Bilingual


Chicago, Illinois, USA

I was born in Perth Amboy, New Jersey, but my first language is Spanish. We moved to the Pilsen neighborhood in Chicago when I was about two years old. We only spoke Spanish at home. All our visitors spoke Spanish. As I recall, even my childhood playmates spoke Spanish. When we went to mass at our neighborhood church, the priest said mass in Spanish. I believe everyone around me always spoke Spanish until I started school. When I watched television, it was in English. Occasionally, I would go shopping with my parents where I heard languages other than Spanish. However, the only language I understood was Spanish.

Since I grew up in the neighborhood called the Back of the Yards, I heard many different foreign languages along with English. When I played outside with the other children, I never understood what they said if they spoke a language other than Spanish. Although I often heard English, I did not learn to speak any English until I entered Kindergarten. It was the sudden immersion method since I had never spoken more than a few words of English at a time. Suddenly, for hours at a time, I only heard English, and the teacher expected me to respond in English. We learned nursery rhymes and songs that used archaic English words. When I attempted to use some of the new English words that I learned from the nursery rhymes or songs outside of school, other children would laugh at me. For example, I was ridiculed when I called a female classmate a lassie. I learned “lassie” from the song, “Have you ever seen a lassie go this way and that way?”

I attended a Lithuanian Catholic grade school called Holy Cross Grade School in the Back of the Yards neighborhood. All of the priests and most of the nuns spoke Lithuanian and English. We were always conscious of the fact that our neighborhood was the setting for the Lithuanian family in the novel The Jungle by Upton Sinclair. During school hours, the nuns stressed the importance of learning English and we were not allowed to speak our native tongue whether it was Spanish, Polish, or Lithuanian. We had to master English if we were to function in a Catholic and American society.

What helped me learn English was the constant repetition of songs and prayers. Rote memorization was the norm. I improved my English vocabulary by writing down important words several times. This constant repetition helped me learn English. Every morning we went to church to attend mass in Latin before school. We prayed a “Hail Mary” before class in the morning. In the afternoon, we prayed the “Our Father” and the recited the “Pledge of Allegiance” before class. I often did not understand the lessons taught at school. When the teachers instructed the students to complete a task, I was usually the last one to comply because I didn’t understand the command in English and would belatedly obey it by watching what the other students did. Sometimes, my classmates made fun of me because I was slow to follow the instructions. Occasionally, the teacher would correct my English and students would make fun of me after class.

At home, my parents insisted that I speak English so that they could also learn English. The more English I spoke, the more Spanish I forgot. In the end, my parents realized how difficult it was to learn English, so they never really learned it well enough to become fluent. We ended up speaking these bilingual conversations where I spoke English to my parents and they spoke Spanish to me. Of course, certain terms were not translated from their original language. We often spoke in a mixture of English and Spanish: Spanglish. Once I knew how to speak English well enough to get by, I became the official family translator at age eight; I had to translate whenever we went out, and we needed directions or my parents had to conduct some sort of business. I was always self-conscious about the way in which I spoke English because of my Spanish accent.

When I was in the fourth grade, I felt embarrassed by the way I spoke English. I wanted to improve my fluency, so I read books to feel more comfortable with English. When I got my first library card, I spent a lot of time at the library reading books. I also borrowed a lot of books to read at home. I really loved the joke books because I learned the multiple meanings of many words. For example, “What did the ocean say to the beach? Nothing, it just waved.” These jokes and riddles helped realize that words had multiple meanings. This helped me to increase my English vocabulary while I also learned to enjoy the humor of the English language.

Unfortunately, I still had trouble comprehending the classroom lessons in the fourth grade. When we went to Mexico for two months during that school year, I had lost the little English fluency I had. In Mexico, I realized that I did not speak Spanish as effortlessly as my relatives in Mexico. When I played with my cousins, they made fun of my speaking that was part English, part Spanish. When I returned to Chicago, I realized that my classmates still made fun of my English. I did not speak either language very well. I also learned that I would fail the fourth grade because I missed two months of school due to our extended Mexican vacation. Since the teacher said that I failed in part because of my problems with English, I have always felt self-conscious about my English.

