Showing posts with label Dunkin Donuts. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Dunkin Donuts. Show all posts

Saturday, April 04, 2015

"Money Means Something" My April Column for Irish American News

                                  
 Kareem on the right inthe Virgin Mary Blue Polo is the hardest working guy I know
Naceda and Bidya on the right are the hardest working women in American!


                                                      Money Means Something
Work in the worldly life relies upon diligence. Therefore, man is required to work hard and actively, leaving behind laziness. The Quran and Sunnah direct us towards this understanding. Allah The Almighty Says (what means):
{And say, “Work, for Allah will see your deeds, and [so, will] His Messenger and the believers.”} [Quran 9:105]
                                                 
I was brought up to work hard.  My father worked three jobs and my mother was housewife in the care of three kids.  All of my uncles and a few of my aunts had more than one job outside of the home.   My family left Ireland in the early part of 20th Century, when Teddy Roosevelt was President – Grandpa Hickey, a big husky Kerry bogman, worked in the Chicago stockyards, then as a stockyard police man and then helped found the Stationary Engineers Union in Chicago. Granny Hickey from the islands off southern Kerry and then near Cahirciveen came to the States with little English and fewer pennies and worked for the swells in the magnificent homes on south Prairie and Calumet Avenues as a cook learning from a Mexican and an African American woman.

They met when they worked at the Metro pole Hotel on Cermak Road, Larry heaving coal into furnaces and Nora cooking for the swells. They married at Holy Family on Roosevelt Road and had fourteen children- seven boys and seven girls.  One little girl died of a fever, they were fortunate. Thirteen role models and American workers lived through the Depression, World War II and labor warfare.

I once walked past a penny on the sidewalk and my Dad barked, “pick that up!’  It’s only a penny. “ Your Grandfather, my brothers and me and hundreds of other working-stiffs walked hundreds of miles on picketlines, got a nightstick on the head, spit at, arrested and locked-out of jobs for that penny, smartass.  Now, pick it up and give it to your brother when we get home.”

Money means something.

I respected that for the balance of my life.  My Dad and uncles were easy with buck and always Duke’d us little guys with some “Walking Around, Folding Dough and Spending Loot.”  Uncles Bart, Donny, Sy, Mike, Bud and Jack knew the value of a dollar and knew how to part with it with liberal ease.  Money means something to little guys. It means comic books, Dixie Cups, Chuckles and Pop.

Money represents the values of hard work, sacrifice, loyalty and labor.

Granny Hickey always paid a ‘special visit’ to Monsignor Stephen J. McMahon of Little Flower Church. The Hickey’s were among the first settlers in that great parish and helped build its still magnificent campus, now used by Charter Schools and Father Pfleger.  The priest’s house is where the pastor of St. Sabina’s parks his cars.

The Irish immigrants from County Kerry helped  the Church and the founding of a grammar school and convent and eventually a co-educational Catholic high school, later closed by Cardinal Cody only to make the point to other pastors that he could.

Money means something.

I was reminded of that fact on Sunday March 15th just before the South Side Irish Parade conducted by a son of Little Flower Parish Tom McGourty from 77th & Wood Street.  I was going to Mass at a cousin’s home which is an annual family gathering and I needed to get out of the neighborhood before the parade step-off.  Streets are strategically blocked after 10 AM.  I needed to get to Oak Park by 11 and Mass was at 9:30, so I drove to 99th & Oakley – I usually walk over to my cousin’s house.  I found a good spot for easy parade egress and a clear path to the Dan Ryan and decided to grab a cup of coffee at Dunkin Donuts on 104th & Western Ave.

It was here that I recalled my peasant roots and immigrant values when I was greeted by my pal Kareem, the manager of Dunkin Donuts/

Kareem and his crew of Naceda, Larry and Bidya are my family.

