The Hicks Place

My Pulitzer Progress

The Pulitzer Prize winning books of fiction are listed by year below. The works I have read thus far are indented.  I set a goal of reading all of them a couple of years ago, and have been working my way through the list, trying to find the ones that seemed to interest me most in used book stores, or by putting the titles in my Amazon wish list.   Some, like A Death in the Family, To Kill a Mockingbird, Tales of the South Pacific and The Magnificent Ambersons I had read earlier.  I have traced my progress by listing books as I read them in the column at left, and if you look at that list you will note that other books which have piqued my interest pop up there from time to time. 

I have thoroughly enjoyed almost every one of these I have read, and post them not merely to boast but to encourage others to undertake this project.  Younger readers will likely not find the older books as interesting as I have, but maybe you will be surprised.  At any rate, I think I have a happier outlook on life since I stopped reading so much political commentary and biographies of great men, and began to invest my time in these award winning works of fiction.  I enjoy having these books on my book shelf or in my Kindle. 

The Pulitzer Prize winners for Fiction 

2009  Olive Kitteridge by Elizabeth Strout

        2008   The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao by Junot Díaz

2007  The Road by Cormac McCarthy  

         2006 March      by Geraldine Brooks

         2005 Gilead: A Novel by Marilyn

         2004 The Known World by Edward P. Jones

2003	Middlesex by Jeffrey Eugenides 
    2002	Empire Falls by Richard Russo 
    2001	The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay by Michael Chabon 
    2000	Interpreter of Maladies by Jhumpa Lahiri 
    1999	The Hours by Michael Cunningham 
1998	American Pastoral by Philip Roth 
1997	Martin Dressler: The Tale of an American Dreamer by Steven Millhauser 
    1996	Independence Day by Richard Ford 
    1995	The Stone Diaries by Carol Shields 
    1994	The Shipping News by E. Annie Proulx 
    1993	A Good Scent from a Strange Mountain by Robert Olen Butler 
    1992	A Thousand Acres by Jane Smiley 
    1991	Rabbit At Rest by John Updike 
    1990	The Mambo Kings Play Songs of Love by Oscar Hijuelos 
    1989	Breathing Lessons by Anne Tyler 
1988	Beloved by Toni Morrison 
    1987	A Summons to Memphis by Peter Taylor 
1986	Lonesome Dove by Larry McMurtry 
    1985	Foreign Affairs by Alison Lurie 
1984	Ironweed by William Kennedy 
1983	The Color Purple by Alice Walker 
    1982	Rabbit Is Rich by John Updike
    1981	A Confederacy of Dunces by the late John Kennedy Toole 
1980	The Executioner's Song by Norman Mailer 
1979	The Stories of John Cheever by John Cheever 
1978	Elbow Room by James Alan McPherson 
1977	(No Award)
    1976	Humboldt's Gift by Saul Bellow 
    1975	The Killer Angels by Michael Shaara 
1974	(No Award)
    1973	The Optimist's Daughter by Eudora Welty 
    1972	Angle of Repose by Wallace Stegner 
1971	(No Award)
1970	Collected Stories by Jean Stafford 
    1969	House Made of Dawn by N. Scott Momaday 
    1968	The Confessions of Nat Turner by William Styron 
1967	The Fixer by Bernard Malamud 
    1966	Collected Stories by Katherine Anne Porter 
1965	The Keepers Of The House by Shirley Ann Grau 
1964	(No Award)
    1963	The Reivers by William Faulkner
1962	The Edge of Sadness by Edwin O'Connor 
    1961	To Kill A Mockingbird by Harper Lee 
1960	Advise and Consent by Allen Drury 
1959	The Travels of Jaimie McPheeters by Robert Lewis Taylor 
    1958	A Death In The Family by James Agee 
1957	(No Award)
1956	Andersonville by MacKinlay Kantor 
1955	A Fable by William Faulkner
1954	(No Award)
1953	The Old Man and the Sea by Ernest Hemingway
1952	The Caine Mutiny by Herman Wouk 
1951	The Town by Conrad Richter 
1950	The Way West by A. B. Guthrie, Jr. 
1949	Guard of Honor by James Gould Cozzens 
    1948	Tales of the South Pacific by James A. Michener 

