College Days and Beyond

Besides working every summer and during holiday breaks to secure money for my college education, I worked a number of jobs while on campus.

I ran track and cross country for two years hoping to secure an athletic scholarship but I gradually found out that such a thing was not going to happen. Scholarship were given only for football, basketball and wrestling at Iowa State with rare exceptions that my talent couldn’t meet.

But my track coach would occasionally find work for me cleaning up the grandstands after a home football game. So myself and several other jocks showed up on a few Sunday mornings, gathered up large sweeping brooms and climbed to the top of the grandstands and started to push all the peanut shells, popcorn boxes and various contra-banded empty liquor bottles and beer cans downward. Then the garbage was centralized and scooped up into trucks and hauled away. The problem was that there were so many of us, the job didn’t last very long, minimizing our actual take away pay.

I waited tables, first at Theta Delta Chi, my fraternity, then later at a sorority. I learned to always serve from the left, serve the women first when they were guests, and how to carry three plates at a time. Actually, I could carry five plates but the limit was 3 for the sake of proper waiter etiquette. But certain on rare days when the house mother was away, 5 plates it was. Of course most of the work was done after the meal was over. The job of dishwasher was rotated and while he was washing, the other two would help the cook put food away, dry the dishes, pots, and pans, and ret up the dining room.

I considered it an upgrade to secure a job with the wait staff at the Sigma Kappa sorority, even though my job was washing the pots and pans and the sorority was 3 blocks away from my fraternity. Usually there were only about 25 sisters and pledges to feed compared to about 40 at my fraternity. The difference made the job quicker and easier.

Considering that females at Iowa State were only 40 % of the student body, working at a sorority had some fringe benefits. At this particular time, the Sig Kaps were known to have many members that were less than beautiful and/or overweight. In fact the house mother was always trying to have her menu reflect small servings and healthy food. The result was that four guys in the kitchen ate about 30% of the food and 30 gals ate the other 70%. I was a good job all in all. Two of us were from the same fraternity and the other two were Phi Psis and we all got along very well.

A class mate and I worked in our department one summer on various projects. I remember one job was to eliminate the central belt driven motor for all the various machines used in the Ceramic Engineering department and add a motor for each machine. The machines had to have its individual concrete base poured for each motor and hook up the motor to the machine.

Later I did library research from one of my professor’s research project. I spent hours trying to find information about phase equilibriums of various materials.

One Fall I took part in the annual United Fund drive called the “The Ugliest Man on Campus” or UMOC. This was not a paying job, but it was associated with raising money. I put a silk stocking on my head and made a face and my photo was taken. Then 2000 flyers with my ugly face were printed up and distributed on bulletin boards across the campus. Voting is done by contributing to the United Fund, designating the person who is the ugliest as you gave. I had no hope of winning because large fraternities make sure one of their members wins by working hard to secure donations. But I finished a respectable 5th.
 

One of the worst jobs I ever had at college was setting bowling pins at the student union. I got paid $.35 a line, so if 4 persons bowled a set, I made $1.40. This was before automatic pin setters. Myself and my fellow pin setters would work two alleys at a time. We positioned ourselves between the alleys and when a ball and pins would come into a pit, we would move there, pick up the ball first and set it on the return rail and give it a little top spin so it would reach the collection stop. We would drop the hydraulic operated reset tray, pick up four pins at a time, two in each hand, and drop them into position. After a strike or second ball on a spare came through, the tray was dropped and a new 10-pin pattern was presented.

It was dangerous and dirty work. One pin-setter next to me lost a tooth, when a pin went flying and hit him in the face. The pit was extremely dusty due to the constant abrasion of pins against pins, and pins against bowling ball combined with neglectful janitorial service.

I developed calluses on both hand between my third and fourth fingers where I grabbed the second pin. And my back was sore from the constant bending down and raising up. So the job was physically demanding, environmentally unpleasant, and dangerous.

I do remember a few incidents that while embarrassing at the time, cause me to smile every time I recall them. One time I hurried too quickly to return the ball to the return track by applying top spin before the ball was securely on the track, causing the ball to jump off the track, bounce unto the lane, and cause a collusion with a ball just delivered by a bowler hoping for a strike. “Bonk” resounded very loudly and could be heard several alleys away.

Another time I got out of sync, thinking the bowler already had thrown two balls, and I lowered the re-set tray prematurely just in time for the ball to smack the tray. The two make an interesting clanging sound when they meet. And the bowler let out a roar, probably because he thought the ball would have been a strike. And perhaps he was right.

Believe me when it came time to graduate, I looked forward to a life as a professional engineer and a nice income. That worked out pretty well, until 30 years later when I was out of a job and started to work at Jewel supermarket, stocking grocery shelves while I sought employment in engineering.

