Grace Street
()
About this ebook
Diane Jacks Saunders
Diane Jacks Saunders, a Lebanese-American, is an award-winning journalist who has worked more than three decades for community newspapers. With no formal training in journalism, she carved out a career as a writer, editor and photographer while raising three children as a single parent in Indiana. Diane believes lessons learned as a child in an ethnic family prepared her for a career as a journalist. After raising her children, Diane relocated to southeast Arizona to escape the harsh Indiana winters. As a resident of the Southwest, Diane was introduced to "cowboy poetry" and self-published a limited-edition cowboy poetry book. Diane and her husband Charles "Chuck" Saunders live in the mountains on a small ranch with horses, dogs, cats, a burro and a pot-bellied pig named Pork Chop.
Related to Grace Street
Related ebooks
Bobby: Please Come Inside Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsMama Say's It's Hogwash: A Texas Woman Comes of Age in Rosebud Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsThey Were Immigrants: The Lasting Legacy of My Syrian Grandparents Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsDear Alison, the Road Long Traveled Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsHis Grace Is Sufficient Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsReflections of My Life Growing up in Jamaica Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsMy Life's Journey Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsUn Sentenced for Life Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsThe Years That Counted Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsThe Place You Live In: A Multigenerational Immigrant Story Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsFrom My Eyes: How A Widowed, Uneducated, African-American Father Raised Eleven Children To Become Successful Adults Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsUnder the Noodle String: A Memoir Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsWandering in Strange Lands: A Daughter of the Great Migration Reclaims Her Roots Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Road Trip: A Memoir Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsA Mirror of My Life: A Memoir By Vesta L. Hale Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsMy Father's Name: A Black Virginia Family after the Civil War Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5Lunchmeat Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsStories from the Barrio and Other 'Hoods Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsThere Was Always a Cat: Memories of My Early Life—The Cats I’Ve Loved and Who Have Loved Me Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsAn Amazing Life Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsThe Cross Roads: A Love Story Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsSonny Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsHe Was Always There Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsGraceland the True Story Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsNever Give Up A Father and Son Reunion 65 Years in the Making Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsDoris: A Tale of Two Sisters Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsThe Time of My Life: What Boomers and Other Kids Should Know, by a Guy Old Enough to Be Their Dad Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsThe Choices We Make Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsTomorrow's Road Home Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsEvery Life Is a Story and This Is Mine: A Memoir and Recollections Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratings
Relationships For You
A Child Called It: One Child's Courage to Survive Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5The ADHD Effect on Marriage: Understand and Rebuild Your Relationship in Six Steps Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5All About Love: New Visions Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5The Big Book of 30-Day Challenges: 60 Habit-Forming Programs to Live an Infinitely Better Life Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5The 5 Love Languages: The Secret to Love that Lasts Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5I'm Glad My Mom Died Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Running on Empty: Overcome Your Childhood Emotional Neglect Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Dumbing Us Down - 25th Anniversary Edition: The Hidden Curriculum of Compulsory Schooling Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5The Good Girl's Guide to Great Sex: Creating a Marriage That's Both Holy and Hot Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5She Comes First: The Thinking Man's Guide to Pleasuring a Woman Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Boundaries Workbook: When to Say Yes, How to Say No to Take Control of Your Life Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Maybe You Should Talk to Someone: the heartfelt, funny memoir by a New York Times bestselling therapist Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Polysecure: Attachment, Trauma and Consensual Nonmonogamy Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5What Makes Love Last?: How to Build Trust and Avoid Betrayal Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5How to Talk So Kids Will Listen & Listen So Kids Will Talk Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Boundaries with Kids: How Healthy Choices Grow Healthy Children Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Maybe You Should Talk to Someone: A Therapist, HER Therapist, and Our Lives Revealed Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5How to Talk so Little Kids Will Listen: A Survival Guide to Life with Children Ages 2-7 Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5The Covert Passive Aggressive Narcissist: The Narcissism Series, #1 Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5Feeling Good: The New Mood Therapy Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Your Brain's Not Broken: Strategies for Navigating Your Emotions and Life with ADHD Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5Mating in Captivity: Unlocking Erotic Intelligence Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5And Every Morning the Way Home Gets Longer and Longer: A Novella Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5I Guess I Haven't Learned That Yet: Discovering New Ways of Living When the Old Ways Stop Working Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Codependence and the Power of Detachment: How to Set Boundaries and Make Your Life Your Own Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/58 Rules of Love: How to Find It, Keep It, and Let It Go Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Uniquely Human: A Different Way of Seeing Autism Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5
Reviews for Grace Street
0 ratings0 reviews
Book preview
Grace Street - Diane Jacks Saunders
© 2011 Diane Jacks Saunders. All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.
