tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-90259674232047109252024-03-05T19:13:35.387-08:00Dithering for amateursNot sure about the title. Maybe it works. Maybe not. I'm still thinking about it.(R)uffda!http://www.blogger.com/profile/03864414004459010046noreply@blogger.comBlogger31125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9025967423204710925.post-169538560884596982016-05-28T21:45:00.004-07:002016-05-28T21:45:39.643-07:00Greek Interim, January 1979 (Hamline U group led by Fred Leach), a rough draft of an unfinished recap<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Greece trip timeline
(in consultation with Gary and Sandy, not sure when):<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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16 Dec 1978 (I think)<o:p></o:p></div>
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<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Orientation or meet and greet at 1650 Hewitt
(the Leaches)</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Much discussion about toilet facilities, horror
stories for the impressionable among us</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Girls were warned that there might only be
“holes in the ground”; they groaned</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Maps spread out on the dining room table;
hotels, train stations, cafes, museums were pointed out; everyone crowded
around, trying to picture what we were in for</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">“Does everyone have their passport?” No. “You’re
running out of time, Jim. I suggest you do it tomorrow.” Jim looks unfazed.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Gary looms over everyone, even Ron. He looks
like a science major. A tall one. Gary, like me, is quiet, but he smiles
frequently. Two years later he tells me he was scared to death.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Also much talk about the cheap sweaters to be
purchased. (They will turn out to be more expensive than promised.) Sweater
fever is loose!</span></li>
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3 Jan 1979 <o:p></o:p></div>
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<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Cold morning, took a taxi (with my father, I
assume? car didn’t start)</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">MSP departure 11am CT</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">DC-10 with Connie and “Hawkeye.” Hawkeye has a </span><i style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Playgirl </i><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">with her—whatever happened to </span><i style="text-indent: -0.25in;">House and Garden</i><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">? I wonder. I can’t look
out the window, since it would look like I’m stealing a glance at the nude men.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Plane drops rapidly into CHI, which is felt in
the stomach</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Arrive CHI, and a 7-hour delay; meal vouchers
for $7; played cards and a magnificent Crazy 8s losing streak begins; Pat makes
a point of commenting “Well, unlucky at cards, what’s in store for you?” This
line of teasing never stops for the duration of the trip.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Went to some “ritzy” restaurant with Gary and
Pat (“ritzy” to me would have been something better than Burger King). When
we’re finished, I note, we’re still hungry.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Wandered through the airport into hotel next
door and a bar, with Jim, Gary, Pat, maybe Ron; Jim wants to go into the city</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Jim manages to annoy a salesperson in the bar.
The guy tells Jim that he “wishes John Gacey had met you.”</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">How much money did you bring? $200. $300. $500,
we say. Jim has brought $2000.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">I also note that Roxie scares the bejeebers out
of me. Makes me feel like I am 12.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Depart CHI, 747 with Deb Fox? and?</span></li>
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4 Jan 1979<o:p></o:p></div>
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<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Amsterdam (early afternoon, their time), briefly</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">City Hopper to Brussels (pro basketball player
on the plane)</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Everyone has a window seat</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Air Sabina flight to Athens (stewardess had the
longest neck I had ever seen) with Gary, playing cards; served lunch meats
which I describe as “near fatal.”</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">We fly over Athens at night with lights
stretching and flickering for miles. Like stars below us. No sign of the
Acropolis.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Roxie singing as we arrive</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Very warm in Athens – wonderfully warm! We step
off the plane on to stairs and take a shuttle to terminal</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Bags! For all except Sandy, Roxie, Lora, Cindy,
Karen? Terminal was all but deserted.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">A photo: The girls sit on the edge of the
baggage carousel in semi-mock dismay. It is actually probably very real. They
are the unlucky ones. The bagless.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Bus to the city is a “breathless” ride. Gary and
I sit near the back and we both cringe as the bus speeds through the narrow
streets. The scenery is obscured by the dark. Where are we? Buildings fly past.
Hills speed by. Were those ruins? Or our hotel? Look out for those cars! Why
are the streets so deserted? Why does it look so dream-like, so surreal?</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">The bus circles a square twice and finally stops
in the middle of a dark, narrow street. Cars begin to line up in front and
behind us, their drivers losing patience. Bags are hurried from the bowels of
the bus as horns sound. We enter the Hotel Apollon.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">They take our passports.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Gary, </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Ron
and I receive our room key; the elevator is needed by too many and looks a
little unsafe, so we take the stairs. Huge stone stairs, and we’re three
flights up. The hotel is quiet. Deserted?</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Door to room won’t open. Everyone tries, then Gary
breaks the key in the lock. Back down to the lobby where the desk clerk scowls
and gives us another key. A good start.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">The room does not come close to our nightmares.
Two beds and a cot. But it looks clean. There’s even a bathroom in the room, with
a shower!</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">There’s no hole in the ground!
This will be a breeze.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">We decide to go for a walk and meet </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Nan, Roxie and Sandy. The night clerk mutters
to himself as we exit and hit the streets. We walk down the block, turn right
up another block and find a bar. It is now very late. The bar is dark with
scattered tables, only a few customers. I nurse a glass of ouzo, which I know I
do not like, but know is better than retsina.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Here we are: halfway around the world and
halfway around the block. Amazing.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">We return to the hotel and shirts are lent to
Roxie and Sandy. Sandy gets my purple Minnesota t-shirt.</span></li>
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5 Jan 1979<o:p></o:p></div>
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<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Sandy wears my t-shirt to breakfast.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">We meet a group from Bethel at breakfast. Bad
news. They have been bagless for five days now.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Anemic breakfast (hard rolls and tea!), followed
by trip to bank in Omonia Square. We form a line behind my father and follow.
All roads lead to Omonia, we will find. All you need to do is remember how to
get from Omonia to the hotel. Vital information, we will discover.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">There are actually people in the city. Lots and
lots of people. The bank is under the square, near the subway stop. Underground
there are more shops, more tourist traps.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">The tellers look ready for the onslaught of
Americans looking to cash their travelers’ checks. Show us your sweaters!</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">The city has its own distinct smell. Soon
everything will smell like it. The food, your clothes, everything.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Cars flow into Omonia from every direction,
controlled, barely, by stoplights. When the lights turn green, the cars buzz
into the square, circle the fountain at its center and buzz out again, but in a
different direction. It seems as if one must always first turn in a circle
before one goes anywhere, in an automobile anyhow. On foot? Find Omonia Square
and then head off. It’s as if Omonia is the heart from which everything is
pumped.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Gary and I set out for a walk on our own, confident
we know our way back. All you have to do is pay attention to the route you take
and then reverse it. Right? The Acropolis beckons, sitting high above the city,
way off at the end of one of Omonia’s numerous arteries. But it will have to
wait. We’re not that ambitious yet and, more to the point, we are hungry. The
first thing we find, under a movie marquee, is a shop selling sweet rolls. But
what are they? Well, one must be daring. And what to drink? Nothing to be found
except Cokes. A sweet roll and a Coke? It will have to do.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Gary is a sight for the locals. A giant roaming
the streets. I fit in, height-wise anyhow.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">We pass through a covered block reserved for
butchers. Knives and other sharp instruments are brandished to our right and
left. The place is packed with people. Blood flows on the cement at our feet.
Whack! Hack! We flee. (That’s right. Our flee market.)</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Back on the street, we are disoriented by the
lunch and the carnage, as well as the city. Cars continue to honk. Especially
at pedestrians who dare to venture into the streets. Panic! Stay out of the
streets! Stay out of the Meat Market! Stay away from the sweet rolls!</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">It’s about this time we begin to long for the
security of our hotel; it is also about the time we begin to realize we don’t
really know how to find it. We know how to find Omonia, mind you; we just don’t
know which spoke to take from that hub. We pick one and try it. Wrong. A mile
later, we head back. We pick another. We spend our afternoon this way, looking
for our hotel (which we pass at least once).</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Ceramic cemetery in the afternoon, our first
official bed. Lots and lots of pots. Gary is in heaven. I am in a museum of
pots (and it’s been a long day). Outside is a little better. I wander around,
staying away from the roped off areas where digs (more pots! more potsherds!)
are in progress.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">I find a high point and sit and watch my tour
mates, blotches of color in the distance. I can now identify them by the color
of their clothes, as no one’s wardrobe is extensive, especially not the
bagless.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">More on pots: They come in many shapes and
sizes, with various patterns. One tries to keep one’s interest up, but even the
great variety cannot disguise the fact they are still pots. The thought that
they were being used over 2000 years ago is cool, no doubt. But. You know.
Pots. The fact that most of them, some even very large, have been painstakingly
pieced together from their scattered sherds is incredible. But. Pots. This will
be a trip full of pots. We will observe pots all over the length and breadth of
Greece. Pots. Pots. Pots.</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Dinner at the hotel (as will be the case every
night). There will always be a cabbage salad, with olive oil in abundance. It
is distasteful at first, it grows almost tolerable, probably due to the extreme
hunger I am feeling. But, eventually, it reestablishes itself as totally
inedible. Every meal will begin with the arrival of this dish, a consistently
bad start.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">The waiters distribute varying portions of later
courses. The distribution seems random, except for Roxie, whose plate will
always be full. Roxie will be a favorite everywhere.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">About once every four days they will serve
hamburgers and fries. The potatoes are delicious, the burgers frightening. It’s
a depressing meal, regardless. We are in Greece, after all.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Desert is fruit, usually an orange.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">One of the waiters, also a bartender upstairs,
spends a great deal of time barking, much to the amusement of the diners.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">That night, five of us -- Gary, Karen, Ron,
Sandy and I – headed out to the Acropolis. We had been there a whole day and
not done so, which bothered me. This was the main reason I wanted to go to
Greece, after all. We left after supper, knowing only the general direction.
But, hey, it’s always in view, right?</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">When our walk suddenly became a decidedly uphill
one, we knew we were on the right track. And then we were there!</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">The gates are closed. But it’s still impressive.