After 18 months not being employed in the engineering field, I was able to reinvent myself as an Environmental Engineer, a field I worked in for my remaining professional life. As it turned out, it was a thoroughly interesting second career.

I have had many different jobs in my life and to use one of my favorite mantras to close this saga, “everything counts in life”. Without all these experiences, I would be a different person than I am now.

Going Downhill Fast

“Dave, we need someone to go over and race with the class “D” group.”

I had started skiing about 3 years before, taking my first ski lesson at Greek Peak, a small ski area near Cortland, New York, half way between Binghamton and Schenectady. My girl friend’s home town was Cortland and she was a part owner of a condo just across from the ski area on the town’s outskirts. At that time, Patricia and I were involved in a new and exciting romance. We met because I was friends with her ex-husband and when I moved the family to Lancaster, PA, she was there, she was strikingly beautiful, and we were both single. We had much in common and loved active sports. What was not to like?

During Thanksgiving weekend 1979, we drove up to Greek Peak with my daughter and her two sons, to spend a couple of days on the slopes. Talk was that my daughter, Kristi and I would rent ski equipment and take beginner lessons together, while Patricia went skiing with her sons. And so it happened.

I was both anxious and exhilarated to begin skiing. I had never been remotely close to skiing and never even knew anyone that was a skier until I met Patricia, other than her ex-husband. Burnt in my memory forever, is how awkward I felt when boards were put on my feet and I was asked to then walk sideways up a very slight knoll to begin my first descent.

Kristi and I were athletic and determined to become comfortable with the label of “skier” and after many failed attempts to remain upright we were soon making turns with our skies formed in the shape of a wedge. As I progressed in honing my incipient skills I realized that skiing is all about overcoming fear by gaining both skill and confidence motivated by desire to succeed. Soon I was able to advance to the chair lift and the bunny hill.

A year later I was able almost keep up with Patti. She was an elegant and graceful skier while I relied on brute strength and courage trying to master both speed and control. Many times losing control resulted in spectacular wipe outs resulting ski, poles, hats, gloves, and goggles flying off in various directions with me bravely struggling off still another bruise. One morning while on a week long ski trip, I was so sore and beat up that I had difficulty getting out of bed. I decided than and there that I would devote my efforts to mastering more control and sacrifice some speed.

Eventually my days living in the East came to an end and a couple of years later, our romance finally ended also, but the skiing stayed with me and remains to this day.

“Dave, we need someone to go over and race with the class “D” group.” It is March 1983 and I am on a Midwest bus weekend ski trip with Fort Wayne Ski Club. The person talking to me is the race captain for the club. We are at Boyne, Michigan and all ski clubs that belong to the Indiana Ski Council have descended there for a weekend of ski racing, drinking, and making out as much as possible.

I explain to the race captain that I have never raced before but that does not dissuade her from enlisting me. I am given instructions where to go and soon I am standing in line with a numbered paper racing bib on my chest waiting to go as fast as possible around poles with flags on the top and to do so without falling down.

By this time, I have had time to size up some my competition and it is pretty plain to me that I can ski as well or better than most of them as determined how they looked skiing over to the starting area. Thankfully, I was not one of the first to plunge down the slope so I have a chance to observe what some of the better skiers did.

It seems that there was this wand across the starting place and as soon as your legs push through it, the timer clock starts running and there is an electric eye at the finish line, which stops the clock when you break the beam. So from my observation point, the goal was to get going as fast as possible at the start.

When my turn comes, I place my poles over the starting wand and as I wait briefly to hear that the course is clear, I try to think, “breathe out fear, breathe in energy” to try to eliminate my considerable anxiety. Suddenly I hear, “go when ready racer” from the starter. I push out with all my strength and skate hard towards the first pole. Around the first 3 flagged poles (I learn later to talk them “gates”) I go, trying to look ahead and see the next challenge. I am picking up speed as the slope gets steeper. At the fourth gate, my instinct takes over and my weight goes to the tails of my skies causing to spin 180 degrees and almost fall down. I turned about as fast as possible and continued until the 8th gate where a reoccurrence took place. I recovered again and continued on through the finish line, disappointed that I didn’t do better, but I heart was pounding and I felt the adrenalin kick in. “Wow, I want to do that again, I know I can do better”, were my thoughts.

And so it began. Later that night at the awards banquet, medals were handled out for the first 10 places in each racing category. I came in 9th even with all the mistakes I made and I was amazed. Obtaining a 9th place medal in the lowest race class helped me realize I had potential.

Two years later I won the ski club’s “Most Improved Skier” award and also the Veteran Men’s Challenge Cup for my overall season performance. My name was engraved on the club’s huge Challenge Cup and I was presented a miniature cup to keep. I got to keep the big cup for a year and fortunately I had a fireplace mantel to give it prominence.

