Ribs For Dinner

Ribs for Dinner  

Case makes the best ribs.

We just sat down to eat
at our stationhouse,
67^th and Jeffrey-
when we got a still call, 2-11.
Three story tenement on Englewood,
probably a bed smoker.
So it’s gear ourselves up and ride the pumper engine down,
hose up to a hydrant, and lil Joey got three lines going out on full
with aspirated stream nozzles to drench and quench.
Fire broke on the 3^rd floor of the 16 unit frame,
14 units occupied; 13 out, accounted for and safe.
Chief wants a crew to go in for a looksee at 2^nd floor rear to
scope anyone trapped in that last apartment.
So Max, Jim Johnny and I suited up heavy duty, put on smoke masks
and went in.
Even without the fire heat it’s 92 outside
and with those suits felt like over 120
We found the unit and it’s empty so we tracked back out
until a portion of the roof by the stairway collapsed between
Jim and Johnny, separating Max and Jim from us and blocking their exitway
We’re out.  Big-time worry about the guys inside.
We did hear the last tenants have been located. They made it out O.K.
Now it’s just our own and it seems forever with no news.
We were still working the pumper hoses when we hear on the talkie,
Max and Jim got out the rear.
Wow; relief . . . until we also heard a
sniper, probably a neighborhood banger,
shot Jimmy .
Caught him in the spine.
The second paramedic squad reported  he’s outbound to Holy Cross.
That’s pretty much the fire story.
It took 4 more hours in that heat to get it put out
and social services was there helping find
shelter for the residents.
Back at the stationhouse we got word Jimmy is critical but O.K.
He will walk but not be back for a long time.
Case reheated the ribs for our wee hour’s dinner.
They didn’t taste as good as they usually do.  

                                             -Jerry Wendt 2016

Christmas Skates

Christmas Skates

I wanted skates for Christmas.                                  

Figure skates.
He wouldn’t hear of it.
I got hockey skates.
I loved skating,
the warming shed,
and the laughter-
even the sounds of the ice.
So I went.
But still today
watching figure skating on television,
I always remember
how I hated those damn black and brown hockey skates.

-Jerry Wendt 2009

Nine Eleven

Acrid smoke fills my lungs;                                   

it tastes of kerosene.

My computer has no power

and the phones are without signal or jammed.

Lord, lead me home.

I consider my options,

I think of family to prevent panic.

Up is fire and darkness,

down is 55 levels; no stairs or elevators.

Lord, lead me home

All around I feel the heat consume.

Through the shattered window

I can lean out to see confusion below;

Firemen coming,  people fleeing.

Lord, lead me home

I think of dying burned alive

and futility of any rescue.

My  choices have dwindled,

my destiny confronts.

Lord, lead me home

I Remember

I Remember

- photo by James Gavin on Fire Island,  June 2016

Following high school graduation,

my  classmate Bob Behling

took his movie star looks

to a modeling job in Greece

where a swarthy pickup from an Athens gay bar

mugged and knifed him to death.

I remember.

From an open shower in our basement apartment

naked  roommate Joe baited me

until I admitted that, yes, I “liked it.”

He launched into a rage

deriding and beating me with his fists.

He was suspended and I left school forever.

I remember.

Left as a living scarecrow

tied to a fence in Laramie Wyoming

Matthew Shepard died at the

hands of torture and beating

by two gay pretenders whose hatred

turned robbery into murdering rage

I remember

So many memorials

left us to deal with an ignorance

telling us it was all divine justice,

this horrid ugly deathly AIDS left

kindred survivors sad , alone, and shamed

as community turned its back and shunned us.

I remember

My dear friend Frank DiCecco was a college professor

who built a harpsichord, grew prize orchids

and who , in a sterile call from a Chicago precinct Captain,

I learned was bludgeoned to death with a ball peen hammer

by a tenant who simply  did not like

his “Alternative Lifestyle.”

I remember.

Now I have 49 more hapless fallen

added to my list of memories,

soullessly murdered in Orlando

losing pulse to a psychopath

who could not deal with

his own sexuality.

You can bury all the bodies,

but not the memory .

-Jerry Wendt 2016

Those Ropes

Going to young friend Jair’s graduation being held tonight in the Fieldhouse of my Alma Mater, Crystal Lake Central High School, reminds me of the last time I was in that facility 54 years ago. As senior men, we were told we had to pass a physical proficiency test in order to graduate.  Back then we took any word from faculty as truth, so there I stood in that fieldhouse, a trembling shell.  Physical anything was not a skill. It was avoidance therapy for me.  Thin as I was, I had no core strength.

First up was a run twice around the fieldhouse.  It was supposed to be timed, but I took so much time they just marked me “passed.”  Then I got yelled at for trying to maximize some rest time at the water fountain.  Darn.

OK then, next was pushups: Twenty , no rest . My pal Powers McGuire had pissed me off using the excuse he had a bad heart.  The teacher- I still remember his name, Roy Nystrom- told him to do them anyway. “Muley,” Powers’ nickname, did two and collapsed in a fake heart attack.  He got passed  but now I had no excuse as he had already taken my planned one.  I did my twenty and it was more than once I got yelled at again for resting my stomach on the floor. But I did do them. (sort of- the floor under my stomach was polished very clean) Finally. Passed.

