Long ago...behind us, across the street from our Lake House, a vibrant, wild, kid's camp called CAMP WILLABAY ...stood...It was hidden away...in the far corner of the Bay...Truly a treasured gem, whoever went there...so many trees....a dense forest with scattered cabins all about...
Zippity-Doo-Da...Zippity Aaayyy...Let's all go to Camp Willabay...Young teens would jump at the chance to escape the hustle & bustle of the city or their smaller towns and assume they would become better people...
Surely you become better at something by swatting a zillion killer mosquitos the size of Mongolia while enjoying all the woodland games & good times...and mild mischief...
The people running the camp were generally really cool with us outsiders because we would wander over there and hop on their trampoline, or play basketball, or tennis...(...yes, tennis was "Big"...back then...)
...all this...at the end of the day, while all the happy campers were at the cafeteria...It was all good...
I felt like I was falling into a character of the Bill Murray movie "Meatballs" because the cabins and kiddies and trees felt like a surreal movie set...
One funny camp story was when my brother Joe, one time, got a little crazy with his buddies one day and decided to try to ride the camps horses, bareback....Unfortunately, the camp counselors were not happy with this intrusion and chased Joe to an area of barbed wire....
His buddies made it through...but Joe got his ankle stuck, gnarled tight, in the grizzly barb wire and it shredded his skin to the bone....bleeding all over the place...
They rushed him to doctor here in the bay and stitched him up good...but it hampered Joe pretty bad for a few weeks...as my Dad made a wry, funny comment...
"Hey, hot shot, I guess we won't be seeing you walk around the lake anytime too soon....(something my brother had done, the day before....Joe walked all 27 miles around the path of Lake Geneva in 9 hours)...Joe was the oldest boy, in the family...and his wild ways, made me & Dan's wrongful steps as teenagers...not so bad...
Back to the old camp, it died out, eventually...and it got sold to a real estate developer and Boom...all the cabins and a bunch of trees are leveled to make room for a giant neat, condo complex. It sounds sad, in some ways....
...and it is...but life goes on and now 3 of my sisters have places over there, now....Patsy, Joan & Karen...and their families, all enjoy being solidified in the Bay...so close by....for at least 10 years.
The now established, Willabay Shores, still has a wonderful woodlands feel to it....but the trampoline...and other neat stuff are all gone...
One last memory, of Camp Willabay...On the final day...of camp....usually....they would flood, an open field of dirt...and roll out a giant 6 foot diameter high, ball...to play "Mudball"...It was hilarious, as 25 joyful kids were filthy dirty, drenched in soupy gray mud...
...pushing the ball, back and forth...As the camp kids finally got exhausted, from exertion trying to win the Mud-Ball mania...They would stumble down to our open park next door, completely caked in mud, moving like delerious, laughing Mud-Zillas towards the cleansing, cool waters of the the Bay...
Certainly, a funny, funny sight to see...and a memory, from long, long ago, that's hard to imagine nowadays, but in an instant always brings a smile to my face...anytime I see muddy kids on TV...
HOORAY...FOR CAMP WILLABAY...!!!
Friday, July 24, 2009
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
a relay to remember
On a hazy, lazy summer day, up at The Park...there was nobody around...in 1976...Where was everybody...the whole gang is gone...Am I being ditched...???...I wander up to the field house...and Rich the Park Instructor tells me...
"Get your buddies together, we are having a track meet here, today...Right Now...!!!..."
I don't know what to do, but somehow Fitz and Eddie B wander up, but Rich tells us, "You are gonna need a 4th guy to run the relay race..."
Us 3 look bewildered at each other..."Whadda we gonna do...???...Out of nowhere, Marty Rogers shows up, out of the blue...What strange luck to have us all together, right at that crazy moment...
So, we set up for the Relay, Fitz up first, ME the 2nd leg, Eddie B the 3rd leg, then Marty Rogers bringing it on home as the anchor...Have we gotta chance at winning, I ask Fitz and Fitz says, Don't worry about this, it's a piece of cake...
I never seen any of these kids who showed up by the carload, to race that day...I had no clue, what to expect...or did I...???...
The race starts...Fitzie's got a head full of steam, handing the baton to me, about 3 feet ahead of his counterparts....I took hold of the baton and darted, way fast, my mind racing faster than my feet. As my 2nd leg is finishing, I feel other competitors catching up.