(From 1917-1948, the award was the Pulitzer Prize for Novel)
    1947	All the King's Men by Robert Penn Warren 
1946 (No Award)
1945	A Bell for Adano by John Hersey 
1944	Journey in the Dark by Martin Flavin 
1943	Dragon's Teeth by Upton Sinclair 
1942	In This Our Life by Ellen Glasgow 
1941	(No Award)
    1940	The Grapes of Wrath by John Steinbeck
1939	The Yearling by Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings 
    1938	The Late George Apley by John Phillips Marquand 
1937	Gone With the Wind by Margaret Mitchell 
    1936	Honey in the Horn by Harold L. Davis 
    1935	Now in November by Josephine Winslow Johnson 
1934	Lamb in His Bosom by Caroline Miller 
1933	The Store by T. S. Stribling 
1932	The Good Earth by Pearl S. Buck
1931	Years of Grace by Margaret Ayer Barnes 
1930	Laughing Boy by Oliver Lafarge 
1929	Scarlet Sister Mary by Julia Peterkin 
1928	The Bridge of San Luis Rey by Thornton Wilder 
1927	Early Autumn by Louis Bromfield 
1926	Arrowsmith by Sinclair Lewis
1925	So Big by Edna Ferber 
1924	The Able McLaughlins by Margaret Wilson 
    1923	One of Ours by Willa Cather 
1922	Alice Adams by Booth Tarkington 
1921	The Age of Innocence by Edith Wharton 
1920	(No Award)
    1919	The Magnificent Ambersons by Booth Tarkington 
1918	His Family by Ernest Poole 
1917 (No Award)

Lost Friends

 I really don't have any, close ones that is.  Not like some guys do.  I had the usual playmates in grade school and guys I hung around with in high school and my freshman year in college, but none of them really became lifelong friends.  I envy some people I know who form a bond with one or more persons and remain closer to them even than family members.  They have shared experiences to recall, both happy and sad, but mostly to laugh and joke about when they get together.  I've met and worked with hundreds of people, but only a handful would call me a friend and I don't think any of them would say I am their best friend.  I'm sure it is more my fault than theirs, I just do not have the personality to open up to them.  I am like the guy in the movie, "I Love You Man!".   Luckily though, my wife Marcia is truly my best friend. 

I have been losing friends whom I miss and now wish I had been closer to.  Herb at 76 in January.  We became friends about 15 years ago because his wife, Lynn, worked with Marcia.  We shared an interest in IU sports, especially enjoying trips to home football games on their motor home.  Herb was a gregarious person, lived in Indianapolis all of his life and knew a lot of people.  He had lunch about every day at the University Club and was always inviting me to join him.  I went a few times, but not as often as I could have.  Now the opportunity is gone.

Myra at 93 in June.  She worked in the office where I did for several years back in the '60's.  She was usually cheerful and saw the humor in most situations.  I went through a divorce which was mostly my fault, and she happened to be about the only person I could share my hurt and troubles with.  Once I was sick with a bad cold, living alone in a little efficiency apartment, and she brought me home-made soup.  Her sons were both having marital problems, and she shared with me her hurt and disappointment.  We talked on the phone and exchanged Christmas cards over the years, updating each other on our lives.  After her husband died and she went into a nursing home, I visited her there a few times.  She was lonely because her family all lived out of town and seldom could visit her.

Last week, Steve died at 74.  He was a long time friend of Herb, and that is how we met.  I liked Steve from the start.  Like many of Herb's friends, we didn't share many political views, but he was a man who respected your ideas, even if he didn't agree with them.  Steve's health was fragile from the time I met him, but he was busy at his work in labor law and arbitration until his final few months.  We shared some social events over the years; he and Sandy were here at our house for a cookout once with Herb and Lynn, and we had dinner with them on a few other occasions.  During one of our times together we learned that we both would have liked to have had a teardrop trailer, and Steve even talked about how we could build one although even at that time he was on oxygen.  Recently I was able to drive Steve to a few radiation treatments, and we followed some of those with lunch and a glass of wine.  We  shared a love of train travel and other interests besides teardrop trailers.  I will be removing the Teardrop list in the left margin of this blog in a few days, its reason for being there is now past.  

We have seating for five people on the front patio where I sit on pleasant evenings, enjoying the sunlight filtering through the trees and a martini.  Marcia often joins me with a glass of wine.  As I have noted before, that is the time of day I enjoy most, letting my thoughts wander.  Often neighbors join us and people passing by walking dogs or babies in strollers wave and greet us.  But what would really make the evening perfect would be to have Herb and Myra and Steve sitting there in the other three seats.  We would share a toast and then have a leisurely conversation about our lives, our dreams, our families, our friends, our hopes and disappointments.  There would be laughter and maybe tears, but there would certainly be friendship and love.  Oh, for the opportunity!

