Farewell to a Friend

Yesterday, we found out that a good friend of ours, Bill Bennett, died recently at age 76. I say “good friend” even though I only met him a couple of times. His wife, Mary, taught with Kathleen years ago, in the Chicago suburbs, and those two have kept in touch ever since. About 20 years ago, we spent an engaging weekend with them in their summer home in Wisconsin, and I was immediately charmed by both people. Bill and I hit it off right away, as we both taught history and shared an unrequited love for the Chicago Cubs. They were also an interesting couple who loved conversations on literature, politics, history, and culture. Mary had been a nun before giving up her vows, and they spent many happy years together as a married couple.

One of Bill’s favorite historical figures was Teddy Roosevelt, and Mary included several TR quotes on the prayer card that people received at Bill’s memorial service. The first quote speaks to the situation in the U.S. today: “This country will never be a good place for any of us to live in unless we make it a good place for all of us to live in.” Another one came shortly after Teddy was shot in the chest while giving a campaign speech in Milwaukee in 1912. The bullet stopped just a fraction of an inch from his heart, and he was bleeding profusely from the wound. Being Teddy, however, he insisted on giving the rest of his two-hour-long speech before obtaining medical attention. Asked about it afterward, he said, “I don’t always get shot during the middle of a speech, but when I do, I finish the damn speech.”

Another thing you should know about Bill is that he was one of the last people in this country to contract polio. He got the disease as a child and suffered from a deformed leg that caused him to limp badly for the rest of his life. Before the 1950s, polio was a terrible and deadly disease. In 1952 alone, there were 58,000 reported cases in the U.S., and the mere mention of the disease terrified people like my mother. In 1955, when I was a year old, Jonas Salk developed a polio vaccine. At first, the vaccine was delivered by way of a painful inoculation. Almost everyone my age bears a scar on their arm from those shots. In the late ‘fifties, an oral vaccine was developed, eliminating the need for those shots. So successful were those vaccinations that the Americas were declared polio free in 1994. In 2018, there were only about 100 cases of polio worldwide. In short, childhood vaccinations had virtually eradicated polio from the face of the Earth.

Another of the great achievements of the scientific age was the invention of a vaccine for measles in 1963. Before that, about 2.6 million people died annually from the highly infectious disease. I had measles as a child, at the same time that my sister and brother had it. We were lucky and recovered after being seriously sick for a while. Shortly after that, the measles vaccine was developed and children were required to have it before entering school. Because of another miracle drug, then, a major disease was declared officially eradicated in the U.S. by the year 2000. Today, however, measles is back and spreading once again. How can this be? To quote an article in Forbes magazine from earlier this year, “The primary reason is simple: it’s the highly vocal, supremely confident, and utterly misinformed anti-vaccine movement.” The “anti-vaxxers,” as they are called, started raising fears about the inoculations some 20 years ago and they have been gaining followers ever since. Like so many other conspiracy theorists and purveyors of misinformation, they continue to spread their ideas via social media despite mountains of evidence that the vaccinations are both safe and necessary. These nut-cases have been successful in convincing people that measles vaccinations do more harm than good. Now fearful parents are refusing to have their children vaccinated, and the disease is on the rise again. Just this morning, I read a story in the newspaper that explained how measles is spreading rapidly, and children are dying around the world because of the anti-vax movement. These are not just ignorant, anti-government sorts who are doing this—although there are some parents who fall into this category. Instead, they are usually educated people from both the left and right wings of the political spectrum. I just don’t get it.

Okay. I’m down from my soapbox, so I’ll leave you with this. Last night, Kathleen and I drank a toast to our friend Bill. As I thought of him, I remembered one of my favorite stories about Theodore Roosevelt. Teddy was attending the wedding of his niece. His daughter, Alice Roosevelt Longworth, who was a clever personality in her own right, was watching him hold court at the bar. As the former president regaled his audience with stories about chasing outlaws in the Badlands and charging up San Juan Hill with the Rough Riders, the bride and groom sat in a corner by themselves, completely ignored by their wedding guests. “That’s my father,” she remarked to a friend. “He wants to be the bride at every wedding and the corpse at every funeral.”

Bill would have liked that story. He also would have enjoyed the fact that Teddy’s niece was named Eleanor Roosevelt, and the groom was her fifth cousin, Franklin Delano Roosevelt. (She didn’t even have to change her last name when they married.)

FDR, of course, contracted polio a few years later and spent the rest of his life confined to a wheelchair.

River Dazzle

After a Thanksgiving dinner that couldn’t be beat at Ben and Amber’s house on Thursday, we decided to venture out for another River Falls tradition on Friday. River Dazzle is a one-day festival that celebrates the start of winter or perhaps the beginning of the holiday season. I’m not exactly sure what its stated purpose was, but this town sure knows how to celebrate things.

There were special events all over town, from a free matinee film at the Falls Theater on Main Street to free ice skating at the hockey arena. Kids could make crafts, mail letters to Santa, have their faces painted, ride on a horse-drawn wagon, or eat cookies and drink hot chocolate. In the evening, a Christmas parade brought Santa to town and the festive lights along Main Street were lit. This year, the lighting had a special aspect to it, because, as of January 1st, all of the municipal buildings and streetlights in town will be powered by 100% renewable energy, rather than fossil fuels of any sort. It’s nice to know that my adopted home, despite its diminutive size, has that sort of global awareness.

