Indiana Chicken Dinners

Ever since I was a tot, my arteries have surged this time of year with the byproducts of the chicken dinners of southeastern Indiana.  As a kid, they provided an excuse for a "Sunday drive."  Since moving into the area 17 years ago with my wife and kids, our knowledge and fondness for the various dinners has only increased (as has my weight.)  Amazingly, and sadly, this summer's chicken dinner schedule may be the last--forever.  Because of church consolidations and mergers announced this year by the Archdiocese of Indianapolis, the best-of-the-best dinners will likely not return next year and that's a terrible shame.
The St. Martin's picnic in Yorkville is the one I've attended the longest because of my relatives who are active in the parish.  I remember going to this one as a kid, when they handed out "fish pond" gifts--blue butcher's paper-wrapped gifts for the boys, pink for girls--from the window of the long-since demolished schoolhouse.  Their chicken dinner was always the best and had the most Cincinnati "draw"...although in recent years it has been diminished somewhat by switching from "family style" to "buffet style" service.  Still, I'd put its chicken among the best.   The next dinner, this Sunday (July 28th), might be the last as the parish will be merged with three others.  However, the parish is appealing the archdiocese's decision.
St. Paul's in New Alsace always follows St. Martin's by two weeks, this summer falling on August 11.  St. Paul's has evolved into my favorite chicken dinner because they still serve family style--that is: big bowls of food are placed on the table and diners can take as much as they want.  The line can be a little long getting into St. Paul's and the gym can be a little hot, but the food is fresh and the chicken very good.  Parking is also pretty good at this one.  St. Paul's is also merging and even though the church was built in 1837 (making it the oldest continuously used church in the area) and was visited by John Hunt Morgan during the Civil War, it is slated to be closed which is terrible news from a historical aspect, too. 
St. Pius, in rural Ripley County, has its festival and dinner on August 18th.  This is the one to go to if you want a traditional, old fashioned church festival.  Located in a very rural area of farmland (and right down the road where we live), this festival, with its traditional games, is like stepping back in time.  The chicken here is sold in whole quarter chunks, so you get a lot.  Rare is the visit when we didn't walk out with a bag of leftover chicken because they give you so much. But the real treasure here is the old fashioned, home-made gravy and mashed potatoes. The best!  Although it, too, dates back to the late 19th Century, St. Pius is slated to close and merge with another parish, even though its parishioners are active and finances are excellent.  
The last of the "big 4" actually comes on October 14th and doesn't feature chicken at all.  St. Mary's of the Rock is located in rural Franklin County between Sunman and Brookville.  Instead of chicken, they have a turkey and stuffing meal that rivals anything your mom might have made for Thanksgiving.  The turkey is good, but the stuffing is the best, the cranberry sauce is real and pies are homemade.  St. Mary's has a historic grotto carved out of the hillside behind the church.  The parish is also slated to close at the end of the year, which is very sad.  Their fall festival, which usually takes place as the leaves are changing colors, is worth a visit just because the drive getting there.
These four festivals have been an important part of our family weekends over the years and I'm so blessed to have been able to share them with my children.  Unfortunately, circumstances might bring an end to all four traditions.  If you've ever heard of the famous Indiana chicken dinners and thought about visiting, this might be your last opportunity.  I'm sure we'll be attending all four and, at the risk of gluttony, I expect to savor the memories, tastes and aromas of these fading community traditions.

