committee of citizens appealed to Lloyd, and he decided to help finance a new community cooperative department store and theater enterprise. Under his leadership, 1500 residents subscribed to more than $500,000 in the new Community Building corporation. Finding difficulty in obtaining a tenant, Lloyd leased the building himself. Travelling to England, France, and Germany to establish buying connections, Lloyd stocked the store to rival department stores in major cities. Originally labelled "The Wonder Store," Lloyd's dream retail outlet included an arcade and the Lloyd Theater, equipped to be the equal of any in the state. The theater and store opened in October, 1926, with a huge community celebration, and they were soon drawing patrons from distant towns and cities. Originally built as a silent theater, the Lloyd became the third theater north of Chicago to show "talkies".

The Lloyd Department Store, Sheridan Road, Menominee

Lloyd was elected Mayor of the Menominee for two terms from 1913 to 1917. He invented so many improvements for Menominee's government that he was known as "Efficiency" Lloyd, a nickname that stuck permanently. During this period the city took over the water works, previously operated by a private company, and Lloyd was particularly proud that the city, which previously had had a high typhoid rate, was assured of a permanent supply of pure water. Lloyd was a member of Menominee’s Rotary Club and Chamber of Commerce, as well as the Knights of Pythias.

Lloyd's father had died of an illness which had been incorrectly diagnosed and treated. Because small town practitioners lacked the laboratory equipment and resources available to surgeons in big cities, Lloyd made a decision to bring the latest in scientific techniques to Menominee physicians. He placed the major portion of his estate, $2,000,000, in a trust fund to endow a diagnostic clinic and provide care for local people who couldn't otherwise afford it. The local hospital was renamed St. Joseph-Lloyd Hospital in his honor, though this took years because of legal complications.

St. Joseph Lloyd Hospital, Menominee

Lloyd was president of the Lumbermen's National bank, president of the Community Building Co., president and owner of the Lloyd Department Store and the Lloyd Theater, director of the Heywood-Wakefield Co., vice-president of the Automatic Seamless Tubing Co., and director of the Hoskin-Morainville Paper Co. He was an expert skater, an ardent motorist and golfer, and had a great appreciation of poetry.

In 1922 Lloyd married his third wife, Mrs. Henriette Pollen of Orange, New Jersey. They had met in Florida where Lloyd was spending the winter. She was working in a novelty shop, and, according to Lloyd in an interview, "her manner in waiting on him immediately won his interest." Lloyd did not have children throughout his life.

Marshall Burns Lloyd died of a heart attack at 4:15 a.m. on August 10, 1927. He had sat up in his bed, saying "I want to take a deep breath," then collapsed. His wife, brother, nephews, close friend, and attending physicians were present, including our family doctor, Dr. Sethney. The Mayor of Menominee later wrote, "Seldom does a community so feel the loss in case of the death of an individual as is felt in the passing of Mr. Lloyd. He was more than an individual. He represented the spirit of progress, civic improvement and prosperity in these Twin cities." My grandfather, V.A.L. Sr., was quoted in the Herald-Leader as saying: "I shall always remember his expressions of explicit faith in Menominee and his love for its citizens. We have suffered the irreparable loss of a leader and a friend."

Love,

Dave

SOURCES:

“Biographies,” Marshall Burns Lloyd (http://mlloyd.org/gen/lloyd/mblphoto.htm)

"Contemporary Design Profile: Marshall Burns Lloyd") (http://siera-macpherson.com)

"Lloyd Loom." (www.classicandperformancecar.com)

"Lloyd Loom of Spalding." (www.lloydloom.com)

“Marshall Burns Lloyd Photo Gallery” (http://mlloyd.org/gen/lloyd/mblphoto.htm)

“Obituary and articles,” Marshall B. Lloyd (http://mlloyd.org/gen/lloyd/mblphoto.htm)

Mature Couplespeak

2012-01-19T21:43:00.006-05:00

Dear George,

On her web-site Oprah recently reported results of a British study of how much couples talk during a one-hour meal. Unmarried dating couples talk about 50 minutes out of 60 (munching their veggies the rest of the time). But then frequency of talk drops off steadily: newlyweds, under 40 minutes; married 20 years, 21 minutes; 30 years, 16 minutes, 50 years, 3 minutes. Three minutes out of sixty? That’s our category! I’m sure Katja and I talk more than three minutes. However, I’ll admit we are quiet a fair amount of the time. A main reason is that we’ve already covered just about every topic that might come up. But beyond low frequency, our conversations seem to differ from those we have with other people. We just seem to say whatever comes into our mind. I think it’s because we don’t feel a need to put on a show. So we don’t make any effort to be smart or sophisticated or logical or even pleasant. If you’re grumpy, then you’re grumpy; confused, confused. Stuff just sort of pops out. A while back we had a brief interchange about religion that I thought was amusing, so I wrote it down as verbatim as I could. Then I found myself adding more instances till I’d accumulated the collection below. I showed these to Katja and got her permission to reproduce them here. I wonder if a reader could guess that these people have been married quite a while?

RELIGIOUS MEDITATIONS

D (driving past a church): That’s a peculiar sign – “Christ has come, Christ is coming again.”

K: Hmm.

D: If Christ has already come, why do they say he’s coming again?

K: They mean in the past. He came in the past.

D: “Has come” doesn’t sound right. It should say “Came”. If I say the mail has come, I don’t mean it came last month.

K: It’s grammatically correct.

D: O.k.

(five-second pause)

D: Christ has been dead an awfully long time.

K: Two thousand years.

D: Actually 2011 years. He probably hardly has even a skeleton left.

K: He’s in heaven.

D: Oh yeah, I forgot.

DOWN TO THE WIRE

D (on New Year’s Eve): It’s 11:58. Did you make your resolutions yet?

K: (five-second pause) O.k., now I did. I made a New Years wish.

D: Well, a wish isn’t really a resolution. What did you wish for?

K: I wished that the dogs would live forever.

D: That’s not a resolution. For a resolution, you have to resolve to do something.

K: I just wanted to make a wish.

D: They don’t have New Years wishes.

K: What’s your resolution?

D: I’m not making any resolutions this year. I did so badly on them last year.

K: Oh, do you have a wish?

D: No. You’re not supposed to have wishes.

GREEN TEAM IN ACTION

D (while driving 10 miles to Sears to buy Trashmasher bags): I wonder how we could do a better job recycling.

K: We’re doing just fine recycling.

D: I don’t think so. We don’t recycle anything you put in the Trashmasher.

K: I have that basket in the kitchen for recycling paper and bottles.

D: You put a lot of paper in the Trashmasher. It gets mixed up with the banana peels and coffee grounds.

K: Those are recyclable.

D: Banana peels? What can you recycle that into?

K: Pot.

D: Pot? I don’t think so…

KEEPING SECRETS

K: I’m going out. I’ll be back soon.

D: Where are you going?

K: Just down the street.

D: Where to?

K: Just down the street. Then I’m driving to Rookwood Commons.

D: Are you going to Graeters (ice cream parlor)?

K: No, I have to go down the street in order to drive to Rookwood Commons. (giggles)

D: I think you’re going to Graeters. You can tell me.

K (on her way out the door): No, I’m not. I’ll see you later.

(90 minutes go by)

K: I’m back.

D: Did you have a good trip?

K: Yes, I went to Rookwood Commons.

D: Did you go down the street?

K: No. Just to Rookwood Commons. (giggles)

D (looking skeptical): Oh.

HETEROSEXUAL IDENTITY CRISIS

K (picking up glasses off the solarium table): Are these Donna’s glasses?

D: No, those are my new reading glasses. I bought them at the Dollar Store.

K: They look like girl’s glasses.

D (looking at the rims which are red, yellow, orange, green, and blue): No, these are my gay glasses.

K: Did you mean to buy girls’ glasses?

D: Actually I never noticed the colors before. I just bought them to wear around the house.

K: I guess when you’re married for fifty years it’s o.k. to be gay.

D: It is. I’ll just wear them around the house.

FINANCIAL INTERROGATION

D: This is a really good hot dog. What brand is it?

K: I buy them individually at Fresh Market. They’re Smithfields.

(Pause)

D: Why would anybody buy hot dogs individually?

K: That’s how they sell them.

D: How much do they cost?

K: I buy them by the pound.

D: How much do they cost by the pound?

K (reading newspaper -- no response)

D (eating another bite): How much are they by the pound?

K: (silence)

D: I wonder how much a pound of these hot dogs costs?

K: ( gets up; goes to kitchen; returns with package of hot dogs)

K: They’re $4.99 a pound. I bought six for $6.14.

D: Hmm. They’re really good.

“I DON’T WANT TO GO…”

D (referring to an earlier conversation): If you join the Opera Guild, I don’t want to join.

K: Well, you would just become a member along with me.

D: They probably have dues. How much are the dues?

K: The dues are $300. But it doesn’t cost anything extra for you.

D: Three hundred dollars? What do you get for three hundred dollars?

K: I don’t know. You get to meet interesting people. Yesterday I met the wife of the Dean of the Business school.

D: It doesn’t sound worth it. Then you probably have to pay for lunch.

K: I didn’t pay for lunch yesterday. The Opera Guild members provided the lunch.

D: I don’t want to go to lunch.

K: You don’t have to. The only thing you have to go to is the Opera Guild Ball.

D: How much is that? Eight hundred dollars?

K: It’s only one hundred dollars.

D: Per person?

K: No, for both of us. One hundred dollars for the Ball.

D: I don’t want to go. I don’t want to go. I don’t want to go. I don’t want to go. I don’t want to go. I don’t want to go…

K: (stops listening)

INTELLECTUAL DISCUSSION

D (near midnight): If we wanted to, how would we protect our house against vampires?

K: You put garlic on the doors. And you put silver crosses on the doors.

D: I thought it was garlic. I’d just forgotten.

K: Why are you thinking about vampires?

D: I was doing some research on the Internet. It seems that Santa might be a vampire.

K: Santa definitely isn’t a vampire.

D: There a lot of reasons…

K: Vampires are sexual beings. Santa isn’t sexual.

D: He’s in disguise. He could be sexual.

K: Besides, Santa didn’t exist until 1839.

D: I think that was the year that Dracula was published.

K: (Goes back to her book)

LOST AND FOUND

D (pointing to a black glove laying on the pavement in the Panera parking lot): Look! That glove looks a lot like the ones I have.

K: (silence)

D: It might be good to get it. If I lost one I’d have a replacement.

K: (silence)

D: I think I’m going to get it.

K: Don’t get it.

D: Why not?

K: Why would you want to put your hand in somebody else’s glove?

D: (no response)

K: Would you wear somebody else’s shoes?

D: Well, I used to buy shoes at Goodwill.

K: Let’s go

(30 minutes later, after eating French Onion soup at Panera)

D (pointing again): That looks like a really good glove. I’m going to get it. (Bends over)

K (pulls him by the sleeve): Just come along…

I don’t know quite what to make of this. If I look at it as an outside observer, it reminds me of some of the dialogue between Larry and Cheryl David on HBO’s Curb Your Enthusiasm. The husband’s sort of clutzy, obsessive, often seems clueless. The beleaguered wife has a sense of humor, remains unruffled, and tries to navigate her husband through life situations. I do enjoy Curb Your Enthusiasm, though I’m not sure Larry is the greatest role model. But, even if we’re a little strange, at least Katja and I talk for more than three minutes per hour.

Love,

Dave

January, Dark and Cold

2012-01-15T14:20:00.004-05:00

Cincinnati Snowstorm (January, 1978)

Dear George,

No one would dispute that January is the bleakest month. Overcast skies, dark early, bitter cold, hazardous sidewalks. What all this adds up to is less walks for the dogs, fewer ventures out with friends, runny noses, and feeling cooped up. This January started out particularly badly when I read in the paper that a good friend’s husband had died unexpectedly in his sleep. He was in his early sixties, had two children in their early thirties, and had recently become a new grandfather. I’ve always thought that he and his wife had one of the closest, happiest marriages I knew of. I felt so sad at the funeral. His death was incomprehensible, and my friend looked like she was barely hanging on. Katja wasn’t able to come to the funeral, and, when I tried to tell her about it, I kept breaking into tears.