As I grew older, I wanted to be bilingual in English and Spanish and speak both languages fluently, like a native speaker. I often tried to read, write, and speak English and Spanish whenever possible. When I was in the Marine Corps, I studied English grammar books extensively. I read in Spanish whenever I came across something written in Spanish. However, it was not until I attended the University of Illinois Chicago that I felt that I really learned English and Spanish. To this day, I feel that I speak English with a Spanish accent and Spanish with an English accent.

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DDR

Ted Haydon


Ted Haydon
Ted M. Haydon, 1912 – 1985

On April 16, 1985, Ted Haydon suffered a brain hemorrhage after a track practice and died on May 3 in Billings Hospital at the age of 73.

With the death of Ted Haydon, pioneer in track and field and renown coach, we lose a great man. We’ll miss many things, but one in particular. With his unflappable manner and his quips, he helped athletes realize that sport was not the most important thing in life.


Many of his athletes preferred to be insulted by Ted rather than complimented by any other coach. Practices featured banter such as:

“Ted, could you recommend a pair of fast shoes?”

“Don’t worry, they’ll all keep up with you.”

“Ted, how can I improve my times?”

“Run shorter races.”

“Ted, should I do long, slow distance running?”

“Yes, but not during the race.”


Ted was born Edward Morgan Haydon on March 29, 1912, in Saskatoon, Saskatchewan, Canada. His father left Canada to study religion at the University of Chicago in 1914 and later became Professor of Comparative Religions there. As a student at the University of Chicago, Ted played football on the junior varsity squad for two years and then left the sport to concentrate on track and field. He specialized in the hammer throw and hurdles, and he was team captain his senior year. Ted graduated in 1933 with a bachelor’s degree in sociology and won an honors scholarship to attend graduate school at Chicago to study sociology. He left school after one year in order to get married and work a full-time job.

For the next sixteen years, he worked out of storefronts as a social worker for juvenile delinquents and helped organize self-help programs that later became models for some of the social activism of the 1960’s.

By 1967, Ted was smoking so many cigarettes the room would seem to spin around for him, so he went to see his doctor who told him he needed exercise. After a fourteen-year hiatus from track and field, he returned to the university fieldhouse to work out in the afternoons.

Soon track coach Ned Merriam asked him to help out on a voluntary basis. When Ned retired in 1950, the university asked Ted to take the job. During this era, the University of Chicago Track Club was formed.

Ted was the first to compete as a member of the University of Chicago “club” in AAU meets. “In social work, I ran around in circles,” Ted said. “Now I do the same thing on the track and get points for it.”

Eventually, the better runners in the area gravitated to the club. Lawton Lamb, who had graduated from the University of Illinois in 1952 and had run on the two-mile relay team that had set an American record at the Drake Relays, suggested to Ted that he be allowed to run for the University of Chicago even though he never attended school there. “I work out on your track every day,” Lawton said. “Why shouldn’t I represent you?” Ted agreed and handed him a Chicago singlet.

In those days out-of-college athletes could only continue their competing in exclusive, wealthy downtown athletic clubs which discriminated against Jews and Blacks. The Chicago club was open to everyone. “We do not discriminate on the basis of race, creed, or talent,” Ted said.

Although he dedicated most of his time to his coaching, Ted received a master’s degree in sociology from the University of Chicago in 1954.

When runner Hal Higdon returned to Chicago in the late fifties after serving in the Army, he felt there weren’t enough meets. “I nagged Ted to have more meets,” Hal said. “Ted was cooperative with us in our madness. We always looked up to the Boston Marathon, so we were looking for road races near home. That’s when we started the road races in Jackson Park.”