Infinity

Infinity is beyond the comprehension of the human mind.  I was a math major in college and we used the term often in calculus, but humans just cannot really comprehend that anything can go on and on and never end.  It is common knowledge that I enjoy a quiet time near the close of the day, the sun falling toward the horizon in the west, when I have a liquid refreshment in my hand and can contemplate life's mysteries.  On one such recent evening I was looking up through the trees watching puffy white clouds drifting in the light blue sky, and my mind began to think about how the space I was looking into is endless.  I have no astrological knowledge.  I can find the big dipper and the north star, and I believe I know Venus when I see it in the western sky just after sunset, but other than the milky way, that is the extent of my knowledge of the universe.   One cannot even refer to the Universe without implying something with boundaries.

Anyway, as I sat there the magnitude of it all, the light years through which we small humans have been able to search into space, finding no evidence of human life elsewhere than our own small earth overwhelmed me.  When or will the sun finally burn out?  If there is no end to space then why does there have to be a beginning or end to time?  We think in finite terms, we cannot grasp the idea of anything that has no point of origin or conclusion.  However, I do believe that, whatever may happen to life on planet earth, there will be no end to our Universe. 

Today was a day that reminds us of just how finite our power is against the forces of the space we occupy.  It was almost dark at times with rain and lightning and thunder!  We had periods of strong wind and areas of from 3 to 6 inches of rain were wide spread.  We and the cats were anxious for much of the day.  It seems we are having unusual and extreme weather conditions which may be due to global warming.  Yet I remember a day in my childhood on the Hicks place, not unlike today, when it seemed the storm would never end and we watched as normally small Haw Creek, which ran through the pasture across the road between our house and Johnny Dean's place, began to rise.  Soon it became a lake, filling the whole pasture and flooding the Wheaton road.  The floods of 1913 and 1923 of course were before my time and I was too young to remember the one in 1937, but I do remember that flooding in 1943. 

We are privileged to be for a while in this infinite world.  We adapt to the conditions which the universe presents to us.  We build shelters and vast structures which please us for many different reasons, we do have an appreciation for the beauty around us which we did not create. But our time here is finite and the things we do and build are finite.   The world we know however has no boundaries, it was here when we came and will be here long after we leave, and its infinite space and power is infinitely beyond our ability to control or comprehend.

Crime, Drugs and Automobiles

Well, it is Saturday evening, time to listen to Garrison Keillor and have a martini.  I've been reading "Rabbit at Rest" and must admit I can relate to Rabbit although he was only 56 and had had a life threatening heart attack.  The more I read the more I admire Updike's writing and his insight into man, religion, politics, and current events.  Here we are 20 years later, the US auto industry is struggling to survive competition with the Japanese, drugs are largely the cause of crime in our society, and Updike saw it all coming.  Maybe not so much saw it coming but could relate the impact it had and has on our lives.  His insights are still timely.

We had a great time in Maui.  The road to Hana was the highlight of our trip.  We had a great guide, but the landscape is the spectacular attraction.  Lindbergh of course is buried there, standing up in his grave.  His opposition to our going to war with Hitler made it impossible for FDR to get us into the war until Pearl Harbor.  Sunset in Maui while we were there was about 7:10 and it got dark surprisingly quickly after that.  Hawaii does not observe daylight saving time.  Interestingly, Updike mentions in "Rabbit at Rest" that twilight is much shorter in Spring and Summer in Florida than in Pennsylvania, because of the latitude, and of course the same comparison can be made between Hawaii and Indiana. 

I read this week that the medical, health care and health insurance industries are spending $1 million a day on lobbyists in Washington.  That tells me that it will be a miracle if we get any health care reform legislation that will do you or me much good.  The chances of getting a single-payer health care plan, which I think we need, are slim to none.  It is obscene that so much is spent on influencing legislation and on getting people elected, instead of that money going to improve the care and well being of the poor and needy.  It takes millions of dollars to conduct a successful campaign for election as a representative in Congress, a job that pays about $175,000 a year.  It is no wonder that the typical citizen has lost respect and confidence in our government. 

GM has now emerged from bankruptcy.  The only way they, Ford and Chrysler can succeed is if they start building vehicles that are people friendly.  Domestic sedans are so low and hard to get in and out of that it is a wonder they sell any of them.  In my job as a volunteer for the Red Cross, driving people in need to and from medical appointments, I see everyday how difficult it is for them to get in and out of the Ford Taurus vehicles we use.  You have to stoop down to get into them and then climb out of them!  Detroit needs to apply ergonomics to the cars they expect us to buy.

