Wash and Dry Wedding

During the mid 1980s I moved to Chicago. I had always lived in a small town, and in fact, had spent most of my youth out in the country, living next to a small farm. Living in the big city was a huge step, and it took me years to finally get up the courage to make such a big change.

I found an apartment in a brick buidling on the north side. It was roughly 10 blocks north of Wrigley Field in a neighborhood known as Andersonville. Most of the Scandanavian people from the area had long since left and the street where I lived was populated by virtually every ethnic group imagineanable - Italians, Iranians, Irish, Polish and Mexicans. In fact, my landlord was Filipino, as was the family on the east side of my building.

Since I didn’t have my own washing machine I went to different laundromats in the immediate vicinity. I had several, and if I went to one and found a parking place, I went in. If not, I went to another one. This particular Saturday I went to one over on North Damen. They had a small lot right in the back and I parked and took my laundry bag out of the back seat of my car and walked in.

There was a big woman there, with several little kids, and she had all but two of the ten washers full. There was one free, and the other was out of order. So that left me with one washer to do my two loads. And she actually had more loads to do after her machines all stopped. But I was already there, so I started my load of jeans and shirts and sat down. Her kids were running all around the place laughing and screaming, and she was just ignoring them completely. As I sat there I just felt more and more pissed at the situation, but I knew nothing I said or did would make any difference. So I grabbed a magazine and tried to read it.

Finally, my first load was done in the washer. I grabbed one of the wire carts and unloaded the washer into the cart. When I looked over at the dryers, she had them all full, so I loaded my second load of white clothes into the washer and sat back down to wait for a dryer. By this time I’m in an even worse mood than before. 

Eventually she starts catching up with her stuff and by the time my second load stops in the washer, a dryer opens up. I guess she ran out of quarters and toward the end she just bagged stuff up and finally left with her all bratty little kids.

By the time she’s completely packed up and gone, my first load is almost dried. So I load my whites into another dryer and take out everything but my jeans from the first machine and start folding. Finally it’s quiet, and for a little while, at least, I have the whole place to myself. I’m thinking “Thank God they’re gone!”

I’m standing there, leaning against the counter, hanging shirts up on, yes, wire hangers. I’ve got other things stacked up on the counter and the first dryer is almost done with my jeans. I walk over and pull them out and almost burn myself on the zippers. “Damn! These things are...”  Before I finish muttering to myself, in comes a Mexican woman with several little kids. She looks around a little bit and the kids run around the place laughing. She says something in Spanish to a cute little girl that seems to be a little older and she obediently goes running out the back door.

A few minutes later the little girl comes back in with an older couple. She’s helping them and guides them over to some plastic chairs over in another area of the room. As soon as they sit down, other women start coming in, some through the back door and some through the front, and they’re all carrying dishes and pots of food. They start spreading dishes and arranging cups and pans out onto the folding tables. Eventually they start putting stuff onto MY table and I kind of get a little nervous. “What the f....., I’m trying to do laundry here...” and I feel like I’m being pushed farther over into a little corner of the table. 

My second dryer buzzes and I go over and unload it into my wire cart. I get back to the table and start to transfer everything as fast as I can because I want to just get the hell out there! When I look up, there is an older woman standing there with a big smile and a plate full of food. “Te gusta?” she says. I almost said no, but it smelled so good.. and she had such a nice smile on her face... so I said “gracias” and took the plate over to the chairs and sat down. I think there was a tamale and some rice and beans, and God did it ever taste good! I was almost starting to feel a little less pissed off. I wasn’t sure I was even ready for that. Then a short, older man came over. He had two styrofoam cups with some kind of juice in it and he gave me one. Before I could say anything he opened his coat and pulled a bottle out from an inside pocket and poured some of it into my cup, then some into his cup. He smiled and lifted his cup and said “salud..” We both took a sip and he walked back over to the rest of the group.

