Burning Gas-Lake Louise

Posted on 08/04/2011 by Grumpa Joe

We left Calgary on a sunny warm morning for Banff National Park. I expected Banff to be similar to the National Parks in the USA. It isn’t, yet it is. The place is huge, and it is beautiful, but Banff is a city within a national park called Banff. The QEW-1(Queen Elizabeth Way), the transnational Canada highway runs right through the park on the way to Vancouver. The city of Banff population is eight thousand souls. The economy is dependent on  tourism in the summer and skiing in winter. The main drag through town has a distinct European look with Swiss style buildings side by side. Shops of all kinds abound and cater to the tourist. Every street has great eating places. We stayed in a small hotel near the central district. It was ninety degrees when we arrived.

Grandma Peggy and I settled into the room, and looked around for the air conditioner switch. We were wilting and needed some cool. I called the desk for help. A nice woman knocked on the door and proceeded to pull a large fan from the closet, and plugged it in. “Banff has about three days like this every year. We don’t have air-conditioning,” she explained as she opened the slider.

Early the next morning I sat on the balcony drinking coffee while watching people going about their business. It was a joy to see kids walking to school with book bags on their backs. I don’t think anyone lives more than a mile from the school, or for that matter from anyplace within the town. A strange quiet envelops Banff. Other than the birds singing, there are few motor noises to pollute the atmosphere of the town.

We left town to see the park, there were no overlooks like there are in the states. We tooled along on the QEW-1 at one hundred km per hour. A curious cyclone fence borders the road along each side of the divided highway. The fences occasionally dipped toward a culvert, or up to an overpass. We learned that animals migrate  from the mountains across the highway to the lakes at lower levels. Every year there is a huge road kill. The government built the fence to direct the animals toward underpasses or overpasses to keep them off the roads, Conservationists like to think that the Canadian government is on the same page as they are, but the simple fact is that when a car or truck hits an eight hundred pound animal on the road, death occurs; both human and animals with an enormous dollar cost to freight and transportation. Between Banff and Lake Louise, our destination there were at least six of these crossings with several more in construction.

Lake Louise is what we came to see. Banff is a cutesy town, but Lake Louise is nature in all its splendor. This glacial lake is at the foot of mountain top glacier feeding it. The water is crystal clear, but has a gray cast to it. It is not as clear as I thought. The color is the result of glacial till. The till is a very fine powder of granite rock ground off the mountain by moving glacial ice. The particles of powder are so fine they become suspended in the water. The result is the beautiful blue-gray color.

Several months before we left on this trip, the Chicago Tribune travel section featured a story on Lake Louise. The leading photograph showed a couple sitting in the Fairmont hotel having lunch while looking out on the view. What a great view, I thought. I never imagined seeing that same view for myself. In fact, we sat one table away from the couple in the Trib photo.

Banff National Park is beautiful, and compares to our own Glacier National Park in Montana. They are adjacent too each other. Banff the town is a fun tourist town worth the visit, but Lake Louise is a “do not miss” scene of splendorific nature.

Shops and Hotels along the main street in Banff, Alberta

Bridge for animals along QEW-1 enroute to Lake Louise

Stream flowing from Lake Louise

Pollination in process

Pink Poppy

 

Glacier feeding Lake Louise

Lake Louise, Alberta, Canada

Trail to the foot of the Glacier

Trail along the lake to the foot of the glacier

The Fairmont Chateau from across the lake

Flower bed in front of the Chateau

Poppies with bees

Pollination in process

Pink Poppy

Reflections of the Fairmont

The Fairmont Chateau, Lake Louise

The Window View From the Chateau

Fairmont Lobby

Serenity Abounds

Through the Magnificent Trees

Filed under: Biography, Travel | Tagged: , , , , , , , | 3 Comments »

Life Can Change in a Moment

Posted on 07/04/2011 by Grumpa Joe

The summer after freshman year in high school was one of my best. My level of activity was high. I had achieved a new level of ability and confidence. I filled the days with activity that involved my grammar school friends. During the school year we were not able to spend time with each other as before because of all our school activities. Some of my friends got jobs that kept them from hanging around as much. My own job was becoming more a part of my life. Mr. Tumey increased my hours, so I worked several days during the week, and on Saturday too. In between all the grocery work, I caddied at Ravisloe Country Club as often as I could. In spite of all the activities, the old gang met in the evenings after supper. We hung out at each other’s homes, at the corner store, or at the soda fountain. On most nights, I got home by 10 p.m. After ten we collected on someone’s front porch for a while. I played golf often with Joe Barath, Rich Makowski and Jack Adams. Most of the time, we rode to Jackson Park golf course on the street car; clubs and all.

The newspapers headlined stories about the polio epidemic almost daily. Mom kept me away from the beaches and crowded places where I might come in contact with the virus. Our gang wasn’t big for beaches anyway, although we did occasionally take the streetcar to Rainbow Beach near 75th Street.

The summer of 1953 was hot and dry. I rode my bike to and from Tumey’s, and pedaled anywhere I needed to go in the neighborhood. If a friend was with me I let him sit on the top tube while I pedaled. The big basket hanging off the front made it impossible to ride someone on the handlebars.

