munich

Annie and Beth

Guten Tag!

I'm sitting in the lobby of a hotel in Munich, Germany typing this. I'm so far behind on blogging that I didn't even share the news of the family trip to Germany. I still want to go back and do a May wrap up (you have to see the photos of all of my birthday cakes!).

I'm traveling with my parents and both of my sisters and their husbands, Beth & Ron, Ann & Tim. 

We arrived around 9:00 this morning. We were proud of ourselves for figuring out how to get from the airport to the hotel - I love traveling by train and the 40 minute ride was a perfect way for us to sit down and get a grip. Mom and I stayed in Munich this afternoon while the rest of the group toured a castle. 

More later!

auction

I loved going to farm auctions when I was young. It was a good chance to mill around adults and have free rein to look through boxes and explore tables lined with stuff. I didn't have much interest in looking at tractors or kicking the tires on a Buick, but I did love opening the lid of a cigar box to see what treasures were waiting. And wondering how people could part with exotic things as salt and pepper shakers that looked like dogs or butter churns or old shop calendars. I could usually talk Dad in to bidding a quarter or fifty cents on a box of match books or stack of old magazines for me. Eating from the concessions trailer was also big news - and about as close as we ever got to fast food.

When I was older I realized that that farm auctions happen around life events: someone died, retired or moved to town. It took some of the fun out of it, but I've come to appreciate how the auction ties things together, almost like the funeral all over again. 

As sad as I knew it would be, I was looking forward to the auction of Uncle Cletus and Aunt Mary Alice's (she is at an assisted living facility in town) household goods. All of their grandchildren were coming to town. 

Dad and I drove up together in the rain and discussed what we'd like to buy. Dad really wanted one of the stainless steel stock pots and I knew that I wanted a rake or shovel or something that family hands held. 

Here is dad picking out his pot. The auctioneer was great and funny. I'm not sure whether it was the rain or the economy, but things were selling really low. 

My trusty rain boots came in handy, once again. Cass County got some crazy amount of rain, too much rain for the newly planted crops. 

Cousin Judi and her daughters Rachel and Brandi. 

Buck and Cousin Cynthia

I wound up with the Nativity scene. It was an accidental bid, but I'm happy that I have it. 

These safety glasses were in a box of treasures that Buck bought. 

Cynthia and I both had our sights set on these chairs - the one I got used to be in my great-grandfather's tavern. It is painted the same grey that my table and two chairs are. I wonder how many gallons of that utilitarian grey paint the Spitznogle's went through over the years - or maybe I just have the four things painted that color. The chair did have one minor problem. The legs were cut off about six inches, making it really short. I'm sure it was used for some chore and it made sense at the time. I also bought the double wash tub behind us. It will be a great drink cooler for backyard parties. 

Dad told us that his dad paid twenty-five cents for this "sled." That was dad's opening bid. Cousin Leo bought it. 

Luci, Sydney, Leo and Nina. 

I can't imagine how hard the sale was on "the kids." It was fun to have some laughter near the end. Dad and Nina were bidding on the same item. It turned out that Dad wanted the horse shoes and Nina a coat that was in the same lot, so they shared. There was a lot of trading going on. I bought a chair and Virgin Mary artwork. I really wanted the art and Angie wanted the chair - it was fun to be able to give it to her. 

I think all of the grand-kids and nieces and nephews that were there bought a garden tool. I got a potato fork and hoe.

Dad got the pipe organ parts and other miscellaneous church stuff. That screen is from a confession box. I was starting to wonder how we were going to fit all of our treasures in the Suburbian. Dad also bought several lots of lumber. 

At one point Dad bid fifty cents for something. The auctioneer told him he'd pay him the difference if Dad would bid a dollar. Here he is making good on his promise. 

Loading the truck was a little tricky. We stacked all of the lumber on the folded down back seat and wedged everything else in the back. There was no room for the pot so I held it the hour and a half home. 

Which was ironic, when I discovered my beloved MacBook was squashed under the load of wood. I'd worked on my column on the way down and left the computer in my bag on the front seat. At some point in the day, Dad decided it would be safer under a blanket in the back. He forgot about it, until I asked where it was. 

