ND Women and Football

A number of the men I've interviewed have told me that one of their main concerns when ND went co-ed in 1972 was that the student body's football knowledge would suffer, thus making games less intense and less interesting. (Seriously, this was usually their only concern.) As it turns out, they needn't have worried. I'd pit just about any of my female ND friends or interview subjects against any of the guys on both knowledge of the game and fanaticism, and from what I hear, the games now are better than ever.

Some of the best stories on this trip have been from women talking about football games, and two of my favorites were in Houston. One was an attorney who went back to ND a few years after graduating for a football game. And she brought her non-ND boyfriend of about 6 months with her. At one point during the game, everyone's on their feet screaming, and the boyfriend is seated, studiously taking it in, and she leans over and whispers in his ear, "Your behavior at this football game will greatly influence the future of this relationship." And he was on his feet. Oh, and they're married now.

And then I asked Connie Klenke about the greatest ND game she ever been to, and she's like, oh, that's easy. After the 1990 Miami game, her husband proposed to her. Or as she put it, "That's when my husband proposed marriage to me...but the Irish also won the game, so it was a good day." That pretty much sums it up.

No Apollo 13 references, I promise...

...but I will say Ed Harris, not Tom Hanks, made that movie.

Anyway, the drive from Dallas to Houston is pretty boring in general (or so I am told by people who do it regularly), and the day I made the trip, there was this weird weather pattern that started as a cool rain in Dallas and ended up in Houston as kind of a sticky, tepid fog that made it hard to tell whether you were warm or cold. With that on top of my recent illness, I felt sort of drained and in a daze when I got to the Klenkes' house, where I would be staying for the next four nights. Not how you want to feel when you're about to walk into the home of someone you've never met...and did I mention they have six kids. But they were being so gracious to host me, so I sucked it up and went in and met Connie (the mom), then the kids, and the dog, and I sat down and had a drink of water with them while the older kids were doing their homework. And then I sort of quietly crept into my room and started trying to catch up on some work. But I left the door slightly ajar, and after a few minutes I realized I had an audience, of the shy, adorable 5-year-old girl variety.

Ten minutes later, I was assembling my gear to show the four children sitting on my bed what I do. These kids were easy to photograph because they were absolutely adorable, and the "interview" was quite surprising, as 3-year-old Maeve, when asked about her family, immediately announced that Mommy is pregnant again. Kindergartner Bridget and 8-year-old Creigh confirmed. The four girls want a girl, and the two boys want a boy, but they can all agree on one thing: they don't want to share their rooms. Anyway, Connie and Allan are both ND grads (Connie did undergrad there, and they met in the MBA program a few years later), and their entire family was an absolute delight to spend time with. Connie is yet another on-top-of-it mom (I've stayed with a number of those on this trip!), and the kids were so sweet, they brought me pictures they had colored in school.

I could go on about the Klenkes forever, but I will stop now so I can go on for awhile about another awesome family in Houston, my family's dear friends, the Halls. From the time I was about 4 until I turned 13, our family celebrated virtually every major holiday, and pretty much every other day, with the Halls. They had four boys, and when we all got together we were absolute terrors. (Well, we children were. We didn't pay too much attention to the grown-ups!) Then Terry got a job teaching at the University of St. Thomas in Houston (he and Valerie both teach there now), and aside from a quick visit with Zack (the oldest) last fall, I haven't seen them since they moved away. So it was really nice to catch up with Terry and Valerie, and Nick and his wife (!) and two well-behaved (!!) children, and Brendan, who is no longer 5 and no longer blond. It was fun to hear about what they're doing now and reminisce about the weird games we used to invent to occupy ourselves. And of course, our Halloween dominance in the Halls' neighborhood, despite the fact that every year someone wore a motion-limiting costume. It was a really wonderful evening.

I guess I haven't really said much about work here...my interviews in Houston were, for the most part, fantastic. The one that stands out the most looking back is my interview with a guy named Jason Brown, an '02 MBA grad. Jason is a singer/songwriter who got his MBA so he could market his music and start his own record company. He's a really good storyteller, and he had all kinds of stories about getting started with his music, and touring, and all of the sacrifices the music business entailed, but the thing that I remember most clearly from the interview was his story about going to the dining hall with his friends on Sunday morning. They'd trek from Fisher Grad over to South, they'd eat and hang out, and then they'd get up and go home. When I write it, it's totally boring; when he tells it, it's the most compelling story you've ever heard. Sorry, that probably doesn't make for an interesting read, but it will be a great listen if I ever get to the editing phase of this project!