When I came to Chicago and joined Lake Shore Ski Club, I was soon well known because I started winning the club’s ski races dethroning the long time champions. This in turn led to becoming the club’s president as well as several other positions within the club. I became a certified ski instructor when I retired and I also met my wife on a weekend bus trip.

I have a trophy case filled with medals and trophies and sitting in the center is my 9th place medal in honor of how it all started.

Skiing is a life sport and if there is a desire to improve it is possible. So as I complete my 30th year skiing, I am positive that I continue to improve, not only as an all around skier but on the race course also. It probably it unrealistic to think this will continue, but I really don’t want to think about it. Not now anyway, I am having way too much fun.

Thank You for the Music, ABBA.

On my daughter Vikki’s birthday 3 weeks ago, I thought of a comment she made to me about ABBA, the Swedish rock group.

Both daughters, Vikki and Kristi, encouraged me to start a blog so I could post my travelogue stories and pictures of the many places I have visited. So I set up a blog and filled out my profile. The profile had a place for my favorite music and among the listing of Pink Floyd, Yes, The Stones, Billy Joel, The Eagles, Loggins and Messina , and so forth, and I added ABBA.

When Vikki read this she wrote me a one word question. ABBA? I am not sure exactly why the question but I assumed it was either that she didn’t know that I liked ABBA, or ABBA did not appeal to her high standards of music or she didn’t feel ABBA fit in with the others in my list.

I wrote back to her that I would answer her question in a future post on my blog. So here goes.

During the mid-80’s, I lived in the Soviet Union for about 6 months, spending most of my time in Voronezh, Russia, with temporary stays in Vilnius, Lithuania, and Moscow. Actually I got to Moscow several times, one or two weeks at a time. But that left plenty of time to while away the long, dark, cold winters days and nights in Voronezh.

Vilnius and Moscow were capitol cities and even in the dieing days of the Soviet Union, one could find time to eat caviar, drink Champagne, trade shots of vodka with the men, and dance with the women. In fact, I had a blast, greatly influenced by the lovely and vibrant companionship of Natasha when in Moscow.

Voronezh was 200 miles south of Moscow located on the Don River where forests were so thick, the Tsar created the Russian Navy there due to the available lumber and access to the Black Sea and Mediterranean, Outside of the circus coming to town or an occasional night club (if you want to call it that) or going to the ballet whose dancers were class “C” leaguers to reach the Boishoi big league. Most everything else was ennui.

 I brought in a lot of jig saw puzzles to work on and I finished them all, never to ever want to put one together again. A hot shower in the morning was almost impossible as the water came from a central system in another part of town. I couldn’t be heated fast enough to supply the need in the morning and of course there were the heat losses that occurred between loci.

The place I worked was never warm enough and my nose was cold all day except when I could stick it over a steaming hot bowl of watery soup provided at lunch. None of meals in Voronezh provided any sort of culinary delight accept the pizza I made from a boxes of Pillsbury Hot Roll Mix from my suitcase, plus tomato sauce, garlic, cheese, and sausage all locally available sometimes, When I saw any of these things, I bought them right then because tomorrow they would be gone. Even without the oregano, they were tasty and American.

And with me in Voronezh and Natasha in Moscow, the lack of a warm body next to me at night certainly was a minus. Physical contact with someone is part of my mantra of how to achieve a happier life. It was missing. So in summary, I was cold, lonely and bored.

ABBA was first popular in Europe at that time and I was able to hear ABBA sing “Dancing Queen” and “Take a Chance of Me” in the night spots and sometimes on the short wave radio. Granted they are not the mood changer that Mick Jagger can be, but I found there songs uplifting. They were a small, but important improvement to my days and nights. During an R and R week outside the Soviet Union, I bought a portable tape player and some tapes of ABBA and Pink Floyd and took them in with me.

When I left the Soviet Union I gave the player and tapes with Natasha and she gave me 3 small jars of black beluga caviar. I was not happy to leave her.  I am so thankful we met and shared our lives with each other. I will not ever forget her.

For many months after I returned to the U.S. whenever I heard ABBA my thoughts never dwell on the loneliness, coldness, or boredom but only the good times I had. So ABBA, “Thank You for the Music”.

"Forgiving Dr. Mengele"

My thoughts after seeing a film in a class about "forgiveness."

The movie "Forgiving Dr. Mengele" was documentary about a woman, Eva Kors, who survived Auschwitz and Dr. Mengele.

In order to be free of the terrible mental pain afterwards, she found a way to forgive the people that were so cruel to her and in so doing released the pain inside and found peace. She was so strongly convinced that if others when through the process of forgiveness (please do understand it is a process) that she lectured the world over.

I had a lot of therapy in my late thirties. I had alot of anger inside me and in therapy I released it gradually, and not without a lot of resistance to doing so, my re-feeling it and directing it at the images of my parents. And after repeating the process over and over, the pain mostly went away and I found as though I crossed over to another side. I found peace and as a byproduct forgiveness toward my parents came with it.