Every morning, Monday through Friday, I am at Dunkin Donuts a little after 4 AM, where I am greeted with Kareem’s hale and happy, “ Leo Hickey! How’s Myles Turner( a Leo Man shot up by gangbangers and struggling to walk again); He’s at Chicago State, yes?”  I answer as best I can and say good morning to Naceda and Larry from India.  This happy couple live in Homer Glen.  Bidya always asks, “ How’s  Jimmy Sexton, I love that man!”  Mayor Jimmy Sexton, also a Little Flower man, of Evergreen Park helped Bidya recover more than $ 4,000 from a fraud of a window contractor.  Jimmy Sexton knows the value of a buck to hard-working people.  Cousin Sylvester “Sy” Hickey, Chief Engineer at Cook County’s Stroger Hospital arrives and fights me for the morning payment of the Zoom Juice.  I surrender easily, always have. Kareem does the color commentary.

Kareem is a native of Morocco, lived a while in France and is married to an American girl and together they have three lovely children .  They live on 99th Street on the border of Evergreen Park.  Kareem is at work every morning at 3AM and he is present every day.  He says, that he always takes Sunday off to clean the garage and do a Dad Commands Clean-up of the homestead, followed by a spoiling of the children outing.

I call Kareem and his crew the hardest working Americans always to their protestations – “ Painter Pat Maloney works much harder!”  He do?  I have only witnessed these role models move with speed, race and accuracy in making change and always with smiling grace. 



Kareem, Bidya, Naceda and Larry seem to be there every day. They do not own the franchise; they own non-stop flow of customers, greeted by name and always with genuine affection. America will be just fine.  A couple out of County Kerry did their kids proud and they, in turn, the same.

Money means something.

The Bible speaks of it and so does the Quran.  






From Irish American News for April (p.45)

Saturday, February 15, 2014

Leo HS Morning 2/11/2014 -I Ride With Pride and Clyde By My Side!


 I am blessed with a great life and the opportunity to work for Leo High School.  I get to Leo at about 4:45 most days and start the boilers, do some paper work and get one of the vans ready to pick up between seven and nine guys participating in early morning activities. My crew is usually Cyde, Chris, TJ, Mick, Joe, Latrell, Caleb, Gaylon, and Sydney.  I begin in Englewood at 74th & Normal, go to Grand Crossing at 66th & King Drive, take that beautiful, historic and inspiring Boulevard north to 35th and Dunkin Donuts!

At 5:45 AM I defrost and chip ice from Old # 7 and get the heat up -somewhat and at 6:10 head to pick up my co-pilot and fifteen year old mentor Clyde at 74th & Normal 
 The man emerges and runs to the van.  Hoists himself and a twenty pound book bag in to the van and greets me with a genuine "Good morning Mr. Hickey! My Mom says hi!  Let's Roll!"Route #66   Nelson Riddle   Nelson Riddle Collection

Download Route #66   Nelson Riddle   Nelson Riddle Collection MP3 for free on Dilandau

 Roll we do north toward Hamilton Park . . .

and then east to Wentworth, north again to 67th and then east to grab Chris - on the way Chris's Mom calls to say that he has the flu. Like Clyde, Chris never misses a day and commands a 3.8 GPA.
We pass Chris's home in the Park Homes and head north
 Under the 63rd Street L Platform
 and past Wahsington Park at 59th Street.  Past the 55th Street Garfield Boulevard the real charms of Chicago Architecture from the days of Burnham become evident.
 East and west we see scores of the very best examples of Chicago Architecture.
 We come to heart of Bronveville the birthplace of Chicago Blues and Jazz and the Harold Washington Library on the east side King Drive.
 At 45th we pass a beautiful old building boarded up and aching for a rehab.
 The Sax Man agrees!
 On the east side of 43rd and MLK drive stands my very favorite Chicago building.
 Just before 35th Street we come to the wonderful WWI Memorial to the Men of Bronze - the all African American Illinois Guard Regiment from Chicago that twisted the Kaiser's mustache until he gave up.   We make a right at 35th Street and a left at the strip mall that is home to our Dunkin Donuts

I explain that we are 'showing the flag,' like a 1920's Yankee gun-boat on the Yangtzee River - representing Leo High School in words and deeds and the lads have stepped up magnificently. For two years now, we are warmly greeted by the Dunkin Donuts regulars, headed by the Mall Manager Roy and the working the men who begin their day here.
Not a day goes by without a full report from Clyde

and fleshed out by Joe, Mick, Caleb, TJ, Latrell & etc.