Boom...I get a sudden burst and slap-over the baton to Eddie B, who rips the baton out of my hand and ferociously, takes off like an angry tiger...No-nonsense Eddie B, was in full power mode and out to do some damage, running each step, harder and harder.
Me & Fitz are bent over, huffing and puffing, with Fitz saying, "All Bar's gotta do, is get that baton over to Marty, without dropping it..."....And Eddie Bar, did just that, almost coming to a complete stop, just relaxing with a big lead...
...easily handing it to Marty, with a big smile, who takes off, in a puff of smoke. You see, everyone, all of my buddies know, Marty Rogers was quicker than lightning...His mercurial speed was amazing and he blew the competition away by 40 yards....
VICTORY WAS OURS...!!!...
I left the "track meet", after we got our trophies. Believe me, I was flying high...What a rush that was. Totally, out of the blue, excitement...It cleared my mind of missing the basketball cuts a few months back, and had me so sky high...But then, about a block from home, I dropped my trophy, to the ground, breaking it into 3 pieces...
I burst through my kitchen door, anyway, elated, on 86th Street....and threw the broken trophy on the kitchen table and told of my exciting day of running the relay...up at The Park...My Mom was very happy, and my Dad even smiled...He said to me..."Jimmy, jump in the car, let's go get that trophy fixed."
We rode up to some special novelty store 0ff 95th & Western with long aisles full of trophies...
My Dad slips the trophy guy a $10 bill and says..."Do what you can..."
Next thing, you know, I'm walking down the street with big golden column, with a golden runner on top..."....It's a top notch trophy now....and my Dad cleared away, all my brother Joe and Danny's dozen trophies...and set mine in the middle...looking like a million bucks...
It was a clear cut memory, that I would have some mark of acheivement, in my sports activities, and surely something I will never, ever, forget...Secretly, I think my Dad, wanted to show everyone he knew, his son was a bit disabled...
...But that, Jimmy, was never gonna stop, trying, to be his best, like my Uncle Jimmy, a great football player, my Dad, named me after...his brother, JIMMY O'LEARY, a star running back for Mount Carmel H.S. and University of Detroit...in the 1950's...
The wild relay race that day, put us 4 crazy kids together by pure chance, and it just felt like an unbelievable, magical day I didn't want to end...anytime soon...
(...BTW...I "googled" my Uncle Jimmy's name...and he was inducted into a Hall-of-Fame as a quite successful football coach...in the Detroit area...back in 1977...Jimmy had died tragically of a brain anyerism, in his early 30's...back in 1962...)
"Get your buddies together, we are having a track meet here, today...Right Now...!!!..."
I don't know what to do, but somehow Fitz and Eddie B wander up, but Rich tells us, "You are gonna need a 4th guy to run the relay race..."
Us 3 look bewildered at each other..."Whadda we gonna do...???...Out of nowhere, Marty Rogers shows up, out of the blue...What strange luck to have us all together, right at that crazy moment...
So, we set up for the Relay, Fitz up first, ME the 2nd leg, Eddie B the 3rd leg, then Marty Rogers bringing it on home as the anchor...Have we gotta chance at winning, I ask Fitz and Fitz says, Don't worry about this, it's a piece of cake...
I never seen any of these kids who showed up by the carload, to race that day...I had no clue, what to expect...or did I...???...
The race starts...Fitzie's got a head full of steam, handing the baton to me, about 3 feet ahead of his counterparts....I took hold of the baton and darted, way fast, my mind racing faster than my feet. As my 2nd leg is finishing, I feel other competitors catching up.
Boom...I get a sudden burst and slap-over the baton to Eddie B, who rips the baton out of my hand and ferociously, takes off like an angry tiger...No-nonsense Eddie B, was in full power mode and out to do some damage, running each step, harder and harder.
Me & Fitz are bent over, huffing and puffing, with Fitz saying, "All Bar's gotta do, is get that baton over to Marty, without dropping it..."....And Eddie Bar, did just that, almost coming to a complete stop, just relaxing with a big lead...
...easily handing it to Marty, with a big smile, who takes off, in a puff of smoke. You see, everyone, all of my buddies know, Marty Rogers was quicker than lightning...His mercurial speed was amazing and he blew the competition away by 40 yards....
VICTORY WAS OURS...!!!...
I left the "track meet", after we got our trophies. Believe me, I was flying high...What a rush that was. Totally, out of the blue, excitement...It cleared my mind of missing the basketball cuts a few months back, and had me so sky high...But then, about a block from home, I dropped my trophy, to the ground, breaking it into 3 pieces...