Forty years ago my wife died suddenly. The key element of my successful grieving process was to direct all my anger towards her first, then me second. And in so doing I was able to forgive her and then myself.

The documentary didn't show any part of the steps involved in getting to forgiveness. It didn't show the hard, long and painful getting over process necessary to get to the forgiveness part.

The key to the path of forgiveness therefore, is to confront the anger aggressively, feel the pain associated with it, and after awhile forgiveness comes. But one will never find forgiveness without acknowledging the anger and dealing with it. One can not just decide to forgive, it doesn’t work that way.

Many in the class, during the following discussion period, seemed to find it strange that forgiveness should be an endeavor to want to achieve. The film showed a courageous woman more than it showed how to achieve forgiveness. Many didn't even believe the woman truly had forgiven.

But then, they probably didn't go through therapy

John Wayne, We Need You Now!

Born in Winterset, Iowa as Marion Morrison, the man eventually became a movie icon known as John Wayne.

Director John Ford used John Wayne as his leading man in many of his films to portray his vision of manhood as he thought should be practiced. Wayne seemed to be perfectly cast to be the tough, courageous leader who was honest, direct, and had high marks for integrity and not over thinking any problem. In his films, doing the right thing was always easy even if it was wrong. His roles also showed that a man could be caring and warm inside as long as he guarded these traits with discretion.

It is easy for me to image that when an actor becomes famous and beloved for projecting himself on the big screen in a certain way repeatedly, that eventually the man inside the actor changes to become the image itself. The image then becomes the guiding force behind public behavior and is carefully crafted and protected to secure an outgoing career and/or the need to be loved. And if the image is treated with nuance and skill, it always appears to be real.

So Marion, nicknamed Duke after his dog, became chariamticJohn Wayne. And the image John Ford and John Wayne created evolved into a representative symbol and, in the public’s eye, the symbol became the man. They became merged, symbiotically integrated, fused into one, the man and the legend.
John Wayne the actor or the man never seemed to be put into a situation where a problem was complex and answers were not obvious. That’s why the answers to the Viet Nam War were simple for the man. He was anti-communist and he previously joined with Senator McCarthy leading the effort to purge Hollywood of communists. He bought into the domino theory, supported Nixon at the time even though the country was changing.

Now there is no doubt that Duke always supported the troops but what American doesn’t, regardless of his politics. But supporting the troops is far different than supporting a foreign policy that cost the lives of thousands of people bringing hardship to thousands more, and engaging in a war that, in reality couldn’t be won. And it is hard for me to accept patriotism in the form of supporting the House Un-American Activities which seems to me to be one of the darkest moments in our history and is counter to what our Consitution states in clear language.

But when Kennedy defeated Nixon, he said this, "I didn't vote for him but he's my president, and I hope he does a good job."
To me that sounds like a true patriot.
Let’s contrast this against the current brand of right wing Republicanism. People of this ilk, are doing everything possible to see that President Obama can’t do a good job for if he succeeds, it will impact their re-electability. They promote an aura of fear and a depth of their courage that would do Chicken Little proud. They themselves are frighten by the spector of having detainees sent to Illinois or to have one of extremists tried in New York. And every now and then, former VP Chaney crawls out of his bunker to sound the alarm that we should continue the polices that infringe upon our civil rights, support torture, and help recruit young men to turn whose goal is to harm us. Since most Americans have not idea of what consistitutes what can be called, “a healthy mind”, let me inform those unaware, that Dick Chaney is mentally ill. He is, and if you look and listen to him with that in mind, you will realize that I am right.
If a genie were to grant me three wishes, I would use one of them to bring back John Wayne to show us the wholesome courage and we grew to love about him I would ask him to help eliminate the policies of fear and tell the world that you “may not have voted for President Obama, but he is my president, and I hope he does a good job.”

That, pilgrim, is what a patriot would do.

I Can Dance-Finale

I can’t really end my stories about my career at Arthur Murray’s without talking about some significant events that occurred during and beyond.

Miss Wadley

While at the studio everyone was always addressed formally. No first names were ever used. I now have no remembrance of Miss Wadley’s first name although I did know it at one time. She had recently retired after a lifetime working at Union Pacific Railroad when she first came into the studio. She wore black old lady shoes and usually a black dress, to cover a pronounced pear shaped form, when she first became my student. She had never been married. Sometimes she didn’t smell the best. She didn’t have a sense of rhythm. When asked to do a waltz step by herself, the rhythm was slow, quick, quick, instead of even tempoed steps of 1,2,3.