The Dunkin Donuts He-Bull . . .

and the Dream Team serve us with coffee, OJ and a box of Munchkins ( chocolate glazed only).

These are my pals!  Missing is eighty year old Miss Marie and the famous BB Ref.


Back to the van and west on 35th Street, we pass Catholic League rival D.

 and approach the Dan Ryan.

 We pass Sox Park and merge with a near miss which upsets sissy-britches Mick



 Now, I pay great attention to rush hour south!
 We exit at 79th Street head west and arrive at Leo High School at 7:15 AM.

The guys polish off the Munchkins and get a hot breakfast at Leo.  The guys head to their activities, or tutoring sessions.  They put in a very long day of academics and sports and most do not get home until well after 7PM.

I am a very blessed man - Facta Non Verba.

Wednesday, June 27, 2012

Leo High School - Incubator of Wit



 

Tully eloquent in his glozes, yet vainglorious: Solomon wise, yet too wanton: David holy but yet an homicide: none more witty than Euphues, yet at the first none more wicked. The freshest colors soonest fade, the teenest razor soonest turneth his edge, the finest cloth is soonest eaten with moths, and the cambric sooner stained than the coarse canvas: which appeared well in this Euphues, whose wit being like wax apt to receive any impression, and having the bridle in his own hands, either to use the rein or the spur, disdaining counsel, leaving his country, loathing his old acquaintance, thought either by wit to obtain some conquest, or by shame to abide some conflict, and leaving the rule of reason, rashly ran unto destruction. Who preferring fancy before friends, and his present humor, before honor to come, laid reason in water being too salt for his taste, and followed unbridled affection, most pleasant for his tooth. When parents have more care how to leave their children wealthy than wise, and are more desirous to have them maintain the name, than the nature of a gentleman: when they put gold into the hands of youth, where they should put a rod under their girdle, when instead of awe they make them past grace, and leave them rich executors of goods, and poor executors of godliness, then it is no marvel, that the son being left rich by his father's will, become retchless by his own will. John Lyly:1579 
1578




I had occasion to quaff coffee with men of wit once again.  Nowhere on earth, it seems to me anyway, is there a habitat of the humanities so plush in periphrase, euphuistic circumanbages, prolixities, and piles of pleonasms as my south side Chicago neighborhood.  There be no terse Terrences on these Elysian urban arteries.

This is no home to thin and tight lip-ed cut-to-the-chasing merchant-pettifogers and gowned charlatans, who see time as money and words get in the way of both.  Hyde Park and Evanston stamp worth with coin in thy purse Puritanism and unitarian ambiguity of sound and sense.  Our rhetorical umbilical chords extend to Hibernian, Caledonian, Carpathian and Parnassan springs of generously honey'd word-waters.


In short, the guys can gab.

Of this breed of wags, none stands taller than a Leo High School Alumnus.  I say this with all requisite due diligence as to my attachment vocational to this academy of Faith, Scholarship and Deeds. Though I am an employee of this brainery of brawny stalwarts, I am not one myself.  I graduated from the now only remembered Little Flower High School.

I coffee at Dunkin Donuts operated by Moroccan born Kareem and attended by alumni of every Catholic parish and high school south of Madison Avenue with the odd sprinkling of Los Nortenos de Chicago, with an august parliament of worthies.  I was asked about enrollment for the coming school year and happily reported on the swelled ranks of young Lions, including seven young men from St. Gabriel's parish in Canaryville.

This segue'd to the looming Chicago Public Schools job action -voted on and set for strike.  I was told that marketing opportunities abound and all we needed was a snappy slogan.  A shower of shibboleths followed, all identifying rich niche tags; thus, Leo High School -Expect to Succeed & etc.


A Leo Man, Mike Regan '70,  stood tall and voiced the truth honeyed with periphrase, genius, wisdom and truth.


Leo High School - A success story from one end of the bar to the other!


Mike Regan, Citizens!  Un homme qui offre toujours le meilleur mot sur ​​n'importe quel objet donner!


Hey, that Motts Juice is mighty tasty!