I’d scheduled an annual physical with Dr. Braxton for a few days later. I hadn’t given it any thought, but the funeral must have affected me. I wouldn’t say that I’m a hypochondriac, but whenever I go to the doctor I start becoming aware of deadly maladies I’ve contracted. This time my symptoms pointed to pneumonia (from my lingering cold), an imminent stroke (since my blood pressure’s been creeping up), amputation of my lower limbs from diabetes (elevated blood sugar), and skin cancer that had reached my brain (a scruffy spot on my forehead). Katja came along to my appointment. She was impressed with the framed copy of Cincinnati magazine on the wall which featured Dr. Braxton as one of the “Best Doctors” in the city. I didn’t know why he was among the best, but Dr. Braxton did proceed efficiently and cheerfully, peering inside my ears and listening to my chest while I coughed deeply. He didn’t detect any pneumonia, said my blood pressure had risen some because I wasn’t exercising as much as I had during the summer, and wasn’t worried about my spot of crusty skin or my blood sugar, which he said would drop in a day if I’d cut down on sweets. After twenty minutes I was discharged with an excellent bill of health. Katja was relieved. Now I knew why Dr. Braxton is one of the best. In a mere twenty minutes, he’d managed to rid me of pneumonia, stroke, cancer, and diabetes. To celebrate my miraculous recovery we stopped at the Hyde Park Graeter’s where I treated myself to a chocolate doughnut and a Bearclaw pastry.

We hurried home because the dogs were due at their chiropractor appointment. Mike and Duffy will be ten in April (70 in human years), so we worry about them too. Our groomer, who does an excellent haircutting job but clearly regards us as incompetent dog owners, said that Duffy has lost half the muscle mass in his right rear leg, resulting in his leg trembling uncontrollably as she works on him. We felt terrible. It had been three months since Dr. Mattell had seen Mike and Duffy, and he worked over each dog carefully, manipulating each joint and muscle. He didn’t detect any loss of muscle mass in Duffy’s leg. Duffy’s leg did tremble during the exam, but Dr. Mattell said that was a sign of anxiety. He said the dogs were in excellent condition and recommended we come back for a checkup in four months. I decided that the maniacal groomer had just felt like mentally torturing us.

Now that the people and the dogs have been pronounced to be doing well, January has definitely picked up. Katja’s been working on a speech for her women’s writing club, and her completed manuscript was interesting and entertaining, bound to be a hit. Then she went downtown to renew her passport for her three-week trip with her siblings to Italy in March. She’s all excited, and I’m happy for her. We enjoyed “War Horse”, “Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy”, “Melancholia”, and “The Artist” at the movies. We’ve watched a lot NFL playoff games (most thrilling; some with good outcomes, some lousy), and my favorite local basketball teams are on red-hot winning streaks. Even despite the first snowfall of the season January seems to be gradually improving. What an up and down month! I guess that’s what winter is all about.

Love,

Dave

Archive: Menominee Postcards #4

2012-01-11T10:57:00.019-05:00

Aerial View, Downtown Menominee

Dear George,

Every week I put a vintage postcard image of my home town, Menominee, Michigan, in the righthand column of this blog with a short commentary attached. Because these don’t get stored when I change them each week, I’m putting a batch of them here as an archive in a permanent file. One can access other previous Menominee Postcard “archives” by going to the blog’s righthand column, scrolling down to “Labels”, and clicking on “Archives”. In addition to earlier Menominee postcard archives, one will also find there an archive of “Marinette Postcards” (Menominee’s sister city across the river in Wisconsin) and archives of my father’s family photos taken in Menominee in the 1940’s and 1950’s (“Vic’s Photos”). I’ll add additional archives for these categories in coming months. Enjoy.

Love,

Dave

LEISEN & HENES PARK

Henes Park is a community treasure and Menominee’s biggest tourist attraction. It’s named for John Henes, the grandfather of one of our parents’ friends, who donated the park to the city in 1907. I’ve spent many enjoyable times in Henes Park, as a little kid, a Boy Scout, a teenager picnicking with friends, a young adult visiting home with my wife Katja, and a husband and dad in my own family.

SWIMMING AT HENES PARK

There are lots of places to swim on Green Bay, but Henes Park has the most complete public beach, offering a lifeguard, an old-time playground, and a refreshment stand. We didn’t swim there a lot as kids because good family friends had homes or cottages on the bay shore. However, in adulthood Katja, our son J, and I regularly spent time at the Henes Park beach when visiting Menominee.

LOAD OF LOGS, MENOMINEE, MICH.

Menominee and Marinette were the world’s biggest lumber center at the turn of the last century, providing much of the wood for constructing buildings in Chicago, Milwaukee, and the Great Lakes area. In my youth our family lived on the Menominee River where millions of logs had passed by decades before, and we kids would play at being at lumberjacks, trying to balance ourselves on rolling logs in the water. Ancient remnants of the logging industry still existed on the river near our house, and they were mysterious, ghostly places to visit.

HARBOR SCENE

Located on Green Bay, an offshoot of Lake Michigan, Menominee and Marinette are boating towns. Many of our family friends had power boats or sailboats which they anchored in the marina downtown, e.g., the O’Hara’s, Caley’s, Hood’s. The adults did recreational boating trips across the Bay to the Door Peninsula, a popular resort destination, and sometimes we kids would go along too.

CEDAR RIVER

Cedar River (pop. approx. 25) is located on M-35 along the Green Bay shore, about 25 miles north of Menominee. It was a frequent destination for our family because Jean Worth’s hunting camp was there, a site for many social gatherings throughout the years. In our adulthood my parents would take us up to Cedar River to enjoy delicious cheeseburgers at Paddy’s Bar.

WALTON BLESCH FIELD

Menominee’s always been a big football town. The Green Bay Packers are an hour’s drive away, and there’s a strong local following for the Menominee High Maroons who play at Walton Blesch Field. The huge local rivalry was between Menominee and the Marinette Marines across the river, and the M&M game would be the final and most important game of the season. I don’t think I missed a single Maroon home game from ninth through twelfth grades. Afterwards we’d go to the high school dance in the gym where my friend Bob G. would lead his band. We’d wind up the evening with hamburgers and fries at the Gateway Café on Ogden Ave.

M&M FANS (Life Magazine photo)

These are Menominee High girls responding to their school’s loss to Marinette in the annual M&M football game in the 1940’s. This was the longest running inter-state public high school game in the nation, and emotions ran high. As teens, we were advised not to cross the river to Marinette during the week preceding the game because of the possibility of harmful things being done to one’s car or person. The game was suspended some years back because of untoward behavior, and now it’s in jeopardy again because of Wisconsin state athletic association rules.

SWIMMING IN THE MENOMINEE RIVER

We spent a lot of time as children swimming in the river in front of our house. Early on my parents would join us, and my dad would do his bathing in the river. When we got older, we would swim off our raft, and my mom would sit in the lawn chair keeping a watchful eye on her prodigy. We’d swim across the river with my dad following behind in the rowboat, then graduated to swimming a half mile down the river to the old logging island near the dam. We all became pretty good swimmers.

SHERIDAN ROAD

Sheridan Road was Menominee’s main street (and still is, though it’s now become First St.). This photo is taken looking south from the intersection at Ogden Avenue (now Tenth Ave.). My dad and his law partner Dick Sawyer had an office on the second floor of the building at the left. The white building at the right, Menominee’s largest, was the Montgomery Ward building. It housed the department store and the Lloyd movie theater. Later the department store was replaced by a knitting mill; and still later the movie theater was replaced by an antique mall. The building at the front right is the Stephenson Building which housed the Carpenter Cook grocery wholesaler, where my friends Frank and Mary St. Peter’s dad was an executive. The Commercial Bank is the dark building between Montgomery Ward and the Stephenson Building. During the war I saved a nickel each week at Washington Grade School and opened my first savings account at the Commercial Bank.

ZINNIA GARDEN

Now I learn some 56 years after leaving my home town that Menominee’s official flower is the Zinnia. I couldn’t believe that I’d forgotten this, so I googled “Menominee zinnia,” and, sure enough, there was the local Zinnia Festival and the Blessing of the Fleet. I probably ignored it in my youth because I wasn’t sufficiently attuned to flowers or community events. My mother, however, was a dedicated gardener, and, for all I know, we probably had zinnias all over the place.

SUMMER FUN AT YACHT BASIN

Menominee and the U.P. have very distinct seasons of the year. Each has its own pleasures, but summer is best. It’s because the town has so much water and shoreline available, offering endless recreation for swimmers, boaters, water skiers, fishermen, etc. Before we moved out of town to the river in 1946, one of our favorite swimming places was at the Yacht Basin in Marina Park in the center of downtown. The littler kids waded along the sandy beach, and the older kids swam off the breakwater, diving into the eight-foot deep water or doing cannonballs.

ICE BOATING ON GREEN BAY

Green Bay would freeze over in the winter, and ice boating was one of the popular winter sports in Menominee. The nation’s first ice boating championships were held here. The Northwood Cove group (Caleys, Mars, Sargents) had ice boats, as did a couple of our generation’s peers (Ken D., Pat D., Jim N.). The ice boats were a colorful sight on the frozen bay.

SCHLOEGEL’S RESTAURANT

As teenagers we used to frequent Schloegel’s Restaurant on Hall Ave. in Marinette, and the Menominee restaurant (pictured here) opened years later. Located on Highway 41 on the route to Farm, it’s long been Katja’s favorite in the twin cities, and one of mine too. Great for breakfasts and whitefish dinners, it has lots of window space, a picturesque view of Green Bay, delicious homemade pies, pasties, and a well-stocked gift shop. Anyone who visits Menominee should be sure to have a meal at Schloegel’s.

MENOMINEE RIVER

Having grown up on its shoreline, I had endless experiences with the Menominee River. One memory that comes to mind is when my friends Grant B and Earl M and I, as high school juniors, set off in our motor-powered rowboat to go up the river on a multi-day camping trip and travel as far as we could go, ideally to Iron Mountain. We only had a 1.5 horsepower motor, and, after a couple of miles, the propeller hit a rock in the river and broke the cotter pin. We rowed for a while, then got out and pushed the boat in the shallow water. Finally we gave up and pitched our tent in the forest along the shore. As fate would have it, we picked a poison ivy patch to camp in. Grant came down with a serious infection that got into his lungs, and he spent a week in St. Joseph-Lloyd Hospital. We never made it anywhere near Iron Mountain.

DEER YARD AT HENES PARK

Henes Park’s deer pen has deer and buffalo co-existing, and we were always amazed that buffalo, which we associated with the Wild West, actually lived in Menominee. Later they added a little zoo with creatures like porcupines, raccoons, and a small black bear. It was cramped and not very sanitary. Last time we were there the zoo had been dismantled. Now there’s community discussion about turning the deer yard into a dog park.

FIRST STREET, THE WATERFRONT RESTAURANT

The Waterfront (above right) was Menominee’s finest restaurant throughout the decades that our family gathered for annual reunions, and my parents would host a family dinner there each time we came to visit. We’d start off with a Manhattan on the rocks. Then most of us would have broiled whitefish, seasoned with almonds, the specialty of the house. Our father would entertain with stories and revelry, my siblings and I would crack jokes, the grandchildren would be delighted to be out with the grown-ups, and we’d all have a fine time.

HUNTING SCENES

Menominee County was and is prime deer hunting country. It has a larger deer herd than any other county in the U.P. Fathers and adolescent sons from our social circle would gather at Jean Worth’s camp each November for the hunt. We’d get up before daybreak and be stationed along various deer trails in the forest. I never did see a deer on these outings, and that was o.k. since I had doubts about actually shooting at one.

LUMBER YARDS

While most of the lumber yards had disappeared from the local scene by my childhood, Menominee’s history as a lumber mecca remained part of community lore and pride. We children learned all about Paul Bunyon in school and imagined ourselves to the descendants of lumberjacks. Actually my paternal grandfather, V.A. Sr., worked in the U.P. lumber camps after emigrating from Sweden and before going to pharmacy school.

GREAT LAKES & MEMORIAL PARK

By the time we’d reached tenth grade we’d formed a friendship group of dozen or more boys and girls, and we’d spend a lot of time outdoors in the summer. The downtown marina park was one of our favorite gathering places. We’d lie on blankets, get a suntan, listen to Bing Crosby and Doris Day on a battery-powered radio, and rate the pop hits of the day. It was a close, cohesive group, and we had a lot of fun.