Things I Miss About My First Car

Earlier this week, I was at the pump getting gas when a mid-'80s Somethingorother pulled up to the next pump.  The driver came around back and popped back the license plate and started filling up.  Wow....I'm amazed that I had forgotten all the cars I owned that also had the fuel intake hidden behind the license plate.  It was pretty common at one time.  When exactly did they disappear?  Although it was a little tough to use one handed--due to a spring the size of an anaconda--it was a pretty nifty idea and it didn't matter to which side of the pump you pulled up.   It got me to thinking: so what other things about my first car, a 1972 Chevy Impala Convertible, have been made quietly obsolete by automakers?
Well, I still really miss the reliable little high-beam switch on the floorboard.  The "click-click" sound and sensation made high-beam headlights fun and gave the left foot something to do.  Remember playing "gotcha" with cars in the opposite lane?
While my Chev didn't have them, my mom's '71 Plymouth had cozy-wings on the side windows.  Those seemed to make a lot of sense--letting in just enough air without disrupting conversation or the radio.  Not sure why the cozy-wing was ever dropped other than expense, I guess. 
My Chevy did have fender skirts, which gave it an elegant appearance that far exceeded its actual luxury.  They were easy to take on and off, just a discretely hidden lever underneath.  I did not have curb feelers, but considered them one time.  Ask an older person about curb-feelers.
I did have white walled tires, though, and my dad showed me how to make them sparkle using Comet and warm water and a stiff scrub brush.  I remember getting tires in the 1990s, when white-walls were out of "style" and telling the guy to mount them backwards to hide the stripes--I kinda regret that now, since white walls have completely vanished.
Overall, I miss chrome...that Chevy had a lot of chrome and it was a part-time job to keep it waxed and polished.  Today's paint is so much better, I admit, and I haven't waxed a car in years, but back then it was a constant battle with rust, particularly around the fenders, and despite monthly waxings, rust usually won out.  But buff the dried wax off of chrome on a sunny, summer day, revealing your distorted reflection, and it was truly a spiritual experience.
I don't miss the frequency and difficulty in changing headlamps; the constant replacement of master cylinders, starters and generators; floorboards that rusted though to the point where you could see the ground; and terrible sounding radios.  
I DO miss full sized spare tires, the concept of a real 2 or 4-bbl carburetor, scouring junk yards looking for parts and, alas, the days before strict seat-belt laws. 
My old Chevy was probably crushed in a junk yard years ago, sadly, but I'd love to drive her one more time--and pull up to a gas pump to fill 'er up behind the license plate!

Another Milan Miracle

Last Saturday, the town of Milan, Indiana, officially dedicated the Milan '54 Hoosiers Museum...a museum celebrating Milan High School's amazing 1954 Indiana State Championship as well as Hoosiers, the 1986 movie upon which that championship was loosely based.   The day was perfect...rain and clouds departed just in time for the parade featuring a couple dozen vintage automobiles....many convertibles with celebrities riding on top of the back seat.  The parade was similar to a parade back in 1954 when those cars were new and the teen aged players were celebrated as they returned to town following their big win.  Some of those players, including game-winning shot-maker Bobby Plump, returned for the museum dedication and ribbon cutting.  Some of the movie actors and producers were also on hand.  Did I mention that tiny Milan only had 161 students back in 1954?  It was an incredible victory in an era when all Indiana schools competed in the same tournament, no matter the school size. 
For Milan, the '54 Museum is a nice tribute to the "most important event in town history."  It's too bad every small town in rural American can't have such a thrill.  It's great to have something to be proud of....so proud, the old railroad water tower still bears the fading "Milan 1954" lettering.   As a neighbor of sorts (I live about six miles away), I couldn't be more happy for the town.  Admittedly, most of our family traffic takes us north, through the town of Sunman, and so I don't get to Milan too often.  Thus I felt a bit like an outsider during Saturday's big event.   However, I still feel a sense of pride and joy, despite having no connection to the Championship other than a framed certificate signed by some of the players and a piece of the Milan's "old" gym floor.
I think my happiness centers around one woman:  Roselyn McKittrick.  When we first moved to the area from Cincinnati in 1995, I happened into Roselyn's now-defunct antique store.  She immediately engaged her new customer in conversation.   What a delight! In one corner of the store, she had recreated the locker room of the Milan championship team, complete with signed basketballs, letter-jackets and photographs.  She told me then that it was her personal tribute to the team that brought fame to her adopted home town (she arrived a few years after the championship) and that she hoped to someday have a permanent museum.  Over the years, she would bend my year regarding any progress for the plans and, obviously, it takes many, many people from all over to pull off something like this.  But for Roselyn, it's a personal victory and I couldn't be more happy for her.  As someone who is trying to build a museum and organization myself, I appreciate the hard work and dogged determination behind such an accomplishment.  Dreams can come true and it fills my heart with optimism when "the little guy" pulls off a big victory like this museum--kind of like Milan itself!
In one room of the museum, a video of the original championship game runs in perpetual performance.  There were about a dozen people jammed into the room Saturday, including myself, and after a young Bobby Plump once again stroked a jump shot over an outstretched defender for the game-winner, someone in the group blurted out, "they won again!"  Everyone laughed and yet it was poignant...some things like the 1954 Milan championship and this small town museum are still kinda hard to believe.  Congratulations, Milan!