O.K.  I guess that is enough of my viewpoint for today.  It's July, enjoy the summer, and keep hoping that things will improve the rest of the year.

High Above the Pacific En-route to Maui.

Friday, June 19, 2009

I was just handed a warm towel for my hands after having been served a warm small cup of nuts with the beverage of my choice, seated in the last row of the first class section of United Airlines flight 89 from LAX to Maui.  For some unknown reason we were upgraded from economy to first class, which we certainly deserve after last night’s traumatic experience, but that was the fault of Frontier Airlines and United had nothing to do with it.

Yesterday we flew out of Indianapolis just after 4 pm on Frontier flight 406 to LA with a stop in Denver.  We decided to pay to check Marcia’s larger bag but I carried on my duffle bag and this computer.  All but only a half dozen passengers including us got off in Denver.  From Indy to Denver we were seated in front of a family whose small child screamingly cried for the first 15 minutes of the flight and then periodically kicked the back of Marcia’s seat.  It was a much quieter crowd from Denver to LA.  Of course the only complimentary service was a small plastic glass of a soft drink or water.  The cabin crew remarked as we landed both in Denver and LA that we were in fact 15 minutes early, as if they deserved some special recognition for that.  We patiently waited at carousel A for Marcia’s bag until all but a couple of the other passengers had left and then realized that for some reason her bag had not made it.  How can that happen on a flight with no plane change?  As we used to say about some inept friend, apparently Frontier could “screw up a one car funeral”. 

Here we were at nearly 8pm, ready to go to our hotel near LAX for dinner and a short night of sleep before boarding this plane which was scheduled to depart LAX at 10:47 this morning, and Frontier had no idea where Marcia’s bag was.  They could only offer that another flight from Denver was scheduled to arrive about 10:30pm and perhaps the bag would show up.  The attendant kept suggesting that maybe our connection hadn’t allowed time for the bag to be transferred and seemed never to comprehend that there wasn’t any connection.  She filled out the missing bag report, gave us little kits with toothpaste, toothbrush, shampoo, disposal razor, etc. And assured us that the bag would be delivered to our hotel if it arrived and that they would keep us posted via our cell phones. 

(I had to interrupt this writing to eat the kind of lunch that you used to get on airlines.  A small salad, dinner roll, tortellini, sponge cake with lemon icing, a cookie and red wine in a real wine glass.  This served on top of a white cloth on my seat tray, while the movie is showing.)

So we caught the shuttle to the hotel and had dinner in the bar.  At least the food was good for hotel food.  Back in the room I took my usual nighttime pills including the one that helps me sleep 8 hours, brushed my teeth with the flimsy toothbrush and nasty toothpaste from China, and went to bed.  I woke up at midnight to go to the bathroom, Marcia was reading and there had been no news from Frontier.  We called the hotel bellman, then Marcia called Frontier and finally got a person to talk to in LA.  I was beside myself, well not actually but, rather, beside Marcia asking in a very loud voice as she was talking, “What are we supposed to do?  We are to fly to Hawaii in the morning, that’s this morning, June 19th!”  I just had to go into the bathroom and shut the door until the conversation was over, and then went to bed but couldn’t sleep until my blood pressure finally went down a half hour later. 

This morning I learned that Marcia had been told a flight was due in from Denver at 8:30, but that no one had responded to our lost bag report so Frontier still didn’t know where it was.  Our only recourse was to go to the airport, check in at United and then go to the Frontier lost baggage office to see if Marcia’s bag had been found.  Thankfully, United and Frontier are located next to each other at LAX, though in separate buildings.  So we arrived via shuttle at the airport just after 8:30, went to United and showed them that we had done on-line check in, but for some reason we never understood their web site wouldn’t let us get seat assignments.  Told we could go to the gate and seats would be assigned there, we rushed over to Frontier and thank God there sat Marcia’s bag, having just arrived from Denver.  Why or how it was taken off of the plan and left in Denver yesterday we will never know.