In August, I celebrated my fifteenth birthday. School was only a few weeks away and I dreamed about trying out for football. A lot of my friends were going to do the same at their schools. On the Monday after my birthday, I remember playing eighteen holes of golf with my buddies in the morning. We got home by noon. After lunch, I rode to Tumey’s on an intensely hot sunny afternoon, and delivered groceries until closing. The temperature was in the ninety’s during the ride home. After supper I went to hang with my friends. That night we had a great time socializing, and stayed out on the porch until eleven. Finally, I went to bed. The next day was another work day.

I slept late, and woke up with a giant headache. My throat hurt so bad it hurt to swallow. When I rolled out of bed, my neck was stiff, and so sore I couldn’t move my head. Mom came to check on me. She felt my forehead and declared that I had a fever. I went back to sleep. When I didn’t get out of bed at noon she checked my temp with the glass thermometer. She called Dr. Horner to ask for advice. He said he would come over after his office hours.

Dr. Horner’s office was on 79th and Cottage Grove Avenue so it wasn’t far for him to come by car. My neck kept getting stiffer and stiffer, my throat was on fire, and I ached from head to toe with the fever. Bright light from the window made my head hurt more. I slept most of the day. The doctor arrived around supper and examined me. He took Mom outside to talk. He told her that I had polio and needed to be hospitalized immediately. It took a couple of hours, but that night an ambulance took me to Contagious Disease Hospital at 26th and California.

By the time I got my ride in the ambulance, I didn’t care what was happening. The fever made me delirious. Visions of football tryout looped continuously through my mind . . .

Filed under: Biography, health care, Jun-e-or, Memories | Tagged: , , , , , , | Leave a comment »

Pea Pod Prototype

Posted on 06/04/2011 by Grumpa Joe
Black and White image of Delibike in Buenos Aires

Image via Wikipedia

The Pea Pod Prototype

During the second semester of freshman year I befriended a boy named Frank, who lived in Roseland. He also rode his bike to school every day. He told me about a really great after school job he had delivering groceries for Tumey’s grocery store at 115th and Wentworth. Frank said the store owner could always use help on a part time basis. He probably wanted to quit his job and needed to recruit his replacement.

At home, I approached Mom with the idea of allowing me to work at Tumey’s after school. I already rode my bike to school, and the store was just another half mile further. She agreed and I went to Tumey’s with Frank to apply for the job.

My bike had a big basket mounted on the front from my paper route, and it was ready for the job. Mr. Tumey hired me for two days a week. At first I didn’t get to deliver anything. Mr. Tumey handed me a broom, and told me to sweep the floor. I did a great job of it. Next, he asked me to stack cereal boxes on the top shelf. I used the tongs on the end of a long pole to put them up there. The next time, he gave me a bucket of ammonia water, a brush on a pole, and a large squeegee. He took me outside and showed me how to wash the windows. Each day I went, he had another job for me.

Eventually, a telephone order came for groceries. Mrs. Tumey made a list on a paper-bag. When the list was done she wrote the address on the same bag. The Tumey’s knew all of the phone customers very well because the same people also shopped in the store when they could.

Mrs. Tumey ran around the little store collecting all of the items on the list and put them into a box. Mr. Tumey cut the meat items and wrapped them. Once she completed the list, she added the bill and recorded the amount on a receipt in her book. One copy went to the customer, the other stayed in the book.

It was time for delivery, and they called me from my sweeping job to take the order. Finally, after a couple of weeks at work I would be delivering groceries on my trusty bike.

The box looked very large, but I put both arms around it and lifted. Wow! That box was heavy. I could barely make it out the front door. Outside, I stood in front of the bike holding a box which made the veins pop out of my head. How do I get the box into the basket when the bike is leaning over on the kickstand? I took the box back in, then came out and propped the bike against the building. I wrestled the box up into the basket. It hung up on the wires half way in. That’s stupid, I told myself, the next time I’ll fit the empty box into the basket before she loads it up.

During the next challenge I rode three blocks with this huge load up front. My Sunday newspaper loads were heavy too, and I was accustomed to a loaded front wheel, but this box was at least double the heaviest paper load.

With every bump I heard bottles clinking against each other. Now, I know why Schwinn sells a delivery bike with the small front wheel and the huge basket. I wished I had one right then and there! My basket stood high above the wheel and made the bike unstable with a high center of gravity. On a delivery bike the load is low to the ground. A delivery bike also has a kick stand that holds the front wheel straight and off the ground. It keeps the bike rock solid. The basket is lower and wider making it much easier to load and unload.

My first delivery went to a customer who lived on a block of two and three flats. This lady lived on the third floor. I had to use the open back stairway for delivery. Somehow, I wrestled the box out of the basket. The road vibration had settled it in place. Miraculously, the bike didn’t tip over while I pried the box from the basket, and nothing fell out.

The box weighed at least thirty pounds, and I weighed ninety. The climb up the stairs was like climbing Mount Everest. By the time I got to the last landing my arms were tired, my legs were shaking, and I could feel the box slipping out of my fingers. What did I get myself into, I kept thinking?