Ted showed up to time them, but only because someone wanted to race. “The road races got going without Ted,” Hal said, “but he would throw holy water on them. Ted was an athlete’s coach.”

When Frank Loomos tied the indoor world record for the sixty-yard low hurdles, Ted said, “The record is the result of an explosive start, fantastic acceleration, impeccable form over the hurdles, a driving finish, and a set of timers with poor reflexes. Let us know anytime you want another world record, Frank, and we’ll get the right timers out.”

Dick Gregory, who held the half-mile record at Southern Illinois University, asked Ted if he could perform stand-up comedy at the annual track club dinner in 1959. Ted said, “Why not?”

Dick bombed that year and the following year, but in 1961, he made everyone laugh very hard. A few weeks later, he performed at the Playboy Club and was soon a national success. Ted was always proud of the fact that Dick had gotten his start at the club dinner.

As coach to the U.S. Olympic track team at the 1968 Olympic Games Mexico City, Ted always made sure the athletes made their workouts. He was so busy coaching, his wife Goldie never saw him. But even at the Olympics, Ted never let his athletes take track and field too seriously. Before the final heat of the Mexico City 1500, a very nervous Jim Ryan asked Ted to say a prayer for him. Several minutes later Ted told Jim, “I decided not to say a prayer for you. I’ll save it for something that’s really important.”

Although Ted would relieve the pressure his athletes felt, he also encouraged them by supporting their efforts. When runner Ken Young (founder of the National Running Data Center along with his wife Jennifer) was browsing through the record books and discovered that the indoor twenty-five-mile world record was only 2:45, he asked Ted if he could help him stage an indoor marathon on the old clay track. Ted agreed.

“I knew I could break that record,” Ken said, “because I could run 2:45 for a marathon. That was 209 laps around a 220-clay track. We had seventeen runners. By the time we finished, the inside lane was smooth and shiny. It took about a week before it was powdery again. I finally brought the record down to 2:35:52.”

“With Ted everyone got a chance to run,” Ken said. “He gave as much attention to the slower runners as the record holders. He once told me he got more pleasure watching seven- or eight-minute milers improve than seeing people set records.”

“Ted’s strong point was his psychological treatment of runners,” Ken said. “He always knew the right thing to say to get you to perform. I’ve never seen anyone else who could do that. Most runners would work the meets, but we’d go to Ted’s house to eat before the meet. One time I really pigged out. Of course, I didn’t race too well. Ted came up to me and said, “The hungry wolf leads the pack.”

Ted could never understand how a coach could drive his athletes so hard. At one meet, another coach had been yelling at his runners on the track; this coach turned to Ted and said, “My runners are in good position.” Ted said, “Yes, they’re still upright.”

At another meet, one of the sprint races ended in a virtual dead heat. After a confused discussion, the officials picked a sprinter who was wearing bright orange as the winner. They sensed this would start a big argument with the coaches and runners, so they consulted Ted. Ted took the results card and wrote, “1, 2, 3, 4, 5…” right down the list of names. No one ever said anything else about the race.

When Wendy Miller wanted to start masters track competition in the Midwest, he went to Ted. “Ted was having his own track meets, so I was afraid he would think we would take away competition,” Wendy said. “But he gave us lists of runners and helped me out of those problems I had with the AAU. He has a real genius to exist with different factions. Ted was a master at being able to walk away with nobody mad at him.”

“He helped us at our very first meet. And he drove out to our last meet this year at Sterling on March 31st to watch some of his runners. We were short on volunteers, so I said, ‘Ted, we need another timer.’ He unzipped his jacket to show he had two stopwatches around his neck. He grinned and said, “You never know when you may have to time.”


Members of the University of Chicago Track Club have competed in every Olympics since 1956. Ted was inducted into the National Track and Field Hall of Fame in 1975. In 1982, the city of Chicago proclaimed his 70th birthday “Ted Haydon Day”.