The Amazing Menominee

2012-01-07T09:38:00.013-05:00

Map: The Menominee River and Surroundings

Dear George,

Growing up on the Menominee River, we had a keen awareness of the river’s impact on our daily lives. However, we had only the sketchiest knowledge about the river in its entirety -- its history, importance to the region, or how its attributes varied over its lengthy course. It is truly remarkable. At 118 miles, the Menominee is the longest river in the U.P. and serves as the interstate border between Michigan and Wisconsin through its entire course. Over 100 tributaries flow into the Menominee between its source and its mouth at Green Bay, and its total basin covers 4,070 square miles. Here are some postcard images which help tell the river’s rich story.

Coolidge Summer White House on the Brule River (circa 1928)

The Menominee River is formed at the junction of the Brule and Michigamme Rivers in the northwestern U.P. about ten miles north of Iron Mountain. Like the Menominee, the 52-mile Brule and the 67-mile Michigamme Rivers were visited by European explorers in the 1700s; then traders, trappers, and missionaries in the eighteen and nineteenth centuries, becoming important logging sites in the 1890s. In 1928 President Calvin Coolidge made his Summer White House on an island in the Brule River where he fished and learned trap shooting.

Below Compressor Falls, Menominee River, Iron Mountain, Mich. (circa 1910)

Shortly after its point of origin, the Menominee River passes next to Iron Mountain, one of the U.P.’s historical iron ore mining cities, and then Norway, Mich. Iron Mountain is the home of the former Chapin Mine, location of the largest steam-driven pumping engine in the U.S., and the Midwest’s largest bat colony.

Quinnesec Falls Power Plant on the Menominee River near Iron Mountain (circa 1950)

The Hydroelectric Plant at Big Quinnesec Falls on the Menominee River, three miles west of Iron Mountain, went into operation in 1949 and is the largest of the river’s nine power plants. Its generators produced about 220 trillion watts of electricity in 2007. The Quinnesec Paper Mill, also located on the Menominee, is the U.P.’s largest.

Piers Gorge on the Menominee River (circa 2000, photo)

Below Iron Mountain, the river drops at a rate of five feet per mile, generating a lengthy stretch of whitewater rapids. Near Norway, the 100-foot forested cliffs of Piers Gorge on the Menominee offer one of the deepest whitewater gorges in the Midwest, extending four miles. Sporting a 10-foot waterfall drop, Piers Gorge is too dangerous for boats or canoes, but attracts expert kayakers from around the nation. Bald eagles live in the gorge’s rock bluffs.

Grand Rapids Reservoir on the Menominee River (circa 2000, photo)

For most of the hundred miles below Iron Mountain and Norway, the Menominee River winds its way through largely unpopulated, forested land with no adjoining towns or villages. Large reservoirs have been created along the river’s course which have formed the region’s deepest and most pristine lakes and offer outdoor recreational opportunities, e.g., camping, fishing.

Log Jam on the Menominee River at Menominee and Marinette (circa 1910)

Historically, the Menominee, along with the Saginaw and the Muskegon, was one of the three most productive logging rivers in Michigan and Wisconsin. The great years of lumbering in the U.P. and northeastern Wisconsin were from the early 1840s to about 1910. The Menominee River Boom Company was founded in 1866. In 1899 it processed 4,250,000 logs, making Menominee the largest lumber shipping port in the world. The last Menominee River logging drive was held in 1917.

Second Dam, Menominee River Between Marinette and Menominee (circa 1910)

To aid in bringing logs down the river, the Boom Company built a total of 44 dams on the Menominee and its various tributaries.

Saw Mill, Marinette, Wisc. (circa 1910)

The first sawmill was built on the Menominee River in 1831 by William Farnsworth and Charles Brush on what's now Riverside Avenue in Marinette, and the first steam sawmill was built in Menekaunee (now eastern Marinette) in 1856. By 1895 there were 22 sawmills on the river, 9 on the Marinette side and 13 on the Menominee side. One historian wrote that Menominee “became indescribably busy with fleets of schooners carrying boards, laths, shingles, and beams down to the Chicago docks and yards.”

The Four Seasons Island Resort, Menominee River near Pembine (circa 2000)

As it enters Menominee and Marinette Counties, the Menominee River begins to be more populated. A long-existing landmark is the Four Seasons Island Resort which is located on the 100-acre Miscauno Island in the Menominee River near Pembine in Marinette County. The Four Seasons was originally opened in 1905 by the Wisconsin and Michigan Railroad. It was a favorite retreat of Chicago gangster Al Capone and his cronies in the 1920’s and ‘30’s. Capone had his own glass-walled suite which enabled him to keep an eye out for intruders from both the Marinette and Menominee county sides of the river.

Hattie St. Bridge and Menominee River Paper Mill, Marinette, Wisc. (circa 1910)

The twin cities of Menominee and Marinette grew and prospered because their location at the mouth of the Menominee River enabled the shipment of huge volumes of lumber to Chicago and other Great Lakes cities. With the demise of the logging industry in the early 1900’s, paper mills and related industries became the backbone of the local economy.

Aerial View (from 10,000 feet) of Menominee (left), Marinette (right), and the Menominee River (circa 1940s)

The Menominee River is still central to industry in the twin cities. Today two paper mills, a chemical company, two wastewater treatment plants a shipbuilding company, and a foundry are located on the river in Menominee and Marinette.

Draw Bridge from Menekaunee Dock, Marinette, Wis. (circa 1910)

Three vehicle bridges cross the Menominee River between Menominee and Marinette: the Hattie St. Bridge to the west; the Interstate Bridge (Highway 41) in the middle; and the Menekaunee Bridge on the east. The Menekaunee Bridge is a drawbridge which allows for the passage of big Great Lakes ships into the Menominee River harbor and its various commercial and industrial loading docks.

There’s a lot more that might be said, of course. For my purposes, though, I think it’s quite amazing to contemplate how the river shapes communities, the economy, and people’s lives. It’s no wonder that we think that the Menominee River affected our lives. That’s been true for millions of others too.

Love,

Dave

SOURCES:

www.wikipedia.org (“Menominee River”, “Menominee, Michigan”)

www.michigandnr.com (“Menominee River/Piers Gorge”)

www.menominee.genwebsite.net (“Menominee County History”)

Google Images (“Menominee River postcard”, “Menominee River”, “Piers Gorge”)

Holy Smokes, A Holy Lamb

2012-01-03T08:29:00.012-05:00

Dear George,

The conservatory in Eden Park has been holding its holiday floral and model train display, so Katja and I went over to see it. As an added bonus, there was an insurance company-sponsored crèche next door which featured some big plastic wise men plus four or five contented sheep who were laying around munching hay. The sheep were roly-poly, and we didn’t even notice that one of them was pregnant, but then we heard on the news that she’d had her baby at 9:30 p.m. on Xmas Eve. A night watchman had assisted in the birth. The baby’s name hadn’t yet been finalized, but the conservatory director proposed “Merry” as in “Little Merry Xmas.” On New Years Day our friend Donna brought her sheepdog Sophie over, and we took the three dogs to Eden Park for a hike. We were pleased to find that the new baby lamb was out in a fenced enclosure with its relatives. Our sheepdogs, who have only seen sheep once in their lives, looked them over with instinctual interest, and the mother ewe eyed the dogs warily in turn. By New Years the media had begun reporting that the lamb had been born on Xmas day and that its name was “Christmas Mary”. The news stories seemed to imply that a miracle of sorts had occurred at Eden Park (a fitting place, of course, for miracles). Actually to be initially born on Xmas Eve and then to be born a second time on Xmas Day is something of a miracle. I’m not positive why they changed the lamb’s name to Mary, but it could be to honor Mary Tyler Moore whose TV company produced the popular sitcom “WKRP in Cincinnati.” In any case, the creche’s insurance sponsor has put up funds to guarantee that Baby Mary Christmas will reappear at the crèche each holiday season for the rest of her life. Because she’ll never been this tiny and cute again, I thought I’d better take these pictures and pass them along for posterity.

Love,

Dave

Year's End

2011-12-31T11:30:00.009-05:00

Dear George,

Well, there are just a few hours left for 2011. Once again, that slipped by too quickly. The year’s end always puts seems to generate a mood for reflection and summing up. All in all, 2011 was a pretty good year for Katja and myself. Our most monumental years together have been 1957 when we met, 1960 when we graduated and married, 1966 when we moved from grad school to jobs in Cincinnati, and 1969 when J was born. However, 2011 ranks up there too because of Katja’s retirement on June 1. She’s worked all her adult life, so this was a huge transition -- sort of in a league with marriage or childbirth. And. even though I retired three years ago, changes in Katja’s life situation have inevitably meant transitions for me too. I found my retirement disorienting at first, but then you start filling in the blank spaces, and, before you know it, you find yourself with a newly structured life. That seems to be happening for Katja too. She resumed her membership in the fitness center and began working out with a personal trainer. She joined a woman’s writing group which meets every two weeks, and she continues in her long-time women’s book club. Katja did three music courses in the university’s OLLI (Learning in Retirement) program and is expanding to five for the winter. With lots of flextime, we’ve done more stuff together during the day, including lunching at Panera or Olive’s a couple of times a week and going hither and yon.

From the left: J, V, K, L (at Burnet Woods, May 2011)

The other big happening of the year is that our grandchildren, V and L, turned three, thus completing a full third of their lives to date in 2011. That’s a lot of exciting growth and change. J, K, and V went to China in the autumn of 2009 to bring their new son and brother home to New Orleans, so 2011 has been L’s first full year with his family. When you think about how much happens from ages two to three and add on top of that a total change in L’s culture, community, and family, it’s hard to imagine. Given loving parents and a sister who is a best friend too, L has adapted excellently, becoming proficient in English for a three year old, secure and bonded in his family, and increasingly outgoing. Our granddaughter V has always been happy and full of enthusiasm, and her personality continues to blossom. The whole family came up to visit us in Cincinnati in late May, and we spent Thanksgiving with them in New Orleans. K and J are wonderful parents and fun to be with, laid back, full of good humor, committed, and always up to interesting things. We wish we didn’t live so far apart, but the distance makes get-togethers even more rewarding.

Duffy (left) and Mike in Mt. Airy Forest

On the home front, our Old English Sheepdogs, Mike and Duffy, turned nine last April and continue to be a daily source of happiness in our lives. They are wonderful dogs – intelligent, loving, obedient (or maybe semi-obedient). Getting a little creaky in their senior years, they’ve been visiting the dog chiropractor in Northern Kentucky every couple of months, and that’s been helpful. Most days I try to walk them a couple of miles, and we often do excursions on the weekend with Mike and Duffy’s younger sister Sophie and her “mom” Donna. I took the dogs on half a dozen short camping trips this past season. Frankly, they are not enthusiastic campers, showing a clear preference for air conditioning and a king-size bed, but they’re good company nonetheless. In mid-summer Katja and I took them on a four-day camping trip to Hocking Hills State Park, a beautiful place on the eastern side of the state lined with deep gorges, sandstone cliffs, and rich evergreen forests. I’m trying to talk Katja into more camping road trips with the dogs, e.g., to Michigan or Tennessee, though I know she shares their preference for indoor comforts.

At the Western & Southern Tennis Tournament (Aug., 2011)

Thanks to Katja, 2011 has been a busy year for us on the cultural scene. We’ve had season tickets to the CCM (Cincinnati Conservatory of Music) series in drama, musical theater, and opera. We’ve gone to the symphony regularly and are subscribers to the Linton Chamber Music series. We have season tickets to the Playhouse in the Park. We go to each new exhibition at the local art museums. Katja goes to Metropolitan Opera broadcasts at Springdale Cinemas, and she’s considering joining the Opera Guild. We’re inveterate movie-goers and have also enjoyed some quality TV this year (e.g., Boardwalk Empire, Mildred Pierce). Always to my surprise, Katja likes to watch NFL football, and we’ve cheered for the Packers and the Saints as well as the Bengals who have had a better than expected run. In August we went to several sessions of the world-class Western & Southern Tennis Championships in suburban Mason. In New Orleans we went with J to a Saints game at the Superdome, our first pro football outing in years.

Line Dancing Party (DCL at right)

I get a lot of regular enjoyment from get-togethers with friends, e.g., hiking with the dogs, walks in the neighborhood, lunch out or dinner at our house, antiquing, going to the movies. Every Tuesday night I go to my line dancing class which I look forward to all week. I’ve kept an office at the university where I work on writing and keep up informal contact with long-time work friends.