We gaze out over Athens from the ancient rock. We end up lying down on a stone
floor (of the Roman amphitheater?) and look up at the Parthenon and the stars.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">I believe we jumped around on the stones at the
base of the Acropolis. There was serious conversation, earnest. There was a lot
of time spent on a huge stone overlooking the city. It was a warm night. There
weren’t many other people. A long, lazy evening, like we had all of the time in
the world.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">I remember something about Sandy wishing the
lights were on – and then the Parthenon lit up. Did that happen?</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Taka-Taka (very late, into early AM) for
souflaki, but different than what we’ve had before. This is more like sausage
in pocket bread. The proprietor tries to teach Sandy how to use the worry beads
she has purchased. I believe we play cards.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">I am falling in love with this trip and with
this city.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">The hotel is very quiet. We climb the stone
steps and could just as well be the only people in the world. We need to get up
in five hours.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">At night, as one settles down to sleep, one
listens to the sounds of Athens. Noisy people shout from the street. Sometimes
there are what sounds like arguments. Sometimes there is rowdiness. Car horns
can be heard from in front of the hotel and in various volumes from far away in
the city. Garbage men arrive, banging cans as they work. One falls asleep to
these sounds and, eventually, they become – almost – soothing.</span></li>
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<ul>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">In the morning, one steps out into Athens and it
is cold and dark. The sun is too low to shine upon you; it is blocked by the
tall buildings. Later it will warm up. A little. And we will shed some layers.
But in the morning you never seem to have enough on.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Omonia subway station in the morning (I do not
recall traveling by subway, but apparently we did). I write that it is only
infrequently actually “sub,” that is, below ground.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">To Piraeus for Epiphany celebration. We walk
from the subway terminal to the sea, to a dock where several fair-sized ships
are moored. We have been told that at some point a man dives into the waters to
retrieve some object. This is what we all wait for, what we expect.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">It becomes more and more crowded as we wait for
this diver. Then people are lining both sides of a nearby street. Something was
obviously going to happen. It turns out to be a parade. Clergy, soldiers and
well-dressed citizens filed past. Gary was able to film it from his
advantageous height. I didn’t see much. There never was a diver.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">And just like that, it was over.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Many of us, baffled by what we had seen,
followed my father for lunch, it now being early afternoon. </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">On the way back to the subway terminal, Pat
flirted with a girl who was walking with her father. Pat bought her a rose at
one point. He found out she was something like 15.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Back to Athens, to a station near the Flea
Market.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Sometime during the day, Gary and I decided we
would go exploring again.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">We decided to visit the Olympic Stadium,
probably Gary’s idea.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Another photo, right to left: Nan, looking
solemn; Ron, slightly behind her, hat on head, smiling; Gary, stretching out,
leaning back on his elbow, grinning; Sandy, with a big smile; me, hands clasped
to my knees, a tight-lipped smile, best I can do. We all sit on a foam pad used
for jumpers. Roxie takes this photograph and the five Olympic rings (which we never
thought would turn out) shine behind us.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">We had to climb over a low gate to get in and
there was the suspicion that maybe we were trespassing. An element of danger.
The stadium was set into hills on every side.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Pretty sure Gretchen and Gayle had come, too.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">We noticed volleyball nets and a basketball
court, and I lamented the lack of a ball.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">We walked through the Royal Gardens on the way
there and on the way back. </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">They were
long walks.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Taka-Taka on way back</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Cards with Gayle, Sandy, Roxie, Nan and Gary very
late into the night. Gary taught us “99” and “Screw Your Neighbor.” We were
noisy and were scolded by our favorite night clerk.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">A running joke was begun, born from an entry in
our phrase books. In Greek: “Will you repair my dentures?” Somehow I began and
Gary helped perpetuate the idea that dentures were much on the minds of Greeks.
In fact, that was all they ever talked about, period. “What are dentures shared
by a couple?” “Teeth for two!” This, I claimed, was the national joke. I was a
twerp.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">The phrase book was full of gems. Under “Dating”
it included: “Pardon me, is this your handkerchief?”</span></li>
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<ul>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Cold, rainy day cancels Acropolis trip</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">National Museum instead</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Lunch somewhere upstairs in Omonia</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">On one of these nights, we hear that Jim has
pushed Ron into the fountain in Omonia Square, as a joke. Ron is not very
amused. Another night, Jim, Ron and Pat oink at a policeman and are chased.
They run into a hotel and hide in a bathroom stall. The police break the door
down, take away their passports and throw them in jail, where they spend the
night.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Jim also, at some point, buys a white fur coat,
knee-length.</span></li>
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<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Acropolis, cold and windy morning</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Lunch in Flea Market, after shopping with my
father, Nan, Carol and ?</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Gayle is locked in the bathroom and has to scale
the wall to the 2</span><sup style="text-indent: -0.25in;">nd</sup><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> floor window to call for help</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Nan loses camera (or it is stolen, more likely)</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Likavitos plans cancelled due to chaos of some
sort, but some go, with Jim leading</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Nan, Cindy, Gayle, Gary, Sandy and I go out for
a drink, probably Taka-Taka</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Hotel lobby for TV (English detective show),
cards, others return late</span></li>
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9 Jan 1979<o:p></o:p></div>
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<ul>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">The last of the luggage arrives (Lora’s)</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">National Museum for Mycenean exhibit</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Gary and I look for Nan’s camera in the
afternoon with no luck</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Likavitos that night with many, restaurant/bar</span></li>
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10 Jan 1979<o:p></o:p></div>
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<ul>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Board bus in the morning, Gary and I in the back.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">It begins to dawn on me that Greece, especially
the countryside, is beautiful. This is something I had, for some reason, never
imagined. I had always thought of the country as dry, barren and very rocky –
flat even. But there was green, even in January.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Janiss (Yanis?) has a limited selection of tapes
to play on the bus. We liked the Greek music and booed ABBA (why??). He was not
bothered. He WAS bothered by the fact we had no guide. It was not the way
things were done. My father sat in the guide’s chair and the two of them tried
to navigate our way southward.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Cross the canal of Corinth and our first stop.
We left the bus and walked to the canal, the very one separating northern and
southern Greece. We were all surprised by the height of the bridge spanning it.
Most of us dropped something into the water.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Corinth ruins and lunch. Toilets were again a
theme. The ancient ones and its so-called modern ones. Here were the dreaded
holes in the ground.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">I admire the hill in the near distance and wish
to climb it. But there is no time.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Gretchen falls ill</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Outdoor toilets</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Arrive at Mycenae, my father plays “On Top of
Old Smokey” on his harmonica</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Arrive Naplia mid-afternoon</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Gary, Ron and I climb hill, through the cacti;
needles penetrate (come out a few days later); explore the town; there’s a
Russian tanker</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Dinner is octopi?</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Gary and I walk to the other side of the
peninsula, meet others</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">I room with Gary and Ron? Or Pat? Nice hotel.
Must be a mistake.</span></li>
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11 Jan 1979<o:p></o:p></div>
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<ul>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">To Epidaurus by bus in the morning, Ron (it was
Pat wasn’t it?) sings in amphitheater</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Wander through the fields</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Back to Naplia for lunch; Ron gets into a fight
about clams (not sure I remember what this was about)</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Gary, Ron and I climb steps to fortress
overlooking city; gorgeous view</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Ron takes the long way back, we meet Gayle and
Sandy on the way down (late afternoon)</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Waiters at dinner are flirting with Roxie, and
they invite girls to disco that night</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Basketball on TV that evening, others head to
disco</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Gary draws Gretchen (and romance begins …)</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">I leave for disco, end up carrying Sandy from
the floor rather than actually dance</span></li>
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12 Jan 1979<o:p></o:p></div>
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<ul>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Depart for Olympia, arrive late afternoon</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Olympia Hotel has most of us nearby; also
another family-run hotel?</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Disco with Sandy, Nan, Roxie and Janiss (bus
driver, right?)</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Walked with Sandy, late</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Pat later tells us a story of his night
(bizarre)</span></li>
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13 Jan 1979<o:p></o:p></div>
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<ul>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Olympic ruins in the morning, have our own
events, including some footraces and pinecone football</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Walk through the countryside with Ron in the
afternoon</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Sandy heads off to disco with a Greek; I wait
for her (ha!)</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Gretchen is now very ill</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Gary and I invent “Slap Everything” which is
Slap Jack on steroids</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">The Blue Hammer? (I have no idea what that
means.)</span></li>
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14 Jan 1979<o:p></o:p></div>
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<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Depart Olympia in the morning</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Patras (Patros?) for lunch before ferry to
Northern Greece</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Afternoon walk with Sandy through town; someone
wears a Vikings jacket</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Arrive Delphi late afternoon, after harrowing
busride up the mountain side</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Switched to a very modern, for my father, hotel</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Whistling dinner (not sure what that means
either)</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">TV, backgammon, cards, “Cat People”</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Much romantic intrigue</span></li>
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15 Jan 1979<o:p></o:p></div>
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<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Sandy’s birthday</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Group to Delphi ruins in the morning; Pat sings
again</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Lunch with Gary in a deserted restaurant
(souflaki, as usual)</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Shop with Sandy mid-afternoon</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">I go looking for something resembling cake for
the birthday girl</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Dinner, which includes what I found</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Disco and a taxi back</span></li>
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16 Jan 1979<o:p></o:p></div>
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<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Back to Athens</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Dafni Monastery (mosaics), mid-afternoon, in
route</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Evening with Sandy, Roxie, Nan and ouzo</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Nan’s would-be suitor is told she is “out.”
George?</span></li>
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17 Jan 1979<o:p></o:p></div>
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<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Others to laundromats, but I walk alone (in
dirty clothes, no doubt)</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Go to Flea Market in the afternoon with Sandy.