To my credit, I didn't yell or freak-out or cry, although I sure wanted to. But it was a long ride home with that damn pot rattling on my lap. And all's well that ends well. I'm writing this post on the laptop. 

For more photos click here. 

published!

I am a writer for a nationally published music and film magazine -- Ghettoblaster.

I hate to sound so unenthusiastic - I'm thrilled, really I am. It just feels a little anticlimactic. I was dying to talk about it earlier, but didn't want to jinx it. I wrote the four CD reviews this winter, one of them references getting stuck in the snow. They are my first CD reviews, ever. I am not good at being critical -- I'm amazed by anyone who can put themselves out there, so I hate to say anything bad about them. Nor am I good at obscure references: they sound like a cross between Jumbo the Elephant and Cindy Brady during a category 4 hurricane. Huh?

When I turned my piece in I fantasized casually walking by the music magazines at Northside Newsstand and saying, "why look, the spring issue of Ghettoblaster is in." I'd flip through the mag and say, "hey, who is this on page 42?, why it's me!" And then I'd dance around the store like a total geek.

The newsstand was the place I went to see my first column in the Broad Ripple Gazette, it was where I went to grab the NUVO with my first article. It was where I went to run my hands over the stack of NUVOs with my cover story - and made Joe take six pictures of me holding the paper proudly.

In my early days of writing, pre-wireless Internet, I'd write in the cafe side. If the shop was closed, I'd park in front and transmit my columns from the truck. In fact I started this blog late one night parked outside.

My writing success was directly tied to the newsstand. I'd produce it there and I'd get to grab the tangible product from a rack inside just days later. I can't even link to all of the times I blogged about (and from) the newsstand, but it does have its own sidebar label.

The magazine process was a little longer. I submitted the piece in January for the spring issue. Knowing it would not hit the stands before April did not stop me from walking by the spot where issue 20 was standing up proudly in it's slot surrounded by Spin and Paste and No Depression almost every single day.

Then the unimaginable happened. The big magazine distributor for Indiana went out of business. And there was not much reason to keep the newsstand open without magazines. They announced it with a sign on the door. As you can imagine I was getting phone calls and text messages right way. I contact one of the owners and offered to put a piece in my column, to let them tell the story in their own words. Something I would have appreciated with the coffeehouse closed (This post ties the relationship of the coffeehouse and newsstand together).

I was stunned when M. said "No!" I pointed out that I could read the sign from the sidewalk, so it was public knowledge. In an exchange of heated texts he asked me not to write about it. Ultimately I respected that, even though every other publication and several bloggers (Kirsten wrote a beautiful tribute) did. After I backed off and examined my feelings (something I'm not good at doing), I realized that I considered the newsstand a continuation of the CATH era. One more thing to let go of.

The newsstand closed the first week in March. The News Cafe continues to flourish and has expanded in to the extra space. You can still buy newspapers, candy and smokes there. Just not magazines.

I combed bookstores and the only other newsstand in the city I knew of for the latest copy of Ghettoblaster, but with the distributor gone, no one else had it either. I finally subscribed to the magazine - after ten years of buying all of my magazines at the newsstand, subscribing to something seemed like a foreign idea.

The day it arrived in the mail seemed anti-climatic.


And I'll admit to being a little nervous. What if I sounded like an idiot? I looked at the Photo magazine (a Christmas gift from a friend) and left the Ghettoblaster in the envelope until the next day.

When I finally read it I was happy with the blurbs - and thanks to my dear brother-in-law, Ron for editing them. I listened to the CDs in lots of situations; work, in the truck and at home. I think I did a good job, managing to say nice stuff even if I didn't love the music. The rating system was hard for me, but I know that everyone can't go home with a trophy. I loved Horse Feathers and gave them the highest rating. The other three were good, but not gold star worthy.

I showed it to mom and we made fun of some of the naughty band names. It felt more real when Tammy and Cara read the magazine when we were out one night.

Getting their stamp of approval means a lot. The fact that we could be silly made it all the more fun.

And, not to jinx it, but I'm doing twice as many reviews and maybe a feature story or two for the next issue. Maybe.

goals, goals, goals.