My siblings – Peter, Steve, Vicki

On a more melancholy note, I’ve found myself dwelling during the holiday season on our loss of family loved ones in recent years – my younger brothers Steven and Peter and my brother-in-law George, all in their early 60s. I’ve always had a vision of us all growing older together, and my and others’ lives today would be richer and more fulfilling if everyone were still around. There’s no good way to sugar coat this. I guess I would just say that our long history of shared experiences continues to make life more meaningful.

I looked back at a blog posting from twelve months ago where I made about a dozen New Year’s resolutions for myself for 2011. They were admirable though challenging. I recently rated my yearlong performance on each on a scale from 0% (nothing) to 100% (total fulfillment). My average score was 11%. I had more zeroes than anything else, and never topped 30%. I guess I’ll skip New Year’s resolutions this year. I’ll just plan to enjoy the year for what comes up, and, if I accidentally become more healthy, wealthy, or wise in one domain or another, so much the better.

Love,

Dave

Yes Virginia, Santa is a Vampire!

2011-12-28T14:14:00.005-05:00

Dear George,

When I was seven, one of my best friends, Marvin K., told me that Santa Claus was a vampire. I got very upset and told him that couldn’t be true. But the idea stuck around in my head, and I still think about it every year when Dec. 25 approaches. I never found a definitive answer in the past, but now that the Internet is available, you can get the facts about almost everything. As it turns out, there are some very knowledgeable people who have examined this question. I won’t list them here, but you can find them by googling “Santa Vampire”. Here’s just some of the pertinent information that vampire experts have determined:

(1) Santa Claus’s favorite color is blood red (i.e., observe his suit).

(2) Santa Claus lives forever and never ages (exactly like the undead).

(3) Like some other well-known creatures, Santa flies through the night sky.

(4) Santa is a nocturnal being who never appears in the daylight (do you suppose he would burst into flame?).

(5) All vampires possess superhuman speed; Santa visits all the houses in the world in a single night.

(6) Santa has other supernatural powers such that "he sees you when you're sleeping" and "he knows when you're awake." (Dracula watches people when they’re sleeping too.)

(7) Santa never comes through the door like a normal human being, but shrinks his chubby body down to the size of a bat so he can come down the chimney.

(8) Both Santa and vampires have an affinity for deer.

(9) Santa prefers a cold climate, just like the vampires in Transylvania.

(10) Santa has a ravenous, vampire-like appetite and consumes over a zillion cookies and glasses of milk in a single night.

(11) Santa is surrounded by an army of elves who also live forever, look eerie, and do his every bidding.

(12) Bram Stoker’s novel, Dracula, was published in 1897. The famous New York Sun editorial to Virginia, “Is there a Santa Claus?”, was published in 1897. A coincidence? I think not.

(13) If you rearrange the letters in Santa's name, what do you get? Could it possibly be...........Satan?

There are many sophisticated people out there who have concluded, without question, that Santa is a vampire. Some of the most cutting edge are members of the "Santa Claus is a Vampire" Fan Club at www.fanpop.com. The club’s 11 members include: narlyvamp1234, xgirl98, and girpandababies. Also there are numerous Facebook pages for believers: Santa Claus is a Twilight Vampire (24 likes); Vampire Santa (14 members); The Vampire Santa (107 likes); Santa Claus is a Vampire (24 members); Santa’s A Vampire (52 likes); I Believe That Santa Claus Is A Vampire (10 members); and Vampire Santa’s Egg Nog (63 members). Not that it’s totally conclusive, but when I googled "Santa Claus is a vampire," I got 33,400 hits. But when I googled “Santa Claus is not a vampire,” I only got 3 hits, One of those three claimed that Santa is not a vampire, but a zombie. I also looked for images of a “Vampire Santa” on the Internet. I got approximately 40 million hits. Most are drawings or cartoons, so they don’t settle the question. However, there are actual photographic images of vampire santas which are hard to dispute. For example, here’s one that’s pretty much settles the question:

There is also historical evidence for the Santa-vampire link. In a discussion among fans of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, a very articulate participant named Ahnya revealed that in the sixteenth century Santa appeared on Christmas night with flying reindeer and came down the chimney, but instead of delivering presents he disemboweled the children

(www.chosentwo.com). Similarly, on “Yahoo! Answers” a vampire named Antoine reports that Santa's real purpose on Christmas eve is "drinking the blood of naughty children." I should note that some of the skeptics who replied to Antoine (who, incidentally, is a former King of the Vampires) don't agree with him. For example, Ornetta wrote, "I really do not believe that there is a Santa Claus let alone a vampire one. I believe that this is a fantasy of yours and you need to find an outlet to this passion." I think Ornetta is being a little naive about this, if not downright rude.

I haven’t made an absolutely final conclusion, though virtually all of the evidence points to Santa being a vampire. Just to be on the safe side this past Xmas, I put garlic around our door frames and nailed silver crosses here and there. As far as I can tell, Santa skipped our house this year which certainly says something. Some people think that because Santa generously gives so many gifts to little children, he can’t be an evil vampire. It’s very possible, though, that he’s been lulling the population into a false sense of security for a couple of centuries, while getting ready to drink the blood of all the naughty children in a single swoop. I guess we’ll see, maybe next year. If I were back in second grade, I would start behaving really good right now.

Love,

Dave

My Most (& Least) Favorite Movies of 2011

2011-12-26T16:03:00.011-05:00

Dear George,

Often on Friday nights Katja, Donna, and I take in one of the week’s newly opened movies, either at the Esquire Theater in our neighborhood (which features indie, art, and foreign movies) or at one of the Rave cineplexes in the suburbs with their 16 screens of mainstream blockbusters. Over the course of a year we see a lot of the important movies that come out. I don’t think this year’s crop has been particularly memorable, though we have usually managed to find a picture we enjoyed. My standards aren’t real high. I’m usually happy if there’s something you can watch moving about on the screen. We haven’t seen some of the most recent holiday movies yet (e.g., Mission Impossible, War Horse), but here’s my current list of most favorite and least favorite pictures of 2011.

Love,

Dave

1. The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo. Daniel Craig, Rooney Mara. We came to this American remake of Stieg Larsson’s novel with high expectations, but David Fincher’s interpretation of Mikael Blomkvist and Lisbeth Salanders foray into a corrupt, evil family was even more powerful than expected. I decided it was a near-perfect movie.

2. Midnight in Paris. Owen Wilson, Rachel McAdams. Woody Allen created a warm, loving fantasy about a young engaged couple traveling in Paris with her parents when he is transported to the 1920’s world of Hemingway, Picasso, and Gertrude Stein. Woody’s clearly recaptured his form.

3. Bill Cunningham New York. An intimate documentary portrait of the 80+ year old New York Times photographer who has been riding around New York City on his bicycle for forty years, documenting fashion trends on the street by day and New York’s social science at night for his two weekly columns in the Sunday Times. I found it totally inspiring.

4. Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Part 2. Daniel Radcliffe, Rupert Grint, Emma Watson. As Harry, Ron, and Hermione continue their quest of destroying Lord Voldemort’s remaining Horcruxes and uncover the Deathly Hallows, Voldemort finds out about their mission, and the biggest battle of their lives begins (filled, of course, with state of the art special effects).

5. Hugo 3D. Asa Butterfield, Ben Kingsley. A tribute to childhood, love, imagination and the origin of the movies in which Hugo Cabret, an orphan who lives inside the clock in a Paris train station, encounters a broken machine, an eccentric girl, and the aloof man who runs the toy shop.

6. Moneyball. Brad Pitt, Jonah Hill. The true story of Oakland A's general manager Billy Beane's unorthodox but successful attempt to put together a baseball team on a limited budget by employing computer-generated analysis to draft players ignored or rejected by other teams. Exciting movies about statistics are hard to find.

7. Sarah's Key. Kristin Scott Thomas, Melusine Mayance. In modern-day Paris, a journalist commissioned to write an article about the notorious Vel d'Hiv round up in 1942 finds her life becoming entwined with the tragic history a young Jewish girl whose family was destroyed by the Nazis. Reminded me of Sophie’s Choice.

8. Another Year. Jim Broadbent, Lesley Manville. A funny/sad/deep movie in which Tom and Gerri, a happy couple in their sixties with a grown son, deal with the emotional upheaval of their friends and relatives over the four seasons of a year.

9. Water for Elephants. Robert Pattinson, Reese Witherspoon, Christoph Waltz. Vet school student Jacob loses his parents, jumps a train and joins the circus, then falls in love with equestrian star Marlena, bringing the wrath of her husband, circus owner and ringmaster August. An old-fashioned romance with tormented love, a hugely appealing elephant, excellent performances by all the stars, and a fun journey with a 1930’s circus.

10. Waste Land. Vik Muniz. Documentary of artist Vik Muniz’s collaboration with the pickers of Jardim Gramacho, the world’s largest landfill outside Rio de Janeiro, as he recreates photographic images of them out of recyclable garbage and reveals their dignity and despair.

11. The Fighter. Christian Bale, Mark Wahlberg. A gritty, distressing, nearly documentary-like picture of the early years of boxer “Irish” Micky Ward and his addict brother Dick Eklund who helped train him before he went pro in the mid-1980s.

12. Hanna. Saoirse Ronan, Eric Bana. Ex-CIA man Erik raises his daughter Hannah in the wilds of North Finland to become the perfect assassin, then realizes that she needs to go out in the world for the first time to deal with her family’s unfinished business (which she does with aplomb).

RUNNERS-UP: 13. Incendies (Lubna Azabal); 14. Bridesmaids (Kristen Wiig); 15. Super 8 (Kyle Chandler); 16. Buck (Buck Brannaman); 17. Martha Marcy May Marlene (Elizabeth Olsen); 18. Cave of Forgotten Dreams (by Werner Herzog); 19. The Debt (Helen Mirren); 20. The Conspirator (James McAvoy); 21. Biutiful (Javier Bardem); 22. Rabbit Hole (Nicole Kidman); 23. The Ides of March (Ryan Gosling); 24. The Help (Emma Stone); 25. X-Men: First Class (James McAvoy).

MY PICKS FOR WORST MOVIES OF THE YEAR

41. Cowboys & Aliens. Daniel Craig. A stranger with no memory stumbles into an Arizona town and is jailed by the sheriff, only to be called upon when the town comes under attack from powerful space aliens; good action scenes, but this movie appears to have been written by people who’d just ingested Ambien.

42. True Grit. Jeff Bridges. When 14-year-old Mattie Ross’s father is shot in cold blood by the coward Tom Chaney, she enlists the help of a trigger-happy, drunken U.S. Marshal, Rooster Cobgurn, to hunt the killer down; the Coen Bros. successfully reproduce the look and feel of 1950s Westerns, but who wants to return to 1950s Westerns?

43. Blue Valentine. Ryan Gosling, Michelle Williams. An arty, emotionally gripping examination of a contemporary married couple, Dean and Cindy, who to try and save their failing marriage – so miserable and despairing, I concluded there’s no redeeming social value.

44. The Adjustment Bureau. Matt Damon. A hokey philosophical conflict between free will and predestination in which a politician meets a beautiful dancer, but, just as he realizes he’s falling in love, mysterious “adjustment” men conspire to keep the two apart.

45. Horrible Bosses. Jason Bateman. Three friends conspire to murder their awful bosses when they realize they are destroying their lives and happiness; occasionally funny, but more often gross, sexist, and juvenile.

46. Breaking Dawn - Part 1. Kristen Stewart, Robert Pattinson. Bella and vampire Edward must deal with the consequences of their marriage, honeymoon, and birth of their child; we disregarded the critics who claimed that only 12-year-old girls would like this movie, but, in fact, the critics proved correct.

47. Thor (3D). Chris Hemsworth. Marvel Comics superhero Thor is sent to Earth as punishment for reigniting a reckless war, but has to learn how to be a true here when a dangerous villain from his world threatens Earth; accompanied by dull 3D special effects, a non-charismatic hero, and a stupid story line.

48. 127 Hours. James Franco. True-ish story of a mountain climber who saves his life by cutting off his arm after a fallen boulder traps him in an isolated canyon; supposedly inspiring, but only to masochists.

