Buying used stuff... The discount is great. But what I'm learning... the stories gathered from sellers are even richer. Basketball is the sport of choice at Rory's school. The kid wanted a hoop, and Craigslist is full of em. $300 new, I found one with the factory plastic wrap still on the glass for $150. Would ya take $125?... A "yeah, I'll take $125" had me rolling the 45 minutes up Lake Michigan to Sheboygan.
To a century-and-a-half old neighborhood sitting on a picturesque slope overlooking the lake, where two blocks inland, a sturdy black basketball hoop sat in the driveway of a very large and dusty white Victorian home, its worn paint contrasting with the freshly poured cement of new walkways and a stone sculpture by the front door. As I backed the Durango up its drive, a tall and fit guy, who looked about my age, ambled up from an 80s pick-up parked on the street. Are you John? A meticulous voice in an earth-toned knit sweater responded, "Yes. Nice to meet you, Ross." as we shook hands. "Well, this it..." My son really wants to get his basketball skills up to snuff with his school buddies. I'd like to buy it. "Sounds good. I'll help you break it down and load it up."
Disassembling a high quality free standing basketball hoop requires the draining of hundreds of pounds of water from a weighted bottom and a lot of heavy metal pins, nuts, and bolts. Clear that neither of us had any expertise in this realm, we took turns chipping in our tools, while the other wrestled with the weight of ten foot steel. There were a lot of three minute spaces.
So... You from Sheboygan?... "I grew up here. Yes. But originally, I'm from Greece." Really?... How did you get from Greece to Sheboygan, Wisconsin? "Well, Sheboygan actually has the largest Greek population in Wisconsin. We were the first city in the state to have an Orthodox church." The history teacher within me flickered to life and we both took a break from our tools as he continued his story.
"So you may be aware of Europe's history after World War II?... Well, the United States was really worried that the Communist party might take over the Greek government, so they intervened. Those put in charge declared martial law. There was no freedom in the streets like there is here. At the time, the Greek Navy often sailed the Great Lakes on good will tours. My uncle was in the Greek Navy. He'd had enough of martial law back in Greece, so when his boat docked in Green Bay, he went AWOL and jumped ship. He found his way to the Greek community here in Sheboygan and they helped him hide out. He established himself and eventually got citizenship. A few decades later, he called my mom in Greece and invited us to join him."
Intrigued with history's intersection with today, I asked John, as a member of the Greek Orthodox Church... What are local feelings about the Russia-Ukraine war?... Given that both of them have their own branches of the Orthodox faith?... "None of this would have happened if it weren't for the United States' meddling in Ukrainian affairs. Do you remember the protests in Ukraine of about two decades ago? The Orange Revolution?" My nod was greeted with a "Yes! You have studied your history. Again, the United States interfered with locals' sentiments on their government and installed their own leader. If they hadn't done that, none of this would be happening today."
Seventy pounds of resting steel pole on my shoulder, I let John's history lessons sink in. In the late 1940s, it was the communist Soviet Union that the United States was trying to repel from Greece. That threat sparked the passage of the Marshall Plan by Congress, which poured billions of dollars into Post-War Western Europe to encourage its people to embrace capitalism and democracy. Nowhere in my high school history books was there mention of martial law alongside the Marshall Plan in Greece.
In 2004, in Ukraine... Well, communism seemed long dead. The Soviet Union replaced by a Russian oligarchy that placed great wealth in a few people's hands and allowed a fledgling democracy to be crushed by a rising dictator. Did Putin tamper with the Ukrainian elections of the new millenium?... Did America use its weight to back its own candidate? That I have not studied. What I do remember are photos of large Ukrainian crowds waving orange scarves. An election they thought rigged was redone. And their candidate then won. Then a few years later... His opponent once again claimed victory. Then... after another mass protest, that opponent was beaten again.
Having no clear opinion on any of this, I resigned to the seventy pounds of steel still on my shoulder, and changed the subject. This is a beautful old house. It's yours?... "Yes. It was a long-term rental and I am turning it into an AirB&B." An AirBnB eh?... Two blocks from the lake. A beautiful old Victorian. I bet you'll make good money. "Yes! The house has six units and I'm updating them all." No need for a hoop, eh? "This hoop belonged to one of my long-term tenates. I've asked him several times to come get it and other stuff he left in the garage. He hasn't. The other day I saw him in the supermarket and he walked the other way."
Satisfied enough that the hoop was a just buy, we loaded it into the Durango, the backboard sticking out of the tailgate. I took off my buffalo plaid hoody and zipped it around the basket to serve as my caution flag for tailgating motorists. On my mention of being a teacher, John made the oft cited comment of older people since maybe forever. "Teacher, eh? Students today... That must be hard. Kids don't engage like they used to." This was followed with a recommendation that I read Confessions of an Economic Hit Man and follow the politics of Tulsi Gabbard. "It's all about the moneyed interests, Ross. They control the media and muck up the true news."
I offered to pay John with Venmo, Paypal, Zelle, or a personal check. On my drive up, UW Credit Union's two drive thru ATMs were exhausted by the weekend's end. "I don't do any digital banking. A check is fine. Do you have the money in your account right now? If not, I'm happy to wait. Someone did that for me when I bought that truck last month, and I'd like to pay forward the favor." I gave John a heartfelt thanks and assured him he could cash the check today.
As I slowly pulled through that neighborhood back toward I-43, my hoody flapping in the Durango's tailwind, the grey breeze rippled the waters of Lake Michigan at the bottom of that gentle hill. Neighbors with a variety of skin tones were on the sidewalks, navigating their Sunday through the lake's sharp air. In another month, Lake Michigan will turn back to her Mediterranean blue. The AirBNBs, their fresh paint glistening among the well-worn blocks, will bring in more profit over four months than the landlord next door will see in a year.
I reflect on John's statement about well-moneyed interests. On the fact we both drive used vehicles and also both converted our long-term rental to an AirBnB... On how the working people I passed might look different from the tourists who will soon flock to their week's stay in a grand old house by a sunny great lake. On communists. On fascists... On a local church community making sense of war between its cousins... On the idea that freedom on US soil might not afford the same freedom abroad.
No clear answers. Just more questions.
And a pretty sweet hoop for a very excited kid. Make that two happy kids. Anna loves it too.