Everyone was talking and laughing and eating and drinking, when all of a sudden a couple comes in through the back. It was a beautiful young bride, all dressed in white, with a huge flowing white veil, and her handsome new husband. They looked like such a wonderful couple. Everyone cheered as they walked into the middle of the laundromat, then people started singing some song in Spanish, first one guy, then everyone started joining in. A few minutes later a band of Mariachis came in through the back door and eveyone was singing and dancing.

One of the bride’s aunts came over with another huge plate of food, and an uncle came over and handed me a bottle of Mexican beer. I thought “jeez, I need to finish folding my clothes.” I started to get up and move toward the table and there were two women stuffing my laundry bag full of the clothes that they had already finished folding. Meanwhile the party kept going. I don’t know if they owned the place or what, but the last wash was supposed to be done by 8 pm, and it was already 11:30. I had more food and more drinks. I think I even danced with some of the younger sisters and cousins and nieces. I can even remember speaking some Spanish and trying to sing some songs.

Finally, a couple of the uncles came and helped me out to the car with my laundry. One of them asked me if I was OK. It was late and I was only about three blocks away from my apartment. When I woke up the next morning and had to go to work, I had a really bad hangover, and I couldn’t even remember what had happened right away. Did I dream all of that? I made it to work, and I eventually remembered everything. But I never saw any of those people again.

My early days in Rock Falls, Illinois

When I was growing up, starting in the mid-50s, we lived in Rock Falls, Illinois. My dad worked at "the Mill". You heard that alot. Lots of people in the area worked there. During its heyday, Northwestern Steel and Wire Company was the 14th largest steel mill in the country. That was when all the giant steel companies were in business - Pittsburgh Steel, U.S. Steel, the big factories in Chicago, Gary, Birmingham. Steel was right up there with the car industry. Back then they actually used steel to make cars!

There were other factories right down there alongside the Mill - National Manufacturing, Illinois Forge, Lawrence Brothers, and across the river (Rock River) there was RB&W, and even an International Harvester plant. Most men in town, if they didn't work at the Mill, probably worked at one of the other factories in town. The economy was really, really good, and the wages were good, especially if you worked at the Mill. The United Steelworkers kept the steelworkers' wages high and the other factories kept their workers' wages high also to compete.

The local economy was solid. Everyone benefited. Most stores were locally owned. There were no Wal-Marts, no Home Depots. We had Piggly Wiggly, A&P, National Tea, and many mom & pop corner stores. It wasn't until the late 70s or into the 80s that McDonald's came along. We had Dog 'n' Suds, Prince Castles, and lots of independent root beers stands, cafes, and restaurants.

We also had some of the best pizza and spaghetti that I've ever had. Angelo's Pizza started in Rock Falls in a little cement block building, less than a mile across the bridge from the Mill. My dad and my uncle John would take me over to "Ma Arduini's". They'd sit me on a stool and buy me a Coke to drink while they played the pinball machine. Later, that place became Angelo's. Local families would show up with big empty pots to buy spaghetti to take home, along with loaves of their special homemade bread. Pizza was actually a pretty new thing back then. And no, it wasn't "Chicago-style, or deep dish", but the crust was made right there; the cheese was from Walnut Cheese and their sausage was the best damned sausage I've ever had.

I remember lots of Italian names when I was growing up - Sperroni, Tintorri, Arduini... There were families that had small truck farms around town and on the outskirts, and they grew tomatoes, mostly. If you didn't grow your own tomatoes to can, in the fall you could go buy bushels of tomatoes to put up in Mason jars to keep your family going through the winter. My mom did that, along with my grandmothers and my aunts. Across the street from us lived a woman who had grown up in an Italian family, and she taught my mom how to cook some really great Italian food - you've never had homemade ravioli like they used to make!

Before there was Dancing with the Stars...

As I watch all the younger people around me where I live, I get these very wistful feeings. They’re all getting ready for the upcoming Flamenco Festival. I can’t help thinking that if only things had been different, maybe I could be doing that, too. I love the music and I love to watch them dance.