I've never been a goal setter and I think that is most of my problem. Oh sure, I'm good a short term goals - earn enough money to buy a camera, finish my column by the deadline, don't be late for work all week, don't punch anyone in the nose during a waitressing shift, don't snort in a committee meeting....but mostly, I suck at goal setting. 

Last year when I slogged my fat ass through the 500 Festival 5K walk (I was too out of shape to walk the half-marathon 13.1 mile race I'd signed up for) I vowed that I'd be in better shape the next year. I also thought it was be fun to highlight the 40 + bands that play along the route. It wasn't until July, when I needed a boost to get on a horse in Nebraska (and saw a photo of myself on that horse) that I came up with a concrete weight loss goal - 25 pounds. I almost fainted when I figured out that I had 25 pounds to lose! Me? Skinny kid Nora? Yikkes! 

I joined Weight Watchers online in August and it has been wonderful. I haven't been to a meeting but I faithfully record everything I eat and weigh myself at home. I reached the goal in March and have not gained any weight in the last three months. I would like to lose five more, but I'm pretty proud of myself.

 

I walked the Mini-Marathon in 3 hours, 42 minutes and reviewed and photographed all of the bands along the way. I had a blast! You can read my article here. Note my sports byline - wheee!

Now I need a new goal. Any ideas?

doris - 100!

My friend Doris turned 100 years old on April 27.

The neighborhood gang got together tonight to celebrate with pizza and presents.

Jeff and Doris

Jeff painted the Dogwood tree in Doris' backyard. Jeff used to live right next door (and I lived in Jeff's house for almost a year).

I love hearing her stories. I was able to take a lot of great notes.

Doris roller skated in her kitchen as a child, wearing her mother's skates, she'd also walk up and down the stairs with them on. Doris' dad was in the grocery business. She remembered two stores he ran. One was in Fountain Square on Sanders Street (very close to Second Helpings). She remembered a neighbor boy, Howard. One time they walked across several busy streets to get to the grocery store to retrieve a toy. Doris' dad could not believe they made it by themselves. In those days when people died the calling was at the home. A neighbor died and Doris and Howard picked a bouquet of dandelions and solemnly delivered them to the home.

When her mom died they were living above a store on Tacoma Street, so the viewing had to be at her grandfather's house. Doris remembers that house being at the corner of Michigan and Davidson streets.

Doris attended and boarded at the Saint Mary of the Woods Academy (now closed, there is a rule that a campus cannot house a high school and a university) from 1923-1927. There were very strict rules about dress - you could not walk though the Academy wearing pants. If they were horse back riding they would put a skirt on over the riding pants and drop the skirts at the door. If they were in a play cast in a male role, they could dress as a man but had to put a skirt over it.

In the pool they had to cover their arms and legs. They wore grey wool swimsuits and would put on white wool sleeves and black cotton stockings. After a few minutes the sleeves and stockings would be floating and the nuns would give up on having the girls wear them.

Doris' aunt and uncle took Doris in after her mother died. Her father remarried, but her stepmother would not let Doris live with them (hard to imagine now), so she stayed there. Her aunt and uncle adopted a foster child, Jimmy. He was adopted in 1914 or 1915 from the Sisters of Charity, who ran Saint Vincent's Hospital (where my grandmother and aunt lived and completed their nurse's training). She remembers the big wing-like hats and the light blue robes the nuns wore.

Jimmy had Fetal Alcohol Syndrome. They started noticing the symptoms in the first grade and he made it though his sophomore year of Cathedral High School. He never worked, but loved to ice skate and was part of a hockey team at the Coliseum. Doris remembers that Jimmy never liked to wear a hat, she finally got him to wear earmuffs when he was older.

Doris took care of Jimmy his whole life. He was alive when I moved in next door to them. He was suffering from dementia by then, on top of the FAS. Doris was heroic in her care of him. I was with them when he died. His funeral was full of laughter and stories. For years Doris had given Jimmy money to put in his envelope for offering at the church. The church secretary told her that for years Jimmy had written, "no thank you." Doris was mortified when she heard that! Neighbors told to Jimmy throwing trash and falling in to the mulch pit next door.