The Office--One Last Time

This isn't the first time I've written about my favorite show, The Office, but it will probably be the last since fans are on the doorstep of the penultimate episode.  The series finale is scheduled for May 16.
It's hard to say goodbye to a long running television friend.  I remember some of the emotions when Everybody Loves Raymond (my previous favorite) signed off...and Seinfeld...and Home Improvement.  And Mary Tyler Moore and MASH.  And the Waltons.  Usually I have only one favorite at a time and they've all seemed to overlap perfectly--because Raymond ended when it did, I can honestly say I watched EVERY episode of the Office.  I'm not sure what might be next for me or if there will even be another"favorite."  Thanks to technology, my watching habit has changed so much...although I haven't missed a single episode of the Office, I haven't actually watched a single episode on TV in four years!  How?  Hulu--one of the great cyber creations (particularly since NBC comes in so poorly at our house out in the country thanks to the stupid digital conversion, but I digress....)   When I started watching the Office in 2004, I was still recording shows on a VHS, believe it or not.
As far as the show itself is concerned, I have mixed emotions.  There's no doubt it is time for it to come to an end.  I've hypothesized before about how good sitcoms have a lifespan of 8 or 9 seasons maximum.  All of the above titles, plus my all-time favorite Andy Griffith, ran out of gas by season 9.  When Steve Carell departed the Office after season 5, it was the beginning of the end and most fans knew it.  The subsequent story lines and new characters were occasionally good and occasionally cringe-worthy.  Every so often, the writers would slap a hit but just as often, they'd swing and miss.  Every show (except the age defying Simpsons, perhaps) must eventually arrive at the point where the creative juices simply stop flowing.  For the Office, the show is ending at just the right time.
Still, there's a part of me that is sad, too.  There were some really interesting and rich background characters like Creed, Meredith and Stanley that should have gotten more stage time.  Meanwhile, the show was a nice diversion and dwelt on some quirks we've all experienced in our own workplace but I can think of a few they missed.  Many in the cast have gone from "obscure" to "movie star," which is satisfying.  I hope their careers continue to bring them fulfillment.
I am looking forward to the next two episodes and then we will all say goodbye and move on.  Storylines will be tidied up and, I'm sure, tears will be shed.  I've heard maybe even Carell will make a cameo.  Television has changed so much since Mary, Ted, Lou, Murray and the gang huddled in a circle and sang "It's a Long Way to Tipperary" as they exited the WJM newsroom for the final time.  I only hope the Office exits with the same class.  Meanwhile, I must decide if there's something else out there worthy of the title "favorite show."  Or maybe I've graduated beyond that, too.

The Apple (and not the computer)

It wouldn’t be an issue if I actually liked them, but I’m not keen on apples.  Nevertheless, about a year ago, I decided to try and eat an apple every afternoon for a snack instead of candy or chips or whatever.  This has forced an overall reevaluation of the apple.  No, I’m still not thrilled with them, but it has proven to be a much smarter way to stave off the afternoon hunger pains.  My question now, though, is which variety of apple is least odious.  After a year’s analysis of some seven or eight varieties, this is what I’ve decided.

