Between Yesterday and Tomorrow

The past walks with me every step of the way, colors where I go, what I say. So one recent Saturday I went to a rummage sale only because it was next door to the duplex where Pearl lived. I hadn't run into her in ages, but I often think about her, especially when I pass her house.

"Is Pearl still around?" I asked the rummage-seller.
"No, she died a couple of years ago."
"She was a nice woman," I said, as my sunny day turned grey.
"She was a VERY nice woman," replied the seller.
"How old was she?"
"Ninety-one. She lived a good life. And the owner of the duplex would check every day to make sure she was all right."
"Did you ever see her son?" I asked, aware that the only thing I knew about him was the city he lives in.
"I've lived here 48 years, only met him twice."
"Yes, she never wanted to talk about him," I commented.
"She was so nice. She didn't deserve that."
"I knew her from the Shorewood Pool."
"Oh, yes, she swam every single day."
And so did I. For well over twenty years. How many hundreds of half-naked chats did we have in the locker room?

Pearl radiated warmth and acceptance. She resembled my mother, in appearance, in demeanor. They were both themselves, no pretensions. And they surely came from the same part of the world. I always wanted to introduce them to each other. As I left the rummage sale it struck me that Pearl would be 93 if she were still alive, and so would my mother. Did Pearl lead a good life, despite the absence of her son? All those chats, and I have no idea of the answer. I don't know how she spent her days, what she did, who she was, yet I do know that her death means one more layer of warmth and acceptance has left my life.

Just when I think no one's reading these blogs, I'll get a message from someone who is. And here are two of them to think about:

Dear Suzanne,
Your point about Shorewood spending money on pesticides vs. spending money on plowing sidewalks is a good one. I know that recently someone had publicly complained about dandelions “ruining” expensive landscaping, but I don't understand all-out battles against nature that require toxins that get tracked into our homes. Then again, I think a field of dandelions is quite lovely, just like the natural gardens around Shorewood and the beautiful wildflowers and weeds along the bike path.
If Shorewood wants to boost itself as a walkable neighborhood, the snowy, icy sidewalk situation in winter needs to be addressed. Last winter, many senior citizens in Shorewood were upset that often people don't shovel until long after it snows, either because they're at work, or their snow shoveling service is lax about how quickly they shovel-or maybe some businesses, homeowners, and landlords just don't care all that much. I live near the library and senior center and last winter often the nearby sidewalks were covered with snow and ice long into the evening after a morning snowfall. Why spend money putting toxins into our environment instead of clearing sidewalks so senior citizens don't slip and fall?
And speaking of being health conscious, what about the health benefits of shoveling with an old fashioned shovel? I try to shovel my driveway and both sides of our corner lot rather than wait for the management company to arrive, just to get a nice upper body workout in the fresh air. I've even run a shovel down the sidewalk for a couple of blocks-as far as I could go before I pooped out. I'm finding that shoveling can be a wonderfully quiet and peaceful activity, with the only sound being the snow shovel scraping against the sidewalk and the “poof” of a shovelful hitting a snow bank. I know shoveling can get “old” after a few snowfalls, but hey, that's true of using a stair machine, too. Something for Shorewood residents to think about this winter-a great workout in the fresh air, a chance to perform a random act of kindness for your neighbors . . . a little shift in perception could be a good thing. And doesn't a stint communing with those cold, white flakes sound lovely now that it's August?
Nancy

I think we should try to create an ordinance prohibiting duck hunting in Shorewood. I don’t think you'd have much of a problem finding supporters…

Here's the Milwaukee Ordinance: Chapter 63 Parks and Parkways
63-13. Hunting or Trapping.
No person shall engage in trapping or hunting within any park or parkway without a written permit from the department.
63-21. Fish, Waterfowl and Game Birds.
2. Waterfowl and Game Birds.
No person shall kill, injure or attempt to injure or unnecessarily
disturb any waterfowl or other birds or animals, wild or domestic,
within any of the parks or parkways. No person shall rob or disturb the nest or eggs of any bird or other animal therein.

Do you have any idea how to get this started?

Marie S

(We've had out-of-town guests, so I'm way behind in posting my blogs!)
7/31/06 I guess there's still a reckless streak in me, but I'm here. I made it home last night.

At this time of year Adolph and I, when possible, have a distinctive pattern: he drives, I bike, and we meet at our destination, which last night was Pandl's, a 7-mile ride. Although our whole family is in town at the moment, we didn't want to miss the surprise party for Benji, of Benji's Kosher Deli fame. When we bought our house in 1969, Adolph's half of the decision was based mainly on the facts that we'd be two blocks from Benji's, and we'd have a ping pong table in our basement. Benji's is still there, the ping pong table fell apart long ago.

I didn't know what to make of Benji's gruffness and subtle humor when I first met him almost forty years ago, but I soon realized what a warm, caring person he is. And last night, even though they couldn't order corned beef, the whole deli crowd was at Pandl's to show their appreciation and love for him.

Benji opened up the deli in 1963, luckily for us, so it was still a young deli when we moved nearby. I unexpectedly became a writer in 1977, and after swimming at the Shorewood Pool at 6:30 every morning, I'd have breakfast at Benji's and stay to write all morning, nursing my coffee and noodle kugel with sour cream. A group of loud and aging Jewish men pushed the tables together every day and shouted, joked, smoked, and hopplepoppled themselves to early deaths. I enjoyed watching them and listening in. In fact some mornings I'd bring a drawing pad along with my writing pad. And for several months Adolph brought his clay and sculpted there, on the spot. Benji graciously tolerated the trail of dried-up clay.