Xmas at Our House (and Ami's)

2011-12-22T17:54:00.007-05:00

Our Xmas tree at Williamsburg Apartments (circa 1972)

Dear George,

The Xmas season always elicits a storehouse of memories. Katja and I started doing family celebrations when our son J was three months old. It wasn’t that meaningful for a tiny infant, but his parents were over-flowing with enthusiasm. When J became a toddler, we’d take him over to Johnny’s Toy Store in Greenhills to look over the aisles and aisles of merchandise in order to get some sense of his wishes. These outings would start out thrillingly, but after 30 minutes or so J would break into tears because of the hyper-stimulation. Early on we celebrated eight days of Hannukah gifts topped off with Santa’s Xmas Eve visit, but that became a little excessive, so we trimmed back to just family presents and Santa Claus. I’d start producing tree ornaments in October, and J would add those that he made and brought home from Clifton School. Mostly I’d use acrylics to paint faces onto paper mache or cookie dough heads. One year I painted happy faces on clam shells we’d brought home from the Menominee River bank (see pic above). We saved the ornaments each year and accumulated a sizeable collection (still stored somewhere in a cardboard box in our basement).

Cowboy J at Xmas time (circa 1973)

Around mid-December we’d buy a Xmas tree at the Clifton Methodist church and set it up in a corner of the living room. We’d also build a snowman in the side yard. J assisted, and the older and taller he got, the larger the snowman got. Actually, they weren’t really snowmen. Since we were a rabbit-owning family (Thumper, Sunbeam, etc.), we built snow rabbits. When J reached 12, we used a stepladder and built a snow rabbit that was eight feet tall. It was the wonder of the neighborhood. I used to go out at night when the temperature fell below freezing and sprinkle water on it so it would turn to ice. A passerby saw me one night and started hollering at me from across the street, thinking I was a vandal out to destroy the spirit of Xmas.

Snow rabbit at our Ludlow Ave. house (circa 1977)

We almost never celebrated Xmas at home in Cincinnati. We’d open our family presents four or five days beforehand, then set out on the turnpike for grandparents Buck and Helen’s house on Sherwood Rd. in northwest Philadelphia. J was the first grandchild in their extended family, and Helen and Buck would invite the whole group to come over and ooh and ahh. Xmas itself was pretty irrelevant in their Jewish household, but there would still be an abundance of holiday presents. Buck would take us downtown to the wonderful Italian street market for Philly Cheesesteak sandwiches, and we’d have a family holiday dinner at Horn and Hardart’s, Katja’s childhood favorite. Helen would treat us to pink lemonade and cucumber sandwiches at the Crystal Tea Room on the top floor of Wanamaker’s. Katja, J, and I would tour the Art Museum, the Franklin Institute, Lord & Taylor’s, and the Bala Cynwyd shops. Sometimes we’d go to the zoo and the Japanese pavilion in Fairmont Park. Then, on the morning of the Dec. 24, we would head off for Katja’s sister Ami’s and her brother-in-law Bruce’s home on Manhattan’s Upper West Side.

Buck at Sherwood Road (circa 1973)

Xmas was a wonderful time to be in New York. Horsedrawn carriages, Santas on the street corners, roasted chestnuts, and the hustle and bustle of holiday crowds. As soon as we arrived, J and I would set off on the subway for Times Square. With all the bright lights and extravagant displays, it was like Xmas there every day of the week. We would accompany Bruce to buy a Xmas tree on Broadway in the 80s. The price always seemed exorbitant to me, but it didn’t phase Bruce. Katja and Ami were enthusiastic, generous present givers, and we would have sort of a potlatch gift exchange on Christmas Eve before sitting down to Ami’s elegant dinner. We’d go to Rockefeller Center to watch the skaters and admire the Xmas tree which had been transported from Vermont or Maine. Then we’d stop in at St. Patrick’s Cathedral. We’d head down to see the Xmas windows at Macy’s and tour the Soho galleries. We’d do the Canal Street plastic stores, Chinatown, the Lower East Side, and sometimes the South Street Seaport. Katja would buy tickets for the opera at the Met, and Ami would get us all Broadway theater tickets. She and Bruce would take us out for a night on the town at one of New York’s finest restaurants. Usually Ami and Katja would go to Bloomingdale’s to take advantage of the post-Xmas sales, then have oysters for lunch at the concourse in Grand Central Station. J and I would go off on our own and wander around the city. One of our most memorable experiences occurred on the Upper East Side when J was about 12. We were walking along on the edge of Central Park, talking and laughing, and I noticed an attractive brunette woman in a fur coat smiling at our father-son camaraderie. When I looked more closely, it turned out to be Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis. We smiled back to Jackie. That was our heartwarming brush with fame.

Ami (circa 1973)

Our snow rabbit was always waiting for us when we got home, and we’d go to the kennel to pick up our traumatized Bedlington Terrier, Winston. We’d keep our Xmas tree up in the living room for a long time, usually till Valentine’s Day. One January J and I gathered up discarded Xmas trees that our neighbors had put out by the curbside, and soon we had a dense forest of about two dozen trees on our porch. It was difficult to get to the back door. Now it’s 2011, and we’re home for Xmas this year. As has regularly been the case when we’re in town for the holidays, we’ll be “adopted” by our dear friends, the Minkarahs, and we’ll go over and join their family on Xmas eve. Their kids and grandkids come in from the East and West coasts, and they always have a spirited get-together, culminating in a splendid Lebanese feast. We’ll have a good time, though we do miss all our dear family members.

Happy Holidays and Love to All,

Dave

G-mail Comments

-Ami G (12-22): It's not too late! Come to NYC! It's all here waiting for you! Merry! Merry! Love. Ami and Bruce

-Gayle C-L (12-22): Ur too much. I am sending you something. U probably will get it after xmas. Talk to u at Xmas.

Love u. :))

Saturday Night Fever 3: Crazy for Line Dancing

2011-12-19T18:05:00.004-05:00

Our Line Dancing Class (Halloween, 2009)

Dear George,

Except when I’ve been out of town, I’ve gone to my line dancing class every Tuesday night for the last two years. I look forward to it all week long. In fact, I wish they’d offer it three or four times a week. Recently the instructor, Jack, sent around an e-mail announcing that he was starting a new line dancing class on Monday nights. That sounded great, and I was all ready to sign up. However, when I looked more carefully at the message he’d sent to 138 prospective enrollees, mine was the only male name I could find on the address list. Hmm. I decided instead I should expand my line dancing practice by watching videos on YouTube.

Katja, our friend Donna, and I joined the line dancing class together at the fitness center two years ago. There were three or four men in the class and about fifteen women. Katja injured her knee after six months, and she dropped out. Donna, who’s a very skilled dancer, eventually lost interest, and she discontinued too. By that time there were just two men left, me and another guy also named David. I decided to stick with it. We two Davids couldn’t have been more opposite. The other David was very gregarious, pal’d around with all the women before and after class, joked with the instructor, and delighted in showing off his ability to shake his booty. I, by comparison, was the prototypic wallflower, rarely talking to anybody, concentrating solely on learning new dance steps. The other David told me one evening he was glad I was there so there would be at least two males, and I agreed. Then about three months ago talkative David stopped showing up. After he missed several sessions, I asked Gillian, one of the assistant instructors, where he was, and she said he’d moved to Colorado. That was a shock. By then there were about two dozen women in the class and me.

It’s odd to be the sole man in an otherwise all-woman class. I don’t think in my entire life I’ve been a member of a big group where I was the only male. There’s an enjoyable atmosphere in the class, but I also feel I stand out like a sore thumb. I don’t think of line dancing as a gendered activity, though maybe it is. It’s easy to think of a group of men playing pickup basketball or Texas poker, but it’s harder to imagine an all-male group of line dancers. Line dancing might be a little too collectivistic and high in uniformity to be an all-male enterprise. Maybe it’s something men do when they’re recruited by their female partners.

About a month ago Jack announced a Saturday night line dancing party that he was organizing as a charity event at a veterans hall in Northern Kentucky. A couple of my female classmates asked me if I were going, and I said I didn’t think so. It’s hard enough to go to class on Tuesdays with a batch of mostly strangers, much less going out on my own to a big event on Saturday night. As the day got closer, though, I started reconsidering. Jack said that some of the Cincinnati Bengals cheerleaders might be there, and there might even be a local TV crew. Gillian, one of the assistant instructors, announced in class that I ought to go, and a number of my classmates voiced their agreement. I think Gillian thought it would be good to have at least one man there for the TV cameras. I struggled back and forth with the idea all week long. On the one hand, the social mingling part of it made me anxious. On the other hand, I realized that I’ve tended to react that way since I was six years old, so maybe I should try to be more socially courageous.

Saturday rolled around. Katja and I had an enjoyable start to the day when we attended a friend’s graduation ceremony at Northern Kentucky and then all had lunch together at the Netherland Hilton. That put me in a sufficiently good mood that I told Katja that I thought I might go to the line dancing party. She thought that was an excellent idea. I got there a little after the 7:00 start time. A couple of my classmates were dancing in the front row, and they blurted out my name in amazement as I walked in. I joined them in the Electric Slide, and, when the number was over, they said they were really surprised to see me. Actually I was pretty surprised too, but I didn’t let on. There was a good-sized crowd – people from Jack’s four different classes, as well as regulars from the Rodeo’s country line dancing nightclub that had recently closed down in suburban Cincinnati. I wasn’t the sole male -- there were probably a dozen or more men on the dance floor at various times. The Rodeo dancers stood out as especially good and made me want to get better. The Bengals Cheerleaders didn’t show up, nor did the TV crew, but that didn’t matter. There were a lot of younger people, some number in my oldish age group, and a ten-year-old girl who was pretty good. My female classmates invited me over to their table and went out of their way to make me feel at home. The dancing went on for three hours, and, all in all, it was a big success. In total, 120 people came, and they made four thousand dollars for the charity. Having gotten my feet wet, I guess I’ll definitely go again next time. Clearly line dancing fever is in my blood.

Love,

Dave

G-mail Comments

-Vicki L (12-19): I’m so proud of you DVD - I have to encourage my willingness to go solo adventuring! Lv, v

-Gayle C-L (12-19): David, You're so crazy. :).

-Jennifer M (12-19: YAY!!!!! I can't wait to hear more about this.

Thanksgiving in New Orleans

2011-12-15T11:20:00.019-05:00

St. Louis Cathedral on Jackson Square

Dear George,

We’ve had many terrific trips to visit our family in New Orleans over the years, but this Thanksgiving was clearly the best. Our grandchildren V and L are growing up by the day, and they become more wonderful each time we see them. This time we went for a full week and did a whole bunch of things. Here are some photos which track our adventures.

Love,

Dave

At the Races (J, L, V, & Katja)

It was opening day for the 2011-12 horse-racing season at the Fairgrounds, and J took us over to check out the scene. They’ve held races here since 1852, the third oldest thoroughbred meet in the U.S., and the day’s events featured a $75,000 purse. V and L liked the brisket sandwiches and pork and beans, and we all enjoyed the horses. The best part, though, was the motley crowd, with women in extravagant hats and couples dressed in 40’s vintage clothes. New Orleanians seem to love their finery.

The Audubon Zoo Carrousel (V & J)

The New Orleans Zoo, with its 58 acres and 2,000 animals, is a gorgeous place, one of the nation’s top ten zoos. That includes the best merry-go-round we’ve seen in years (maybe ever). V chose the alligator for her ride, and L (accompanied by Katja) picked the orangutan.

City Park

Our family spends a lot of time at City Park which is within walking distance of their home. It’s the sixth largest public park in the U.S., about 50% larger than Central Park in NYC. K took me over with the kids on an outing, and I could see why it’s so beloved. City Park contains the world’s largest collection of live oaks, some over 600 years old. Definitely one of New Orleans’ most splendid features.

On Bourbon Street

We made multiple trips to the French Quarter, usually riding the trolley down Canal Street from Mid-City. On our very first trip to New Orleans with my parents and Jean and Ann W. in 1970, we all fell in love with the Maison Bourbon jazz club, and we’re pleased that it’s still thriving four decades later.

Drinks at Arnaud’s

Speaking of family get-togethers, we met up with my sister-in-law Faith, my niece Jessica, and her husband Sean for pre-dinner drinks at Arnaud’s on Bienville Street. They’d come down from New York state and Michigan. Arnaud’s was founded in 1918 and is one of NOLA’s four classic creole restaurants. A great bar.

St. Louis Cathedral

We always visit the Cathedral on Jackson Square. It’s been around since 1718, though the current structure was built in 1850. It’s very beautiful, inside and out. After taking in New Orleans’ seamy side on Bourbon Street, St. Louis Cathedral reminds us that there are also more spiritual matters in the universe.