First of all, the hands-down winner in my year-long apple survey is that Honeycrisps are, by leaps and bounds, the most enjoyable variety.  For flavor, tang, crispness and size, The Honeycrisp is a great apple.  Unfortunately, they are not only more expensive than the other varieties—they are waaaay more expensive!  I ate my first Honeycrisp around October, so naturally I figured they were created for fall-like, caramel dipping, water bobbing, treat making activities.  At $2.99 a pound (and because they are so large, each apple is almost a pound), they quickly became a very expensive snack.   But maybe the price was seasonal, I reasoned?  Nope.  After a few dips to $2.49 in December, the price has stayed rather steady at nearly three bucks.   However, like some strange drug, I am addicted and no other variety satisfies anymore.  Looking over my unofficial notes, last spring I discovered Sonya’s and thought they were pretty good (and affordable) at the time but my first Sonya’s this year have an odd aftertaste, aren’t very sweet and are a bit mealy.  I haven’t seen any Jonagolds yet.  For some reason, they marked high on my list last summer but were only sold for about a month.  Also getting reasonable marks were Jazz apples, but my comments were not overwhelming praiseworthy.  Oddly enough, I think I only bought Granny Smiths one time and found them too tart…maybe I’ll try them again.

Despite their name, Red and Golden Delicious apples are anything but. Yeck.  Braeburns and Galas also ranked very low. There was one called Envy that I tried but, once again, you can’t judge an apple by its name. Of course, there are "eating" apples and "baking" apples, so some of the previously mentioned varieties may have their own fans.

For my individual preferences, I insist the apples spend a few hours in a refrigerator.  For awhile, I only ate them cut up with a sharp pairing knife, but I've since become lazy.  I think, I prefer red to yellow/green apples.  I’d like to see McIntosh apples in my grocery store, but I can’t say I’ve been able to try them in the last year. 

Unfortunately, Honeycrisps have spoiled me but I simply cannot afford them…plus it looks like their season is coming to an end.  If you have a suggestion, feel free to contact me.  Remember, my requirements are simple: Sweet, crunchy, firm, affordable and good cold.  Maybe I can track down that John Chapman fellow…or that “Eve” lady…..

 

Standing in the Beer Line

It was a Krogers on a Friday evening.  All the checkout lanes were packed except for one near the middle with a perky young girl at the register—perhaps 16-years old—and an equally strapping young lad happily bagging on the end of the conveyor.  I looked at my armful of goodies—some apples, a newspaper, a card, and a six-pack of Black and Tan Ale.  I knew what was coming next and sighed…oh well, it was the shortest line, I guess I can wait..

To my great surprise, however, the young girl didn’t call for assistance from an “older” co-worker and the young lad placed the bottled brew in a plastic bag and handed it over to me.  Hmm…Something different here?  In the past when I purchased beer at the grocery and the checkout person was underage, she/he had to call over someone older to slide it past the laser UPC code reader.  I recall being impossibly frustrated that this employee wasn’t permitted to drag the beer six inches to the left.   Indeed, they weren't allowed to even "touch" it.  It was as if the beer contained a radioactive isotopes or something…or maybe they didn’t trust an employee who was so thirsty that, as I fumbled head turned through my wallet for my loyalty card, he/she would swipe a few gulps from one of the bottles.  I remember even offering to slide it past the scanner for them; “Oh, no sir!  That would be against the rules,” they’d say. No, things had changed and maybe a healthy heaping of common sense finally won out.   In a restaurant, Ohio law says 16-year old waitresses can carry unopened alcohol on a tray to a table and 17-year old's can carry open liquors.  No radiation there.  So what was up in the grocery?  Anyway, the dumb rule is apparently gone and good riddance.

I rather lucked out in my own personal beer consuming past.  Although Ohio raised the age limit for beer to 18 when I was a junior in high school, they did continue to make an exception for 3.2 percent beer.  I didn’t drink a lot but on the rare occasion when I did, it usually manifested itself through the one-time very popular Hudy DeLight brand.  When the Feds decided to use extortion by linking their determination to unify the age at 21 in exchange for 10% of a state's highway funds, the states caved and the drinking age was raised to 21 in 1987…happily, over a year after I came of age, so again I lucked out.   Personally, I still don’t have a problem with age 18 for beer (even though I’m a dad)…My college friends and I shared in a few $2.50 pitchers at Groesbeck Tavern (ironically, its now a police station, but I digress....)  It really was no big deal to us back then.  Anyway, I’m sure there’s no political thirst for supporting a lower age for beer, so 21 it shall remain.  As for Krogers?  Maybe the next step will be to improve the “self check” lines, which come to a screeching (“an assistant has been notified to assist you”) halt whenever you try to sneak alcohol past the commonsenseless computer.