Cheese and macaroni

I've been more behind on my updates than usual, but I'm hoping to do a little make-up blogging over the holidays...First, I want to clarify a couple of things about the last post, since I've gotten quite a few emails and comments (who knew Pee Wee Herman would generate such a response?!): The two lines quoted are in fact the only part of "Deep in the Heart of Texas" I know. And, for those of you who inquired, that is not my favorite part of that movie. My favorite part would be a toss-up between the part with the Mr. T cereal, the part where Pee Wee dances to "Tequila" and then rides a motorcycle into a billboard, the part where he rescues the snakes from the pet store and then passes out, or the part where the butler tells him Francis is taking a bath and Pee Wee says, "Oh, really? Where are they hosing him down?"...Actually, I think I love pretty much the whole movie, except the part with the scary trucker that freaks me out completely.

But I digress. One of the greatest coincidences of this trip happened during my second-to-last interview in Dallas, with John Conway. A little history: When I was a student at Notre Dame, I was on the staff of Scholastic magazine, the oldest continuous college publication in the US (or something like that), and every year around April 1, we published an edition known as Sarcastic lampooning various campus news, events, figureheads, etc. Those of us on staff who were historically minded liked to get inspiration from past editions of the magazine, one of our favorites being the 1986 Sarcastic. That beacon of cleverness and entertainment features a hilarious interview with the newly elected leaders of student government, who had run on the platform of starting a campus revolution by changing the dining hall nomenclature from "macaroni and cheese" to "cheese and macaroni." And they beat a guy who had been preparing to be student body president since Freshmen O. Ouch. Anyway, a few of us enjoy this issue so much that before we graduated, we went and made copies of it so we could look at it years later. And for the past five years, I have kept my copy, and I even brought it on this trip, because it always cheers me up when I'm having a bad day. I have come to believe that there is no problem so great that it cannot be overcome by McDonald's French fries and the 1986 Sarcastic. Anyway, John and I sat down and started to talk, and he starts telling me about his roommates in Cavanaugh Hall, and how he managed their campaign for student government using only signs written in crayon. At which point I actually stopped the interview and said, "Oh my God, you were roommates with Mike and Don?!" Which was a little weird, and completely unprofessional, but once I explained to him that I had a magazine that is pretty much dedicated to his old roommates in the trunk of my car, he totally understood. And it was a funny sort of interview, because I actually was able to remind him specifically about things in his own past that he had forgotten.

Unfortunately, immediately after that interview, the cold that had been threatening to happen all week hit hard. I was spending the weekend at the home of Greg and Susan, who were out of town all weekend, and the only one home was their youngest son Zack, who is staying at home while finishing up college. I had gone to meet them and pick up the key the day before, which was a little weird even for this trip. So after my interview with John, I drove to their house, lugged in my gear, put on my pjs and took a nice 3-hour nap. Then I woke up, picked at my dinner, and slept for another 12 hours. That's when I know I'm not feeling good. But the good news was that I had my own space to rest and recover, and Zack was a very gracious host, checking on me and making me special tea for my throat. Since I couldn't have my mom, it was nice to have a brother stand-in for the weekend. On Monday morning, I was feeling better, so I packed up and headed down to Houston as planned.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch...

Sorry it's been awhile...Ok, so when we last left off, Austin's Christmas spirit was underwhelming, but I had a great time. So I was kind of sorry to leave for Dallas, but after a few solid days off, I was antsy to do some more interviews. As I write this, I've done nearly 95 interviews, and I'm still nervous about my first interview after a "long" (more than one day) absence. Ridiculous, I know, but there it is.

I had only one interview on the day I got to Dallas, and that was with Frank Finn, class of '49, with whom I had one of the most hilarious phone exchanges ever:

Me: Hi, may I speak with Frank please?
Frank Finn: No, but you are speaking to Mr. Finn.
Me: Oh...um, hi, this is Katie, I was calling because you had contacted me about being interviewed for the Notre Dame Oral History Project...
FF: Oh, sorry about that, I thought you were some young lawyer. How the heck are you, Katie?

Needless to say, I couldn't wait to meet this guy, and he did not disappoint. He invited me to come with him to the ND Dallas Club's Annual Presidents Luncheon, which is where the current president ushers in the new president in the presence of all the past presidents of the club, and they vote on who will receive the club's big award (I abstained) and give an update on the club's scholarships, service work, and other activities, complete with spreadsheets, projections for next year's market, etc. Basically, it was me and about 30 older gentlemen, plus a couple of younger women, having a very tasty lunch at the top of one of Dallas's tallest skyscrapers and talking Notre Dame.