Café du Monde

As soon as possible, Katja headed for the French Market and beignets and café au lait. Café du Monde has been there since 1862 and is open 24 hours a day, 7 days a week (except Xmas and hurricanes). We snacked on beignets three times during our stay, could easily have done many more.

On the Way to Domenica’s (JML photo)

We enjoyed two big downtown nights out with K and J, first at Ruth Chris Steakhouse, then at Domenica’s Restaurant in the Roosevelt Hotel (once Huey Long’s hangout). Here we’re in the Roosevelt lobby, dressed up for dinner at Domenica’s.

Lunch at Drago's

Lunches were oyster time for Katja, Po-Boy’s for me. We finally got into Bourbon House Seafood for lunch after a couple of failed tries on previous visits (too filled up). Katja also had great oysters at Drago’s. The oysters were gigantic – at the very peak of the season.

In the Sculpture Garden

We thoroughly enjoyed the Sculpture Garden in Audubon Park, beautiful for its lagoons and live oaks, live oaks, and pines, as well as its fifty-seven elegant sculptures (Henry Moore, Jaques Lipchitz, Louise Bourgeois et al.). We’ve been going there since they opened in 2003. And we visited the wonderful Art Museum too.

Doing the Art Fair

At J and K’s suggestion we took in the monthly Sunday Art Fair on Carrollton Ave. in Mid-City. With fifty or sixty excellent vendors (paintings, photography, wood, jewelry, etc.), it was lots of fun for browsing.

Trained Elephants

We haven ‘t been to a circus for a long time, and we’d forgotten how magical it can be (especially in the company of the young). We sat up close at the Shrine Circus and enjoyed the trained animal acts (tigers, elephants, dogs) and well as the clowns and trapeze artists. The daredevil motorcyclists, doing acrobatic tricks 50 feet in the air, blew our tiny minds.

World War II Museum

We think that New Orleans’ World War II Museum is one of the best museums we’ve ever been to. Originally centered on the D-Day invasion at Normandy, it’s been expanded to cover the Pacific Theater, and plans are underway to quadruple its size. We found ourselves choking up since my dad, Uncle Kent. and family friends and acquaintances were stationed in combat zones in Europe and the Pacific. We keep forgetting what a catastrophic, terrible war this was – unlike anything before or after.

At the Saints Game (JML photo)

We wound up our trip watching the Saints play the New York Giants at the Superdome (now the Mercedes-Benz Stadium). We hadn’t gone to an NFL game in years, and it was thrilling. Quarterback Drew Brees was at the top of his game, and the Saints fans were out of their minds. New Orleans won 49-25, and the newspaper the next morning said it might have been the most perfect game the Saints ever played.

V and L with Iko and Titus (JML photo)

Of course, compared to pro football players, giant elephants, abstract sculptures, speedy horses, stately cathedrals, and char-broiled oysters, we’d have to conclude that cutie-pies L and V remain the number one highlight of our most excellent trip!

Love,

Dave

G-mail Comments

-PSS (12-18): Dave, What fun. You make me want to go there. Especially the park…. Merry, Phyllis

-Donna D (12-15): how wonderful! donna

-JML (12-15): hey dad, nice memories already…. J***

Nasty Brawl, Tarnished Images

2011-12-12T21:25:00.005-05:00

Dear George,

I’ve been a UC basketball fan since we came here in the late 1960’s. Oscar Robertson, perhaps the greatest college player of all times, starred for UC’s team from 1958 to 1960, and the school won national championships in 1961 and 1962. Part of that tradition is the Crosstown Shootout, the annual game between UC and local rival, Xavier University. Cincinnati’s two Division One college teams are frequently ranked in the top 25 in the country, and the inter-city matchup between schools a mere two miles apart involves the closest proximity of major college basketball rivalries in the nation. Xavier is a smaller, Jesuit university with a higher academic ranking and more of an elitist private school feel about it. UC is a much larger public university with slightly more of a blue collar aura. Members of the two teams play summer basketball together, know one anothers’ games well, and are eager to establish local bragging rights. The game has been going on since 1927, and UC has had the upper hand overall (48 vs. 31 victories). Xavier, however, had won 8 of the last 12 games, and, enjoying a No. 8 national ranking so far this year, they have been the clear favorite this time around. The competition was intensified the week beforehand when controversial local talk-radio show host Andy Furman interviewed UC guard Sean Kilpatrick and elicited Kilpatrick’s opinion that he was superior to Xavier’s All-American guard, Tu Holloway (who Kilpatrick suggested wouldn’t even be able to start on UC’s team).

Saturday’s game started off very closely for the first fifteen minutes – 8 ties and 6 lead changes. Then, with about five minutes left in the half, Tu Holloway sank a three-pointer which began a 12-0 run for Xavier. Xavier went on to outscore UC 42-28 in the second half, resulting in one of the largest blowouts in the series’ history, 76-53. With 15 seconds left in the game Holloway said something to UC’s bench as he ran down the court. Later he reported, “I was just saying that it’s my city right here. I’m cut from a different cloth. None of those guys on that team are like me.” With 9.4 seconds left, Holloway and UC freshman Ge’Lawn Guyn engaged in a heated verbal exchange, and XU freshman Dezmine Wells shoved Guyn to the floor. Both benches emptied, and players from the two teams engaged in an all-out brawl, pushing, shoving, and throwing elbows and punches, while coaches and staff members tried to break up the fight. During the melee 6’-9” UC senior center and star Yancy Gates landed a Mike Tyson-like punch over the left eye of 7-foot Xavier center Kenny Frease, and another of UC’s big men, junior Cheikh Mbodj, kicked Frease after he had fallen to the ground. When Frease was helped up, the left side of his face was bathed in blood. The officials declared the game over, and Holloway got on top of the scorers’ table, yelling about the victory. Eventually the two teams were escorted from the floor in what had become a tense and dangerous situation.

The respective coaches and university officials quickly issued strong statements condemning the outbreak. UC coach Mick Cronin said, “There is no excuse for any of it, on our side, on their side…We accept full responsibility. It will be handled. There is zero excuse for that in basketball. You’ve got to learn how to win on one side. You’ve got to learn how to lose on the other side.” Xavier coach Chris Mack allowed his starting guards, Holloway and Mark Lyons, to do post-game interviews (a move that he later regretted), and neither player expressed any sort of apology. Holloway said that the game’s hostile atmosphere was due to Kilpatrick’s statements in his earlier radio interview with Andy Furman: “We got disrespected a little bit before the game, guys calling us out. We’re a tougher team. We’re grown men over here. We’ve got a whole bunch of gangsters in the locker room, not thugs but tough guys on the court. We went out there and zipped them up at the end of the game.” Mark Lyons added, “At the end of the day, if someone puts their hands in your face or tries to do something to you, where we’re from, we’re going to do something back. We’re not going to sit there and get our face beat in by somebody like Yancy Gates or somebody like that”

A day later UC issued six-game suspensions for Gates, Mbodj, and one of the freshman players who had swung punches, as well as a one-game suspension for Guyn who had been involved in the initial confrontation. Xavier suspended Wells for four games; Lyons and a walk-on player for two games; and Tu Holloway for one game. Players publicly apologized or retracted earlier statements. The Hamilton County prosecutor’s office announced it was exploring the possibility of felony charges.

The brawl elicited a lot of distress on many people’s parts: the players, the coaches, university officials, alumni and fans, reporters, and the general public. While the media took a moralistic tone, they also provided nonstop coverage of the incident, including Internet videos of the brawl, blogs, and endless hours of talk radio discussion. Everybody got some of the blame: the fighting players themselves, the coaches (who didn’t take their starters out of the game near the end when the game was essentially over), the referees (who failed to take steps to reduce mounting tempers), Xavier student fans (whose relentless taunting of the UC bench and coaches contributed to the scene), excessive pre-game hype from the media, and the university’s sports programs themselves. Some observed that incidents like this don’t happen at Harvard vs. Princeton games. Players’ reputations and even their potential professional prospects were damaged, as were images of the two universities and their athletic programs. Some have proposed that the game be cancelled in the future. Questions were raised whether UC and Xavier were recruiting athletes who met their schools’s standards, whether the intensity of inter-collegiate athletics has exceeded all reasonable bounds, and whether glorification of power, violence, and hyper-masculinity necessarily results in destructive consequences. On the other hand, it’s easy to get carried away with moralizing. Some fans noted that it’s not that unusual for team sports events to erupt in fighting. Maybe if Gates’s punch hadn’t bloodied Frease’s cheek and it hadn’t been captured on color TV screens, the whole event would have faded away by now. I do think that the statements and actions by the respective universities were appropriate, that the offending players need to take their medicine, and that various parties should examine what sort of adjustments can minimize a recurrence of the happening. Then it’s time to move on. I guess I’ll still cheer for the UC Bearcats.

Love,

Dave

Source: Cincinnati Enquirer (multiple stories at www.news.cincinnati.com, Dec. 10-12, 2011)

G-mail Comments

-Phyllis S-S (12-13): Dave, Wow - you make it come alive. I'm glad I wasn't there though. I hate seeing that stuff…. Phyllis

V and L: NOLA Sweeties, Age Three

2011-12-08T20:04:00.020-05:00

V and L in their double stroller

Dear George,

Our granddaughter V and grandson L turned three in September. We hadn’t seen the children since May, and we were excited to spend Thanksgiving in New Orleans. V and L are growing up very quickly. As a duo, they sang the alphabet song, recited the pledge of allegiance, and counted to ten in Spanish. They can operate the remote for the cable TV (which we never figured out) and are working on using their dad’s I-phone. They’ve also gotten to the stage where they’re good playmates with each other and much more able to communicate. K and J are model parents -- loving, involved, creative, sensitive, and fully enjoying their kids. It’s not an easy responsibility. Having been a parent in a one-child family, I’d say two kids the same age are a much more complicated task. There aren’t many breaks during the children’s ever-busy waking hours. However, J and K remain remarkably calm and supportive -- I don’t think either one of them raised their voice a single time. They delight in the children so much that even the hard stuff becomes fun. The children have become still more sociable since we last saw them. V, in particular, seems very adept for her age. When we went to a big Thanksgiving potluck dinner, she mixed among all the adults with ease. On the way to the party, V had picked a little blue flower, and, when we passed a young woman sitting on her steps, V handed her the flower and said, “I picked this for you.” You could see the young woman’s heart melt right on the spot. L, too, has become much more outgoing and secure than he was six months ago. Here are some photos of these cutie-pies which give a sense of their lives at age three.

Love,

Dave

Katja with V and Iko

We did some baby-sitting our first full day while J and K were at work. Katja was a little nervous beforehand, but once V told her how much she loved “Nana”, all anxieties evaporated.

Katja, V, and L watch "Diego"

The children watch some TV each day, and they sit motionless, entirely transfixed. They introduced us to “Diego” and “Dora”, and we became transfixed too.

At the Lemonade Parade

We walked up to Carrolton Ave. and discovered the Lemonade Parade smoothie shop. V and L split a strawberry Smoothie, and Katja had one too. I initially declined, but then decided to have a dish of chocolate ice cream. V and L, of course, immediately decided that chocolate ice cream was the best. I wound up sharing, though I insisted that children take a drink of their smoothies before each spoonful of ice cream.

Two angels take a nap

The children get up really early, and after hours of high paced activity they’re ready for a nap. They drift off without a peep like little angels.

Feeding the ducks at City Park

One afternoon K took us to City Park which is a short drive from their house. There’s a fun playground, a Peristyle guarded by huge sculpted lions, and a flock of ducks who are happy to chase after a never-ending supply of bread crumbs.

Busy at Cooking School

“Cooking School” is a favorite activity at home. L and V were pretty accomplished at measuring out the flour, breaking eggs with their hands, and mixing it all together. I didn’t taste the finished product, but the children gobbled it up.

L is an excellent eater

My vague impression is that the children eat all the time. They zoom around at such a rapid pace that they need a lot of fuel, and they snack all day long. Unlike lots of children who can be more picky, V and L eat everything. Fruits and vegetables, nuts, granola bars, hummas, crackers, eggs, chicken, etc.

V greets Mr. Okra

Mr. Okra, New Orleans’ last traveling fruit and vegetable vendor, made his weekly rounds one day, and V ran out to greet him. Mr. Okra knows V and L by name, and they had a friendly exchange.