Bought a ball for the Olympic stadium; watched the changing of the guards
again.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Sandy and the other girls/women have Scotch for
dinner and waiter (Dmitri) brings more</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Cards in the lobby and I’m suckered into an
incomprehensible card game with Greek men, who give me some sort of red liquor
(cherry ouzo?); Connie and Mary were also there</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">I run over to Taka-Taka to get Sandy some
souflaki</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Is this when the others went to Crete?</span></li>
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18 Jan 1979<o:p></o:p></div>
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<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Byzantine Museum (Airplane museum is next door)
with many Madonnas and assorted icons</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Walk back by myself</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">To the Acropolis with Sandy and to a bar on the
far side</span></li>
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19 Jan 1979<o:p></o:p></div>
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<ul>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">To Piraeus for boat (Saronic Star) and trip to
islands</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Aegina first, but I don’t take the tour to the
ruins, walk with Gary and Gretchen</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Poros is next; cat claws Sandy’s jeans as a mule
is led past us (maybe this was on Hydra?)</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Hydra</span></li>
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20 Jan 1979<o:p></o:p></div>
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<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Benaki Museum in the morning; weapons, clothes,
tapestries</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Sandy shops for boots</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Sandy, Nan, Roxie and I meet Janiss and a friend
at a touristy nightclub; includes Greek dancing</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Nan, Sandy and I walk back through (up and over)
the Acropolis</span></li>
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21 Jan 1979<o:p></o:p></div>
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<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">A free day, a Sunday</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">No one for volleyball (must have been the ball I
bought and I don’t know what “no one” means), so we play basketball at the
stadium (Gary, Sandy, Gretchen, Gayle and I) that evening</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">We walk back and Sandy and Gretchen try to teach
some dances</span></li>
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22 Jan 1979<o:p></o:p></div>
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<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Stoa Museum at base of Acropolis in the morning,
then the ruins nearby in the Agora</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Lunch with Sandy, Nan and Roxie</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">National Tourist Info Center in the afternoon</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">U.S. Embassy (about Customs declarations, etc.);
allowed to bring back more than we thought</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Nan and Roxie taxi back, Sandy and I walk, her
boot store is closed; went back late afternoon and it was still closed</span></li>
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23 Jan 1979<o:p></o:p></div>
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<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Sounion by bus (public bus) in the
morning/afternoon</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Gretchen sacrifices her camera to the
Mediterranean</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Sandy finally buys her boots</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Movie with Sandy, Gretchen and Gary (Pretty
Baby)</span></li>
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24 Jan 1979<o:p></o:p></div>
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<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Museum of Popular Art; embroidery, costumes</span></li>
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25 Jan 1979<o:p></o:p></div>
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<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Last full day</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Tour the city</span></li>
</ul>
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26 Jan 1979<o:p></o:p></div>
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<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Taka-Taka one last time in the late morning,
after a walk to the palace?</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Plane to Amsterdam</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Red Light District that evening (my father
leading)</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Another nice hotel</span></li>
</ul>
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27 Jan 1979<o:p></o:p></div>
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<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Van Gogh museum and Stedlijk?</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Plane home</span></li>
</ul>
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(R)uffda!http://www.blogger.com/profile/03864414004459010046noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9025967423204710925.post-79721052774838221962016-05-20T09:13:00.003-07:002016-05-20T09:13:22.031-07:00Gary<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Gary, somewhere in the hills overlooking Florence. He has climbed a wall to take some pictures. If I recall correctly, this one surrounds a graveyard.</span><br />
<br />
I found out late last night that my dear friend had died. I don't have the details yet. But, in the mean time, for myself, I want to write about him.<br />
<br />
I first met Gary in 1978, probably December. My father had invited all the students headed to Greece with him, in January, over to the house. I don't remember much of that. I'm not sure I even remember Gary, specifically, but I do have a vague sense of his good humor being present that night. And someone tall.<br />
<br />
Gary became my best friend on that trip and in the years that followed. He was one of my roommates in Athens. He broke the key, I think, when we checked in. Back in those days, Gary was as picky of an eater as I was. We lived on Cokes and chocolate bars, and souvlaki. We went off to explore Athens together, as well as Corinth, Naplia (where we strolled through the cacti), Mycanae, Olympia, Delphi and an island or two.<br />
<br />
We played tennis, wiffle ball and golf. Biked. Made some movies. And in 1980 I went on another interim trip, although I had graduated in the spring of 1979, to Italy, France and the Netherlands. This trip we came equipped with games (Uno, electronic football) and props (chattering teeth, the main one). And we invented Slap Everything -- Slap Jack, except <i>every</i> card had an action to be performed. In short, we annoyed the hell out of everyone.<br />
<br />
That was it for the interims, but the next year we made our movie -- about being stuck in Minnesota for the winter of 1981. We had fun. I'm not sure anyone who watched it did, but we did.<br />
<br />
And then we grew up. Or Gary did, at least. He ended up teaching at Macalester and travelling to Cuba and then China for his ceramics. I saw less and less of him, but did keep in touch. Occasionally we would play golf, although the tennis went the way of our youth.<br />
<br />
There's other stuff, of course. But most of it is too embarrassing to write. For me, anyhow.<br />
<br />
What I most wanted to say is that I loved the guy. I never told him that, but I am telling him now. I hope he hears me, somehow. I already miss him more than I can say. He was a major part of some of the very best moments of my life.<br />
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<br />(R)uffda!http://www.blogger.com/profile/03864414004459010046noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9025967423204710925.post-19527360540944988392015-01-27T20:39:00.005-08:002015-01-27T20:39:47.019-08:00Growing Up in Athens<b>Submitted to the Growing Up in Athens project.</b><br />
<br />
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Let me
begin this contribution to <i>Growing Up in
Athens</i> with a <i>caveat</i>. These
memories will be scattered, incomplete, and decidedly random. I would prefer
that this not be seen as an indictment of my abilities to organize or of my
writing skills. I blame it on repeated blows to the head, many of which
occurred, well, while growing up in Athens.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Just a
few examples:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraph" style="mso-list: l1 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">I
fell from the slide on the East Side Elementary playground at a very young age,
landing on my head. I do not remember this feat, but my siblings tell me it is
true.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraph" style="mso-list: l1 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">While
riding my bike for an unsanctioned Andy’s sugar binge, someone opened their car
door. I remember ending up in the front seat.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraph" style="mso-list: l1 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Back
at the East Side playground, I rode my bike down the hill, across Wallace Drive,
and into the curb on the other side. My bike stopped; I went over my
handlebars. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraph" style="mso-list: l1 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">I
played a lot of football. And I continued to play when we moved away when I was
11, in the summer of 1968. I played almost all of it without a helmet.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">(A
relative of Joe Mauer also hit me in the head with a baseball, but that was in
Minnesota. The point is the head traumas did not end when we moved away.)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">So with
that information laid out in advance, let me proceed to the memories:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraph" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo2; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">I
remember at least three floods, and since we lived on South May Avenue, very
much in the flood plain, these floods were significant. I recall TWO floods in
1968, but they were not the only ones. Research shows me that the floods of 1963
and 1964 were probably others I witnessed. 1968 was significant, however,
because my siblings and I ended up being evacuated by the National Guard and
taken to my grandmother’s apartment, a few blocks away, on Sunnyside.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraph" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo2; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Every
time there was a flood, my father would let the basement fill with water – the
water reached the second-to-last step in 1968. When other basements in the
neighborhood would invariably collapse, my father would make a point of letting
us know he told us so.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraph" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo2; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">I
also remember that these floods caused the school to be closed. This meant that
every time it rained, the <i>potential</i>
was there for more missed school time. For this reason, I admit, with some
shame, that I cheered the Hocking River on.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraph" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo2; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">A
highlight of the (summer, I assume) weeks were the “kiddie matinees” at the
Athena. I remember getting tickets at the Electric Company building across the
street from our house. I also won the drawing one afternoon, a gift certificate
to Swearingen’s. I bought a leather-covered rubber baseball, and put the
balance of the certificate in the bag. I took the ball out on the walk home (I
walked everywhere) and threw the bag away. A regret that has stayed with me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraph" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo2; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">I
do not remember a single movie from those matinees. I do recall two of the
first movies I saw were <i>The Sound of
Music</i> at a drive-in and <i>Help!</i> at
the Athena. I believe there were several Tarzan features.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraph" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo2; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">I
spent a lot of time at Crystal Pool. I vaguely recall the showers. Cement and a
roof, but basically outdoors? I also remember “Downtown” playing over the
speakers. I grew up in love with Julie Andrews and Petula Clark. Go figure.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraph" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo2; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">I
played little league baseball. Well, first I played whatever level it was that
used that leather-covered rubber ball. It seems to me the fields were over by
Morrison Elementary, but I could be wrong. Maybe I was hit in the head a few
times playing baseball, too.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraph" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo2; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Father
Black was our priest at The Church of the Good Shepherd. His son, David,
introduced me to Strat-O-Matic and stickball, two activities that occupied most
of my adolescence.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraph" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo2; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Jimmy
Armbruster, Mark Donahoe and I set a fire in the old stove by the State Highway
Building, between May and where Hudson dead ends. The fire department was
called. I ran away with Mark and hid in his garage. Jimmy stayed behind to talk
to the firemen. I was, generally, a well-behaved child. Al Penson may also have
been involved.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraph" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo2; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Mathew
Jonas was my best friend. He was hit by a car as we came from a movie at the
Baker Center. I distinctly remember him being knocked north on College Street.