Doris had the full funeral package for him, including the viewing and a limousine to carry the family from the funeral home to the cemetery. Since most of Doris' contemporaries had died by that point I invited friends to come with us. My friend Kassie walked in to the wrong viewing at the funeral home, signed in and chatted with everyone before she realized she was in the wrong place. She got a thank you note from that family!

Christ the King Church has a great funeral ministry, proving singers and readers and people to attend the funeral mass. Doris' step-sisters were there also. It really was a lovely day.

And for the first time ever, Doris was living alone. She really thrived, gaining weight after the stress of taking care of Jimmy. She got her hair done every Friday, picking friends up that couldn't drive (you can imagine the crew, if Doris at 90 was the best driver) along the way. For a few years I was able to meet Doris and her gang for lunch. I need to dig out the photographs that I made poor Doris pose for in an old fashioned photo booth. It was a stand-up one and Doris had to stand on my stack of library books in order for the top of her head to be seen in the photos -- she was 4'11 at her tallest and I'm guessing that was in 1932. We both laughed so hard we were crying. I can't believe I made a then 93 year-old stand on a wobbly pile of books. Anything for the photo!

Doris moved out of her house six years ago and I'm ashamed to admit that I don't see her as often. Back when I worked at the coffeehouse I'd stop several afternoons a week. When I broke up with AVS, I sobbed and slept her sofa for days.

Doris is well read and up on current events. Swine flu was a big topic of conversation and it reminded Doris of the flu epidemic of 1918. Helen's grandparents died of the flu. It was fun to dive in to Helen's memories also. Helen was born in 1942 and was a teenager when Doris moved in next door. After Helen graduated from high school they often rode the bus downtown together. The street they lived on (Kessler Avenue) is now a major four lane thoroughfare. Helen remembers when it was not paved. The neighborhood kids would all gather on the only cement driveway on the street to skate.

Helen and Doris

Helen's mom, Bessie (who I also had the pleasure of meeting) was born in 1908. Bessie's uncle was a photographer in Fountain Square. We had fun thinking about the possibility that he photographed Doris when she was a child.

It was best Friday night I've had in ages.

april wrap-up

Holy guacamole! Only one other post in April? *Sigh.

I wish I could tell you it was because I had some big life-altering news, but nope, nothing out of the ordinary. Well, maybe a little bit - I joined a bowling league. Yeah, you read that right, I'm bowling, dude!

Might as well grab a snack, I'm going to recap the whole month in this post.

April 3: Dad and I ran up to Peru, Indiana - "The Circus Capital of the World" for cousin Lynne's surprise 50th birthday party.

Dad and Lynne

Part of the surprise was on us - I had the wrong time and venue.

Elk.

Luckily the VFW, Elks Club and Legion are all with in a blocks so we were in the right lodge in no time.

Lynne.

I've gotten to know Lynne much better in the last few years. Even though we are pretty close in age, I was always shy around her. I thought she was so much cooler, funnier and self-confident than I was. I discovered last year that she also loves Johnny Cash. For Christmas I gave her my autographed photograph of Johnny. I figured it helped make up for all of the gifts of underwear and crocheted tissue box covers she got as a child from her godmother, Aunt Eleanor. For her birthday I gave her a postcard that was sent to Grandma Nora in 1909. Lynne is a postal carrier, and I guessed (rightly so) that she'd appreciate it.

Lynne and cousin David. Dave and I are just four days apart in age.

It was a fun evening - I need to spend more time with the cousins.

April 4: Extreme Makeover: Home Edition wrap party. There is not much I'll get my Red Key shift covered for, but this was one of them. My friend Anne-Marie Dezelen puts on a hell of a party and she was in charge of this one (here's a reminder of the birthday party she threw for her husband).

I had fun rubbing elbows with the beautiful people. Anne-Marie did a fabulous job. You can see more photos here.

April 5-8: My house used to be a stop on the underground railroad of touring musicians. Hundreds of singer-songwriters have slept on my sofa. Seth Horan holds the record for the longest residency. I was thrilled that he stopped in Indianapolis for his three day tour gap between Saint Louis and Chicago. We had not seen each other in five years! In that time CATH closed, I started working at Second Helpings and writing. Seth had even bigger life changes - he's now married and is moving to California.