Now, the dreaded ropes.  They hung ominous and large from the ceiling.  I  really  had nothing against the ropes themselves as they provided me great pleasure watching the gymnast muscles flex as they pulled themselves up as we gym wimps played volleyball. But now it was my turn to climb. Oh Geez. I grasped the rope.  I pulled, wishing the rope would detach from its ceiling mooring.  Nothing,  the rope stayed and so did my feet- on the ground.  Nystrom bellowed “Pull, Wendt, Pull: get yourself up there. Wrap your legs around the rope and anchor your ankles. Use them to push.”  Hah. I wrapped my legs around, the rope swayed and down I fell on my bum.  “ Get back up there, Wendt, I want to see some effort,” the coach yelled.

I sweated. That was showing effort, right?  Evidently, not enough.  I knew it wasn’t going to happen so I just stood there holding that rope, wishing maybe there would be a fire, a tornado; something .  I was not going to cry, dammit.

Nystrom yelled at me, “ If you don’t climb, you will NOT graduate,”   Yikes, that motivated me to speak in terror, “ You mean I’ll have to try to do this again next year? ”

Unknowlingly, it was the perfect thing to say.  The light went on in  Nystrom’s brain ; wheels furiously turned.  “Repeat? Him- in my class, again?”

“Wendt, you pass, now get out of here.. . Next !”

There must be a Jesus I thought as I exited that facility, not even stopping at the water fountain.  In June, at graduation, I could not stop glimpsing across the court to the conditioning area and those ropes.  I wonder if they still hang there. I’ll be looking yet again tonight.

Mom Was There

This kid loved to run,

but gravel and asphalt were not kind,

and I went down often.

Bloodied knees, scuffed chin, and injured hands

were left to Band-aids to cover,

while  for my spirit

Mom was there.

Dressed in adult armor,

my tuxedo jacket as white as my face,

I all but crushed the corsage box in anxiety,

preparing to meet her parents.

Out with our car and the girl together

for an eternity of trying to say the right thing.

I knew however prom would go,

coming home, all ears to my adventure,

Mom was there.

That first day of school,

oh, not that earlier one where

memory had graciously slipped away,

but this was college, away from home alone.

More than just a school transition,

this was a “no going back” dive

into life in a big new pond,

a frightening ‘gigantor’ where my only reassurance was

Mom was there

Mid thirties arrived

with conviction and shaky resolve

that my most-loved needed telling

there would never be grandchildren.

I sat her down in front of me

and, with core deep fear and sweating hands, my words spilled out

“I am gay.”

With  unwavering acceptance and love,

Mom was there

I hovered bedside

at the nursing home,

she speechless due to stroke,

her hand relaxed and released mine,

and, just like that

Mom wasn’t there.

Mom

Jerry's Mango Cheesecake

Jerry’s Mango Cheesecake Recipe

Posted per request for Caribbean recipes. Prep time includes standing time and cooling time (5 hours).Recipe source: Turtle Bay Cookbook with modifications by Jerry

6¾ hours | 5½ hours prep

1 10 inch cake
· 1  cup chocolate wafers; crumbled crumbs
· 1/2 cup chopped unsalted macadamia nuts
· 1/4 cup brown sugar
· 3 tablespoons butter
· 2 (8 ounce) packages cream cheese, room temperature
· 1 cup sugar
· 1 1/2 cups sour cream
· 4 eggs
· 1 1/2 cups mango puree (made from ripe mangoes or use thawed frozen mangoes)
- 1/4 cup Rumona liquor or Jumbie Rum Liquor
· 1/2 teaspoon vanilla
· 1 teaspoonlemon juice
· 1 1/2 cups sour cream
· 1/2 cup sugar
· 2 tablespoons apricot jam
· 2 tablespoons corn syrup
· 1 teaspoon lime juice
· 1 teaspoon cider vinegar

PREP
1. Preheat oven to 300°F.
2. Butter a 10-inch springform pan and set aside.
3. Combine first 3 ingredients (graham cracker crumbs- sugar) in a small bowl.
4. Stir in melted butter.
5. Press mixture into prepared pan.
    bake the crust in the springform pan at 300 degrees for 8 minutes
    let cool before adding cake batter.  The nuts can burn quickly so watch this bake carefully.
6. Combine cream cheese and sugar in a food processor or blender; process until combined.
7. Add sour cream, eggs, mango puree, liquor (Rumona or Jumbie), vanilla and lemon juice; process using on/off turns until combined.
8. Pour mixture into prepared crust.
9. Bake for 1 hour or until set. ( I added 13 minutes to bake)
10. Let cheesecake cool for 1 1/2  hours.
11. While cheesecake is cooling prepare topping by combining sour cream and sugar in a food processor until combined.
12. Preheat oven to 350°F.
13. After cheesecake is at room temperature (1 1/2 hours cooling at room temperature), top cheesecake with topping.
14. Bake 8 minutes.
15. Remove from oven.
16. Chill for at least 4 hours.

Serving Sauce
2 mangos pureed with 1/4 cup Rumona or Jumbie
drizzle sauce on plate, serve with cake slice over