All records indicate traffic never flowed that way. I cannot explain this
discrepancy. It was horrible, but Mathew recovered from his injuries.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraph" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo2; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">I
was an OU Art Department kid and spent a lot of time in Siegfried Hall. I
remember it was dirty in the exact same way all art buildings are dirty. The
Lins, Eldridges, McCarthys, Hostetlers, Jonases, etc. were all a huge part of
my childhood, as were English department families.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">It was a
wonderful place to grow up. I hated to leave. I miss it still. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Some
photos:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"> Karla, Maya and me. Art!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"> The author, in his backyard.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"> Little League.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"> Family dog with State Highway
building in background.</span></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">.</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">Siblings. East Elementary in background</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"> Me.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"> Father and 3 children.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSCprXFmL94VJaT1X7rquQzbRuOW_2nfiFbNOeVhgRts_9cp3UVv5thjobSfwR3Rsb07W8OuOqzXXOnE57UVss11QqnZEt2lB38_pS0RVAn7OR0JzDbpFSPzb11mqVpfYbnNV6L5xtiJ8/s1600/Leachchildren_porch.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSCprXFmL94VJaT1X7rquQzbRuOW_2nfiFbNOeVhgRts_9cp3UVv5thjobSfwR3Rsb07W8OuOqzXXOnE57UVss11QqnZEt2lB38_pS0RVAn7OR0JzDbpFSPzb11mqVpfYbnNV6L5xtiJ8/s1600/Leachchildren_porch.jpg" height="317" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"> Porch time with siblings.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"> Mother and daughters.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Matt Leach 1-27-2015<o:p></o:p></span></div>
(R)uffda!http://www.blogger.com/profile/03864414004459010046noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9025967423204710925.post-90471053194317038992014-03-07T17:56:00.001-08:002014-03-07T17:56:10.457-08:00And a few more photos<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjODluXntKvZAGRlzsfS7MJrN3AyxHpAoOYVOTxr5S9jANKAHtp9-Z9JHBnI5O4feIioeEAhsoctIvTy-hfSZFQ25YR8xrIjIYHqKOGRUFcHiqp3f08cefz8hJEK7gAfB1mdt3uPHPY_VY/s1600/AmDesert_WY_59.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjODluXntKvZAGRlzsfS7MJrN3AyxHpAoOYVOTxr5S9jANKAHtp9-Z9JHBnI5O4feIioeEAhsoctIvTy-hfSZFQ25YR8xrIjIYHqKOGRUFcHiqp3f08cefz8hJEK7gAfB1mdt3uPHPY_VY/s1600/AmDesert_WY_59.jpg" height="320" width="294" /></a></div>
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Out west, early 60s. This one doesn't belong here.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip65eTO1tyRDKnOFcq0zIqAvlHnrizaf9_x-PKefYGBxB_7eqwRw1GrRFHBq3YG3p-aUxcYSQGDEW7Il8G8YOXxBi_pxSzy9ipd4Rvv_oiMs2_G2QYSDKsl51eXgT8D-qPTSSGoU2UeW0/s1600/FDL+BP.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip65eTO1tyRDKnOFcq0zIqAvlHnrizaf9_x-PKefYGBxB_7eqwRw1GrRFHBq3YG3p-aUxcYSQGDEW7Il8G8YOXxBi_pxSzy9ipd4Rvv_oiMs2_G2QYSDKsl51eXgT8D-qPTSSGoU2UeW0/s1600/FDL+BP.jpg" height="320" width="190" /></a></div>
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Mom and Dad, just married, with the dog that died.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE2xyS6hjj8BadTlCeCFSK6u4euOYZYt0I7Be8cnoyPKqlA6zc8mq4qpHAu8uxuR8HpyWmAZPXHWoWIC45NNLoiLa5j5Gdlp5-CahPPyrtsc1D_n8Iy8Q8P2f6DwpgnLKWhZ0fD65Ukc0/s1600/Di.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE2xyS6hjj8BadTlCeCFSK6u4euOYZYt0I7Be8cnoyPKqlA6zc8mq4qpHAu8uxuR8HpyWmAZPXHWoWIC45NNLoiLa5j5Gdlp5-CahPPyrtsc1D_n8Iy8Q8P2f6DwpgnLKWhZ0fD65Ukc0/s1600/Di.jpg" height="320" width="271" /></a></div>
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Dirk, with a Gannon, maybe. </div>
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Dad, with Debbie.</div>
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Mom, with Betsy.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBpquf6MuY074j36EpuaoHvnUY_hJF19IlKV5BYSvm8MSA92pW403i4OGGx0FCsmC8_TQw0EZBSDgtY2JIcbTfCwB7i3-SX88KOj6x_tMiUFi_yXOe9qXqCucURsb5tAKEHBQh-6x655o/s1600/414+Brown.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBpquf6MuY074j36EpuaoHvnUY_hJF19IlKV5BYSvm8MSA92pW403i4OGGx0FCsmC8_TQw0EZBSDgtY2JIcbTfCwB7i3-SX88KOj6x_tMiUFi_yXOe9qXqCucURsb5tAKEHBQh-6x655o/s1600/414+Brown.jpg" height="320" width="209" /></a></div>
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Iowa City home.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivAT5pkI2Z6_AH5Nbc-DYU1l75qEpJNzBYPFEuPbLPTbFz6GZT8hxXlpGwW3HzC1GNhvaQ2KFiepFsh7RrwUTHYv6XoO4sy9Uj-S918P8KqU3usJ49uIK9pzUVt0zOTqJuOjM1ID-GgFk/s1600/Betsy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivAT5pkI2Z6_AH5Nbc-DYU1l75qEpJNzBYPFEuPbLPTbFz6GZT8hxXlpGwW3HzC1GNhvaQ2KFiepFsh7RrwUTHYv6XoO4sy9Uj-S918P8KqU3usJ49uIK9pzUVt0zOTqJuOjM1ID-GgFk/s1600/Betsy.jpg" height="320" width="207" /></a></div>
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Betsy.</div>
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The three siblings.</div>
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Betsy.</div>
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Again with the three siblings.</div>
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Dirk and Debbie (and friend), Iowa City.</div>
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Dirk.</div>
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Debbie and Dirk.</div>
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Papa (Frederick G Leach) and Dirk.</div>
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Dirk.</div>
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Dirk is two?</div>
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Dirk is about to set sail.</div>
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The call of the sea.</div>
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The same birthday.</div>
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Debbie in the kitchen. 3:35pm.</div>
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Debbie and the missing baby Dirk picture.</div>
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Dirk and Debbie (and Lady? Is that right?)</div>
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Debbie and Dirk</div>
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Debbie.</div>
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Debbie.</div>
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Uncle Eddie, Dad, Nana Leach, Dirk, Debbie</div>
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Dad with Dirk and Debbie (and a cat)</div>
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Nana Frye with Dirk and Debbie</div>
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Betsy gets into a photo.</div>
<br />(R)uffda!http://www.blogger.com/profile/03864414004459010046noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9025967423204710925.post-43980145343222170502014-03-07T17:39:00.003-08:002014-03-07T17:39:41.041-08:00The siblingsI was born. Lots of people had to move from one place to another, meet, have babies, and raise those babies in order for this to happen. I am proof that it did.<br />
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1957. Athens, Ohio. And I enter, stage left. Or right. Already on hand are three siblings -- two sisters and a brother. They would all know more about how and where I entered the stage, if they were paying attention.<br />
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Who were these siblings? Well, first there was the wedding. Fred Leach and Betty Pat Frye are married 8 June 1946 in Decatur, Illinois.<br />
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27 December 1948 brings them their first child, still in Decatur. This is Deborah Jane Leach.</div>
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9 May 1951, now in Iowa City, Iowa, Dirk Frederick Leach makes it a family of four.</div>
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Not, obviously, a baby picture. Also not in Iowa City. But it'll have to do for now.</div>
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The penultimate child is also born in Iowa City, 21 August 1954. This is Elizabeth Katrin Leach. Betsy.</div>
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<br />(R)uffda!http://www.blogger.com/profile/03864414004459010046noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9025967423204710925.post-860181941166196442013-03-07T08:56:00.000-08:002013-03-07T08:56:04.926-08:00Henry's list of complaints: 3/6-3/7/2013<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDMGbwobFfy9nVNP1fY54RGSvMrxCBmXimzLFR96H4-sLMe2puteZ1XdRdDpQEVS-KgVabXZJ2NlLNaS48mFE3WtFNn6lcDfhiHNdTTj2JJtDl7UwjW2ONsS_Ll2Z50DtKQrxQ4JC1vB0/s1600/DSCN4822%5B1%5D.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDMGbwobFfy9nVNP1fY54RGSvMrxCBmXimzLFR96H4-sLMe2puteZ1XdRdDpQEVS-KgVabXZJ2NlLNaS48mFE3WtFNn6lcDfhiHNdTTj2JJtDl7UwjW2ONsS_Ll2Z50DtKQrxQ4JC1vB0/s320/DSCN4822%5B1%5D.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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#1 Something is wrong with my diaper. Please fix it. Now.</div>
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#2 I am hungry. Deal with it. Now.</div>
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#3 I am still hungry. Something must be done. Now.</div>
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#4 Diaper problem again. Please fix it. Now.</div>
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#5 Yes, I'm tired, but why am I all alone in this bed? Join me. Now.</div>
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#6 Hmmm. Hungry again. What do we have that's good?</div>
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#7 Why am I down here on the floor by myself? Pick me up. Now.</div>
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#8 The diaper's got something in it, dammit!</div>
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#9 FOOOOOOOD!</div>
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To be continued ...</div>
<br />(R)uffda!http://www.blogger.com/profile/03864414004459010046noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9025967423204710925.post-58279702655628339302012-09-15T09:56:00.000-07:002012-09-15T09:59:08.055-07:00The Journals of Sven Skarsnook: Day 43<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTlruDVoRqaLEjouWpf10enNBowvx7-BaqmXEg5e9xwhQA8kCBQZp9WkXwoPHe1WSb_JNRuNVIUCKtJxrHftIywD6DARfWKJ9RnwYanPz-yDuuHoEGC0C40tFno5VHD4meTMciJTRhQ-g/s1600/DSCN0467.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTlruDVoRqaLEjouWpf10enNBowvx7-BaqmXEg5e9xwhQA8kCBQZp9WkXwoPHe1WSb_JNRuNVIUCKtJxrHftIywD6DARfWKJ9RnwYanPz-yDuuHoEGC0C40tFno5VHD4meTMciJTRhQ-g/s320/DSCN0467.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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If I look concerned, that's because I AM!<br />
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Managed some exploring early this morning while the giants slept. I thought I should document some of the creatures of this strange land. I don't know what to make of them. I really don't.<br />
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It's on a stick! An animal's head on a stick! I don't care if it IS some sort of native custom, that's just sick.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDcaVvujAyXrNdM_AdbDWePKphOdh7DbNcBYcs8ERsbYX5R19kBSb6m0ixABuu9QISLwhDqhwnbVfFnysOxd-IPXhroGbAGxQphVrAS0XZZiAGmrTqiFgrDRHWlvajIDIc8tXK4ecV-vE/s1600/DSCN3036.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDcaVvujAyXrNdM_AdbDWePKphOdh7DbNcBYcs8ERsbYX5R19kBSb6m0ixABuu9QISLwhDqhwnbVfFnysOxd-IPXhroGbAGxQphVrAS0XZZiAGmrTqiFgrDRHWlvajIDIc8tXK4ecV-vE/s320/DSCN3036.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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I don't even know where to begin with this one. Why is its nose the same color as its hair? It's really well-dressed, I'll give it that.<br />
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The gray one moves occasionally and doesn't seem to like me. The green one? Scares the beegeebers out of me. Look at those eyes!<br />
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I kinda like this one. I have no idea why.<br />