Naturally, given all the potential available, I looked forward to our twice a week sessions once the odor problem went away, which was soon. We soon became professional friends. As she improved in all areas, the power of positive reinforcement was so greatly dramatically demonstrated that I never forgot it. Constance encouragement on my part and desire to improve on her part was a winning combination. At one point we performed a solo waltz together at a dance party and she followed perfectly. Later she became a life time member and the commission I received as a result went into my slowly building saving account. When I left the studio I knew she would enjoy many years of dancing in her ankle strap shoes and colorful clothes with perfect rhythm.

Pat Carter

The owner of the studio also owned 4 other studios and due to lack of profitability, closed the studio in Grand Island, Nebraska and the teachers there were transferred to one of the two Omaha studios. Among them was this good looking, skinny, naive girl, Pat Carter. She came from a very small village near Grand Island and looked to get out into the world so moving to Grand Island was a big step for her. Omaha was another giant step forward for her. She was anxious to fit in, but it was challenging because she was not yet 21 although at times she got into the club the instructors went to after work to dance.

We started to spend most of our spare time together and of course all day and most of the night at the studio. Before long we became engaged. I had made the decision to return to college and continue my quest to secure an engineering degree. I didn’t want to go without her so we got married just before Thanksgiving. All the teachers and the studio owner as well as some of our students attended the reception held at my mother’s house. And of course, Miss Wadley was there. Leaving the studio, my fellow teachers, and students was not an easy thing to do. There was some promise that I could have advanced up the rank and file and had a career at Arthur Murray’s. We both had developed close and warm relationships with all the people and there was a void to fill as we left.

My mother constantly encouraged me to return to college in order to secure a better future for myself. And I did see the logic of her argument and upon my re-admission being accepted, off we went to Ames, Iowa to get me re-enrolled at Iowa State, find affordable lodging, and find Pat a job on campus.

The rode ahead was not easy. I took all the jobs I could find and worked hard on my studies. With one more year to go, we found out Pat was pregnant in August 1958. We lived in a basement apartment and awoke in the middle of an October night to find the house was on fire. We escaped all right, although my hair got singed. We were able to recover most of our belongings because the fire was put out quickly although everything smelled of smoke.

In three days I had to leave on a required senior vocation trip to visit factories in Illinois, Iowa, and Missouri. Kindly neighbors put Pat up for the week while I was gone. We found lodging in Kelly, Iowa some 10 miles away. Our new lodging was cheaper, but the extra cost of gasoline even things out.

In March there was a big snow storm we were snowed in. Somehow a rumor got started in the little burg of Kelley that Pat was in labor. Two men with anxious eyes knocked on our door to inform us that they would help us get her to the hospital in Ames by clearing roads ahead of our car. Two days later Pat did indeed go into labor. Pat’s labor lasted about 40 hours. I spend most of two days in the waiting room listening to various women scream their way to delivery as their husbands abandoned me to go their prodigy.

Finally our son decided he had had enough dilly-dallying and popped out. I can still recall the relief I felt. My wife was exhausted but both mother and child were well and safe.

From then on the rest of the school year went smoothly, I graduated, and the first week in June, we loaded our car and small trailer with our entire belongings and headed to Dayton, Ohio, where I had accepted an offer to work at Frigidaire.

Throughout the years, occasionally, I taught people to dance and got paid to do so. I even started working part time at the Arthur Murray studio in Muncie, Indiana to pick up a little extra change and refresh my repertoire. I believe dancing open doors for me that never have closed. Should anything ever happen to my wife, I fantasize that I would obtain work on a cruise ship and charm rich ladies around the dance floor, occasionally discretely accepting their room keys as a token of their gratitude. Once in their room they would give me a great foot massage and offer me a warm glass of milk. The nice thing about a fantasy is that it doesn’t have to be acted out or take place for the mind to enjoy its image. So in some recess of my mind, I will always be moving gracefully along the dance floor.

Seeing Macau in 6 Hours

While in Hong Kong we took a side trip to Macau, something I didn’t get done when I lived in HK. In the 80”s it was still under the control of the Portuguese and it had the reputation of having a lot of gambling and sex available. Today the gambling has greatly expanded and the sex has gone underground.

Judith did visit in the 80’s and she says Macau has expanded probably at the same order of magnitude as HK has. Casinos are of the same ilk as those in Vegas, big and gaudy. And the old town of two story houses and shops, along narrow winding streets, are being crowded out to make way for new high rises.

We begin our journey by taxi to the western side of Kowloon and purchase tickets for the large hover craft, After going through passport control we board we find all seats are reserved and we find ours along the outside of the boat. The seats are cushiony fake leather with plenty of leg room. Almost are nice as sitting in business class on an airplane. The sea is calm and we scoot along the coast line observing various small islands and boats. Soon we disembark and go through customs and are quickly approached by a native tourist guide who speaks excellent English. He shows us his brochure outlining some the sites we should see within 2 hours which will end us up at the historic center of the city where we can slow down as see many things of interest.