I burst through my kitchen door, anyway, elated, on 86th Street....and threw the broken trophy on the kitchen table and told of my exciting day of running the relay...up at The Park...My Mom was very happy, and my Dad even smiled...He said to me..."Jimmy, jump in the car, let's go get that trophy fixed."
We rode up to some special novelty store 0ff 95th & Western with long aisles full of trophies...
My Dad slips the trophy guy a $10 bill and says..."Do what you can..."
Next thing, you know, I'm walking down the street with big golden column, with a golden runner on top..."....It's a top notch trophy now....and my Dad cleared away, all my brother Joe and Danny's dozen trophies...and set mine in the middle...looking like a million bucks...
It was a clear cut memory, that I would have some mark of acheivement, in my sports activities, and surely something I will never, ever, forget...Secretly, I think my Dad, wanted to show everyone he knew, his son was a bit disabled...
...But that, Jimmy, was never gonna stop, trying, to be his best, like my Uncle Jimmy, a great football player, my Dad, named me after...his brother, JIMMY O'LEARY, a star running back for Mount Carmel H.S. and University of Detroit...in the 1950's...
The wild relay race that day, put us 4 crazy kids together by pure chance, and it just felt like an unbelievable, magical day I didn't want to end...anytime soon...
(...BTW...I "googled" my Uncle Jimmy's name...and he was inducted into a Hall-of-Fame as a quite successful football coach...in the Detroit area...back in 1977...Jimmy had died tragically of a brain anyerism, in his early 30's...back in 1962...)
Friday, July 17, 2009
John Fitz & Danny Casey
I knew Johnny Fitz & Danny Casey since the 3rd Grade....They only lived a couple blocks away, next to The Park, on 85th Street...and they were street-wise and cool as you get.
Wild kids, sure, but they also had wonderful family atmospheres abound. Danny had an old grandfather we would always be amazed by his wry humor as Danny sent zingers at him, to get him riled...But the old codger knew it was a fun game they shared and everyone had a big ol' laugh from the antics....
Johnny Fitzpatrick down the street, had 2 brothers to rough it up with and just an onslaught, make it a passion of being the best basketball player, he could be....They had a blacktop cement pavement top, featuring your typical basketball net strung on the garage....
The basketball seemed to really bounce higher in Fitz's backyard lot...and it gave you a bit of zip, roughing it up, with endless games of HORSE and pick-up games that would go on until it got too dark....
The Fitz's were your proto-typical Irish South-Siders...his Dad a valiant Fireman and his Mom taking care of the 3 boys, Mike & John & Jimmy and little sister Maura too...I always remember going into Fitz's kitchen with WGN-AM radio 720 blasting away...
John's Mom quickly throwing dinner together, as his Dad would walk in, covered in smolten ash. Mister Fitz worked in the harder neighborhoods, where he had more than his fair share of brushes with fire danger...
Meanwhile....Us kids, all us silly little nomads, making it an adventure every day....
One time, me and Fitz, got a ride out to this new indoor amusement park, called OLD CHICAGO. It was indoors....wow....but it was far, far away in a suburb called Bolingbrook, that had a rugged indoor roller coaster, that was super cool, looking in the constant commercials on TV....
Well the 2 of us, Fitz & Me...first, got on a ride called THE SPYDER, that spun you in wacky wild action, up and down and spinning....It was quite thrilling until John started barfing his guts out, 30 seconds into the ride...
Here's this vicious vomit, spewing out, flying out in a chaotic blast, sending shrieks, for other riders. I got hit with some of it.....TTTHHHWAAACCKKKK....!!!...
But others, unfortunately, faired much worse....probably some sticky & cheesy red Chef-Boy-ardee ravioli found its way across the entire park....at that moment...lol...
I too can recall when Fitz and Me and Hop and Danny were gonna start a band...I was gonna play harmonica and we actually tried to play a song together which turned out massively atrocious. See, Hop's older brother, Mike, had started a great "garage band"...so why not us....
Back then, Mister Fitz was the coach of the junior varsity in the 7th Grade basketball team. I gave it a shot...and I could execute running up and down the entire court and throwing the ball up for a lay-up, flawlessly....and as luck would have it....That drill was the final drill that would decide the final cuts....
Boom...I'm flawlessly getting the job done...while the bigger kids stumbled a bit from the added pressure....At the end...I was the last one cut from the team...It was kinda devastating for me, but Mister Fitz had John tell me...I'd never last if I got double-or-triple teamed as a game wound down....and they were right...I was much too short, to handle some ugly scrum, for a ball, so it didn't sting as much....