God was with me all the way because I made it. I pressed the bell with a knuckle and then rested by pushing the box against the building. The lady took her sweet time to answer the door but finally came. She told me to place the box on the kitchen table. I politely handed her the bill and she paid. Ceremoniously, she awarded me with a quarter.

As I rode back, I felt a cold breeze drying the hot sweat from my back.

That first trip taught me a lot about packing boxes, and making them lighter. It made sense to split a large heavy load into a couple of trips.

The Tumey’s had a son named Gil. He didn’t work in the store. Gill came home from school in his baseball uniform. He played on the Fenger High School team and practiced after school. He came in, kissed his mom, said hi to his dad, grabbed a snack, and disappeared to the apartment upstairs.

When the store closed at 5:30 I rode home taking every short cut I knew and rolled in at 6:00 p.m. just as Mom put supper on the table.

Related Articles

Filed under: Biography, family, Jun-e-or, Society | Tagged: , , , , , , , , , , | 3 Comments »

Burning Gas-Calgary

Posted on 04/04/2011 by Grumpa Joe

For many years the Calgary Stampede has stewed in the back of my mind. As a young man I dreamed of attending the event. It has not happened yet, and probably never will. My vision of Calgary has been of the Stampede. A small town with a big rodeo stadium and a large field campground is what I see when I think of Calgary.

Grandma Peggy and I drove west out of Yellowstone Park into Idaho. We followed US-191 northward. The road is a narrow two lane highway which winds through the mountains bordering Wyoming and Idaho into Montana.  The locals have a practice of placing a cross on the site of any accident that results in death. White crosses fill the shoulders of both sides of the pavement. I lost count at fifty-five crosses. The most was seven at one site. As scenic as this road is, I wanted to get off as quickly as possible. The odds of an accident on this stretch were too high for me.

We finally pulled into Belgrade, Montana to spend the night. Our plan was to drive to Banff, Alberta, Canada the next day. I checked our reservations for the hotel and realized that I missed two days during planning. In addition to that, I under estimated the drive; the distance between Belgrade and Banff was further than I could drive in daylight.  The plan changed and we decided to spend some time in Calgary. Luckily, I found a hotel in downtown Calgary, and reserved two nights. I still envisioned Calgary as a small town with a motel on each end of town.

Chuckwagon racing at the 2009 Calgary Stampede.

Image via Wikipedia

Peggy and I arrived in Calgary the following evening as the sun set. The scope and beauty of the city amazed me. It rivals Chicago in the size of its central business district. There is a huge difference, however, the buildings in Chicago are much taller.

We walked to the historic area from our hotel. What we found was totally charming. The town has mixed the old with contemporary architecture, and created a walking mall out of the street passing through the shopping district. The mall has banks, municipal buildings, shops, monuments, and sidewalk cafe’s. Intermixed between are small parks filled with beautiful flowers, and many life-size sculptures.

The Calgary Stampede is a huge event, but is held in a special arena the size of a fairground. People from all over the world attend the event. Thankfully, the Stampede passed before we arrived. Had we coincided, getting a hotel would have been impossible.

After visiting Calgary, I want to attend the Stampede more than ever before.

My photos of the city tour are below:

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

Related Articles

Filed under: family, Memories, Travel | Tagged: , , , , , | Leave a comment »

Hand Made In the USA

Posted on 02/04/2011 by Grumpa Joe

One of my favorite times at Mendel was the wood shop class. The class met three times a week for two hours. I had some exposure to woodworking from my grammar school experiences at the Tuley Park boat building shop. This class was different. Father Hennessey, my instructor, believed in teaching the basics. At Tuley Park, I jumped into a project and started cutting wood. At Mendel, I had to learn the name and function of every tool before Father let me touch a single one.

For the first assignment, Father H. gave me a block of maple wood to square up using only a chisel and a square. It sounded too easy, but I almost didn’t finish the assignment on time. Father H. came around the benches and asked for the piece. He inspected every corner, every edge, and every surface for square and for flatness. If any sliver of light showed under the square he bounced the piece, and sent me back to the bench to do better. The piece also had to be within the tolerance he specified.  Father Hennessey was a tough, but fair teacher.

The next project was a more complicated. We had to make a chevron-shield with separate wooden letter “M” applied to it. The last project was a table lamp that looked like a hand water pump. Pushing on the pump handle turned on the light. This little lamp was in continuous use over the years serving me well at all of my desks.

Fr. H. was a tough disciplinarian. If he caught you using a tool incorrectly, he jerked it out of your hand, and hit you with it. He also had a habit of squeezing the muscle on your shoulder, the one that stretches from your neck to the shoulder. It hurt so bad that I dropped to the floor to get out of the grip. Fr. H. hardly ever had a problem with anybody in his class.

Safety was paramount in the shop. During my semester there was not a single incidence of injury. Even though the school shop had all the power tools as I used at Tuley Park, I never got to use any of them.  Only Fr. Hennessey ever used the tools powered by electricity. The experience gave me an appreciation for the term “handmade.”

Related Articles

Filed under: Biography, Characters I knew, family, Jun-e-or, Memories | Tagged: , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment »

« Previous Page — Next Page »