First published by AuthorHouse 1/17/2011
ISBN: 978-1-4520-9774-9 (sc)
ISBN: 978-1-4520-9775-6 (e)
Library of Congress Control Number: 2010918649
Printed in the United States of America
This book is printed on acid-free paper.
Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any Web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.
This book is dedicated to the memory of my brother, Darrell James Jacks, who grew up with me on Grace Street.
And it is for my children, Ken, Sandra and Jill,
who never had a chance to grow up on Grace Street.
Acknowledgements
A special thanks to Phil Davis for providing the cover picture and sharing many of his insights and memories. Also, thanks to Rodney Guehn for his contribution; to Mike Fleming for providing several Michigan City pictures; to Todd Haynie and Dillon McGaughey for their help in preparing the cover photo; to Aimee Staten for proofreading my copy, and to my dear friend Carol Hatchett who was always there for me.
A Street Called Grace
James and Mary had a family with hopes and dreams,
Under stormy skies and brilliant sunbeams.
Three daughters are mothers at a special place,
The big white house on a street called Grace.
Table of Contents
Introduction
Chapter One
Ya-allah! Ya-allah!
Chapter Two
Ahma! Ahma!
Chapter Three
The Little Orange Train
Chapter Four
Home on the Range and Fun at the Park
Chapter Five
Uncle Eddie
Chapter Six
The Middle East in the Midwest: Religion and Bunko
Chapter 7
Fired-up Over Politics and Other Hot Topics
Chapter Eight
School Days and Summer Daze
Chapter 9
Animals, Bikes and Liberty Rocks
Chapter 10
Tanber’s, Store, the X Club, House Calls and Tenants
Epilogue
The James NahjeebTadros Family
Introduction
Grace Street is more than a street or a location. It is place in my heart and mind, frozen in time, but burnt into my soul forever. Kids were safe to wander their neighborhoods, explore ponds and woods and ride their bikes to the library or take the city bus to the movie theater. Mothers sent their children to buy bread and milk at Tanber’s store, and Uncle Eddie owned part of the street. Adults laughed and talked about Nazita, yelled at each other in frustration, gossiped in Lebanese and cooked stuffed grape leaves for a treat.
Grace Street was in an ethnic neighborhood on the east side of Michigan City, Indiana. Adults spoke broken English and held onto many old-world beliefs. We kids were caught up between the customs of the old country and the growing Americanization of our parents and grandparents.
My guess is that most adults have their own Grace Street – a place they look back to when they’re afraid of the future; a place that is comfortable when they are uncertain; a foundation that’s always there when their world starts to unravel or crumble.
Grace Street. Who named the street? Was it named for someone? Other streets on the east side bore people names, such as Edward or Helen. Or was the name a reference to religious beliefs? The main structure on the street was the St. George Syrian Greek Orthodox Church, built in 1911 on land donated by my grandfather, James NahjeebTadros.
My grandparents certainly possessed grace, strength and other attributes just to survive the deaths of four children, the Great Depression, World War I and World War II and who knows how many other challenges and tragedies. This was after immigrating to the United States from their native Beirut, Syria, now known as Beirut, Lebanon.
My look back at Grace Street covers only a few years – from the time I was probably 3 or 4 years old until I was about 11 or 12, or from about 1950 to about 1959. This book is based on my memories and my impressions of growing up in an ethnic neighborhood in the 1950s. I didn’t know then if times were good or times were bad for the adults. For us kids, Grace Street was all we knew. It was our world, and now I realize it was a good one.
Chapter One
Ya-allah! Ya-allah!
We were blonde-haired kids living in a dark-haired neighborhood; Roman Catholics living next door to the Greek Orthodox Church on Grace Street in Michigan City, Indiana. The South Shore Railroad tracks were a half-block from our house, and the rumbling orange trains were noisy. Playing on the tracks was dangerous and potentially deadly, but the little orange train was the lifeblood of our existence.