“I have nothing but admiration for the man,” said Jack Bolton, coach for the Marquette Park Track Club and a UCTC member.

“You can trace most things back to Ted Haydon. We were pretty close. From the time I turned sixty-five, he always sent me a complimentary indoor pass. As busy as he was, he could still find time for a friend. To me, he was the greatest. He had a great sense of humor. That’s what endeared him to runners. To sum it up, he was a great man!”

This story was originally published in the June 1985 issue of the Illinois Runner.

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DDR

My dinner with Ted Haydon


Ted Haydon
Ted M. Haydon, 1912 – 1985

Ted Haydon has coached countless track and field athletes at the University of Chicago since 1950, including many Olympic athletes, average, and not-so-average runners. Ted was elected to the Track and Field Hall of Fame for his promotion of track and field through an open club and open meets, thanks partially to Hal Higdon’s urging as a graduate student.

I felt Ted was truly concerned about me, a runner whom he hardly knew except by sight. I later learned that he took personal interest in everyone who ran for him. He coached me to new PR’s of various sorts. My favorite was my stand-up comedy performance at the annual University of Chicago Track Club Dinner in 1984, with George Young as the guest speaker.

Once on the way home from a track meet, a two-and-a-half-hour drive, someone in the van began telling jokes; Ted told a few himself. Then I told some. Everyone was surprised that the quiet guy around the track knew so many jokes. When they questioned me, I had to admit that I had read numerous joke books since I was in grade school. I also told them how I had performed stand-up comedy and would soon be appearing in a comedy revue.

At the next workout, I asked Ted what I should do.

“How about some stand-up comedy at the track club dinner this year?” he asked.

I wanted to turn him down, but a few months earlier I decided to accept every opportunity to perform standup comedy.

“How about if I do five to ten minutes of comedy?” I asked.

“But you have to tell jokes about track and field,” Ted said.

“Okay,” I said, trying to sound too enthusiastic about the whole thing in spite of not having a single track and field joke in my repertoire. “I’ll write something for the dinner.”

“Where have you performed before?” he asked.

“The Comedy Cottage, Comedy Womb, and Who’s on First.”

“I figure if I gave Dick Gregory a start,” he said, “I could help you out a little.”

I began telling members of the track club I would be performing for the dinner. Since it was only two weeks away, I felt nervous because I had no track and field jokes. I recruited Mark Wagner, the club clown who gave a humorous slide show at his house party, and his sidekick Chris Cole. Maybe they would help me write some running jokes. I thought of a few ideas I could develop, but somehow, they did not make me feel comfortable. I needed better material.

I told Pat Palmer, one of the track club members, that I would be performing at the track club dinner. He immediately began talking about Dick Gregory’s comedy debut at the dinner. “I was a freshman,” Pat said, “when I met him at the dinner in January of 1960. He was really funny. I had never heard of him before, but after that dinner he became famous.”

That was when I began to feel enormous pressure. When I performed in night clubs, I didn’t care if I bombed because I would never see the audience again anyway, but here I knew about half the audience. I never performed well before people who knew me. Was I ever nervous!

The reason I told everyone I would perform for the dinner was to put pressure on myself in order to accomplish what I had set out to do. Once enough people knew about my plans, I had to perform. Many club members were discovering for the first time my background in comedy. In real life, I don’t come across as a funny person. So, people are surprised when they learn that I’m a standup comedian.

Now I had one minor problem. I didn’t have any running jokes. Okay. One major problem. Comedians without jokes are not funny. I wouldn’t be the exception. Mentally, I began writing a running monologue for the track club dinner. When I told Mark Wagner and Chris Cole the next day, they were willing to help me write some jokes. I told them some ideas I had for jokes. Not only did they like them, but they guessed the punchline before I even said it. To jokes I had written! This would have upset other comedians, but they would be the perfect collaborators since we thought similarly. We agreed to meet the next Wednesday during a track meet. I worried that I did not see them at the workouts the next Monday or Tuesday. I wrote jokes in case I did not see them again before the dinner, which was only a week away now.