V and L on the Panther

We went to the zoo in Audubon Park one afternoon, another of the children’s favorite outings. It’s a beautiful setting because of the palm trees, live oaks, and tropical foliage, and the children loved the animals, whether real or sculpted.

Cotton candy at the Circus

There’s nothing that lends more magic to the circus than a pair of three-year-olds. I’d forgotten how wonderful cotton candy can be. Not to mention the wild tigers, trained elephants, trapeze artists, and motorcycle daredevils.

Building the gingerbread house

K brought home a gingerbread house package from the store, and the children enthusiastically helped to build it. Because of a few mishaps, it took some duct tape to get the structure to hold together, but it was a big success nonetheless.

V’s photo of Mom and Grandpa

V decided she was tired of being photographed, but would rather take the photographs herself. I gave her my digital camera, and (at age 3) she took this picture of her Mom and Grandpa. You can tell that the adults thought this was fun.

Leo climbs on Grandpa (photo by JML)

A nice thing about little kids, like doggies, is that there’s a lot of affection shown through physical contact. I enjoyed reading the Times-Picayune while L enjoyed climbing on my back.

V stomps her foot

Even though V didn’t want to have her picture taken any more, she became more cooperative when I captured her stomping her foot on the dining room table. L, in the meantime, shows the kind of concentration abilities that suggests that one day he’ll be a prominent scholar.

Family breakfast at the Ruby Slipper

We all went out to breakfast at the Ruby Slipper, right down the street. V and L have reached an age where they can do pretty well eating out, and they elicited many admiring reactions from the public.

Grandkids and grandparents

All in all, we had a wonderful time. Now we’re sad to be away, but look forward to our next get-together.

G-mail Comments

-Phyllis S-S (12-9): dear Dave, They are soooooooo adorable. You look very happy being with them… Phyllis

-Gayle C-L (12-9): David, What a great trip you had w the family.

The last photo w you Katya and the kids is just great! Everyone looks great and the kids have really grown:) Looking forward to your next letter:)

Lots of love, G

Report from NOLA: 1. Mid-City, Looking Good

2011-12-04T12:31:00.028-05:00

Dear George,

Katja and I are recently back from a wonderful Thanksgiving visit to New Orleans to see our son and daughter-in-law, J and K, and our darling grandchildren, V and L. Their house is in the middle of Mid-City, which in turn is in the middle of New Orleans, about halfway between the Mississippi River and Lake Pontchartrain. K and J live just two blocks away from Canal Street, so we could walk a short distance, hop on the bright red trolley, and, for forty cents apiece, enjoy a 2.5-mile ride to the French Quarter. Mid-City is a largely residential area, off the beaten track for tourists except during Jazzfest. It’s a hip, mixed income, well-integrated neighborhood with lots of young families. It’s bounded by N. Broad St., Orleans Ave., City Park Ave., and the I-10 Expressway. Canal St. runs through its center, and N. Carrollton Ave. and Jefferson Davis Parkway cut across it.

I spent some time every day walking around the neighborhood because I’d adopted the role of official dogwalker for the family pooches, Titus and Iko. I was particularly taken with Mid-City’s architecture which is unlike anything we have in Cincinnati. The majority of the buildings are double shotgun houses which date back to the late 1800s and which are decorated with wooden "gingerbread" ornaments. Shotgun houses are long and narrow and get their name because one supposedly can shoot a shotgun through the front door and it will exit the rear door without ever touching a wall in between. Mid-City borders City Park with its Art Museum and Sculpture Garden and is home to numerous excellent restaurants and bars, some of the city’s finest old cemeteries, and the Mid-City Lanes Rock N Bowl where J and K introduced us to Zydeco dancing years ago. The levee breech at the 17th Street Canal following Hurricane Katrina resulted in massive flooding of the neighborhood with virtually all of its buildings heavily damaged or destroyed. Like most local homeowners, J and K, who had just bought their first house two years before the hurricane, had to entirely gut the interior and rebuild from scratch. Mid-City has led New Orleans in housing reconstruction, and a casual observer might not even realize that the nation’s most devastating natural disaster occurred here just six years ago.

I took the photos below in J and K’s immediate neighborhood, mainly between Jeff Davis and Carrollton and between Canal St. and Palmyra. It’s a fun and interesting place in which to stroll around. Lots of dogs, cats snoozing on the stoops, palm trees and live oaks, tropical flowers, kids at play, friendly people, and interesting houses. Here are some of the scenes that caught my eye.

Love,

Dave

SOURCES FOR INFO ON MID-CITY:

www.city-data.com (“Mid-City New Orleans”)

www.gnocdc.org ("Mid-City Neighborhood Snapshot")

www.mcno ("Mid-City New Orleans Neighborhood Organization")

www.wikipedia.org ("Mid-City New Orleans")

www.wikitravel.org ("New Orleans/Mid-City and Esplanade Ridge")

G-Mail Comments:

-Vicki L (12-5): HI David, Thanks for the photos of J and K's neighborhood- great to get a feel for where they're living. Such troopers. Glad you had a good trip… Love to Katja, you, Mike and Duffy. Sis

-Donna D (12-4): this was great david. wonderful pictures! donna

I Scream, You Scream...

2011-11-30T18:09:00.004-05:00

The Ideal Dairy, Highway 577, Menominee, Mich.

Dear George,

If I try to imagine what heaven is like, I get a picture of winding gold-paved streets lined on both sides with gigantic self-serve ice cream stands. There’s every conceivable flavor, from mocha bean to maraschino cherries in peanut butter; gallons of toppings; and an endless supply of whipped cream, peanuts, bananas, and M&M’s. Nobody watches over you, and it’s all free. You can eat as much as you want. I guess that vision means that there’s hardly anything that’s as pleasurable as ice cream. That feeling is undoubtedly due to my family history. My dad was born in Marinette, Wisc., so we children were born with DNA from the Dairy State. We ate lots of cheese in our house, my parents’ favorite being Steve’s Cheese from Denmark, Wisc. Katja and I still buy a couple of bricks of Steve’s Cheese every time we pass through the Green Bay airport. As kids we guzzled down big glasses of milk whenever we were thirsty. Every couple of days the Ideal Dairy delivery man pulled into our driveway, picked up the metal rack of empty milk bottles from the utility room, and left a half dozen new quarts. Each bottle had an inch of thick cream at the top, and you needed to shake it well to get the milk and cream mixed together. The motto on the Ideal bottle read, “For Mothers Who Care.” We youth would question our mother about whether that was really true, and she would simply smile.

The Ideal Dairy was up the road from us on Highway 577, right at the city limits. It was good for milk, but it was sensational for ice cream. My father would bundle the family into our car and take us to the Idol, as he called it. They would have about twenty flavors on hand – the conventional ones, e.g., vanilla, chocolate, strawberry – plus numerous specials of the week. My favorite was Lemon Flake. I still salivate when I think about it. Since I left Menominee in the mid-1950’s I’ve never seen anything that comes close to the Ideal Dairy’s Lemon Flake. Their ice cream cones cost two dips for a nickel, and we were allowed to get four dips as long as we could eat it all. When I became a teenager I’d ride my bike home from school past the Ideal, buy six dips of Lemon Flake, and balance the whole thing while I rode home steering the bike with my left hand and eating my cone with my right. My dad always observed that ice cream was a dairy product and hence one of the healthiest things you could put into your body.

At home we frequently had ice cream for dessert. Vic would ask ahead of time what we wanted him to pick up at the grocery store, and we always wanted Sealtest Neopolitan since you got chocolate, strawberry, and vanilla all in one. As the oldest child, I had the task of dividing up a pint for the four children. Vicki and Peter were the youngest, so I’d split off a third of the pint and divide it in half for them. Family rules then called for me to split the remaining ice cream into two parts and give my younger brother Steven first choice between the pieces. You never saw such precise cutting. It was usually impossible to tell which slice was larger, but, if I made a slight mistake, there would be a lot of hooting and hollering. One time I took our two-thirds of the pint and split it into two drastically unequal parts, e.g., 80% and 20%. Steven was taken aback and didn’t know what to do. He sat and looked at it for quite a while, laughed nervously, and finally took the 20% piece for himself and gave me, his older brother, 80%. I felt a twinge of guilt, but it didn’t detract from my enjoyment.

Our most thrilling family ice cream outings would occur when my dad would take us all to town to my Uncle Kent’s Menominee drug store after hours. Vic had a key to the front door, and we’d all go in and run to the soda fountain. We were allowed to be totally in charge of making our own ice cream sundaes. The only rule was that we had to eat everything we made for ourselves. My typical sundae would have six or seven different scoops of ice cream with multiple toppings, e.g., chocolate, butterscotch, raspberry, strawberry, pineapple, peach, caramel. Sometimes I’d bring along a ripe banana to turn it all into a gigantic banana split with whipped cream topping and nuts. In my entire life I can’t think of anything as exciting as being let loose in the soda fountain. This is probably where my fantasies about heaven come from.

Softserve ice cream was invented when I was a teenager, but it was viewed with disdain in our dairy-oriented culture. It might have actually been banned in Wisconsin. It was definitely the case that margarine was illegal in our sister state. As a consequence, some enterprising soul opened up a Margarine Store at the foot of the Interstate Bridge in Menominee so migrants from Wisconsin could cross the bridge and buy the forbidden substance. Even in Michigan the margarine was legally required to be white rather than yellow to avoid any suggestion it might be equivalent to butter. There were no softserve stores in Marinette. Our local Menominee softserve shop was on Ogden Avenue, five or six blocks down the street from the Interstate Bridge. It’s still there, some sixty years later. As a teenager I’d ride in from river house on my bicycle, looking to see if there were any girls to talk to on Ogden Ave. and wind up buying a softserve cone. On the way back home I’d have to pass Riverside Cemetery on a moonlit night, and I’d pedal as fast as I could. I still can visually recall the terrifying scene.

In college Katja asked me to teach her how to drive. I tried riding with her once as her teacher, but I couldn’t stand it emotionally. Instead I gave her the keys to my car with its automatic transmission, and she drove by herself four blocks straight down Yellow Springs Avenue to the Dairy Queen stand. She’d enjoy a cone, then make a U-turn and drive four blocks straight back. After weeks of solo practice sessions she’d become a reasonably proficient, self-taught driver, at least as long as it involved going in a straight line down the street to the Dairy Queen. She waited to get her driver’s license in Menominee because they didn’t ask you to parallel park and, as the prosecuting attorney’s daughter-in-law, she count count on being treated with kid gloves by the police.

After we got married and moved to Ann Arbor, we’d always have a half gallon of ice cream in our refrigerator freezer. Once in a while, I’d eat the entire half gallon in a single sitting. One year I went in for my annual physical exam, and my doctor asked me about putting on weight. He wondered if I were eating a lot of sweets. I told him no, I never ate any sweets at all. After a short pause, I mentioned that I normally eat half a pint of ice cream for dessert each day. The doctor looked at me incredulously. He asked if I didn’t consider ice cream a sweet. I said no, that ice cream was a dairy product. It’s just about the healthiest thing you can eat for your bones and your teeth. The doctor shook his head. He didn’t realize that that’s what you learn when you grow up right next door to Wisconsin.

Love,

Dave

P.S. I assume that the title of this posting is self-explanatory. Just in case, it refers to the first two lines of a poem that we used to chant in unison as children:

I scream,

You scream,

We all scream

For Ice Cream!

The Costs of Dominance

2011-11-21T17:27:00.010-05:00

Mike (left ) and Duffy at the Clifton fountain

Dear George,

One can learn a lot from watching dogs interact with one another. Our sheepdogs, Mike and Duffy, have such different personalities, and that plays out in their every encounter. I used to think that all social behavior was learned, but, because of the dogs, I’m much more struck by the role of genetics. Katja bought Mike and Duffy when they were eight weeks old, and it seems to me that they’re pretty much the same way that they were in infancy. As puppies, Duffy was the alpha dog from the very start, pushing Mikey around with his aggressive behaviors. Mike has always been more gentle and laid back. Here are some of the concrete ways that the dogs differ in adulthood:

Duffy listens to a sound in the forest

What Duffy does more of:

Goes out the door first; comes back in first

Goes up and down the stairs first

Leads the way on the street

Pulls harder on the leash

Starts eating more quickly; finishes eating first

Pees first; poops first

Plays with (and thinks he owns) all the toys in the house

Chases and retrieves the thrown ball

Starts the barking at dogs passing outside the window

Acts more aggressively toward dogs on the street

Is wary of other dogs, avoidant, hyper-vigilant

Is more cautious toward strangers

Occasionally attacks Mike (over food, toys, excitement, etc.)