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I don't know. I don't WANT to know. I just want someone to get it to leave!<br />
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These guys hang out with me in my sleeping quarters. I thought they were my fellow explorers at first. But they haven't moved in six weeks, so I'm afraid they are my ex-explorers. They sure are cuddly, however.<br />
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This one stands in the corner by himself. I think he did something really, really bad. That yellow ribbon probably means something.<br />
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That's it for now. I'll try to get some pictures of the giants one of these days.(R)uffda!http://www.blogger.com/profile/03864414004459010046noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9025967423204710925.post-22827130454752274992012-09-14T08:03:00.000-07:002012-09-14T08:05:22.415-07:00The Journals of Sven Skarsnook: Day 42 (or is it 43?)Like I said, I don't know how to count. I do know it's been six weeks since people started shining bright lights in my face.<br />
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They took me to ANOTHER one of those events with whistles last night, this one even longer than the first. I recognized some of the littler giants trying not to get hit by the ball. They were wearing the same clothes. But some of them were either wearing different clothes or were different littler giants. There was also some gawdawful horn that they didn't have last time. I had to have my diaper changed after it went off the first time.<br />
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Geebers.<br />
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I took a trip today and saw a whole bunch of new giants. I like these trips, generally. Unless I get hungry and they just leave me in the back of the ship to howl and howl and howl. Do they stop? Hell, no. I need to find a new way to communicate with these monsters. Wish I could get my hands on a pointy stick. That'd do the job.<br />
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I have decided to escape from my captors at my earliest opportunity. It hasn't been a totally unpleasant captivity -- there's that stuff the nice giant feeds me, for instance, and some pretty cute outfits, if I do say so myself -- but prison is prison. Am I a person or a pet? THAT is the question.<br />
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Anyhow, I've been squirreling away odds and ends that I can get my hands on, in case I can use them in my breakout. So far, I have two nooks, a clean diaper, a rattling thing, and a hammer. Let me tell you, finding that hammer was a stroke of good fortune.<br />
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Me. With three of the littler giants. The one in the middle is the one at the whistling event. It got hit several times. I almost felt sorry for it. Almost.(R)uffda!http://www.blogger.com/profile/03864414004459010046noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9025967423204710925.post-53738366116798563722012-09-13T09:30:00.001-07:002012-09-15T09:56:25.599-07:00The Journals of Sven Skarsnook: Day 42One of the giants told me a bizarre story today. I'm writing this from memory, so I may not have it exactly right. I'm guessing it's one of their myths, but what do I know? Could be true. You be the judge.<br />
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So there's these five creatures. I think it called them "pwiggies". It starts with one of these "pwiggies" going to a store. The giant didn't tell me what this "pwiggie" did at the store, or whether it bought anything neat. All I know is that it went. And that someone thought this fact was somehow significant.<br />
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The next "pwiggie" didn't get to go. I'm guessing there were hard feelings about this, but, again, the details are scarce. Don't know what it did instead. Don't know if it was being punished. Don't know ANYTHING!<br />
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You know, now that I'm retelling it, this is a really stupid story, isn't it?<br />
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Anyhow, there were five of these "pwiggies", so I'm not stopping with the second one. The third "pwiggie" had some sort of meat dish, I forget what. The giant -- of course -- didn't tell me if this one ate it at home or at the store. I'm guessing it was at the store, since there's no mention of meat for the second "pwiggie."<br />
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The fourth "pwiggie" was as unlucky as the second "pwiggie." There was no meat for it either. They clearly spell this out. It had NONE. We can only hope that it at least was able to go to the store with the others, even if it was forced to watch the third "pwiggie" eat something really good. It would totally suck if it had to stay home with the second "pwiggie" AND not get the snack. Besides, why have two characters in the same story doing THE EXACT SAME THING?!<br />
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OK. But here's the bizarre part. The fifth "pwiggie", who DID get to go to the store, where it may or may not have had some meat, went "Weeweeweeweeweewee" all the way back to their house. Why, you ask? Exactly! Is there an explanation for this behavior? Is it "pwiggie-speak" for something? Is it, in fact, the entire POINT OF THE STUPID STORY!?<br />
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Apparently, I'll never know. The giant just laughs and tickles me when it gets to this point. And the big galoot seems to be expecting some response from me. What am I supposed to say? "Oh, wow! Tell me that one again! I just can't get enough of pointless anecdotes!"? No. I won't give it the satisfaction.<br />
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These clowns are wasting my time, I tell you.<br />
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Explain this to me, by the way. I'm telling you, they're messing with me. And I'm tired of it. I'm supposed to be on an Arctic Adventure, dammit! (Pardon the French.)(R)uffda!http://www.blogger.com/profile/03864414004459010046noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9025967423204710925.post-8394898548120980482012-09-11T21:00:00.001-07:002012-09-11T21:00:24.994-07:00The Journals of Sven Skarsnook: Day howthehelldoIknow?It's like Day 39 or so. I've lost track and I can't count anyhow.<br />
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The big news here is that I've had three bottles in the past couple of weeks. I don't know what was in them, but it seemed like the same stuff I get from one of the giants. The nice one. The one that gives me that stuff.<br />
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I'm also told that I am now wearing a Size 1 diaper. Apparently the ones I was wearing previously had no size. I find that demeaning. The giants are always telling me how small I am. Well, guess what? THEY ARE HIDEOUSLY LARGE!!<br />
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What else? I went to some sort of event tonight with whistles. It was annoying. A bunch of the littler giants were trying not to keep a ball in the air. At least, I think that's what they were doing. It went on forever! I think I had my diaper changed twice and the nice giant let me have some of that stuff. Not in a bottle stuff.<br />
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Blasted hot again today. And breezy. The two giants that are around the most put me in that wheeled contraption and rolled me around. It was OK except when that bright light was in my eyes. That was just the pits. Thing's hot too.<br />
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That's about it. The Pole is a distant memory now. An illusion. A stupid joke, I think. I will have my revenge!<br />
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But first I need to sleep. Maybe after a snack.<br />
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Oh, there was this, too. They dipped me into some ice cold liquid! The bastards!(R)uffda!http://www.blogger.com/profile/03864414004459010046noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9025967423204710925.post-10738053117946938632012-08-30T15:25:00.000-07:002012-08-30T15:25:19.877-07:00The Journals of Sven Skarsnook: Day 28Yesterday, the giants put me in that rolling contraption and took me to some odd place. I was sleeping at the time, so I don't know far it was or how long it took, but when I woke up I was in the middle of scores of giants. It was noisy and smelly and hot -- and the giants were pretty hideous, let me tell you. I went back to sleep. After a quick snack.<br />
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Not much else to report. To tell you the truth, I'm still not sure what's going on. Some nights, I just lie awake and howl. The giants come running and I usually get something to eat and a new diaper. So that's nice. But it doesn't explain diddly-squat.(R)uffda!http://www.blogger.com/profile/03864414004459010046noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9025967423204710925.post-4863417274603064072012-08-20T14:30:00.000-07:002012-08-20T16:09:47.966-07:00The Journals of Sven Skarsnook: Day 17I have to admit I haven't much felt like writing. This weekend, my worst suspicions were confirmed. I am not an Arctic explorer. I am not even an explorer. I'm a baby.<br />
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What sort of creatures would perpetrate such a diabolical deception on an infant? The same sort of creatures who would dangle these above my head and expect me to believe they were actually polar bears.<br />
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<br />
<br />
I cannot begin to tell you how disappointed I am in this turn of events. In just three short days, I went from a Life of Adventure to lying around in something they call a sleeper bag, basically a sack with a zipper. It's cozy. I'll give you that. But it's humiliating.<br />
<br />
<br />(R)uffda!http://www.blogger.com/profile/03864414004459010046noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9025967423204710925.post-27837892162477582482012-08-16T11:32:00.002-07:002012-08-16T11:32:57.338-07:00Today's mail and a trip to TargetToday's mail brought both an invoice from my plumber and my property tax bill. For some reason -- perhaps a substitute carrier? -- the mail arrived four hours early. I could have waited. Really.
<br />
<br />
A couple of weeks ago there was a funny whistling noise coming from one of the pipes leading to an upstairs radiator. Then there was some leaking. Maybe there was leaking first. The radiator had always been pretty feeble, more of a sculpture than anything functional. So we called the plumber who worked for a good 6 or 7 hours on this and that.<br />
<br />
16 Aug 2012<br />
<br />
Here is another gem of an unpublished blog entry. How could I have not published this?<br />
<br />
I don't remember when this was started, but plumbing remains an on-going issue here. I think, but don't quote me on this, that shortly after this entry was begun we had a leak in the master bedroom radiator which dripped through the dining room ceiling. I got the plumber on the line and he told me to tighten a giant nut. "Everyone tells me that," I joked. In my head. Because I don't joke around with my plumber much. I did as he said and there's been no leak since. But we do have some flaky ceiling paper in the corner where the leak was.<br />
<br />
Property tax bill! That's a clue. When do the property tax bills arrive? March or February, I bet. I'm guessing this was from late winter 2011.<br />
<br />
OK. That's enough.(R)uffda!http://www.blogger.com/profile/03864414004459010046noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9025967423204710925.post-16951888387572441982012-08-16T11:18:00.001-07:002012-08-16T11:25:02.407-07:00Dear FutureguyHey! How you doing? I was just sitting here, wasting time, waiting for spring or good fortune, whichever wants to come first, and I thought about you, Futureguy, and decided to write. I know it's been a while, but not for you. seeing as how you're not even born yet and all. It's all water headed toward the bridge, no matter when I post, right?
<br />
<br />
Some of my so-called friends think I'm crazy to be writing to you. "We aren't even interested in what you have to say," they say. "Why would some unborn Futureguy want to hear from you?"