So we went back to United, Marcia checked her bag there because I had already paid for it, and then through security to the gate.  Announcements were being made that the gate attendants were working on seat assignments, trying to put families together and that they would call our names when seat assignments were available.  We had an hour before takeoff, but seating was limited in the waiting area and families with children and everyone were just milling around not quite sure what the process was.  Names began to be called, but not ours and I of course was getting antsy.  At the next gate they had already asked for volunteers because that flight had been overbooked.  I could just imagine us getting stuck at LAX because of that.  Finally after many people had already started boarding, our name was called and when Marcia came back with the boarding passes we saw that we were in row 6, seats C and D, in first cabin.  We still weren’t sure of our good fortune until we boarded the plane.  Thank you, United, you made our day.

So, here we are, well feed and liquored, Marcia dosing off because apparently she’s not that much into the movie, (I think its “He’s just not that into you”), and I am settled down except for the fact that Marcia told me there was a message on our home phone last night that the son of a 92 year old friend of mine had called to say his mother had died.  Myra was a nice lady, we had met when we both worked for Honeywell back in the ’60’s, who sort of took me under her wing after my first divorce and even made soup for me one time when I was sick and living alone in a studio apartment.  I have visited her a few times since she went to a nursing home after her husband died.  The last time I saw her she talked about how she would like to go out for Chinese food, and I promised her we would do that.  But, as too often happens, things kept coming up and I never got around to keeping my promise.  I thought about her just last week, remembering that she wanted Chinese.  She had seemed still strong when I saw her last just before Mother’s day, and her mind was still good, especially about older memories.  I hope she died in peace and without suffering.

The end of a perfect day.

Now at 9:30 pm. it is 74 degrees and 15 minutes ago I could still read a newspaper outside on the patio.  If only every day were like this one, sunny, low humidity, warm enough to be comfortable in a T-shirt but still not sweat.  As I drank the last of Paul's Tullamore Dew Irish Whiskey left over from the Indy 500 Race Weekend, I wondered how many more of these beautiful evenings will God give me? 

Two weeks ago tonight we had our usual group of friends here for the Indy 500 festivities, and we had just finished Dean's wonderful Ossobuco dinner and were enjoying his strawberry tart dessert.  A week ago we were at the Breakers in Palm Beach enjoying the "get acquainted" cocktail and hors d'oeuvres event, with a view of the Atlantic from our table, before Susan and Scott's wedding the next evening.  It has been an exciting and enjoyable two weeks with a lot going on, but I must confess I also enjoy the quiet time, just before sunset, sitting on my patio.  Sounds seem sort of muffled then, only a few birds are still chirping and even they disappear into a nearby tree and settle in for the night.  On our street some neighbors are still out walking their dogs or small children, and down the street, one by one, porch lights come on as the patches of sunlight fade high up on the sides of houses. 

Sixty five years ago today I had completed the third grade, we were living on the Hick's Place, and it was D'day.  I could not have imagined, as few others could have, all of the events and advancements in technology that would effect our lives between then and now.  We can't look forward very far, our time here is minuscule in the grand scheme of things.  I think that may have something to do with our increased interest in genealogy as we grow older.  Looking back we can somehow extend our life experiences by finding out about the lives of those from whom we descended.  I am able to trace back my relatives for 5 generations on both my father's and mother's side; my great, great, great, grandfather's both came to Indiana about 1820 and were born in the 18th century.  They are buried within 50 miles of each other in west-central Indiana, as are most of their descendants.  But they were born, one in Delaware and the other in Virginia.  If only I could hear them tell of the experiences of their youth and the hardships they overcame in traveling from their places of birth to establish new homes here on what was then the western frontier. 

So, I can look back and envision the last 200 years during which my relatives lived.  I have experienced over 70 years of that time myself.  But I cannot imagine, my mind cannot possibly comprehend what the next 70 years will bring, let alone the next two centuries.  One of these days I will come to the end of the road, in fact of course I turned onto that street marked "no through street" the day I was born.  So I marvel at the places I've been privileged to visit here on our small planet in this infinite universe, the beauty of the sights, sounds, and people all around me.  It could have ended long ago.  It did for many not much older than me 65 years ago.      

My Story

Night before last I was young and with a pretty blonde girl.  We had been together, but perhaps in a group of college or high school friends, and she was saying goodbye.  The last thing I remember is she was smiling and  I think trying to tell me that this was more than just I’ll see you later.  But I was happy and she was smiling and I  told whomever it was with me that she liked me and I really liked her, and we would be together again.  But of course we never were. 