Adolph still goes there for breakfast. Once I discovered I have a cholesterol problem, my kugel days were over, and I migrated to the Oakland Cafe, where I wrote poems and drew a series of wordrawings, Three Ladies in Their Eighties , after my early morning swim. Adolph continued to schmooze with the large male contingent at Benji's. Someone said last night, Benji likes to joke that a thousand flies can't be wrong. I'd change that to a thousand guys.

I'd intended to put my bike into the car after last night's surprise party, but that seemed like a project. As the sun was setting I became more and more aware that I hated the idea of getting into an enclosed car and being driven when I could pedal in the open air and get home under my own steam. The idea was so appealing that at 9 PM, just before the birthday cake, I said good-bye, put on my helmet, unlocked my bike, turned on the front and back blinkers, and started out. I did wonder if I really could make it. It seemed like a foolish chance to take when the whole family is in town. Adolph clearly thought he might never see me again!

The trip made me fully appreciate Shorewood, and even Whitefish Bay. When I'm in a car at night, I don't notice there's not a single street light in Bayside and Fox Point, anyway none along Fielding nor Lake Drive. Fielding, with ditches instead of sidewalks, was eerie at 9 PM, completely silent, no cars, no people, no light except my blinking headlight. If I figured Lake Drive would be safer, I was wrong. It was worse. I had planned to go along the bike path a few feet from the road, but couldn't see. If I adjusted the headlight downward, I could avoid holes, rocks, whatever else was on the path, but could see only about ten feet ahead of me. If I pointed it higher up, the opposite was true. It took me forever to realize that I should set the light so it wouldn't blink! Shorewood street lights are dim, but it's possible to see, so I usually use the headlight mainly to make sure I'm visible to others. Biking in Bayside and Fox Point was more like biking in pea soup. Oncoming cars blinded me, not that there were many of them. And I couldn't see the cross streets till I was crossing them! So I rode at about five miles per hour, and was thankful no one else was using the path. This was the longest 36 blocks I've ever ridden! Then finally, finally, I saw the lights, of Whitefish Bay and soon after that, Shorewood, and I breezed home.

I hesitate to mention this. But now that I know about it, I have to. Fall is hunting season in Shorewood. And the prey isn't even those pesky rabbits who run in circles in our neighbors' yard to build up their appetites for the vegetables in my garden. No, it's ducks. Don't take a dawn boat ride off Atwater Beach in the fall; or if you do, wear orange.

I just learned about this; one of my friends, who lives on Lake Drive, has known since October 2005. One morning before dawn, he was awakened by popping sounds. Could that be gun shots? He called the Shorewood police, and an officer investigated. Yes, it was gun shots, shotgun shots. And it was legal! The DNR allows duck hunting on Lake Michigan from boats at least 500 feet from shore during duck hunting season, between October and December, from a half hour before sunrise to sunset. Milwaukee has an ordinance prohibiting this; Shorewood doesn't.

This raises some questions in my mind. Who's got the measuring tape? Can hunters shoot towards shore? How far do shotgun shots travel? Are there "beware of pellet" signs anywhere to warn unsuspecting boaters?

I asked several friends if they know about duck hunting here. The only person who knew was a duck hunter. So I was thinking that sometime we should have a ballot with referenda unique to Shorewood. The first could be: since we can't afford both, shall we plow sidewalks when the snow is deep or poison public land when the dandelions are deep? The second could be: should hunters be permitted to shoot ducks at dawn, or should we let our ducks and residents sleep? If anyone has additional ideas, let me know.

7/24/06 Clomp. I'm sitting on a landing on the wooden steps that lead down to Atwater Beach, and I can't decipher the sound approaching from behind. Clomp, clomp, closer. I turn my head slightly: a dog on a leash tugs past, pulling his master, a boy around twelve. He's the clomper!145 steps, on roller blades. He grasps the railing, turns his feet sideways. Once he makes it safely to the bottom, he takes off his roller blades, rushes to the water, wades in, and lifts the dog over the waves.

A young woman trots up and down the flights as if she were weightless, yet she must have lungs and legs of steel. Every few minutes she passes me as I sit on a bench to write. Now there's a loud panting coming from behind, another dog, hot and struggling. I watch to make sure his owner knows enough to give him water. Once down below, his owner unleashes him, and he joyously dashes into the lake, bounces in circles on the sand, the pain of panting overshadowed by the freedom to prance. Meantime the young woman continues to trot, up and down, now two steps at a time.

Last night some friends were worried about allowing their children to go to Atwater Beach. Shorewood stopped hiring a lifeguard a year or two ago. "What are they saving?" commented Sarah G, "Six dollars an hour? I wanted to at least sign my kids up for a water safety class. There wasn't one till the end of August! They said take swimming. Swimming isn't water safety."

I look down on the beach. The shoreline's full of Sunday evening swimmers. The young woman is still yoyoing up and down the flights that so many can barely navigate. I once asked someone else who was running up and down how many round trips he makes in one day. Thirty.

Thelma L just came up, "That was great!"
"I notice there's no lifeguard anymore" I say.
"Oh, they're cutting back on all sorts of services," she replies.
I think about that. Last winter the village stopped clearing the sidewalks when the snow's more than four inches deep. Too bad it can still afford to hire the landscape company to poison public land. What would people prefer if they had to choose, pesticides or plowing? I'm not too sure.

"Oh, hi," says a friend.
"Hi, how are you?" I reply.
"My pants are ready to fall down," he says, as he tugs at the waist of his bathing suit and continues down to the beach.

The trotter trots past, the rollerblader, blades on once again, trudges back up with his dog, and I walk to the bottom, then up 145 steps. At least I've walked the full round trip.