<br />
<br />
I tell them that's the point. <br />
<br />
<b>16 Aug 2012</b><br />
<br />
Apparently this was a draft that I just inadvertently labelled and published. It seems, I don't know, unpolished?<br />
<br />
It's not even 70 today, here in Minnesota, after the hottest summer in decades, if not ever. You may be wondering why I'm wasting your time to weather trivia and I guess I can't blame you. Would you prefer some baseball trivia?<br />
<br />
What was Joe Mauer's mother's maiden name?<br />
<br />
We watched <i>Jean de Florette</i> last night. It was not nearly as good as I thought it was. I wonder if Gerard is still married to Elizabeth.<br />
<br />
This was a bad idea, I think. Hope you are well, or will be well.(R)uffda!http://www.blogger.com/profile/03864414004459010046noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9025967423204710925.post-62203094199453131972012-08-16T11:09:00.000-07:002012-08-16T11:15:29.047-07:00So ...Where was I going with this?<br />
<br />
It had something to do with the Family Tree and the new baby.<br />
<br />
I was even going to work up a map that showed the progression of The Leaches (and the families they married into) from Massachusetts to New York to Wisconsin to Kansas to Illinois (and then to Iowa, Ohio and Minnesota), but that seemed like a lot of work and something Ancestry.com does much better.<br />
<br />
So, as I said, so ...<br />
<br />
The Progression of the Leaches. Yikes!(R)uffda!http://www.blogger.com/profile/03864414004459010046noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9025967423204710925.post-53185687645997815182012-08-16T10:56:00.004-07:002012-08-20T15:55:17.486-07:00The Journals of Sven Skarsnook: Day 14<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpep7WTw8Kgh5R_2JSwJFGZ4-ElGwW41yay5WDDvUqKrR8Vv3I2P0r8yn7Zm5Se8MH_nEflvp44IWXmrWaj79mtB1Yd_JtLVlfQ2_gQp1PjiGFxtlxse2zh0mDvBdX9Ac-syS3EsdKPLw/s1600/DSCN2253.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpep7WTw8Kgh5R_2JSwJFGZ4-ElGwW41yay5WDDvUqKrR8Vv3I2P0r8yn7Zm5Se8MH_nEflvp44IWXmrWaj79mtB1Yd_JtLVlfQ2_gQp1PjiGFxtlxse2zh0mDvBdX9Ac-syS3EsdKPLw/s320/DSCN2253.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
I am beginning to suspect that this whole expedition is a cruel hoax, hatched by these giants who come and go as they please.<br />
<br />
Let's consider the facts:<br />
<br />
1) My "gear", as far as I can tell, consists of this knit cap. Where are my skis? My snowsuit? My mittens? My boots, fercryinoutloud?!<br />
2) It's really not very cold. I mean, there's a nice breeze and sometimes I do need an extra blankie, but it's not exactly Arctic.<br />
3) Where are my compatriots? I vaguely recall a few from the first few days -- and what a racket they'd make! -- but there's been no one but me for the last week or so. Except for those giants.<br />
4) Shouldn't I have a map?<br />
<br />
Anyhow. The Pole, needless to say, remains elusive -- or, as I now suspect, totally fictional. Snacks, at least, appear to be served when I want them. So I have that going for me.(R)uffda!http://www.blogger.com/profile/03864414004459010046noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9025967423204710925.post-27563588134492167372012-08-14T14:24:00.002-07:002012-08-16T11:16:07.089-07:00The Journals of Sven Skarsnook: Arctic Explorer<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Day 12. The third day of this blasted storm has set us seriously behind schedule and cut heavily into our supplies. Already, we have had to cut back on diapers. Lord knows what we will do should this blizzard continue.<br />
<br />
Nevertheless, our spirits remain high. Is there any nobler purpose than exploring, testing the limits of one's endurance, wearing the Fatherland's onesie in that pursuit? No, there isn't.<br />
<br />
I do have one complaint. We expressly ordered Bouncy Seats for this trek and some clown sent us these "Aquarium Take-Along-Swings" instead, complete with flashing lights and lullabies. I ask you, could we have been given anything more impractical?<br />
<br />
That's about it for today. I'm going to nap a bit, then have myself a snack, probably nap some more, have another snack, nap after that.<br />
<br />
<br />(R)uffda!http://www.blogger.com/profile/03864414004459010046noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9025967423204710925.post-39378699942480320252012-07-08T17:25:00.000-07:002012-08-16T11:16:50.360-07:00Chapter zero - continuedMy mother's parents were <b>John Louis Frye</b> and <b>Frances Christine Milliken</b>. This side of the family was also considerably harder to track down and the potential for errors in the research somewhat higher.<br />
<br />
John Louis Frye (1905-1949), son of Charles Fletcher Frye and Anna Claudia Harwood.<br />
<br />
Frances Christine Milliken (1905-1992), daughter of William Edward Milliken and Daisy Ola Thompson.<br />
<br />
Charles Fletcher Frye (1858-1951), son of Christopher Columbus Frye and Almira Harwood.<br />
Anna Claudia Harwood (1864-1937), daughter of Charles Burt Harwood and Martha Jane Griggs.<br />
<br />
William Edward Milliken (1878-1913), son of David Taylor Milliken and Sarah Minerva Corley.<br />
Daisy Ola Thompson (1884-1934), daughter of Robert Asbury Thompson and Frances Christiana Stanford.<br />
<br />
Christopher Columbus Frye (1839-1918), son of Henry Frye and Dorcas Darcy Huffman.<br />
Almira Underwood (1840-1905), daughter of Henry Underwood and Eliza A Hufford.<br />
Charles Burt Harwood (1837-1911), son of Nathan Harwood and Abigail Munn Burt.<br />
Martha Jane Griggs (1840-1915), daughter of Benjamin S Griggs and Jane Struble.<br />
<br />
David Taylor Milliken (1846-1890), son of Samuel Milliken and Nancy Jane Corley.<br />
Sarah Minerva Corley (1847-1920), daughter of Henry William Corley and Martha Ann Hall.<br />
Robert Asbury Thompson (1862-1934), son of Edward F Thompson and Martha Caroline Cubley.<br />
Frances Christiana Stanford (1866-1886), daughter of Alpheus E Stanford and Mary E Trotman.<br />
<br />
Henry Frye (1800-1880), son of John Fry and Charity.<br />
Dorcas Darcy Huffman (1811-1865), daughter of Jacob Huffman and Margaret Sayre.<br />
Henry Underwood (1810-1896), son of Jesse Underwood and Julia Ann Meyers.<br />
Eliza A Hufford (1814-1890), daughter of Peter D Hufford and Catherine Meyers.<br />
Nathan Harwood (1795-1847), son of Amherst Harwood and Betsy James.<br />
Abigail Munn Burt (1798-1865), daughter of Charles Burt and Anna Chapin.<br />
Benjamin S Griggs (1802- ?), son of Samuel Griggs and Sarah Ann Griggs.<br />
Jane Struble (1812- ?), daughter of Daniel Struble and Margaret Wyker.<br />
<br />
Samuel Milliken (1817- ?), son of James Milliken and Mary (Polly) Hastings.<br />
Nancy Jane Corley (1823-1866), daughter of Jonathan C Corley and Delilah Basham.<br />
Henry William Corley (1820-1890), son of Jonathan C Corley and Delilah Basham.*<br />
Martha Ann Hall (1825-1848), parents unknown although I have my leads.<br />
Edward F Thompson (1835-1862), parents unknown.<br />
Martha Caroline Cubley (1840- ?), daughter of Robert M Cubley and Rebecca Beavers.<br />
Alpheus E Stanford (1846- ?), son of Oliver Hazard Perry Stanford and Frances Amanda Porter Willis.<br />
Mary E Trotman (abt 1839- ?), daughter of Thomas Trotman II and Christiana Elizabeth Hobbs.<br />
<br />
These families all converged in Shelby County, Illinois, but here's the paths:<br />
<br />
Frye/Huffman - Pennsylvania to Ohio to Illinois.<br />
Underwood/Hufford - Pennsylvania to Ohio.<br />
Harwood/Burt - Massachusetts to New York to Illinois.<br />
Griggs/Struble - New Jersey to Ohio.<br />
Milliken/Corley/Hall - North Carolina/Tennessee to Tennessee to Illinois.<br />
Thompson/Cubley - Georgia/Alabama to Texas.<br />
Stanford/Trotman - Georgia to Texas.<br />
<br />
*Family secret, ignore.<br />
<br />
<br />(R)uffda!http://www.blogger.com/profile/03864414004459010046noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9025967423204710925.post-2528601268712325482012-07-08T15:36:00.000-07:002012-08-16T11:17:07.876-07:00Chapter zeroA (brief) summary of the Family Tree, starting with my father's side. The question is <i>How do I go about presenting this information?</i> The answer is probably <i>Sloppily, very sloppily</i>.<br />
<br />
I'm not going all the way back to Lawrence Leach (1580-1662), so it stands to reason I'm also not going back to <i>his</i> ancestors. Not yet, anyhow.<br />
<br />
Let's try this:<br />
<br />
Frederick Darwin Leach, son of <b>Frederick George Leach</b> and <b>Edwina Gist</b>.<br />
<br />
Frederick George Leach (1898-1973) was the son of Everett Isaac Leach and Mary Emma Banks.<br />
<br />
Everett Isaac Leach (1867-1934) was the son of Eli Edward Leach and Juliette Saunders.<br />
Mary Emma Banks (1870-1945) was the daughter of Samuel Banks and Mary B Rader.<br />
<br />
Eli Edward Leach (1825-1894) was the son of Isaac Hayes (I kid you not) Leach and Chloe Rideout.<br />
Juliette Saunders (1826-1904) was the daugher of William Saunders and Parmelia Marsh.<br />
Samuel Banks (1845-1912) was the son of Henry Banks and Lydia Dewald.<br />
Mary B Rader (1846-1933) was the daughter of Benjamin Rader and Catherine Brown.<br />
<br />
Isaac Hayes Leach (1788-1876) was the son of Isaac Leach and Jerusha Leach.<br />
Chloe Rideout (1796- ?) was the daughter of Benjamin Rideout and Sarah.<br />
William Saunders (1799-1882) was the son of George Saunders and Nancy Ann Clark.<br />
Parmelia Marsh (1804-1888) was the daughter of Samuel Marsh and Keziah Gorton.<br />
Henry Banks (1814- ?) was the son of a man named Bankes. Still looking for more info.<br />
Lydia Dewald (1820- ?) was the daughter of Abraham Dewald and Elizabeth Reihm.<br />
Benjamin Rader (1823-1890) was the son of Conrad Roeder, Jr. and Maria Magdalena Ulrich.<br />
Catherine Brown (1827-1903) was the daughter of Daniel Brown and Elizabeth Martin.<br />
<br />
I'll stop here. The migration was from New York to Wisconsin to Kansas for the Leach/Rideout/Saunders/Marsh branch, and from Pennsylvania to Ohio to Illinois to Kansas for the Banks/Dewald/Rader/Brown contingent.<br />
<br />
Edwina Gist (1896-1983) was the daughter of Almon Arthur Gist and May Etta Hallowell.<br />
<br />
Almon Arthur Gist (1870-1955) was the son of Thomas Gist and Rebecca Jackson Thompson.<br />
May Etta Hallowell (1870-1920) was the daughter of William Alfred Hallowell and Sylvia Henrietta Mead.<br />
<br />
Thomas Gist (1829-1898) was the son of Hiram Gist and Sarah (Sally) Martin.<br />
Rebecca Jackson Thompson (1829-1920) was the daughter of John Thompson and Elizabeth Delong.<br />
William Alfred Hallowell (1828-1915) was the son of John Hallowell and Sarah Reynolds.<br />
Sylvia Henrietta Mead (abt 1830-1876) was the daughter of Ezra Mead and Sylvia A Packard.<br />
<br />
Hiram Gist (1796-1875) was the son of John Gist and Hannah Geron.<br />
Sarah (Sally) Martin (1807- ?) was the daughter of William P Martin and Martha Stephens.<br />
John Thompson (1788-1856) was the son of James Thompson and Mary Ann Jackson.<br />
Elizabeth Delong (1800-1832) was the daughter of James Delong and Nancy Agnes Simpson.<br />
John Hallowell (1787-1851) was the son of John Hallowell and Lydia Trump.<br />
Sarah Reynolds (1790-1846) was the daughter of Jesse Reynolds and Sarah Haines.<br />
Ezra Mead (1794-1846) was the son of Ezra Mead and Hannah Sampson.<br />
Sylvia A Packard (1798-1845) was the daughter of George Packard III and Margaret Prouty.<br />