Not many people realize this, but I actually started college as a dance major. Looking back on everything that happened, well... it all seems kind of surreal. Lots of people tried to give me advice, but I was headstrong, and I had made up my mind that I wanted to specialize, not in just one dance, but in two. I decided to not only do the Hoky Poky, but also the Chicken Dance. People, including my parents, tried to talk me out of it. They all thought it would be too difficult, it would take too much time, too much effort. But that never stopped me. I knew I had “what it takes”, and once I put my mind to it, I could do just about anything. Just about...

So, I went away to school. And I worked very hard. I spent lots of nights at the dance studio, and most of my weekends. Dancing, dancing, dancing. I didn’t have many friends. People on my dorm floor laughed and made fun of me - “hey where you going? Dancin’? Haw haw haw!” And I’d answer back “Yeah...” I wasn’t afraid of them! None of them!

And I got good. In fact I got REALLY good. I got lots of encouragement. Soon people were inviting me to perform off campus. I was getting pretty well known around all the local nursing homes and senior centers. It didn’t pay much, but I was getting exposure, getting my name out there. And everyone knows how important that is. Especially when you’re just getting started.

Well you might wonder... you might ask “why BOTH dances? Why not just the Hoky Poky OR the Chicken Dance?” Why did I feel I had to do both dances? Well, looking back... maybe I was a little greedy. I lived not far from the Wisconsin border, and the chicken dance was HUGE there. I probably could have done really well with just the Chicken Dance if I decided to live IN Wisconsin, or at least stay nearby. But I wasn’t sure I wanted to do that. I thought maybe I’d like to travel, or maybe live some place OTHER than Wisconsin or Northern Illinois. You see, I thought I was thinking ahead, I thought I was playing it smart. It all made complete sense to me.

So anyway, as time progressed, almost every Sunday, I was being invited to perform somewhere, and I actually had to turn some people down. I wasn’t sure if I was ready to go out and do the wedding circuit yet. Maybe almost, but not quite, not quite yet.

And then I got this call. I was excited. I got a call from one of the biggest senior centers in the area - in Sycamore! I had been waiting for this. I thought, “THIS is what I’ve been working for. All my long hours and hard work were FINALLY starting to pay off!”

So the night before I went to bed early. I got a good night’s sleep, although will all the excitement, I was a little bit too excited to fall asleep right away. But eventually I drifted off, and I had wonderful dreams about dancing all night long.

The next morning I got up and went down to the cafeteria and had a light breakfast. (I didn’t want anything weighing me down.) And then I went into a common area off the lobby and started running through a few things. Just getting warmed up. Gotta stay limber. When I felt I’d done enough I went back up in the elevator to shower and get ready. I was SO excited!

I got all cleaned up and put on my special outfit (NO, it was NOT a chicken suit.) And as I was heading down the hall, I heard someone say “Kevin.” I knew the voice; it was my R.A. He was a pretty good guy. I turned around, and there he was, with all of the rest of the guys from the floor. “Have a good one.” And they all gave me a big thumbs up. I felt tears welling up in my eyes.

As I drove down the highway, I felt my hands getting all sweaty. Was I ready? Had I forgotten anything? And then finally, I turned into the circular driveway for the Happy Days Retirement Center, and I parked in the nearest visitor parking space. It was kind of brisk out, almost looked like it could snow. My stomach was feeling kind of queazy as I pulled open the door and walked into the lobby. It was really warm inside. Almost too warm, way too warm, and what was that smell?

I walked up to the receptionist’s desk and gave her my name. She just looked back at me with this “why are you bothering me expression” on her face “yeah? so... are you here to...” 

I said “I’m here to perform...? Uh-h Ju-dy John....

“Oh” she said as she pushed a button on her intercom “Judy, please come to reception...” She put the phone down and said, “She’ll be right with you.” as she turned her head back to her magazine. I just stood there feeling really way too warm, wondering about that smell... it smelled kind of like vegetable soup and lots of Brussels sprouts...

“Kevin! Hi, I’m Judy... you made it! Great! Come on, we’re all in here...”