Is terrified of skateboards and firecrackers

Mike takes a rest break

What Mike does more of:

Submits to Duffy (usually)

Goes up to people on the street

Approaches other dogs

Plays more with their sister Sophie when Sophie visits

Licks little children on the face

Likes to wiggle through people’s legs

Lies on his back with his four paws in the air

Licks humans’ toes

Is calmer and more mellow in public

Various social psychologists have suggested that there are two major dimensions of human social relationships, (a) dominance-submission and (b) affection-hostility. These seem to apply to dogs too. Duffy clearly occupies the dominant position in our household’s two-dog pack; Mike, the submissive position. This is evident in just about everything. Toys are a salient example. Duffy considers just about all the toys in the house as his own, and Mike puts himself at risk of attack if he so much as approaches a toy on the floor. Duffy spends hours playing with his rubber kong, pushing it under a cabinet or a pile of clothes to present himself with a challenge. Mike lies passively and watches his brother play. Just recently Duffy has allowed Mike to have one toy of his own, a hard white ball with purple bumps in it. Mike takes it into the bed out of Duffy’s view, grasps it between his paws, and licks it with enthusiasm and apparent gratitude for his good fortune.

Duffy (left) and Mike at Mt. Storm park

On the affection dimension, Mike is unquestionably the friendlier of the two dogs. While both dogs act positively toward Katja and myself, Mike shows more friendly behaviors toward other human beings and other dogs, and consequently he receives more friendly responses in return. Duffy, by comparison, is wary of contact and more aloof. I think it’s likely that Duffy sees new contacts as a contest for domination and consequently finds them dangerous. So when strangers come up to pet the dogs, Mike readily moves toward them, while Duffy tends to move away and stand behind me. Usually I tell people that Mike is my friendly dog, Duffy is my shy dog, and it’s better to pet Mike than Duffy.

Duffy (left) and Mike on Ludlow Avenue

In these ways, then, the dogs live in two quite different worlds, both with their own sets of rewards and costs. Duffy enjoys various benefits of high status, e.g., ownership of valued objects, first priority in just about everything, exerting control and getting his way. But, at the same time, the world is a dangerous place for Duffy, since he has to establish his position through physical aggression and is consequently more likely to be the recipient of aggression. Particularly in the outside world, where adversaries are unknown and dominance relationships are yet to be established, Duffy is continually on guard and anxious. Because the world seems so hazardous, Duffy experiences a lot more tension. He’s probably a candidate to get an ulcer.

Duffy (foreground) and Mike on the creekbed at Mt. Airy Forest

It might seem, at first glance, that Mike loses out. He doesn’t get to play with the toys, he doesn’t get to retrieve the thrown ball, and he has to wait for his second turn at the water fountain. Basically, he has to submit to Duffy’s superiority in most areas of their daily lives. Mike, however, does receive a lot more social rewards. Because he’s prone to submission, he doesn’t elicit competition or hostility from others, and consequently he approaches other people and dogs (and is approached by them) with a more relaxed, unthreatening air. Thus, dominance proves to be a two-edged sword. In effect, Duffy gets the physical rewards, Mike gets the social rewards. Duffy also incurs a lot more overt costs by virtue of being leader of the pack. It would be nice if it were possible to be both dominant and to give and receive a lot of affection. But apparently the world doesn’t operate that way. I think that both Mike and Duffy enjoy pretty good lives. But they are markedly different.

Love,

Dave

Peter's Postcard Legacy: Part 1. Steven

2011-11-21T16:18:00.014-05:00

Steven in his backyard, Bellevue, WA

Dear George,

My brother Peter produced a major family photography project in the early 2000’s. He gathered together negatives of photos that our father Vic had taken in the 1940’s and 1950’s. Peter turned these into black and white and color postcards which he then mailed weekly to family members. Peter was an excellent photographer himself, and, after a while, he started including his own photos in his mailings. All in all, his postcard collection is a priceless family legacy. I’ve put a lot of Vic’s photos which Peter resurrected on this blog previously. Now I’m going to post some of Peter’s own photos. Many of these were of his three siblings and their spouses and kids. Here are some which are centered around our brother Steven (and assorted loved ones), taken by Peter mostly in the 1990s. With the tragic, painful losses of my brothers Steven and Peter in 2005 and 2006, these recorded memories take on a powerful, emotional significance.

Love,

Dave

Peter, Steve, Vicki

I think this picture epitomizes Steven. He was the most fun member of our family, and his warmth and energy spread to everybody around him (as you can see in my brother Peter’s and my sister Vicki’s reactions). Some years ago Pat J., the wife of Steve’s best friend in Menominee, said that her husband’s happiest times were when Steve came home and got together with him. I can attest to that – those were many of my happiest times too.

Steve with Doris, Bob P., and Vicki

Steve and his chums formed a prominent, occasionally rowdy in-group in their high school years, and he kept up these close ties throughout his life. Here he is with long-time friend Bob P., who became a local football coach, our mom Doris, and Vicki.

Steve and Margie at Cloud 9

Steve and Margie met when they were in college, fell in love immediately, and married soon after graduation. We all were thrilled. They were a perfect couple, good-looking, super dancers, full of spirit and good humor. In the late 19660’s they moved from Michigan to Seattle, where Margie specialized in teaching English as a second language in elementary school, and Steve was a lawyer for a major law firm, handling environmental cases.

Margie with Jennifer and J

We started having family reunions at my parent’s home on the Menominee River in the late 1960’s, an annual tradition that bound Steve’s, Peter’s, Vicki’s, and my families together. Here’s Margie with her their first child, Jennifer, and our son J at river house in about 1972.

Vicki, Dave, Steve, and Katja on a night out in Costa Rica

Steve organized a family vacation outing to Costa Rica for his siblings and their spouses in the late 1990’s. It was our biggest family trip. Peter took this photo on one of our visits to a local nightclub. Spirits were running high.

Steven L., sports fisherman

Steve loved boating and fishing, going on regular weekend expeditions with friends to Puget Sound and even to Alaska. Peter took this photo when he and Steve vacationed together in Acapulco. At first we thought that Steve had landed this trophy swordfish, though Peter later admitted to a bit of trickery in the shot.

Steve, Jennifer, Win, Margie at home in Bellevue, WA

Steven was utterly proud of his three children, and he talked about their activities and accomplishments in every conversation. Jennifer, who has perhaps the best sense of humor in our family, grew up to be an award-winning art teacher. Here she is with her husband Win and her parents at the family home in Bellevue.

Greg and Steve

Here’s Steve and his firstborn son, Greg, at one of Greg’s art openings in Seattle. Greg is engaged in more ventures than just about anybody: active in Seattle’s arts culture, the founder of a glass cemetery monument company, the proprietor of two premiere Seattle nightspots, and most recently the new manager of our family property in Birch Creek, MI.

Jason and Hilary at their wedding

Steve and Margie’s younger son Jason has continued our family’s strong ties to nature by being a forester in the Olympia, WA, area (and has been known to hike through the mountains from Canada to Mexico). Jason and Hilary (also a forester) got married in 2002 in Hilary’s home town, Baker City, OR. Peter was there to take this photo.

Steve, K, J, and Gayle

Steve, always youthful in spirit, chummed around readily and smoothly with the younger generation. Here he is with our son and daughter-in-law, J and K, and Peter’s wife, Gayle.

Peter, Steve, Margie (more good times)

Peter was four years younger than Steve, and he greatly admired and emulated his older brother as a kid. They were best of friends as adults. I think this picture was probably taken in Seattle on one of Peter’s visits there. Looking at it, I’m reminded how much I’d like to be with my brothers again.

G-mail Comments

-Phyllis S-S (11-25): Dave, What terrific brothers you were and what lovely memories. We’re still stuffed from Thanksgiving. Phyllis

-Jennifer M (11-24): I’m glad you have these photos to remind you of the good times you had with your brothers. I hope your trip to NOLA is creating good memories, with good photos, of your time with the youngest of your family.

Late Night/Dark Self

2011-11-18T11:33:00.005-05:00

Dear George,

Sometimes I get a little too upbeat when writing blog items. I suppose I’m trying to be positive, but I’m not sure that’s my true nature. When I was a college sophomore, I read a lot of Kerouac and Allen Ginsberg and fancied myself a member of the Beat Generation. I spent most of my spare time dwelling on the meaninglessness of life. It was depressing, but it seemed like one should accept reality. Then I went to grad school, got distracted, and simply forgot for a long time that life has no meaning. For some reason, life seemed to have gotten plenty of meaning, even if it really didn’t. Recently, though, I’ve found myself staying up late at night, trying to recapture some of those tortured adolescent feelings. Late night is good for that. It’s dark, silent, a little scary. Katja and the dogs sleep soundly, there’s rarely any traffic outside the window, and one is alone with oneself. As you get tired, your mind starts wandering, your daytime defenses fade, and you’re more in touch with your angst-ridden self. In an effort to get in closer touch with my dark side, I’ve been writing late night poems in free verse. Here are a few.

Love,

Dave

Almost Wednesday

Tuesday’s almost gone

We’ll never see it again

Watch the pale moon rise,

Forget the dismal past,

Wednesday might be better

Or, more probably, even worse.

Distant Voice

I can barely make out my mother’s call

From far across the field.

She speaks in an ancient dialect.

I cover my eyes and ears

Blocking out the sounds.

I can’t bear the thought

Of returning to my beginning.

Cleaning House

They told me to throw my stuff away

I threw out the alarm clock and the scissors

But they wanted more

Two pairs of socks, a deck of cards, a broken pencil

They wanted my heart and soul

So I threw them out too.

Innocence Unspoiled

Yesterday I saw a butterfly

Resting on a daffodil

Fluttering its yellow black wings.

Truly a creature of beauty,

But what does it know of anxiety or guilt?

Pasta Regrets

Three days I went to the store

Searching for Sally, but she never arrived.

I bought cheap macaroni instead

I boiled it so long, it tasted of rot

If only Sally had been there.

Sad Morning Sight

Seduced by a whiff of cheddar cheese,

A small mouse lay impaled in the trap.

Frozen legs, stiff tail, vacant eyes.

One minor mistake can last for eternity.

Futile Quest

I tried to hop on one leg

For three hours, maybe four

Around the edge of Dunlap Square

The adults ignored me

But two young boys started hopping too

Near the end my leg buckled

They carted me away

And locked me in a windowless room.

I never saw Dunlap Square again.

Thirst

I went last night to the well,

And drew a pail of icy water.

Inside was a disembodied head.

Eye sockets empty, mouth hanging open

Yellowed teeth

Disgust and shock, I threw it back.

But then I drank the water.

Inner Noise

Sometimes when I get distracted

I look inside my mind

To find some clue of the world’s condition

Last night I saw three dogs barking at a toadstool

It’s so confusing, in there in my mind

Too many men and women, so much talk

You can barely hear your own voice

I struggle for clarity

But then I give up and hide in the cellar.

Too Clever a Cat

I saw this bird standing on my lawn

A cat saw it too, though the bird seemed not to notice

The cat crept up, slow, slow, slower

The bird stood transfixed

Suddenly the cat pounced

Whoosh, the bird swallowed the cat.

Cats shouldn’t be so relaxed about vultures.

G-mail Comments

-Jennifer M (11-20): I like the poems. And the images. Here’s my thought for you: After our walk today, I raked leaves while Rosie killed a snake.

-DCL to Jennifer (11-22): Raking and Rosie would be a good topic for a poem…

-Vicki L (11-18): Hi David, Your creative self is certainly having a field day. Despite your 'embracing the Shadow' in many of these poems, I find them filled with the bittersweet richness of living. I'm happy for you. I particularly liked: Distant Voice, Innocence Unspoiled (I'm frequently angry with butterfies; also squirrels); Sad Morning Sight (this sentiment, I believe, was inherited from your father); Inner Noise (I keep trying to convey this experience to my therapist but I don't get far:) Too Clever A Cat (Very engaging, paradoxical and mysterious. Upside: life is full of the unexpected; downside: be ever vigilant - the world is unpredictably dangerous? Or perhaps: usual victims can be predators or defend themselves; usual predators might bite the dust.) Thanks for your prolific contributions - so great. I spent much of the afternoon interviewing some strange dude about Medicare options. Perhaps I should write a poem about that? Much love, Vicki