Indian Lake. A must-read.

When we were in our teens in the early 50s, we had heard for a long time from Nick Liakos about the joys and excitement of Indian Lake, Ohio.  It had a lake, an amusement park and lots of lovely, lonely teenage girls. It also was in Ohio where you could drink beer at age 18.

Our adventurous gang decided to go, and when one of our own, Bob Stephenson, provided the car, we were on our way. There was our ringleader; Nick, Bob Stephenson, myself and Max Parker.

Bob was the groundskeeper of the Muncie Reds, a class D affiliate of the Cincinnati Reds.  Class D is one of the lowest levels of Professional baseball.  Usually when a player is signed to a professional contract they are given a signing bonus.  Once received, the first thing many of the players do is to buy a new car.  When the team would go on a road trip, they would leave their cars and keys with Bob to care for them. I remember one player had a new Chevrolet and he had put on Cadillac tail fins which made it a really hot car.  They would give Bob permission to drive them.

Max was a south side Muncie boy, and a fine basketball player.  He was a great shooter and the starting guard with the local team, the Muncie Central Bearcats (i.e. the movie Hoosiers).  He delighted staying with his friends’ families and would just make himself at home.

At the time, he was staying with another friend of ours, Bobby Graves.  Bobby’s father, Tommy Graves, would give his children a weekly allowance every week.  They would line up and Tommy would dole out the money.  Max would just line up along with them.  One week, they were lined up to receive their money and when it came to Max, he said,  “Could I have a little extra? I have a date.”

Max also loved country music and was completely uninhibited.  He would belt out a country tune any time so moved.  They had a country tune that was popular at the time, “Good Night Irene”.  It was like the later Beetle tunes where they just keep repeating a line.  It went “Good Night Irene, Good Night Irene, Good Night Irene, Good Night Irene, I’ll see you in my dreams.”  Max loved that song and would sing it repeatedly.

We finally arrived at Indian Lake and rented a house for the weekend.  It consisted of a front porch which ran across the house and the rear of the house had been divided into two spaces which served as bedrooms.  The partition dividing the room did not go to the top of the ceiling.  There was a space of about two feet.

We went on our way around the amusement park and met some young ladies who were glad to accompany us. I, as usual, had no money by this time.  I was in line with a young lady to go on the Ferris wheel. I had no money and the young lady was expecting me to get the tickets. I really had no plans, I was thinking of using the old lost billfold routine.

As we were waiting in line to get the tickets, Bob Stephenson came over to me and extended his hand to shake hands with me and to wish me luck, he slipped a $10.00 bill into my hand.  He didn’t say a word other than good luck.  It has been over 60 years and I can still remember that most vividly.  That says wonders about Bob’s character and I have remembered it many, many times.

Max was also on the Ferris with us and he had some young lady with him.  We could not see him, but we could hear him occasionally belting out “Good Night Irene.”  Max had consumed several bottles of that 3.2 Ohio beer.  When Max and his lady reached the top of the Ferris wheel, it stopped and the seats started rocking.  We were about two or three swings behind Max.

The rocking of the swings and the 3.2 beer apparently overcame Max, and he started throwing up over the side of the seat. I’m describing this as delicately as possible, but the vomit went all over the sides of the Ferris wheel and toward the ground.

When the ride ended, our girlfriends left, and we, with a thoroughly chastened Max, went back to our rented house.

Max and I slept on one side, and Bob Stephenson and Nick slept on the other.  As we prepared to go to sleep, Max coughed up a goober (phlegm) and blew it up and out of his mouth into the air.  Again, I’m trying to describe this as delicately as possible.  It soared up, over and through the partition of the rooms and with the precision of a GPS, came down and hit Nick right between the eyes.

Nick was a Greek kid, not too tall, but very stocky and strong. Nick was enraged!  He charged around the partition, with wild, tousled hair and in white shorts and yelled, “WHICH ONE OF YOU SONS OF BITCHES DID THAT?”

I pointed to Max and Max pointed to me.  Bob Stephenson came trailing after Nick and helped to calm Nick and restore some semblance of order.

Even now, after all of these years, when I want to raise my spirits, I think of Nick coming around that corner.

We loved Indian Lake.

Three Amigos Reunited

The Ducks

About a half mile from our house there is about a 45 degree curve.  The folks who live there raise some chickens, ducks and occasionally some turkeys.  The birds run loose and as  you can imagine, they lose some to the traffic.

A day or two ago,  a duck was killed and was laying by the side of the road as I went through the curve.  Today when I went by the area, I saw two young ducks laying by the body with their heads laying on the body of the dead duck.  Apparently the dead bird was their mother.

Sometimes I wish I was not so observant or so sensitive, but then again the fact that someone was aware and had noticed the incident perhaps gave it some meaning, some dignity.  Maybe in some small way it made the world a better place and me a better person?

I hope so.

Military

I read in the paper  this morning that the Federal Court ordered an immediate end of ban on gays in the military.  It reminded me of an event that I witnessed when I was in the army.

In 1955 I was in the army, stationed at Schofield barracks with the 25th infantry division with Headquarters Company near Honolulu, Hawaii.  You might remember Schofield barracks.  It was where they filmed the movie “From Here to Eternity” It was the nearest army base when the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor.

Schofield Barracks, Hawaii

 

It was a weekend and there were several of us on the second floor of the barracks just hanging out.  There was a commotion out on the street immediaely in front of the barracks building.
To the left of our building was the line company the AAA, the anti-aircraft company and to the right the howitzers, the artilery companies.  Each company four units, A, B, C and D.,with each unit having approximately 50 men.

One of the companies was in full combat gear, double timing holding their rifles at port arms, which is holding them at a 45 degree angle.  Double timing means running at a comfortable pace.

In front of them about 20 yards ahead was a single trooper also running with his uniform minus his stripes and unit insignia.  We wondered what this was all about.

Later on, we talked with some of the troops in AAA and it turned out that the person running in front of the company was found to be gay and he was stripped of his stripes and unit insignia and they were running him to the post headquarters to be dishonorably discharged and be returned home.

I knew  instinctively and immediately that their conduct was unequivocally, morally wrong.  It offended my sense of decency.  At that time they had the legal right to separate the trooper from the company, but it could have been done in private and with a sense of propriety.  Their conduct was shameful.

I should have protested and spoken out against it, but I didn’t.  I went back and laid down and tried to forget it.

Elie Wiesel said in one of  his books,   There is a thing worse than evil, it is the indifference to evil”  I should have protested and spoken out.