Sometimes people ask me if I miss spending time with people my own age on this trip. And yes, sometimes I do miss my peers. But I also feel very comfortable kicking it with the older crowd, because as anyone who knows me knows, I practically am a little old man: I get up early, I like to take naps, and I read the obits and do crosswords for fun. And on this particular afternoon, I further cemented my oldmanness after the lunch, when Frank and I wandered around for a good 45 minutes looking for our car. We'd been having a lively conversation (about football—what else?) on the way into the building, and neither of us could remember where we'd parked his car. Turns out there are two parking garages attached to this particular building, and we were in the wrong one. My only concern was for Frank, since he's still recovering from his hip-replacement surgery, but he assured me that his doctor had told him to walk for an hour a day, so this was his PT. Fortunately, Frank and I really hit it off, so it was actually fun to be able to hang out a little longer. I could go on and on about Frank, but I will make you wait to hear his interview.

After our interview, I drove out to my new home for the next 3 days: Twin Oaks Ranch, a real, working Texas cattle ranch north of the city. Tom Wageman, who was my original connection to the class of '56, had invited me to come stay up there. Tom and his wife Letty own the ranch, his son Pete runs it, and their daughter Meghan is a professional chef who worked in some of the best restaurants in SF and Chicago before she started her family. Now she and her husband live with their kids on the ranch, and she is the cook. And she's really good. So I got to stay in my own little cottage for 3 days, with a professional chef and Tom and Letty's good company. Not a bad deal.

The ranch was about an hour from Dallas, and about 10 miles from the nearest town, which was tiny. After being in the city a lot lately, it was refreshing to be a bit isolated. There was virtually no light pollution, so the nights were really dark and you could see so many stars. It reminded me of that moment in Pee Wee's Big Adventure (as you will remember, that's the one where Pee Wee goes to San Antonio to find his bike, which he thinks is in the basement of the Alamo), and he calls one of his friends, and she doesn't believe him that he's in Texas, so he holds up the phone and sings, "The stars at night/Are big and bright," and everyone walking by stops what they're doing and claps together and sings "Deep in the heart of Texas." I'm not doing the scene justice, so I'm sorry if you haven't seen the movie...well, I'm sorry if you haven't seen the movie anyway, because it's awesome, but my point is, that's what I thought of as I gazed up at the stars in the middle of this ranch. Yes, I realize how ridiculous that is, and I promise I laughed out loud at myself. Update: watch the scene on YouTube. Thanks, Kristen!

The only downside of life out at the ranch was the long commute into the city. I was very busy in Dallas with 3 interviews pretty much every day, so I was pretty exhausted by the time I had to leave. I was sad not to have more time at there, but at least it was cool while it lasted.

Awwwstin

After a harrowing drive through western Texas, where they apparently don't expect many visitors, given that there are literally 5 gas stations between the New Mexico border and Fredericksburg, I finally made it to Austin, home of my brother Michael. When I called Mike on my way into town, he suggested I go straight over to his girlfriend Jacqueline's place, because guess what she just got a new puppy named Lucy. As if I need another reason to speed.

Mike mentioned Lucy was really cute, but he neglected to tell me that she is actually the most adorable puppy ever to walk this earth. And that's not an exaggeration, I promise. She's a West Highland terrier, white with pointed ears and a wise face, "all whiskers and eyebrows," to use PG Wodehouse's apt description of a terrier. Jacqueline and I took her all over town, and we couldn't go anywhere without causing a scene. Lucy is a very bold little dog, and she is not afraid of people or other dogs, even Atlas, the neighbor's Bouvier who outweighs her by about 200 lbs. The three of us debated whether she needed a tougher name—"Killer" was tossed around more than once—but as it turns out, that name came along by itself. Being a puppy, she's still got a bit of training to do, and once after witnessing an accident, I half-groaned, half-yelled, "Oh, Lucifer!" So now her name is Lucy, short for Lucifer.