One of first things we see is the Macau Tower which offers panoramic views of the city and has a convention center and restaurants and has added a bungee jump. In the back ground is the Sai Van Bridge which connects a couple of smaller islands that are part of Macau. These islands are where even more casinos, hotels, and resorts are being built.

Next we roll by the Kun Iam Ecumenical Center along the outer harbor. The Goddess of Kun Iam (Goddess of Mercy) is made of a special bronze. Information about Buddhism, Taoism, and Confucianism are available there.

We make our way up one of larger hills in the city to the Chapel of Our Lady of Penha founded in 1622 by crew and passengers of a ship which narrowly escaped capture by the Dutch. It was rebuilt is 1837.

We ended our tour at the façade of St. Lawrence church which burned up except for the front. It is one of the main tourist attractions now. Next to it is an old fort and we climb the many steps up only to find out there is an escalator on the opposite side of the hill.. We use it on the way down.

We walk to the center of the historic city where this fountain has been a main stay for many years. The architecture of the building in the background is typical of that during the colonial Portuguese rule. Note always the black and white swirls in the street of the pedestrian mall.

This last church of note we visited was St. Dominic’s Church built is 1590’s. The church has a violent past. In 1644 a Spanish military officer was murdered during mass for being against the Portuguese and in 1707 the friars locked themselves in and pelted soldiers for three days with rocks. The soldiers were sent to enforce the excommunication orders issued by the local bishop who had a dispute with the pope.

We had a relaxing, enjoyable lunch at a western style restaurant just off the square, then headed back to HK.The next morning I captured the sunrise out our hotel window.

The sun is just lighting the tallest building.

Walking the Freedom Walk

Boston was where the American Revolution and the birth of our country began. I consider myself a patriot and one who has a deep appreciation of the freedoms we enjoy as a result of the courage and sacrifices of a few brave souls. I came to Boston to walk the Freedom Trail but I had no idea how much it would renew my faith in the greatness of our country. History came alive for me this weekend in Boston.

We stayed at the Parker House, the oldest continuous hotel in America, since 1855, with a large room next to the John McCormick Suite (former speaker of the House). Parker House is the home of the Parker House Rolls and the Boston Cream Pie. It was here where the brightest lights of America’s Golden Age of Literature — writers like Emerson, Thoreau, Hawthorne, and Longfellow — regularly met for conversation and conviviality in the legendary nineteenth century Saturday Club. It was here where baseball greats like Babe Ruth and Ted Williams wined, dined, and unwound. And it was here, too, where generations of local and national politicians — including Ulysses S. Grant, Franklin Delano Roosevelt, John F. Kennedy, and William Jefferson Clinton — assembled for private meetings, press conferences, and power breakfasts.

Two cultural icons and notable revolutionaries spent time on the Parker House staff: Vietnamese leader Ho Chi Minh served as a baker in the bakeshop from 1911 to 1913, and
Malcolm Little (remembered as black activist, Malcolm X) was a busboy in the early
1940s, during the period of the Pearl Harbor invasion.

Our first night at the hotel, we stopped into the hotel’s bar, the Last Hurrah, (where JFK proposed to Jackie) and had some Boston Cream Pie. It was delicious and unlike any other so called Boston cream pie I had ever tasted. It had both a crispness and lightness that was unmatched.

The Parker House is right on the Freedom Trail. Just down the street is a statue of Ben Franklin, who was born in Boston and attended Boston Latin School on the site, now occupied by the Old City Hall.

And at the end of the block, was the Old South Meeting Place, which was the site of the protest against a tax on tea Dec. 16, 1773 and later that night the Boston Tea Party was held.

The next morning off we went, borrowing two umbrellas from the hotel, following the red brick road.

We then went to the Old State House, where the first public reading of the Declaration of Independence was made and JFK first announced his candidacy for President. Then we visited the Boston Massacre Site where British soldiers killed 5 men who were protesting the occupation of the British, including Crispus Attucks, whose death was greatly romanticized as the first man to die in what led to the American Revolution. Attucks was of mixed race, part Indian, part black African but during the civil rights movement he suddenly became one of the most important men in African-American history.From there we walked a short distance to Faneuil Hall known as the “Cradle of Liberty”. Faneuil Hall has served as a marketplace and a meeting hall since 1742. Funding was provided by a wealthy merchant, Peter Faneuil, for the construction and local artisan to create the grasshopper weather vane that still perches on the building's cupola. Inspirational speeches by Samuel Adams and other patriots were given at Faneuil Hall. These oratories became the footstool for America's desire to obtain independence from the British.

Onward we trudged to Paul Revere’s House which is Boston’s oldest clapboard frame house. Then, the Old North Church. where Revere saw there were two lanterns shining from the steeple and along with other riders, went to warn the Minute Men that the British were coming by sea towards Lexington and Concord.