I had set a schedule for myself: the first week would be dedicated to writing material and the second week to rehearsing. So when I didn’t see my collaborators at the track, I thought I would get behind schedule.

In the meantime, I saw Ted every day. Whenever I asked him to tell me my workout, he would ask me how my comedy routine was coming along. I always told him I would be ready by the night of the dinner. I wondered if he sensed my insecurities. Ted had always seemed to know when I doubted myself. Once, he told me to run two quarters at my 800 pace, which I would race two days later. I asked how fast I should run.

“Run them under sixty seconds,” Ted said.

My PR for the 400 was sixty-one, so I didn’t think I could do his workout. He did not pressure me to try, although he did encourage me to do them. I wouldn’t have tried without his urging. I ran the first one in 58.2 and the second in 60.0. We were both pleased by the workout. But I was more surprised than pleased!

Prior to the track club dinner, Ted never stopped telling jokes or playfully insulting his runners, a favorite habit of his. I always enjoyed the good laughs Ted provided.

The Wednesday night I was meeting with my collaborators finally arrived. I was relieved to see Mark and Chris at the track meet. Since I had last talked to them, I had written five minutes of material, all of it untested on stage. There are no night clubs where comedians can try out running humor. We were to write during the meet, but we were too nervous because we were both racing. Following Ted’s workouts, I ran a PR of 2:02.8 in the 800. We both ran great races, so we thought we’d celebrate by having a beer at the Woodlawn Tap, otherwise known as Jimmy’s, the infamous bar on the corner of 1172 East 55th Street in Hyde Park.

I hardly considered the conditions conducive to creative thinking, but we began our comedy writing session there anyway. I told him what jokes I had in mind and how I would like to present them. Mark liked the section I had written about Jarmila Kratochvilova. At least we were off to a great start. After I told him the jokes about Ted Haydon, which were actually putdowns on me, we wrote jokes about various members of the track club, although there was nothing too caustic. By the end of our session, including interruptions from friends who asked us what we were doing, we had doubled my material. I really liked the jokes by Mark and Chris. Now all I had to do was polish them and rehearse them. Listening to some of my material, my friend Jim Harmon reworded some jokes which were not sharp enough. I trusted his judgment because he had performed standup comedy for about a year.

I rehearsed the routine, but did not memorize the jokes until four days before the dinner; I was afraid I might forget my lines by the night of the dinner·. As I rehearsed, flashbacks of bombing on stage kept haunting me. Determined to succeed, I worked at my routine that had added up to ten minutes.

Two days before the dinner, Ted asked me if my comedy routine was prepared, I told him I was ready to perform. He asked me in the same tone he used to ask his runners if they were ready to race. He told me a few quick jokes that made me laugh.

I was nervous the night of the dinner. The sight of Hal Higdon at the bar made me jittery even though the story about my bombing would not appear in The Runner. As I drank a beer to relax my nerves, Ted approached me.

“Are you ready?” he asked.

“Yes,” I said. “When will I go on?”

“Right after the jugglers, Zeus Preckwinkle and Mike Nair,” he said. “I’ve billed you as Third City Comedy.”

I laughed. Third City Comedy struck me as funny. I hoped to think of a funny response when I was introduced. Mark, my collaborator, was nervous for me. He could not think of a funny response to the introduction.

I was glad Ted did not wish good luck in the traditional show biz way by saying, “Break a leg.” He might make a habit of telling me that before every race.

The jugglers were great. I was apprehensive when I heard my name. Walking to the podium, I realized this was the most prepared I had ever been for a comedy performance. There were no excuses for bombing tonight.