<br />
The Gists went from Virginia to Tennessee to Missouri to Kansas. The Martins from North Carolina to Kentucky to Missouri. The others generally from Pennsylvania and Ohio, although the Packards and Meads were originally from Vermont and/or Massachusetts.<br />
<br />
So that's my father's side.<br />
<br />(R)uffda!http://www.blogger.com/profile/03864414004459010046noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9025967423204710925.post-59221402528183647562012-07-08T14:30:00.001-07:002012-08-16T11:17:22.577-07:00Chapter oneOK. This isn't really Chapter one, but you have to start somewhere and I choose to start with the births of my parents.<br />
<br />
My father, Frederick Darwin Leach, was born September 19, 1924 in Arkansas City, Kansas. I have been told that Arkansas City is pronounced Ar-kansas and not like the state of Arkansas. It's entirely possible that the residents of Arkansas City pronounce Arkansas the same way. I don't know. Have I been there? This is just one more thing I do not recall.<br />
<br />
He was the first born son of Frederick George Leach and Edwina Gist.<br />
<br />
An undated postcard of the metropolis. The streetcar speaks well for the city.<br />
<br />
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<br />
<br />
<br />
My mother, Elizabeth Patricia Frye (called Betty Pat because no one on her side of the family goes by their given name), was born September 13, 1925 in Cowden, Illinois. I <i>have</i> been to Cowden, a very small town in southern Illinois, near Effingham (one of the better names for a city I've come across).<br />
<br />
She was the first born daughter of John Louis Frye and Frances Christine Milliken.<br />
<br />
This is Grand Avenue in Cowden, with no date unfortunately. It has improved somewhat since then, although I'm not sure its population has gone up.<br />
<br />
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<br />
Additional photos can be found here:<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.shelbycohistgen.net/historicalphotos.php?view=thumbnailList&category=3">http://www.shelbycohistgen.net/historicalphotos.php?view=thumbnailList&category=3</a>
<br />
<br />
But now I'm thinking I've started my story later than I should have. Maybe it should have started with my grandparents or <i>their</i> parents or grandparents. I never met any of these people, but I have been researching the genealogy for several years now.<br />
<br />
Never mind. I'm going further back in time.<br />
<br />
But first, my parents as children. First, my father:<br />
<br />
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<br />
a little older:<br />
<br />
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<br />
and my mother:<br />
<br />
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<br />
and a little older:<br />
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<br />(R)uffda!http://www.blogger.com/profile/03864414004459010046noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9025967423204710925.post-47456516316453228782012-07-08T11:29:00.001-07:002012-08-16T11:17:39.111-07:00My LifeYes, it's been a while. But you can't say you weren't alerted to my tendencies.<br />
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This post, and probably several more, are going to be about me. I'd rather write about someone a little more interesting, but that would require way too much work. Instead, all I have to do is rack my defective brain for what memories I have left. "You will talk!" I tell it.<br />
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I am told I was born in Athens, Ohio on April 20, 1957 - and I have the birth certificate to prove it. The hospital was called Sheltering Arms, although the pictures I've seen of it looks more like an apartment building than a hospital.
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Looks a little suspicious, doesn't it?
I was the fourth of four children in my family, so I entered the Leach novel somewhere around Chapter 32, which, naturally, led to lots of confusion in my childhood. Heck, it still haunts my life story.<br />
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Anyhow, that's enough for now. This is exhausting.
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(R)uffda!http://www.blogger.com/profile/03864414004459010046noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9025967423204710925.post-59682606444717683622009-05-11T11:30:00.000-07:002009-05-11T12:41:55.242-07:00A Homily in the Memory of Frederick Darwin Leach<span style="font-size:85%;">[This homily was written by Joseph Uemura, and read by Professor Uemura, July 7, 1986, at my father's funeral.]</span><br /><br />Scriptural text:<br /><br />Who has believed what we have heard?<br />And to whom has the arm of the Lord been revealed? ...<br />Surely he has borne our griefs and carried our sorrows;<br />Yet we esteemed him stricken, smitten ..., and afflicted.<br />But he was wounded for our transgressions,<br />he was bruised for our iniquities;<br />upon him was the chastisement that has made us whole,<br />and with his stripes, we are healed.<br /><br />--Isaiah 53: 1,4,5. (RSV)<br /><br /><br />Artists, scholars, and teachers, such as Frederick Darwin Leach, are those among us of whom it might be said that God has chosen to be stricken, smitten, afflicted, wounded, bruised, and chastised, in order that we might be forgiven, made whole, and healed. Fred was superbly one of these: A passionately creative artist, meticulous scholar, consummate and caring teacher, fellow Hellenophile, and the only other authentic faculty curmudgeon.<br /><br />I always knew Fred and I were ontologically and irretrievably connected: Fred passed away on July 3rd. And July 3rd is my birthday. Now, he and I knew, in advance, that he was audacious enough to have planned it that way! And I am audacious enough -- and humble enough -- to know that "upon him was the chastisement that made me whole."<br /><br />From the very first time I met Fred -- at Paul Smith's home, when he interviewed for our position -- I knew that he was <em>my</em> kind of human being! Inasmuch as sarcasm is one of the ways I have of showing affection, I said, "Come on, my good man, no one has a Ph.D. in Art History from Iowa; so, how could you? There, they only torture them for ten years, and let them go!" Knowing Fred, you can appreciate that he was completely undaunted, and shot back, "And what about Ph.D.'s in Philosophy from Columbia?" Needless to say, I have loved him ever since! -- That quick wit, that great voice, that maker of fine distinctions, precise lines, and <em>shibui</em> colors; that deep, compassionate heart.<br /><br />What I have always admired about Fred is that he always <em>knew</em> when we were suffering the slings and arrows of academic life. He did not, however, "suffer fools well," or, as my Irish brother-in-law puts it, "he disliked intensely conversing with diseased minds." When we were a "faculty-run" institution, the central cleaning house was the chairman's meeting. I can still hear Fred's baritone voice uttering outrageous things vociferously. At any rate, here, we detected and exposed so many <em>anguis in herba</em> before they became policy that, twelve years ago, such meetings were summarily abandoned in order that the University could operate "as it was clearly intended." We <em>coeurs mechant</em> should have known -- I think Fred knew -- that we had "sung our sweetest swan song." My point is only this: Fred was <em>primus inter pares</em> in recognizing "wormy ideas" when he saw them, and, now, "with his stripes, we are healed."<br /><br />Betty Pat thought I ought to mention that Fred was no less sanguine about religion as about administrators. As any reasonable being would, Fred could not abide priestcraft, fanaticism, nor vacuous ritual. Rather, he'd love Voltaire's remark that "religion would never die because there would always be people who loved to sing and drink on Saturday night and wished to continue on Sunday morning," preferably in a beautiful place, because their friends were there, because music, dancing, bread and wine are delightful, and doubly so because all these might represent some precious things on which one's whole fate turns!<br /><br />Another thing Fred knew was that if one really does philosophy well, hemlock is the logical result! So, on his trip to Greece in 1972, he brought back a gift with the following note: "To Joe: A potsherd from the floor of the house of Simon the Shoemaker in the Athenian Agora. Stolen by F. Leach ... expressly for J. Uemura." Fred knew that Socrates began his first irritating questions in the house of Simon, and wanted me to have a concrete reminder that if I kept it up, they'd get me, too, one day! Again, "upon him was the chastisement that made me whole."<br /><br />Two years ago, Fred gave me another gift -- a framed 8 x 10 photo of a rose he had photographed at the very height of its bloom. Perhaps you have seen other copies he made of it as displayed in his showings a year ago. The latin inscription in Fred's own hand reads: "<em>Stat rosa pristina nomine, nomina nuda tenemus</em>." My halting translation would read: "The pristine and original rose thrives in its glorious authenticity, but we can only grasp its empty name." It is true about the creative artist, the scholar, and the teacher. It is true about Fred Leach, himself. The pristine, original experience is what is authentic. This experience is what the artist undergoes, this experience is what the teacher must experience, what the scholar must discover. We grasp what we can, we grasp the empty name of the rose, and try to understand the authentic essence of things, the <em>rosa pristina </em>itself! As a great teacher, artist, scholar, and friend, Fred experienced and suffered the wide sweep of artistic expression, he knew intimately many <em>rosae pristinae</em>, and gave us the <em>names</em> of them all for us to see, to grasp, and to understand. And, again, "upon him was the chastisement that made us whole, And with his stripes, we are healed." <em>Stat rosa pristina nomine, nomina nuda tenemus</em>. "The pristine and original rose thrives in its glorious authenticity, but we can only grasp its empty name," for now it is our task to create, as Fred himself has created, the abiding legacy to his memory.<br /><br />"Who has believed what we have heard?<br />And to whom has the arm of the Lord been revealed? ...<br />Surely he has borne our griefs and carried our sorrows;<br />Yet we esteemed him stricken, smitten by God, and afflicted.<br />But he was wounded for our transgressions,<br />he was bruised for our iniquities;<br />upon him was the chastisement that made us whole,<br />and with his stripes, we are healed."<br /><br />"Good night, Sweet Prince,<br />And may flights of angels sing thee to thy rest." (<em>Hamlet</em>, V)<br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Joseph N. Uemura<br />July 7, 1986</span>(R)uffda!http://www.blogger.com/profile/03864414004459010046noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9025967423204710925.post-14065753990829662862009-05-04T14:36:00.001-07:002012-08-16T11:19:45.922-07:00Literary Geek quizFrom FaceBook, just because.<br />
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1) You own the most books written by what author?<br />
Hassler probably. Decided to read them all after Staggerford. McMurtrey may be close, although I started checking those out of the library.<br />