A classic young FITZ moment when he wasn't as punky....was when we raced home from Saint Thomas More because John wanted to learn to play the Beatles song...YELLOW SUBMARINE...on his trumpet...This was a genuine cool song. Fitz had the sheet music and he puckered up, ready to rock it out with his new trumpet....
Well, John got about 3 notes into the song and it just fell off the Earth and sounded like the most gurgly ill, spasmic noise, ever heard on any planet...We all laugthed at his trumpet efforts...but Fitz didn't care....He knew he'd get it right....with a little practice...
At heart, we were all good kids, who thought we could talk the talk and walk the walk with any punks we encountered....And...All 3 of us went on to Brother Rice High School...Fitz, Case & Me, a few years later and are still very proud of going there, too...
Wild kids, sure, but they also had wonderful family atmospheres abound. Danny had an old grandfather we would always be amazed by his wry humor as Danny sent zingers at him, to get him riled...But the old codger knew it was a fun game they shared and everyone had a big ol' laugh from the antics....
Johnny Fitzpatrick down the street, had 2 brothers to rough it up with and just an onslaught, make it a passion of being the best basketball player, he could be....They had a blacktop cement pavement top, featuring your typical basketball net strung on the garage....
The basketball seemed to really bounce higher in Fitz's backyard lot...and it gave you a bit of zip, roughing it up, with endless games of HORSE and pick-up games that would go on until it got too dark....
The Fitz's were your proto-typical Irish South-Siders...his Dad a valiant Fireman and his Mom taking care of the 3 boys, Mike & John & Jimmy and little sister Maura too...I always remember going into Fitz's kitchen with WGN-AM radio 720 blasting away...
John's Mom quickly throwing dinner together, as his Dad would walk in, covered in smolten ash. Mister Fitz worked in the harder neighborhoods, where he had more than his fair share of brushes with fire danger...
Meanwhile....Us kids, all us silly little nomads, making it an adventure every day....
One time, me and Fitz, got a ride out to this new indoor amusement park, called OLD CHICAGO. It was indoors....wow....but it was far, far away in a suburb called Bolingbrook, that had a rugged indoor roller coaster, that was super cool, looking in the constant commercials on TV....
Well the 2 of us, Fitz & Me...first, got on a ride called THE SPYDER, that spun you in wacky wild action, up and down and spinning....It was quite thrilling until John started barfing his guts out, 30 seconds into the ride...
Here's this vicious vomit, spewing out, flying out in a chaotic blast, sending shrieks, for other riders. I got hit with some of it.....TTTHHHWAAACCKKKK....!!!...
But others, unfortunately, faired much worse....probably some sticky & cheesy red Chef-Boy-ardee ravioli found its way across the entire park....at that moment...lol...
I too can recall when Fitz and Me and Hop and Danny were gonna start a band...I was gonna play harmonica and we actually tried to play a song together which turned out massively atrocious. See, Hop's older brother, Mike, had started a great "garage band"...so why not us....
Back then, Mister Fitz was the coach of the junior varsity in the 7th Grade basketball team. I gave it a shot...and I could execute running up and down the entire court and throwing the ball up for a lay-up, flawlessly....and as luck would have it....That drill was the final drill that would decide the final cuts....
Boom...I'm flawlessly getting the job done...while the bigger kids stumbled a bit from the added pressure....At the end...I was the last one cut from the team...It was kinda devastating for me, but Mister Fitz had John tell me...I'd never last if I got double-or-triple teamed as a game wound down....and they were right...I was much too short, to handle some ugly scrum, for a ball, so it didn't sting as much....
A classic young FITZ moment when he wasn't as punky....was when we raced home from Saint Thomas More because John wanted to learn to play the Beatles song...YELLOW SUBMARINE...on his trumpet...This was a genuine cool song. Fitz had the sheet music and he puckered up, ready to rock it out with his new trumpet....
Well, John got about 3 notes into the song and it just fell off the Earth and sounded like the most gurgly ill, spasmic noise, ever heard on any planet...We all laugthed at his trumpet efforts...but Fitz didn't care....He knew he'd get it right....with a little practice...
At heart, we were all good kids, who thought we could talk the talk and walk the walk with any punks we encountered....And...All 3 of us went on to Brother Rice High School...Fitz, Case & Me, a few years later and are still very proud of going there, too...
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