Our mother, June Rose (Tadros) Jacks, and our grandmother spoke Lebanese, an Arabic dialect, to each other. Grandma spoke some English and mostly Lebanese to my brother Darrell and me, and Mom spoke mostly English when she talked to us. When Mom was excited about something she would speak shrilly and yell Lebanese to my dad, and he would calmly remind her that he only spoke English.
Most adults we knew spoke Lebanese, and we thought this was normal. Several Lebanese families lived on Grace Street or on nearby Holiday, Edward and Helen streets and other streets I cannot name. They had surnames like Tadros, Tanber, Muckway, Faroh, Gibron or Shikany. We didn’t know many people with typically American last names, like Johnson or Smith. Occasionally, Grandma and my mother would take me to a home on one of those streets. I can’t say I hated going, I just didn’t enjoy those visits very much. Everyone spoke Lebanese or broken English.
I remember asking kids in my kindergarten class what country their grandparents were from, and they would give me blank stares or ask, What do you mean?
I thought everyone had grandparents who came from another country. My grandparents, James and Mary (Kicanas) Tadros, were from Beirut, Syria, now known as Beirut, Lebanon. Although Lebanon was split from Syria in 1926, the Lebanese people we knew said they were Syrian. In fact, my grandfather’s immigration papers said he was from Beirut, Syria. I never knew my grandfather because he died more than a year before I was born. Based on the pictures I’ve seen, he was slender and had light brown hair and blue eyes – not a typical Arab. Grandma was more stereotypical. She had black hair and brown eyes and was short and stocky. She was 15 when her brother married her off to my grandfather in 1904. This happened after she was sent to the United States by her father to escape political strife in Syria. My grandmother and her sister were put on a ship for the United States, but Grandma’s sister left the boat in Italy and ended up living in a convent. My mother said she wasn’t a nun but lived the life of a nun.
My grandparents had eight children – four of whom lived to adulthood. My mother was the youngest. Aunt Jo (Josephine) was the oldest and between her and my mother were Aunt Marge (Marguerite) and Uncle Eddie (Edward). A son, George, died as an infant, and another son, Philip, died at age 9. A set of twins were stillborn, according to my mother.
My first memories of Grace Street are of the kitchen of our small, upstairs apartment in the house my grandfather built in the early 1900s. The cabinets were a light, celery green, the counter was black. And my dad, Vernon Jacks, who was not Lebanese, sat at the round kitchen table in the corner and made his own cigarettes. He kept his tobacco and cigarette papers in a brown, leather zippered pouch. He had a black lighter that he would take apart to clean and put in a new flint before he refilled it with lighter fluid.
Dad never called Grandma by her name nor did he call her Ma
as my mother and her sisters did. He called her Emma. This was a derivative of the Lebanese word emmet, which means mother. I think he was uncomfortable calling her Mary and couldn’t quite bring himself to call her Mom, which was reserved only for his mother. So he compromised by calling her Emma.
Grandma, on the other hand, called Dad Bernon,
not Vernon. This was a Lebanese thing because there is no letter V
in the Lebanese language.
My mother always wanted me to be a typical little girl. I think she would have been thrilled if I sat around all day and played with dolls or embroidered hankies. Instead, I was a total tomboy. I did not like to sew or embroider, and I had little interest in girlie things, although I had a couple of dolls I liked and I would occasionally play with them. Mom and Grandma wouldn’t allow me to even try playing with one of Darrell’s trucks.
I loved rough-and-tumble play and longed to play football with my brother and my cousins, Rodney and Phil. I wasn’t allowed to play football because I was a girl. I didn’t like wearing dresses or playing house, and I loved to change into jeans after wearing a dress to school all day.
My mother just didn’t get it. She was always trying to make me into an adorable girlie-girl, and all I wanted to do was play rough games and climb trees. I was fairly lonely most of the time, and it seemed that my mother and I were always butting heads.
She tried to connect with me, though, by sewing or buying mother and daughter
dresses. These outfits were nearly identical with the child’s dress made of the same fabric but of a more juvenile design. I liked dressing like my mother, but I wished my dress was exactly like hers. I never voiced my disappointment.
We had a black cat named Blackie, and I did play dress-up with him. Mom and Dad said I would drape the cat around my neck