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2) You own the most copies of what book?<br />
No more than two copies of any that I can think of. Why more? Trying to think if there might be three of something, besides the dictionary or Roget's What'sanotherwordforit?<br />
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3) Did it bother you that [the original form of] both those questions ended with prepositions?<br />
Ooh. It would have, my response to question 2 notwithstanding.<br />
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4) What fictional character are you secretly in love with? <br />
Jane Eyre or Agnes (Copperfield). Tess.<br />
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5) What book have you read the most times in your life?<br />
The Lord of the Rings, although I still haven't read most of the poetry and the last reading was disappointing.<br />
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6) What was your favorite book when you were ten years old?<br />
The Chip Hilton series. Or Bronc Burnett. Sports.<br />
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7) What is the worst book you've read in the past year?<br />
I would say, but it might get back to the author. Let's go with Clifford, The Big Red Dog.<br />
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8) What is the best book you've read in the past year?<br />
Love in the Time of Cholera.<br />
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9) If you could force everyone you tagged to read one book, what would it be?<br />
Any PG Wodehouse.<br />
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10) Who deserves to win the next Nobel Prize for literature? <br />
No clue. Beyond my pay grade.<br />
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11) What book would you most like to see made into a movie?<br />
Somebody needs to give War and Peace the Masterpiece treatment. Or have they already? <br />
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12) What book would you least like to see made into a movie?<br />
Clifford, The Big Red Dog<br />
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13) Describe your weirdest dream involving a writer, book, or literary character. <br />
I dreamt Fred MacMurray was God. Does that count? He was wearing a polo shirt. I forget what he told me, which is a serious hole in this story. I'm sure there are better examples, but I'm drawing a blank.<br />
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14) What is the most lowbrow book you've read as an adult?<br />
The Harry Potter series, although, imho, it's not lowbrow. I haven't read too much trash. The book I didn't mention for question 7 would definitely qualify. I did read Bridges of Madison County, come to think of it.<br />
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15) What is the most difficult book you've ever read?<br />
Bleak House. Took me ten years. I'm not sure I finished it. The Unconsoled was not an easy read, but it's probably the most difficult book that I've read without too much trouble. It just fit my mood, I guess.<br />
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16) What is the most obscure Shakespeare play you've seen? <br />
Nothing too obscure. Maybe Bob, the Dentist from Padua?<br />
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17) Do you prefer the French or the Russians?<br />
For what? To read? Russians. Painting? French. Pastries? French.<br />
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18) Roth or Updike?<br />
Roth, I guess. I read Portnoy's Complaint for the first time this year. Haven't read any Updike for years. This question is a little vague, no?<br />
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19) David Sedaris or Dave Eggers?<br />
David Sedaris. Who is Dave Eggers? I should find out, I bet. I like Amy Sedaris, too.<br />
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20) Shakespeare, Milton, or Chaucer?<br />
Shakespeare. Doesn't he beat them all?<br />
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21) Austen or Eliot?<br />
Austen. For me, no one has a more pleasant tune. George Eliot, I assume? I liked the PBS Middlemarch production a lot.<br />
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22) What is the biggest or most embarrassing gap in your reading?<br />
I don't really retain anything I read. Too many bonks to the head. Haven't read lots of highbrow stuff. Proust, et al. Why bother if it's not going to stick?<br />
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23) What is your favorite novel?<br />
Any Austen, maybe. David Copperfield, once upon a time. Lonesome Dove. I dunno. The question is much too hard to answer.<br />
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24) Play?<br />
Waiting for Godot. Stoppard. Hamlet? Midsummer Night's Dream?<br />
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25) Poem?<br />
Poetry is beyond me. I always liked Hollis Summers' poem about the guy in other peoples' photographs. I'm sure there's one by Frost or Whitman I could cough up if pounded hard enough. Mike wrote one about silos in Midwest towns I always liked.<br />
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26) Essay?<br />
My favorite essay?? You're kidding, right? I sure like what Lewis Lapham's writing these days in Harper's.<br />
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27) Short story?<br />
Goodbye to All Cats, by PG.<br />
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28) Work of non-fiction?<br />
The Last Place on Earth. I dunno. I've read a lot of great books lately and in my life.<br />
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29) Who is your favorite writer?<br />
Jane Austen, PG Wodehouse. I really like Richard Russo, for someone still kicking.<br />
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30) Who is the most overrated writer alive today?<br />
Ann Coulter.<br />
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31) What is your desert island book?<br />
Firestarting for Dummies.<br />
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32) And ... what are you reading right now?<br />
House of Cards, William Cohan (also finishing Love in the Time of Cholera).(R)uffda!http://www.blogger.com/profile/03864414004459010046noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9025967423204710925.post-66525637519428867162009-04-07T19:07:00.000-07:002009-04-07T19:50:58.548-07:00#1 Rule in the HouseIt's always been "Don't Bonk Your Head." You might think there are more important rules which should have the #1 slot, but this is our house and you need to let us set our own priorities, dammit. Do I come over there and tell you how to arrange the socks in your dresser drawers? Well, yes, I do sometimes. Bad example.<br /><br />Why is this the #1 rule? you might ask. There's a simple answer: I bonked my own poor head way too frequently in the course of my accident prone youth, and I am decidedly the worse for all this melon thumping. If you know me, you know what I'm talking about. If you don't know me, it's probably because you heard stories and decided to keep your distance.<br /><br />My family -- that is, my mother and siblings -- tell me it all started with a fall from a slide in Athens, Ohio. I don't remember this event, since I was two or three or some such tender age (obviously too young to be climbing up the ladder of some giant slide while my so-called responsible brother and sisters stood around and watched). I also don't remember because I landed on my HEAD. My mother says I was crying when they brought me home, but I seemed "OK". Right.<br /><br />It was all downhill from that point. There were falls from bikes, blindside tackles in street football, an overthrown baseball in high school (I think I've mentioned that one), bullies -- but I won't bore you with the details. Suffice it to say that my brain has been rattled more often than any brain ought to be.<br /><br />Anyhow, that's why we have the rule. Everyone in the family -- in this case, the wife and daughters -- knows it. That's why there's not much sympathy being ladled out should a member of the household bonk her head. You break the rule, you deal with the pain. No whining.<br /><br />So what happens today? I'm taking the 3-year-old for a walk in Central Park (in Roseville, not NYC) and I let her have a go at the playground. First thing she does is smack her head going under a bridge in one of those sprawling plastic constructions they call a PlaySystem or an AdventureGround or The Leviathan. I don't see this accident, but I hear the sickening thud. She is dazed, needs a bit of comforting, but carries on. I go back to reading my paper. Next thing I know, she's on her stomach and wailing, over by some large rocks. Boulders, perhaps, is a better description. I rush over to find her forehead bruised and her nose scraped. <br /><br />"What happened?" I ask, a stupid question to put to a 3-year-old in distress. Getting nothing intelligible from her, I follow up with "What hurts?" <br /><br />It's her head, of course. She's managed to smack her forehead on one of the rocks, hard enough to start a bruise and for her to lose the gum she was chewing. We leave the gum where it sits, on the offending rock, a testament to her folly.<br /><br />I do not scold her, but I do remind her of the #1 rule, after the crying dies down a bit. This child treats her noggin as if she has another dozen in her closet. She's constantly banging it on tables, doors, toys -- you name it. She even managed to fall from the couch and come up with a button impaled in her forehead, and has a permanent scar to show for it.<br /><br />What is the point of rules if no one follows them? Why have I been subjected to a life of misfortune if I cannot steer my loved ones away from the calamities I have endured?<br /><br />It makes one wonder. Yep, it does. Until one forgets, as one is apt to do these days. What was I talking about?(R)uffda!http://www.blogger.com/profile/03864414004459010046noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9025967423204710925.post-19444365901703356892009-03-21T10:48:00.000-07:002009-03-21T11:20:44.223-07:00What's new?Several things, actually. Shall I list them? Why, yes, I shall.<br /><br />I found my shovel. Or I stole one just like it from the neighbors two doors down. My theory is that some ne'er-do-well transported it from our yard to the neighbors', where it was subsequently covered in accumulating snow until I happened upon it after the first good thaw. That's definitely what I'll tell the cops anyhow, should it come to that.<br /><br />I drove to Athens, Ohio with my mother, brother and 3-year-old. Two days to get there, five days being there, and two more days coming back from there. Next time it'll probably take a gun to my head. I'm sure they would all need the same motivation. Except for the 3-year-old. She's ready to go now. She liked the swimming pool a lot.<br /><br />Nothing much happening in the world of unemployment. I'm thinking of turning to a life of crime. The shovel was certainly easy enough to swipe. Why not set my sights slightly higher? Lawnchairs maybe. Garden gnomes. Swingsets.<br /><br />Still need to decide what I want to do with my life. CPA? Programmer? Lumberjack? I have to remember to add that to the To Do List.(R)uffda!http://www.blogger.com/profile/03864414004459010046noreply@blogger.com0