As I was going to the bathroom my leg was hurting and so I ran my right hand along the dresser top and kept my left on the footboard rail.  The stiffness lessened slightly with each step until I got to the little step, up to the toilet, and then I really felt the pain in my right knee.  It almost felt, across the middle of my knee cap, like it would give away.  As I sat there I rubbed my hand along the muscle and it felt cold and tight, what little feeling there was because the nerves were not connecting normally.  There was a lack of feeling.  When I got to bed and lay on my left side with the hurt knee on the bed in front of me; a sharp pain and the ache was worse.  I got up and went back to the medicine cabinet for two Tylenol. 

Day before yesterday I was cutting the grass.  It was 6 to 8 inches tall, due to the spring rains and our being away in Roanoke for a dozen days.  In fact it was raining when we got off the train at 4:30 that morning and was still raining when I picked up the mail just before noontime.  But the wind was blowing and the sun came out and by 3, they were qualifying at the track.  An hour later I decided it was dry enough to cut the grass.  I had to go slow, even with the mower set as high as it would go, but had no trouble and was finished in an hour.  I put the mower in the garage and was coming up the walk when something happened in my right knee, it felt like it was going out from under me but it didn’t, but I hurt and was limping then as I came into the house.  I took two Tylenol, fixed my evening martini, put on a light jacket and went out on the front patio to enjoy the late evening sun.

As we drove out of the driveway yesterday morning, on the way to our usual Sunday morning breakfast, Andy our young neighbor was standing at the gate likely getting ready to take his morning run.  He was saying something to his wife who was sitting on their back porch.  Marcia exclaimed, “She is wearing glasses!”  We had never seen her in glasses before.  I smiled to myself and a saying from my youth popped into my head, so as we turned out into the street I said, “Guys don’t make passes at girls who wear glasses.”  With that, she, my wife, was mad.  “Why are you upset?”  “I wear glasses!”  “So?, I was just saying a phrase I heard in my youth, it had nothing to do with you.”  “But it means that women who wear glasses are ugly.”  “Well, but that isn’t what I meant, Krista isn’t ugly.”  (We have often commented to each other about how handsome and pretty our young neighbors are.)  That comment didn’t help, so it took me at least ten blocks to convince her that it was just a random thought like my strange brain often comes up with and it didn’t represent how I felt about her, my wife.

Yesterday evening we went to a Chinese restaurant, she likes Chinese.

It turned cool Saturday evening and last night the temperature got down to about 40.  At first I was with some people and there was snow on the ground and we were walking around a semi-trailer.  Then we were in a small tent which had a stove and a rug on the floor and it seemed to be home to someone.  As we walked out of that tent we were in a huge tent which had lots of people walking around and there were groupings of furniture where you could sit ant talk, it seemed like a hotel lobby and apparently there were several of these small tents attached to it.  I got up to go to the bathroom again, still hobbling on my knee.  When I came back, I pulled the bedspread up for more warmth and went back to sleep.

 

Rejuvenated

This has been an unusually refreshing and rejuvenating day for me.  Beside the fact that May is here and we finally got some sunshine after several days of rain, the events of the day have lifted my spirit and renewed my hope for the future.  Even while suffering from a shooting pain below my right shoulder blade which strikes me at unexpected times, I find myself thankful for having come in contact with people whom I consider privileged to know and call friends.  Sure, part of it may be the martinis speaking, but it goes deeper than that.

A very close friend of our son Mike lost his father a few days ago.  Today, we attended a memorial service for Abs' dad.  It was not a typical funeral, at least from my experience, but it seemed such an appropriate occasion to me.  I never really knew the deceased, but after having heard his two sons, their mother, and several close friends recall their special times with him, I came away with the feeling that he was a guy I wish I would have known.  A man who loved books, who would take the opposing side in most discussions just for the sake of argument, who liked to party and saw the subtle absurdities of situations, a thinker. 

No minister spoke about the deceased, his devotion to family, community or church.  But first his eldest and then youngest sons shared their experiences, memories, and thoughts about their dad.  As most dads are, he was obviously so influential in their lives, but they were able to talk about their father in ways that I could never have spoken about my dad.  I'm sure it wasn't easy for them, but it was obvious that they are "chips off of the old block" and their love for their dad compelled them to convey in some way the fact that they were privileged to be his sons.  Several friends of the deceased then rose to relate their fond memories of special occasions, so at the end I felt that this man had had a significant and positive influence on the lives of all of those who knew him.  What more could one want to be remembered for. 