I felt like a fool when I ad libbed something in response to the intro and no one responded. I stuttered my opening lines. The audience, my largest ever to that point in my comedy career, stared at me expectantly. A joke in which I complimented Carl Lewis only received a chuckle. I thought I was in trouble when I stuttered into the Jarmila Kratochvilova jokes, but then I pronounced her name correctly. I was shocked! I got a few laughs as I worked my way toward the punchline. After delivering the line that should get the Big Laugh, there was a slight pause. A slight pause that cause me to panic inside. A pause only a comedian would notice. But then I got the Big Laugh. Getting the Big Laugh rattled me a little. Looking at the audience I saw everyone laughing very loudly, too. I tried to spot Hal Higdon, but I could not find him in the audience. In the meantime, everyone applauded. I had never been applauded before. “What do I do now?” I asked myself. I looked back at the audience as if I were used to getting this sort of response. I stopped stuttering from that point on.

I continued to get laughter and applause. When I reached the Ted Haydon section of jokes, I looked at him to study his reactions. I planned to move on to another topic if Ted looked offended. I assumed he would not mind.

“I remember when I first met Ted Haydon,” I said. “He asked me what high school I ran for. I was insulted because at that time I was twenty-six. Laughter. “I said, ‘I’m not in high school.’”

“So then Ted said, ‘What high school will you run for?’ Laughter and applause.

“I wanted to join the track club and Ted said, ‘Membership is a state of mind.’ Laughter. When I told him how fast I ran…” Laughter. He said, ‘In that case, membership is a state of mind. And a small contribution.” Laughter and applause.

Ted seemed pleased. These were the jokes I had written. I received a better response from Mark’s jokes about Ted. I continued until I finally ran out of material about fifteen minutes later. The laughter and applause had expanded my routine in a good way. I returned to my seat and chugged a beer quickly, feeling relieved now that the pressure was off me. The podium remained empty for about two minutes–or at least it felt that long. Finally, Ted approached the microphone and said, “Dave’s a tough act to follow!”

I could not help feeling proud of myself. After the dinner, people complimented me on my performance. Many were surprised to discover I was a comedian. Some of the older club members compared me with Dick Gregory. I was flattered to hear that some liked me better. To think I might not have performed this well had it not been for Ted’s encouragement, the same encouragement that allowed me to run a sub-five-minute mile.

I shook Ted’s hand. “Thanks for letting me perform,” I said.

“You’re very funny,” Ted said.

Ted Haydon sure knows how to make his runners perform up to their potentials on and off the track.

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DDR

Resolutions


Martin Luther’s 95 Theses

I didn’t make any resolutions this year. But my wife was kind enough to make some for me. And she posted the list on the refrigerator door. Just like Martin Luther posted his 95 Theses on the Wittenberg Cathedral door. Resolution number one? More date nights. And in parenthesis, but not to comedy clubs. Resolution Number two: Say “I love you!” more often. And in parenthesis, before you say it to our dog Earl. And Resolution Number three: Put the toilet seat down! I don’t know what the rest of the resolutions were. Because I crumpled up that list and flushed it down the toilet. After I put the toilet seat down!

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DDR

Mysterious ring


Is it a flower? Or a taco?

The other day, my wife said that we needed milk. So I volunteered to go to the Speedway Gas Station to buy milk. My wife said, “No! You need to go to Trader Joe’s. Buy organic milk, Himalayan salt, and bee pollen tablets.”

Well I made the mistake of wearing a Hawaiian shirt. When I get there, I can’t get to the dairy section right away. A woman asked me how much the cucumbers cost. She was fondling the cucumbers. I can’t help but stare at her ring. I had never seen a ring like that before. To me it looked either a flower. Or a taco. Then she noticed me staring. She said, “I see you staring at my vagina ring!” I was shocked! I looked at it more closely and it did look very realistic. Probably because she had hairy knuckles. I shouldn’t have said anything, but I blurted out, “Is that actual size?” That was the wrong thing to say!

Well, I’m no longer allowed at Trader Joe’s. I ended up bringing home milk from the Speedway Gas Station. But now I know what I’m buying my wife for her birthday! And I know her size!

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