I had a blast having him around. We fell into our old friendship in a matter of minutes. And I forget how fun it is to have someone to do something with. As comfortable as I am doing stuff by myself, I enjoyed eating out and seeing music with him along. We heard everything from a guy with a playing a solo set on a Farfisa organ to Todd Rungren.

April 8: Dad's 73rd birthday. Dad's birthday fell on his Wednesday volunteer day, so we all sang Happy Birthday to him.

Dad told the group that Wednesday is his favorite day of the week.
Mine too.

April 11: Easter. I went to J.R.'s parish. My brother always "buys" the front pew at a church fundraiser and I sure do enjoying knowing where to find them in the church. Mass was at 9:30, which makes it a challenge to be all fresh and pretty after an ending at 3:00 AM smoky waitressing shift. I left my house at 9:00, which should have put me at the church with five minutes to spare. But I zigged instead of zagging and walked in at 9:33.

The doors to the church sanctuary were closed and there was an usher giving us latecomers the stink-eye. When the everyone stood up for the Gospel reading a family of four and I decided to make a break for it. The usher/security guard hesitated and chose to chase the family - they were moving slower, weighed down by the baby. I was able to slide in to the pew with J.R.'s friends and family.

June Bug and her little brother brought up the offerings. Those kids make my heart swell.

June Bug and Anna

We had a lovely brunch afterward. My friends were playing in the lobby -- thereby confirming my family's suspicion that I know every musician in town.

Circle Trio

Mom

There were plenty of games and things to keep the kids occupied.

April 12: Dyngus Day, or Easter Monday is also called Wet Monday in honor of the water based pranks that are traditionally pulled off on that day. I'm so happy we didn't know about that when we were kids. It was raining that day, so we got a good dose of the wet part anyway.

Bethie and me.

My dear South Bend-born brother-in-law Ron Trojanowski introduced our family to the holiday.

We've enjoyed the polka music and kielbasa at the Chatterbox Jazz Club the last several Dyngus Days.

Ron and Beth

Polka!

And proving that I cannot be left to my own devices, even for a minute I joined the Chatterbox bowling team (The Chatterbowlers) while I was there.

Thursdays: The Golden Gloves boxing matches are held at the Tyndall Armory.

This was the fifth year that I've had season tickets, and I tagged along with my friend Novella Nedeff for a few years before that. I have a hard time articulating why I enjoy the matches so much, but I think this photo helps sum it up. I get to sit behind two retired fireman, watch kids from the Christamore House box, eat popcorn and soak in all of the diversity our town has to offer.

April 16: CAR (Community Awareness Reception) turned in to a van for Second Helpings. J.R.'s friend Greg Eddy handed me the keys to a one-ton van at the reception!

A conversation in the cow barn at the Martin Luther King party led to a tour and the donation of a van for Second Helpings. I'm continually amazed by the generosity of my friends and the community. You can read more about it here.

April 16 and 17: Christamore House Guild Book and Author reception and luncheon. I went straight from the Second Helpings reception to the Christamore House Guild Book and Author reception. It was hard to know how to dress that morning. Sometimes fashion magazines will have pictorials of clothing suggestions that will go from "board room to ball room." The photos are of unnaturally beautiful woman wearing a designer suit that they whip the jacket off in the back of a chauffeured Town Car to revel a shiny beaded camisole. They add diamond earrings and even higher heels and step out of the car on to a red carpet.

They never write about how to dress for a nonprofit job and fancy-smancy party with real-live authors. And changing clothes in a S-10 pickup truck with manual transmission. I wore a top over my little black dress and boots. I whipped off the top added heals and raced to the party. I was so late the shuttle bus was bring people back to their cars. The grounds and house of the party hosts were amazing. The house was so big I had to send my sister in law a text to find her. And I never did run across a bar (apparently there were four).

I missed hearing the authors speak, which is my favorite part. But I did get me chat with Mary McGarry Morris. Her latest book, "The Last Secret" main character is named Nora. I can't wait to dig in to it.

The luncheon the next day is always lovely. It is fun to be a lady who lunches.