By then our feet were soaked and we were ready for some clam chowder and on our way back to the Parker House, we stopped and ate at the Union Oyster House, America’s Oldest Restaurant. For dinner we went down to the one of the restaurants listed in the book “1000 Places to See Before You Die”, the Legal Sea Foods. It was crowded and properly noisy and the food was excellent.

The next day, we traveled in the other direction from the hotel to see the Boston Commons, the State House, and Park Street Church, the Granary Burial Ground and the King’s Chapel.
The burial ground contains the graves of Paul Revere, John Hancock, Samuel Adams, and the victims of the Boston Massacre.

We then took a taxi to the JFK Presidential Library and Museum.

We took the subway back to our hotel, then got a taxi over the bridge to see the USS Constitution which is the oldest commissioned was ship in the world. It was built in 1797 and was nicknamed “Old Ironsides” and earned fame in the War of 1812.

Here is a painting taken from the small museum on site which shows the ship at full sail.

Outside of attending a Red Sox game at Fenway Park, we saw and experienced a lot of Boston. Walking the Freedom Trail was all it should be and I hope everyone will have the opportunity to have the experience.

Shanghai-Pearl Tower

On our return to Shanghai from Hangzhou, we check into the Hyatt on the Bund hotel for a 2 night stay. We have lunch in the hotel with the full entourage and then find a place to have a full-body message. When we arrive we find this short street is filled with high end message places mostly catering to tourists and other westerners. After the long trip from Hangzhou, the massages were both refreshing and restoring.

The next morning I told this picture out our window.
The building with the hole at the top is the Shanghai World Financial Center, third tallest building in the world and the structure looming in the foreground is the Oriental Pearl Tower. The Financial Center is actually taller than the Pearl Tower.

Our tourist objective is to visit the Pearl Tower on this day. We travel by taxi through the tunnel under the Huangpu River and get dropped off at the tower.

As we learned each of the 3 balls on the tower was a place to visit. The 2nd ball had a restaurant, and every stop had many souvenir shops. Outside of the spectacular views the entire experience was just so-so.

The Bund is on the left of the bridge over the river and our hotel is on the right behind the building with the light blue roof.

Looking south.

From the ground.

One of the best things about the Pearl Tower was the museum on the ground floor that had full pictorials of the colorful history of Shanghai. Remember old movies that had these cars?

Later that night the we were sitting in the club room having drinks with I saw that a full moon was rising and was about move so it shown through the hole at the top of the Financial Center. I doubt that this photo can be duplicated very often.

Hong Kong-Memories from the 80's

I have many good memories each time I visit Hong Kong. I lived here for 5 months in the middle 1980’s working for a company that was put together for the purpose of selling color picture tube technology to the Chinese. An enterprising Greek man, who formerly worked at Zenith, somehow associated himself with a Chinese man and woman who formed Lotus Engineering. Nick hired me after an interview at the Hyatt near O’Hare due to my 18 years experience at RCA and having worked in the Soviet Union providing technical assistance setting up color tube manufacturing plants spanning 3 different cities. That is another rich tale that deserves a future exposure.

I was unemployed at the time and living in Rockford, IL and my future job opportunities looked extremely dim at the time. So I jumped at the chance in spite of having to leave my three children in their early 20’s to fend for themselves.

In those days, a trip to Hong Kong on United Airlines from Chicago required a flight to Seattle first, then a plane change and depending on the head winds, a refueling stop at Midway Island or Guam. The old Hong Kong airport was one of the most difficult to negotiate with surrounding buildings and a short runway.

Soon after I arrived I found permanent lodging in a high rise in Discovery Bay on Lantau Island, which was accessible only by boat. My view over looked the beach below and the western end of Hong Kong island. There were always boat of many sizes anchored between Hong Kong and Lantau islands, and a constant variety to the panoramic view. At times the mist and fog prevented any view at all, especially in the mornings. The best vistas were always contained a small amount of sea mist which always helped to promote the idea of mystical intrigue and adventure were available to all that dared venture out.

There are two modest size hover-craft boats that transport residents of Discovery Bay to the main island. This is how I went to work 6 days a week and return to my apartment except when the hover craft broke down. Normally, the ride is about 20 minutes but in heavy seas somewhat longer. After disembarking from the hover craft, I take a short walk to the Star Ferry terminal and board the ferry to across over to Kowloon. Then, either a 10 minute walk past the historic Peninsular Hotel or a 5 minute bus ride is chosen to travel to the South Seas Towers in Tsim Sha Tsui and then up the elevator to the top 10th floor, and I was at my desk.

The Hong Kong I experienced is long gone. Street food vendors once tempted passer-bys with charcoal fired woks emanating aromas of garlic, peanut oil, fried pork or chicken, bok choy and other exotic vegetables or fruit. If you weren’t too facetious, in 5 minutes a delicious meal could be purchased at a very reasonable price. And you got to watch the chef all the way.