We live next door to an attractive young couple, 40 years my junior.  They have a young, 20 month old son who keeps us entertained when he plays in our shared driveway, on the sidewalk or in their yard.  These neighbors had a party tonight.  We were privileged to be included with their other guests who were mostly friends from their recent college days.  Their friends actually talked to us and seemed interested in what we had to say.  The fact that I supplied a few martinis for the party might have helped, but I don't think that was a deciding factor.  Maybe they were just being nice, but it certainly was a delight for me to have the opportunity to share an actual substantive conversation with nubile, handsome young people!  Granted, we didn't get into deep, philosophical or political conversations (on which we might not have agreed), but the topics were current, relevant, and not just fluff, and my take was that our country may actually survive after people my age are gone from the scene.  

Finally, the fact that I enjoyed myself today is a positive.  I was able to interact with other persons on this planet whom I respect and with whom I consider myself fortunate to have come in contact.  They enriched my life and pleased me.  Not that it is all about me, but whom else am I really qualified to speak for?

You Make Your Own Happiness

A few days ago I visited a 93 year old friend of mine in a nursing home.  Her 88 year old husband died a year ago last November.  She has had various health problems, some with her legs and she fell a few times at her house.  Her doctor put her in the home a year ago because she really wasn't able to take care of herself and there was no family or anyone nearby to look after her.

She was sitting on the side of her bed when I walked into her room, dressed in a blouse, slacks, a sweater with a sheep skin like collar, and sensible flat slippers, all in coordinated shades of green.  Her walker was within reach and she was reading some small pamphlet; the daily paper was piled at the foot of the bed, obviously read.  She looked up and smiled when she recognized me.  I gave her a hug and she said "Sit there", pointing to the recliner by her night stand, "or here".  I asked where she would like me to sit and she patted the bed beside her. 

We began to talk.  Usually our conversations kind of wonder around over past shared experiences or stories about our lives.  I noticed some new pictures on the wall and she went through them all, pointing out her children, grandchildren and a recently new great grandson.  One granddaughter is a doctor whom I had baby sat with while her parents went out for the evening, way back in the late '60's when I was divorced and living in a little apartment on the west side.  A calender her son had made and given her for Christmas hung over the bed.  He had put family pictures on it for each month.  It still was showing January, so I took it down and we looked through it.  There were pictures taken at her husbands wake on a few pages.

"I always thought I would die first", she said.  "It all seems a blur to me", as she pointed out herself sitting with various family members receiving condolences.  The funeral was over and she just didn't remember much about what went on.  Her granddaughter who lives in Evansville and nearer than any of her other relatives had visited her last fall and taken her out to the grave site.  I put the calender back up on the wall with April showing.

We talked about her sons, the oldest one lives in South Dakota and the other in Atlanta.  Her oldest had been a missionary in Africa when I first met her back in the early '60's.  She had visited him and his wife there, stayed about 21 days as she recalled in Liberia.  "Looks just like Florida with palm trees and all" she said with a little chuckle which is her habit.  Her daughter-in-law came back home with her she remembered.  Then she talked about how that woman had, she thought, been having an affair with the family doctor and later left her son to marry the doctor.  The doctor is now dead, but the former daughter-in-law who lives an hour away, "She always calls me mom", comes to family get togethers and was there for the wake and funeral. 

I have heard some of these stories over the years, about the sons and their family problems, the oldest remarried and has a second family, the other son finally divorced his wife, who always seemed to be on some kind of medication and probably would have died of a drug overdose at some point if it hadn't been for the care of her daughter who later became the doctor. 

But Myra told me a new story this time.  She and Gerald were married by a judge they knew at midnight in the town where she lived and he grew up.  She said Gerald wanted to get married, but she wasn't so sure.  She was four years his senior and he was only 19.  In fact, he had been her pupil in school, though he never graduated.  When she had been younger, her mother had a dream and always said Myra would get married on Friday.  It was a Friday night and they had been out on a date and Gerald said lets call the judge and get married.  Myra didn't think the judge would want to get out of bed and marry them, but he did and didn't seem to mind. 

Then she went on to tell about them coming to Indianapolis as newlyweds from Kentucky.  Her mother-in-law had told Gerald he could get a job in his brother's garage here, but when they got here there was no job.  It was 1939, but Gerald got a factory job and soon their oldest son was born.  Gerald was finally drafted, went into the Navy and to Norfolk, Virginia.  Myra wasn't working and had a small child to raise.  Gerald would send her letters from the ship he was on asking her to get him out, he didn't like it.  He said he hid out on the ship to keep from having to mop and clean.  She didn't remember who or what agencies she talked to but she did try, explaining their condition.  The war ended and Gerald came home. 