The Who in Louisville

Pardon me while a gush a bit.  When I found out last fall that the rock band The Who would be touring this winter AND would be playing my favorite album, Quadrophenia, from top to bottom, I ordered, for the first time in my life, tickets to a concert online.  Louisville was the closest venue to home and there was a date on a Saturday just a few days after my birthday.  Even the ticket price wasn't too bad and so I bought two in the middle section with no clue who I'd ask to go with me.  The concert was was screaming at me from my bucket-list and I was going to see it come youknowwhat.
Now let's go back to the spring of 1980; my freshman year in high school.  I had come of musical age during grade school and the disco era.  My favorite DJ was Mark Sebastian at Q102, who every afternoon told us listeners that he wanted to see us "totally, and I mean totally, N-A-K-E-D."  We laughed and were loyal until "the Q" abandoned us guys for bubblegum pop and Top-40, and so we all migrated to WEBN.  I pleaded with mom to let me install an FM converter in our 1971 Plymouth. I spent $75 I saved from cutting grass to by a Fisher stereo (with 8-track) for my room, carefully placing the speakers to maximize the sound.  In freshman religion class, we were all told to bring in our favorite songs.  I didn't really have one, but the other classmate narrowed it to three: Freebird, Stairway to Heaven and Baba O'Riley.  That latter song was different...rough and gentle, bold and introspective.  I was searching for a new direction and The Who fell into my lap--unfortunately, just a few months after their Cincinnati concert tragedy and a year after Keith Moon died.  Timing hasn't always been my greatest thing (I "discovered" Stevie Ray, alas, only after buying his post-mortem Sky is Crying CD).
Throughout high school I gobbled up what I could find--Who albums, bootleg discs, books--I even joined a "fan club" (my first and only one.)  Then, during my senior year, the band decided to have a "final tour."  I had neither the financial means nor the parental consent to travel to their closest stop (Lexington, KY), so I convinced a friend with cable TV to invite my then-girlfriend and I to watch the final show, December 17, 1982 in Toronto, on pay-per-view (my tab) at his house and recorded the audio on my cassette deck.  And that was it.  The band broke up and I moved on to other bands, finding out that my musical tastes were actually much wider than I would have guessed.  In 1990s, there was a rash of "reunion tours" and The Who made appearances in fits and starts with small tours in '02 and '04.   In December '06, they came as close as Columbus but I just couldn't justify the trip.   I regretted it momentarily but age provides perspective.  Fortunately I got a second chance.
Roger Daltrey will be 69-years-old next month--Pete Townshend will be 68 in May.  I took a little ribbing from friends after their Super Bowl appearance a few years ago but didn't care.   In terms of this tour, any arrow even close to the target would satisfy me...it's not about the music anymore...its about my youth and "the Q" and "making out" at my friend's house and freshman religion class and an ocean of other memories triggered instantaneously by the first few notes of a song tacked by iron spikes to the walls of the caverns of my innermost memories.  I felt a little sick to my stomach last week in the days before the upcoming show (for one, no one wanted to go with me and I thank my 17-year-old son for humoring his "old man"), not because I didn't think the show would live up to any musical expectations but instead because it would not fulfill up to some impossible personal mid-life vacuum.
However, I am happy to report, the concert was not just satisfactory--it was incredible.  The lighting, the video backdrop, the performances, the sound, the mixing of the present with wistful nostalgia.   Roger unbuttoned his shirt and swung his mic, Pete's windmill guitar swung almost exactly the way I saw it watching hours of Who concert videos and movies from the '60s and '70s.  It was better than I had hoped given our collective aging.   Zach Starkey and Simon Townshend were great added touches and the way they incorporated original Moon and John Entwistle video into the show (you just had to have seen it) gave me chills.  Even the parking, the venue (YUM Center) and my traveling companion...to me, a perfect night.  I can't describe here what it meant. 
Suffice it to gush, I had a great time.  I still have plenty of things on "the list" to do yet (helicopter anyone?), but this was one of those times where reality did exceed nervous expectations.