As the grand-kids were with their other grandparents that day, we approached the afternoon with a more adult-friendly attitude. The weather cooperated. After 6 inches of snow on Tuesday, and before another 6-8 inches over the weekend, Friday afternoon was relatively warm, albeit slushy and overcast. We decided to participate in the “Chili Crawl.” The Chili Crawl, another free event, was a contest to determine the best chili in River Falls. About 20 businesses participated, including 10 of the 11 bars in a two block portion of Main Street. From 1:00 to 5:00, each of the participating businesses offered a tiny cup of chili to anyone who wanted to taste it. You could vote on your favorite, but tasters were also eligible for cash prizes in a drawing if they obtained stamps on their card from at least ten businesses. Kathleen decided that her recent luck in the Meat Raffle would spill over into this drawing, so she was determined to taste at least ten chili samples, earn the stamps, and win cash at the drawing. She was on a mission. As for me, my ambition went only as far as sampling a beer from each of the bars we stopped at.

When we reached downtown, there was a definite party atmosphere in the air. Christmas music filled the street. The sidewalks on both sides of Main Street were packed. Groups of people hustled from business to business carrying their day-glow green cards covered with stamps from the various places they had already visited. Groups of college students, friends from town, and entire, three-generational families strolled together from place to place. Many teams had planned their route ahead of time, hoping that efficiency would aid them in their quest. Most people dressed for the occasion. I saw deliciously ugly Christmas sweaters, Santa hats, and clothing that contained battery packs to keep the Christmas lights they wore twinkling all day long.

Our first stop was the Lazy River Bar and Grill, which is situated along the Kinnickinnic River that runs through town and gives it its name. We had a beer, Kathleen tasted her first chili, and we talked with a guy who explained how the whole thing worked. He wore a Santa hat with a plastic spoon tucked under the edge. No sense in using multiple spoons, I guess. The first chili was very good, and we quickly learned that, in Wisconsin, no chili is complete without cheese scattered on the top. We moved around the corner to a realty office, but a sign said, “No chili this year, Rick.” I love the fact that he signs with his first name, and everyone knows who he is. Next door, Broz Bar and Grill was packed to the gills with no way to really get inside, so we exercised options and moved down the street to the Maverick Corner Saloon. It was crowded, but we were able to squeeze into seats at the bar. I had a Spotted Cow, which seems to be the signature beer of a Wisconsin brewery called New Glarus. Good stuff. People came and went as we sipped our beer, and the crowd in the room turned over several times in about 20 minutes.

As we sat at the bar, taking it all in, a dour-looking man sat down next to me and ordered two Busch Lights. I nodded hello, but he seemed disinclined to engage in conversation, so I left him alone. When the girl behind the bar returned with his two beers, he ordered two more. I saw my opening, so, in my wise-ass way, I gestured toward his four beers and asked, “Are you expecting friends, or are you planning on a big afternoon?” Without cracking a grin or even looking directly at me, he deadpanned, “Both.” End of conversation.

We heard a commotion at the door, and a crowd of wildly dressed men came in, singing and having a great time. These guys had apparently taken literally the directive to don ye now their gay apparel, as they were decked out from head to toe in Christmas regalia. Christmas-tree hats blinked on and off, faces were painted, and elf slippers adorned each foot. They all carried the special River Dazzle cup that allowed them to carry liquor outside the bar, so they had clearly not been deprived of their concoction of choice while walking eleven feet to the next bar. One guy wore an outfit that was, in French artistic terms, a trompe l’oeil, or trick of the eye. (I learned this term while listening in on Robert Womack’s art history class at Harpeth Hall) It’s hard to describe, but it appeared as if he were being carried around on the back of an aged Santa Claus. Very clever costume. Eventually they rolled on out and we followed.

We tried several other places, including our favorite, the Nutty Squirrel, but they proved to be too crowded for our taste. About that time, I caught a glimpse of a frightening sight. Moving toward us with relentless speed, cutting a wake through the throngs of people like a World War II destroyer, with a maniacal gleam of holiday spirit in their eyes and a song on their lips, came my worst nightmare: Christmas carolers. This group all wore Victorian outfits that looked like something out of a Charles Dickens story. I’m not sure why they terrified me so much. I have the same reaction to mariachi singers and those annoying violin players who show up at your table in a romantic restaurant. (Okay; that never actually happened to me, but I’ve seen it in movies, and I live in mortal fear that it might occur someday). It all comes down to my uncertainty about how to behave properly. I mean, do I applaud? Do I sing along? Am I supposed to tip them? If so how much? Or, do I simply stand there with a stupid grin on my face and silently pray for them to leave? I know not what course others may take, but as for me, I did what I always do in socially awkward situations: I looked for the nearest available exit. I grabbed Kathleen’s arm and dragged her into the first doorway I saw.

It happened to be a Mexican Restaurant that was not participating in the Chili Crawl, but offered margaritas for $1. To recover from our narrow escape from a traumatic encounter, I had a fish-bowl sized one for three dollars while Kathleen had a smaller one and announced that she had had enough chili and liquor for the day. So, rather than the ten places she had vowed to hit, we had made it to two. I was reminded of the scene near the end of the Godfather where an aged Don Corleone says, “I don’t drink as much wine as I used to.”

We didn’t make it to the lighting of Main Street, and we were home before it got dark (as we usually are these days), but we discovered another fun tradition here in River Falls.

River Dazzle rules.