I followed her in to a room through some double doors and there were bunches of people gathered around in kind of a semi circle, some were in wheel chairs. Lots of big smiles and people wearing glasses. Many were in pajamas and bathrobes. Some tried to grab me as I walked past... I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to... I wasn’t sure about any... jeez, was it hot in there! Judy guided me toward the center of the room, and when she had me where she thought I was supposed to be, she stopped and whispered in my ear “here we are. “ Then she raised here voice “Uh-h- everyone! This is Kevin. He’s from over at the college, and he’s come to do some - he’s going to perform for you this morning, and then we’ll have lunch. Yes, in just a little while... chicken, I believe... OK, Kevin, whenever you’re ready... Oh!” and she turned and walked over to a little phonograph. “Do you know how to.. oh wait, here we are”. and she put the needle down onto the record. It made this loud scratching sound for a few seconds and then the music started to play. 

Now I was OK. All I needed was to hear the music and my body just automatically took over. I didn’t even have to think about it. I put my right foot in. I took my right foot out. I put my left foot in and everything was shaking all about. The audience was going wild. Well, as wild as they could, but they were really enjoying it. I could tell.

Then... what happened next. It’s still all a blurr to me. I put my wholeself in...., but when I tired to put my wholeself out... something terrible happened. It felt like everything was happening in slow motion. I don’t know if it was the floor itself, or if I slipped on something... but the next thing I knew, I was in a pile on the floor and my wholeself was in a lot of pain.

Several of the orderlies came and tried to help me up, but everytime they moved me, something else hurt. I felt all kinds of stabbing, burning pain shooting all through my body. An ambulance came and took me to the emergency room. But when we got there, they asked if I was a student. I told them I was, and they told the ambulance drivers to take me to NIU Health Center. “You guys know better than to bring one of them here!”

So they took me to the Health Center and called my parents. They did some x-rays and gave me some drugs that pretty much knocked me out. I was in a bed in this big room and everything was spinning. I started to come to and when I turned my head, there was my mom... and there was my dad. I was afraid he was really going to be mad, but he held out his hand and grabbed my arm and asked “how ya feelin’?”

“Where am I?” Then a doctor came in.

“I’m afraid we have some bad news. Your son...” He picked up the clipboard and looked at it. “Kevin... will probably never dance again. With a lot of physical therapy and hard work, he’ll walk. But he’ll never do the Hoky Poky again. Possibly the Chicken Dance... someday... but it’s much too soon to tell. We have to get him walking again first, and then? Who knows?” Then he looked into my eyes. “I’m very sorry.” He turned and walked out.

Since it was still only my first semester, and I had good grades in all my other general education classes, I was able to switch my major over to Art and not lose any time. I did finally walk again, but I was never able to dance, at least not the way I had once dreamed of dancing. I went on as an artist, and had a successful career as a graphic designer for many, many years.

Hello. My name is Kevin, and I’m hooked on Phonics.

I guess it all began when I was just starting grade school. It was the early 1960s, and teachers were actually encouraging students to use phonics - they thought it would help us learn to read. We were ALL a lot more innocent back then. I quickly began to use phonics on a daily basis. Dipthongs became some of my favorite things to use. I guess I just liked the way they sounded.

True, I did learn to read. Most of us did, at that young age. But at what a cost! The thing is, no one ever thought there would ever be any adverse effects. I’ll never forget the day my mother found my set of flash cards. I had tucked them into one of my dresser drawers, and when she went to put my clean socks away, there they were. I can only imagine the shock she must have gone through. Her little boy, with flash cards, for crissake! What were they thinking? I’ll never forget the spanking I got when my dad came home.

I remember as a high school student, trying to learn to type. I sat down and there right in front of me - all those letters, numbers, symbols. It was like being in a candy store! I overdosed and had to be carried out on a stretcher. I eventually got better, but it’s not something that you can ever fully recover from. I enrolled in a Phonics 12-Step Program. That’s why I’m here today, and I know I can never ever go back to the way things were before. And maybe the weirdest  thing  is - have you ever tried to sound out the word Phonics?