Gone is the Hot Lips Bar romanticized by an article in the New Yorker magazine referring to reminiscences of the movie “World of Suzie Wong”. One executive guest, I took around to see the city, wanted to go there. Soon after we entered the Hot Lips, we sat down in a large booth, the required escorts came and sat down next to us, the obligatory watered down drinks came and we of course we gladly paid. The escorts were definitely not comparable to Susie as their glow of youth had now to be applied with brushes, but they were reasonably attractive and had good teeth.

Soon after the second round, my visiting exec began to negotiate with mama-san to pay her for the loss of the escort’s time the rest of the evening. He slapped down some bills and soon he walked out with the seamstress by day, mystery woman by night.

Sure this sort of thing still goes on, but the circumstances will never quite be the same. The Hot Lips Bar is gone, but not the memory.

Most of Tsim Sha Tsui had changed into brightly lit modern shops with clean floors and spaced out merchandise. There are no places to buy ivory anymore, not that I ever wanted to buy any. Fake Rolexes and other counterfeits were openly displayed although in the rear of the store. Shady street people appearing on almost every corner could offer a nice looking watch for about a dollar. I always had the feeling of knowing I was going to be ripped off if I bought anything and was always careful to find an honest merchandiser.

Tailor shops abounded on Nathan Road and a man of Indian descent always stood outside enticing me to buy a silk suit made in one day. It was always assumed I was a tourist and had to leave in a couple of days. There were warnings that getting a one day suit would not fit as well as one that took 3 days and had final details ironed out on the 2nd day. I did buy a silk tailored shirt that was made to my longer than normal arm length but the warm weather of Hong Kong didn’t make owning a lot of suits an attractive deal.

There were still rickshaws that operated around the Star Ferry back then. The men were old, wiry, skin and bones, men that probably escaped from China during the Cultural Revolution and had no other skills to offer. I never used one as I thought it looked too bourgeoisie. But there were always a few tourists who would at least get in one to have their picture taken.

Lantau Island is now home of the new airport and is connected to both Kowloon and Hong Kong Island with new bridges, roads, and tunnels with the addition of hotels and convention centers that usually surround major international airports. Even Disney Land is there now. When I took my hover-craft to Discovery Bay, there was nothing to see except green hills and ocean.

When I lived in Hong Kong, I ate twice on the floating restaurant, the Sea Palace that sets just of the town of Aberdeen. I took a bus to Aberdeen, walked a little to the water front, where there was a water taxi that could sit six. After disembarking from the taxi, and walking up the ramp to the restaurant, I walked past a smoke filled room and first heard then saw Chinese playing Mah-Jongg. Believe me the Mah-Jongg solitary computer game is nothing like what they were engaged in. This game is like American poker, with lots of bets and money at sake. The restaurant provided a great decor and good food; taking a boat to a boat to have dinner that was the novelty. (Note: I still have the chop sticks from my last dinner there and use them often to eat any noodle dish)

Then there was the trip to Stanley which is also on Hong Kong Island. Stanley is famous for its markets and bargains to be found. I took a double-decker bus that climbed over the mountains to the other side of the island. I bought Xmas presents there at very reasonable prices.

These two unique places are things I want to keep in my memories just as they were, and I hope I am never tempted to return to them.

Probably what I will remember most about the old Hong Kong are the disco clubs which introduced me to a sub culture within the country. As exotic and exciting as Hong Kong to be sometime, there was no one to share things with and life was definitely lonely at times. I resorted to going to one of my favorite past times, dancing. There I met the maids of Hong Kong. They were mostly Filipinos in their late twenties or thirties and not only do they like to sing, but they like to dance also. I found some favorite dance partners who also became my friends.

Many people could afford maids in Hong Kong and many of them lived in the place where they were employed. Maid quarters consisted of a small room that held a bed and little else, about the size of a walk in closet in the States. The women would send what was left over from their wages back home where the money greatly helped their parents and younger children.

What made making friends so easy was that they spoke English. Josie became my girl friend and sometimes we would sleep together. She has a Catholic and a virgin and wanted to stay that way until she married. Since I knew I wasn’t going to marry her, I respected her wishes. We would sleep spooned together and I think we were both happy to feel physical and emotional contact with another person. She was a sweet kind hearted sole.

When I returned to the States I wrote to her for a while and two other Chinese from work, Bill and Amy.. There was much concern as to what life would be when Hong Kong reverted back to Chinese control. It happened in 1997 and by that time Bill Wong had emigrated to Canada and I soon lost track of him and the other two also disappeared from my life.

As it turned out Hong Kong is under Chinese control, but it is a separate country and has its own government. There is no Great Internet Wall in Hong Kong and information about the rest of the world is freely available. Perhaps China will become more like Hong Kong in the future.