April 16-22: Ann was in Indianapolis. My youngest sister Annie was in town for a week. I didn't get to spend nearly enough time with her. We did get to have lunch with Mrs. Herr on Saturday.

Ann, Mrs. Herr, Beth, Nora

April 18: June Bug's First Holy Communion. It was a beautiful day. I can't believe how grown up and beautiful she is.

It was an amazing day. The whole family was together to celebrate this wonderful sacrament.

Beth, June Bug, Anna, JD, J.R., Ann, Ron, Mom, Nora, Dad

June Bug and Aunt Nora

Extreme Food Drive: The food kept pouring in all month. Last count 35,000 pounds!

April 28: Slumber party with Miss Katy. Her twin brother, Evan was having a heart procedure (everything went well, but he still needs a little more fine tuning), so Katy spent the night with me.

We had a grand time. I picked her up at her sitter's, my mom came over and we spent a few hours lovin' on her and then she went to sleep in the pack 'n play next to my bed. She slept for ten hours. I slept in ten minute increments - waking up to make sure she was still breathing. She's a beautiful sweet child. I look forward to watching them grow up.

And that folks, was the month of April.
If you want to read what I did music and event-wise. Click here and here.

extreme makeover: home edition

This week has been a total blast for me. I was a great way to shake off the winter doldrums.



Being out on the Home Makeover site every day was a real treat. The weather was not perfect (I was knee deep in mud at times) but it was great to be in the fresh air and around a real-live project that you could see progressing quickly. So much of what I do each day does not have an end or is not very sexy -- completing our insurance audit is not nearly as fun as watching a house be built in seven days.

After my Monday volunteering gig and having a media pass I knew my way around and explored every nook and cranny of the neighborhood. The neighborhood in general is in pretty bad shape. Lots of abandoned and unsafe houses.

The area went from a thriving blue-collar neighborhood in the 1960s, to one of the poorest parts of town after the loss of the railroad industry and the addition of two interstates (I-70 and I-65) running smack through the middle of the neighborhood. The highways geography divided the neighborhood. Desegregation of schools in the 1970s meant that kids were being bused outside of the neighborhood, diluting even more the sense of community.

That said, there are still a few neighborhood folks who really believed in the community. The Home Makeover recipient is one of them. Bernard McFarland is a single father of three teen-age boys. He grew up in the neighborhood and returned there after a four-year stint in the Navy. He and his sons were living in a house that needed some structural work and all three boys were sleeping on mattresses in one room.


Bernard started a mentoring group for children in the neighborhood. I had the privilege of attending a fundraiser for the family and hearing first-hand the impact he had on these kids.

One teenager said the most important thing he learned was, "how to dress." Can you imagine not having that parental over site? I swear my mom could tell from three counties away if I was wearing a slip. Other kids shared that they didn't know they could even think about getting an education beyond high school. Bernard was running the program out of a trailer next to his house. He now has a 900 square foot library in that spot.

I was blown away by all of the work Estridge Homes did in the neighborhood. They really went above and beyond for the community. Even the production crew that travels with the show said it was more than they'd ever seen done. One of my favorite coffeehouse customers and uncle to Ben and Kirsten was in charge of the peripheral work. I spent an evening following him around to see the projects.


By the time it was all over, Estridge (with the help of several vendors and donors) accomplished this:
Planted 1,200 trees.
Free internet access to 450 homes.
Donated 100 computers to neighborhood students.
Cleaned 30 streets of trash as well as yards, alleys and vacant lots.
Landscaped 22 homes.
Redressed 16 alleys.
Put new roofs on 2 homes
Demolished 2 abandoned homes. Put new siding on a church.
Worked with the city and local funders to create a community center from an empty school.

Brother J.R. This view is from the back of the house and library.

It is no wonder I stayed at the site until after dark every night. I was soaking up as much of the community spirit as I could. And I decided that I feel fairly at comfortable in a hard hat and boots.


And watching this guy (assistant director of the show) work didn't hurt matters any.

For more photos:
Home Makeover site Wednesday, April 1
Fundraiser at Butler's Hinkle Fieldhouse, Wednesday, April 1
Home Makeover site Thursday, April 2
Home Makeover site Friday, April 3