I guess I should stop talking about Lucy and say something about spending time with my brother...Michael and I got along quite well, and I don't mean to brag, but it turns out we're kind of the dynamic duo when it comes to taking care of a house. I like to clean, and Mike likes to cook, so I cleaned his apartment top to bottom and bought him a vacuum (I won't say how long he'd been there without vacuuming...) while he made gourmet meals for me and Jacqueline. (Of course, separately, we're kind of pathetic and helpless. Sorry, Mom.) It was actually very relaxing and satisfying to clean, since I haven't had to do that at all in the last couple months, and cleaning Mike's apartment was my favorite kind of cleaning—the kind where you can see the results :)

I was busy with interviews during the week, which went very well, and then my friend Carolyn flew into town to hang out for the weekend. Between Carolyn, Jacqueline, and my interviewees, I got to see a lot of Austin and go to some great restaurants while Mike had to work.

Austin of course is known for its music scene and quaint downtown, and both of those delivered, but what they don't tell you about is the traffic. Apparently, Austin has just about doubled in population in the last 10 years, and its roads are a little behind. In addition, the collective commitment of the people of Austin to going under the speed limit is unlike anything I'd ever seen. Carolyn can be my witness: Even when there were only a few cars on the road, everyone was going 55 in a 60 mph zone. If harnessed for the good, such dedication and teamwork could end poverty worldwide. Unfortunately, in this case, it meant that a 15-minute drive on a Saturday afternoon to find a hiking trail turned into a frustrating mini-road trip, one for which neither of us was really prepared. I guess a lot of people were out having a nice little Saturday at the Home Depot. Somehow we ended up finding the beginning of a trail behind a Toys 'R' Us (anyone know how to make a backwards R?), which turned out to be quite muddy and enjoyable. And then we got back in the car and drove another hour back to Mike's.

On Saturday night, we went downtown to a little jazz club my brother loves (with good reason—great music, ideal atmosphere), and we were surprised at how many families were out on a Saturday night. Turns out it was opening night of the Nutcracker and the lighting of the tree at the State House. The next day, Carolyn and I decided to explore downtown a little more, and we took our own little tour of the State House, where we were surprised to find what I would have to say is the most pathetic Christmas tree I've ever seen at a public building. This was a tree of Charlie Brown proportions, without any of the cuteness or charm. Surely, we thought, this could not be the tree everyone came out to see, but it was. How sad for the children of Texas. The upside is that the State House itself is beautiful, and anyone who goes to Austin should check it out, if only to see the paintings of the grandchildren of the Texas Congressmen, who serve as the government's "mascots."

On the road again

After a restful Thanksgiving and "Black Friday" (someone needs to explain that one to me) at the Grand Canyon, I got back in the car and drove to Austin. It's a two-day drive, and I mapped it out beforehand--something I almost never do now because of Sibyl--so that I'd go through Albuquerque and Roswell and end up in Carlsbad, NM. Turns out Sibyl has a very jealous personality. When I went my way instead of hers, she completely flipped out. We got into a huge fight....I told her to recalculate, she insisted with all the urgency her monotone can muster that when possible, I should to make a U-turn. It escalated from there, and I think we both said a few things we didn't mean. Things are ok now. I don't know if they'll ever be the same, but I like to think that fight brought us closer together.

Anyway, on Saturday, I drove through New Mexico listening to the Notre Dame-Stanford game on AM radio when possible, and trying to find the Notre Dame-Stanford game on the radio when I couldn't hear it. The result was a rather eerie drive, with these weird AM reception noises coming out of my radio as I drove through a totally flat, empty landscape. The reception seemed completely arbitrary, and often I'd hear the first half of a sentence, and then the second half was just static. Hence when I got to the hotel that night, I thought the amazing lateral passing play had resulted in a touchdown, blissfully unaware of the ensuing controversial penalty. Bummer. But we won, and let's face it, ND needed that win over Stanford this season.

In any case, the landscape was beautiful, ranging from the rockfaces of the Painted Desert area to a completely flat farm/desert terrain covered in a green brush. Well, I don't actually know if it was desert or what was really going on under that brush because from Albuquerque on, everything was covered in about 3 inches of snow, which is normal in the city and surrounding area due to the altitude, but definitely atypical in southern New Mexico. I stayed over at a hotel in Carlsbad, and the next morning, my car was covered in another 2 inches of what would be known in the Midwest as really good packing snow. Fortunately, I've got the world's greatest snow brush and the mini-shovel I "borrowed" from my Uncle Russ last year, so cleaning off the car was no sweat. I noticed a few cowboys brushing off their pick-up trucks with their bare hands giving me the jealous eye, but no self-respecting cowboy asks a little lady for help getting the snow off his truck in a Holiday Inn Express parking lot. So I just got in my car and headed off into the sunrise.