Gerald didn't like being bossed around.  Myra has told me about his independence.  He eventually started his own company and was last in the vinyl siding business.  We had him put the siding on our house back in the '80's.  That business allowed him to go off to Florida and play golf during the winter, leaving Myra at home.  One of the pictures on the calender showed the Masonic rites for Gerald at the funeral home.  Myra said he joined but she didn't remember him going to many meetings.  "If they had played poker, he would have been there every time" she said giving another little chuckle.

During our talk Myra said her sons had sold her house, so she guessed "this is going to be my home."  She said the food was good.  They had been entertained earlier that day by a fourth grade class from a nearby school.  The 4th graders are paired with residents at the home, and Myra had waved at her friend while the group was performing.  Occasionally Myra gets letters from some of the younger women she worked with over the years, but since her family is scattered, she seldom has visitors. She says she does get lonely and she guessed depressed at times.  But then she said, "I've learned that you make your own happiness, others don't do it for you." 

I met Myra when we both worked for the same company many years ago.  For some reason, one Spring day as I was going into the office I stopped and picked a dandelion, and I gave it to Myra as I walked by her desk.  She reminded me of that, and I guess that may have had something to do with our becoming friends.  I watched my mother die in a nursing home.  It is not easy to walk through those halls and see people in various stages of decline, waiting to die.  But I enjoyed my talk with Myra.  Maybe the hour I was there meant as much to her as it did to me.     

It Happens in Indiana

I'm not sure it made the national news, but two people recently died here in Indianapolis as the result of a sword fight.  A 39 year old man was visiting his 77 year old grandmother and her brother-in-law.  After several drinks some dispute occurred between the two men resulting in one of them brandishing a ceremonial sword, whereupon the other took up another sword which happened to be about and the two started to fight.  Trying to break up the fracas, the grandmother suffered a fatal injury.  The older man was stabbed and died several days later in the hospital. The grandson is now in prison charged with murder, but displayed a slash on his arm as he was being taken away to jail.  Police and the prosecutor are trying to sort out the details.  When was the last time a serious sword fight occurred in your town?

Sarah Palin fled some recent criticism in Alaska this last week to come to Indiana.  She spoke at a Right to Life banquet in Evansville attended by some 3,500 persons, reportedly the largest such event in the country.  She has been feuding with her State's democrats over whom she should appoint to fill a vacant democrat seat in the legislature.  Indiana conservatives gave her a warm welcome. 

Our own legislature, split with democrats in control of the House and Republicans holding the Senate, is having a hard time deciding anything.   They are however about to pass laws that would increase the age required to obtain a drivers license by 6 months to 16 and 1/2 years, and to make it illegal for teens under 18 to use a cell phone while driving.  Some States have already passed laws against cell phone use by teenage drivers, but how officers can determine whether a driver is 17, 18, or 19 is next to impossible and such laws go mostly unenforced.  In my own humble experience, it seems that hockey moms are equally guilty of talking on the phone while driving, and they are more likely to be behind the wheel of a big SUV which is a greater menace to those around them.  I agree with one of the legislators who said she favors a ban on cell phone use by drivers, but would vote against the law because it was hypocritical to single out just teenagers.  After all, kids are likely to do what their parents do.

A big local issue is how to pay for the annual operation and maintenance of our recently new professional sports facilities, Lucas Oil Stadium for the Colts and Conseco Fieldhouse for the Pacers.  After building these monsters with taxpayer money, it now turns out the teams can't afford to maintain and heat them, so who else is going to do it?  Furthermore, the cost can't all be paid out of ticket sales, so people who don't go to the games wind up bearing much of the cost.  I think the value of having a professional sports team in the city is much overstated.  Of course, this is a common problem in cities with a major league team, but that doesn't mean that that is the way it should be. 

Finally, the Archbishop of Indianapolis wrote a "scathing" letter to the University of Notre Dame objecting to the school's invitation to President Obama to speak at its commencement and receive an honorary degree.  The Archbishop reportedly used such words as appalled, embarrassed, stunned and angered by the invitation because of the President's positions on abortion and use of embryonic stem-cells.   No one seems to remember the Archbishop writing a letter to GWB against the war in Iraq, or against capital punishment when George was the Governor of Texas.  And maybe this line of reasoning doesn't make much sense to you, but what about all of those babies that might have been born if celibacy were not required of Catholic priests?  (Abstinence is a form of birth control.)  I won't even mention another argument that might be made regarding Priests and celebacy.